Metanoia - Chapter 32
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32
Tom flew Rachel down after she had finished her last exam. He stayed for a few days, and explored the area. Apart from his project in the Fens, he had never really been outside Cambridge, so the experience of life in a village was entirely new to him. He went into Colchester, and visited the engineering department at the university, with an introduction from Danny. They too were very engaged with water and flood management and with developing flexible responses to rising sea levels and flood surges; Tom found himself getting intensively questioned about the work he was doing in the Fens. He flew back to Cambridge, promising to return within ten days or a fortnight.
For Rachel her summer passed in a delightful haze. Helping Sally in the garden and the vegetable patch, talking to Danny about the ideas behind her thesis (she would not know until September whether or not it had passed muster with her examiners, when she would have to return for a few days with Tom to do her viva), and resting in the shade of Frank’s old fruit trees, most of which Sally had managed to rescue from the jungle they had found when she and Danny had first returned.
November arrived, cold and blustery. The midwife, who came from West Bergholt, seemed happy with Rachel’s general fitness and progress, and prophesied the baby’s arrival by the middle of the month. Tom got an extended leave of absence to be with her at the birth. All went well, and on November 12th Rachel was safely delivered of a fine healthy baby girl. They named her Sarah.
Tom had of course been a regular visitor and, somewhat to Rachel’s surprise, knowing how dedicated he was to the project, he kept his promise to visit every two or three weeks for several days at a time. By the time Sarah was born, he and Rachel had decided they wanted to settle in the village as well. As Tom pointed out, his job could take him anywhere, and in fact he might well be involved in similar projects on the east coast, so being based in the village, with his flutter, made good sense. He, Danny and Johnny Chisholm started to look at suitable properties around the village that they could rebuild, or restore. In the end they picked old Harold the beekeeper’s house, just across the road from Frank’s. The original bungalow had long since collapsed into a pile of brick, tile and a forest of buddleia, but next to it Harold’s son in law had built a substantial two story brick house, which had withstood the ravages of the last forty years much better. Sally was worried it was too close to her and Danny - she didn’t want Rachel to feel hemmed in by her parents - but Rachel was adamant: if Tom was going to be away as much as he had been, Rachel wanted Granny on her doorstep. So that winter, Danny and Johnny made a start on refurbishing Rachel and Tom’s new home.
Work on the house proceeded steadily all through that winter and into spring. Johnny helped as often as he could. In the winter his work on the farm was not too demanding, and most days he was able to put in an appearance. Tom of course worked on it whenever he managed to get back to see Rachel and Sarah. Danny worked on it pretty much every day apart from the day or two a week when he was expected at the university to give a lecture or tutorial. By the spring equinox, all the heavy lifting had been done and it only remained to decorate the inside. Rachel started to get more involved, when the demands of Sarah and Sally’s gardening allowed. In early June, Tom got a two week break, and the little family moved into their new home.
In the autumn, Danny started to give more time to the university. They had wanted him to take on the headship of their IT and Social Physics department, but he had resisted that. In the three years that he and Sally had lived in the village, he had grown to love spending his days with her, pottering about together in the house and garden, and he had no wish to start a new career. In the end he and the university compromised. He agreed to work there for three days a week, giving two courses of lectures, and acting as tutor to some of the more senior students. He also helped the department head, who had once been his assistant in Cambridge, to develop new ideas for courses and the curriculum, and to vet research projects submitted by her doctoral students.
As little Sarah was weaned, Rachel started to join Danny on his trips to the university. Sally was more than happy to act as full time granny for one or two days in the week. As Rachel explained to her and Danny, she didn’t want to turn into a maternal vegetable. She wanted to do research on areas thrown up by her thesis, and was thinking of perhaps starting a Ph.D, and possibly teaching at the university.
The following midsummer, the village decided to hold a feast to mark the solstice. It was also a sort of village birthday celebration - it had been ten years since Johnny Chisholm and George and Joan had returned to the village, and the pub had reopened. Sam Johnson, the landlord, spent weeks brewing and distilling. Sally and other women in the village began planning and preparing food. Someone tracked down a large marquee, which they put up in the field behind the pub. It was officially open house - all the surrounding villages were sent invitations. Ironically, since the return, the village, which had once been one of the smaller communities, was now the largest and best established, and had become a focus for the surrounding communities and outlying farms.
It was a perfect English midsummer day. Fresh, with a light breeze blowing from the west, warm bright sunlight and puffy white clouds sailing slowly overhead. Sarah, naked and golden, was sitting in the sandpit Danny had made for her with leftover sand from the building work and old scaffolding boards. He was sitting in a deckchair, a beer on the ground beside him, reading one of his students’ essays. Sally was on her knees, buried in the vegetable plot, weeding and training the runner beans. Danny looked up from his essay, and as he did so, Sally looked back at him, smiling over her shoulder, pushing a wisp of white hair back over her ear. Danny smiled back at her, and she turned back to her weeding.
‘Would you like a drink?’ he called out.
Sally turned round again. ‘No, but I’d like you to come here.’ Danny struggled up from his deckchair and crossed the few metres of grass to where Sally was kneeling. He knelt down beside her. She turned to face him, and then reached forward and curled a muddy hand around the back of his neck, and pulled him towards her. Her lips met his and opened. She gave him a long languorous kiss, and rolled backwards onto her pile of weeding, pulling Danny with her. For several minutes they continued to kiss, exploring each other’s mouth and lips and faces with their tongues. They parted and Danny, propped on an elbow, looked down into her upturned smiling face. He saw, as he often did when she was lying on her back, and the sags and wrinkles of her sixty odd years fell back, succumbing to gravity, the face of the girl he had made love to that afternoon long ago. Even her now white hair just seemed a pale blonde in the sunshine.
‘Make love to me’ Sally murmured. Danny glanced in Sarah’s direction. The little girl was almost hidden behind the bean poles, utterly absorbed in her sandy excavations. He looked back down at Sally, and leant down to kiss her again. She reached for his waistband and began to undo his belt. She was only wearing a loose shift. Danny pulled her up and lifted the shift over her head, and laid it down on the pile of weeds. He reached down to slide her knickers down her thighs. She kicked them away, and wrestled his trousers off with her foot. They explored each other’s bodies with their fingers and hands, the insoles of their feet. He cupped her breast in his hand and nibbled and gently bit at her nipple. Her hand passed down his back, squeezed his buttock and reached behind and between his legs to fondle his balls and now stiffened prick. He moved his hand over her belly and down to the cleft between her thighs. She sighed. He groaned. He rose to his knees and spread her legs, and slowly pushed inside her, all the time looking down at her face, her eyes closed, faintly smiling. They came, together, long, slow, both gentle and fierce, at the end. Danny looked down at Sally. Her eyes open, a single tear formed and rolled down her cheek. She smiled up at him. There was no need for words. They lay together, under the hot sun, touching and caressing one another. Danny felt his desire returning as did Sally, when a little cry came from the sandpit. Sally sat up and quickly pulled on her shift and got to her feet. Sarah had toppled backwards out of the sandpit and lay on her back, more shocked than hurt, howling loudly. Sally stepped round the beds and quickly picked the little girl up, shushing and comforting her. Danny struggled back into his clothes, and went to join them.
Rachel returned at teatime. She had been at the university putting the final touches to her thesis before she handed it in. Normally she and Danny flew in together in his flutter, but today she had taken a spring cycle, and was hot and sweaty after the hour long ride.
‘Can I use your shower?’ she asked. ‘Was Sarah OK?’
‘She was fine’ they chorused together.
‘You two look happy’ Rachel said, smiling, squinting into the afternoon sun.
‘We are’ they chorused again, smugly. Rachel went into the house for her shower. Danny and Sally continued to sit in the garden, watching Sarah, who was now exploring the potato patch. They held each other’s hands, saying nothing.
* * *
Tom flew back from Ely for the party. His project was complete, and successful, and the new system was now providing power to most of Cambridge and Ely. He only had to return for a couple more weeks to hand over formally to the operations management and staff, before returning to the village permanently. He was hoping to join a similar project working on the Broads, or possibly in the marshes south of Colchester. Meanwhile he had plenty of work to do on their new home, and the chance to spend much missed time with Rachel and Sarah.
At about six o’clock, they all set off together for the pub at the other end of the village. Uncle Johnny joined them on the way. When they arrived the party already seemed to be in full swing. The evening was fine, and there seemed to be no threat of rain. The hog roasts had been started earlier in the afternoon, and there were tables laden with dishes that people had prepared at home and brought with them. Sally felt a pang of guilt that she hadn’t brought anything, but as Danny pointed out, she had been working on preparations for the party for weeks, so she really had nothing to feel guilty about.
Danny looked around the crowd dotted about on the field behind the pub. As far as he could tell, everyone from the village was there, and there were lots of others from the surrounding villages, some of whom he recognised. He saw John Bartram, from Colne Engaine, and waved at him, and then went over to talk to him and Wendy. A small band of fiddles, pipes and drums started to play on the far side of the field. He looked around for Sally, and saw her talking and laughing with a group from Bures.
After an hour or so, someone announced that the hog roasts were now ready to eat. George and Joan had provided the pigs. Sally and her helpers had organised people to bring salads, vegetables and bread. Many had also brought their own home brewed wines and beers. For those that hadn’t, Sam in the pub was doing a roaring trade. A particular favourite was his powerful gin, which made a delicious, if lethal, cocktail with elderflower cordial. Danny and Sally found a table, and sat down to eat their meal with George and Joan. Danny looked around. Sarah was one of the youngest guests, at a little under one year old. He realised with a shock that he and Sally, Johnny, George and Joan, were among the oldest. That, if such things existed, they now constituted the village ‘Elders’. There were seemingly dozens of youngsters, children and teenagers, and their more or less young parents and older siblings. It felt like the future of their little community was assured.
As people finished their meals, the band began to play again and, after a short while, one of the fiddlers announced the first dance, an eightsome reel. Danny asked Sally if she’d like to dance, and they got up to join the crowd gathering in front of the band. The caller walked them through the steps of the dance and then they began in earnest. It was of course chaotic, and boisterous, and quite a few tripped and fell, or collided as they turned the wrong way. The band made almost enough noise to drown the shouts and laughter. Danny noticed a couple of the younger teenagers reel away from the dance, and begin being quietly sick in the hedge. Sally and he reeled together and then apart, and each time they met up again, their eyes met and they smiled back at one another.
It grew dark. The moon, not quite full, rose into the almost cloudless sky, making what lights they had more or less redundant. They danced, and sat out, and drank, and danced some more. Someone started singing an old ballad and others joined in, chanting in rounds. At midnight, more or less - no one was checking the time - the band started Auld Lang Syne, and everyone still standing formed two concentric circles and sang along. Danny looked around for Sally, and was surprised to see her sitting on her own, away from the singing circles. He went over to her.
‘Are you alright, Sal? Why aren’t you joining us?’
‘I’m feeling a bit rough love, to be honest. Too much of John’s gin, I expect.’ Sally looked up at him, pale and frightened looking. ‘I had a fall, I suddenly felt very dizzy, and my left leg just collapsed underneath me. Could you take me home now?’ She looked as if she was about to cry.
‘Of course, love. Do you want me to find you a lift?’
‘No, thanks, I think I’ll be alright. The walk might do me good.’
They gathered up their things, and said goodnight to Tom and Rachel. Sarah was fast asleep in her moses basket, under a tree, seemingly oblivious to the noise and music and laughter all around her.
‘Are you OK, mum?’ asked Rachel, a concerned look on her face. ‘You look very pale. You sure you don’t want a lift? I think George has his trap here.’
‘No, thanks love. Dad’ll look after me. I’ll see you in the morning. Just too much of a good thing, I think. Don’t worry.’ Sally kissed Rachel, and was about to bend down to kiss Sarah, when her knees buckled and she reached out to Danny to keep her balance.
‘Come on Sal, let’s get you into bed’ said Danny, taking her arm in his. They walked round the end of the pub and onto the moonlit road, walking slowly arm in arm back towards their home. They were in sight of the house, with only two hundred metres to go, when Sally stumbled again. Danny held her up.
‘I’m not sure I can walk any more’ Sally mumbled, her voice slurred.
‘Here, get on my back, I’ll carry you’ said Danny, standing in front of her. She flung her arms loosely over his shoulders, and he bent down a little so she was lying on his back, his hands locked underneath her buttocks. He was surprised how light she seemed. She groaned a little as he plodded on down the road.
When they reached the house, he carried her straight up to their bedroom and laid her gently on their bed. He undressed her, and brought her a glass of cold water. She had already fallen deeply asleep. He felt curiously reassured by her gentle snore.
He went downstairs to make himself a cup of herbal tea, and then upstairs again. He undressed and slipped as gently as he could manage into the bed beside Sally. He realised how much he had to drink that evening, and comforted himself with the thought that that was probably all that was wrong with Sally, before he drifted off to sleep.
He woke as usual, at six, and turned on his side to look at Sally. She seemed to be sleeping peacefully, but there was something odd about her expression. The left side of her face seemed oddly slack. He remembered that the night before she had said her left leg had given way. He decided to call a doctor he knew at the university as soon as he decently could.
He rang the doctor at eight. The call was picked up almost immediately.
‘Jack, is that you?’ He heard an answering grunt. ‘I’m a bit worried about Sally, I think she may have had a stroke.’
Jack asked Danny a few questions.
‘It does sound like a stroke, but it’s not really my area. Could you bring her in? Susan Gibbons is one of our neurologists - she’d be the best person to see Sally, and assess her. The sooner the better, if it is a stroke.’
‘I don’t really want to move her. Would Dr Gibbons be prepared to come out here?’
‘I’m sure she would, but it would be much better if you could bring Sally in - Susan has lots of kit here, the stuff she’d need to do a proper assessment. And Sally should probably be kept under observation for a few days. I’ll talk to Susan, I’m sure she’ll come out if you can’t bring Sally into the centre.’
Danny paused, and thought through his options. The flutter was at Earl’s Colne. If he could leave Sally and go over to the airfield, he could fly back and pick her up from the village airstrip. He needed someone to stay with her; it would take at least an hour to get over to Earl’s Colne and fly back, and then he’d need someone to bring her to the airstrip at the other end of the village. He told Jack he’d ring him back when he had managed to arrange things. He went up to Sally, who was still sleeping soundly. He popped over the road and asked Rachel, who was giving Sarah her breakfast, if she would sit with Sally. She looked worried, and handed Sarah over to a somewhat groggy looking Tom, and rushed out of the house. Danny got his spring cycle out, and pedalled up to Johnny’s farm. Johnny was awake, sitting at his kitchen table with a glutinous looking cup of black coffee, looking distinctly the worse for wear.
‘Is it serious, Danny, do you think? She seemed fine last night, when I last saw her.’
‘I just don’t know Johnny. But I want to get her looked at as quick as we can. Can you bring her up to the airfield on your cart? I should be back in an hour, hour and a half tops.’
‘Sure, of course. I’ll get the cart out now and go down and keep Rachel company. Call me up on the radio when you’re taking off and I’ll set out with her then.’ Johnny stood up, and gave Danny a bear hug. Danny was surprised by how comforted he was by the gesture; it made him realise how deeply worried he was about Sally.
They got to the university by eleven. Sally was very groggy, and had had to be supported into and out of the flutter. Johnny had called Dr Jack, who’d arranged for a trolley and two nurses to meet them. The university medical centre was a five minute walk from the airfield. When they got to the entrance Susan Gibbons was waiting to meet them and led them straight into her examination room. Danny was reassured to see the amount of what to him looked like sophisticated technical equipment.
‘Professor, would you like to get yourself a coffee? I’ll need about an hour with Sally to do some tests.’
Danny looked at Sally. She smiled up at him, groggily, and gave a nod. He bent down and kissed her on her forehead, and gave her hand a squeeze. ‘I’ll be outside if you need me’ he murmured, and went off to find a coffee. He really felt like something a lot stronger, but he needed to keep his wits about him. And to fly home, eventually. He hoped he’d be able to bring Sally back with him. Perhaps they would let him stay with her, if they didn’t want her to go home.
There was a bench outside the medical centre, under the deep shade of a large chestnut. He sat there, sipping his coffee and then, when he had finished it, he keyed.
‘Professor?’ a quiet voice close to him. Danny opened his eyes and saw a young nurse standing in front of him. Had he fallen asleep? ‘Would you like to come in? Dr Gibbons would like to see you now.’ Danny nodded, and got to his feet, and followed the nurse back into Susan Gibbon’s room. Sally was sitting up, sipping a glass of water. Danny sat in the chair beside her.
Susan Gibbons was a short, rather fierce looking woman, in her forties, Danny guessed, with cropped dark hair. She sat silent behind her desk for a moment. Then her face lit up with a warm smile.
‘It must be very worrying for you both.’ She paused, and looked down at her notes. ‘I don’t think Sally’s had a stroke, although her symptoms, the slurred speech and loss of some function on her left side, would point to that. We have a scanner here, and I’d like to do a brain scan. It’s available this afternoon. Can you wait?’ She looked at them both. Danny nodded. Sally looked anxious.
‘Don’t worry Sally’ Susan Gibbons continued ‘it’s quite painless . . . you just have to lie down inside the scanner for twenty minutes or so . . . but the sooner we do the scan, the clearer I hope we’ll be about what your problem is. With these kinds of things, the sooner we know what the matter is, the more effective the treatment will be.’
Sally looked at Danny. ‘Can you stay with me love?’
‘Of course I can darling. Where else would I go?’ Danny patted the back of Sally’s hand, lying on the arm of her chair. She gave him a queer lop sided smile.
‘Good. I’ve booked a session for half past two. The scanner’s in the Physics department, but that’s quite close. I’ll find you a bed, if you’d like to lie down . . .’ The doctor looked at Sally questioningly. Sally nodded, looking relieved. Danny noticed how tired she looked.
Susan Gibbons called a nurse, who showed them into a pleasant airy room, with a view over the university grounds down to the Colne estuary and the sea. Sally was put into bed, propped up on pillows. Danny sat in a comfortable if rather battered armchair. The nurse closed the door, and left them alone.
‘It’s good she doesn’t think it’s a stroke, isn’t it?’ Sally said, clearly wanting Danny’s reassurance. Danny nodded, afraid to say anything. If it wasn’t a stroke, which at least he thought he understood, he couldn’t think of anything else that was less serious or frightening. He reached over and gently took hold of Sally’s hand lying on the soft cream coloured linen sheet.
A little later, one of the nurses popped her head round the door and asked if they would like something to eat or drink. They asked her for some water, and she came back after a few minutes with a tray, a carafe of water, and two glasses, and put it down on the table beside Sally’s bed. Danny sat in the armchair, his hand on Sally’s, and keyed. She didn’t say so, but he felt Sally was doing the same. There didn’t seem to be anything else they could, or should, do. The sunlight crept slowly across the parquet floor.
At about quarter past two, there was a knock. Danny got up and opened the door, and the two nurses came in with the gurney and helped Sally off her bed and onto the stretcher. They pushed her out, Danny following them, out through the back door of the small medical centre and along a path to the main university buildings.
They reached a large room after walking down several corridors. It looked much more like a laboratory than a medical facility, which of course was what it was - one of the main labs for the university physics department. There were long rows of benches with various pieces of electrical and electronic equipment which mostly appeared to be being either dismantled or assembled. The scanner was the largest piece of equipment, standing on its own in the far corner, with folding screens arranged around it. Susan Gibbons was standing beside it with what Danny assumed were a couple of lab technicians. She waved at them as they entered the lab.
Susan Gibbons explained the procedure to Sally and Danny and introduced the ‘technicians’. Danny was surprised, and gratified, to discover they were the head of the physics department and his deputy. The nurses transferred Sally to the stretcher attached to the scanner. After about five minutes of knob twiddling and inspection of various dials and displays, they carefully pushed the stretcher into the scanner. Danny gave Sally’s hand a reassuring squeeze. The scan itself took about twenty minutes, during which Susan Gibbons checked from time to time that Sally was comfortable.
Once the scan was completed and Sally had been extracted and placed back on the gurney by the nurses, they thanked the head and his deputy and followed the gurney back to the medical centre. Susan Gibbons said it would take a couple of hours to analyse the results. She asked if they would like to wait, but Sally, with a look to Danny and a shake of her head, made it clear that she wanted to go home. Susan Gibbons said she would call them that evening.
The same two nurses helped Sally back on a trolley and took her and Danny back to the flutter and helped Danny get her back into the aircraft. Danny looked at her, sitting beside him. She was pale, and looked frightened. She gave him a wan smile, and then closed her eyes. He called up Johnny on the radio and asked him to meet them at the airfield with his cart.
Dr Gibbons called them at about seven that evening. She used the radio, but Danny was able to get a decent signal on his phone, so he called her back. She got straight to the point.
‘I’m afraid it’s not good news. As I suspected, Sally hasn’t had a stroke. We’ve found a tumour, about the size of a walnut, which is putting pressure on her left side motor functions, which explains her symptoms. I’m very sorry . . .’ Her voice tailed off. Danny looked at Sally, questioningly. She just nodded.
‘What’s the prognosis?’ he asked.
‘It’s hard to say. The tumour has obviously grown recently. Hence the sudden onset of Sally’s symptoms. But it may have been there for a long time. It might stop growing. We can really only watch and wait.’
‘Is there anything you can do? Could you operate?’
Susan Gibbons hesitated. ‘The problem is that the tumour is in a very difficult place. An operation could just make things much worse, immediately. We don’t have the tools yet that could attack the tumour directly. I can only really offer palliative care - something for Sally’s pain and other symptoms.’
Danny looked at Sally. ‘But she doesn’t have any pain, apart from the weakness on her left side.’
‘Not now, not yet. But she may start to get severe headaches, if the tumour continues to grow. And the effect of the tumour on her motor functions may produce pain or spasms in her left side. As I say, we can only watch and wait, and maybe do another scan in a few days, or weeks.’
‘What can you give her for the pain? What side effects might there be?’
‘Opioids of some kind. And the side effects will depend on how much she needs to control the pain. Eventually of course, she may need such a high dose that she becomes unconscious. I’m sorry, I’m not being very positive’ she hesitated, then continued ‘I just don’t want to give you any false hopes.’
‘We understand, and we appreciate your honesty. Is there really no hope at all, I mean of any positive outcome?’
‘Yes, of course there is. The tumour may not grow any more, it could even shrink, or disappear altogether, although that’s very unlikely. It may grow very slowly; as I said, we just don’t know how long it has been there, it might have been there for years; we can really only watch and wait.’
‘Is there anything we can about Sally’s symptoms? Physio, exercise, diet?’
‘I think rest is probably the best therapy. Let her do as much as she’s comfortable with - short walks, swimming maybe, but in moderation. Just let me know if her symptoms change, or get more severe.’
‘Thank you doctor. We’ll let you go now, you’ve given us a lot to think about. Good night.’
‘Good night. I can only say again how sorry I am not to be able to give you better news. We’ll talk again soon.’ Susan Gibbons hung up the phone.
Danny put the phone down and got up and went over to Sally. He knelt down beside her and put his arms around her. They stayed like that for a while, saying nothing. Eventually, Sally pushed him back a little and looked into his eyes.
‘Have you still got some of Bert’s pills?’ she asked.
‘Yes, I made sure to get enough for both of us, when we left Cambridge . . . you know, just in case . . .’ he tailed off.
‘. . . of something like this happening.’ Sally finished his sentence, smiling ruefully at him. ‘Well, thank God you did. I think I would much rather take Bert’s pill, if things get bad, than those opium things she mentioned. I don’t want to end my life a drugged up zombie . . . I want to be with you, as me, for as long as we have left together, and then to be able to say a proper goodbye, to you and the children, and leave, and go to Mum and Dad and Rachel.’
Danny wondered why Susan Gibbons hadn’t mentioned the NDE pill. Perhaps, he thought, as a doctor she felt it was a last resort, that as long as there was hope, however slight, she had to try and offer a medical answer. The pill would represent a sort of defeat for her. But then she had as good as said there was no hope, and the opiates would only be being used to control or suppress any pain Sally started to feel. And maybe they would buy Sally a bit of time, if she needed it - time enough for the children to come and see her, at least, or for her to go and say goodbye to her old friends in Cambridge. At least Johnny and Rachel and Sarah were here in the village.
‘What shall we tell the children? And everyone else?’ Danny asked.
‘The truth, at least to the family. In a way I’d rather not tell anyone else, or just tell them I’ve had a mild stroke, nothing serious . . . I couldn’t stand all that sympathy, or worse, people getting embarrassed, crossing the road to avoid me . . .’
‘Need to know, sort of thing.’
‘Yes, exactly, and only as much as they need to know.’ Sally paused, looking out into the garden. ‘Could we key for a bit? It seems like it’s been a long day.’
‘That sounds like a good idea. Do you want to stay here? Or shall we go up to the quiet room?’ They kept a small room especially for keying, with a couple of chairs and floor cushions, two or three of their favourite pictures and a faded but still beautiful persian carpet. It was not a space for any kind of work. ‘Do you need a hand?’
‘I’m not a cripple yet’ Sally almost snapped, but then smiled. ‘Sorry Danny, no, thanks, I’m fine.’ She got to her feet and led the way up the stairs to the quiet room.
Sally sat in an old wooden carver. Danny sat on the floor, a small cushion at his back, leaning against the wall, facing the window and the garden. He picked up a battered copy of the The Ten Ox Herding Pictures and read the commentary on the final picture, called Returning to the Market. Sally sounded the little bronze bowl they used as a gong, to start the session.
After forty minutes or so, Sally sounded the gong again. Danny opened his eyes and looked up at her. She smiled down at him. The fading evening light shone softly into the room. Danny felt his eyes watering, and blinked away a tear.
‘Hungry?’ he asked.
‘No’ Sally replied softly ‘let’s just go to bed.’ She stood up, and reached down to help him to his feet. He followed her out onto the landing and into their bedroom. They embraced and began gently to undress each other and then climbed naked into bed.
They made long slow love and then both fell almost immediately into a deep dreamless sleep. Although they had left the curtains open, they did not wake until well after sunrise.
Danny went downstairs to make them a pot of tea. As they sat together side by side in bed, Sally reached out and took his hand.
‘Are you OK? Did you sleep well?’
‘Yes, better than for a while.’ She looked at him. ‘I just feel settled, that somehow I know what is happening, that it will be alright. No fear. Just sad that I will be leaving you, and the children.’ She looked him directly in the eyes. ‘It might be very quick love, we may not have much time . . . are you ready for that?’
Danny held her gaze. ‘No, not at all.’ This was not in the plan. ‘And you don’t know, you can’t be sure, we might have years left . . .’ he said softly.
‘We might, but I feel . . . well I might be wrong, but last night when we were keying, it’s hard to describe, you know, that still small voice, the bit I hear sometimes when I’m very still . . . it just seemed to be saying, it’s going to be alright, but it’s going to be soon . . .’
Danny reached over to her, and pulled her to him, resting his head on her shoulder, his arms around her. They held each other. Danny began to weep, quietly at first, and then it was as if a storm surge of grief overwhelmed him, a dam breaking, and he wept, howled uncontrollably, great heaving sobs, snot streaming from his nose. He felt as if he was that small boy again, who had lost his mother, and the wall, behind which he had hidden his unquenchable grief and loneliness for so long, had simply collapsed. Sally held him tighter, made soothing murmurs, softly stroking the back of his head.
After a while, there came a kind of catharsis, a sense of release, of letting go. The wave, having crashed on the beach, retreated with a sigh, leaving the sand wet and shining, clean and smooth.
‘I’m so sorry, Sal, that’s not fair of me, I don’t know where that came from . . . I just don’t want to lose you, I don’t think I can go on without you here . . .’
‘Yes you can’ she murmured. ‘You will. The children will need you, and it will only be for a little time . . . and I do understand, I’ve always been frightened that you might go before me, and how I would cope . . . I’ve got the easy part, time enough to say goodbye, and then it’s over. I don’t have to carry on alone.’
‘I’d like us to go together . . . maybe I could take the pill with you.’
‘You could, if that’s what you really want . . . but, do you remember how it was when mum took the pill, how she came back, and said that she was fine, that she could carry on, now she knew that Geoff was there waiting for her . . . maybe it will be like that for you . . . I think that whatever that place is that the pill takes us to, we simply cannot make the wrong choice when we are there.’
‘So what do you think it is, this experience the pill gives us?’
‘I really don’t know, I suppose I never really thought about it, I just accepted it for what mum said about it . . . a glimpse of heaven, I suppose. What do you think it is?’
‘Well, I don’t know either. I think I had an experience of it when I was shot at Stowmarket and you thought I was dead. I remember reading early accounts and explanations of it by neurologists and psychologists, that it was just a side effect of the brain shutting down, of oxygen starvation, and I think there’s some truth in that, but that’s just a flat, external, objective account of the physical trigger or process. It doesn’t explain why people give such rich, positive accounts of their experience, or the effect it has on them when they recover, how it changes their whole attitude to life. I don’t think the details people give are all that significant. You know, about seeing their dead loved ones. I think that’s maybe our automatic response to any feeling, to explain it, to fit it into our personal history. Because we feel this tremendously powerful, positive thing, we automatically articulate that feeling in terms of being reunited with those we have loved and lost, of coming home, of being completely accepted, understood, forgiven. I think keying changes that to some extent, because keying helps us simply to be aware of feelings as they are, without paying attention to our inner narrative, the constant search for explanations, or images. I think it’s an experience of pure consciousness, and we only add all the detail when we come back from it, because we have no other way of describing that experience. The pill stimulates, or provokes that access to pure consciousness in the same way as the collapse in brain function does - all the detail of our selves, our memories, our thoughts, even the deep reptilian parts of the brain, are stripped away, and all that is left is this pure light, pure love, a feeling of absolute truth and unity, no duality, no subject or object, just pure awareness. What the pill or near death experience does is place us absolutely at the edge of our contingent selves, and gives us the choice, either to step into the light and leave our individual self behind, or to come back to the world.’
‘So no afterlife, no little me carrying on in heaven then? And what about reincarnation? Lots of the ancient mystics and teachers seemed to believe in that.’
‘Yes, but they also said the self is an illusion, that it doesn’t really exist. So what is there to experience an afterlife with, or what is there to return as something else. I think that what they were really trying to teach was the circularity of it all. That nothing is created or destroyed, that we all return to the source, and that the source gives rise to everything, sustains everything, is everything, and the negation of everything, too. And also, that it’s fair, balanced, essentially right, which is what the doctrine of karma is about - everything and nothing is equally significant.’
‘So do we get rewarded or punished, for the good or bad that we do?’
‘If the self is an illusion, then so is the concept of reward or punishment. But the point of karma is that everything has consequences, that bad actions cause suffering, and that good ones reduce it, and the whole cosmos suffers or experiences happiness, as a result. The point that people like the Buddha and Jesus were making was that it’s possible to escape from this endless succession of consequences, or at least, while we live, to step outside it, to see it for what it is, the play of the cosmos with itself, that it’s not just all about me, my pain, my joy, my satisfaction or dissatisfaction.’
‘Well, I think I prefer my way of thinking about it’ Sally said, defiantly. ‘I want to see Mum and Dad again, and Rachel. And be with you again, when you join us. I don’t really fancy a lot of white light and blissful unity consciousness - that sounds about as much fun as a bunch of angels hanging about playing harps.’
‘Fair enough. I honestly don’t think it makes any difference how we think about it, it’s all the same thing, whatever I say it is or you experience it as. We’re all in this together and we’re not going anywhere else. We all feel the same thing, however we describe it or try and rationalise it. And that’s really all I’m doing - just trying to get my head round it, which really is impossible. That would be like trying to swallow the Milky Way, or the whole bloody cosmos. So your version is just as likely to be true, just as true as anything I might dream up.’
‘Good, I’m glad we’ve cleared that up.’ Sally started laughing, and Danny joined in.
Danny finished his tea and got out of bed, and started getting dressed.
‘Would you like some breakfast?’
‘Yes please. I suddenly feel really hungry. Can we have a full English?’
‘Sure. Twenty minutes? Is that OK?’
‘Lovely’ Sally murmured, sipping the remains of her tea. ‘I’ll be down in a bit.’
‘Will you be OK? Do you need a hand getting dressed?’
‘No, thanks, I’m sure I’ll be able to manage. Better get used to it, it’s silly to give up trying to do things for myself just because Dr Gibbon’s told me I have a walnut in my head.’
‘I’ll give you a shout when it’s ready’ Danny said over his shoulder as he left the room and walked down to the kitchen.
Sally made short work of her breakfast. Danny was impressed, and pleased. Whatever else was the matter, there was nothing wrong with her appetite. She sipped her coffee, holding her mug with both hands. ‘We should make a plan’ she said, looking at Danny over the rim of her mug.
‘Tell Rachel, and Tom and Johnny, first off, don’t you think? And Joe and Daisy. What shall we do about them? Shall we fly up to Cambridge?’
‘I think so’ said Sally. ‘Then I can tell a few of my close friends up there in person, those I want to know, anyway.’
‘When do you want to go?’
‘As soon as we’ve told Tom and Rachel, and Johnny. Tomorrow? The day after?’
‘OK, that sounds good. I’ll call them up and make sure they’re around and know we’re coming. Do you want to say anything beforehand to them? Y’know, give them a bit of warning?’
‘I’m not sure. I don’t think so. If we don’t tell them everything, they’ll only worry, and if we do, what’s the point of flogging all the way up there. They might as well just come down and see us.’
‘Maybe that’s a better plan?’
‘Let’s talk to Rachel and Tom, and see what they think. I’d still like to go to Cambridge at some point and say a proper goodbye to my friends. Have a sort of leaving do.’
‘What, with presents and speeches and stuff?’
‘Don’t be silly, I’m not having a funeral before I’m gone or anything. You can organise something if you want to. I just want to say goodbye to a few people. And maybe do some shopping . . .’
‘What for, for god’s sake? You can’t take it with you!’
‘I’m joking you idiot, when did I last tell you I wanted to go shopping? I hate fucking shopping.’ Sally was laughing, almost crying. And it was true, and one of the things Danny loved about her - she’d never been bothered about clothes, or fussing about things for the house. She always looked lovely, and she had always made the house look nice, but it just seemed to happen somehow, without fuss or expense. She could throw on the most ordinary looking clothes and look fantastic. And Danny knew it wasn’t just him that thought that; more than once he’d noticed men almost drooling over her but somehow it had never upset him. Just made him more grateful that she had chosen him, and not them.
Later that morning Sally went over to Rachel’s house. She walked slowly up the flagged path to the front door. Rachel had planted dense beds of marigold and calendula to border the path. Beyond that rows of peas, french and runner beans, broad beans and spinach on one side, and on the other rows of potatoes and onions. The door stood open.
‘Hello, anyone home’ she cried out, standing at the threshold. And then suddenly felt guilty, little Sarah might be having her morning nap. She heard a faint cry from the back of the house.
‘Hi mum, I’m out the back - come on through.’ Rachel called from the back garden. Sally walked down the central corridor that divided the front of the house and led into the kitchen. The back door onto the garden was open, and she could see Rachel kneeling by a freshly prepared bed planting out seedlings.
‘What are they?’ Sally asked, pointing at Rachel’s box of seedlings.
‘Purple sprouting broccoli, mum’ Rachel replied looking up at Sally ‘I’m surprised you don’t recognise them, you grew them every year in Elms House.’
Sally bent down, squinting at the little plants. ‘So they are. I should plant some myself, if I have time . . . will you have any seedlings to spare, d’you think?’
‘I should think so, I always start masses more than I’ll ever be able to use.’ Rachel turned back to plant out the remaining seedlings in her tray.
‘Would you like a drink?’ Rachel asked when she’d emptied the box.
‘Please’ said Sally. ‘Can you spare me a minute? There’s something I want to talk about.’
‘Course, mum. Let me get us something to drink and we can sit in the bower over there’ she pointed to a bench in deep shade under a canopy of willow that had been thatched together to make a green cave at the end of the garden. ‘Apple and blackcurrant alright for you?’
‘Lovely’ said Sally as she started to walk down the garden path to the bench.
In a minute Rachel returned with glasses and a jug of cloudy liquid on a tray. She put it down on the grass in front of the bench and poured out two glasses of juice, handing one to Sally as she sat down beside her on the bench.
‘Where’s Sarah?’ Sally asked.
‘Oh, Tom’s taken her into the engineering works with him, they’ve got a really nice creche there, so she’s quite happy to stay with him all day. It’s just to give me a break really, and a chance to get on with all this’. Rachel waved a hand around the garden. ‘I’m not really doing very well’ she said with a smile ‘it’s just so nice to have some time on my own, so I’m being a bit idle.’ She looked at Sally. ‘So what was it you wanted to talk about?’
‘Ermm . . .’ Sally hesitated, unsure how to start. ‘You know how I wasn’t very well at the party the other night?’ Rachel nodded. ‘Well, I thought I’d just had too much of Sam’s gin . . .’
‘I think we all had too much of Sam’s gin, and quite a bit else besides’ Rachel laughed.
‘. . . well maybe I did, but it turns out that wasn’t all that I had’ Sally continued.
‘What d’you mean mum? Is something wrong? Is it serious?’ Rachel’s voice was filled with concern.
‘I’m afraid it is. Dad took me into the University. We saw a very nice doctor, Susan Gibbons, and she gave me a scan . . .’
‘I know Susan, she’s very good’ Rachel interrupted. ‘Sorry, do go on.’
Sally looked directly into Rachel’s eyes, and reached out to hold her hands in hers. She keyed briefly, trying to calm herself, to put herself in a good place from which to tell her daughter her world was turning upside down.
‘I have a tumour in my brain’, she gripped Rachel’s hands more fiercely, ‘Dr Gibbons says it’s about the size of a walnut, and it’s getting bigger . . .’ Sally couldn’t help herself, she started to sob, her shoulders heaving. Rachel dropped her hands and reached up to hold her mother around the shoulders and pull her to her, holding her tight, all the while rocking and softly moaning.
‘Oh mum, oh mum . . .’ she kept repeating, while Sally continued to sob.
Eventually Sally stopped weeping. ‘I’m sorry, darling, I wanted to be grown up and strong when I told you, I thought I’d be alright after talking to Dad this morning . . .’
‘Don’t be silly Mum’ Rachel put her hand up to Sally’s face, wet with tears, wiping the tears from her own face with her other hand. ‘Tell me all about it. Do you want to go inside?’
‘No, thanks darling, it’s lovely out here.’ Sally told Rachel about the diagnosis and the prognosis, how they really didn’t know how much time she might have left, and what she and Danny had planned that morning.
‘Dad said he’d try and get hold of Daisy or Joe this morning, and see if they can come down to see us soon.’
‘Is he going to tell them? About the tumour?’
‘I don’t think he wants to, really; he said he’d play it by ear. Slightly depends who he manages to get hold of. You know what Joe’s like, he won’t ask, or even wonder, he’ll either say he can come, or he can’t. I think Daisy will probably realise something’s up. We’ll just have to see . . .’
‘Where’s Dad? Is he at home?’
‘Yes, I think so. Why?’
‘I’d like to go over and see him, give him a hug. He must be in bits about all this’
‘Go on then’ Sally smiled at her ‘he’d like that, I’m sure. I’ll just sit here, if you don’t mind.’
Rachel leant forward and kissed Sally on her wet cheek, and squeezed her shoulder. ‘I won’t be long, come over if you’re feeling lonely, perhaps we can have lunch together, the three of us.’
‘That’d be nice. Go on now, I’ll be fine, go and see Dad’. Sally reached up and patted Rachel on the arm as she stood to walk back to the house.
Sally stayed, sitting in the bower, keying for an hour or so. Then she sighed, took a deep breath, and stood up, squaring her shoulders. She walked around Sally’s house, through the large vegetable plot on the west side and back over the road to her home. Danny and Sally were sitting at the kitchen table, talking quietly. They both looked up as she walked in, and smiled at her.
‘I’ve spoken to Daisy’ Danny said. ‘I told her everything, I think she knew something was up the moment she picked up the phone. She’s going to tell Joe and they’ll come down as soon as they can.’
‘Oh thank you Dan, that’s such a relief. I didn’t know how I was going to tell her on the phone.’ Sally continued ‘When does she think they’ll be able to come?’
‘In the next day or two. I offered to come up and fly them down, but she said Joe had a friend who could bring them down. And I thought we could fly them back, so you can see your friends in Cambridge, if you’d like.’
For a moment, Sally panicked. It seemed too fast, too quick, but then she thought, how long do I have really, and what else is there I have to do. She thought too that from now on, life was going to be terribly simple - there was really only one thing to think about, to do, and that she might as well start ticking the boxes of her to do list while she still could. There were not that many friends in Cambridge that she really wanted to see, and if she missed one or two, they could always come down and see her.
‘Would you like something to eat?’ Rachel asked.
‘Yes, please, that would be lovely. We’ve got bread and cheese and plenty of picky things, and I think there’s some wine in the fridge. D’you mind, I’m just going to have a shower, I won’t be long.’
‘That’s fine love’ said Danny ‘we’ll get lunch ready while you’re having a shower.’
Sally left them to it, and walked carefully upstairs to the bedroom. She could feel her left leg dragging as she climbed the stairs, and made a mental note to keep track of the deterioration in her movements; it might be important, to tell Sue Gibbons, and give her some idea how quickly things were moving, how long she had left before she had to make a decision.
When she came back downstairs, Danny and Rachel had laid the kitchen table for lunch, with bread and cheeses and pickles and some cold meat and lettuce from the garden.
‘Daisy rang back’ Danny said. ‘She’s got hold of Joe, they’re coming down tomorrow, first thing. They should be here by lunchtime.’
‘Oh, that is good news’ Sally said with relief. ‘What did she tell Joe?’
‘Everything, or as much as she knows anyway.’
‘How did he take it?’
‘Well, naturally he was very shocked, but Daisy says he seemed OK.’ Joe was hard to read sometimes. As the baby of the family he’d always been happy go lucky, a live for today person, and never seemed to get very deeply upset about anything. He shrugged off breakups with girl friends, or losing something precious to him, with a detachment, almost indifference, Sally had always both admired and envied. But then she remembered how devastated he had been when Frank was killed, had hardly spoken for weeks, months, afterwards. And then one day, it was as if the clouds had cleared away, and he was once again the happy, slightly absent minded, carefree little boy he had always been before. Although she had to laugh at herself, he wasn’t a little boy anymore, he was nearly twenty five now.