The Dead Wife's Handbook (27 page)

Chapter 19

It’s been hours. Long, painful, interminable hours. Hours of worry and anxiety, of frantic plea bargaining with something or someone I’m not sure I even believe in, let alone can see or hear or confirm actually exists.

I’ve still no news yet. I’m not sure there’s anything worse than waiting for potentially bad news alone, is there? This suspension of time, this absence of knowledge, this anxious isolation are all far less bearable than any physical pain I’ve ever known, even that which brought me here in the first place.

I don’t think my inscrutable, white world has ever felt so stark before. Or so severe. Or so solitary. It’s never felt so vast, so empty, so far from everyone I know and love. They’re an eternity away and although I’ve known, deep down, since I arrived that what separates us is not just the unpredictable white mist clouding my view, but the division between the active and the passive, between the living and the netherworld, between life and death, it’s only now that I really feel it – painfully, viscerally – as though the knowledge has seared itself on to my broken heart and is burning through whatever solace, whatever consolation, whatever misguided sense of involvement I had left.

Right now, I’m not sure I even trust that I’ll ever be able to see them again.

I keep picturing Ellie on top of that climber, the moment of her fall reduced to super-slow motion, every individual frame a horror story in its own right, every sequence taunting me for my failure to have intervened, to have stopped her, to have saved her. Every second a cruel reminder of my impotence.

What’s the point of a place in this netherworld if it doesn’t come complete with the powers of a guardian angel? If I can’t prevent tragedy? If I can’t do a single thing to protect my little girl from harm?

Please let her be okay. Please. I’ll never ask for anything again. I promise.

Something flutters beneath me and, not for first time during recent hours, I allow my hopes to be raised that perhaps this is it, perhaps the clouds are going to clear, perhaps I’m going to be allowed to see her, to see how she is.

I strain my eyes, determined to focus on what lies beneath, to pierce my way through the white mist, to bring the world into view through sheer force of will and desperation and maternal tenacity, to find my way back to the daughter who needs me.

And for once the clouds comply and I’m there, I’m back, only the place I’ve arrived is the last place I’d hoped to find her. I’m in a cubicle, a hospital cubicle where Max and Eve are sitting on chairs next to a bed on which my baby girl is lying with her arm in a sling and a face almost as pale as the austere white sheets underneath her.

‘How’s your arm feeling now, angel?’

‘A bit sore still, especially if I try and move it.’

‘Well, you know what the answer to that is, then? Just don’t move it! I’m sure it’s going to feel a lot better in the
morning, sweetheart. We’re lucky it was only a little sprain and a very minor concussion. I was convinced there for a second, when you were out cold, that something much worse had happened. As that nice doctor said, you’re a very lucky girl not to have done more serious damage. Honestly, I don’t know what you were thinking, going up to the top of such a big climbing frame.’

Only a sprain and very minor concussion. Thank god. Thank whoever or whatever needs thanking. The relief is exquisite and I want to savour it.

But she’d been out cold, my little angel. She’d been lying there, on the ground, motionless. Poor Max. I can only imagine the anguish he must have being going through.

‘I’m sorry, Daddy.’

Max strokes Ellie’s forehead and kisses each of her unslung fingers in turn.

‘There’s nothing at all to be sorry for, sweetheart. I’m just so relieved you’re okay. You gave us such a fright there, munchkin. When I think about how far you fell …’

Max’s unfinished sentence trails off into a parallel world of possibilities none of us dare to articulate. There’s an unsteadiness in his voice to accompany the film of salt water that he manages to blink away before Ellie has a chance to notice. I catch Eve watching him, though, and wonder whether any woman could help but fall for a man who weeps for the fate that chose not to befall his daughter today.

‘When can we go home, Daddy? It’s really boring here.’

‘Hospitals are always boring, I’m afraid, angel. We can leave just as soon as the doctor comes and gives you the all-clear. It shouldn’t be too long now.’

Max smiles apologetically at Eve. I can’t imagine this was how either of them wanted to spend their inaugural outing together. Ellie notices their silent exchange and I watch her face shift emotional season from boredom to angst.

‘Daddy, are you cross with me?’

Ellie’s voice is hesitant as though not quite convinced it was ready to come out of hiding.

‘Why on earth would anyone be cross with you, angel?’

Ellie hangs her head, whether through embarrassment or fear or guilt it’s impossible to tell.

‘For climbing up too high and falling off and ruining the day.’

Max holds her hand and smiles at her questioningly as though unsure what’s provoked this momentary anxiety.

‘Don’t be silly, sweetheart. Of course we’re not cross with you. It was a nasty accident and no one blames you at all. We were just worried about you, that’s all. But you’re going to be just fine, aren’t you?’

Ellie nods her head haltingly, seemingly unconvinced by Max’s reassurance.

‘You promise you’re not angry?’

Max smiles at her with that patient, gentle, paternal smile reserved exclusively for Ellie.

‘Shall I tell you something, sweetheart? It’s something Mummy used to say after you were born. She said that when you have a child, all of your priorities shift, so that instead of worrying about yourself any more, you spend all your time worrying about this little person instead. And it’s amazing how one little person – like you – can totally take over your whole universe. But you did and you
still do. Because as soon as Mummy and I became parents, what we wanted most in the world is for you to be happy and healthy and safe. So if anything bad happens to you, whatever it is, whatever the cause, the only thing I care about is that you get better and that you’re okay. Do you understand?’

Ellie gazes at Max intently before her face breaks into a tentative smile, as if perhaps only partially understanding Max’s explanation but seemingly in possession of the comfort she was seeking.

‘Ellie, what do you think about me going in search of some chocolate? I think we’re all probably in need of a sugar hit. That’s okay, isn’t it, Max?’

Max nods and smiles in assent, and Eve slips behind the patterned blue polyester curtain, leaving Max and Ellie alone for the first time today that I’ve seen.

Max looks over his shoulder, as if checking the coast is clear.

‘So, what do you think of Eve, then? I know it’s been a strange day but earlier, before your accident, we were having a nice time, weren’t we?’

Ellie looks contemplative, as though remembering afresh events from just a few hours ago that she’d already persuaded herself to forget.

‘She’s okay.’

The disappointment is legible on Max’s face.

‘But she’s been really kind to you, hasn’t she? When she sat with you in the back of the car on the way here – she looked after you really nicely then, didn’t she?’

I’m not sure what’s more uncomfortable: to witness Max’s desperation that Ellie afford Eve some approbation
or to imagine Eve cradling my little girl in her arms en route to the hospital.

‘I suppose so.’

‘And she’s been fun while we’ve been stuck here, hasn’t she? Telling us all those funny stories about some of the naughty things students at her school have done.’

Ellie nods impassively.

‘Daddy? Will Eve always come with us on days out now?’

Max looks slightly surprised, as though the thought hadn’t even occurred to him.

‘Of course not, sweetheart. I just wanted you to meet her, that’s all. I mean, it would be nice if sometimes we invited her to do things with us, don’t you think? Because I’d enjoy it and I think she’d enjoy it too. She really likes you, Ellie. She told me earlier. She said you were adorable – her words, not mine.’

Ellie smiles shyly but I think it’s going to take more than a single compliment to win her over.

‘I was thinking actually, munchkin, whether we might ask Eve if she wants to come to your birthday party?’

Max looks suitably ambivalent about whether or not this is a good idea. I can’t believe he’s even suggesting it. Not so soon, not right now, not after all that’s happened today.

‘But she won’t know anyone.’

‘That’s true. She could get to know people, though, couldn’t she? There are lots of nice people coming, aren’t there?’

Ellie withdraws into a temporary introspection. I wish I could let her know that she’s allowed to feel wary about this, that she doesn’t have to agree if she doesn’t want to,
that Max is still going to love her even if she doesn’t want his new girlfriend gatecrashing her birthday party.

‘But, Daddy, you said we already had a full house for my birthday party and that’s why I was only allowed to invite ten friends.’

There’s a mischievous sparkle in Ellie’s eyes, discernible only to those who’ve seen it before. Max tightens his lips to hold back the knowing smile.

‘You’re right, Ellie, I did. Ten friends is quite a lot, isn’t it?’

‘But if you’re allowed to have an extra friend to my party then shouldn’t I be allowed an extra friend too?’

Ellie looks up at Max, her dark eyes wide with faux-innocence. Max meets her gaze with mock seriousness, befitting the negotiations at play.

‘Okay, Ellie. That seems fair to me. If Eve comes to your party then you can bring another friend too. Who will you invite?’

Ellie’s eyes narrow with contemplation.

‘Well, the thing is, I want to invite Lottie but I want to invite Emily too. And ’cos they’re best friends they’ll be sad if they can’t both come.’

Max is smiling now, complicit in just how deftly he’s being wound around our little girl’s finger.

‘So what do you suggest then, munchkin?’

‘Well, you always tell me it’s important to play nicely at school and not leave people out. So really I think I should invite Lottie and Emily. Just to be fair.’

Max can’t hold back the laughter any longer.

‘You drive a hard bargain, Ellie Myerson, but you have yourself a deal. Lottie and Emily and Eve are now all duly
invited to your birthday party. I just hope we can find a cake big enough for all those guests.’

I can’t believe it. Of all the people in the world, Eve’s the last person who should be going to Ellie’s birthday party. Even I wasn’t allowed to be there last year. I don’t know how I’m going to cope if the same thing happens this year, if my access doesn’t materialize that day, if I know that Eve is sharing my daughter’s birthday with her while I’m not even allowed to view it silently from afar.

Ellie celebrates her triumph by sliding off the bed and hugging Max with the one working arm still at her shrewd disposal. As she does so, the blue curtain is pulled back and Eve reappears, bumper-sized block of Dairy Milk in hand and a young female doctor in tow.

‘Now, young lady, I don’t remember saying you were ready to get out of bed yet, did I? And you know you have to follow the doctor’s orders when you’re in here, don’t you?’

Ellie giggles sheepishly and clambers back on to the starched white linen with Max’s help.

‘Well, I think you’re all good to go, if you can bear to leave us. Mum and Dad, I suggest an early night and just keep an eye on her for twenty-four hours. Any signs of nausea or dizziness – and certainly if she vomits at all – bring her straight back in. Other than that, Ellie, I suggest you give climbing frames a wide berth for a little while.’

Mum and Dad. An easy enough mistake to make. But not such an easy one to witness.

And not, it seems, one that’s raised so much as a flushed cheek on the faces of either my husband or his new girlfriend. Not even Ellie bothers to contradict her.

As the doctor exits the cubicle, sweeping the curtain closed behind her, my access disappears instantaneously, without so much as the lightest fluctuation of air to warn me that my time here today is up.

It’s been a torturous few hours, in so many ways, and although I’m unspeakably grateful for the chance to find out that my little girl’s okay, I also can’t help feeling relieved that the day is finally over.

Chapter 20

‘Come on, munchkin. Let’s get you up to bed.’

I’m in the hallway of my house, where Max, Eve and Ellie are walking through the front door, all three of them in the same clothes I left them in earlier, Ellie’s arm still in a sling and the darkness outside telling me that we’ve entered the day’s final chapter.

Three times in one day. It’s unprecedented.

‘Awww, can’t I stay up for a bit? It’s not even that late.’

‘Not tonight, sweetheart, sorry. It’s already past your bedtime and you need to get some rest after the adventurous day you’ve had.’

‘But the doctor said you had to keep an eye on me and you can’t do that if I’m in bed. Can’t I stay up just a little bit longer? I’m not even tired.’

‘You’re over-tired, angel. That’s why we need to get you to bed. Say goodnight to Eve and I’ll come up with you and tuck you in.’

Ellie exudes a theatrical sigh and says a cursory good-night to Eve. As Max accompanies her up the stairs I see him turn back and shrug his shoulders apologetically at Eve, although I can’t be sure whether he’s apologizing for Ellie’s behaviour or for the temporary interruption to their evening.

As Max pushes Ellie gently up to her room, I loiter downstairs with Eve, watching her as she wanders around
my former sitting room, surveying what’s on display. I wonder how many times she’s been here before and what she makes of my former home, with its photographic shrine to a life she’s never been part of. There’s a framed picture of Max and me on our wedding day and another of the two of us in a safari jeep on honeymoon; there’s the three of us in hospital the day Ellie was born, and again huddling around her cake at her first birthday party; there are large framed montages of our holiday in Italy and another one from Greece. There’s noticeably little space left for any new additions.