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‘I do.’ The thought that someone else loves my goats makes my heart swell. Bella and Jojo deserve love – they were rescued from a farm when Jojo was just a day-old kid. ‘But as we both know, they’re far more trouble than a dog would be. And I appreciate you loving them.’ Goats are too meddlesome and cheeky for some people.
Gertie smiles. ‘These are lovely, Jack. Thank you.’
Before trying to get some much-needed sleep, I walk down the garden to the paddock at the far end where the aforementioned goats stop eating and trot towards me. Dropping an armful of hay over the fence, I fend off their inquisitive noses before climbing into their paddock.
There’s something serenely peaceful about being around animals and as I listen to the sound of them munching, I perch on an upturned bucket and gently scratch Jojo behind the ears.
Beside the paddock, the cherry tree is in bud, the birds in full song, as despite Lisa leaving, suddenly I’m aware of how lucky I am, not only to live here, but that I’m healthy; that hopefully Ihave years ahead to look forward to. As I’m reminded every day at work, not everyone has that.
It’s a feeling that stays with me when I go inside. Gazing for a moment at the photo of Lisa on the wall, it seems ridiculous that it’s still there. Taking it down and putting it away, I go to the dresser and do the same to another. It’s a turning point. Significant, albeit a small one.
On my way back to work that evening, I reach some roadworks blocking the main road and the traffic is diverted through Arundel. As I drive through the centre, out of the corner of my eye, I notice the girl I met at the folly.
In jeans and a short jacket, she has a hat pulled over her long dark hair. As she waits to cross the road, I briefly consider stopping, just to say hello, but with my shift about to start, it isn’t the time.
Today, when I reach the nurses’ station and look at the list of patients on the board, I feel my heart sink. Rose is back. Aged eighty-nine, with stage four cancer, everyone knows Rose hasn’t much time left. But I happen to know she’s been hanging on, hoping to see the love of her life just one more time before she leaves this world.
‘Hey, Jack.’ Tilly’s just ending her shift. ‘Rose was admitted this morning.’
‘So I saw. I’ll pop along and see her in a minute.’
‘She was quite upset.’ Tilly looks thoughtful. ‘I think she knows she doesn’t have long. She’s still talking about the man she was hoping would come to see her. Apparently she’s written to him, but he hasn’t replied.’
I nod. ‘She’s told me about him.’ His name is Mitchell Clement. From what she’s said, they were soulmates. They met as teenagers, but lost touch when his family moved away. By the time they saw each other again it was years later and both of them were married. But she’s never forgotten him. It’s a classic story of lives out of sync and bad timing, one I’ve seen too often, that leaves only regrets. Rose has missed him all her life, but you can’t turn the clock back. ‘I’ll go and see her.’
As I walk towards the door, Tilly calls after me. ‘Jack? Try not to…’ She breaks off, because we’re all guilty of it, but none of us can bring ourselves to say it.Try not to care – too much.
I knock softly on Rose’s door before pushing it open. ‘Rose? It’s Jack.’
Under her bed covers, she’s tiny and frail. But her eyes hold a wonderful light and as I reach her field of vision, her face crinkles into a smile. ‘Jack, dear. I’m sorry to be such a bother.’
‘A bother is one thing you’re not.’ I pick up the chart from the table next to her bed. ‘How are you feeling?’
Rose’s eyes flutter closed for a moment. I watch the faintest movement of her chest as she opens them again. ‘There’s no pain, if that’s what you mean – at least, not most of the time. It just feels… like I’m fading. And I suppose I am.’
It’s a word I’ve heard many people use in their last days and hours, as life slowly slips away from them. ‘I can give you something for the pain.’
‘No.’ The trace of obstinacy in her voice is a giveaway as to how formidable Rose must have been once. ‘I want to be awake.’
I’ve seen before how time becomes rarefied; the need to hold on to each of these last moments. ‘OK. But let me know, won’tyou? If you change your mind?’ It’s Rose’s choice. ‘Still no word from Mitchell?’
‘Nothing,’ she says quietly.
Rose hasn’t told her children about Mitchell. She hasn’t wanted to cast doubt on the happiness they remember of their childhoods. But I know what it would mean to her, to be able to see him one last time. ‘Why don’t you give me all the information you have, and when I get home, I’ll have a look online and try to find him?’
Her lips move slightly in the faintest of smiles. ‘Oh, Jack. Would you?’
‘No promises, but I’ll give it a go.’
‘In my bag…’ she murmurs. ‘There’s a brown envelope.’
I glance towards the tapestry-style holdall that always accompanies Rose. ‘Do you mind if I look?’
When she nods, I delve into its depths to find little in there. These days, Rose travels light. Pulling out a folded brown envelope, I hold it in front of her.
‘That’s it.’ Satisfied, Rose’s eyes close again.
I leave the curtains open, because there are things I’ve learned about Rose since she started coming here – that her sight may be poor, but when she’s awake, she can still make out the light changing as the sun sets and night falls, just as she likes to feel the breeze from the open window. Simple pleasures, she calls them. Dimming the light in the corner of the room, I leave her to rest.
