The Way We Were (6 page)

Ben woke up and jumped out of bed. He threw back the thick curtains and looked out at the blue sky. He felt filled with energy. This trip had been like a shot of adrenalin in the arm. He was his old self, full of vigour and optimism, ready to take on the world.

So far Declan had been a great travel companion and colleague. He was enthusiastic, lively and knew his stuff. Ben was confident that he would be an asset in theatre when they operated.

The consultation with the minister had gone well. Ben had explained the transverse colectomy procedure to him and his wife. He had shown Negasi Kidane where he would make the cut in his abdomen to remove the middle part of the colon containing the tumour. He would also be taking out the lymph glands closest to the bowel, to check if any cancer cells had spread there, he said, then described how he would join the ends of the colon back together.

The minister seemed happy with the information and keen to get the operation over with. It was due to take place at nine o’clock on Saturday morning, which left today, Friday, free. Today Ben and Declan were going to a clinic outside Asmara, where Declan and John Lester had been on their last trip, to help train some local surgeons.

Ben was looking forward to it. Declan had organized a car
and was going to drive. He said it was about an hour outside the city.

Ben looked at his watch. It was only eight. They weren’t due to leave until ten. He showered, then decided to go for a walk and grab breakfast at a café instead of in the hotel. He wanted to soak up some local atmosphere. He wandered down the palm-lined main street, Independence Avenue, watching the cafés setting up their tables and getting ready for the day ahead. He walked on to the old town square, where the imposing post-office building dominated everything. Ben’s guidebook told him that Asmara had been colonized by Italy at the end of the nineteenth century and remained so until the Second World War. He could see the signs of Italian influence everywhere.

Apart from the architecture, there were lots of old Fiats parked on the roads. But most people in Asmara seemed to cycle. According to Declan, some of the surgeons in Eritrea only earned two dollars a day. He said the surgeons were very well educated but too bookish and had very little clinical focus, which was why John Lester had decided to help train them.

Ben wandered around for a while, then went to find the Casa degli Italiani, which the minister’s wife had recommended. He walked through the imposing stone-pillared entrance onto a pretty terrace. Sitting there, sipping his coffee, he felt lighter than he had in ages.

He thought about Alice and the girls, doing the usual morning things at home, getting ready for school and work. He missed them, and feel guilty about Jools’s birthday, but he was still glad to be out of that routine for a few days, to be in a new place, having new experiences. Would he be able to hold on to his energy and positivity once he was back in London? He wasn’t sure. But things needed to change, he knew that now. He couldn’t go back to living that humdrum life.
He would have to talk to Alice, explain to her how he was feeling, and between them they’d find a way to make their lives more meaningful and fulfilling. The girls were moving into new phases now, and it was time he and Alice did, too. He made himself a promise, sitting there in the sunshine, to try to be less distracted and spend more time at home when he got back, but also to have his own sense of purpose. If he could get Alice on-side, he knew they could have it all.

Ben glanced at his watch. Time to go. He paid the bill and headed back to the hotel. On his way he passed a jewellery shop. He glanced at the window and saw a gold necklace with the initial A on it. He decided to buy it for Alice. But when he went into the shop, he decided to buy three. Each necklace had an initial – A, J and H, one for each of the women in his life. The girls would be thrilled, and he hoped Alice would be too. He’d surprise them when he got home. Ben left the shop, delighted with his purchases.

Once back in the hotel, Ben tried to call home again, but his mobile still wouldn’t work. He was about to ring Alice from the hotel phone when Declan knocked on his door and said they needed to get going. It would be best to call later anyway, when the girls were home from school.

Ben put the necklaces on his bed and grabbed a small backpack with a digital camera, wallet, laptop, mobile phone and his passport. He followed Declan down to the car.

The vehicle Declan had sourced was a very old, very battered Fiat, which he proceeded to drive like a maniac.

‘Christ, where did you learn to drive?’ Ben asked, clinging to the ceiling grab handle.

Declan grinned. ‘My older brother taught me. He’s a total nutter – he’s written off four cars.’

‘That’s very reassuring,’ Ben said. ‘Don’t you have to do driving tests in Ireland?’

‘Technically, yes, but my uncle Tommy is one of the examiners, so I passed even though my three-point turn took about ten minutes and I knocked down a fella on a bike when I was coming out of the driving centre.’ Declan roared with laughter.

‘Perhaps I should drive?’ Ben suggested, as Declan swerved to avoid knocking down yet another innocent cyclist.

Declan shook his head. ‘Just relax. I’ll get you there safely. I’ve never crashed.’

‘Really?’ Ben was shocked.

Declan lit a cigarette as he narrowly avoided an oncoming car. ‘Well, not officially.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means I may have had a few bumps along the way, but not exactly owned up to them.’

‘You mean you crashed and drove away?’

‘In a way, yes.’

‘But that’s … completely … just … well, wrong.’ Ben was taken aback.

‘Keep your hair on, Ben. Where I grew up in Dublin rules weren’t always obeyed.’

‘What part of Dublin are you from? I’ve been there lots of times with my wife Alice – she grew up just outside the city.’

Declan flicked his cigarette out of the window. ‘I doubt you ever went to my neighbourhood. I grew up in Ballymun. Six kids, three-bedroom flat, single dad.’

‘What happened to your mother?’ Ben asked.

‘She fecked off with a Polish plumber and we never saw her again. My dad can’t hear Poland mentioned without flying into a mad rage. He was disgusted when the European
Football Cup was held there. He even refused to watch the Irish team matches and he loves his football.’

‘Gosh, I’m sorry to hear that. Did you ever hear from your mother again?’

‘No. My sister Carol tracked her down when she was eighteen. She saved up for ages and we all gave her a few quid so she could fly to Poland. We told her she was mad, but she’s an only girl and she really missed having a mother. When she got to my mother’s house after travelling for thirteen hours, my mother opened the door, told her to feck off and slammed it shut in her face.’

‘Your poor sister!’

‘You don’t know our Carol. Instead of falling down crying, she got a big rock and flung it through the front window where my mother’s boyfriend was sitting watching telly. It nearly hit him too.’

Ben laughed. ‘What did your mother do?’

Declan lit another cigarette. ‘She came running out and shouted at Carol. But what she forgot was that Carol had sixteen years of pent-up anger and resentment rattling about inside her. So Carol walloped her across the face, told her she was a waste of space and left. The poor girl came back gutted, so we had a “funeral” to cheer her up. My brother Eddie made up a little coffin and we put our mother’s photos into it and burnt it in the kitchen sink. Then we drank a load of booze and said, “Good riddance to the old hag.” Carol felt better after that. Dad was thrilled that we all now knew what a complete cow our mother was.’

Ben was almost speechless. Declan’s family sounded completely insane and yet there was something very touching about the way they had rallied around their sister. ‘Did it help?’ he asked.

‘I think so. Carol hasn’t mentioned her since.’

‘How old were you when your mother left?’

‘Four.’

‘God, that’s young. It must have been hard.’

Declan shrugged. ‘I don’t remember her at all. You can’t miss what you don’t recall. I think it was worse for Eddie. He was nine so he did remember. He went a bit mental when he was a teenager – mitching off school and shop-lifting and a bit of drugs, but Dad sorted him out. Dad’s great. Raising five boys and a girl on your own with very little money isn’t easy, but he did a good job.’

‘He must be very proud of you,’ Ben said.

‘To be honest, he thinks it’s mad that I’ve had to study for so long and still earn so little. I keep telling him that one day I’ll be loaded. He’s proud of all of us for keeping on the straight and narrow. We’ve all turned out grand. I’m nothing special.’

‘John Lester rates you and he’s a tough judge.’

‘I enjoy it. I think growing up in a bad area actually helps. I don’t get stressed easily and pressure doesn’t bother me. When you grow up dodging drug-dealers and gangsters, surgery doesn’t seem so daunting.’

Ben clung to the door handle as Declan swerved to avoid a woman on a donkey. They were going up into the mountains now and the road was a lot rougher. The car jerked about as Declan tried to avoid rocks and potholes.

‘What about you? Where did you grow up?’ Declan asked.

‘London. My life has been very boring compared to yours. I’m an only child, went to a local school and then on to King’s College to study medicine.’

‘So you never really left London?’ Declan asked.

‘No, I didn’t. I’d planned to go to America to do a couple of years there, but then I met Alice, married her and had children.’

‘What have you got?’

‘Two girls.’

‘What age?’

‘Jools turned sixteen today and Holly is eleven.’

‘Teenage years!’

Ben chuckled. ‘To be honest, Jools has been like a teenager since she was about eight.’

‘Girls seem like a world of trouble. I hope I have boys – I know what to do with boys – but girls … They just wreck your head.’

Ben smiled. ‘True, but they’re also absolutely wonderful.’

‘I can see you’re smitten.’

‘I take it you’re not married yet.’

‘No. I’m keeping it casual for the moment. I need to focus on work. I did have one serious girlfriend, but when she introduced me to her parents it didn’t go too well. I wasn’t quite … What shall we say? Son-in-law material. They were very posh and they kept talking about point-to-points. I thought they were on about trains and that they were train-spotters or something, so I told them how me and my brother Jason used to stand on the end of the platform and moon at the carriages as the trains pulled out.’

Ben imagined the faces of the ‘posh’ parents when they heard that story. ‘I take it that didn’t endear you to them.’ He grinned at Declan.

Declan whooped. ‘You can say that again. My leg was black and blue from Gwen kicking me under the table to shut me up. I knew after that weekend it was over. I’d never fit in. Pity, she was a lovely girl, but as my dad always said, there are plenty more fish in the sea. Mind you, he never got together with anyone after my mother left. Always said he was too busy working and raising us. I’d like him to meet someone. It’d be nice for him now we’ve all left home. The
good thing is that all my brothers and Carol live near him and there are loads of grandkids, so he’s hardly ever alone.’

‘My mother died nineteen years ago. My father met someone else just a few years ago.’

‘Do you like her?’ Declan asked.

Ben thought about it. Did he like Helen? She was pleasant but cold. Ben’s mother had been warm, loving, and had doted on him. She’d wanted more children, but Ben’s birth had been complicated and she’d ended up having a hysterectomy.

Ben remembered how his mother’s eyes had lit up when he walked into a room. Sometimes as a teenager it had been a little claustrophobic and he had felt smothered, but he’d known she couldn’t help it. She had so much love to give and only one child to give it to. He was twenty-six when she received a diagnosis of ovarian cancer. Ten weeks later she was dead.

Ben had simply disappeared into studying and working while his father – a stalwart of the stiff-upper-lip generation – pretended everything was fine. Alice had been there to comfort Ben and she’d been wonderful. With Alice, he could cry and talk about how much he missed his mother.

Ben, in his naïveté, thought his father was actually fine. Until one day he’d come back early from the hospital. They’d sent him home after he’d cut his hand open with a scalpel. When he’d opened the front door, he’d heard a noise coming from the kitchen. He’d gone in through the open door and had seen his father sitting at the table, sobbing over his wedding photos.

Ben had never seen his father cry, not even at his mother’s funeral. Everyone kept saying how brave Harold was, how strong. They said it was his army background. He had fought in the Falklands war and been awarded a medal for bravery.
Ben always thought his father was invincible. He knew his father loved him, but he had never been demonstrative. Like so many sons and fathers, there was a physical awkwardness between them.

The sound of his father’s sobs ripped through Ben’s heart. He froze. He didn’t know what to do. Should he tiptoe by and leave him to grieve in peace, or should he go over and put an arm around him?

Taking a deep breath, Ben said, ‘Dad?’

Harold’s back went rigid. Ben approached his father tentatively and laid a hand on his shoulder. Looking at the photos, he said softly, ‘I miss her too.’

His father nodded stiffly. He stood up, shrugging Ben’s hand off, and wiped his eyes roughly, then packed away the photos. Still not facing his son, he said, ‘Well, that’s enough of that. I was tidying up and … well … there you are. Right, I’ll just put them away.’ He’d brushed past Ben and the moment was lost.

That was probably the closest they’d got to grieving together. One of the things Ben loved most about Alice was her freedom with her emotions. She didn’t hide them or keep them in, she let them out. When something moved her, she cried, not like a Disney princess but in a loud, werewolf kind of way.