The Moment She Left (38 page)

Eager to know who the next instruction was for, Andee looked at the list as an encouragement for Rowzee to continue.

‘Bill and Pamela,’ Rowzee stated. ‘I’m leaving Pamela the Coach House in my will, naturally, but if I make it through the op I’d love Bill to feel welcome to move in with us. I know he already has a lovely home of his own, but he’ll be a tremendous support to Pamela if he’s with us as we navigate our way through the rough seas ahead.’ Mischievously she added, ‘I’m being a bit selfish here, because if I am around I’m going to need
some help dealing with Pamela myself. She’s very cross with me about this, you know?’

‘Cross?’ Andee echoed.

‘It’s her way of trying to cope. Cover it all up with a show of chagrin and outrage and no one will know how she’s really feeling. Of course I can see right through it, we all can, and I suppose it’s a part of what makes us love her so much.’ As her eyes filled with tears, she said, ‘I know how I’d feel if the shoe was on the other foot, but I probably wouldn’t be quite so loud or bossy about it.’ Laughing, she added, ‘I think this list is about as bossy as you can get, so it just goes to show how similar we are. Anyway, I’d like you to assure Bill that I am very happy for him to live with us if he can bear it. I’ll tell him myself, of course, but if you can add your voice to mine he’ll be more inclined to believe it.’

Having no problem with that Andee sat back as their coffee arrived, and was about to take a sip of hers when she noticed Rowzee having difficulty lifting her cup. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked worriedly.

Rowzee stared at her trembling hand. ‘It’ll pass,’ she replied.

‘Can I get you something?’

By way of an answer Rowzee lifted the weakened hand and broke into a smile. ‘Just making sure,’ she explained.

Realising she was testing herself for signs of a stroke, Andee said, ‘Why don’t you let me drive you home?’

‘But we haven’t finished, and I promise you, I’m fine. Maybe another ITA.’

Realising she meant TIA, Andee watched her closely as she blinked a few times, as though clearing her eyes, and took a couple of breaths.

‘Charles is next,’ she declared, after consulting her book. ‘I haven’t finished writing to him yet, but I will. I know what he did was terrible, but I want him to know that he’s always had a special place in my heart, and that I understand even good people are capable of doing bad things, and not always intentionally. Of course, I’ve no idea what was really going on his mind all that time, only he can tell us that, and only he has to live with his conscience. I just don’t think it’s my place to sit in judgement when we have a Maker to do that for us. Do you believe in God?’

Startled, Andee said, ‘I’m not sure. Probably when it suits me.’

Rowzee smiled. ‘I’ve always been a bit like that, ambivalent one day, at church the next. I find myself more willing to believe now, probably just in case.’

Wondering just how brave she was really feeling, and suspecting not very, Andee reached for her hand.

Seeming grateful, Rowzee met her eyes for a moment, allowing their unexpected but nonetheless special bond a silent recognition before she returned to her notes. ‘As I said, I’m in the middle of writing a letter to Charles. I’ll do a separate one for Gina, I think, and if you don’t mind making sure they get them . . . Have they gone to the States yet?’

‘No, they won’t be able to leave until after the trial and . . .’

‘Trial?’

Realising the latest news had either slipped her mind, or somehow passed her by, Andee said, ‘Charles has received an additional charge of failing to notify the coroner, so the case has to go to Crown Court.’

Rowzee blinked. ‘Will he go to prison?’ she asked worriedly.

‘Possibly, but whether he does or doesn’t, it’s going to be difficult for him to go to the States once he has a criminal record.’

Rowzee nodded slowly as she digested the problems facing the Stamfields. ‘It’s going to seem strange not having them at the Hall,’ she remarked sadly. ‘Do you think they’ll really sell it?’

‘That certainly seems to be the intention, but I guess only time will tell.’

Coming out of a kind of reverie, Rowzee said, ‘And maybe I’ll never know, so I don’t think I’ll trouble myself with it,’ and she returned to her list.

Finding her remarkable in so many ways, Andee drank more coffee as the notebook pages were turned and consulted, until Rowzee finally closed it. ‘I think that’s all for now,’ she declared.

Wondering if she’d had a change of heart about something, or if she was running out of energy, Andee said, ‘I hope you’re not forgetting about yourself as you make plans for everyone else.’

Appearing surprised, Rowzee said, ‘But this is all about me and what I want.’

Smiling as she conceded the point, Andee said, ‘No dying wishes for Graeme?’

A twinkle immediately lit Rowzee’s eyes. ‘Where my brother’s concerned I shall have to come at things a different way, but never fear, I have it all worked out.’

Laughing, Andee watched her unlock her phone to read a text.

With a sigh, Rowzee said, ‘Graeme’s just left the surgeon’s office. I know he didn’t doubt what I was telling him, the way Pamela did, but I think it’s a good thing that he’s had a chat with Mr Mervin himself. He’ll want to understand more about the procedure. Men do, don’t they?’

Not disagreeing, Andee continued to watch her, and suddenly felt bold enough to ask if she was afraid.

As Rowzee’s gaze drifted off towards the bay, she said, ‘
Nothing in his life became him like the leaving it.
’ After a while her eyes returned to Andee. ‘A line from
Macbeth
,’ she told her, ‘spoken by Malcolm. I find myself surprised by some of the things I remember, and I wonder why they come floating up to the surface when they do, either in parts or sometimes even as a whole.’ She smiled tenderly. ‘To answer your question, I don’t feel afraid today, but I’m sure I will when it comes time to go under and I have no idea whether I’ll be coming back. I just hope I don’t do anything to upset anyone or to disgrace myself. I really wouldn’t like that.’

The following week Graeme drove Rowzee to the Infirmary where she was to undergo a series of pre-surgery scans, blood tests, and all sorts of other health checks before her appearance, as she’d taken to calling
it, in the operating theatre the next morning. There were no lines to learn for this performance, no moves, no anything to tax her dramatic skills at all. Mr Mervin was going to take the lead with his support cast of doctors and nurses, and all sorts of medical props and paraphernalia (they might even have an audience somewhere in a gallery), and all she had to do was put her trust in them and try to let go of everything else.

‘Deep breaths and positive thinking,’ had been Norma’s advice on the phone last night. ‘And if you can manage a little meditation you should find it very soothing.’

‘You’re darned well going to get through this or I’ll come in there and box your silly ears,’ were Pamela’s parting words this morning as she squeezed Rowzee to within an inch of her life.

‘Are you sure you understand about not coming today?’ Rowzee had asked her gently.

‘Yes, of course,’ Pamela promised tearfully. ‘I know I’ll just get stressed and cross and start upsetting people, and that’s the last thing any of us needs. I’ll be there tomorrow though, when they put you under, and I won’t be leaving again until I can take you with me.’

‘Hopefully not in a box,’ Rowzee tried to joke, and immediately wished she hadn’t.

‘That’s not going to happen,’ Pamela told her tenderly. ‘You’re darned well going to get through this, or I’ll never speak to you again.’ That was before she’d threatened to come and box Rowzee’s silly ears, or maybe it was after. It hardly mattered, but silly ears? What was silly about her ears, other than the fact that
she was even wondering about it now when there was so much else to be thinking about?

‘Did Mr Mervin tell you about his satnav for the brain?’ she said chattily to Graeme, her words feeling like high-strung piano notes over booming chords of dread. ‘That’s what’s happening today, I think. They’re doing scans for him to use with this special navigation system so he’ll know exactly where to go and how to get there. Apparently he was one of the surgeons who got the funding for this system at Frenchay Hospital in Bristol. It was the first hospital in the country to have it and the fourth in the world, and it’s saved so many lives.’ Had he said that? Yes, she was sure he had. ‘So, he’s top in his field, he’s even taught surgeons from all over the world how to use it so we mustn’t worry about him being able to do his job, because if anyone can weed out this tumour without damaging the artery he can.’

‘I have every confidence in him,’ Graeme stated firmly, ‘and in you.’

Not sure about herself, Rowzee did her best to fight down an onslaught of dragons – butterflies had been defeated long ago – and tried taking one of Norma’s steadying breaths as they turned into the hospital grounds.

‘You’ll be fine,’ Graeme assured her, taking her hand as she suddenly sobbed. ‘And you know I’m never wrong.’

Spluttering a laugh, Rowzee said, ‘It’s lucky, isn’t it, that they don’t have to shave my head, only the part where they’re going in, so at least I won’t be bald when
I come out,’
or when I go to see Victor and Edward
, she didn’t add. Her beloved husband and son. They were waiting for her in heaven, and if she knew for certain she was going to join them this wouldn’t be half so bad.

Finally finding a parking space, Graeme came round to open the door for her and pulled her into his arms.

‘You know the weirdest thing,’ she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder, ‘is that I don’t feel ill at all.’ She pulled back to look up into his eyes. ‘Will you stay with me for a while after they’ve checked me in?’ she asked.

‘Of course,’ he promised. ‘I’ll be here for as long as you want me to be.’

There was something else she wanted to say to him, but with so much going on inside her – fear and worry, hope and even a strange sort of intrigue and excitement at the prospect of possibly seeing Victor and Edward – she couldn’t reach through it to all the reminders she’d given herself. Not to worry, she was sure they were written in her notebook, and even if they weren’t, Graeme was going to be with her for as long as she wanted him to be, and that was all that really mattered.

It was just after ten the next morning when Andee brought coffees and pastries to the hospital waiting room where Rowzee’s entire family, apart from her great-nephew Alfie, was already gathered. Even Jason was there, looking worried and unsure of himself and relieved to see Andee. She knew Norma would have come too had there been anyone to take care of Sean, but she’d promised to call her as soon as there was some news.

It was lucky no one else wanted to use the waiting room for there wasn’t a single spare seat, though Bill and Graeme were quick to get up to make a space for Andee.

‘I’m so glad you came,’ Pamela murmured, hugging her. ‘You might keep us all from going to pieces.’

Hugging her too, Graeme said, ‘It came to her just before I was leaving last night, that she wanted you to be here today if you could spare the time.’

‘Of course I can,’ Andee assured him, suspecting that Rowzee had wanted someone to be there for her brother if things didn’t go well. He’d be strong for his sons, naturally, and his sister and nieces, but it would matter a lot to Rowzee that he’d have someone to turn to himself.

Graeme was saying, ‘She asked if you could use one of your police holds on Pamela should she decide to give Bill another biff.’

Having been told about Pamela’s burst of frustration, Andee couldn’t help but smile as Graeme explained it to the others and Bill blew a kiss to his slap-happy sweetheart. ‘Did you see her before she went in?’ she asked, after embracing Pamela’s daughters and Graeme’s remarkably unalike sons, whom she’d met for the first time at Jessica’s funeral.

‘Briefly,’ Pamela replied, ‘and she was high as a kite – or fabulously chillaxed, as she informed us, like she’d gone back to being a hippy. She told the surgeon that she hoped he was a good hairdresser, because she was very particular about looking her best at all times, and even before he could answer she was gone. Well, not
gone in that sense, just out of it, you know, and I didn’t get the chance to tell her I love her, none of us did and I can’t bear that she might think we don’t . . .’

‘Don’t be daft, Mum,’ Katie chided. ‘She knows very well how much we love her.’

‘But I wanted her to hear it.’

‘Then you can tell her as soon as she comes round,’ Lucie put in firmly.

Pamela looked at her younger daughter and smiled through her tears. ‘That’s a lovely thing to say,’ she told her. ‘Yes, I’ll tell her when she comes round.’

‘Have they given you any idea of how long the surgery’s likely to take?’ Andee asked.

Graeme said, ‘Between three and four hours. After that she’ll be in the recovery room for two to three hours before they move her to the high-dependency unit overnight.’

‘We probably won’t be able to see her until tomorrow morning,’ Pamela added, ‘provided the worst hasn’t happened, of course. Oh please God, don’t let them damage that artery and cause her to have a stroke, please, please, please.’

Graeme said, ‘If it doesn’t happen during surgery, which obviously we’re praying it won’t, it’ll be about twelve hours before they’ll feel confident that the operation has been a success. If it is she should be ready to come home in about a week.’

Already knowing that an intensive course of radiotherapy would then follow, possibly chemo too, Andee sent her own silent prayer for success and sat down on the chair Bill was insisting she take to begin the long
wait. The longer the better, she realised, for if anything disastrous occurred they’d probably be notified straight away.

For the next hour or more, led by Pamela and Graeme, everyone told their favourite Rowzee story, leading to far more laughter than seemed right for a hospital waiting room, yet everyone knew it was exactly what Rowzee would have wanted. Naturally, there were tears too, and even the odd argument when Pamela insisted someone had got something wrong.