Never Google Heartbreak (28 page)

‘
When love beckons to you, follow him, though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you, yield to him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you
.’

Kahlil Gibran

‘
Love is when the person they see in you is better than the person you are, and you really want to close the gap
.’

Jem, 19, Poole

‘
Try not to anticipate love; it’s never how you think it will be. I once made a drama of it. But I’ve found love to be calm and gentle, and passion quiet and deep. Bliss comes from the certainty. My love is the staff that I lean on after one of life’s hard climbs. He’s constant and true, quick to forgive and easy company. His beauty is in his dignity, his faith, his maleness and his way of moving. He makes me laugh and laughs with and at me. This never changes and it’s been forty years
.’

Rose, 62, Yorkshire

‘Hello, it’s Vivienne Summers calling. Just to say I won’t be coming in today . . .’

‘Hello, Vivienne.’ Snotty picks up, interrupting the answer machine. Bugger!

‘Oh, hi. Morning I—’

‘You’re not coming in, did you say?’ she snaps.

‘No. My nana is in hospital.’

‘Really? What is it this time?’

‘She has pneumonia.’ Speaking that somehow makes it more real and brings a huge lump to my throat.

‘Really?’ she says again, bored.

‘I need to be with her.’

‘She’s quite a sickly woman, isn’t she, your nan?’

‘So I won’t be in.’

‘Okay!’ she sings in a threatening kind of way and hangs up.

I press ‘end call’. I’ll worry about work later.

Morning time on the ward feels busy. The bed curtains are tied back. Nurses are clearing away after the night shift. I wonder about Sarcophagus Man as I see them stripping his bed. I spot Reggie there at Nana’s bedside, holding her hand. I wait behind him for a second.

‘I was thinking of cutting back the rhododendron, but I didn’t. I know you like those flowers, my darling.’ He strokes the back of her hand with his big rough paw; then he starts singing: ‘
Dum de dum . . . exchanging glances . . . hmm hmm, what were the chances
. . . That cat you keep feeding was back this morning. Looking like it’d lost a pound and found a penny . . . Suppose I’ll give it something if it’s still there later.’

‘She can’t hear you, you know,’ I pronounce.

‘Oh, hello, Viv.’ He looks up from under straggly brows. ‘I don’t know . . . s’pose it helps me, to think she might.’ He smiles nicotine yellow. I go to the bed, pulling up the covers and arranging flowers. I kiss her cheek; her skin is dry and warm.

‘How long have you been here?’

‘About an hour.’

‘Well, go now if you like. I’m here.’

Something skids across his eyes and he glances at Nana. ‘No, I think I’ll stay a bit.’ He smiles. ‘I promised to sit with her. She hates hospitals.’

‘Yes, I know.’ I hover over him. ‘I’ll get another chair, then.’ I hear him crooning again as I walk across the ward. Why can’t he just get the message and let me be alone with her? I drag the chair to the other side of the bed and take her hand, kissing it. ‘Has the doctor been round?’

‘Not yet.’ He gives a sad little smile, like I’m the intruder.

‘Why didn’t you call a doctor out to the house before she got so ill?’

‘Ah . . . she wouldn’t have it.’

‘Should have made her,’ I mutter, frowning at the purple around the drip-feed needle.

He smiles again. ‘You know you can’t
make
Eve do anything.’

‘
Persuaded
her, then, or something. I don’t know. But she shouldn’t be in here.’

‘You’re right.’ He rubs his blunt thumb over her wrist and kisses her hand. I suddenly want to slap him away. I should be the one looking after her.

‘Tell me something, Reg: were you and my nana carrying on while Granddad was alive?’

He sits back, draws in a breath. Good, a reaction. ‘I’ve always loved her, Viv. Since the first day I saw her.’

‘Yeah . . . that’s not what I asked.’

‘She loved your granddad.’

‘He was away quite a bit, though, wasn’t he? Did that make it easier for you? Did you wait until your Alice had gone, or didn’t that matter?’

A little pulsing vein appears at his temple. ‘Now’s not the time, Viv,’ he almost whispers.

‘I think it’s the perfect time. You’re sitting here like she’s the love of your life!’

The respirator shushes. Someone on the ward is coughing up liquid.

‘She was . . . is. We were talking about getting married before all this.’

‘Oh Jesus! Now I’ve heard everything! What for?’ I almost laugh.

His rheumy old eyes look longingly at her. ‘Well, Vivienne, if you’re asking that, you’ve never been in love,’ he says softly. ‘You don’t know.’ He shakes his head, getting to his feet. ‘You don’t know.’ He walks out.

Now I’ve got what I wanted: I’m alone with Nana, but the stupid man has made me feel bad. Getting married! She would have told me. I try to shake off a hollow feeling, so I stand up and brush Nana’s hair a bit. It’s greasy. I’d like to wash it for her. I look at her bare lashes, thinking I’ll buy her a little make-up to have when she wakes. As I smooth out the covers and a wet drop lands on her neck I realise I’m crying.

I do know about love. I know how it feels to love someone and how it feels to think you might lose them.

Later I wander through the corridors, following my nose to the hospital canteen. I should eat something, I suppose. The hot food sweats, colourless and miserable. Everywhere people are dribbling soup and shuffling with trays. You really would think that a hospital canteen could be a bit more uplifting. Shouldn’t it be painted orange and be bursting with fresh stuff and health food? Shouldn’t you get a free wheatgrass shot with every alfalfa wrap?

I get coffee and a curling white sandwich, find a seat alone and begin redialling Max and listening to his answer message. The third time it clicks in I speak.

‘Hey, Max, it’s me. I’m guessing you don’t want to talk to me – I’m sharp like that. But I was wondering if you’d let me explain. Also, some stuff has happened and . . . well, I could do with a friend and you are my best friend. I take it you still want that position? Ha ha, er . . . Please, Max, give me a call.’

As I flip the phone shut, something catches my attention, like a swan on a duck pond: a beautifully cut dress of burnt-orange silk, long tanned limbs and glossy hair. She waits by the till to pay and tosses her head as she turns. Rob’s ex-girlfriend, Sam.

Oh fuck. I look down at the table, hoping she didn’t notice me, but from the corner of my eye I see she’s coming this way, sashaying in classy sandals, leaving a trail of magic and putting roses in the cheeks of the half-dead as they watch her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a posse of songbirds and Bambis in tow. I hear her heels as I study the sandwich’s ingredients panel. Click, click, click. Keep walking. Walk on by, sister! She stops. I wait.

‘Vivienne, isn’t it?’

I set my face to pleasant surprise before I look up. ‘Hello?’ I enquire. Like I’d not remember her!

‘It’s Sam. We have Rob Waters in common. We’re both his exes.’

‘Oh yes! Except I’m not . . . No, we’re back together.’ God, this is sweet! I enjoy the little wrinkle that appears between her eyebrows. ‘Yeah, I think he finally realised he couldn’t live without me . . . Probably needed a real woman, so . . .’ Why oh why oh why am I not wearing the engagement ring?

‘Is that right?’

‘Uh-huh. You see, in a way, we never really broke up. Sorry, you know, that things didn’t work out for you, though.’ I smile sympathetically.

‘Don’t be,’ she says. ‘I don’t know what he told you, but I ended it with Rob last month.’ She puts down her egg salad and inspects a perfect nail. ‘He took it quite badly, poor thing, but you see, I fell head over heels for my gynaecologist.’ She gestures towards the canteen counter to a beautiful man in doctor’s whites, his skin perfectly blue-black, like he’s carved from ebony.

‘Oh.’

‘How funny to run into you, in this dump of all places. It’s a teaching hospital and Troy’s lecturing this morning; then we’re off to France for a long weekend.’

‘Oh. Troy.’ Why doesn’t she just fuck off now?

‘And I was going to confide . . . Rob is the meanest guy I’ve ever met, but I suppose I shouldn’t now. To think, he used to make me say thank you whenever he took me for dinner!’ She giggles like a tinkling crystal bell. The doctor strolls over. With every move he oozes sex. His smile is stunning. He curls an arm around her, his dark hand appears on her hip and I suddenly imagine them having sex. It’s very beautiful and erotic and exotic . . . et cetera.

‘Hello.’ His voice is so gorgeous I’d like a tape of him saying my name.

‘Hi there.’ I give a small wave, trying to be casual, but blushing to my roots. She doesn’t bother to introduce us, just smiles into my eyes and collects her salad.

‘And by the way, that necklace you’re wearing? Rob gave that to me. I didn’t have the heart to keep it, so I gave it back when I left. It looks nice on you, though.’ I touch the diamond pendant as they turn the corner, two perfect people in love.

‘What a bitch!’ I gasp. My mind starts wildly casting about. I feel like something’s pushing down on my windpipe. She ended it with Rob! So he found himself suddenly single and thought he’d come crawling back to me, giving it that ‘I can’t live without you’ and ‘I never stopped thinking of you’ shit. Has she moved out already? I bet she moved out ages ago and he’s using her as an excuse to worm his way back into my life. The worst of it is, I believed him. He’s made a fool of me again. I take off the necklace and think about throwing it away, but this isn’t a film. I can’t go around throwing perfectly good jewellery away. I feel sick at the thought of Rob.

But wait a minute, what if she’s lying? God – how quick I am to think badly of Rob! Of course she’s lying. She would rather die than admit I’ve won. I’ve got the man she wanted and she can’t take it. Ha! Briefly I’m triumphant, but then I imagine Rob standing next to the doctor Adonis and I’m less sure.

I pull apart the bread of my sandwich crusts. If I had to bet, I’d say Rob probably lied. Most likely. But does it really matter who dumped who? We’re not at nursery school. He’s back with me like I wanted, and as he said, with him at my side I don’t need to worry about losing my job. I can do whatever I want. I could spend more time with Nana. Rob and I are getting married. That’s what I wanted, wasn’t it? He said we’d get married soon. Not like last time, though – no, this would have to be a small, classy do. I’d probably already be pregnant. I wouldn’t have to worry about money ever again. I’d be like those Chelsea mummies with their diamond earrings, clogging up Starbucks with their Bugaboos . . . or maybe not like them, but my baby would have everything.

I try to picture a baby with Rob’s pretty blue eyes, but I can’t quite see it. I put my head on the table.

I’m walking through Irish fields carrying Max’s baby in a sheepskin sling. He’s beautiful, smiling with dimples, brown as a berry with his father’s unruly black hair . . .

Next thing I know, Reg is shaking me awake.

I used to think all doctors were sexy by virtue of being heroic healers, but this one, with his red roadmap nose and leaping coffee breath, and his trainee, all stooped shoulders and trembling fingers, have bucked the trend. They talk about Nana as if they have a terrible secret and are laying out clues for us to guess it. They mention blood tests and pleural effusion.

‘What are you telling us?’ I interrupt.

‘Well, we never like to say, “Prepare for the worst,” but we’re monitoring for septicaemia.’

‘Is she dying?’

‘Septicaemia is a complication of pneumonia more common in the elderly and it accounts for about eighty per cent of fatalities . . .’ The trainee parrots his textbook.

‘Is she going to die?’

‘We can’t say at this time. A blood transfusion may be necessary, though, and we need written permission.’

‘Well, whatever you think, Doctor . . .’ Reg’s voice breaks as he reaches for the pen.

‘I’m the next of kin,’ I snap at him. ‘What do you mean, you “can’t say”?’

‘Miss Summers, your grandmother is seriously ill. The next couple of days are critical.’

‘But people don’t die of pneumonia these days. You must be doing something wrong.’ They exchange a ‘We’ve got a right one here’ glance. ‘Look, I’ve Googled it. I know.’

‘Miss Summers, I’ve Googled it too, as well as studying medicine for seven years and practising for ten. Rest assured we are doing our very best. We’ll keep you informed,’ says Roadmap Nose and with that they melt away like spirits, behind the curtain.

Reg is all shiny-eyed and useless. I look at Nana. She’s blue pale, even her eyelids. I put my face against her cheek, whispering into her hair.

‘Hold on,’ I tell her. ‘Don’t you go, Nana. You have to stay with me. I really need you.’ I don’t blink away tears. I try to will her better. One short week ago I had the luxury of taking her for granted.

I feel Reg’s hand on my shoulder. ‘It’ll be okay,’ he says. ‘She’s not going anywhere. We forbid it, don’t we?’ He pulls me in to his chest. His shirt smells of soap, and his heart pumps warm. ‘All right. It’s all right.’

I feel him rubbing my back and I want to curl into him and cry, but instead I stiffen and pull away, wiping my face. ‘I’m all right. I’m okay. I think I’ll just get some air.’

‘Viv, do you have anyone to look after you?’ His hound-dog eyes are full of concern.

‘I’m a grown-up, Reg. I don’t need looking after,’ I snort. How old-fashioned. Looking after! I stalk away with my grief flapping around me like an open coat.

Outside a humid evening is settling over the suburbs. Dark clouds bulge with rain. The road already smells of it. I set off towards the station – being at the hospital is doing me no good, sitting around there with Reg as my shadow. No, I need to get away. I need to think. I know I’ve neglected Nana recently. I mean, Rob was certainly never interested in her, and since we split up I’ve been absorbed by the break-up. I’ve been thinking a lot about the website. I’ve made heartbreak a kind of project: I’ve researched it, written about it and wallowed in it. I tried to make it more commonplace – funnier, even. But that’s the very nature of heartbreak, isn’t it? It’s unique to the sufferer; everyone feels the pain differently. It’s personal.