The Moment She Left (37 page)

Realising stupid tears were blurring her eyes, Rowzee quickly blinked them back and said, ‘It’s not really as bad as it sounds . . .’

Pamela suddenly exploded. ‘You’ve got a tumour? In your brain? And you’re only just telling us? How long have you known?’

Since there was no point in lying, Rowzee said, ‘A few weeks.’

Pamela looked as though she’d been struck. ‘So you’ve been to the doctor, had all the tests and not once
did you ask me to go with you? I can’t believe you’d do that.’

‘I didn’t want to worry you.’

‘I was already worried,’ Pamela shouted angrily. ‘I’ve been telling you for months that there’s something wrong with you. If you’d gone straight away they might have caught it in time.’

Quietly Rowzee said, ‘I don’t think they would have . . .’

Pamela suddenly shot to her feet. ‘This is all nonsense,’ she raged tearfully. ‘I’m not having it, do you hear me? You need a second opinion, maybe even a third, because no way am I just sitting here accepting what one person says.’

‘Pamela, sit down,’ Graeme said gently.

Pamela only looked at him.

Rowzee said, ‘I’ve already had a second opinion and both surgeons have said that the tumour is inoperable.’

Clearly about to erupt again, Pamela rashly satisfied the urge with a slap to Bill’s face.

Though startled, Rowzee and Graeme couldn’t help laughing, while a bemused Bill rubbed his cheek and picked up his coffee.

‘We need to speak to these
surgeons
,’ Pamela informed Graeme, as though she doubted their credentials, or even existence.

Though Rowzee could see Graeme agreed, she was grateful to him for not saying so just yet. Presumably he wanted to hear everything she had to tell them before making up his mind about what should be done.

Since she’d already made up her own mind, and since her brother was usually a sane and rational human being, Rowzee was hopeful that her decisions would end up chiming with his. So, continuing under the force of Pamela’s frightened glare, she said, ‘They’ve given me about six months, maybe nine . . .’

‘No!’ Pamela gulped desperately. ‘I’m telling you no, Rowzee. You’ve got it confused, you don’t understand . . . It can’t . . . It . . .’ As she broke down sobbing, Rowzee went to fold her in her arms.

‘It’s all right,’ Rowzee whispered softly. ‘I promise. Everything’s going to be all right, because I have a plan.’

Grabbing a tissue from the box Bill was offering, Pamela dabbed her eyes and tried to look at her sister. ‘What do you mean, you have a plan?’ she asked warily.

‘I’m about to tell you,’ Rowzee replied. Once they were all sitting down again, she said, ‘The reason the tumour is inoperable is because it’s so close to,’ she checked her notes, ‘the cerebral artery, and if that gets damaged during surgery it could cause a major stroke.’

Pamela looked so afraid – and hopeful for the plan – that Rowzee quickly continued. ‘I had a long chat with the surgeon yesterday,’ she told them, ‘and I’ve decided to risk having the surgery. No, please don’t interrupt, not yet. I really don’t want to leave either of you, obviously, but there’s Jason, my grandson, to think about as well. Life might have been cruel in the way it took Edward away, but it’s given me Jason now,
and I want to be here for as long as I can to do my very best for him.’

Pamela’s hand went to her mouth as more tears flooded her eyes.

Pressing on, Rowzee said, ‘I’d like to have your solemn promises, Pamela and Graeme, that if I do suffer a major stroke during the op you will not do anything to overturn the instruction I shall give for non-resuscitation. I don’t think you can, actually, but I don’t want you to try.’

Pamela could only stare at her.

Graeme swallowed as he said, ‘Of course you have our promise, if that’s what you want.’

Rowzee reached for his hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m not afraid of dying,’ she lied, ‘I’m only afraid of not being me any more, of becoming a helpless burden on my family . . .’

‘OK, you can stop that right now,’ Pamela blurted. ‘I’m not killing you off just so you can avoid . . .’

‘Pamela, shush,’ Graeme interrupted.

‘Well, I’m not,’ she told him hotly. ‘I don’t care if she can’t feed herself, or go to the bathroom on her own, I’m not letting her die . . .’

‘But it isn’t about you,’ Graeme reminded her. ‘It’s about Rowzee and the quality of her life after the surgery.’

‘And it might be successful,’ Rowzee added, trying to sound cheerful, while knowing the chances were extremely slim. However, she’d rather go this way then have it drag out over months and months getting steadily worse, maybe even turning into the kind of
person who shouted abuse at people in the street, or tried to beat up her family.

Feeling certain she hadn’t finished yet, she consulted her notebook again and said, ‘Even if I do come through with no adverse side effects, we mustn’t forget that this is a secondary cancer so I’ll be playing out the last act anyway. They’ll give me treatment to help me live as normal a life as I can for as long as I can, but as soon as that changes and there’s no longer a way of reversing the decline, I want to end my life in a humane and dignified way.’

‘But you’re not an animal,’ Pamela sobbed angrily, ‘and I don’t understand why you’re so intent on killing yourself when you’re supposed to have a cancer that’s doing it for you. Why can’t you let things take their own course? You are such a control freak.’

Rowzee had to smile at that. ‘If I let them take their course I probably don’t have much more than six months,’ she reminded Pamela, ‘and my decline will be quite rapid from here on.’ She wasn’t going to tell them about her plans for Dignitas, since they were no longer relevant at this stage. Later, they might be, but they’d deal with that then. ‘If I have the operation and it works we can probably add as much as a year to that six months, maybe more, depending on how many miracles are looking for homes at the time.’

Graeme asked, ‘How soon can you have the operation?’

Rowzee’s mouth turned dry as she said, ‘Apparently they can make room for me in the next couple of weeks.’

Pamela said, testily, ‘But if you have the operation and it brings on a major stroke you want us to let you die, which means we could lose you as soon as next week? I have to wonder why we’re bothering to wait so long?’

Understanding her fear, and feeling it herself, Rowzee looked at Graeme.

‘I’d like to have a chat with the surgeon,’ he told her.

‘Yes, you must do that,’ Pamela agreed. ‘She’s probably got it all wrong. You know what you’re like,’ she said to Rowzee, ‘always forgetting the most important parts, or missing out something crucial to the story.’

‘That’s not true,’ Rowzee protested. ‘I’ve always been very good at remembering my lines.’

‘In fact,’ Pamela ran on undeterred, ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you don’t have cancer at all. You’ve probably been reading about someone who does and you’ve got things all mixed up. Or they have. It happens, you know.’

Rowzee didn’t argue, or remind Pamela that she was the one who’d been pointing out for months that something was wrong. Pamela knew it, and if it was helping her to take refuge in denial for now then Rowzee wasn’t about to force her out of it.

Getting to his feet Graeme came to put his arms round Rowzee, dwarfing her little frame in the size of his embrace. ‘Whatever happens,’ he said softly, tilting her face up to his, ‘you know we’ll always be here for you and we’ll support your wishes in every way.’

Rowzee could see Pamela was about to protest, but it seemed the feel of Bill’s hand sliding into hers was enough to stop her.

A few days later, with her surgery now scheduled for the end of the following week, Rowzee went to meet Andee at the Seafront Café. She’d been very busy since her chat with Pamela and Graeme, and had lots of things she needed to discuss with someone before putting herself into Mr Mervin’s hands. Since it would be too hard for her brother and sister to remain objective when they were emotionally involved, she’d decided that Andee was both wise and rational enough to give opinions or advice without attaching them to an agenda of her own.

‘I know Graeme’s told you,’ Rowzee said, as Andee came into the café and embraced her warmly, ‘so please don’t feel awkward, or think you have to trot out any appropriate words. I don’t think there are any, actually, or none that I can think of, but even if you can shall we just skip over them?’

‘If that’s what you want,’ Andee smiled tenderly.

‘Oh, it is. I can’t bear pity and anyway, I don’t need it when I’ve got so much of it for myself. Will you have a coffee?’

‘Americano,’ Andee told the waiter.

‘Make that two,’ Rowzee added, and as he went away she opened up her notebook to the list she’d made before coming. Then suddenly realising how self-involved she was being, she closed the book again, and said, ‘How is your dear mother? It was lovely to
see her at the funeral, though we could have wished for better circumstances, obviously.’

‘She’s fine,’ Andee assured her. ‘It did her good to let her hair down with you, and she’s liking having me under the same roof again.’

Rowzee’s eyes widened.

With irony, Andee said, ‘Martin has moved into the flat I rented in town, so I’ve returned to Bourne Hollow.’

Tentatively, Rowzee said, ‘Oh dear, I’m not sure whether that’s a good or a bad thing.’

‘Mostly good,’ Andee replied. ‘Mum and I get along very well, and Martin’s less likely to create a scene if she’s around.’

‘Does he create many scenes?’

‘He never used to. Incidentally, I haven’t told Mum your news because Graeme said you didn’t want anyone to know yet.’

Rowzee smiled. ‘I’m trying not to make too much fuss,’ she confided, ‘but I do have some things to ask of you. I hope they won’t be too much trouble,’ and opening her notebook again she turned it so Andee could see, ‘but in case I don’t make it through the operation, these,’ she was pointing to a roughly scrawled list, ‘are my dying wishes.’

Andee’s eyes filled with alarm.

‘Don’t worry about not being able to read my writing,’ Rowzee continued, ‘I’ll feed everything into the computer later and print it out. I just wanted to discuss things with you first, and make any amendments or additions that we might decide on.’ Her eyes came
anxiously to Andee’s. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking you to make sure they’re carried out, but you’re the only person I can think of, apart from Norma, who could do this, and she already has enough to be coping with. Besides, she’s on the list, and if no one’s checking she might quietly take herself off it and that just won’t do.’

As thrown as she was moved, Andee said, ‘I’m honoured that you would ask me, and I promise, provided it’s in my power, I’ll make sure your wishes are carried out.’

Rowzee beamed. ‘I knew asking you was the right decision,’ she declared, ‘but please don’t think you have to take responsibility for everything. A lot of this is in my will, but just in case I don’t die next week, I shall still want to see a lot of these things happen before I go and I might need your help to bring everyone on side.’ With a twinkle she added, ‘Pamela calls me a control freak and I’m beginning to think that maybe I got the genes too.’

Certain she had, albeit in a slightly more subtle version, Andee waited for her to continue.

Turning businesslike, Rowzee said, ‘OK, let’s start with Norma, because she’ll probably be the most difficult. I know she says she doesn’t need help taking care of Sean, but I’m afraid she does. You see, she won’t live for ever, and there’s no knowing how long he might go on for, so I’ve set up a trust to cover his needs once Norma can’t do it any more. That’s all in the will, but here, on this list, which will come into operation if I don’t die right away, is an instruction to give her a letter I’ve
already written and will give to you before I go into hospital, telling her that she is to accept the financial help I’m offering so she can have more of a life before it’s too late. She deserves it, and so does Jason. I know she won’t have a problem accepting funding for him to go to uni, or to take up an apprenticeship, because she wants it as much as I do. I’m quite clear in my letter about these being my dying wishes, so hopefully she won’t put up a fight.’

Having no idea what to say to that, Andee simply reflected that she’d probably never met a more determined or adorable human being in her life.

‘OK, next wish,’ Rowzee went on. ‘I don’t think there’ll be too much of a problem with this, but if I’m not strong enough to get Blake properly on board myself, I’d like you to lend some muscle. He’s had an idea, you see, that I think is brilliant, and I promised to help him bring it to fruition, but only if he would oversee it himself. As it involves the school he’s reluctant to take a lead, but no one will be able to run it as well as he can, not even me, especially not me, given how scatty I am these days and we know that’s not going to improve. His idea is to start up a collaborative project between the students of art, literature and music. Actually, I think it started out as Jessica’s idea, which is why I’m referring to it as the Jessica Project. I’m in the process of writing letters for the heads of each of these departments, reminding them of the conversations we’ve already had on the subject. They won’t have forgotten, but if they understand that it’s my dying wish to get the project off
the ground with Blake, I’m sure they’ll do it.’

Finding herself wanting to laugh, Andee said, ‘I can see you’ve got a lot of faith in the power of a dying wish.’

‘Haven’t you?’ Rowzee replied in surprise.

Deciding that yes, she probably had, Andee gestured for her to continue.

‘Right, next on the list is Blake again,’ Rowzee told her. ‘I want him to put on an exhibition of his own paintings, probably at the Guild Hall. I have contacts there who I hope you’ll give one of my letters to – I could use Royal Mail, of course, but if it’s hand-delivered by you I think that will carry a lot more clout.’

‘So is Blake keen to have this exhibition?’ Andee asked carefully.

‘He says no, but Jenny and Matt say yes, so I think we should listen to them. He shuns the limelight because of what happened at the school up north, but hopefully we’ll get him over that.’