Chapter 5
5
AILISH
The hospital foyer was crowded with people wrapped up against the cold and had an air of damp coats and worry. The faces of the visitors were mostly set in deflated expressions, with only the occasional kind look of a passing member of staff. Ailish knew how tough it could be to work here. Her daughter, Emmy, had been a nurse for her entire career, and Ailish had lost count of the times she would come home deeply affected by someone she’d lost on the ward. It was even harder now that she’d moved to elderly care – a role that Ailish always thought had been inspired by Emmy’s love for her grandparents, Henry and Minnie.
Her own parents had passed away when Emmy was too small to remember them, just a few years apart, both of them to cancer in their sixties. It was one of the many reasons Ailish felt so guilty about this lethargy that had descended on her, that she felt both unwilling and unable to shake. Surely, whether her life had fallen apart or not, she should be making the most of things and living every day to the fullest?
Right, deep breath, slap a smile on and let’s do this. If only she had the motivation to apply their motto to her own life these days.
‘I’m famished this morning. Plenty of time for coffees and cake,’ Rhonda said, nodding to the huge clock in the middle of the foyer – 10.10a.m. They always gave themselves time for a quick pit stop before visiting started at eleven o’clock on Gwen’s ward. Both her sadness and the grumbling of her stomach gave Ailish permission to go wild and have a latte and a bacon roll. Other women might have champagne on the day their divorce papers dropped through the door, but Ailish was more of a caffeine and comfort food kinda gal. Besides, she honestly felt like this was nothing to celebrate. She had no intention of even telling anyone until she’d processed the finality of it herself.
They got their food and picked up Gwen’s chocolate chip cookie to take up to the ward, even though they never knew if she’d have the appetite to eat it or not. Her cancer journey had been as tough as it had been shocking. Last year, when she’d first been diagnosed with a rare form of abdominal cancer, it had blindsided them all. Gwen was a fitness fanatic who had jogged every day of her adult life, and never suffered anything more than a mild flu. Surgery had been the first step in the treatment, followed by months of chemo. She’d been told she was in remission back in September, but then, just before Christmas, she’d fallen ill again. Unable to eat and exhausted, she’d been rushed into hospital for more tests, then kept in so she could be treated for her whole new set of symptoms.
The only family Gwen had was her elderly parents who now lived up on Skye, and she’d refused to tell them that she was unwell because she didn’t want to worry them, so Ailish and Rhonda had spent every moment that they could by her side. One of the charge nurses on the ward said that she’d seen them more than she’d seen her own husband over Christmas.
The whole time they were there, they’d only uttered words of positivity aloud, but inside, they all feared the worst. As always, dark humour had got them through from day to day.
‘Ailish,’ Gwen had murmured on the day after she’d been brought in, when she was still too weak to stand and had barely been able to get the words out.
Ailish had leant closer, squeezed her hand. ‘I’m right here, doll,’ she’d said, using their pet term for each other.
‘If I peg it this time, you can have my Versace bag.’
The splutter from the other side of the bed had been loud, and the outrage that followed it indignant, which was exactly, Ailish realised, what Gwen had intended.
‘I don’t bloody think so,’ Rhonda had spluttered. ‘I will rugby tackle you and wrestle it from you with my bare hands. No way is she getting her paws on that.’
Gwen had managed to smile. ‘Better make sure I stay alive then. Can’t be having you two fighting at the wake.’
It was just one of many inside jokes that had kept their spirits up over the last fortnight of this latest admission, as the doctors searched for the reason for her latest symptoms. Of course, the obvious answer was that her cancer had returned, but none of them vocalised their biggest fears because it was just too terrifying to say out loud. Her initial scans had been inconclusive, and the second round had been slow to come due to the hospital being short-staffed over Christmas, but in the meantime, they waited, they hoped, and they visited her every day.
‘She seemed a bit better yesterday, didn’t she?’ Rhonda said, as they pulled up plastic chairs to the one empty table in the corner of the café.
‘She did. Definitely,’ Ailish replied, but neither of them mentioned what they both knew was true – they’d seen this happen before. As quickly as Gwen could seem better, it could all turn on its head again the next day. Yesterday they’d changed her medication, and they were anxiously waiting to see if that helped or inflamed her symptoms. If it was the latter… Well, Ailish refused to think about what Gwen would have in front of her.
‘Okay, I’m going to change the subject because we’ll just go down a rabbit hole of worry and we can’t go up to the ward all teary-eyed and snotters.’
Ailish didn’t disagree, but she was struggling to make her mind focus on anything else. Eventually, she settled on, ‘So where are you going then? Tonight, I mean? You said you already had your dress all picked out.’
Rhonda popped the cherry off her Bakewell tart into her mouth, then held it like a gobstopper in her cheek while she answered. ‘Well, since you are breaking our tradition of a million years for the second year in a row and refusing to come out with me…’ That had been Rhonda’s favourite dig for the last month, ever since Ailish had broken the news to her that once again all she wanted to do this Hogmanay was go to bed with a box of Quality Street, a glass of Prosecco and a box set of anything but rom coms. ‘I’m going on a blind date.’
Ailish almost choked on her latte. ‘A blind date? On Hogmanay?’
She struggled not to laugh as Rhonda came over all indignant, her chin jutting out defiantly. ‘Yes. I think it’s got an air of When Harry Met Sally about it. You know, all that snogging at midnight.’
Ailish put down her bacon roll, too engrossed to eat. ‘Rhonda, on your last blind date, you practically commando crawled out of the restaurant while he was looking the other way. It had more of an air of Die Hard about it.’
Despite her very best attempt to be unamused, Rhonda crumbled into laughter. ‘I know! But I’m not bloody staying in on New Year’s Eve and you are the only sad git I know who doesn’t have plans with their significant others or their families…’ She paused, realising what she’d just said. ‘Sorry if that just picked a scab.’
Ailish brushed it off. ‘Yep, it reopened that wound, but carry on and see if you can make me feel worse about my life.’
They both knew she was joking, so Rhonda wittered on, ‘Right then, Sensitive Sally. Anyway, unless you want to change your mind about coming with me…’
Ailish was quite emphatic. ‘I don’t.’
‘Then I’ll be spending New Year’s Eve with a gentleman called Ralph, who, from the pictures on his dating profile, would appear to be an aging gym buff with thighs that look like they could crack nuts.’
Ailish’s cackle made several people at nearby tables turn to stare. She gestured apologetically to them, before going back to the conversation. ‘You know, I always thought I’d only have to worry about Emmy making irresponsible decisions as she navigated maturity.’
Rhonda didn’t even pretend to be outraged. Her first marriage had been a spontaneous deed that she called ‘a one-night stand that lasted three years’. Her second marriage, many years later, had been to a man who had come to resent her work ethic and her success, so she’d said goodbye to him around their fifth anniversary. Her third promise at the end of the aisle had lasted ten years, and she always said that for the last nine of those, it was a relationship that didn’t fulfil or excite her, so she was absolutely unapologetic about living her most adventurous life now. ‘And I fully plan to be completely irresponsible for at least another decade.’
Ailish didn’t doubt it for a second. She just wished she had the energy or the inclination to do the same.
They finished their food with discussions about Rhonda’s frock, before Ailish checked the clock again. ‘Ten minutes. By the time we get up there, they’ll have opened the doors.’
They scooped all their wrappers and empty cups into the nearby bin, then Ailish picked up Gwen’s biscuit, and they made their way to the elevators, both of them silent, lost in their own thoughts. Ailish’s were the same every single time she did this route. Please make her be okay. Please make her be okay. Please make her be okay… She sent that thought out into the ether and just hoped that someone was listening.
They got stuck in the lift with a family whose tiny human pressed every single button, so they were held up by stopping at every floor. When they finally got to the right place, Ailish’s nerves were frayed. As the doors opened and they stepped out, she made eye contact with Rhonda, and they needed no words to make their familiar resolution.
Deep breath, slap a smile on and let’s do this.
When they reached the double doors to the ward, they stood to the side to let a nursing assistant who was coming out pushing a trolley pass them by. Inside, they made their way down the corridor, to the third door on the right, through they went, first bed on the left and there was… no one. It was empty. Gwen’s bed was stripped, the machines were off, the bedside table had been cleared and there was absolutely no sign of human life.
Ailish froze, suddenly rooted to the spot. ‘Rhonda, did we come into the wrong room?’
Rhonda was staring straight at the bed too. ‘No. This is the right bed. You don’t think…’
Ailish’s stomach lurched. No. Please no. Please don’t let her have d…
She hadn’t even got to the end of that horrific thought when the door to the bathroom opened and a nurse came out, pulling a wheelchair behind her. And there, sitting up for the first time in two weeks, was…
‘Gwen! Dear lord, you nearly gave us a heart attack,’ Rhonda gasped.
Gwen was nonplussed by this news. ‘Well, you’re in the right place. Cardiac ward is on the third floor.’
Ailish held on to the end of the bed, desperate to calm her own breathing and take in the sight in front of her. ‘Oh Gwen, you’re up…’
‘I am,’ Gwen beamed.
‘And you’re dressed…’ Ailish went on, stating the obvious.
‘Always said you should have been a detective,’ Gwen fired back this time, before taking charge of the conversation. ‘We got the results back from the scans – it’s not the cancer again. I’m still in remission. They think it could have been either the after-effects of the chemo, or a reaction to my meds. So they have very kindly…’ She winked at the nurse who was now standing beside her.
‘Against our better judgement…’ the nurse countered.
‘Agreed to let me out for now…’
‘On the condition that you go home to rest and return immediately if you develop any new symptoms or discomfort. And come back in to see your consultant on the second of January for a review and a management plan for going forwards.’
‘Exactly!’ Gwen finished, triumphantly.
Ailish blinked back tears. This was a time for laughing, not crying, but all too often these days they got mixed up. Her face took over, breaking into the widest smile, ‘You don’t need to ask us twice. Nurse, load me up with her bags, and the other one’ – she nodded to an uncharacteristically silent Rhonda – ‘will do the driving.’
In five minutes, they were organised, equipped, Gwen’s new meds had been double-checked, explained, and they were on their way out of the ward, positively giddy with glee.
At the lift, they pressed the button, and waited, giving Gwen the opportunity to take both of their hands. ‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am for you two incredible people,’ she said, her emotions torn between the tears that were making her eyes sparkle and the grin that was radiating joy and relief. ‘But before we leave here, I need you both to make me a promise.’
‘Anything,’ Ailish blurted without hesitation, at the exact same time as Rhonda said, ‘As long as it’s not celibacy.’
Gwen and Ailish both swivelled their heads to stare at her and she flushed.
‘Sorry. I don’t know where that came from. I didn’t realise we were being serious.’
‘Sometimes your mind works in very strange ways,’ Ailish told her drily, before focusing back on Gwen. ‘Tell us. Anything at all.’
Gwen exhaled deeply. ‘The last twelve months have been my worst nightmare. And the last two weeks have been terrifying…’
Ailish felt a piece chip off her heart. Whatever Gwen needed – round-the-clock company, her favourite foods, the assurance that they’d always support her – she would give it without question.
Gwen was speaking again. ‘And there have been so many times when I’ve thought I might not make it. I still don’t know if or when the cancer will come back.’
They all took that in.
‘So what I’m saying is that I have no idea how long I could have left and I’ve given so much time to this disease… So I’m not giving it another New Year.’
Ailish nodded. ‘You’re right. We’ll make the most of next year…’
Gwen cut her off. ‘No, you don’t understand. I’m not giving it another New Year . Or New Year’s Eve. Fuck the bed rest – tonight we’re going to do exactly what we’ve always done on Hogmanay. Apart from last year when you were doing the whole recluse thing,’ she added, gesturing to Ailish, before resuming her call to arms. ‘So tonight, ladies, I need you to promise that we’re going out and we’re going to celebrate.’
Ailish glanced at Rhonda, willing her to object. This couldn’t be safe. It was crazy. Impulsive. Dangerous.
Rhonda got the message.
‘Gwen, there’s nothing else I’d rather do…’ she said, voice full of regret. Ailish was about to expel a sigh of relief when Rhonda immediately switched it up and squealed, ‘So if you’ll give me two secs, I’ll just get on my phone and cancel my blind date with a bloke with twenty-four-inch biceps.’
Half of the battle won, Gwen turned to a stunned Ailish, her eyes pleading. ‘What about you, Ails? Are you in?’