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A feeling of gratitude takes me over. ‘It’s amazing what you do. But aren’t there times when it gets to you?’
‘Yes.’ He shrugs. ‘We try to stay emotionally uninvolved. But believe me, when you get to know someone, it isn’t that simple.’ He frowns. ‘Does Marnie have any family?’
I roll my eyes. ‘A mother who doesn’t want to know, and a father who left when she was a small child.’
He looks sympathetic. ‘So when it comes to moral support, it’s you?’
‘And Forrest. From everything she’s said, he’s great.’ I pause. ‘And it’s fine. I want to be there for her.’
‘Do you have anyone to talk to about this?’ he asks quietly.
‘I’ve only really talked to you about her.’ My voice is husky, my eyes filling with tears again. ‘God, this is ridiculous.’ I wipe my face for the umpteenth time, wondering what he must be thinking of me.
‘It really isn’t.’ He hesitates. His eyes hold mine for a moment. ‘You do know, don’t you, that if you want to talk, I’m here for you.’
It’s as though my heart sighs, as instinctively I reach for his hand. Finding it, I feel his tighten around mine. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper.
But after he leaves, I can’t focus. That Marnie’s considering the hospice at all tells me she’s taken another step.
For the most part, I’ve refused to consider anything other than her getting well, but I’m no longer able to delude myself, and my mind wanders somewhere I’d rather not go.
A sigh comes from me. From the day Marnie walked into the shop, she’s changed my life. Tears fill my eyes as I at last face what I’ve been denying.
That when she’s gone, I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.
31
JACK
As I knock on Marnie’s door, I’m not sure what to expect. Over years of working in the hospice, I’ve seen people react in such different ways. Most assume a hospice is somewhere to stay when the end is near – and often, it is. But I want Marnie to know that it’s much more than this. It’s a place that offers advice and emotional support; where medication can be reassessed, or respite provided.
‘Hi.’ Her eyes look haunted as she opens the door. ‘Thanks for coming.’ As I step inside, she closes it behind me. ‘Can I make you a cup of tea?’
‘Thanks.’ I follow her along a short hallway into a light, airy kitchen, where I pull out a chair, watching her busy herself making tea. ‘Is Forrest here?’
‘You just missed him. This isn’t easy for him.’ As she places a mug in front of me, her hands shake, slopping tea onto the table.
‘How long has that been going on?’ I ask quietly.
‘A couple of weeks.’ She shakes her head. ‘There are other things – my vision, my legs… This ridiculous, ongoing tiredness…’
‘Headaches?’ I watch as she nods. ‘What would you like to know?’
‘I suppose I want honesty. I want to know what to expect.’ As she sits back, her voice is husky as she looks me in the eye. ‘I want to know what will happen – at the end.’
The following day, when I call into Rae’s shop, she looks no less tired. Stepping closer, as I fold my arms around her, her body is tight against me.
‘How did it go with Marnie?’ she asks, gently pulling away.
I nod. ‘I think it was useful.’
‘Did she tell you how much she’s been dreading this?’ Rae looks stretched to breaking point.
I nod. ‘We talked about it.’ However hard this is, something clearly needs to change. I look at her sternly. ‘What you need is goat therapy.’
‘I don’t have time.’ The anxious look is back.
‘You can. Even if it’s just for an hour – after work. And Marnie’s probably with Forrest. She’ll be fine.’
