30
They easily found a parking space at Exeter Hospital, and soon discovered where Suze’s ward was. Polly was subdued, saying little on the journey down, while Spike attempted to keep their spirits up by chatting away to Rowan, singing songs and pointing out moo cows and the like. Polly insisted on driving, not being able to bear Spike’s mishandling of her car’s gears.
‘Sure it’s all upside down and back to front,’ he’d said of the gear stick.
As the lift door in the hospital opened and the three of them headed for the nurses’ station on the ward, Polly’s legs gave way. It was as if she’d been zapped by some turning-legs-to-jelly ray gun; like her legs had decided to do the Funky Gibbon all on their own. She stopped to lean a hand on the wall for support.
‘I’ve got you,’ said Spike, as he grasped her under the arm to help her upright. A tricky manoeuvre since he was carrying Rowan, whose four limbs clung onto him like one of those toy monkeys Polly’d had as a child.
Rowan regarded her mother with all the confusion and worry that a nearly-three-year-old could muster. ‘Mum, Mum.’
‘I’m fine now,’ said Polly, smiling down at her daughter. ‘Just feeling queasy. Hospitals.’ She shook her head as if freeing a wasp from her hair. ‘They give me the heebie-jeebies.’
‘Know whatcha mean,’ said Spike, ‘but I can’t carry you both. This one weighs a ton, as it is.’ He took Polly’s hand and threaded it through his other arm. ‘C’mon, Polly. Best foot forward, yeah?’
‘Which one is best foot?’ enquired Rowan, as she leant over to peer down at Polly’s feet.
Polly wouldn’t have recognised her mother if she hadn’t spotted Brian next to her bed. Suze was lying half propped up by pillows, and dressed in a most unflattering hospital gown, looking much like a shrunken and older version of herself. Her normally plumped and shiny-with-health-and-botox cheeks were sunken, she had dark rings around dull and slightly yellowed eyes, and her skin was white, almost powdery, as if somebody had been at it with one of those giant talcum powder puffs. Her hair – normally coiffed within an inch of its life – was greasy and flat to her head. Things must be bad , thought Polly, as a wave of nausea rose up from her stomach. She had an urge to turn and take flight but carried resolutely crossing the ward floor to her mother’s bedside, a rictus grin fixed on her face.
‘Fuckin’ hell, Polly,’ Suze said when she saw her. ‘Will you wipe that horrible smirk off your face.’ Turning to Brian, she said, ‘I told you not to worry her,’ and gave him an I-could-kill-you glare.
‘Just as well he did,’ said Polly, as she bent to embrace her mother then took the one and only chair at Suze’s bedside. She needed to sit down.
‘Rowan!’ said Suze, holding out her arms to the tot. She turned to Polly and hissed, ‘You really shouldn’t have brought Rowan along. A hospital is no place for a child.’
‘Ah, she’s fine,’ said Spike. ‘Good to see you, Suze. Although not like this, obviously.’ He untangled Rowan from his torso and planted an awkward kiss on Suze’s cheek.
‘Spike,’ she said, acknowledging him with a small nod. Suze had clearly not forgiven him for – in her eyes – deserting Polly (even though she knew he’d not known about the baby). ‘Come here, Rowan,’ she said, turning to her granddaughter. ‘Give your gran’ma a kiss.’
Oh God, it must be bad , thought Polly. She hates being called Grandma .
‘Where’s my grapes?’ asked Suze.
‘Oh, umm, I didn’t…’
‘Just pulling your leg,’ said Suze, with the hint of a smile. ‘My throat’s far too sore to eat in any case. They had to put one of those ghastly tubes down my throat.’
‘Oh Mum,’ said Polly, and surprised them both by bursting into tears and throwing herself across her mother’s chest.
‘There, there,’ said Suze, as she patted Polly on the back.
Spike had Rowan firmly by the hand as he turned to Brian and said, ‘Why don’t we both go and get Polly a cup of coffee, and something for this little cherub. Leave the two women to have a chat in peace, shall we?’
‘Good idea,’ said Brian. ‘You want anything, love?’ to Suze, who shook her head while cradling a still-sobbing Polly.
‘I’m fine now,’ she said, with a soft smile. ‘Got all I need, thanks.’
Eventually Polly dried her eyes and looked about the ward. The woman in the bed opposite gave her a reassuring smile which said, Don’t worry, we’re used to seeing all sorts in hospital.
‘So, why didn’t you tell me, Mum? About your lump? Why?’
Suze shrugged. ‘No point in worrying everyone, now, was there? Not until we knew what’s what.’
‘Was that what you were doing when I saw you going into the Nuffield Hospital in Clifton? Having your breast checked?’
‘Now, now. Like I said, you’ve got enough on your plate bringing up Rowan on your own. And now that Spike’s come back… well, that can’t be easy, either.’
‘For God’s sake, Mum. This is huge. Why must you shut me out of your life?’
And there it was. The thing she’d promised herself she wouldn’t say, because her mother was ill. But also the thing she had to say.
She gave her mother a steady stare. ‘Come on then, Mum. You better tell me now. You owe me that much. Just what happened?’ said Polly, pulling her chair closer so that people in the next beds couldn’t hear.
‘Just silliness on my part. I’m so sorry, darling. I got a bit tipsy, went out in the boat and fell in, that’s all.’
‘Fell in, my arse,’ said Polly, her annoyance surfacing. ‘Perhaps you’d like to explain what this is all about, then?’
From her pocket she pulled out the note she’d discovered in the book and handed it over to Suze.
‘Ah,’ she said, giving it a desultory look. ‘You don’t want to take any notice of that, darling.’
‘You don’t get off that lightly, Mum. Is this why your pockets were full of stones? Were you trying to do a Virginia Woolf and drown yourself? You were, weren’t you?’
Her mother shifted uneasily in her bed. ‘Pass me that glass of water, Polly, will you? My throat’s parched. Honestly, such a fuss about nothing. I’m fine. More importantly, how are things between you and Spike? He’s looking as handsome as ever, I see. Still messing with your head? What are the chances he’ll—’
‘Don’t change the subject, Mum,’ she hissed. ‘Just what were you doing, going out in the boat like that? With your pockets weighted down? You meant to go in the river, didn’t you? It wasn’t an accident. Admit it.’
Suze took a long draught of water. ‘None of that matters now.’
‘It does to me!’ said Polly, her eyes flashing sharp blue. ‘You don’t get off that easily. How could you, Mum? How could you do this to me? To Brian? He adores you. How could you think of leaving us like that? It’s so bloody selfish!’
Suze leant back against her pillows and momentarily closed her eyes. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’ She sat up and grasped Polly’s hand, her grip surprisingly strong for a woman who’d been through what she had. ‘You don’t know this, but my mother – your grandmother…’
‘Grandma Jones? What about her? What on earth does she have to do with anything?’
‘You’d be surprised the stuff passed on from mother to daughter,’ said Suze, letting go of Polly’s hand with an exhausted-sounding sigh.
‘What?’ hissed Polly. ‘Are you trying to say she topped herself?’
‘No,’ said Suze, as she plucked at her bed sheets, seeming small and fragile once more. ‘As you know, my mother died when I was ten. What you don’t know is how horrible it all was. Just awful. I’ll never forget it. You see, she didn’t die suddenly like I said, Polly…’
No? The family story was that Suze’s mother had died suddenly in her sleep. Some sort of brain virus.
‘She died slowly and in horrendous pain. You see – she had breast cancer.’
Breast cancer? Things began cranking into place for Polly.
‘When I found this lump…’ continued Suze ‘…and we all know how breast cancer runs in families – so when I found it, I just knew I couldn’t put everyone through what Dad and I had to endure. And the pain. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes, nor the day when she gripped my hand and begged me to kill her. Me! A ten-year-old!’ Tears oozed out of her eyes and down the grooves of her face to the sides of her mouth. ‘I was only a kid, for Chrissake. I felt so… so… helpless. And then I was glad when she died. Doesn’t that sound dreadful? But I was glad it was over. Not just for her. But for me too.’ Suze turned her face away from Polly’s. ‘So there you have it. I’ve said it, and now you know.’
Polly threw her arms around her mother and held her as she sobbed. The daughter become the mother, the mother become the daughter, round and round over the generations. She knew all about cycles of shame and abuse from those long-ago days of accompanying Suze to women’s groups. It had practically been fed to her as mother’s milk. There and then, in that hospital, Polly vowed not to be part of that cycle. Not to be filled with fear (as her mother had) that everyone would leave her. Not to expect that as her due. She held her mother’s face in her hands.
‘Just because your mother had breast cancer and died horribly does not mean that the same fate awaits you, Suze. It’s not written in stone. You don’t even know for sure if you do have cancer, do you?’
Suze shook her head, slowly, reminding Polly so much of Rowan it nearly broke her heart. ‘If it does turn out that you have cancer,’ Polly continued, ‘well… you’re not alone, are you? And treatment is far better than it was back then, Mum. Really.’
She pulled a handful of tissues from the box and wiped Suze’s face. ‘Now dry your eyes. Us Jones girls are strong, yeah? Not descended from Welsh miners for nothing.’
‘We’re not at all.’ Her mother gave her a weak grin.
‘We should be,’ Polly smiled back at her. ‘Look, I’ve brought you some pretty things, and your makeup.’ She placed the small case she’d packed for Suze on her bed. ‘Let’s draw these curtains and get your slap on so that you’re ready to face the world, shall we?’
Suze looked intently into her daughter’s face. ‘That note, Polly. You won’t tell Brian, will you?’
‘No,’ she sighed. ‘I won’t tell Brian.’
‘Good. Let’s keep it our secret. For the time being.’
And even though Polly believed that secrets were not a good thing between people you love, she agreed. ‘Just so long as you don’t do anything like this ever again.’
‘I promise.’
‘If you ever feel that down or desperate, you’d better call me. Or I’ll kill you myself. Yes?’
‘Yes, okay.’
‘I’m not a kid, Mum. You don’t need to protect me from life, the universe and everything.’
Suze smiled at the reference to the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy trilogy books she’d bought for Polly one Christmas, a long, long time ago, complete with a towel wrapped around the three of them.
‘And,’ continued Polly, ‘in the unlikely event that it does turn out to be cancer, and you end up losing what little hair you have…’
‘Oi!’
‘…then we’ll buy you some fabulous wigs and scarves. If Kylie Minogue and Jennifer Saunders can beat this, then you can too. It’s practically de rigeur among female celebs these days…’
‘Ooh. Actually I know Jen Saunders. She lives not far from us.’
‘There you are then. You’ll be in good company!’
‘Shut up,’ said Suze, good-naturedly.
*
By the time Brian, Spike and Rowan returned, Suze was transformed. Sitting in her aubergine silk pyjamas, hair brushed and teased into its familiar short spiky style, colour painted onto her face, eyes bright from liner and mascara.
‘Hello, boys,’ she said to the two men with her husky voice.
‘Wow, look at you,’ said Brian – big cheesy grin all over his face.
Spike gave a low whistle. ‘Suze, if you weren’t the grandmother of my child, I’d fancy you myself.’
‘Banma!’ declared Rowan, a chocolate bar held firmly in her hand.
Suze beamed. She even remained cheerful when Brian said, ‘I’ve been along to oncology and booked you in for that scan tomorrow.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, reaching for his hand.
Spike’s mobile phone rang, and he glanced at caller ID. ‘Better take this outside,’ he said. ‘Won’t be long.’
Polly watched him go. Striding up the aisle in his skinny jeans and loose white shirt, looking like a rock star. Women’s heads turned to watch as he passed, but Polly was more concerned about who was calling him. She could easily guess.
When he returned, he had a frown on his face.
‘Everything all right?’ Polly asked, as nonchalantly as she could.
‘Girlfriend trouble?’ said Suze, as Brian shot her a warning glance.
‘Could say that.’ The set of Spike’s jaw showed that he wasn’t in the mood for elaborating.
Looks like he’s been Wham Bammed , thought Polly, wishing her mind wouldn’t come up with such glib remarks. Especially when it wasn’t in the least bit funny.
*
On their way back to the car park, Polly couldn’t help herself. ‘Was that Bam on the phone? Everything okay?’
‘Yes, Polly,’ he said, looking resolutely ahead. He carried a half asleep Rowan in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. ‘Bam was worried she couldn’t reach me, is all. She’d been calling and texting, wanting to know where I was, so I thought I’d better take her call.’
‘Of course,’ said Polly, wishing now that she hadn’t brought it up.
Spike gave her a quick sideways glance. ‘She wasn’t happy when I said I was with you.’ He wore an inscrutable look on his face but an “oh well” tone to his voice. ‘I said I’d get back to her tomorrow. I told her about Suze and that you all needed me today.’
‘No, it’s—’
‘Polly.’ He stopped in his tracks, causing her to turn and face him. ‘You’re the mother of my child. You’ll always be family to me,’ he said, holding her gaze for a moment. ‘And I’ll be there for you and Rowan whenever you need me. Bam has to get used to that. Besides,’ he added, a slow grin now brightening his face, ‘you don’t get rid of me that easily.’
And although she knew she shouldn’t, deep inside, a small part of her gave a little squeal of delight.
‘C’mon,’ he added, before she might well have said something she’d have cause to later regret. ‘I think the meter’s about to run out.’