One Day With You, page 23
Nancy had a twinkle in her eye as she winked. ‘If you pour me another wee vodka and lemonade, I’ll make sure it never reaches your ears.’
‘Thanks, you’re a saint,’ Mark quipped.
‘Saint Nancy of The Blessed Vodka,’ Val added, smudging her blue eyeliner as she wiped away tears of laughter.
‘Nearly forgot what I came in for,’ Mark said, as he handed Nancy’s handbag to her. ‘You left your bag on the hall table and it was ringing.’
Val and Nancy froze and looked at each other, both thinking at exactly the same moment that a call at this time of night was never good.
Val tried to rationalise it. ‘It might be Tress, phoning to tell us about the baby,’ she said, her desperate hope almost palpable.
Nancy dug the phone out and checked the screen.
One missed call – Noah Clark.
One new message – Noah Clark.
A few clicks and she opened the message, and then closed her eyes as she slowly turned the phone to show Val.
Max died. Please come.
The two of them put their drinks down at the same time, both immediately snapping back to completely sober.
‘Mark, son, can you stay here and look after your dad?’ Val asked.
‘Of course, Mum. You okay?’
Val’s voice was trembling. ‘Max Walker is gone and…’
For once, she couldn’t find the words, so Nancy found them for her. 'Oh, that poor lass and that wee bairn.’
Mark went straight to the practicalities. ‘What do you need me to do?’
‘Call a taxi for us, please, son. Me and Nancy just need to get to the hospital.’
32
MAX
Max Walker.
Son of Colin and Georgina Walker.
Husband to Tress. Father to Noah Max Walker.
Time of death: 11.28 p.m.
9 February 2023.
Age 35.
R.I.P.
MIDNIGHT – 8 A.M.
33
TRESS
Tress wasn’t sure how long she’d sat with him. After Max’s heart had stopped, there had been a riot of people and machines and sounds and voices, and Sally had rushed back to help her move Noah outside the door, where Tress had put her hands over her baby’s ears, protected him, unable to leave in case they somehow brought Max back to them.
They didn’t. His brain was damaged, but it was his heart that had given up first.
They’d been allowed back into the room after hope was lost, when everyone had left, except one nurse who’d tended to Max, tenderly disconnecting machines, removing tubes, before pulling the sheet up to his neck and leaving them be.
Still Tress had refused to leave, unwilling to waste a moment that she could be with him. It was only when Sally came back again a little while later and spoke in a voice that was barely above a whisper, that she finally listened.
‘Tress? I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine the pain you’re feeling, but I’d like to take you back over to the maternity ward and take care of you and the baby there.’
As if he’d heard the words, her son stirred, his beautiful face contorting into a frown that was backed up by a tiny yelp of acknowledgement, then immediately settled again and went back to sleep. Tress’s hand hadn’t left his tiny fingers since his father had passed.
Another piece of Tress’s heart chipped off.
‘Just two more minutes, please?’ Tress whispered back to Sally, who retreated silently, leaving them alone again.
It was still impossible to comprehend where she was, and how much her life had changed in one day. She was a mum now. But no longer a wife. She knew she had to say goodbye but couldn’t bear to do it. She wasn’t ready. Not now. Not tomorrow. Maybe not ever.
But even as she was thinking that, her gaze fell on her son, and she felt the shift again, the one that had been slowly changing all day. Just as she knew she had to stay calm for him when she was in labour, now she knew she had to be strong for him in his life.
If only Max had felt the same.
She dismissed that thought. No. Not yet. She could fall apart later, she could rage and she could curse him for being so stupid, but she couldn’t do it now. She had her son to take care of, so she had to let Max go.
Moving the sheet that covered her husband, she gently placed her hand on his shoulder. ‘Max Walker,’ she said softly, ‘I love you with every bit of my heart. No matter what, that will never change. I will love you and so will your son. And we’ll have the best life, because that’s what you wanted for us, and that’s what he deserves.’
Tress heard a movement behind her and turned to see Noah, his face ashen, eyes bloodshot. He came to her, knelt by her side, put his arms around her.
‘I’m sorry, Tress. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.’
Her tears merged with his as the two of them clung to each other. ‘But you were. You were here. You’ve been here all along.’
She loosened her grip, letting him move back a little, giving him space to see his friend, to say his own goodbye. For Noah, who rested his hand on Max’s, it was silent, and she understood that. They had always had that unspoken telepathy, never needed to talk everything out. This wouldn’t be any different.
They sat for a few moments until Noah was done and he exhaled, took his hand away, ended his final touch.
Even in her grief, Tress could see that he looked ten years older than he did yesterday, his sadness almost visible as it oozed from every new crease in his face.
‘When you’re ready to go, I’ll take you back over. Sally is outside too, to help us.’
Tress paused, knowing that there was something else she needed to ask him, questions to be answered before she could leave. A few more seconds would change nothing.
‘How is Anya?’
Noah shrugged sadly. ‘Lots of injuries, but they should heal. It’ll just take time, but I think she’s going to be okay.’
‘Did you speak to her?’
‘Yes.’
She had to ask him. She had to know, and she had to know here, because then she could leave it with Max and she could take her son and never have to talk about it again, never let its stain shadow his life.
‘Were they having an affair, Noah? You said no more lies,’ she added, just to remind him that she didn’t want to be protected from the truth.
His pause told her the answer before his words.
‘Yes. But not a serious one. They were ending it this morning. Calling a halt because Max wanted to spend every moment with you and your son.’
‘For how long?’
‘I don’t know. Does it matter?’
Tress shook her head. ‘No.’ To her, it didn’t matter if it was once or for a million years. It was the same thing. It was a betrayal.
‘They weren’t in love, Tress. I know that doesn’t make it any easier.’
‘I think it might make it worse.’
Noah didn’t argue. ‘I know.’
They sat in silence for a few more moments, while she worked it all through the blur of her mind. When she was ready, she spoke. Not to the man beside her, but to the one in front of her.
‘I forgive you, Max. If you can hear me, I want you to know that. I’ve always believed that my mum was up there, watching over me, taking care of me. I always thought she brought me you. I need you to know that I forgive you, so that you can watch over your boy without facing the guilt of what you’ve done. And I forgive you because if I don’t, it’ll cloud every day for the rest of my life, and he deserves so much more than that. Goodbye, my love. And thank you for our son.’
Slowly, gingerly, she stretched back and spoke to Noah.
‘Okay, I’m ready to go now. Thank you for being honest with me about their affair. But, Noah…’
He was crouched down, his eyes level with hers.
‘I’m leaving it here. I don’t ever want to talk about it again.’
‘Then we won’t.’
Noah went to the door, gestured to Sally to come back in, then gave the midwife space to take the crib out first, before coming back for Tress’s wheelchair.
At the door, Tress didn’t look back. She’d said everything she needed to say. Maybe tomorrow she would think of more, but not now. She was done. She’d read somewhere that forgiveness wasn’t something you did for other people, it was something you did for yourself to let you move on. Somehow, there was a release in that feeling. Tomorrow, or maybe next week, or perhaps next month, she would reflect and she would grieve. But she wasn’t going to do it now, because right at this moment, the only person that truly mattered was the newborn babe in the crib in front of her.
They went back down in the lift, then along the service corridor into the maternity block, then into the other lift. This time, they ascended to the fourth floor, back to the ward that she’d first been admitted to when she was Tress Walker, Max Walker’s wife, ready to have his child. Now she was a widow and a single mum.
Sally took her along to a room with only one bed in it. ‘We thought this might be better for you, Tress, but if you’d rather be among other people, I can move you back to the main ward.’
‘No, this is fine. Thank you, Sally. You’ve done so much…’
‘Not at all. I was glad I could be here for you. For you both. I’ll be back in tomorrow, so I’ll pop back and see you then.’
Tress remembered that this nurse was supposed to finish her shift hours ago, and yet she hadn’t. She’d stayed because she wanted to take care of them and the gratitude Tress felt caught in her throat as she spoke. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re so welcome.’ Sally hugged her, then cast a tender glance at the baby, before saying goodbye to Noah.
Just as she left, another nurse popped her head in the door. ‘Hello, Dr Clark. Mrs Walker.’
The name jolted her, and Tress wanted to correct her. She wasn’t Mrs Walker any more. That was yesterday. ‘Please call me Tress,’ she said, in as friendly a tone as she could manage.
‘I will,’ the nurse agreed. ‘And I’m Sita. Has the baby latched on and fed yet?’
‘Yes, earlier. He’s been sleeping ever since. Should I wake him?’
Sita popped over to the crib and smiled as she checked out her newest patient. ‘No, not at all, but when he wakes, I’ll help lift him over to you. Are you sore? Do you need pain medication?’
Tress had a jolt of realisation. This was what if felt like to be a new mum. This was normal. To this lovely nurse, she wasn’t the wife who was trying to find her husband, or the widow whose husband had just died. She was just the woman who had given birth a few hours ago. She was a new mum. That was it. That was her title. And that little bit of normality was like a tiny flower pushing through the mud of the pain that had ravaged her today. ‘No, thank you. I’m fine.’
‘And what about something to eat? Sally said you didn’t have anything in the labour suite. How about some tea and toast?’
It was the simplest thing, the very basic of care. Food. Drink. Yet to Tress it was so much more than that. It was someone else caring for her at the end of a day that had come close to breaking her. Since the baby was born, she hadn’t given a thought to her own body, to the pain, or to what it needed to get through the coming hours and days, but other people were here and they wanted to help her. Her whole life, she’d been independent, strong, capable of looking after herself, but now she was going to let other people care for her.
‘I’d appreciate that very much.’
‘No problem. I’ll be right back with them. Final question, I promise. Would you like me to help you get into bed?’
Tress glanced up at Noah, and a silent conversation passed between them.
‘Thanks, Sita, but I can do that,’ he told her, reading Tress’s mind perfectly.
When the door closed behind the nurse, Tress began to put her weight on the arms of the wheelchair, and Noah scooped his arm under hers to support her. Now she was registering twinges of pain from the birth, but nothing she couldn’t handle.
Noah pulled back the sheet, then let her shift her body on to the mattress, before covering her back up again.
‘Noah, I feel like no matter how many times I’ve said thank you to you today, it will never be enough.’
He pushed the chair out of the way. ‘No, it’ll always be too many. There’s no need, Tress. I’m just so relieved that you’re not upset with me for lying. I hope I did the right thing.’
His earnest expression told her he’d been worrying about that, and yet another piece chipped off her heart. Other than their son, this friend was the kindest gift her husband had ever given her. ‘You did the right thing, I promise. I know you did it to protect me and this little boy. I’m just so sorry, because it must have been excruciating.’
Stretching over, he checked on the baby, then sat on the pale blue chair next to her bed.
She reached for his hand. ‘Noah, I’m fine. And I mean this from a place of love and gratitude for everything you’ve done today, but you can go. Go back to Anya and take care of her. If I need anything, Sita has got my back.’
‘No, I’d rather stay h—’
Another knock at the door, then a waft of perfume and two faces full of love and concern and worry filled the doorway, both speechless for the first moment since the beginning of time.
Tress filled the silence, mustering all her strength to smile. ‘Hello, ladies. I think this little guy would like to meet his aunties.’
34
NOAH
‘You awright down there, pal?
Noah raised his head and saw a guy, maybe in his twenties, eyeing him with curiosity as he swayed in front of him. Noah got the picture straight away. Black eye, swollen shut. Dressing over a wound on his head. Shirt ripped and jeans caked in mud. When he was a junior doctor, he’d done a rotation and countless bank shifts on A&E and he knew that this was just a Thursday night evictee, probably brought in after a fight in the city centre, checked over, patched up and sent on his way. And he didn’t seem to be in the least perturbed by any of it.
‘I’m fine, mate, but cheers for asking.’
‘Aye, no bother.’ Then, obviously thinking his altruism had bought him some karmic credit, he added, ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got a fag, have ye?’
Despite the absolute clusterfuck shitshow of the day, Noah couldn’t help but give a rueful smile at the ridiculousness of the moment. ‘Don’t smoke. Those things will kill you.’
He could see that Rocky Balboa was about to get arsy, so he salvaged the situation by pulling a tenner out of the pocket of his scrubs and offering it over.
One battered man now flipped straight from arsy to elated. ‘Ya dancer. Cheers, pal. No’ a bad night’s work,’ Rocky quipped before whistling off down the road.
It didn’t escape Noah that he must appear to be such a shambles that a mangled, battered drunk had checked on him. If he were being objective, he could see there were red flags. He was sitting on the ground, leaning against the outside wall of the A&E block. Rumpled scrubs. His head on his knees. One of his shoes was off, because it had escaped him, flown off when he was kicking the shit out of the wheelie bin in the alley beside the building. He’d booted it with everything he had, roaring at some refuse injustice, time and time again until the exertion was too much, and he’d dropped to the ground, exhausted, desperate to catch his breath.
He had no idea how long he’d been there. He just knew that it wasn’t yet long enough. He needed air. Needed time to think. To process what had happened today.
Max was dead. His closest friend for a lifetime.
If someone had told him yesterday that this was coming, he’d have fallen apart, devastated, inconsolable.
If someone told him yesterday that his wife would come close to dying, he’d have stopped her driving, held her close to him, protected her with every bone in his body, taken the impact of the blow to save her.
If someone had told him yesterday that he’d discover his wife was having an affair, the knowledge of that would have slayed him. And he had no idea how he would have reacted because it was such an outlandish thought to him. Not Anya. Absolutely not Anya. And yet… yes. Anya.
The same Anya had screamed when she’d heard that her lover was dead, roared so loudly that two nurses and Dr Campbell had raced to her. They’d tried to persuade her to take a sedative, but she’d refused, almost as if she needed to inflict the pain of this on herself. Noah had held her, shushed her, let her cry until there were no more tears and she found her voice again. ‘You need to go see him. Help Tress,’ she had implored. It had taken all the magnanimity he possessed not to say that he wished she’d thought about Tress before now. But no. Still not the time for recriminations. Instead, he’d left her with Richard, and did as she asked. He’d gone to Tress and the baby and he’d stayed with them until Val and Nancy had arrived. Then he’d come outside and assaulted a wheelie bin, raging at the world.
Now, exhausted, all he could feel was… nothing. The anger that had consumed him earlier had left him and all he could see was the futility of it all. The absolute pointlessness of a life that was lost for all the wrong reasons. Of the two marriages broken in the wreckage of that car.
There was nowhere he wanted to go right now. Not home. Not back inside. He knew Tress had to have that time with Val and Nancy. She needed to detach from looking at the face of the man whose wife had slept with her husband. He wondered if she’d ever manage to look at him without feeling that pain and he wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t, or if she pulled away from him, no longer able to bear the association with the most devastating day of her life.
His family aside, had he just lost everything and everyone else that he loved?
He inhaled the cold night air into his lungs and saw that he was shivering. He hadn’t even felt it until that moment, but it forced him to stand, to make a move, to retrieve his shoe from a puddle at the side of the skip.
