Page 38 of All the Things We Never Knew

‘Anna,’ she began. ‘I… I hope you don’t think I’m speaking out of turn here. I know how difficult it is for you having me come here, and I’m sorry. I know how tough all this is for you.’

I watched her, almost enjoying her discomfort. Then she seemed to gather herself, calling on some resource of inner poise or training or sheer bloody-mindedness.

‘I’m not a palliative care specialist,’ she went on. ‘I work in A&E. Before that I was in the ICU. I’ve seen a lot of families go through incredibly difficult times with their loved ones. And as… well, speaking as a professional, there’s something I thought I should mention to you.’

‘Go on,’ I said, facing her across the kitchen island, my forearms resting on the cool marble. I met her eyes, like I was daring her to come out with what she was clearly afraid of saying.

‘I wonder’ – she took a long breath and let it out again – ‘whether it might be time for Gray to move to a residential care setting.’

‘You mean a place where he’d live. As opposed to this, which is what?’

‘I mean a hospice,’ she said. ‘Gray is… His care needs are increasing. You know that, Anna. It can’t be easy having him at home. He knows how much of a burden this is placing on you and the children.’

Part of me knew that what she was saying was true. Over the past week, I’d become increasingly conscious of just that burden, and I knew it would only grow heavier.

But who was she to tell me this? What right had she to even notice what was going on in my home, with my husband? Who had appointed her Gray’s spokeswoman?

Barely able to keep my anger in check, I said, ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I’m sorry, Anna. I don’t want to impose. Perhaps it’s something you and Gray could discuss, though.’

‘What – you think my husband and I haven’t maybe – just maybe – already touched on the subject of him dying?’

‘Of course I know you’ve⁠—’

‘Let me tell you something, Laurel. Because you’ve been here to see Gray – what, five times? I’ve been here day in, day out. I’ve seen how what he wants changes. First he wanted jelly so I got him jelly. Then he didn’t want that any more so I got him custard. Then it was rice pudding until he didn’t want that either. Then it was chicken soup and I stood here boiling bones for fucking hours and now I’ve got a freezer full of the stuff that he can’t eat.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘It must be⁠—’

‘You don’t know.’ I took a gulp of my water and banged the glass down on the counter. ‘You’ve got no fucking idea because all you do is swan in and play games with him for an hour. He needs me. I’m looking after him.’

‘You’re managing wonderfully. It’s just that⁠—’

‘One thing he’s been absolutely clear about, Laurel. All the time, ever since he got diagnosed with this evil bastard of a disease – even when he’s off his face on morphine and can’t remember my name – is that he wants to die here, at home, with his family around him and his cat on his bed. Like Terry Pratchett. That’s what he said.’

‘People change their minds.’ She was still speaking calmly, but I could see her hands trembling as she lifted her glass to her lips. ‘When they realise what it’s like for the family. It’s not uncommon⁠—’

‘I don’t think he’s changed his mind,’ I spat. ‘I think you’ve changed it. I think you’ve persuaded him that what you want is what he wants. Because you want to be with him – now, when it’s getting close to the end. You want to get your claws into him and take him away from his wife and his children just when he’s going to be taken away from us anyway, because you couldn’t manage to take him away from us before.’

Abruptly, she started to cry. ‘That’s not what I want. Honestly, I never wanted that. I never wanted any of this to happen.’

‘Oh yes, you did. Don’t play the victim here, Laurel. People don’t fuck married men by accident. You didn’t slip on a banana skin and – whoops – there you were in his bed. Don’t give me that shit. I’m not stupid.’

Laurel took a tissue out of her pocket and pressed it to her eyes. She wasn’t wearing any make-up; if she had, it would have been running all down her face.

‘Okay,’ she said, straightening her shoulders. ‘I understand. I won’t mention it again.’

But I wasn’t finished. ‘You think you know him, don’t you? You think, after – what? A year? – you know him well enough to make decisions about what’s best for him and our family. Well, you don’t. You don’t have a clue about Gray. I’ve known that man for twenty years, warts and all. You think he loves you, don’t you?’

‘I…’ she stammered. ‘Anna, he’s never said he doesn’t love you. Not even once.’

‘That’s because he doesn’t know what love is,’ I spat. ‘Doesn’t have a clue. Love him all you want, you’ll only get your heart broken same as I have.’

Two bright spots of colour appeared in her cheeks, and I could see she was angry now, as well as blindsided by my sudden attack. But somehow she still managed to keep her voice calm.

‘We’re both going to get our hearts broken,’ she said. ‘You and me. There’s no getting away from that.’

Her words silenced me because there was no hiding from the truth in them. She was right – there was no point in squabbling over a dying man like a pair of hyenas at a kill. It was ugly – it was shameful. It was futile.