Authors: Jane Marciano
I could feel her eyes on me suddenly, so I picked up the sandwich again and struggled to finish it.
“Bailey.”
I dabbed at my lips with the napkin, and said apologetically, “Sorry, Gwen. It’s delicious, and no disrespect to your chef but I seem to have lost my appetite.”
“Bailey, listen. I need to tell you something.”
I looked at her. “Okay.”
She sat up straighter, and put her empty cup back on the tray. Then it seemed to me as if her spine stiffened. I felt my mouth go dry and wished I hadn’t gulped down my tea so quickly.
“I’m really sorry to have to tell you this, but Colin’s got cancer.”
I jerked back in the chair. My empty cup dropped out of my hand and clattered to the floor. Fortunately it didn’t break, but rolled under the desk. I was hardly aware of it. All I could see was her solemn face, and her lips forming the frightful words, which seemed to ring in my ears.
“No! What?” Disbelief made my voice harsh and raw. It rasped in my throat.
She only looked at me sympathetically. She knew she didn’t have to repeat anything.
I stood up. Paced around the office. “I don’t believe it!”
“I’m sorry, Bailey. I know this has come as a shock. There’s no way to prepare someone for something like this really.”
My hands clenched. “How long have you
known?”
“A while. Not too long. A matter of weeks. Tests only confirmed what we originally suspected.”
Anguish made me lash out in a temper. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I demanded.
“It’s not the sort of thing he wanted people to know about.”
I spun on my heel and faced her. “People! I’m not just people, Gwen! I’m his daughter. Sometimes I think you seem to forget that!”
She didn’t say anything, and I glared at her.
“What’s with you guys? Okay, so my father and I are estranged, and that’s through no fault of my own. But you’ve known about this for ages. Didn’t it occur to you to share it with the rest of his family? No, obviously not, because you decided to keep this bit of information to yourself. Why? Did you want to deliberately hurt me more than I’ve been hurt already? What sort of a person are you anyway? What sort of a wife, what sort of a mother?”
I could hear the shrillness of my voice echoing and bouncing off the office walls, but instead of growing annoyed, as I thought she might, Gwen simply stretched out an arm, and briefly brushed her hand against my cheek.
“Bailey, hush.”
There was such sorrow in her expression, such great tenderness, that immediately I felt ashamed of my outburst. My head bowed. I heard myself whisper, “I’m sorry.”
She hesitated, and then added softly, “He can’t be operated on. There is no known treatment. It’s terminal. He’s dying.”
“No. Oh God. No.” I stopped, and put my head in my hands, too bewildered by this devastating turn of events to even try to talk coherently. Then I took a deep breath.
“Where?”
I guess I must have looked completely distressed because now she reached for my hands. I let her hold onto them and bring me closer. To be honest, I was grateful for the comfort.
“Pancreas.”
My heart plummeted. Pancreatic cancer. Fatal.
I remembered a friend of my mother’s. A young woman. Remembered the stilted and whispered conversations amongst the adults when they thought I wasn’t listening. How it wasn’t localised, that the doctors couldn’t do anything for the poor woman. They spoke about tumours metastasizing. Attaching to the lymph nodes, liver and lungs…attacking the brain.
“How long,” I whispered.
“Maybe four or five months. Six at the most. Difficult to be exact. Everyone is different.”
I swallowed. “He knows?” I found it difficult to shape the words. I still couldn’t take it in.
“He knows he’s sick, he knows it’s cancer. But he doesn’t know that I or anyone else knows that he doesn’t have long to live.” Gwen suddenly grabbed my shoulders, and her eyes widened as they bore into mine.
“And that’s how it’s got to stay, Bailey,” she said. “Right up to the very last minute, if necessary. Do you understand? I don’t want him worrying about us fearing for his life.”
I lifted my head. “I don’t think I want to be part of this macabre game of deceit.”
“We are doing all we can to keep up his spirits. Life goes on. So we pretend all is hunky dory as usual, and tomorrow evening we’re having a little gathering. Just a small party.”
I stared at her.
She dropped her hands from their grip on my shoulders and her gaze was impassive. “Drinks on the terrace after dinner, say around 9.00,” she said, as cool as ice. “Just family plus a few close and invited friends. You’re invited, too, of course. We’ll be celebrating life and the future and all it has to offer. We’re not going to grieve. I’ve already buried one husband. He was killed while out riding. I had no time to plan anything back then, I wasn’t in control of events. All I had was this place, which I inherited, and two small children to worry about and look after. This time, unfortunate as it is, it’s going to be different. This time, come what may, things are going to be done my way, and my husband, to whom I’ve been married for over twenty years, is going to enjoy whatever time he has left with the family he acquired when he married me. A family he loves and cherishes as if they were his own.”
I couldn’t help thinking that if chance and circumstance hadn’t intervened and brought me to the island, then I would still have been unaware of the situation, for I was in no doubt that Gwen wouldn’t have contacted me to let me know the grim news about my dad.
So although I understood her in a way, and knew that she must’ve been simply respecting her husband’s wishes, it still grated on me that if fate hadn’t played its part, I would never have known a thing – maybe not even until he was dead and interred in the earth.
I said, “I want to see him.”
She closed the lid of the laptop and slid back her chair. “Naturally. All in good time.”
I asked curiously, “Was this the issue you were talking about?”
She stood up and said, “No. That’s something else entirely.”
“Not sure I like the sound of that.”
She shrugged, and I cocked my head to one side and gazed up at my stepmother. I couldn’t imagine what it was he wanted to talk to me about. After all, had it been really serious, surely he’d have sent for me long ago.
“Look, as my father’s sick, can’t
you
talk to me instead? Save him the trouble?”
But she only shook her head emphatically.
“No. I can’t. I won’t. Sorry, but it’s not my place to discuss it further. Colin has to, needs to, talk to you himself.” She seemed to go a little pink around the gills. “You’ll understand more when the time comes.”
I could feel my lips tightening. I really wasn’t good with always being side-lined.
“Ok. Fine with me,” I said curtly. “Let the talking commence. What room’s he in?”
“No, that’s impossible. You can’t see him now. It’s much too late. He’ll be sleeping.”
“Despite knowing I was coming here?”
She gave me a long look, and I realised she felt pity for me.
“Bailey, dear, do you really think he would change the habits of a lifetime?”
When I didn’t answer, her face relaxed as little, as if she knew I had no comeback to that particular barb.
She said, “Look, he’s been taking medication to help him sleep amongst all the other potions and tablets he has to take. He doesn’t sleep well. He needs his rest.”
I said, “So when’s a good time to speak to him?”
She said, “He’s got an appointment in the morning. And no, he won’t wish to cancel that, as it’s with his consultant. Megan’s going with him.”
“I could go instead.”
“No. He’s used to Meg nursing him. And I’m afraid your being there might only upset him.”
I could feel my jaw clenching again, but I didn’t speak. What was there to say?
“Then we have some business in town together with our solicitors which, again, can’t be changed around just to suit you, I’m afraid.” Her lips pursed. “In fact, you may not be able to see him until much later on in the day. Possibly not even until the evening. Maybe at dinner, or just before or after the party, if he’s not too tired. Up to him, of course.”
I could feel my resolve hardening. I said, “If he tires so easily, I think maybe the best time to meet up would be early morning before he leaves for his medical appointment.”
She inclined her head, almost as if humouring me. “We’ll see.”
“I’ve every right to see him, Gwen,” I insisted. “He’s my dad.”
“I’m not keeping him from you, Bailey. The choice was always his.”
Again, I fell silent.
She said, trying to be kind, “I’ll make sure Megan passes on your message.”
I had to be content with that. A thought occurred to me then.
I said, “Shouldn’t I tell Jonti?”
Gwen picked up the tray. “I believe Max may already have spoken to him.”
“Oh?” I feigned indifference, but inside I was smarting anew at this fresh betrayal.
She sighed. “Don’t be offended, Bailey. They always kept in touch. Even as teenagers, after that first meeting. They were of an age, and maybe they felt they shared much in common.”
I stared at the floor. “Jonti never said.”
“Perhaps because he’s always been so overly protective of you, Bailey. I guess he decided not to say anything if he thought it might upset you.”
Mentally I shook myself, and said, “Well, it doesn’t matter now. None of that matters. What matters is that I’m here for my father whether he likes it or not. It’s right and proper that I
should
be here.” I thought for a moment. “Jonti, too,” I added. “We’re his kin, his children. And even if we don’t see much of our dad, we still love him, and both of us should be with him, right to the very end if necessary.”
Gwen was silent for a moment.
Then she said as she walked out the door, “Well, all that remains to be seen.”
Chapter 11
Anne at the reception desk gave me the key to my room and bade me a sweet goodnight. It crossed my mind I should request a wake-up call, then I decided against it since I’d already asked Gwen to ask Megan to ring me before my father left the hotel for his appointment.
I saw Anne stifle a yawn, and then blush guiltily when she saw I’d seen. I gave her a reassuring smile. I didn’t blame her for being whacked, it was gone midnight, and I wondered what time she finished for the night, and whether she actually stayed in the hotel or lived elsewhere. Presumably elsewhere, somewhere close very likely. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of hotel staff actually living at their place of employment. Too costly all round, but I guessed Max stayed there, after all, it was the family home as well as being the family business, and he was management.
Although I half expected an ambush from him, there was no sign of Max as I took the lift to the fourth floor and found my room, but when I opened the door and flicked on the light I saw a note he’d left for me propped up on the pillow, saying he was looking forward to seeing me again the next day, and reminding me to meet him for breakfast. He’d even left a little flower beside the note, which I thought was sort of sweet. I popped it into some water in the glass I found in the bathroom and placed it on my bedside table. My luggage was waiting for me at the foot of the large and wooden double bed, but I was too drained by all the day’s events to even consider unpacking just then. I just pulled out my nightie and toothbrush from one of the cases and hunted around for my shower bag.
Then I took stock of my surroundings. The loo and bathroom was pretty basic and standard, but thankfully clean. The room itself was again spotlessly clean and I suppose adequate in size, but somehow it felt small, stuffy and overcrowded, as if someone somewhere back in time had decided to convert one floor into two. I was disappointed that there were no facilities to make tea or coffee, and there was no air conditioning unit that I could see, but there was a radio and a portable TV sitting on a very grand looking desk facing the bed, though I wasn’t in any mood to watch late night TV. A couple of sea
scape prints hung on the walls and brought a touch of vivid colour and life to the room. I guessed they featured part of the 45 mile coastal region surrounding Jersey. Generally the furnishings, though probably once very plush, now looked faded, and in my opinion the whole place looked to be in need of a complete overhaul. My mother would have called the decor shabby genteel. Overall, there was an old fashioned feel to the room. Great for atmosphere if you wanted to sit and write a Victorian novel on a Remington if one was available, but maybe not so good for business where hoteliers competed to be the most modern and luxurious.
I took off my leather jacket and kicked off my shoes, and my toes sank into thick pile carpet.
Dropping my shoulder bag onto a small armchair at the side of the bed, I stared at the thick velvet drapes that stretched solidly and to my mind unreasonably across the length of the far wall. Reason told me that unless some idiot had deliberately bricked them in in order to turn this room into some sort of prison or fortress, there had to be windows hiding behind them. It wasn’t an easy task, reaching the outside world. Firstly I had to fight with some dusty drapes to secure them back, and then I had to drag aside a solidly built wooden table and matching chair that had been placed in front of the drapes to reveal a set of double French doors that lead out onto a small balcony.
I turned the key and unbolted the doors, but for ages they remained stubbornly closed, refusing to yield to any pressure exerted on the damn things, but eventually I managed to fling them aside, and I stepped over a high ledge and out onto a small balcony.
Finally the night air kissed my heated flesh, and a light breeze ran cool fingers through my hair while the moisture evaporated on my skin.
It was a glorious sensation, standing there overlooking the Atlantic, so high up, so alone, with warm yellow light streaking out behind me and losing its way in the luxurious darkness beyond before fading to nothing.
Although I didn’t like heights, I felt safe up there, so I risked leaning forward over the balustrade and staring down. All that was between me and death was a simple handrail and some iron latticework that made up the grille. I knew if I leaned over too far, there was nothing to stop me from plummeting head first onto rocks far below. I wouldn’t have even got wet as it was low water and the tide was out.
Beyond the Atlantic was France. I felt much like an eagle must feel as it soars high above the earth, the only difference being that I was standing motionless upon a thick slab of concrete, iron and wire, which was all that there was between me and the ground, and it was only the sea in the distance that roiled and undulated in the moonlight like some savage mythical beast.
Gripping the cold handrail in both hands, with my feet wide apart, a stance which I reckoned would help me from toppling over if perchance I suddenly fainted, unlikely though that was, I admit, I breathed in the salty air and stared to the horizon where sea and sky merged. In the vast night sky all around me the stars glittered with watchful, ferocious eyes.
I shivered in the chilly air, and felt a cold tingle slide down my spine. Although I wasn’t particularly fanciful and didn’t really believe in the supernatural, I had a sudden sense of foreboding, as if something menacing was awaiting me.
So, quickly, stepping backwards I closed the windows and started getting ready for bed. I took a quick shower, brushed my teeth, peed one more time, then I was ready.
I’d left the curtains open since for, unlike urban living where streetlights shone all night long like illuminations at Blackpool, lighting up pretty much every room in a house unless you either lived underground or had black out curtains, in this remote part of the world, the only light came direct from the heavens. And for me, like listening to the sound of rain when you’re warm indoors, I loved having the moon to look at before sleep should overtake me.
I turned on the bedside light and slipped beneath the covers before reaching for my kindle. I wasn’t a great sleeper, not since I’d been a child and my father had left home, not even when I’d had Freddie in bed beside me had I slept terribly well. Back home in the metropolis, reading at bedtime had usually helped. Now the simple task of switching on my kindle reminded me that I’d forgotten to turn my mobile phone back on again after the plane had landed.
So I powered up and saw I had two text messages, two missed calls, and a voice mail awaiting my attention.
Snuggling against two incredibly soft pillows, the first text message I read was from Jonti. It said:
Hi, Sis. Hope you’ve arrived safely but if you’re reading this, then you have. But just text back to say all’s well and I’ll stop worrying. OK? Wish you could’ve told me your plans rather than just leaving a note for me to find, but guess you’re a big girl now and you know what you’re doing. Haha. Seek and ye shall find, as the Good Book says. Anyway, enjoy Jersey, and hope the weather’s good enough not to have to wear one. Trust the prospects there are favourable, but I heard on the grapevine Dad wasn’t doing so well. Guess you’ll find out for yourself in due course. Love as always from, your favourite brother, Jonti x
I texted back immediately asking him to keep in touch and let me know as soon as Miranda went into labour. I didn’t mention anything else: there seemed no point since he already knew. The second text I read was from Miranda, my sister in law.
Dear Bailey, this is just to let you know that the sale of our flat is going ahead, and so is the purchase of the new house. Isn’t that double fab news??? Its gr8 you’ve decided to move to Jersey. We’ll all miss you but sure you’ll be terribly happy there as understand it’s by a beach. Mother Lara sends her love, and says she hopes you won’t ignore her calls or texts from now on. Kisses from Miranda. P.S. Someone rang from your HR dept, but no probs, as I confirmed your whereabouts and told them to send on your P.45 c/o Hotel Pegasus.
I made a face as I read that last part. I’d only just resigned, but they certainly weren’t hanging about before getting the paperwork underway, that was obvious. Ah well, that’s bureaucracy in banking for you. I moved onto the two missed calls, which were both from Ari Ferrari. The voice mail message was from him, too. I felt a little glow of happiness at the idea that he hadn’t wasted any time at all before getting in touch. I pressed the playback button and settled myself deeper under the meringue-like bed cover to listen to his deep voice:
“Hi Bailey, Ari Ferrari here. Just to say thanks for the coffee, and only sorry we couldn’t have had more time together for a second cup, or even a third. Another time perhaps. Give me a call back sometime if you fancy a chat. Meanwhile, take care of yourself. Bye.”
I played the message through twice more. It eased the loneliness a little. And if truth be told I liked listening to his voice.
Glancing at my watch, I realised it was much too late to call Ari back now, and that actually I was tired enough without any need to read to send me off to sleep.
So I placed the kindle back on the bedside table and switched off the light. Just as I was getting comfortable, my phone pinged and vibrated, alerting me to the fact I had a text message. I groaned, well aware of the fact that I was one of those sad people who are unable to ignore their phone, whatever time it is, so I groped for the light and looked to see who was sending me a message at this time of night.
A message from Freddie Gillette awaited me in my inbox.
Bailey. Sorry about what happened. Forgive me and let me try to make it up to you, as I hope we can be friends. I’d like to take you out to dinner. 7 pm okay? Let me know if you’re still at your brother’s flat. I’ve still got the number and address. Or I can pick you up elsewhere if you’ve moved on. Please let me know. Reply soonest. Love, Freddie x.
I stared at the message. He must have been really upset to have sent me such a message, as it was so unlike him.
But I guess even the worst of us can become better people.
So I hit ‘reply’, and typed on the keyboard:
Got your message, F. Strange that you’ve texted instead of calling - thought you hated texting, but appreciate that you were thinking enough about me to apologise, even though it’s tomorrow already! Going to have to take a rain check on the dinner date as not even in the same country as you! Gone to stay with family in Jersey. Call me if you want to, when you can. B x
I was literally drooping with tiredness, because I didn’t want to be woken again by any further phone calls or text messages, I turned off my phone, turned onto my side, and tuned out.