Never Say Goodbye (52 page)

Was she a non-believer? It was hard to say when she hadn’t given it much thought before. She supposed on some level she must think there was something, or why would she have got married and had the kids christened in this very church? It was a different vicar now to when she and Jeff had walked down the aisle, and to when Lily and Ryan had been baptised. They didn’t seem to stay very long at St Mark’s, which was surprising when it was such a lovely spot – and there was no shortage of sinners down on the estate, so plenty of outreach opportunities for a man or woman of the cloth.

Easily able to imagine the short shrift the likes of Debbie Prince would give anyone seeking to save their souls, she sighed quietly to herself, and tried to unravel the tangled thoughts in her mind. Some were in the past, caught up in her children’s births, and precious moments along the way: small fingers making daisy chains, beach rides on donkeys, bluebell and blackberry picking, presents at Christmas, guinea-pig grooming, shoulder rides at school fetes, chubby arms and smiling faces bringing more happiness into her world than she could ever have believed possible.

Other thoughts were turning to the future, only to vanish into the empty space where she would no longer be: the living-room chair she’d always sat in; the side of the bed she usually slept; the kitchen where she’d cleaned, cooked, had cuddles with Jeff and the children; their table at the karaoke bar; the visitors’ room at the prison. She wouldn’t be in those places any more; Jeff, Lily, Ryan would carry on alone. Would she be able to watch, from wherever she was, when Jeff lifted their first grandchild in his arms? Would he feel her presence, and think of how happy this moment would have made her? Would her arms long to hold the baby too? Would she know when Ryan was set free? Would she be able to do anything at all to help him on his way? They’d all be going forward into the future, those she loved and who loved her, and her heart ached to think of how much of their lives she was going to miss, and of how they would miss her.

If you are out there God,
she said in her mind,
and you know what’s happening, I have to ask why you chose me. I know you won’t answer, but I’m wondering it anyway, when I’m such an ordinary person with not a lot going for her, so why on earth would you want me over there? It’s not going to serve much of a purpose for anyone, as far as I can see, whereas if you let me stay here I could carry on being the best mother and wife I’m able to be, and granny too one of these days. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not feeling sorry for myself, well, I suppose I am in a way, but I understand it’s far worse for those who’ve got small children. I’ve never been able to work out why you have to take them. At least I’ve seen my two grow up, which I’m very thankful for, but there’s still so much I can do for them, and it’s making me feel terrible to think of them trying to go on without me. I don’t think it’ll be easy for Jeff either . . .
Tears welled in her eyes as she pictured him coming home to an empty house at the end of the day, wanting with all his heart to find her there, while knowing this would never happen.

She wondered what he was doing now. If Lily hadn’t come with them to the hospital today she’d never have left him alone to deal with the news, or with the letter that had arrived from the council telling them they had to move so a family could have their house. Jeff’s temper had flared, rightly so since they’d paid the bedroom tax. They really hadn’t needed this cock-up today. Lily had taken charge, saying she’d sort it out, and because she’d needed to get away from them for a while, Josie hadn’t argued. Later, once she’d had some time to come to terms with the cancer being in her brain, she’d be stronger and able to take on the council, or social services, or whoever else gave them grief. She’d also have it in her to show Jeff and Lily how important it was to make the most of the time they had left together.

Oh God
, she cried silently,
how am I going to get through this without letting them see how afraid I am to leave them? I don’t want them to have to witness what this disease is going to do to me. I don’t even know if I have the courage to face it, except what choice do I have? I feel so alone, and yet that’s how we all are really, alone, so it’s not just me. Thank you for sending Chaplain Paul to Ryan, I know he’s going to be a big comfort to him in the weeks and months ahead. I wish you’d find a way to let him come home before I go. I think it would be easier for us both if we could be together for a while before the time comes.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and turned her watery eyes to the sky.
I don’t know if you’re listening, or if you even care, but I’m talking to you anyway, because there isn’t anyone else I’d want to burden with all this cowardliness I’m feeling, and anger, and fear that I’m not going to know my family by the end.

Though she wasn’t expecting a sign to say she’d been heard, she still felt let down, abandoned even, when nothing changed in the sky, or the sea, or anywhere around her. The world, God, the whole universe appeared impervious to her plight. She watched a rabbit hop between the gravestones, and a butterfly flit around a colourful cluster of verbena. Everything seemed so beautiful, vital and special in a way she’d never taken the time to notice before.

As a shadow fell over her she looked up, half expecting it to be the vicar, but her heart gave a leap of gladness when she saw it was Bel. She tried to blink back her tears, but Bel was crying too, and as she sat down with her and took her in her arms Josie started to sob.

Minutes ticked by as they held one another, and Josie felt Bel’s strength stealing into her heart.

‘I’m sorry,’ Bel whispered, smoothing Josie’s newly formed curls. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

‘It’s me who should be sorry,’ Josie told her, ‘putting you through all this.’

‘Oh Josie, please don’t think about me,’ Bel cried, hugging her tighter, ‘you’re the only one who matters now.’

Josie sat back, attempting to dry her eyes. ‘That’s not true,’ she said, ‘you matter too, and I’m worried about you. I want you to be happy, Bel, and all I’m doing is bringing you more sadness.’

‘You make me happy too,’ Bel insisted. ‘Knowing you is the best thing that’s happened to me in a very long time.’

Josie smiled through her tears. ‘I can’t believe that,’ she chided, ‘but I certainly don’t know where I’d be without you. You’ve been my rock in so many ways, and here you are now, letting me lean on you again when surely to God you’ve had enough of trying to be strong for . . .’

‘Sssh,’ Bel whispered, putting a finger over Josie’s lips. ‘You’ve been my rock too, and there’s still a way to go yet. We’re going to carry on being there for each other right up until you don’t need me any more.’

‘Oh Bel, you can’t go through it . . .’

‘Yes I can. I’m not letting you push me away, so please don’t try.’

More tears flowed down Josie’s cheeks. ‘If I believed in God,’ she said brokenly, ‘I might think he’d sent me an angel when he sent me you.’

Bel smiled. ‘My mother used to say that we’re all angels in our way, just not for everyone, and not always for long. And do you know what I think? I think you’re my angel, because knowing you, going through this with you is forcing me to face up to things that I was afraid to when I went through it with Talia.’

Josie gazed at her anxiously. ‘I want to help you,’ she said softly. ‘Whatever happened before . . .’

‘You have enough to worry about.’

‘I’d like not to have to think about it,’ Josie admitted wryly, knowing there would probably come a time when it was impossible to think about anything else, if indeed she was even capable of thinking by then. ‘You’re saying I’m some sort of catalyst for you, but I think Harry was that too.’

Bel didn’t disagree. ‘It seems the way forward for me is learning to let go, and I’m afraid I’m still not very good at it.’

Josie’s eyes were searching hers. ‘Have you heard from him?’ she asked.

Bel shook her head. ‘But don’t let’s talk about that now. We have more important matters . . .’

‘But this is important, to me as well as to you. I know I’m not all that knowledgeable about things, but it seems to me that releasing yourself from whatever happened in the past would be a good way to start dealing with the future.’

Bel took a breath as she gazed into Josie’s eyes. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I’m not letting you do this . . .’

‘You don’t have to tell me what it was,’ Josie interrupted softly, ‘but it might help if you talked to someone.’

Bel’s expression seemed to dull as she turned towards the horizon. ‘I think it would,’ she agreed, ‘but not today, Josie. I can’t let you make today about me.’

‘But don’t you understand, helping you would be the best thing I could do right now, because I don’t want to talk about me. I realise that sounds like I’m going into denial, but reality’s going to catch up with me soon enough and there’ll be plenty of time then to feel scared and sorry for myself, and all the other things that go with being where I am. You know better than I do about most of it, so let’s leave it until it can’t be avoided and take the advice you’re always giving me to deal with the here and now.’

Bel said nothing, but Josie could sense how torn she was.

‘Why don’t you start by telling me about your mother?’ she suggested. ‘I can tell by the way you talk about her that you loved her very much, but you say so little.’

Bel’s head went down, and for several moments it seemed she was going to say nothing at all. ‘It’s actually very simple really,’ she said in the end, ‘she died because of me and I know I’m never going to forgive myself.’

Reaching for her hands, Josie said, ‘Why are you blaming yourself? What happened to make you think it was your fault?’

Bel’s smile was faint. ‘I don’t think, I
know
it was my fault,’ she replied. ‘My father’s too, but he doesn’t seem to carry the burden of guilt in quite the same way.’

Having already guessed there was something terrible in the past concerning her father, Josie said, very gently, ‘What did he do?’

Bel’s eyes turned cold as she looked back towards the past. ‘What didn’t he do?’ She took a breath and released it so slowly it was as though she was afraid to let it go. ‘It started when Talia and I were eight,’ she began, ‘and it never stopped.’ Her eyes went to Josie. ‘I expect you know what I’m talking about?’

Josie nodded, though God knew she wished she was wrong.

‘It was like we were his property in every imaginable way,’ Bel continued, using the chill of her tone to separate her from the pain of the memory. ‘Not just his daughters, his muses, his pride and joy, we became . . .’ She shook her head abruptly. ‘You won’t want the details, no one would. Suffice it to say we were terrified of him, but he was never put off by our pleas for mercy. If anything they seemed to excite him, so we learned over time to accept what he was doing, to show no emotion at all, but he never stopped. If our mother hadn’t loved him so much in spite of how brutal he could be with her, we’d have spoken out, but we were afraid of what he might do to her if she knew the truth, and what he might do to us. His tempers were violent, uncontrolled, he often beat my mother, but it didn’t seem to make a difference to how she felt. She called it his artistic temperament. So we kept the abuse to ourselves, carried on suffering it right up until we were sixteen and about to go to college. This was when we decided we would never see him again. Talia didn’t want to tell Mummy the reason, but I couldn’t see how it was possible not to. I guess a part of me was angry with her for not knowing what he’d been doing for so long, or at least not acknowledging it. So I told her about it in detail, made her accept it was true, and three weeks later she killed herself.’

‘Oh Bel,’ Josie gasped, clutching Bel’s hands. ‘Oh my God, what a terrible thing for her to do. How could she? Oh Bel, I understand now why this has been so hard for you, but it wasn’t your fault. Please, you have to see that.’

‘If I hadn’t told her, she’d still be here,’ Bel stated, as if there was no other way of seeing it.

‘But you had to tell her. How else were you going to explain not seeing your father again?’

Bel only shook her head.

‘Bel, please, you have to listen to me,’ Josie said urgently. ‘I know you loved your mother, but what she did was wicked. She was only thinking about herself, not about her girls, and you should have come first. So she’s the one to blame, not you. And your father for the terrible things he did. If it weren’t for him there would never have been anything to tell your mother.’

‘I know you’re right, but it doesn’t make the guilt go away. It’s because of me that she couldn’t face carrying on, that Talia lost her mother . . .’

‘No,
not
because of you, because of your father, and because she couldn’t cope with her own guilt for not realising it was happening. Did Talia blame you?’

‘Maybe, at first, I’m not sure, but eventually she was able to handle it much better than I was. Meeting Nick made all the difference. He helped her to overcome her fears, and to understand what love was really about.’ Her head went down. ‘She never suffered from the kind of guilt I do. There was no reason for her to, when she hadn’t even wanted to tell our mother what was happening.’

Feeling for the terrible burden she was carrying, Josie said, ‘Did your mother leave a note?’ Surely to God the woman had left her daughters something to help them forgive her actions, perhaps even, to a degree, understand them.

‘Yes, she did,’ Bel answered, ‘but all it said was,
Just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not there. I love you my darlings, and I’m sorry
.’

Unable to imagine how devastating it must have been to have read those few short words, Josie put a hand to Bel’s cheek. ‘If I know anything at all,’ she said softly, ‘I know she wouldn’t want you to torment yourself the way you do.’

Bel swallowed hard. ‘Maybe not,’ she conceded, ‘but she never talks to me. Talia does, all the time . . . Obviously, I know it’s my subconscious speaking, or my conscience, whichever is in charge that day, but I’ve never been able to connect with my mother the way I do with Talia. It’s like she’s holding back from me, perhaps even punishing me for telling her the worst imaginable thing for her to know.’