Chapter 23
23
Isla had seen patients younger than Mark die before, and it was always hard to get that image out of her mind, but the reason she knew she’d never be able to forget him, was because she could still hear the sound of his daughter sobbing when she got back to her flat. She’d cried until she felt as though she had no tears left, when her own father had died, and she’d known his death had been inevitable, although sooner than they’d expected. But there hadn’t been heart-wrenching shock to accompany the pain of losing him. For Mark’s daughter it would be different. His death had been completely out of the blue; her father was there one moment, and then just gone, without any warning. It was no wonder witnessing that had made Joe rethink his own life, and reassess his priorities.
It had made Isla think too. As an A she’d been living half a life for far too long and fear had made her self-sabotage her own happiness. She’d been so scared of loving someone new, in case she lost them, but what was the point of a life without people to love? She had to stop living in fear and she had to find a way to stop living for everyone else too. Maybe it was time to get selfish and work out what she really wanted and how to get there. It sounded easy in principle, but letting go of long-held fears wasn’t something that could happen overnight, and she still didn’t know if she could tell her family about her diagnosis. At least not yet. The anger she felt about having CML kept bubbling close to the surface, and sometimes she felt as if she was trapped in a maze, trying to work out how to move in the right direction, but finding barriers in her path at every turn. She couldn’t help wondering if it would be easier trying to navigate all these difficulties with someone by her side, but when she thought about that she could only picture one person. And Reuben didn’t need her dropping her messy life into his lap. She had to work this out herself, and stop pretending she was happier hiding from the prospect of love, just because of the risk it brought.
The chance to build a family was what Aidan and Jase wanted too. But she’d heard what Aidan had said about people needing to do what was right for them, even if it meant going back on an agreement. He obviously didn’t want Isla to go through with the egg donation; he’d said as much to Tash on the night of the barbecue, but he was too nice to come out and say it. So she was going to make it easy for him and Jase and give them the chance to walk away without having to be the ones to pull the plug on the process. All she had to do was tell them that she’d changed her mind, and to promise to find a way to repay them for the treatment she’d had so far, and the cost of freezing her eggs. She could stop the treatment and talk to her consultant about the possibility of a referral to an NHS-funded clinic, but that would have made everything that had happened so far completely pointless and it would delay her starting the inhibitors for even longer. At least this way she might eventually be glad she’d made the decisions she had. It sounded so logical when she thought of it like that, and she had no idea why it felt as though she was grieving the loss of something she loved.
Within an hour of getting home from work, Isla had started a loan application – she wanted to have all the plans in place when she told Aidan she wouldn’t be going ahead. Making it business-like was the best chance she had of taking the emotion out of it, but her head already ached from trying not to cry again, and she had no idea how she’d get through the conversation when she was face to face with Aidan.
She was just trying to calculate the sum of her total monthly outgoings, the spreadsheet swimming in front of her eyes, when there was a knock at the door. It was already eight-thirty, so it wouldn’t be a visitor. It was probably just the pizza delivery guy, getting confused by the numbering system in the chapel flats again.
‘Reuben.’ Seeing him standing there took her breath away, and not just because she was so surprised that it was him.
‘Sorry, I know it’s late just to drop by, but I was passing and…’ He shook his head. ‘That’s a lie. I wasn’t passing at all. I knew you were working today, and I was at Aidan and Jase’s house when he got in. He said you’d both had a tough day and I wanted to check you were okay. I thought if I called first, you’d just say you were fine.’
‘I’ve been doing that a lot, haven’t I?’ There was something about him that made it almost impossible to keep up the pretence and, when he nodded, she stepped back and opened the door a bit wider. ‘Come in.’
‘I’ve bought you some sunflowers, and some strawberries. Nan made you a lemon drizzle cake she wanted me to drop round, and you left the cup she bought you behind.’ Reuben set everything down on the kitchen counter, and Isla picked up the mug.
‘I can’t accept this.’
‘I know it’s probably a bit cheesy, but she means well.’
‘No, it was lovely.’ Isla dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand to distract herself from the emotion bubbling up inside her again. She had to convince him that the decisions she’d made were what she wanted, and he was never going to believe that if she started to cry. ‘It’s just that what happened today made me realise some things. I can’t go ahead with the egg donation, because it’s not what Aidan and Jase want…’
‘What do you mean it’s not what they want?’ He furrowed his brow. ‘They’ve barely talked about anything else since you made the offer.’
‘But things changed when I was diagnosed. I tried to pretend they hadn’t, but the truth is they changed for me too, and I don’t think it’s what any of us want any more. I heard Aidan telling your mum that they were having doubts.’
‘They’re probably just worried about you, and I know they’re happy to wait until you’re sure you’re ready.’
‘I know, but my head’s such a mess at the moment, and I’ve probably attached too many of my hopes for the future to Aidan and Jase’s plans. It started to feel like it might be my only chance of ever having a baby. I don’t know if that’s what freaked them out or not. But if it didn’t, it should have, because if I’d said that to the clinic they’d never have let me go ahead.’ Isla gripped the handle of the mug, enjoying how sturdy it felt.
‘Anyone would have been knocked sideways by what you’ve been through.’
‘One day I’m certain of what I want and what I think, and the next day I’m not.’
‘Are you still talking about the egg donation?’ Reuben’s eyes never left her face, and a huge part of her wanted to say that her feelings for him were the one thing that hadn’t wavered. But she’d meant what she’d said about him deserving more than to be caught up in the chaos.
‘I don’t want Aidan and Jase to wait around while I see if I can sort my head out, and go back to being the person I was before I had my diagnosis. And I don’t want you to have to do that either.’
‘I didn’t even know the person you were then. It’s the you now that I want to be with, however messy that might be.’ He was so close she could have reached out to him, and made everyone and everything disappear again, but it would all still have been waiting for her on the other side. It wasn’t fair to drag him along for the ride. If they’d been together years when she was diagnosed, it would have been different. Relationships were all about accepting the bad times as well as the good. But right now, she wasn’t sure she could offer him anything good.
‘I need to concentrate on myself for the time being, I’m sorry.’ She pushed the mug across the worktop towards him, her throat burning with the effort it took to say the words, when deep down all she wanted was for him to stay. ‘You might be the loveliest person I’ve ever met, Reuben, and I’ve got a feeling I’m going to regret this one day. But it would be far worse if I didn’t do this, and you ended up being the one who was filled with regret. All I can offer is friendship, but I’m not even sure I’ll be that good a friend right now.’
‘Nothing I say is going to change your mind, is it?’ He sounded defeated and she should have been pleased that he was giving up without too much of a fight, but the regret she’d told him she might feel one day was already flooding through her. She just couldn’t let him see it.
‘No, but I need to ask one more thing that I’ve got no right to ask you.’
‘What is it?’
‘Will you tell Aidan and Jase that I’m sorry, but I just can’t keep the promise I made? I’ll pay them back for everything, so they can go ahead with another donor straight away.’
‘Is that what you really want?’
‘It is.’
All Reuben offered in response was a nod, but she knew he’d keep his word. For his uncles’ sake, if not her own. He didn’t turn back as he headed out of the flat, and the click as he shut the front door behind him seemed to echo across the room. The tears that Isla had fought so hard not to cry, slid silently down her face. And when she took out the injection from the fertility, and jabbed it into her leg, she didn’t even feel the needle go in. She was already in far too much pain.
There was something hypnotic about the fountain outside The Thornberry Centre. It was the way the water danced up and out, cascading like diamonds hanging from a chandelier, before re-joining the larger body of water and being re-formed into something entirely different. It was a process Isla felt she needed to go through, physically and mentally, and the counselling session she’d just had was another step along that road. As soon as the egg collection was complete, she’d start her treatment with the inhibitors, which would hopefully change things in a physical sense too.
She’d ended up talking to the counsellor about Reuben far more than she’d expected to, as well as working through her feelings about pulling out of the egg donation. Just like Reuben, the counsellor had asked her if she’d spoken to Aidan and Jase about her interpretation of their feelings, and she’d been forced to admit that she hadn’t. When the counsellor had asked if she sometimes used avoidance to prevent herself from getting hurt, or if she pulled back from things she really wanted, before anyone else could, in order to feel she had some kind of control, she’d had to admit both suggestions were true. Unsurprisingly, the counsellor had linked it all back to growing up with a father she’d known she was going to lose. That had been the ultimate lack of control, and it was why she’d tried to choreograph her life ever since, to avoid getting hurt, by pulling back from any situations where there might be a risk of that.
Isla’s counsellor, Jayne, had agreed that her diagnosis had almost certainly triggered the kind of out-of-control feelings she hated, and had suggested that their next step was to develop strategies to try to manage that, without it becoming self-destructive. Jayne had kind eyes and a gentle manner, and she was far too nice to point out that Isla had already pressed the self-destruct button more than once. She hadn’t needed to, because the moment Reuben had walked out of the flat, Isla had wished with all her heart she could take back the things she’d said. She’d been telling the truth when she’d told him she was a mess, the lies had only come when she’d said she didn’t want anything other than friendship. Telling herself she’d done that for his sake had made her feel a tiny bit better, but when Jayne had pointed out that he was a grown man, who didn’t need protecting, and that it was just Isla protecting herself again, she’d had to admit that was true too.
The droplets of water in the fountain got second chances all the time, and she was still staring at it, holding on to the hope that she might too, when she heard a voice behind her.
‘It’s so peaceful here, isn’t it?’ It was Sarah Vardy, instantly recognisable, yet somehow looking entirely different than before. She was thinner, and there were dark shadows under her eyes, but she seemed far less anxious than she had in the past. She was well-groomed and elegant too, with no sign of the woman who seemed to have given up on even basic hygiene after the death of her mother.
‘It’s lovely. How are you doing?’ Isla turned slightly, as Sarah joined her on the bench.
‘I’m dying. It’s a glioblastoma and I’ve decided not to have any treatment, other than counselling.’
‘Oh Sarah, I’m so sorry.’ There were never any right words at a time like this, and Isla instinctively hugged the older woman close to her. For a moment they didn’t speak; the only sound was the fountain in front of them, and then Sarah pulled away.
‘I’m sorry too, but it’s weird, because the thing I’m most sorry about is not that I’m dying, it’s for all the years I wasted fearing it.’ Her eyes had filled with tears, and she dabbed at them with the crumpled tissue that had been balled up in her fist. ‘I spent so long being terrified of cancer and it stopped me living my life. Fifteen years ago, it stopped me saying yes to going travelling with the only man I’ve ever loved. My mum begged me to go and to enjoy my life while I was young enough to do so. I could have had fifteen amazing years with him, seeing the world. Instead, I stayed inside the walls of my house, thinking I’d be safer there than anywhere else, and the only places I travelled to were hospitals. When my mother was dying, she told me her biggest regret was that she’d never got to see me find happiness. That’s what I’m sorry for. I cheated myself out of so much because of a fear of something I could never have controlled. All that hiding away and playing it safe, and I still got cancer anyway. It’s bloody ironic, isn’t it?’
‘None of it’s fair and you can’t blame yourself for not taking those chances, because you were battling a different kind of illness then.’ Isla desperately wished she could do something to change the outcome for Sarah, or to give her back even a tiny bit of what she’d missed out on, but nothing could.
‘It’s partly my fault, because I didn’t take the help that was offered to me to try and deal with my fears, as much as I should have done. I refused the medication and some of the therapies. I think it became so much my norm, I was scared of letting it go, because who would I have been without it?’ Sarah closed her eyes for a moment, and Isla tried not to see the parallels between her own life and the woman’s sitting next to her, but it was impossible. Isla’s behaviour might have been nowhere near as extreme, but she was saying no to things she wanted because she was scared of getting hurt. Except nothing could hurt her more in the end than looking back at a life and feeling all those years had been wasted. There was no point in protecting herself, if it meant she didn’t really live, and if she didn’t get to experience the things that mattered most in life. It was the same message Gwen and Jayne had tried to give her. Nothing was guaranteed, her patients taught her that every day, and when her time came – whenever that might be – she didn’t want to be like Stuart, alone in the world, apart from a carer who was paid to be by his side. She wanted people around her who loved her as ferociously as she loved them. And all she could do was wish the same for Sarah.
‘There’s no easy fix for that kind of fear.’ Isla squeezed the other woman’s hand. ‘Have you got people around, giving you support?’
‘My sisters have been great. I’ve driven them mad over the years, but they both dropped everything to be with me when I got my diagnosis. They’re taking it in turns to stay with me and they’ve been helping me to look my best, because it helps me feel a bit better too, but I’m giving them both the next week off.’ Sarah smiled; the look of serenity that had been on her face when she’d first arrived was back in place. ‘Craig, the guy from all those years ago, got in touch after I put something on Facebook about my diagnosis. He came to see me, and we talked all night. He said he wanted to take me to his favourite places around the world and show me all the things he wished we’d seen together. So, he’s taking me to Paris. He’s hired a camper van so we can stop whenever I need to on the drive down to Kent, and then we’ll get the ferry over to France, before driving on to Paris. He wrote all the time when he first went off travelling and I remember getting the postcard he sent me, with a picture of the Eiffel Tower on the front, and wishing to God I’d been brave enough to go. Now I’m going to get to see it, with Craig.’
‘That’s wonderful, Sarah, I’m so happy for you.’ It was a ray of hope in all that had been lost, and Isla managed to smile through the tears that were blurring her eyes.
‘He told me I was the love of his life, and I know he was mine. Not everyone gets to have that kind of love in life, so that’s something, isn’t it?’
‘I think it’s everything.’ As Isla put her arms around Sarah again, the battle to stop herself from giving in to tears was well and truly lost.