Chapter Nine
December 2015
Christmas day went by smoothly and Sally and Gerry were great company. They didn’t continuously hound Lydia to have fun and they gave her her own space. They chatted over dinner preparations and Lydia went in to see Theo as soon as visiting hours started, then again after lunch when she’d needed to walk off the mound of turkey, pigs in blankets and roast potatoes. The only criticism of either of them that day was that they seemed to think she might forget to eat if they didn’t remind her, and that this day was their one and only chance to feed her up. That said, it was the first day Lydia had really had much of an appetite to eat a big meal in the company of friends, and it had made a welcome change.
Since that day in Hertfordshire and meeting Jonathan Maynard, Lydia had struggled to make sense of what was happening to her and Theo’s lives. It wasn’t just that she’d found Jonathan attractive, attractive people were everywhere, but it was more that they’d gelled in a different way and she could’ve easily sat there talking to him for hours. And that thought, that feeling, had almost bowled her over. She’d gone straight back to the hotel and packed her things, and instead of driving home first she’d gone directly to the hospital to see Theo. Graham had already been in to say his goodbyes before he headed back to New Zealand to look after his wife. Lydia felt sorry for the man, having two loved ones to care for, but he was strong, just like Theo. She assured him she would keep in touch if Anita failed to, and he told her he’d be back in a month or so. The look on his face when he’d had to leave his son had all but broken Lydia’s heart and she knew he’d be crying the second he walked out of the hospital.
Anita was still there that day, but this time Lydia didn’t care. She didn’t try to avoid the woman, instead she calmly washed her hands and used the antibacterial wash and went in to see her boyfriend, talk to him, let him know she was still there. She was still his. Anita made her excuses quickly enough, with a polite yet tight smile and something about going for some fresh air, and then Lydia had talked all about her day at the ski centre. She told Theo how cold it was inside, the snow that was way better than the dry ski slope she’d learned on, she talked about how it reminded her of their trip to New Zealand. She reminisced about that holiday, talking about The Remarkables, the mountain range a short drive from Queenstown, the ski field where she had first experienced skiing on snow. She held onto Theo’s hand, and oblivious to the nurse monitoring the machines to ensure everything was as it should be, she giggled about the almighty hangovers they’d nursed on their final day on the slopes, which had seen them leaving their lessons early, returning for a sleep at the apartment, and then when Theo had gone out for a free ski she’d taken herself into town for a massage.
The time between Christmas and New Year dragged on in the post-excitement lull and before the last hurrah of the final day of the year. Lydia visited Theo every day, with the office shut for a week and causing her to declare ‘boredom’ to him every time she went to the hospital. And apart from seeing Anita on occasion, both women respectfully kept their distance from one another whenever they could.
On New Year’s Eve, Gerry went out with his mates after all three of them visited Theo. Lydia had taken a box of posh Marks and Spencer’s biscuits for the nurses and doctors to share, because she’d totally forgotten at Christmas and some of them had been so kind to her. Sally and Lydia spent New Year’s Eve watching movies and pigging out on the remains of Sally’s Christmas chocolate. Lydia’s tree in the lounge at home was still adorned with chocolates because without Theo she hadn’t quite been able to bring herself to pluck a single one off. Every time she looked at the tree, smelt the scent of it, it reminded her of them choosing it from the farm, him shouting at her to hold it down as he fixed it to the roof, her laughing when he slipped in mud and fell on his arse, and when they’d made love for the last time beneath the lights.
In the second week of January, it was time to go back to work and although Lydia hadn’t been in the office, she’d written up the charity ski article over the holidays ready for the deadline today. Having given her copy to her boss to approve, she spent the morning sifting through images from the photographer.
‘He’s supposed to be good,’ said Ian as he approached her desk, pen rattling between his fingers.
Jonathan Maynard? ‘Who?’
‘The photographer, Pete. The man whose photos you’re perusing now.’ He laughed and shook his head. ‘Jeez, Lydia, you’re still in the post-Christmas spirit: no energy or oomph.’
Sometimes she wanted to tell him exactly what her life entailed right now. He probably thought she’d spent Christmas curled up with a guy watching romantic movies on the television, or going out on Christmas Eve in search of a Christmas kiss, and had nothing more to worry about than who ate the last After Eight or whether they had enough ice cubes for their Baileys Irish Cream. But as tempting as it was to divulge everything about Theo, she didn’t want to. At least not yet. It was easier to cope with that way. No sympathetic looks, no asking every day how he was and whether he was getting better. Because her answer would only be, ‘no he bloody isn’t. He’s lying there not moving, not talking, and I really don’t think he’s coming back.’ And then she would tell them all about her promise to Theo and how she’d let Anita lead the way with the consultants to make sure that every extraordinary measure that could be taken was followed to the letter.
Lydia turned her screen so Ian could see. ‘He’s taken some great shots of the event and there are a couple of Jonathan…Maynard.’ She added his surname because it sounded way too familiar otherwise. ‘I think you’ll be happy with the finished article.’
‘And what was he like?’
‘Sorry?’
Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Jonathan Maynard. Bit of a charmer, I hear.’
He certainly was and she hadn’t been immune to the effect. ‘He was very nice, very polite and I’ve got some great quotes to use. Are you happy with what you’ve read?’
‘It’s all good. I’m just wondering if he said anything more about how he got involved in the charity side of things. You know what the public are like, a human-interest angle goes a long way, clarifies things for them.’
Ian was a great boss. Relaxed and modern, they were allowed to wear jeans in the office and used their discretion about clothing when attending events, conferences or meetings, but he did have a tendency to quote from journalism guidelines verbatim, and as he began his speech about human interest selling more sometimes than the rest of the subject matter of the article, she thought of Jonathan and his reply to her email. She’d sent him the piece as promised, and he’d agreed with how she’d written it. She’d left a lot of what he’d told her out of the write-up and he was very appreciative. She hadn’t heard from him since but she knew he’d flown off to Italy, the next stop for his teaching adventures.
‘I’m afraid that’s all he gave me,’ she lied. ‘And he’s off around Europe now. Incommunicado.’
‘Ah well, can’t be helped.’
Ian watched as Lydia carried on flipping through some of the shots from the photographer. They decided on the headline of the piece, and once they’d finished it was time for Lydia to move on to research for an article about flying long-haul and top tips for surviving not only the flight itself but the inevitable jet lag, especially with a young family in tow.
After work it was to the hospital for Lydia, thankfully without having to make any excuses. Nobody at the office was pressuring anyone else to go out for drinks. They’d done enough of that before Christmas and now everyone had quietened down, and tightened up their purse strings for at least a month or so. Another thing about her boss, Ian, was that he demanded hard work and diligence from his staff but he didn’t expect it much after the traditional clock-off time. He thought it would prompt burnout and only expected it if there was a particularly tight deadline. Other than that, staff were free to go or could take work home and do it whenever was convenient.
She left work and made her way towards the bus station. She passed through a small park, appreciating a glimpse of green space in a city steeped with history, culture and impressive architecture. The winter had been milder than anticipated with the threat of snow only hovering in the clouds above, and already there was a small clump of snowdrops behind a fence, buried near the base of a bush. The dangling white flowers swayed gently in the same breeze that made Lydia wrap her scarf more tightly around her neck, burying her face deep beneath. The snowdrops may be brave enough for the cold but she wasn’t. Not quite yet.
*
By early February it was as though those snowdrops had multiplied, with others coming out in force, their beautiful white tops making a soft blanket surrounding trees, behind fences, and daffodils had deigned to join them, braving the seasonal winds forcing the city to cling on to winter.
At the hospital it was business as usual. She greeted the staff she knew, acknowledged those she wasn’t so familiar with. Anita had already gone, knowing this was the time Lydia usually came in. They had fallen into an unspoken routine with Lydia coming along at five o’clock and Anita returning from six o’clock to eight o’clock, after her tea at the same bed and breakfast that, according to Grace, had given her a cheap deal because she used it so frequently now.
Theo looked the same. Not good but at the same time not bad, and Lydia had started to find an inner peace rather than continuously torturing herself that this wasn’t what he wanted. Someone had come in and cut Theo’s hair, in a fashion, and Lydia had promptly whispered in his ear that he shouldn’t worry, when he got out of here she’d take him to his favourite barber’s where they gave you a beer while you had your hair cut, and they’d sort out the mess the hospital’s hairdresser had made. He was thirty-one, not ten, and he was far too old for the schoolkid short-back-and-sides he’d been given. Anita had also taken to shaving him regularly and Lydia was grateful. It was such an intimate thing to do, another thing he’d hate if he was able to voice an opinion.
After the nurse had been in, Lydia used a damp sponge to wet Theo’s lips, which were prone to getting dry and cracked. She told him all about her day. ‘Sally’s been away skiing,’ she told him. ‘She twisted her ankle quite badly. Gerry told her she could do a black run and she tried, bless her. Hopefully she’ll be up and about soon enough, she’s resting it at the moment and I took her some chocolates and a bottle of wine yesterday.’ She stopped dabbing his lips. ‘Snow sports are a dangerous pastime, not for everyone.’
She turned to drop the sponge back into the bowl and then squeezed Theo’s hand. ‘Come on,’ she whispered, ‘please give me something so I know this was the right thing to do. Just squeeze my hand or turn your head. Anything. Your mum fought for you because she thinks you’ll get through this.’ She gulped. ‘If anyone can, you can, so please try.’
