‘I think the next step is really up to you.’
Carole looked thoughtful. ‘How about some lunch? I’ve a fish pie in the fridge.’
For the couple of hours or so before we left, Sam and I sat back and watched as Joan clicked into conversation with her grandparents as though they were merely catching up on a few months apart, not a lifetime. It was surreal to watch how Carole tilted her head up in an exact mirror of her daughter – and granddaughter – and as she asked questions about Joan’s life, and answered many more about Leanne’s life before she’d left, the similarity in tone and cadence was mesmerising.
To my relief, Peter and Carole stayed well away from sensitive topics, such as why Leanne had left home or what had happened in the years prior to her moving to Bigley. They fought back tears many times and I could see the temptation to keep touching Joan, to stare at her. Instead, they chattered about holidays and hobbies and Leanne’s favourite school subjects. Peter was the book lover, and he would probably have spent the rest of the afternoon discussing Tolkien and C.S. Lewis if I hadn’t gently insisted (for the third time) that we really had to go.
‘Can I have your phone numbers?’ Joan asked. ‘I know you might not want to see Mum and she might not want to see you, but even if she tells me I’m not allowed to see you again, that doesn’t mean we can’t talk on the phone. I have so much more I want to tell you. And ask. Like, did Mum have a best friend, or lots of friends? Or no friends, like before she met Ollie?’
‘Joan, my darling.’ Carole’s hand shook as she took Joan’s. ‘This has been the happiest day of our lives. And there is not a chance on this earth that we won’t be coming to visit your mother. Not a chance. You could break both our legs and arms and we’d still roll and wriggle our way to Sherwood Forest.’
‘Well, hopefully you could just get a taxi instead.’
‘That’s a much better idea; we’d do that. But. What I want to say very clearly is that now you’ve found us, we are not going to do anything more behind your mother’s back. But today –oh! –we got to meetyouand hear that our girl is alive, and safe, even if she’s not well, and that is more than we dared to dream any more! We will treasure this forever. What an amazing gift, what an incredible feat, finding us like this!’
‘I don’t want to go.’ Joan burst into fretful, exhausted tears. ‘I don’t want to never see you again. It’s not fair, I’ve just found you. Mum really needs you. The shower doesn’t work and we have to borrow Ollie’s washing machine and there’s no money and now she can’t even work to get more and we need you. That’s why I found you. Not for a happy day. I don’t need you to be thinking about me. We need your help!’
As she collapsed against my chest, I tried to give Carole and Peter a look that offered some reassurance. Carole stepped close enough to hand me a Post-it with her phone number on, gesturing for me to call her later as Sam and I gently led Joan back to the car, where she wept until falling into a merciful sleep.
* * *
‘Do you want me to come in for a bit?’ Sam asked, when we finally pulled up at End Cottage.
It was nearing dinner time, and part of me wanted nothing more than to keep Sam’s reassuring presence with me for the rest of the evening. I knew he’d help make something to eat, sit nearby while I called Carole to fill her in on the details that hadn’t been appropriate to discuss that afternoon. Pour a glass of wine and maybe even hold my hand while we sat and watched the sunset.
But this evening I needed to focus on Joan, not my growing yearning for Sam’s company. Besides, I’d promised I’d call Leanne to let her know that Joan was okay, and I didn’t think I could rustle up a convincing lie while Sam was sitting watching me. I also saw the creases of fatigue at the corners of his eyes, and I remembered how he’d told me that being there for his old girlfriend Carrie had become a pressure he couldn’t carry. I suspected that the only company Sam wanted that night was his dogs.
I’d asked Pia not to bother sending a meal around, but once we’d let an exhausted (and definitely more attentive, since his day with Yasmin the Dog Mother) Nesbit into the back garden, I found a basket on my outside table, brimming with glistening blackberries.
‘Don’t eat all of them!’ I laughed at Joan’s purple lips and fingers when I brought out plates of cheese on toast for supper. ‘We’re going to make the rest into a pie tomorrow. We can take your mum a slice.’
Once she’d had a brief call with Leanne, dodging questions and chattering about nothing to avoid any more lying than necessary, Joan could barely drag herself up the stairs to bed. After checking a few minutes later that she was asleep, feeling more than a twinge of envy that I couldn’t do the same just yet, I tiptoed downstairs and phoned Carole, who immediately called Peter and switched to speakerphone.
We didn’t talk for long. I was torn between wanting to answer their torrent of questions while maintaining as much of Leanne’s confidentiality as I could. I briefly summed up her prognosis again, providing no details on how she ended up with hepatitis C or a severely damaged liver. I explained how and why Joan had ended up living with me, and Joan’s worries about what would happen longer term. When they asked how long I was able to keep taking care of her, the answer that had been incubating inside slipped out strong and sure:as long as she needs me.Finding Leanne’s parents hadn’t changed that. Instead, I felt a sharp tug of worry that maybe they would want to take her home to Chester. If it came to that, of course I wouldn’t fight it, but she’d take a chunk of my heart with her.
I wasn’t surprised to hear that they had already booked a hotel for the following night. We agreed to meet in the hospital in the morning. Carole wanted to just appear at her bedside, so that Leanne didn’t have the opportunity to refuse to see them, but Peter persuaded her otherwise.
‘She’s our daughter, my love. No matter what went on before, she knows we always loved her; she’s no reason not to see us.’
‘Then why hasn’t she? We’ve stayed, rattling around in that house of memories, so she could find us whenever she wanted to. Keeping the landline going so she could call. She’s not tried once, in fifteen years. There’s no reason to believe that’s changed.’
‘A life-threatening diagnosis and a child who needs a family are the reason,’ Peter replied steadily. ‘We’ve never gone looking for her – always given her the choice. We won’t take that from her, however devastating it might be for us. This is about her, and what she needs. We aren’t getting it wrong this time.’
‘I just don’t know if I can bear it,’ Carole wept.
Peter tried to reply, but I couldn’t distinguish any words between his rough sobs.
I had never heard the sound of true heartbreak until that phone call.
I confirmed the meeting time and ended the call, praying that this wasn’t the most terrible mistake.
* * *
A message pinged through as I rolled into bed just after nine.
Holding up OK?
Three short words that managed to create the same effect as if I’d sunk into a bath of steaming hot loveliness.
