Page 80 of Postscript

‘Are we still good for Eva’s videos tomorrow?’ he asks, high-energy, anxious, worried as if I’m going to say no.

‘Everything is organised.’

‘Great,’ he says. ‘Then we’re almost finished. I need to have it all complete by next week.’

Once I’m finished with Paul, there’s only one person left. What will I do then? ‘Why next week?’

‘The craniotomy is scheduled.’

Without a doubt, brain surgery of any description is probably the most dangerous surgery you can undergo. A craniotomy is the most common type of brain surgery to remove a brain tumour, where the surgeon cuts out a part of the skull to get to the brain. Often it’s not possible for the surgeon to remove all the tumour so they remove as much as they can; this is called debulking. The risks are infection, haemorrhage, or bleeding in the brain, blood clots, brain swelling, seizures, some patients can develop a stroke due to low blood pressure.

‘My husband had one.’

‘It will be my third. The surgeon has suggested there may be left-sided paralysis.’

‘They have to give you the worst-case scenario.’

‘I know. But I want to have all the messages ready, just in case. I’ve written the letter for Claire, and we’ve dozens of videos, you’ll have them all ready, won’t you?’ His legs bounce nervously beneath the steering wheel.

‘I’ve been sending them to the email address we set up for Casper and Eve,’ I say calmly, trying for my tone to be an influence.

‘My letter will tell Claire what to do for the kids,’ he says.

I nod. I hope Claire will think it’s a good idea, otherwise she will be burdened for the rest of her life delivering emails to her growing children. I wonder if I should ask him this, but instead I ask, ‘Paul, should you even be driving?’

He’s irritated by this question.

‘I ask only out of concern.’ For almost four years my days revolved around what Paul is experiencing. I know about the double vision, the seizures, the immobilisation. Gerry’s licence had been suspended.

‘After next week, I won’t be. After next week, I won’t be doing a lot of things. Thanks for your help, Holly.’

It’s blunt and I know it’s my cue to get out of the car.

A tap on my window gives me a fright.

Paul looks up and curses.

I look out and see a young woman, around my age, with a yoga mat bag over her shoulder, glaring angrily through the window.

‘Shit,’ I whisper. I look at Paul, who’s white in the face. ‘Is that Claire?’

He paints on a wide grin and gets out of the car.

‘Paul,’ I hiss, my heart pounding with nerves.

‘Just go with what I say.’ He smiles at me through gritted smiling teeth.

Claire backs away from my window.

‘Hi honey,’ I hear him say warmly, oozing with charm and in my opinion lies.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ I whisper to myself before taking a deep breath and opening the door.

Claire won’t embrace her husband, her body language is cold.

‘What the hell are you two doing?’ She looks at me. ‘Who the hell are you? What are you doing with my husband?’

‘This is Holly, honey,’ he says in a warning tone. ‘Look at me. This is Holly. She’s a friend of Joy’s, she’s a member of the book club.’