Breach of Faith (28 page)

“Is Stuart coming down?”

“Later today.” She gave me a sideways glance, “and what about you? Will your husband be here?”

I took a deep breath, “of course not.”

Paula held out her hand and I took it reluctantly. “Kate, Frank told me everything. Your play acting at the demonstration, the night in the motel … the baby.” She looked pointedly at my swollen stomach before returning her eyes to my face. “And your husband. He also told me how wonderful you’d been through all of this.”

I bit my lip, “he’s my friend, what else could I do? I care about him too much to leave him now.”

“He’s in love with you, Kate. You know that, don’t you?”

I hesitated then nodded slowly, “I know,” I replied softly. “I love him too.”

Paula narrowed her eyes, “I believe you do, but what about your husband?”

“What about him?”

“You’re going to need him, Kate, when all this is over. You’ll need his support and this baby needs a father. Do you still love him?”

I felt my cheeks redden, embarrassed by the intimacy of the question. “Frank always said you were pushy.”

Paula grinned, “so do you?”

“Of course I do,” I replied defensively, “but it’s not that simple. There are other … unrelated issues that still need to be resolved.”

Carl, oh Carl.

I shook my head impatiently, “it’s going to take time to solve all our problems. That’s assuming they
can
be solved.”

Paula frowned, “sounds heavy. Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head, “not really.”

“Have you spoken to him since you got back from
England?”

I nodded, “a couple of times. I think both of us need a bit of time to get over all the unpleasantness. I also think he’s a bit embarrassed about what happened.”

“Does he know you’re staying here with Frank?”

“No.”

“Does he know Frank’s dying?”

“I don’t think so, I haven’t told him.”

We sat in silence for a while, drinking our drinks, engrossed in our own thoughts. Finally Paula broke the silence.

“He’s very excited, you know; Frank, about the baby. Don’t let him fool you, he’s always wanted to be a father, even more so since Cassie lost their baby. It’s his one big regret, not living long enough to see the baby born.”

I sighed and stood up, picking up the empty cups and placing them on the sink, “I wish he could have too.” Hearing a noise I started towards the door, “sounds like Frank’s woken up. I’ll go, you rest for a while. I’ll come and wake you if anything happens.”

If what happens?
If he dies, you mean.

I was shocked by the change in Frank’s appearance, the deterioration had been rapid and my first thought was that he’d already died, silently leaving this world while Paula and myself shared gossip in the kitchen. I held my breath and made my way slowly towards the bed, only letting out the breath when I realised Frank’s chest was still moving gently.

We took it in turns that day, to sit with him, talk to him, make him comfortable. Stuart arrived around three o’clock that afternoon, the tears in his eyes overflowing as he left Frank’s room, letting Paula take over the afternoon shift of nursing. As night drew close, I stood up and smiled gently at Stuart.

“I’ll go and relieve Paula, she’ll need her rest.”

Entering Frank’s room I quietly murmured to Paula, assuring the other woman I’d be fine until morning. I stood by Frank’s bed, looking down at the father of my baby and silently allowed myself to fall apart. Letting the tears flow until there were no more and letting the emotions take my on a roller coaster ride of sorrow and desperation. Finally, picking myself up, I sat on the chair beside the bed, and waited.

22 February

“Kate?”

The quiet voice awoke me from a light doze and I yawned, rubbing my eyes. “What time is it?”

“Close to midnight,” he paused, “I knew you’d be here tonight.”

“Why?” I leaned forwards, trying to make out his features in the deep, grey light. A crack in the curtains should have been admitting a soft moonlight glow but the night beyond the window was black, the soothing sound of rain pattering against the glass giving me the feeling of security and warmth.

“Because, Kate my eternal love, tonight is the night.”

“What night?” My fuzzy brain was taking its time waking up and I wished I was one of those people who could wake up quickly and intelligently, moments after being pulled from dream-world.

I heard Frank chuckle softly. “Tonight will be my last, Kate. Come morning, I’ll be long gone.”

I reached out to turn on the bedside lamp but was stopped by Frank’s frail grip on my arm. “Has something happened? Let me look at you. Shall I get Paula?”

“Kate, sit beside me on the bed,” he pulled me gently towards him. “I’m dying, we both know that I can count my lifespan in hours not days or weeks. I have a strong feeling that I’m not going to see another day, I won’t get to enjoy another sunrise or feel the sun warming my face. This is it for me so right now, I just want you.”

Swallowing back the tears, even though he couldn’t see them, I gave his hand a soft squeeze. “Frank, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.” His voice was croaky, like he hadn’t used it in a while but his hand was warm, alive in my fingers. “Would you do something for me?”

“Anything. Would you like water, food, a beer?”

Frank laughed quietly, “not now, maybe later. Music is what I want; the food of love. Put on the light and over by my stereo you’ll find a CD, it’s the only one over there.” His sunken eyes gazed towards the far corner where the stereo waited.

I looked curiously at the CD Frank had requested. “Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, I love this.”

I came back to the bed, followed by the haunting sounds of Spring and looked closely at Frank. With the light on, his face was ghostly, his cheekbones standing out prominently in a fleshless, transparent face. He was watching as I stopped in front of him.

“Come here,” he whispered, “stay with me, Kate. Lie next to me and let me hold you as if everything is all right and you’re mine. Forever”

I smiled and kicked off my shoes, sliding silently into bed beside him. Reaching across, I turned off the light and kissed him lightly on the cheek before lying my head on his shoulder.

“I am yours,” I murmured back, “tonight and forever, I am yours and you are mine.” I lay my arm across his chest, feeling the steady movement of his breathing and his hand covered mine, our fingers interlocking.

“I’m frightened,” he whispered, so quietly I could almost believe he hadn’t spoken, his other hand stroking my hair. “ I don’t want to die, I don’t want to leave you.”

“Oh, Frank –”

“Hold me.” I could hear the panic in his voice. “Hold me tight, Kate, and let me love you. Let me feel my baby deep inside you and give it the strength that’s pouring out of me.”

I quickly and quietly wriggled out of my clothes, found Frank’s hand and placed it gently above my womb where the baby was bouncing happily.

Frank sucked in his breath, holding it as he moved his hand slowly across my stomach, finally letting it out as his hand stilled. “That’s my baby,” he whispered, the awe and wonder evident in his voice, “a little part of you and me, living and growing in there.”

I placed my hand on top of his, “and I will make sure that this beautiful little boy or girl will never forget the wonderful man that is their father.” I gently removed his hand from my belly, moving it up to my breast. “Tonight, I’m yours, Frank,” I repeated in a low voice, “tonight and forever.” I felt my nipple rise against his palm as his fingers caressed my flesh and stretching across, I found his lips with mine.

We lay quietly for a while, each caught up in our own thoughts. I’d taken off Frank’s pyjama top, my fingers playing lazily with his nipple as he held me, my breasts squished comfortably against his chest.

“Are you awake?”

He grunted in reply, “don’t stop,” he begged as my fingers stilled their journey around his nipple.

I obediently continued the expert manipulation and he groaned quietly in pleasure. “I can …um … move a little lower if you’d like,” I offered and slid my hand down below his waist.

Frank’s groan turned into a mouse-like squeak as I gently caressed him. “Oh, Kate. Is this what they mean by a dying man’s last wish?” His voice held a smile but he stilled my hand and moved it back up to his chest. “However much I appreciate the offer, I think the excitement might just kill me.”

His voice was weak, the effort it took to add a joking inflection to his words was obvious. I pushed myself up onto my elbow and looked at the ghostly shadow his face made against the cream pillow case. “Is there anything you want? Anything. Just ask and I’ll make sure it happens.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Just one thing,” he replied finally. “I want to fall asleep for the last time holding you in my arms.”

The tears running unceasingly down my face, I gave Frank one final kiss, long and hard, a lover’s kiss. “I do love you, Frank Jones, from the bottom of my heart.”

“Thankyou,” he whispered in reply. And as I lay my head once more on his shoulder and held him tight, a far away rumble of thunder sounded, almost drowning out his final, softly spoken words.

“I love you, too.”

26 February

Death is a haze of activity. A never ending supply of things to do, people to see, arrangements to be made. It’s like that on purpose so people like me would have no time to think, to suffer, to mourn. And then, suddenly, it’s all over and those emotions you’ve been trying to suppress come flooding back, threatening to pull you under.

I balanced the little black hat on top of my head and stared at myself in the mirror, the long, black lines of my mourning dress contrasting sharply with the ghostly pallor of my skin. For the first time in months my nausea had returned, sharp and acrid, and I swallowed hurriedly, grabbing a glass of water from the dressing table.

Almost as soon as it had appeared, the sickness had gone, leaving me with an overwhelming feeling of loss and an eerie sensation of anticipation. I peered at my reflection then shrugged complacently, pulling the ridiculous little hat off my unruly locks.

“Never did like that silly thing anyway.”

A sharp knock at the door and Martha poked her head in. “It’s time.”

I nodded, “I’ll be out in a moment.”

The last few days had passed in a blur of nothingness. Waking up next to Frank on Thursday morning …

H
ad it really only been three days ago?

… it had taken a few minutes before my brain had come fully into gear. I’d been reminded of that night in September; that night in the motel. The following morning had felt very similar to this, feelings of love and passion all mixed up and sprinkled with a large pinch of guilt.

I’d finally fallen asleep at dawn, my head still on Frank’s shoulder. He’d been quiet, at peace, the irregular rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was still alive.

I’d awoken late the following day; last Thursday. The sun hidden behind left-over storm clouds, the bedroom grey and foreboding, accentuating my emotions. I could feel a hand on my bare shoulder, shaking gently, insistently.

“Go back to sleep,” I’d murmured, content to let the rain fall outside while we lay snug and warm, here in bed.

“Kate, wake up.”

Frank’s voice sounded funny; high-pitched, choked. He was still shaking my shoulder but harder now, more persistent.

“Okay, okay,” I grumbled, “I’m awake.”

Too late I realised it wasn’t Frank’s hand on my shoulder.

“Kate, you have to get up. He’s gone.”

He’s gone
.

“No!” I didn’t recognise the voice as my own at first, a stranger denying the inevitable.

“I’m sorry, Kate.” A pyjama-clad Paula was crouching beside the bed, her hand still resting on my back. “He’s gone.”

There’d been no tears, not then, the tears had come later. For now there was just a hollow feeling of loss, a small hole where part of my heart had once lived.

I’d climbed out of the bed and dressed, not bothering to hide my nudity from Paula, hardly noticing when the other woman turned away to give me some privacy. I didn’t want to look at the body on the bed, I wanted to remember Frank the way he had been … before.

“What happens now?”

Paula turned to face me. “He’ll be taken away. I expect they’ll do an autopsy, just to confirm the cause of death, and then his … body … will be released for burial.”

“Just like that,” I whispered.

“Just like that.”

Paula had been crying, my eyes as dry as dust, but for a few moments we had clung to each other for support.

And now, as Martha had said, it was time.

*

The funeral had gone off without a hitch.

The day was muggy, heavy with a threat of afternoon storms as I stepped out of the car outside Frank’s house. No, not Frank’s house anymore, since the reading of the will it belonged to my unborn baby.