Chapter 17
Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.
ALBERT EINSTEIN
I used to live such a safe life – until the winds of change blasted through it. Then, it would have freaked me out. I mean, just the thought of arriving somewhere without a room booked. But that’s what I did. And of course, it all worked out.
Life was supposed to be an adventure – wasn’t it?
Only I’d forgotten the inner recklessness I used to have.
I used to covet that feeling – it came to the fore after meeting Adam, before responsibility filtered in like a fine cloud of mist that thickened over time.
By that time, I was well on the way to becoming middle-aged Tilly who couldn’t see beyond the world outside her window – until Gareth left me.
Something Adam said to me comes back. It was just before my wedding, about how if we ignored the signs the Universe sent us, they’d keep coming until we took notice of them, which is a bit of a shocker.
I haven’t thought about it like this before, but as if Gareth’s first infidelity wasn’t a huge great red flag, the second time was the biggest kick up the butt yet.
And the fact remains that if he hadn’t moved in with Olivia, chances are I’d still be in England, still living with him; most likely applying for another uninspiring part-time job, then being rejected because it was better suited to the younger, more glamorous and tech-savvy applicants.
Rick would be calling in, telling me the same old stories he’s told me so many times before that I know his spiel almost off pat.
My dad would be summoning me to run the most trivial of errands for him.
My only escape would be those solitary, nostalgic mornings on Selham railway station, where I’d sit, alone in the rain, lost in the past.
In short, my life would have stayed exactly the same, whereas now, at least I can say I made it to Crete. There’s comfort to be taken from that single fact. If it all ends here in this hospital bed, at least I’ve been somewhere.
As I lie here, I think of my dad again. He hasn’t been the same since my mum died.
OK, so he’s hidden his grief in a way I can only describe as stoic, storing it inside.
It’s brought out a side of him I hadn’t seen before – or maybe it was one my mother used to mollify.
You see, I’ve started to see a darker side to my father.
A tendency to withdraw that seems at odds with his outspokenness.
I know that grief can cloud the everyday.
That he is lost without my mum’s light. But if you bury emotions, they fester inside you, so much so I think they damage our bodies.
All that unexpressed sadness and guilt… Not healthy, is it?
I picture it as black and noxious, seeping into your cells, slowly spreading, taking your body over, pushing out all the nice things like joy, happiness. Even love.
Since Lizzie died and the boys moved out, I’m the only person in our family who talks about love.
I used to tell the boys I loved them with almost every goodbye.
Lizzie, too. Not so much Gareth, for obvious reasons.
And I still say it to the boys, but it would be so nice if there was someone else to say I love you to.
Thinking of Lizzie again, my mind winds back to a rainy spring morning about six months after Mum died.
I was in the kitchen, mulling things. I was doing that more and more, still avoiding the bleeding obvious that if only I was brave enough to cut ties with Gareth, my life would have changed for the better, overnight.
But being the Tilly I was then, I couldn’t. Instead, just back from work, I was wallowing. Dear God. Since when had wallowing become my comfort zone?
* * *
That morning, hearing a car pull up outside, I’d glanced through the window just as Lizzie got out. My heart lifted. There was nothing quite like a couple of hours with my sister to make my soul sing.
She came in, her fair hair long and wavy, smiling the way she always did. But as she hugged me, I could feel it before she spoke. Something was wrong. Holding her at arm’s length, I frowned. ‘What is it?’
For a moment, she didn’t speak. Then her eyes filled with tears. ‘Tilly, I found a lump.’
Lizzie’s entire life – or at least, all those parts I knew of it – were literally flashing before my eyes as I reeled in shock.
From the baby sister I remembered, to the gangly child who morphed into a beautiful teenager; who was my best friend in the entire world.
‘You need to see someone.’ My hands were shaking as I searched around for my phone.
This couldn’t be happening now, so soon after losing Mum.
‘I’ll call the medical practice for you.
’ Seeing my phone, I picked it up. We were both registered with the same doctor and scrolling through, tears filled my eyes as I found the number. Then I felt her hand on my arm.
‘Tilly, they already know. I’ve had a biopsy, and a scan.’
As I looked into her eyes, I saw both her calmness and the depths of her despair there.
I tried to take in what she was saying, to pull myself together, but sitting down, it didn’t feel real as she told me about the form of cancer she’d been diagnosed with; her prognosis – it wasn’t good.
Listening in shock, I had no words. ‘There has to be something they can do,’ I said at last.
‘Surgery. Then chemo.’ Lizzie’s voice was small.
‘You should have told me.’ I hated the thought of her carrying this alone – forgetting that she wasn’t alone. She had Rick.
‘I couldn’t. Not until I was sure.’
It turned out Lizzie had only found out this morning. And though two cases of cancer in our family in less than a year went way beyond the odds, as I was finding out, it happened. My mum and Lizzie were proof of that.
Coming so soon after mum’s illness, it put a whole new complexion on everything. Any concerns going on in my own life were sidelined, if not parked. I had more important things to worry about. Lizzie needed me and that took priority over everything.
I’d been worried how my dad would take the news, but after the initial shock sank in, to my surprise, he rallied. I’d go round to Lizzie’s to find a vase of tulips or freesias. ‘Rick?’ Invariably she’d shake her head. They were always from our father.
He’d clearly remembered how much they’d cheered our mum when she was ill.
‘If there’s anything I can do…’ I lost count of how many times I heard him say that.
But there wasn’t anything any of us could do.
All we could do was just be there, over the weeks and months that followed, knowing the treatment wasn’t working and Lizzie’s cancer was spreading.
One morning it was just the two of us – time I treasured, which was slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. At least, that was how I felt. When I got there, in her living room, Lizzie was lying on the sofa, a pastel-coloured blanket over her legs.
As I went over to her, she held out one of her hands. Taking it, I leant down and kissed her cheek. ‘How’s it going?’
‘On a scale of shitness…’ Her eyes glistened. ‘I’d say about a nine.’
My stomach tightened. Most of the way through, Lizzie had done her best to stay resolutely bright. But it was like it was in our mum’s last weeks. That instinctive sense that time was running out. ‘Can I get you anything?’
‘More days?’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Sorry. I’m not having the best morning. Do you have time to just sit here for a while?’
‘Of course I do.’
Lizzie was silent as I pulled an armchair closer. Then once I was sitting, she went on. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Ask me anything.’
‘It’s a big ask.’ Her eyes seemed larger, her skin paler. ‘It’s about Rick. You see…’ She hesitated. ‘I really don’t think he’s going to cope too well – you know, when I…’
Die, she was going to say. But I couldn’t bear to hear her say it any more than she could form the word. ‘You don’t know that’s going to happen. Not yet. You could get a phone call about the latest wonder drug – any time.’
Her lips held the ghost of a smile. ‘Tilly, it’s too late for that.’ Her voice was weak, but there was that Lizzie strength in her words. ‘I know it’s difficult, but please… Can we just talk about if the worst happens?’
As our eyes met, so much remained unspoken between us. But there were times words weren’t needed – especially between me and Lizzie. ‘You don’t have to worry about Rick. I’ll look after him.’ It was the least I could do. And as I spoke, I could see the relief in her eyes.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
But there was something else on Lizzie’s mind. ‘Tilly? Can we talk about you?’ Her face was anxious.
‘Must we?’ I attempted to say it humorously.
‘Yes.’ Her hand reached for mine again.
Getting up, I went and sat on the floor beside the sofa. Taking both her hands this time, I gazed up at the face that was so familiar to me.
‘You are so many things to different people. You can’t deny it – I’ve watched you.
You’re selfless, Tilly. You always put everyone else’s needs first. I almost didn’t ask you to look after Rick, but there isn’t anyone else.
’ Her eyes didn’t leave mine. ‘I’ve never forgotten that day you met Adam. You were different.’
Tears were suddenly in my eyes as she went on.
‘He lit a spark in you. Oh Tilly… You looked so alive. I’ve often wondered what would have happened – if you’d called off the wedding. If you and Adam could have had a chance.’
I blinked away a tear. ‘Bit late, isn’t it?’
She looked anxious. ‘Have you ever thought about him?’