Page 21 of A Mother’s Last Wish

21

HOLLY

I could tell something was wrong as soon as Tom came back into the garden. He kept saying it was nothing and when I still pushed, he shot me a look that could have frozen water. I knew then not to say anything else in front of the children, but an hour later, when we’d finally tempted them out of the garden, with the lure of ice cream and yet another viewing of Lilo and Stitch , he fell to pieces. When he told me what Lou had said, how upset she’d been, and that she’d insisted on getting a taxi to our parents’ flat, of all places, I felt that baseball-bat-to-the-stomach sensation again, and Tom must have seen how hard it hit me.

‘I shouldn’t have told you everything she said. She doesn’t mean it; she’s just lashing out because she’s scared and in pain.’

Mum said a version of the same thing when I called to check how Lou was. I’d tried phoning Lou directly, but she didn’t pick up my calls and my messages have gone unread too.

‘She’ll be home again soon, I’m sure of it. She’s just really sad and she needs a bit of space; it’s nothing you’ve done, sweetheart.’ Mum hasn’t used a term of endearment like that in years, and the only comfort I took from the call was that she sounded stone-cold sober, seeming to understand at last how important it is that she keeps a proper eye on Lou. But I couldn’t take comfort from her attempts to reassure me that I’ve done nothing wrong, because she doesn’t know the full story. This whole time I’ve been telling myself that I was doing what Lou wanted and stepping in to fill her shoes, so that the children don’t feel like they’re missing out. I painted myself – if only in my own mind – as some kind of selfless, paragon of virtue, doing all of this to help my poor sister out. Except that isn’t true. Of course I want to help out and to be there for Lou, Tom and the children, but I’ve been doing it for me too. This is the first time I’ve felt truly needed for a long time. Tom and Lou have always made me feel wanted, but this is different, I felt their desperation to have me there and a part of me liked the fact that I was suddenly an integral part of a family, rather than an add-on who was happily accommodated. Don’t get me wrong, I’d have traded my new role for Lou to get her health back in a heartbeat. I’d give anything to go back to how things were if it meant she was well again. And if it was possible, I’d even give up having any role in her family’s life at all, if it meant she wouldn’t die. Except that’s not a trade-off anyone can make. But somehow I might still have blown it, and lost my place in Lou’s life. I hope to God that this is something we can get over, but the limits on the time she has left make the separation even more painful.

She’s been at our parents’ place for less than forty-eight hours, but I’ve been terrified the whole time she’s been there that she isn’t being properly looked after. The palliative care team have already been in touch, and a first meeting has been scheduled to coincide with Mira’s next visit. Suddenly this doesn’t just feel like the beginning of the end any more, it feels as if we’re racing at breakneck speed towards the end of the end, and my sister still won’t speak to me.

From day one, I thought her plan to try and line someone else up for Tom was crazy; I only played along with it in an attempt to help her find some peace, but I’m scared now that I somehow crossed a line without even realising it. I told myself that going along with the idea was for her benefit, but I should have been able to reassure her that she didn’t need to worry and that she can trust Tom to pick the right person, if and when the time eventually comes. But the truth is that I’m almost as scared as she is of the decision he might make. I can’t lose Tom or the children, and I’m terrified that one day someone will come along who doesn’t just step into Lou’s shoes, but takes my place too. In reality, I know that my sister is irreplaceable, but I don’t think the same can be said for me. My life has been lived in parallel with hers, but I can see now that it’s left me very little that’s really my own.

Right now, I feel closer to Tom than I do to anyone else. He’s the only person I want to talk to, and I’m confused about what that means. I’m not in love with my brother-in-law, but what I feel for him has changed and maybe Lou has picked up on my confusion. Even if she hasn’t, I can see why she might feel as if I’m pushing her out. I’ve been trying to help out and anticipate what might be needed, but I’ve got a horrible feeling that means I’ve overstepped the mark, and taken away the bits of parenting from her that she could still have done. I don’t know what to do with myself, or how to make it better, and I’ve barely slept since Lou walked out, but I still can’t rest.

Ever since Lou’s diagnosis, I’ve found myself wishing my grandmother was still around. She always knew the right thing to say, or do, to make things a little bit better, even in the worst of situations. Although she never had to face anything as horrific as this, and I suppose it’s a small mercy she isn’t here having to witness what’s happening to Lou. Yet I wish she was. I need to ask her how I can put things right with my sister, and still be there for Tom and the kids as well. I’ve spent so much time working with cancer charities, that until this happened, I would have sworn I’d know exactly how to react if someone close to me was diagnosed. The reality is there’s no magic formula for this, and nothing can make what Lou is going through okay, but my brain can’t seem to stop searching for a solution, so I keep walking, with no more idea of where I’m going than I have of what to do.

St Martin’s. I didn’t expect to end up here and I certainly didn’t plan to, but perhaps the draw to the church has something to do with me missing my grandmother so much right now. Nan was always a confidante to me and Lou, someone we could talk to about anything. She was also the one person who really understood how much our parents’ addiction, their on-again off-again relationship, and our mother’s absence, really affected us. Her ashes are buried in the churchyard and we shared so many landmark family days here. So it’s where I feel closest to her.

‘Nan.’ I murmur the word as I take a seat on the bench outside the church, close to the spot where both my grandparents’ ashes are buried. There’s a whisper on the wind through the trees in front of me, almost like she’s responding, and I close my eyes, trying to imagine what she would say if she was here, but I can’t.

‘Please help me.’ I don’t even realise I’ve said the words out loud until there’s a response.

‘What do you need help with?’ My eyes shoot open and Kate is standing there. Heat rises up my face at the realisation that she’s caught me talking to myself, but I quickly shake off the embarrassment. Kate is a lay minister, she must have seen and heard it all, and I need to speak to someone.

‘I’ve messed up. I’ve hurt my sister, at a time when she needed me most and I don’t know what to do to put it right.’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Kate has such a gentle tone and I nod in response. I can’t imagine there’s any way she can help, but perhaps just laying it all out there will help me make sense of it.

‘Shall I sit down?’ I nod again and she takes a seat beside me, not pushing me to start talking. We sit like that in silence for a few seconds, while I try to work out where to begin so that she doesn’t think I’m an awful person. But this is not about trying to come out in a good light to Kate, it’s about being able to reconnect with Lou. That’s all that matters.

‘I think I’ve done something to make things worse. I mean, I didn’t think that was even possible in a situation like this, but it turns out it is. I’ve driven Lou out of her own home, by taking over and making her feel as if she’s not needed.’

‘I think it’s only natural to want to do as much as you can to help, but maybe you just need to talk to Louisa about what she wants support with, and what she’d rather be left to deal with herself. Serious illness takes away a lot of autonomy for people, and it can challenge their perception of themselves. If Louisa thinks you see her differently too, as someone who can’t do anything much without help, she’s quite likely to lash out. She’s got every right to be angry about what she’s going through, but it’s not directed at you, not really.’

‘I think it is. She won’t take my calls or answer my texts. I can’t remember a day when we didn’t exchange at least one message, and it feels like there’s a gaping hole where those conversations should be.’ I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but it turns out to be just one more promise I haven’t been able to keep. ‘And the worst part is that even if we sort things out, I know an even bigger hole is going to open up when she’s gone and we’re wasting precious time not talking, when we’ve got so little of it left.’

‘Oh Holly, I’m so sorry.’ Kate hugs me for a moment, but I pull away, suddenly feeling as if I’m suffocating, rising panic washing over me.

‘I’ve got to get this sorted.’ I move to get up, but Kate puts a hand out to restrain me.

‘I know, but this needs to be on Louisa’s terms and, if she thinks you’ve taken over, you demanding that this all gets sorted out here and now might not be the best course of action. I know you want to fix things, Holly, and anyone can see how much you and Louisa love one another, but perhaps you need to let her come to you.’

‘What if she doesn’t come to me?’

‘She will.’

‘I don’t know, what she said to Tom made it sound like she hates me. She thinks I’m trying to take her place with her husband and her children, and I’m worried that I am.’ I can’t look at Kate as I speak, scared that I’ll see the judgement in her eyes. ‘I love them all so much, and from the moment Lou was diagnosed she said her biggest fear was leaving a gap in the kids’ lives, because of what happened to us as children. She started talking about what a great team Tom and I were, and how she hopes that one day he finds someone like me to bring into the children’s lives. I’ve never thought of Tom that way, he’s been like a brother to me, but I played along with the idea for Lou’s sake. Except now I’ve realised it might not just have been for Lou’s sake. I liked the feeling of being needed, and of having the children want to come to me. I’ve got closer to Tom than I’ve ever been. I love him.’

Kate’s intake of breath is audible, but I’m already shaking my head. She doesn’t understand and I’m not sure I did really, until now. ‘I’m not in love with him, but I do love him on a level I didn’t before. He’s the one person who really understands how this feels for me, and we’ve been spending a lot of time together, even when Lou isn’t around, because we can be truly honest with one another. There’s nothing inappropriate about it. I could never… I would never, but maybe that’s not how it looked to Lou. Maybe she thinks I took the things she said about us being the perfect team seriously, but no one can take her place, least of all me.’

‘The idea of someone taking her place – even you – was abstract when it first came into her head. She spoke to me about it not long after her diagnosis and it felt to me like a distraction from facing reality. It was a fixation on something she believed she could control, when everything else felt so out of her control. But seeing you with the children and Tom has forced her to confront the reality of what her family might look like without her. She doesn’t want to imagine that, and she doesn’t want to let them go. That’s why she’s angry, not because of you.’

‘I get it, I really do, and I want to give her the time she needs to process everything and let me in again, but like I said before, I’m terrified of how much time we’re losing, when there’s so little of it left.’

‘I don’t think it will be long, but if she hasn’t come home by tomorrow, I’ll talk to her.’

‘She’ll hate me even more if she thinks I’ve talked to you about it.’

‘I won’t tell her that, but she might open up to me again and hopefully I can help her realise sooner rather than later that the anger she’s feeling is completely justified, but that the only place it should be directed is at the cancer.’

Kate makes it all sound so easy, but I think she’s wrong. Lou has a right to be angry with me too, because it felt as if a place inside of me – a void that’s been empty for so long – was filled up when I stepped into her shoes, with Tom and the children. Whatever Kate says I still hate myself for that, and I can’t blame Lou if she does too.