In My Sister's Shoes (33 page)

‘Pah,’ muttered Dad, from behind his paper.

‘Do you have something you’d like to say, Dad?’ I inquired.

‘A programme about girls who won’t eat – I never heard such rubbish in mylife. I don’t see why you can’t stay at home with your family and get a decent job.’

‘Thanks for the support, Dad. It’s a big deal for me.’

‘Non sense. You need to settle down with a nice lad and have children. That’s what life’s about. Not filming girls being sick. I never heard the like.’

‘Gonzo wants to know if he stops eating now can he be one of the people on the show?’

‘No,’ I said.

‘I hope that wasn’t your plan B,’ said Dad, as Derek walked off in a huff.

Later that day I was in Fiona’s kitchen, helping her tidyup after the boys’ dinner. I handed her a plate to put away and she dropped it.

‘Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
fuuuuuuuuuuuck
!’ she shouted.

The twins, Teddy and I almost jumped out of our skins.

‘Jesus, are you OK?’ I asked, looking for blood on her hands.

‘No, I’m not OK. I’m not fucking OK at all,’ she sobbed, dropping to the floor as her body shook with grief.

The twins, shocked to see their mother crying so violently, began to get upset. I ushered them out and put on the TV to distract them.

Then I came back in to mysister and sat down with her on the floor among the bits of broken plate. ‘What’s up? Was it a favourite plate?’

‘I don’t care about the stupid plate!’ she cried, as Teddy licked her face. ‘I just can’t keep it in anymore. I’ve tried so hard to be calm and in control during chemo and radiation and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of being sick. I’m sick of trying to pretend everything’s OK, I’m sick of having my body ravaged by drugs and burnt by radiation. I have cancer. I’m a cancer victim. Mum was a cancer victim and she died. God didn’t give a shit about leaving her three children with no mother. He took her anyway. Why should I be any different? Why should I be luckier than Mum? Why should my boys be luckier than we were? I could die – I really could actually
die
– and not see my boys grow up. Never see them become the wonderful human beings I know they’ll be. Never see them get married and have children of their own. They’ll be the poor Kennedy twins, just like we were the poor O’Brien kids. It’s not fair, it’s not bloodyfair, and I’m furious. I’m furious with life and Fate and God and everyone. I hate having this disease inside me. I want to rip it out and smash it into little pieces. I don’t want my boys growing up without a mother. I can’t bear that.’ She covered her face with her hands.

‘Fiona, please listen to me,’ I begged. ‘What’s happened to you over the last eight months is unspeakable. You’ve been so brave and wonderful. I’m in awe of you. The way you’ve handled it is incredible. You’re always so cheerful around the boys, making sure their lives were disrupted as little as possible. You’re an amazing mother and an inspirational person. I believe, with everybone in mybody, that you’re going to be OK. You’ll be around till you’re ninety, I know it.’

‘How?’

‘Because you deserve to be.’

‘So did Mum.’

‘That was really bad luck and, besides, the treatments then were nothing like they are now. I
know
you’ll be fine, I promise.’

‘You can’t promise that, Kate,’ she said sadly, patting Teddy as he nuzzled into her.

‘Yes, I can,’ I insisted.

‘No, you can’t. No one deserves to die of this horrible disease. Some get lucky and most don’t. It’s a lottery. There are no guarantees. The thing that really scares me is that, if I die soon, the boys won’t remember me. They won’t have a clue what sort of person I was or how much I loved them.’

‘Of course they’ll remember you,’ I said.

‘Does Derek remember Mum?’

‘I’m sure he does.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yes.’

‘You don’t really, Kate, you’ve told me so before. You said that the worst part of Mum dying young is that you don’t remember what she was like.’

Typical! Me and my big mouth, and Fiona with her elephant memory. She was right, though. I didn’t really remember Mum. I was eight when she died, and although I have some memories of her, they’re blurred and I don’t know if they’re real memories or if I think I remember things because I’ve heard Dad tell the stories. It was awful to lose my mother so young: I had felt a gaping hole in my life for as long as I could remember. I would have given anything for one conversation with her, one hug, one kiss.

I looked at my poor sister and felt a pang of anguish. ‘Come on, Fiona, the statistics are really good for your recovery.’

‘Kate!’ she snapped. ‘Let me be miserable. I need to let this out. I need to feel the fear of death. I’m sick of being upbeat. I want to be allowed to wallow and rant and rage against the world. I might die and you can’t change that. Even if I do go into remission now, there’s no guarantee it won’t come back in a couple of years. It’s a life sentence.’

‘It’s so unfair,’ I said, unable to stop myself getting emotional. ‘I wish I’d got the cancer, not you. I swear I’d take your place if I could. It should have been me.’

‘Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,’ said the woman who’d just had a nervous breakdown over a broken plate – well, OK, over cancer, really, but it had started with the plate.

‘I mean it,’ I said, insulted. ‘Your kids need you, I’m not leaving anyone behind. In fact, apart from my family no one would notice.’

‘Well, instead of feeling sorry for yourself why don’t you do something about it?’ said a recovering Fiona, dishing out advice as she cleared up the plate shards.

‘Like what?’

‘Like stop messing about and give your relationship with Sam a go. You love him, it’s as plain as the nose on your face and no job should stand in your way. If I’ve learnt one thing from this stupid disease it’s to value what matters in life and that’s people, Kate, not things. No one wants “Here lies Kate O’Brien: she had a successful career” engraved on their headstone. It’s sad and soulless.’

Before I had a chance to answer, the twins came in with Mark, who had just arrived home.

‘Is everything all right?’ he asked, taking in the two blotchy red faces and the broken plate. ‘I found the twins gawping at
Baywatch
.’

‘Kate and I needed to have a heart-to-heart,’ said Fiona.

‘Are you OK?’ Mark asked his wife, putting his arm around her. ‘The boys said you were upset.’

‘Fine, thanks. I just needed to blow off steam.’

‘What happened to the plate?’

‘She threw it at me for being melodramatic,’ I said, laughing when Mark looked shocked.

‘She’s joking. I dropped it and it set me off,’ Fiona admitted. Then, as the twins appeared, she said, ‘Mummy’s better now, boys. I’m sorry if I scared you. I got a fright when I dropped the plate.’

They snuggled into her, glad to see her back to normal.

‘Did you get a fright too?’ Jack asked me.

‘No, honey. I’m sad because I’m going back to London soon and I won’t see you every day,’ I said, as Fiona tried frantically to stop me.

‘I haven’t prepared them for this,’ she hissed.

Their little heads snapped around. ‘Going back? But you live here now, with Granddad,’ said Bobby.

Damn. I’d assumed they knew it was only temporary.

‘I was staying with Granddad for a few months while Mummy was sick. But now she’s better I’m going back to London.’

‘But I don’t want you to go,’ said Bobby, and burst into tears.

‘Me neither,’ said Jack, coming over and hugging me.

‘Stay with us, Auntie Kate. Don’t go,’ said Bobby, as I struggled to control my self. I hadn’t thought they’d care. They had Fiona back now, their mum, the love of their lives.

‘But you don’t need me now. Mummy’s better.’

‘Mummy, don’t let her go back to horrible London!’ pleaded Jack.

‘I’m sorry, sweet heart, I want her to stay too, but that’s where Kate wants to go,’ she said pointedly.

‘But who’s going to watch
Shrek
with us?’ asked Bobby. Mark looked surprised:
Shrek
was not on his list of appropriate viewing.

‘Who’s going to take us to the zoo and buy us ice-cream?’ said Jack, thankfully remembering the fun part of that day rather than the splitting-his-head-open bit.

‘I’ll be back all the time to see you,’ I said.

‘No, you won’t,’ said Bobby. ‘We never saw you before. I hate London.’

‘I hate London too,’ said Jack, and kicked the table.

‘Don’t leave us,’ begged Bobby.

But that was exactly what I did do: I ran out the door, tears streaming down myface.

I drove down to the seafront and parked the car. What was I doing? Why was I running back to London when everyone I loved was here? Was my career that important? Could I make it work in Dublin with no job? What if Fiona got a bad result? Would I come back? Was I mad to give up Sam, the only man I’d ever loved? Could it work out?

I rested my aching head on the steering-wheel. I felt completely drained. The last eight months had been an emotional rollercoaster. What was I going to do?

My phone rang, and suddenly everything seemed clearer.

39

In honour of Derek’s twenty-seventh birthday and as a thank-you to the family for helping out during her treatment, Fiona and Mark were having us all over for dinner. As we were getting ready to go to their house, Gonzo called in.

‘Hey, Mr O’B, just calling in to see my man Derek,’ he said, as Dad opened the door.

‘OK. Be quick about it – we’re off to dinner in Fiona’s and don’t be making any more music plans. That part of Derek’s life is over as of now.’

‘It’s a sad day for music lovers world wide to lose a poet like D-Rek.’

‘I’ve a sneaking suspicion they might get over it,’ said Dad.

‘Get over what?’ I asked, walking into the kitchen.

‘Derek getting a real job.’

‘
Maaaaaaaaaan!
’ said Gonzo. ‘You look fine.’

‘Thanks.’ I smiled.

‘Steady now, the pair of you, I don’t want any more shenanigans like there were the other night,’ said Dad, with a wink.

‘If only,’ sighed Gonzo.

‘’Sup?’ asked Derek, shuffling in.

‘Just saying to your old man that it’s a sad day for the rap industry.’

Derek shrugged. ‘At least we tried.’

‘Can’t say we didn’t follow our dream,’ agreed Gonzo.

‘Fun while it lasted,’ said the poet.

‘It’s been an honour,’ said Gonzo.

‘Couldn’t have asked for a better wing man,’ said Derek.

‘Means a lot,’ said Gonzo, thumping his heart.

‘Keep it real,’ said Derek.

‘So long, partner,’ said Gonzo, handing Derek a bag.

‘For God’s sake, he’s not going the electric chair. He’s going to work down the road – you’ll still see him every day,’ said Dad.

‘’S not the same, though,’ said Gonzo.

Derek pulled a T-shirt out of the bag and put it on. ‘Dude, I’m speechless,’ he said, as Dad and I read the words.

Across the front in red letters it said, ‘Talent will triumph. Keep the faith.’

‘There may be more than one poet after all,’ said Dad, snorting into his tea.

‘We’d better go – we don’t want to be late,’ I said, forcing back a giggle.

‘When are you off?’ asked Gonzo.

‘In a couple of days,’ I said.

‘If you ever get lonely – ’

‘I’ll know who to call.’

‘Right, that’s enough emotion for one night. Into the car with you,’ said Dad, ushering us out the door.

When we arrived the twins were in their pyjamas chasing Teddy. They weren’t their usual selves with me. They were obviously still annoyed that I was leaving them. I tried to over compensate by singing songs from
Shrek
and feeding them contraband biscuits, but they were having none of it. I was
persona non grata
.

Fiona and Mark were busy cooking, so they asked me to put the twins to bed. As I tucked them in I kissed them.

‘Yucky wet kiss,’ said Jack.

‘Here’s another one,’ I said, as he squealed and dived under the covers.

‘Night night, boys, I love you,’ I said, and sadness flooded me.

‘Why are you crying?’ Bobby asked.

‘Because I love you and I’ve loved getting to spend so much time with you. You’re very special boys.’

‘I love you too,’ said Bobby.

‘I love you more,’ said Jack.

I closed the door, dried my eyes and composed myself before heading down to dinner.

Fiona and Mark had pulled out all the stops. The table was set with their best china, and the wine glasses twinkled in the candle-lit room. When we had sat down, Mark opened a bottle of champagne and proposed a toast.

‘Fiona and I would like to thank you all for having been so supportive to us during the last year. We owe a special debt of gratitude to Kate, who gave up her job to help us with the boys. So here’s to you, Kate, and we wish you every success back in London.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, flustered by his unexpected praise. ‘And you’re welcome.’

Then Dad jumped up and said he’d like to saya few words. Derek and I groaned. Dad’s speeches went on for five or fifty minutes, depending on his mood.

‘You can stop your moaning, I’ll be brief,’ he said. ‘Tonight is a very special night for many reasons. First and foremost, it brings to an end Fiona’s long and arduous journey through her cancer treatment. Throughout the last year she has been – as always – an example to all of us. Fiona, pet, you have been a credit to me and your mother all your life. When I found out you’d got the same cancer as her I was so angry I wanted to kill someone. Life couldn’t be this unkind, I thought, and now I believe it isn’t. I know you’ll get better. The treatment and care you’ve had is in a different league to your mother’s and we got the cancer earlier this time. I lost your mother far too young. There’s no way I’m letting you go too.

‘Hindsight is a wonderful thing, and I can see now how useless I was when your mother died. I left you to cope with Kate and Derek, and it wasn’t fair. I’m sorry for that. My only excuse is that I was heart broken. Your mother was an incredible woman and I couldn’t imagine life without her. I stuck my head in the sand and it meant you had to grow up too soon. I won’t let that happen to your boys, I promise you that.’