Chapter 25
25
HOLLY
‘I want you to come with us.’ Lou made it sound like an order rather than a request when she told me she wanted me to be here this morning when Stan was dropped off for his first day of school.
‘First days of school are for mums and dads, not fun aunties who are only supposed to be there to buy too many sweets at the end of the week.’ I already knew Tom would be there because we’d talked about it a lot, about how Lou might react and whether she’d be strong enough to even go. Her last appointment with her consultant had gone about as badly as we’d all expected. Lou’s kidneys haven’t recovered from the first round of chemo, her neutrophil levels are through the roof, and she’s not well enough to have any of the other treatments they might have tried. The scan also showed significant spread of tumours into her lungs, peritoneum and liver. Mr Whitelaw seemed amazed that she’s still going, but he doesn’t know my sister like I do; she’s a force of nature and she’s not going to let go until Stan and Flo start the new school year, and she’s thrown the party to end all parties. We’ve worked hard to get everything in place, and it’s less than two weeks away now. As much of a relief as it is that we’re nearly there, I also don’t want it to come, because I know it means we’ll take a giant step closer to the day when we lose her and I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready.
‘Tom is coming, but so are you.’ Lou’s insistence I had to be here today didn’t waver, and she’s been so strong when she needs to be throughout this whole hellish experience. ‘I want you to be there to meet Stan’s teacher and for her to know who you are from day one. He’s going to have so much to cope with in his first year of school, and his teacher needs someone she can call at any time when it gets too much for him. Tom might not always be around because of his work, and I know it’s a lot to ask of you, but I need to know you will.’
‘You don’t even have to ask.’ I’d hugged her then, feeling her bones protruding even through her clothes as the disease claims more and more of her.
‘He’s not going to have a mum soon, but he couldn’t ask for a better auntie. He might not realise it for a long time, but that makes him lucky.’ I don’t know how many more pieces of my heart there are left, but as she whispered the words close to my ear, another part of it shattered.
So here I am now, walking towards the school gates pushing Lou in her wheelchair. Stan is sitting on her lap, wriggling almost nonstop to adjust his position, probably because there’s so little flesh on her bones that sitting on her lap is uncomfortable. Flo is holding her right hand and Tom is on the far side of their daughter, holding Flo’s other hand.
‘I wish I could watch Stan going in to school, it’s not fair that I have to go in first.’ There’s a note of petulance in Flo’s voice and for the first time I have to suppress a smile. She’s so like Lou at that age, which means I know just what to say.
‘It’s because you’re so grown up, now that you’re in juniors, you have to show the little ones the way.’ I exchange a knowing look with my niece. Telling Stan he’s a baby is her favourite way to put him in his place if he’s playing the role of annoying little brother a bit too well, and he usually favours a karate chop in response. Mostly they get on brilliantly and I’ve been so proud of the efforts Flo has made to be more tolerant of him since her mum became ill, but she’s still only seven and there are still only so many NERF bullets she can have fired at her head, or karate chops aimed at her arm, before it all gets a bit too much. I think she senses this is a big day both for Stan and her parents, so she doesn’t resort to calling him a baby; instead, she straightens her shoulders and nods.
‘Yes, when Stan goes to big school like me, he’ll be able to walk into the classroom himself, but the little ones sometimes want to hold the teacher’s hand.’ Flo makes it sound as if she started school three decades ago instead of three years. I catch Lou’s eye as she looks over her shoulder at me and we both smile.
‘I want you to have the best day, sweetheart.’ Lou pulls Flo closer to her as we reach the entrance to the junior school playground.
‘I will, Mummy. Did you make my special sandwich?’ Flo raises her eyebrows as she looks at her.
‘Yes, and I showed Daddy and Auntie Holly how to make it too, in case there’s ever a day when I can’t do it.’
Flo’s brow furrows as she processes the information. ‘In case you’re too poorly to do it?’
‘Yes, or if I’m not here.’ Lou kisses Flo, not leaving room for any more questions about where else she might be. Today is not the day for that kind of conversation, even though we all know it’s coming. Or at least the adults do. I’m not sure my niece and nephew realise just how serious things are yet, and I hope they don’t. The last days of innocence and unadulterated happiness are more precious than anything else I could imagine right now.
‘Bye Mummy, bye Daddy, bye Auntie Holly.’ Flo hugs each one of us in turn and then moves to face her little brother, who is still sitting on Lou’s lap, just as Tom picks up his phone and starts to record. Leaning very close to him she lowers her voice just loud enough for me to hear. ‘Remember what I said about being a good boy, Stan. Mummy needs us to be good.’
‘I’m gonna be good, I promise.’ Stan nods his head vigorously in response, nearly headbutting his sister as she plants a kiss on his face, and a lump the size of a tennis ball lodges itself in my throat. I might be biased, but these really are the most amazing children in the world and I’ll happily karate chop anyone who says otherwise.
We all thought Stan might cry when the time came for us to leave him, but almost as soon as Tom gets his phone out to take a video of the moment, Stan notices the sandpit in the little covered area outside the Reception classroom and runs off without a backwards glance.
‘Well, it shows how much kids can surprise you, doesn’t it?’ Lou tries to smile as we watch Stan disappear into a group of children, but I spot the quiver in her lips, and I lean down to put my arm around her shoulders.
‘What it shows is just what a great job you’ve done of preparing him and making sure he’s ready for this.’
‘What if I’m not ready to leave him?’ Anyone listening might assume she’s talking about being ready to leave him at school for the first time ever, but Tom and I know it’s more than that.
‘No one’s ever ready to leave someone they love, and vice versa, but you got here. You got to today, and we’ve taken videos and photographs for Stan and Flo to look back on one day. It’s another milestone moment you’ll always be a part of.’ I can see how hard Tom is trying to control his emotions, but he can’t keep the catch from his voice, and he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand as Mrs Diggory, Stan’s classroom teacher, approaches.
‘Stan seems to have settled in straight away.’ She’s got a kind face, with a broad smile, and I know from what Lou has told me that she’s already been briefed about the situation. She’s the school’s head of pastoral support, as well as being the Reception class teacher, so she was the best person to speak to about what was happening in both of the children’s lives. I wonder whether it’s crossed Mrs Diggory’s mind that the little boy who just ran into the play area outside her classroom might be almost unrecognisable as the boy she’ll encounter in the weeks and months to come. Losing a parent can change a child, Lou and I know that.
We might not have lost our parents in the physical sense, but neither of them were around for us the way we needed them to be. I forget my dream to become an artist, obsessing about exceling at school instead, thinking that if I did well enough Mum wouldn’t have to worry about me, and there’d be no need for her to escape from her troubles by drinking too much, and Lou became the queen of the back-up plan, needing a safety net just to survive. Both of us were so shaped by the events of our childhoods, and I can’t help wondering what losing Lou will do to Stan and Flo. It’s up to me and Tom to make sure they never feel like they need to change to be noticed or praised, but we won’t be able to stop if from affecting them altogether.
‘I’m sure he’ll love it in your class; Flo always did.’ Lou smiles at Mrs Diggory and the older woman nods.
‘Your children are an absolute credit to you.’ She looks from Lou and Tom to me, and then back again. ‘And if any of you ever want to talk to me about any worries or concerns you have for either Stan or Flo, please don’t hesitate.’
‘Thank you.’ Lou takes her hand, closing her eyes for a moment as she nods. ‘It means a lot to me to know that you’ll be with him every day at school and that if he has tough days you’ll understand.’
‘Oh Louisa, of course I will, we all will. You’re an amazing woman, so brave.’ Mrs Diggory hugs Lou, repeating the phrase she’s heard countless times since her diagnosis. I know she hates hearing it, and she’s ranted more than once about the fact she isn’t brave at all, because bravery would indicate there was some kind of choice in all of this. But I know what Stan’s teacher means, and the truth is I agree with her. My sister might not have a choice about this, but she has had a choice about how she handles it, and not once have I seen her do anything but prioritise Stan and Flo from the moment she got the news.
‘Thank you.’ Lou repeats herself, but there’s not much more to say. Trusting her children to someone at any time would be a huge thing for my sister, but trusting them to someone else right now, and letting that person spend precious hours with her babies, because it’s the right thing for them rather than her, takes a huge amount of selflessness and courage too. She’s so much braver than she knows.
We got back to the house by 10a.m. and Tom was due to travel up to London to meet with his producer to discuss a project for next year that they need to start the background work on very soon. Lou had to all but force him to go and when he tried to say he wasn’t interested in thinking about work right now, she did what she does so well these days and gave him back a piece of his life, while managing to make him believe that he was doing her a favour.
‘You’ll need your work after I’m gone; it’ll give you something to focus on.’ The days when she used to take the edge off things, by saying something like ‘if the worst comes to the worst’, are over, because we already know they have. ‘You’ll be a better dad to Stan and Flo if you’ve got work to escape to, and there are going to be things that need paying for. The critical illness payout isn’t going to last forever, and I’d be a lot less stressed if I knew you had some work lined up.’
The insurance payout has been one of the small mercies of this situation. Lou had taken out life insurance for both her and Tom as soon as she knew Flo was on the way, the ultimate Plan B in case the worst were to happen. The money has been something to be grateful for. So many of the people I encounter in my volunteering have to negotiate financial struggles on top of everything else. At least Lou and Tom haven’t had that to deal with that, and it’s a generous payout that means the pressure to return to work is nowhere near as great as Lou suggested. She was giving him the gift of something else to think about and as I watched her kiss him goodbye, my admiration for her rose even higher. When she was first diagnosed, there was a danger of her pushing us all away in her attempt to try and prepare us for life without her, but Lou has found a more balanced way of doing her best to ensure we all survive when she’s gone. The trouble is, I still have no idea if I will.
‘Mira will be here soon with the palliative care nurse; would you mind putting the kettle on please?’ Lou is sitting in her favourite chair in the lounge. Once upon a time she’d never have sat down and rested like this, let alone asked someone else to make her a drink while she relaxed, but she’s finally accepting that the more she rests, the more she’s able to do. As I process her request, for a moment all I can do is grip the kitchen counter. Palliative care . I wish I didn’t know what that meant, but I do.
I busy myself setting cups and saucers out on a tray and finding a teapot. I don’t know why I’m making such a fuss, but every distraction seems to appeal these days, and I’m still faffing around looking for a milk jug when there’s a knock at the door.
‘I’ll get it.’ Calling through to the other room, I head towards the front door before Lou has a chance to respond. I open it to Mira and another woman, who looks to be in her early sixties, and who introduces herself as Judy.
‘How are things, Holly?’ Mira peers past me into the empty hallway, while they’re still standing in the porch, and I shake my head.
‘She’s exhausted. She’s desperately trying to pretend she isn’t, but she hardly has the energy for anything. Did the latest test show any changes?’ Lou has given permission for Tom and I to be told everything the medical team know, and I can tell by Mira’s face, even before she speaks, that the news isn’t good.
‘The decline in Louisa’s kidney function has progressed, despite stopping the chemotherapy and the secondary tumours are all growing quite rapidly. Things are progressing much more quickly than we’d hoped.’
‘Will she make it to the party?’
‘It’s two weeks away, isn’t it?’ Mira’s face gives her away again as I nod. ‘I’m not sure she will. The cancer is everywhere now and almost anything could tip the balance. I’m so sorry.’
‘I just don’t want her to be in any pain.’ My heart feels as though it’s being ripped from my chest when I think about the prospect of Lou suffering. I hate the thought that she might not make it to her last hurrah, but none of that really matters. I just don’t want her to know that Mira isn’t expecting her to make it. ‘Please don’t tell her you don’t think she’s got that long; I think getting Stan to school and planning for the party is what’s keeping her going.’
‘I understand, and there’s a lot we can do to manage her pain, but staying at home might not be the best option for that, and it’s something Judy and I want to talk to her about.’
‘She doesn’t want to go to the hospital.’ I can hear the fear in my own voice, because I know how much the idea of being taken to the hospital and never coming out again scares my sister, but Mira is shaking her head.
‘Hospital isn’t the best solution either, but we’ve managed to secure a space for Louisa at St Joseph’s Hospice if she wants it. It’s a wonderful place and Louisa will get all the care she needs right up to the end. Do you think it’s something she might consider?’
‘I don’t know.’ The word hospice sounds every bit as emotive as Judy’s job title of palliative care nurse. They both suggest only one thing: we’re reaching the end of the line. ‘But if you think it’s where she’ll be cared for best, I’ll do what I can to help persuade her. Has St Joseph’s got a chapel?’
‘Yes, it’s beautiful too.’ It’s Judy who responds this time. ‘Is Louisa religious?’
‘Not really, but she’s found peace since her diagnosis by visiting St Martin’s, and it’s where she was planning the vow renewal.’
‘We could sort that out really quickly if needs be, we’ve done it before.’ Judy makes it sound like a lunch order and it isn’t the time to tell her that the party wasn’t supposed to be just a vow renewal, there’ll need to be Christmas trees, and a birthday cake at the very least. But if Lou does have to move to the hospice, maybe she can still get her last hurrah. It doesn’t matter how hard we have to work and what it takes, I’m prepared to do it, if it means Lou holds on for a little bit longer, because right now every moment I have with my sister is precious.
I usher Mira and Judy down the hallway and into the lounge. Catching sight of Lou, my breath lodges in my throat. Sometimes I forget how much she’s changed over the past few months, but leaving the room and walking in again is like seeing her properly for the first time in weeks. She looks so fragile now; her cheekbones are hollowed out and the skin looks almost translucent. Her wig seems too big for her now, as if her head has shrunk. It’s like she’s wasting away before our eyes, disappearing bit by bit. The thought makes tears sting my eyes, and I turn back to the kitchen as Mira introduces Judy. I take my time, re-boiling the kettle and moving with all the haste of a sloth. It’s cowardly of me, but I’m not sure I can stand and watch my sister as she’s forced to discuss her end-of-life plan. By the time I return with the tray I can tell they’ve mentioned the possibility of Lou going to the hospice even before she looks at me, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.
‘They want me to go to St Joseph’s.’ She’s shaking her head, and I move to her side, taking her hand.
‘It’s just an idea; no one is going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.’ Mira’s tone is reassuring, and I squeeze my sister’s hand, so that she knows I’m on her side too. We all are, but I can understand why she might not feel that way.
‘These are difficult things to think about.’ Judy tilts her head to one side, giving Lou a sympathetic look and a flash of irritation makes heat flood my cheeks. This woman has already lived two decades longer than my sister is going to get and she’s not having to face leaving young children behind, so she’s got no idea how difficult this is for Lou. But she carries on anyway. ‘It can feel as if all your choices have been taken away from you, but that isn’t true. You can decide where you want to spend the time you have left, and where you want to be when the end comes. Many people do choose to be at home, but sometimes that can have a big impact on other family members afterwards, and the hospice team are incredible. It’s a lot to think about, and only you know what’s right for you and your family.’
‘I’m not ready. Not yet.’ As she folds her arms across her chest, Lou’s tone is resolute.
‘And no one is going to force you to do anything; it’s just an option to consider.’
‘I’ll think about it.’ Lou turns to look at me and I nod, hoping she knows I’ll support her whatever decision she makes. There’s never been anything we wouldn’t do for one another, and she’s always had my back, just like I’ll aways have hers, but now always is being measured in days and hours, not the decades I’d assumed we had left.
Lou clearly isn’t ready to talk more about the possibility of moving to the hospice when Mira and Judy leave. Instead, she takes out the notebook where she’s been keeping lists of her plans for the party, and she turns to a clean page.
‘I need to write some words for the renewal service, and I don’t know where to start.’
‘We could look online?’ I pick up my phone and stare at it, so that Lou doesn’t see my expression. There might not be a party if Mira is right about the likely decline in her health, and I’ve never had a poker face. These days I seem to cry more often than not, but if she asks me why I’m crying again, I’m not sure I could pass off a convincing lie. And I’m not going to take the party away from her before cancer gets the chance.
‘I don’t want my words to come from a website, I need them to come from me, and it’s not just Tom I want to say something to, there are other people. I’m just worried about getting it right.’
‘It will be right if it comes from you. Don’t try to dress it up and make it fancy, just say what’s in your heart; that way nothing important will be left unsaid.’
Lou holds my gaze for what feels like an eternity and it’s almost as if I can feel the blood pumping through my veins. Have I said the wrong thing and gone too far? We’ve stopped dancing around the truth and pretending that time isn’t running out, but I’ve made the renewal service sound like the last chance she’ll have to say whatever needs to be said, and maybe she’s not as ready to face that prospect as I thought she was. But then she nods.
‘That’s wise advice, thank you.’ Reaching out, she squeezes my hand, just like I squeezed hers. ‘For everything.’
I’m about to protest that I haven’t done anything, but she’s already released my hand and within seconds she’s scribbling away with a biro, and the blank page is blank no more. This party is so important to her, and I can’t let her leave before it happens. Lou has always been the master of the Plan B, but just this once it’s my turn to ensure we’ve got one in place. I’ll make sure she gets her farewell party, even if I wish with all my heart that she didn’t need to have one.