The Universe Versus Alex Woods (29 page)

‘She’s been an extremely productive cat,’ my mother observed. ‘She’s been averaging . . . how many, Lex?’

‘I’m trying to read,’ I said. I had no desire to get drawn into another insane dialogue with my mother.

‘He worked it out last time, didn’t you? Something like three point seven kittens per litter, wasn’t it, Lex? Although she only had two last time – both boys. But then, she’s not a young cat any more. She’s still doing very well, really. It’ll be interesting to see how many she manages this time.’

‘Maybe we should run a sweepstake?’ Ellie suggested.

‘You should probably get her spayed,’ I said.

My mother looked at Ellie and shrugged. Ellie rolled her eyes. ‘Lex, you know how I feel about that. I don’t think we should be the ones who decide whether Lucy has kittens or not. She’ll stop when she’s ready.’

‘But what’s the point?’ I asked. ‘You never let her keep them. You seem perfectly happy to make
that
decision for her. Maybe if you let her keep her kittens, she’d stop breeding.’

My mother ignored me and directed her response to Ellie. ‘Perhaps you’d like one, Ellie? I think one cat’s quite enough for us right now. Taking care of kittens and young cats requires quite a time commitment. And despite what Lex says, I think Lucy tends to lose interest in the maternal role after about eight weeks. That’s often the way with cats. Mostly they’re very independent creatures.’

‘Maybe she loses interest because she knows what’s coming,’ I said. ‘Your whole approach to that cat’s completely inconsistent. Actually, it’s worse than that. It’s cruel.’

My mother looked at me for a few seconds without saying anything, then turned away. ‘Ellie, I think some fresh air might be a good idea. Why don’t you and Lex go up to the well and get some water for the cooler. It’s looking a little empty. Take both of the five-litre bottles. That should keep us going for a while.’

If I haven’t mentioned it already, my mother
only
drinks Glastonbury well water. She even uses it to make herbal tea.

Ellie did not look amused. She exhaled demonstratively, to show us all and especially me how patient she was being, and what kind of effort it was costing her. ‘Fine. Ten litres of well water coming up. Where are your car keys?’

‘I want you to walk, Ellie,’ my mother said. ‘Just because you can drive now doesn’t mean you have
to. A bit of exercise won’t do either one of you any harm.’

Ellie glared (at me, as if this absurd outing had been my idea). ‘Walk? You want us to
walk
to the well? There and back?’

My mother nodded patiently. ‘What did you think I meant by “fresh air”?’

‘I thought it was just a figure of speech!’

‘It wasn’t. I want you to walk. Take your time. Enjoy yourselves. It’s a nice day.’

‘It won’t feel so nice on the way back. You do realize how much ten litres of water weighs, don’t you, Rowena? It’s got to weigh about a ton!’

‘For God’s sake, Ellie!’ I interjected. ‘Ten kilograms! It’s not difficult. Ten litres of water weighs ten kilograms.’

‘Alex, shut up! This is
not
the time for maths! You’re not helping.’

‘And you’re wasting your time. She’s not going to change her mind.’

‘No,’ agreed my mother, ‘she’s not. You’re both young and healthy. I’m sure you can manage it between you.’

Ellie glared at me again, then threw her hands in the air and thrust her jaw at the door to the stockroom. I had the feeling that I was going to be doing most of the carrying.

As soon as we were outside, Ellie lit a cigarette and exhaled an angry jet of smoke. Smoking outside was as close to fresh air as Ellie ever came. ‘You know this is
your
fault,’ she told me. ‘You were pretty fucking rude back there. There was absolutely no need for it.’

I ignored her and subtly upped my pace. I was not prepared to be lectured to on this subject – especially not by Ellie.

‘Woods, slow down! I don’t want to die of a heart attack on the way to the fucking well!’

Ellie usually regressed to calling me ‘Woods’ when we were not in my mother’s company, or when she was particularly angry. I slowed down all the same. Despite what my mother had said, it was not such a great day for walking. It was too hot and muggy. It felt like it needed to rain. I knew that I should preserve some energy for the return trek.

‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong with you?’ Ellie asked.

‘Nothing’s wrong with me,’ I said. ‘I just get fed up when my mother won’t stop talking crap.’

‘Jesus! She’s entitled to her opinion, isn’t she?’

‘Yes. Just the same as I’m entitled to mine.’

‘Exactly. Except she isn’t the one getting all personal and nasty.’

‘Her opinions make no sense. She’s completely illogical.’

‘Logic! Fuck logic, Woods! There are more important things in the world than being logical – like being
nice
, for a start. Your mum’s heart’s in the right place. She wasn’t saying what she was saying just to piss you off. From where I was standing, she was just trying to have a reasonably pleasant conversation with you.’

‘If she wants a conversation, then she shouldn’t punish me for speaking my mind. It’s not fair.’

‘She’s not punishing you, you dildo! She’s giving you a chance to cool down. It’s pretty fucking obvious that you’re not in the best of moods today, and I suppose she’s hoping that if you’re not going to tell her what’s going on, then you might tell me. I’m the one who’s being punished here. A hike to the well is
not
my idea of a good time.’

‘This has nothing to do with you. You’re just collateral damage. Trust me: my mother is trying to teach me a lesson. That’s the way her mind works. She’s trying to force me to accept that she’s right and I’m wrong. She hates it when I disagree with her.’

‘Jesus, you’re brain dead!’ Ellie said.

I ignored her.

We’d reached the well, which was deserted except for a long row of cars that were parked up on the side of the road. Their owners had obviously headed up to the tor. I started filling the first water bottle. I knew it would take a couple of minutes, at least. The well water only gets dispensed from its wall outlet at a slow trickle, which is especially slow when it hasn’t rained for a while. But I didn’t mind waiting. It was past noon so the well was shaded by the embankments and the trees. Ellie had sat down on one of the benches just across the lane. She lit another cigarette.

‘You know, you don’t give your mother nearly enough credit,’ she said. ‘When has she ever told you what to think?’

‘She tells me all the time.’

‘When?’

‘All the time!’

‘As far as I can see, she’d never dream of imposing her beliefs on you. One thing you
can’t
accuse her of is telling you what to think or do. She respects your independence. And that’s not at all normal for parents. You don’t realize how lucky you are.’

I turned back to watch the water bottle filling. I thought it was typical of Ellie to try to turn the situation around so it was somehow a commentary on her own traumatic childhood. ‘You don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about,’ I told her.

We walked back from the well in silence.

At my biannual check-up with Dr Enderby, I told him about Mr Peterson. I hadn’t meant to say anything, but really I felt like I was left with no choice. Otherwise, this thing would just drag on and on for ever.

Dr Enderby didn’t say anything while I told him about our recent trip to the hospital and the misdiagnosis. He just looked at me very calmly, allowing me to lay down the facts from start to finish. I thought it was good that he was remaining so poised and unemotional in the face of my revelations. He wasn’t going to interrupt or question me until he’d had a chance to assimilate all the evidence. Then he’d know exactly how to clear up this mess. A couple of phone calls, a proper reassessment of the data and with any luck this would all be over in a matter of days – if not hours.

But when I’d finished speaking, he just continued to look at me for a few moments more, his demeanour unchanging. Then he said: ‘Alex, you know that you shouldn’t be telling me this, don’t you? Breaking a confidence is a very serious matter.’

I felt myself reddening. ‘I
am
breaking a confidence,’ I admitted. ‘Mr Peterson didn’t want me to tell anyone. But I couldn’t see what else to do. He’s being ridiculously stubborn about this.’

‘I can understand that you’re very upset right now,’ Dr Enderby said. ‘And I don’t doubt that you feel like you’re acting for the very best of reasons. But with some things, you have to respect a person’s wishes. You shouldn’t force Isaac down a path he doesn’t want to follow – especially at a time like this, when he probably feels like most of his choices have already been stripped away. I think you should be able to understand that as well as anybody.’

‘I do understand that. Of course I do. But this is an exceptional circumstance.’

Dr Enderby continued to look at me without changing his expression. Something clicked into place.

‘You already knew!’ I said.

‘Yes,’ Dr Enderby admitted. ‘I’ve known for some time.’

‘I didn’t think Dr Bradshaw was allowed to tell you.’

‘He wasn’t and he didn’t. Isaac phoned me shortly after the diagnosis. And we’ve spoken a couple more times since then.’

I felt a huge flood of relief. ‘So it’s okay, then? I mean, I know I shouldn’t have interfered, but I didn’t think he was going to get this sorted out on his own. But it’s okay now. You know about it and you’re obviously dealing with it. Is there going to be a reassessment? Or can’t you talk about that? I’ll understand if you can’t.’

‘Alex,’ Dr Enderby said softly, ‘there’s not going to be a reassessment. There’s no need. Dr Bradshaw knows what he’s talking about. He’s an expert in his field.’

‘Yes, of course. I’m not questioning his credentials. But misdiagnoses happen. I know they’re rare, but they happen. I was looking on the internet and—’

‘Alex, you have to listen to me. The diagnosis is correct. It’s not going to change. I’m sorry. I wish there was a kinder way to say this, but there isn’t.’

I looked at him blankly. I felt a weird, involuntary tremor in my jaw.

‘What you’re feeling now is perfectly normal,’ Dr Enderby went on, ‘but it can’t be allowed to continue indefinitely. You have to accept reality. Isaac has a terminal illness. And he’s going to need your support.’

I started crying. I felt Dr Enderby’s hand close on my shoulder. If I’d had the co-ordination, I would have pushed it away. I didn’t want it there. I felt too betrayed.

‘What can we do for him?’ I asked eventually. ‘Dr Bradshaw said that he could go on levodopa and that might slow the neurodegeneration. Or at least help with the symptoms.’

‘It might,’ Dr Enderby said. ‘But there’s more chance that it won’t. You have to be prepared for that. PSP is very difficult to treat effectively.’

‘Okay. So what else is there?’

‘Simple physiotherapy tends to have the best results. It won’t help with the visual problems, of course, but it should counter some of the locomotive dysfunction, at least for a while.’

‘But what about
real
treatments? Other drugs—’

‘Alex, I’m sure that Dr Bradshaw has been through all of the treatment options with you. I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything new. There aren’t any miracle cures on the horizon.’

‘But things are improving all the time, aren’t they? I mean, neurology’s advanced more in the last ten years than in the whole of the previous century. You told me that yourself.’

‘Yes, that’s true. And I’m sure that in another fifty years – maybe in another twenty years – the field will have changed almost beyond recognition. I’ve no doubt that someday all of these neurological disorders will go the same way as smallpox. But we’re not there yet. I’m sorry. I know it’s not what you want to hear right now.’

‘But you must know
something
. What about new treatments that are still in development? Drug trials? It doesn’t matter if they aren’t proven yet.’

‘Alex, you know what I know. If there was anything else, I’d tell you.’

I was starting to shake again. I tried to focus on my breathing. I couldn’t.

‘Alex?’ Dr Enderby said. ‘Alex, I want you to look at me.’

I looked at him.

‘Do you know what’s really going to help Isaac over the coming months? Just being there for him. Being his friend. Respecting and supporting his decisions. That’s what’s going to make a difference to him. I know it’s a terrible position to be in – especially at your age – but I also know that you’re going to cope with it. It might not feel like it now, but you’ve got a lot of strength in you. And so has Isaac. I’ve only got a few phone calls to go on, but in all honesty, it seems to me that he’s coping as well as anyone could in these circumstances. But he still needs your friendship and your support. He doesn’t need you tearing yourself in two looking for a solution that doesn’t exist. He’s accepted what’s happening. Now you have to do the same.’

‘He’s seen a lot of terrible things in his life,’ I said.

‘Yes, I know.’

‘I think that’s why he’s coping so well now.’

‘Yes, you might be right.’

‘But it’s also why this is so unfair. He shouldn’t have to go through this as well.’

‘No, he shouldn’t. No one should have to go through this. But dwelling on that thought is not going to help in the slightest. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because sometimes chance and circumstance can seem like the most appalling injustice, but we just have to adapt. That’s all we can do.’

‘Yes, I know that too.’

‘I know you do,’ Dr Enderby said. ‘You
should
know it. Understanding and accepting that you have a permanent illness does not mean being a slave to it. It’s the first step you have to take so that you can go on living your life. And I think right now that’s exactly what Isaac’s trying to do. He wants to make the most of whatever time he’s got. We need to support him in this.’

I wiped my eyes and nodded.

‘Are you going to tell him?’ I asked. ‘You know, that I wasn’t able to keep his confidence?’