Chapter Eleven
March 2016
Imogen arrived in Bath in a flurry of excitement. Excited to share all her travel news, delighted to be on home soil, looking forward to her new job, elated to see her sister and hug her in what felt like forever, and anxious to hear everything that had happened since she went away.
The feeling of elation didn’t last long.
‘You could’ve told me.’ Tears streamed down her face that cold March morning, but telling someone else, Lydia was more together than she’d been in a long time.
‘I didn’t want to take away from what you had going on. And if the news had been different then I might have said something, but from the day he went into a coma, life has been stuck in the same place.’ Like an old LP and no matter how long it kept playing, circling round on that turntable, the needle never got out of the groove.
Theo had been moved to the high-dependency ward a couple of weeks ago and the consultant had talked with Anita and Lydia. Lydia thought he was carefully selecting his words, perhaps aware of the strain between the two women given their opposing views on what would’ve been best back in the early days of the accident. But maybe Lydia was reading too much into it. Maybe he was just reciting what needed to be said and leaving them to process it in their own way.
‘How does he eat?’ Imogen asked when they went to see Theo at the hospital. She sounded like a child in class wanting to know how everything worked.
‘He has something called a PEG in his stomach. Food, fluid and medication goes through there.’
‘He looks like Theo,’ Imogen observed as they sat at his bedside. ‘He looks like he’s sleeping apart from he’s a bit thinner.’
Lydia didn’t need Imogen to point out how Theo was slowly starting to show the most subtle of changes. He’d always been well-built, strong, but now his cheeks were more shallow, his chest not as muscular, even his arms looked strangely different. Half the time Lydia didn’t know what was real and what she was imagining.
‘And his hair,’ said Imogen. ‘What the fuck is going on with his hair?’
Lydia burst out laughing at the honest remark. ‘Someone cut it.’
‘I’ll say!’
‘I know, it’s not great.’
‘He’d hate it!’ Imogen grinned. ‘Do you remember that time your friend at uni cut his hair?’
‘He said never again.’ Lydia remembered the time fondly, because his face had been a picture, his protests igniting such laughter amongst friends. ‘He called her a complete amateur. He’d been trying to save money but ever since then he’s always paid for a decent hairdresser.’
Theo had no idea what he looked like these days. He didn’t know what had been done to his hair or anything else. He’d been poked, prodded, moved around, and the more it happened the more Lydia was beginning to realise that the Theo she knew and loved so deeply was gradually moving further and further away from her, and the more time marched on, the less likely his chances of a meaningful recovery. It’d been nearly three months now and if she heard those words ‘no change’ one more time, she swore she’d scream.
Imogen had wanted to take flowers to the hospital before Lydia had explained the rigours of the intensive-care unit, and now the high-dependency unit, so on their way home she insisted on stopping at the florist and buying the most cheerful bunch she could find.
Now she arranged bright yellow sunflowers in the vase that stood proudly on the lounge room windowsill. The bloomspicked up the subtle hint of yellowy-gold on the tiles surrounding the fireplace, a nice contrast to the grey and white colour scheme.
‘There,’ said Imogen satisfactorily. ‘These are for Theo even though he can’t have them in the hospital.’
He wouldn’t be able to see the bloody things anyway, Lydia thought, slumping down into the armchair with the Chinese takeaway menu so they could order in. It had been Imogen’s suggestion before she’d arrived at the house today. She’d said she didn’t want Lydia or Theo having to cook for her, she wanted to treat them and at the time Lydia had skittered over the fact that Theo wouldn’t exactly be involved in tonight’s proceedings.
Once they’d ordered their meal, the girls opened a bottle of wine Imogen had chosen from the off-licence. A Marlborough Sounds sauvignon blanc she’d tried over in New Zealand and insisted Lydia simplyhadto sample sat between them on the coffee table and they left the lounge door open for fear of missing the delivery guy when he knocked.
‘How’s Theo’s sister coping?’ Imogen asked.
‘She’s doing okay. I don’t bump into her much. I’ve only seen her at the hospital a couple of times but she struggles to get down here from work, so it’s hit and miss whether we are ever at the hospital at the same time.’
‘Does she have an opinion on the whole situation?’
‘You mean whether he should’ve been kept alive?’
Imogen nodded although her eyes glistened with tears.
‘I haven’t asked her. But it’s not as clear-cut as that, Imogen. It’s what Theo asked me to promise him, but decisions had to be made without the benefit of hindsight, and none of us know what will happen in the long-term. He may end up getting better, he may not.’
Lydia had ignored some of the text messages from Grace and only messaged back the odd sentence when she felt it would be rude not to at least acknowledge her contact. She excused her lack of wanting to talk by claiming work was hectic and she was rushed off her feet, but really she didn’t want to talk about Theo and how much he would resent being kept alive, stuck in a bed unable to do anything for himself. She didn’t want to be reminded of the one way she’d let him down. Grace had the same determined streak in her as her brother and the same need to push things her way if they felt anyone had been wronged, and she was as persuasive as Theo. Lydia wouldn’t mind betting if she’d agreed with Lydia about the best course of action for her brother, even Anita may have listened. As a child, Grace had managed to get Anita to buy her not just one puppy but two when Anita was a self-claimed cat lover and not a fan of dogs; she had her dad wrapped around her little finger, he’d run her to concerts that were deemed inappropriate by most of the family, he’d approved the gap year when her mother thought she should start her job straight away in the current economic climate, and she’d persuaded Theo to let her, as a learner who’d only passed her test two weeks before, to drive his very expensive and shiny new car over to a friend’s house some thirty miles away, on a dark and foggy night when he never would’ve caved for anyone else. Grace was responsible, careful and reliable as well as being persuasive, so life usually went the way she wanted it to.
