Lily hurried forward to grab her hand. ‘Never.’
Her father came to the other side of Gran and held her other hand, as Denise stood to the side.
‘You know I’m going soon,’ said Gran, her pupils dilated and her words slurred.
‘Where’s that, Mum?’ asked Peter.
‘Home,’ said Violet with a smile.
Lily nodded. ‘Yes, home again, Gran – the cottage is waiting for you.’
Violet smiled and for a moment, she looked like a little girl.
‘Sing for me, Lily, one more time.’
‘Oh, Gran, there will be plenty of singing in the cottage when you’re home. I’ve been playing the piano again,’ she said to her but Gran shook her head.
‘Sing Cole Porter, one more time,’ she said, almost fervently.
Lily felt her voice tighten in her throat but then she took a deep breath and started to sing ‘Ev’ry Time We Say Goodbye’, softly, the rhythm of the heart monitor being her only accompaniment.
The old woman closed her eyes and nodded, in time to the song, and gave a deep sigh, a smile on her face.
As Lily came to the end of the song, she felt Nick’s hand on her shoulder.
‘She’s gone, Lil,’ she heard him say and she looked at Gran, so still, with the smile on her face, her features softened, without pain or worry. And the heart monitor was still, a single line, sounding like an oboe note playing in the background.
She looked to her father who was hugging Denise and crying.
‘Gran? Gran?’ she said. She looked at Nick. ‘Do something. Can’t you restart her heart, do CPR, something?’
Nick shook his head. ‘No, she signed an order, no heroic measures, Lily. She was tired; she was ready to go.’
Lily put her head on Gran’s hand.
‘I love you so much,’ she said to her grandmother for the last time in her presence.
38
Violet’s thin body was propped up by pillows as she lay on the hospital bed, and her breath came out in short, uneven gasps. She was surrounded by a continuous beep from the heart monitor, which rang around her like a distant rhythm, as well as the sterile air of the room, combined with the slight scent of antiseptic that clung to the sheets and made her feel ill. She was able to hear it, but it seemed to be very far away, as if it had lost its connection to her for some reason. Why couldn’t she get back?
A deep, unrelenting pressure caused her chest to ache with each and every breath that she took.
Her body was dying. This was it, the end, curtains, show’s over. For months she had been aware it was coming, and this was why she couldn’t go to a nursing home. She had to do things, set them right before she left. Now they were as right as they were going to be, she thought.
It was a strange feeling, this dying business. It sounded like there was a party happening in another room, talking and laughing and some music playing, but she was too drowsy to join. She didn’t mind. She had been to enough parties in her time; she was happy to lie here and listen for a while.
But it felt as though the world around her was slipping away from her, becoming something less concrete, or less certain. It was almost impossible to explain, just like a baby can’t explain what being born is like. It was the same thing, she realised.
She opened her eyes and the room flickered in and out of focus. She saw that the bright lights of the hospital were gradually dimming, and in their place, she saw her cottage, so snug, so perfect, where she had spent most of her adult life. There were the flowered curtains, the wooden beams, her armchair by the heater, the kitchen table, the initials carved into the wood, the windowsill where she had sat for countless mornings, watching the garden and its creatures.
She could see the garden as it used to be. The flowers swaying in the breeze and the apple trees laden with fruit. Martin was visible in the distance, standing just beyond the tree line. He was there, hands in his pockets, smiling at her, waiting. He had been waiting a long time, she thought. She should apologise for living so long but then she wouldn’t have had all this time with Lily.
She smiled at him, and lifted her hand in a wave. ‘In a minute,’ she said to him.
His smile was clear, warm, and full of love. His body was blurry at the borders, but his smile was distinct.
‘Not long now,’ he called back to her, and his voice carried on a gentle breeze.
