Chapter 6
MARGE
Marge only realised that she’d dozed off when she woke up and saw that the light had changed a little in the room.
That happened a lot now. She’d close her eyes for a second, and then there would be a time jump – minutes, sometimes hours that she’d missed.
It was just another one of life’s cruelties.
Her time was running out, yet sleep was snatching it from her with no warning or apology.
And worse, she lost even more time because she had to rewind her mind to wherever it had been before she drifted off.
She flicked back through the Rolodex of her brain until it landed on the correct page.
The date. Yes. That’s where her thoughts had been.
Today was the date that she had somewhere to be.
Where people could help her with the last thing she had to do while she still had time.
She shifted her gaze to the side of her bed, where Estelle was sketching on her design pad, lost in her work, completely oblivious to the fact that Marge was awake, and with no cognisance whatsoever that today was going to change her life.
‘Estelle…’ she whispered and watched as her daughter lifted her head and smiled.
‘Hey, Mum. You drifted off…’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
Estelle leaned forward and covered her hand with hers again. ‘You don’t ever need to be sorry.’
Marge wanted to tell her she was so wrong. She had so much to be sorry for.
‘My phone…?’ Marge asked the question, her throat hurting as she forced the words out. This was why she couldn’t do this alone. Couldn’t say all the things that Estelle needed to hear.
‘You want your phone now?’ Estelle checked.
Marge nodded, then managed, ‘Please.’
Estelle had a quick scan of the bed, then got up and went over to the bedside cabinet. Nothing on top, so she opened the top drawer. ‘Here it is, Mum, but it’s dead. Do you want me to charge it?’
Marge nodded, then watched as Estelle pulled a charging cable out of the same drawer and plugged it in. Okay. As soon as it had enough charge, she could make calls, put a plan in place.
‘Do you want anything, Mum? A drink? Something to eat? I could cut a piece off the cake I brought in for you?’
Marge shook her head. ‘Thank you, darling, but I’m fine.’ Food hurt to swallow and seemed so pointless now. She could barely taste it – another casualty of the chemo, or the radiotherapy, or the surgery. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
Estelle got comfortable on the chair again, her legs pulled up under her, the same way she’d sat since she was a child.
Marge took the kind of low slow breath that she needed before she pushed out words. ‘Estelle, you don’t have to spend all your days here.’ Another breath. ‘It’s not fair. I want you to enjoy your life.’
‘Mum, there’s absolutely nowhere else I want to be. Just here. With you.’
It should have been a comfort to hear that, but the opposite was true.
It was the thing that Marge worried about, that she fretted over most. Only couple of years ago, Estelle’s life had been busy and full of fun.
There was her boyfriend, Craig, and of course there was Amber, Estelle’s best friend for as long as Marge could remember.
The girls were inseparable, socialised together, went on holiday together, spent all their time together.
But then there had been a fallout and Marge had been so sure they’d get over it, but they never had.
She could only hope that they would find their way back to each other because Estelle was going to need a friend to support her after Marge was gone.
‘You know, you murmured Dad’s name when you were sleeping,’ Estelle said, smiling.
‘I did?’
Marge smiled and closed her eyes again, hoping the dream or the memory would return. She was about to open her eyes again, but then she saw him. Ian was waiting right there for her, and he looked exactly the way he had on the day they had first met over thirty-five years ago.
‘Excuse me, I have an appointment today with Professor Kelaney?’
Marge discreetly swallowed the aspirin that she’d just popped under her tongue, and greeted the visitor with her usual warm professionalism, despite the queasiness she was feeling.
The previous night, she’d been at a reception for the recently graduated surgical class, and had been persuaded by Kenneth Manson to drink way too much champagne.
He was already tipped as being a future star.
They’d met at several functions over the previous couple of years, and she’d long ago realised that he was incredibly difficult to say no to.
Now she wished she’d stuck to one glass of bubbly, because she was paying for it this morning.
She focused on the visitor who was now standing in front of her desk, wearing a very smart navy suit and a Paisley pattern tie that was just the right side of muted for a business appointment.
He wasn’t a tall man, perhaps five feet ten or so, but with his brown curly hair and cute face, he reminded her of that actor from When Harry Met Sally. Billy Crystal. Yes, that was it.
‘Of course. Can I have your name please?’
‘Ian Drummond. I’m interviewing for the chief accountant position.’
‘Please take a seat and I’ll let Professor Kelaney know you are here.’
‘Thank you.’
Marge’s first thought as she watched him make his way to the brown leather Chesterfield sofa next to the floor-to-ceiling Georgian windows was that he had a kind smile.
Her second was that her boss at the Scottish Society of Surgeons, Professor Kelaney, hated doing interviews almost as much as he hated ‘bean counters’, as he called them, so this was bound to put him in a terrible mood.
Just what she needed when she was already feeling under the weather.
She wasn’t wrong. The interview barely lasted half an hour, before it was over and Ian was passing her desk on his way out, his expression a little downcast.
‘Good luck,’ she said, trying to make him feel better. ‘I hope you’re successful.’
‘Thank you.’ That kind smile again. He kept on walking, and Marge popped a Polo mint into her mouth.
It wouldn’t help with the nausea, but at least it would mask any traces of last night’s overindulgence.
The last thing she needed was Professor Kelaney questioning her professionalism.
So that probably meant putting her head on the desk and having a hangover nap was out of the question.
‘The thing is…’
She was so surprised by the interruption that she almost choked on the Polo. She hadn’t even seen the interview candidate backtrack to her desk.
‘I don’t think the interview went very well. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee that I won’t be back, given that his disposition had all the warmth of a polar expedition…’
The Polo slid into her left cheek as she smiled.
‘And I promise I don’t make a habit of this, and, actually, have never done something so spontaneous before…’
Marge could not for the life of her work out what he was trying to say, unaccustomed to any kind of personal chat in the halls of this ancient old building.
‘But would you like to have a drink with me sometime?’
Her response was instant. ‘Oh no…’
He immediately put his hands up in surrender. ‘Right. Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Very unprofessional of me. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. I’ll just go and this time I’ll make it all the way to the lift.’
‘No! I mean… Sorry!’
‘That’s quite okay. Like I said, I shouldn’t have asked…’
Marge was suddenly aware that this was descending into one of those farce comedy sketches where everyone got the wrong end of the stick.
On top of that, it was all very odd. Would she normally accept a drinks invitation from a stranger she met at work?
No. But then, hadn’t she already learned that she had a weak spot for intelligent men in suits?
‘Yes!’
Confusion crossed his face. ‘Yes, I shouldn’t have asked? Or yes, you’ll have a drink with me?’
Even if her original answer had been a rejection, the way his brows rose and the twinkle in his eye would have made her change her mind.
Besides, Professor Kelaney would be passing by on his way to his next meeting shortly, and she didn’t want him to see her having informal chats and giggles with a potential employee. He definitely wouldn’t be impressed.
‘Yes, I’ll have a drink with you. Sorry. The reason I said no initially was to the drink, not the date. I have a slight hangover, not something I’m accustomed to, so I was going to suggest a coffee instead.’
The twinkle in his eye gleamed a little brighter. ‘That’s a relief. I don’t think I could take two soul-crushing rejections in the same day.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of inflicting that on you,’ she teased a little. ‘But I do need to get back to work…’ She shot a glance at Professor Kelaney’s door. It was still closed. For now.
‘Of course. Coffee it is. Name the day and time.’
Today was out of the question. After work, all she wanted was to get home and go straight to bed until the queasiness wore off.
‘How about Saturday morning? I like to go to a little coffee shop on Hyndland Road called The Sanders. We could meet there. Say 10 a.m.?’
Before he could answer, Professor Kelaney’s door opened and he marched towards them, his stride swift and businesslike.
Ian immediately spotted the red flush creeping up her neck.
That always happened to her when she was panicking, anxious or embarrassed.
She wasn’t sure which one fitted the bill right now, but he countered it by making a fake excuse for the fact that he was still in the building.
‘Ah, yes – thank you for the directions. I’m sure I’ll find my way there.’ With that, he nodded to the professor and left.
Professor Kelaney watched him go. ‘Bit chatty for an accountant, don’t you think?’ he asked her.
‘Really? I didn’t notice.’
Only she had noticed. And every single thing she’d noticed about Ian Drummond, she liked.
That’s when she heard the sound of a door opening…
No. Wait. The light made her pupils contract, as her eyelids fluttered. The sound of the door opening wasn’t from back then, it was here and now. In her hospital room. And she wasn’t twenty-something-year-old Marge, she was this one, the broken one…
‘Did I fall asleep again?’
She saw that Estelle had her sketch pad on her knee again.
‘You did.’
‘I’m…’ She was about to say sorry, when she remembered their exchange from earlier. No need for apologies, Estelle had told her.
What else had they talked about? Her phone. Yes, that was it.
Before she could think that through any further, her attention went to the door, because it was indeed open and Nurse Yvie was waiting there.
‘I have a visitor here who’d like to say hello. Do you feel up to it Marge?’
Marge tried to run through her mind again.
Had anyone else said they were coming up today?
She didn’t get many visitors. There was no family left and her whole life had been long hours at work, then going home at night to Ian and Estelle.
At least, until Ian had left them. It would be almost fifteen years ago now and it had shattered every piece of their hearts.
That was the thing that had been weighing on her more than ever this week.
When this was done, when Marge was gone too, then Estelle would be alone.
‘What do you think, Mum – are you up to company?’ Estelle asked, bringing her back to Yvie’s question.
Marge crossed her fingers that somehow it was the one person she wanted to see. ‘Yes, I am.’