Chapter 14
NOW
Dear Lexie,
You know how new years are about new beginnings? It’s the best news, isn’t it, that Ollie and Jenna are about to welcome their baby into the world. I wish you were here to share in it. There’s something miraculous about the birth of a baby.
They’ll be wonderful parents. It makes me wish I’d been a better one. Wish I’d seen you, Lexie. Who you really were, rather keeping seeing you as the child I’d brought up, or the typical teenager I believed you’d become, all of them through the lens of motherhood.
Those childhood days passed so quickly. Your ready smile, your irrepressible spirit, where did they go?
Did something happen to you? I was aware that something was different.
I remember asking you what was on your mind.
You were fifteen, it was New Year’s Eve; we had a party to go to. But you were hanging back.
It’s just another year, Mum. January 1st is just another day. The same as every day of the week, but no-one thinks about what that means.
That’s why people celebrate, I tried to explain to you. It’s the one day a year they do think about it. They take stock, think about changes they want to make. To celebrate what’s been, what’s yet to come. That’s good, isn’t it?
You’re just saying exactly what everyone else says. For one day a year, they think about the important stuff that the rest of the time they forget. But you know what I mean. I know you do.
You were right. But you were more aware than anyone else I’d met.
An empath, who felt the pain of the world – I had no idea where it had come from, that part of you.
Most people didn’t appreciate that the beginning of each new day wasn’t to be taken for granted.
For a long time, I was one of them, when I should have celebrated every second of every day of my life that had you in it.
But too often, we only treasure things after we’ve lost them.
* * *
‘I picked these on the way.’ I went to the garden this morning as the sun rose, watching it cast the landscape in early morning light.
I lift the buckets of spring flowers onto the bench: the first parrot tulips, many kinds of narcissi, lengths of the cherry blossom you loved.
‘And these.’ I lift up another bucket filled with twigs bearing the tiniest of leaf buds.
‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’ Lucy gazes at them. ‘Best decision you made, growing flowers, Edie.’
‘I love it.’ I never used to be a gardener. But my cutting garden has become my sanctuary. ‘I saw Mary this morning. I gave her a bunch of tulips.’ In exchange for rent, we give her flowers.
‘What would we do without her?’ Lucy says.
‘We’d have found somewhere else. But it wouldn’t be anything like as lovely.
’ I frown slightly. ‘She looked frail – it’s the first time I’ve thought that.
I wonder if the house isn’t getting too much for her.
’ The huge country house is where she’s lived most of her life.
The sound of a phone buzzing reaches me. ‘Yours, I think,’ I say to Lucy.
She shakes her head. ‘It’s yours.’
Finding it, I see Ollie’s face on the screen. ‘Ollie! Hi! How are you?’
‘Jenna’s in labour,’ he says quickly. ‘We came in a couple of hours ago. I just thought you’d want to know.’
My mind empties. ‘Oh wow.’ Then, as I stand there, my brain kicks into gear. ‘You need to go, Oll. Send her my love. Good luck… Keep me posted…’ The call ends and I turn to Lucy, a feeling of wonder taking me over. ‘The baby’s coming.’ Ollie and Jenna’s baby. My first grandchild.
It’s just as well it isn’t the busiest of days.
Instead of focused on work, my mind is completely scattered.
The arrival of the baby takes me back – to when Ollie made his entrance into the world.
In a hurry, we only just made it into the hospital.
Then a couple of years later, after a long, protracted labour as if you were reluctant in some way, you were born.
The call comes later that afternoon. ‘The baby’s here.’ Ollie sounds giddy, breathless. ‘They’re both fine, Mum. She’s beautiful.’
‘Oh.’ For a moment, I’m speechless. ‘Oh, Ollie. Of course she is!’ Babies are stardust, magic, joyful. ‘This is the best news! Congratulations!’
‘Thanks, Mum! I still can’t believe it.’ He sounds slightly dazed.
It’s how I felt, when Ollie, then you, came into the world. Disbelieving, almost, that after all the waiting, you were here. ‘You probably want some time to yourselves… But let me know when I can come and see her.’
‘Come any time,’ he says. ‘We can’t wait for you to meet her.’
‘Then I’ll come on my way home!’ My mind is already buzzing. ‘I’ll see you soon.’ Putting down my phone, I gaze at Lucy.
‘You’re a grandma!’ Lucy says. ‘Look at you! You love it already, don’t you?’ She pauses. ‘I can’t wait for Mia to have one.’
‘It feels like the next best thing to having your own.’ I can’t keep the smile off my face.
I’m on cloud nine as the next hour passes. After leaving work early, on my way home, I call in to the hospital.
Jenna looks tired, but her eyes shine with love as she holds her tiny baby. ‘Edie! Thank you for coming.’ She glances down at her, then back at me. ‘Meet your granddaughter!’
‘Oh!’ I’m transfixed. I’ve forgotten how tiny newborn babies are, how miraculous the beginning of a new life is. I look at Jenna, then Ollie. ‘She’s gorgeous.’ I pause. ‘Have you decided on her name?’
‘Harriet Alexia,’ Ollie says softly. ‘Are you OK with that?’
Alexia, named for you. ‘How could I not be?’ My eyes blur as I gaze at your namesake. ‘It’s perfect.’ I look at them both. ‘It’s the loveliest name.’
Jenna smiles. ‘We thought so.’ She glances at Ollie. ‘We’re going to call her Harrie for short.’
‘I like that too.’ Harrie, I whisper, touching one of her tiny hands; very slowly she stretches, as if she knows.
Harrie’s arrival makes me think of you; how you would have loved being her auntie. She also signifies the beginning of a brand-new chapter; perhaps the closing of a door on an old one. The only problem being that I’m not ready to let go of those old ones.
* * *
There have been many chapters in our lives. Many doors that close. And there are those that stay cracked open, long after they shouldn’t.
That’s how it was for me with Ryan. I couldn’t seem to stop myself from going back, just now and then. The fact is, I was sorry for him. Ryan has an illness he has no control over. And I also knew he didn’t have anyone else.
After leaving the hospital, I call in on him. Sitting in front of the TV, he has a beer and a bag of crisps on the table in front of him. He turns his head slightly when he hears me come in, yet says nothing.
The passing of time, the rollercoaster of our lives, losing you, none of it has changed him.
I’m starting to think nothing will, that Ryan’s decline is as inevitable as night following day.
Right now, knowing he’s in one of his dips, after another job he no longer has, his world has shrunk smaller still, leaving a cloud of responsibility hanging over me.
His sitting room is musty, untidy; littered with empty bottles and cans, mostly unbranded whisky and cheap beer. I go to open a window. ‘How are you?’ I ask.
‘Fine.’ He shrugs. It’s what he always says.
‘Have you done anything today?’ By that, I mean have you looked for any jobs. The money I gave him when I bought him out wasn’t going to last forever.
‘I really don’t need you on my case, Edie.
’ He sighs heavily. ‘I’ll tell you if anything changes.
’ That word again. Change. It’s a word that doesn’t belong in Ryan’s life.
Going into the kitchen, I plate the food I’ve brought him, then take it through.
As I put it down in front of him, he looks up. ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘You need to eat.’ As I look at him, I notice his face is gaunt, his clothes hanging off him. I think about telling him he’s a grandfather. But it won’t change anything. Besides, I’m not sure Ollie would want me to. ‘You’ve lost weight, Ryan.’ I pause. ‘Do you think you should see a doctor?’
‘Do we have to go through that again?’ he says wearily.
It’s the sum total of our communication. We’re bound by the past we shared, but he can’t even talk about the loss of you.
* * *
Back at home, I make a cup of tea and take it outside. The night sky is blurred by a fine layer of mist. I think about Harrie, my heart filling with love. But then Ryan is back in my mind.
Sadness washes over me. But I know what Lucy would say.
You’ve done what you can for him. His choices aren’t your responsibility. There’s help out there if Ryan wants it. But that’s the thing. He doesn’t.
And that’s what I battled, all the years you were growing up. Ryan didn’t really want to change. I could see what it was doing to us, but he refused to. And it broke us.
The only way I can make sense of the past, of my mistakes, of my misguided desire to keep our family together, is the love I have for Ollie and you. Sitting on the garden bench where we all sat so many times together, I close my eyes for a moment; let my mind fill with a hundred images of you.
* * *
Harrie’s arrival is a reminder of the cycle of life, death and rebirth that is time-old, will go on long after we have gone. It brings me back to how short our lives are; how precious each minute is. That whatever else is going on, there are moments of joy to be found.
‘You are so gorgeous!’ I smile down at Harrie where she’s snuggled on the sofa.
‘She doesn’t sleep,’ Jenna says. ‘She’s a little owl, awake half the night.’ She yawns. ‘I’m exhausted.’ There are shadows under her eyes.
‘If you like, I could take her out,’ I offer. ‘In her pram – for a walk. You could have a nap.’ But I can see from her face, she’s reluctant. ‘It’s OK,’ I say. ‘It was ages before I let Ollie out of my sight.’ I glance at my son. ‘Why don’t you come with us?’