A Song in the Night (22 page)

The nurse bent down and took her hand. “Beth, I have a Bible you can read if you want to. If you ask me, I’m allowed to get it for you.” She gave a little smile. “Hospital rules, y’know.”

Beth looked at her, her face wet with tears. “
Really?
You have one with you?”

The young nurse nodded. “I never go anywhere without it. But I have others at home, so you can keep it as long as you need.”

Beth pulled a tissue from her sleeve and began to dab her face. “Are you into God then? Hope you don’t mind me asking … it’s kinda important to me right now. I could do with talking to someone.”

The young nurse smiled again. “We’re quiet at the moment. Would you like to go into the sitting room and have a chat? I can make us a cuppa.”

The nurse was called Belinda. It turned out she had worked on the unit for two years, hailed originally from Chingford, and had been a Christian since her late teens. Beth asked her if she found her job depressing. Belinda said it was very hard at times but immensely rewarding. Beth couldn’t imagine what possible reward there was to be found in watching people die, but she kept this opinion to herself.

After the initial introductions were out of the way, Beth found herself wondering how to get the conversation rolling. As Belinda sat across from her, her expression gentle and unhurried, she decided to get straight to the point. “This morning I was told I only have months to live. I don’t know what to do with that.” She pushed her long hair behind her ears in thinly disguised agitation. “I’m twenty-four years old. I just can’t get my head round it.”

Belinda looked at her sympathetically but said nothing. The young ones often got angry; it was best to let them vent it before trying to counsel them.

“I had such dreams. I was on the point of really making something of my life. I’m
twenty-four,
for crying out loud.” Beth shook her head, a look of desperation in her eyes. “Why? Why would God let this happen to me? Is he mad at me? Is it some kind of punishment?” She shuddered then, as though afraid of the answer. “I know I’ve let him down. But I’m sorry. Really sorry. I wish I could turn the clock back. Do all the things I should have done – undo some of the things I did do.” She buried her face in her hands and began to cry again.

Belinda came to her side and began to stroke her shoulder. For the moment there were no words to be said. The girl was crumpled with grief, and though Belinda’s mind teemed with a thousand things she wanted to say, she knew she had to let Beth weep. Some time later, when the raw emotion had subsided and Beth, dazed with exhaustion, was slumped back in her chair, Belinda looked at her intently.

“God loves you, Beth. Your illness isn’t a punishment.” Her dark eyes searched Beth’s face. “I don’t pretend to have all the answers, but one thing I know for sure. The Lord loves you very, very much.”

Beth shook her head again and looked down at the table. “I don’t want to die, Belinda. I don’t want to. I want someone to tell me it’s all a dream – a
nightmare
.” She was shaking now and her lips trembled as she spoke. “How would you feel if it was
you?
”

It was a direct question, but there was no malice in it. No accusation of injustice or hint of resentment. Just a pleading enquiry from a girl who was scared to death.

Belinda thought for a moment. “I can’t say, Beth. I honestly don’t know.”

Beth shuddered. “I feel trapped inside my own body. I want to be someone else, somewhere else – anywhere but here … .” She gave a sob. “But I can’t, can I? I’m me. I’m stuck in me.” Her voice thinned to a thread. “Please help me, Belinda.
Please.
”

Belinda closed her eyes. The sight of this young woman so desperate to live cut into her like a knife. She breathed a silent prayer before continuing. “A long time ago, Beth, I had a little brother. He was ten years younger than me. My mother once told me he was her ‘lovely surprise’.” She smiled gently. “I thought the world of him, we all did. But you know, Beth, he was born with a congenital immunodeficiency disease. From the start, we knew that without a miracle we weren’t going to keep him long. I found that terribly hard to deal with.” Belinda lowered her eyes. “I remember my parents used to pray for him every day. Sometimes I’d catch my mum crying when she thought no one was around. All his short life she knew what was coming. She was preparing herself for it. He was only seven when he died.”

Beth wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Belinda smiled again. “That little boy was so special, Beth. He loved Jesus with all his heart. Somehow he seemed to know he wouldn’t be staying around. But it didn’t upset him. He talked about heaven all the time, like he couldn’t wait to go there. I learnt something so precious from him. That there’s very little we can hold onto in this world. Not even life itself. From the moment Jamie was born, we knew he’d only been lent to us. We had to change our outlook on a lot of things – the whole family did. Make the most of every moment, not knowing how long we had. And
I
had to start searching for a deeper meaning to all this
‘life’
stuff. My parents had banged on at me for years about getting right with God, but well, you know what stroppy teenagers are like. I had to find it for myself.”

Beth nodded slowly. “Yeah. At that age I was pretty stroppy too.”

Belinda sat back in her chair. “In the end, I did get it. I figured, why spend your life trying to cling onto this old world when you’re only gonna lose it anyway in the end? That’s when I started getting into God I guess. Somehow, losing Jamie took the fear of death away for me. I knew exactly where he’d gone. That’s when I felt God calling me to do this.”

Beth frowned. “Do what?”

“Work with cancer patients. When I began my nurse training, I knew this was where I wanted to end up. You know, Beth, many people find that cancer’s a wakeup call. They have to make changes. Everything begins to take on a new perspective. For those like yourself who find themselves terminally ill, the perspective is even sharper. People who are facing death usually have questions. I don’t have all the answers, but I
can
pray that they will ask the
right
questions – the ones that really matter.”

It was several moments before either of them spoke again. Beth sat with her eyes closed, her thin hands stretched flat on the table in front of her. Eventually she lifted her head and looked straight at Belinda. “So what
are
the questions that matter, the ones I should be asking?”

Belinda looked towards the window.
Please Lord, help me out here. Help me get this right.
Her face broke into a smile. “I was hoping you’d ask me that, Beth.”

____________

Rosie felt too keyed up to go to bed. Ciaran hadn’t left until past midnight, about half an hour after Mel had texted to say she wouldn’t be coming in. Since then, Rosie’s head had been milling with questions that seemed to have no answers. She’d made up her mind not to go into work tomorrow. How could she work, how could she do anything? Beth was dying. It was too much to take in. As she mooched about the living room wondering what to do with herself, Sam’s words suddenly came back to bite her.

It all comes down to one thing in this game. You’re either alive or you’re dead. Simple as that …

How could anybody be so laid back about it? Was it possible, Rosie wondered, to be so surrounded by loss that one no longer felt it? Her mind went back to her schooldays. She could see the boys in her class playing football on the top field. She tried to imagine them in army uniforms. Surely it would have been like that; whole classfuls of boys, not two minutes out of school, answering the call of duty. She found it hard to think of lads like Blondie Savage or Shane ‘Six- Pack’ Robertson coming under orders. They’d have probably been shot within a week of joining up. Still, most of the guys in her class hadn’t been so bad. Just big kids really. They’d have loved a bit of war – make a change from computer games at least. A whole nation of lads queuing up to get a taste of the action; a whole heap of them on a one way ticket. It was like Beth times multitudes.

A dark sense of futility swept over her then. What was it all about anyway? A few years trying to get by in a world that didn’t seem to know why it was there either. Just a miserable little ball spinning around in space. No explanation for its existence; its cities swarming with the living, its dust heavy with the debris of the dead. None of it made any sense when you really looked at it. It was all so stupidly pointless.

What was it Boxer had said? The sorriest thing in the world was that a man die without ever having discovered why he was born in the first place, or something to that effect. Rosie sighed ruefully. It wasn’t something she’d ever given much thought to. She’d always been far too busy dodging the clouts and swipes that life had aimed at her; philosophising about her own existence had never been a luxury she could afford. But now it seemed the question had caught up with her.

So … why was I born in the first place?

She allowed herself to brood on it for a few moments, but no answer came. Only a vague, shadowy emptiness, and a sudden sense of being terribly alone. Beth was dying. The best friend she’d ever had. There was no explanation for something like that. Why should she expect anything else to make sense?

Losing mates is a part of life. You just have to accept it and get on with things.

Rosie had woken with a terrific headache. She’d hardly slept at all and now she was trying to distract her mind with a bit of aimless housework. She’d rung Mel early that morning to put her in the picture.

“Oh, you poor thing!” Mel had gushed. “I’ll bring you in something nice to cheer you up. Vienna slice, chocolate fudge cake – something yummy like that.”

Rosie had tried to protest but Mel had insisted. It was vital, she had counselled, to comfort eat. The body had to keep strong when all around was going pear-shaped. Rosie hadn’t bothered to argue.
It’s me that’ll be going pear-shaped by the time you’ve finished feeding me up, Melanie.
Still, Mel meant well. In her own dopey, mindless way.

Around dinnertime Rosie’s mobile bleeped. She was slightly surprised at the caller ID. Gavin didn’t usually ring in the middle of the day.

“Hi Rosie!” His voice was bright at the other end. “I’m just calling to let you know that we’re booked in. And this morning Mike e-mailed me some photos of our room. It’s got a fantastic view over the golf course, right down to the lake. Can’t wait to get over there – won’t be long now!”

Rosie’s heart quickened.
Our room?
No doubt what
he’d
got in mind then. She made no reply.

“You okay, Rosie? Kids playing you up or something?”

“I haven’t gone in this morning,” Rosie said flatly. “I didn’t feel up to it.”

“Are you ill?” Gavin jumped in before she had time to finish her explanation.

“No, not me. It’s Beth. They can’t treat her. We found out yesterday she only has a few months to live.”

For a couple of moments there was silence at the other end of the phone.

“Rosie, I’m so sorry. That’s just awful.” Gavin’s voice was suddenly quiet. “Listen, I’m coming round. I can take an hour off work – they’ll understand. I’ll be there shortly. Is that okay?”

It wasn’t a response Rosie would have expected, but then, Gavin seemed full of surprises these days. She mumbled affirmatively and clicked off her phone. She was badly in need of some TLC today. Perhaps Gavin would surprise her again.

Mel arrived home first, brandishing a box of cream buns. It was her half day and she seemed intent on spending the rest of the afternoon waiting on Rosie’s every whim. When the doorbell rang half an hour later, Mel looked puzzled. “Wonder who
that
can be …”

Rosie didn’t bother to enlighten her as Mel hurried towards the front door. She’d find out soon enough, and there was just something so entertaining about this girl when sprung upon by a desirable male. Mel’s voice sounded squeaky and excitable from the hallway. Seconds later, she hurried back into the living room with Gavin in tow.

“Look who’s here, Rosie – and just look what he’s brought for you!”

Even Gavin looked slightly embarrassed as Mel presented him like some trying-too-hard, adolescent suitor. He smiled knowingly at Rosie and held out a bunch of flowers, just as large as the one he’d given her before. There was a Thorntons’ bag hanging from his wrist. He reached inside it and pulled out a box of chocolates. “You need to spoil yourself,” he said kindly. “You’ve had a nasty shock.”

“That’s just what I was telling her earlier,” said Mel triumphantly. “And now she’s got two of us here to look after her. We’ll have her feeling brighter in no time, won’t we?” She beamed at them both. “Cup of tea, anyone?”

Rosie and Gavin exchanged glances. Rosie couldn’t help smiling as she saw a twinkle of amusement in Gavin’s eye. Mel was the most attentive gooseberry anyone could wish for.

____________

Le Sars October 5th 1916

Early this morning a group of us stumbled across a couple of Bosch taking shelter in some old ruins. Actually, it was Wilf and I that discovered them. I didn’t think we’d have any trouble taking them prisoner; the young lad went sheet white when he saw us and seemed ready to do anything I told him to. But suddenly the older chap lost his head and made a rush for us …

There was a light drizzle in the air as the group trudged wearily along the broken road. They’d been on an overnight working party and were off to locate the rest of their company. A steady, rhythmic thud sounded out as tired feet tramped the shattered
pavé.
The last few weeks had tested even the fittest man. Exhaustion was a constant companion these days. It marched alongside, its boots heavy and cumbersome, its voice like an agitated lullaby.

Fatigued as they were, the men kept up a cheerful banter as they walked. There was always someone ready to dig out a joke from somewhere. Several yards in front of the others, Sam and a very subdued Wilf were leading the way. For the last ten minutes Sam had been trying to draw Wilf into conversation. He’d met with little success. Wilf was distant and withdrawn. He moved along with his head down, and it seemed all he could do to mumble a reply to Sam’s comments.