Losing Me (11 page)

That made Jean laugh. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Look at you. Of course you’re not going to die.” She peered at the monitor. “Your BP and heart rate are fine.”

“That’s what the doctor said. But are you sure?”

“Positive. Sweetheart, please try to calm down. Whatever’s wrong, you’re certainly not at death’s door.”

“Not that you’d tell me if I were.”

“Of course I would. You know me. By now I’d be asking if you wanted to be burned, buried or stuffed.”

“Hang on—didn’t we have this conversation at your birthday party?”

“Yeah. I think I decided I wanted to be stuffed and brought out at Christmas.”

Jean majored in jovial calm. She absorbed other people’s panic like human Bounty. When friends described her as solid and capable, she always complained. “It makes me sound like one of those burly women gym teachers.” But capable she was. Not to mention sensible and wise. Her sister, Val, called her an old soul. Jean hated that, too, because it suggested some forlorn phantom haunting the Tower of London. Unless she had reason, Jean was anything but forlorn. In fact, it was her humor that first brought Barbara and Jean together.

It was 1980 or thereabouts. Barbara had picked up a flyer in the local library publicizing a new women’s group. She decided to go along to the first meeting and check it out. The flyer had suggested that group members could look forward to lively debates on subjects like equal pay and the division of domestic labor. The last thing Barbara had expected was a turgid lecture by a feminist academic with an overabundance of armpit hair on whether E=mc
2
was a “sexed” equation. From what Barbara could gather, it privileged the speed of light over other vitally necessary speeds.

The young woman sitting next to Barbara had clearly noticed her yawning. “Why doesn’t somebody tell her to shut up and shave?” she whispered.

Barbara burst out laughing and was told to shush.

“I’m Jean, by the way.”

“Barbara. I don’t know about you, but I need to get out of here.”

Giggling like a pair of naughty schoolgirls, they hotfooted it to the pub.

•   •   •

“Tell you what,” Jean was saying now. “Why don’t I go and find a doctor? I think you need to know what’s going on.”

Before she had a chance, a hand pushed back the cubicle curtain and a doctor appeared. Dr. Sykes was a specialist who’d been sent down from cardiology to take a look at Barbara’s ECG results. At a guess, she was about Barbara’s age. Gray hair. Sensible flats. Eminently trustworthy. “Well, the good news is everything’s perfectly normal. Your X-rays are fine. There’s nothing on your ECG or in your blood tests to suggest a heart attack.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“So I’m not going to die.”

Dr. Sykes smiled. “I’d say you’ve probably got a year or two left.”

“What did I tell you?” Jean said.

“Then what happened? It certainly felt like a heart attack. I had pains in my chest. I was gasping for breath.”

“I’m pretty certain you had a panic attack.”

“But I never panic. I mean, I get worked up about stuff and things are pretty stressful at the moment, but I never panic.”

Dr. Sykes asked what kind of stress she’d been experiencing.

Barbara went through the list. She’d just been sacked. Then there was Troy and the social workers. Oh, and Ben living at home earning no money, Jess and Matt struggling to make a go of their business.

“Is that all? Well, if you ask me, you’ve got one heck of a lot going on. I think this is your body telling you everything’s gotten to be too much.”

She said Barbara was free to go, but suggested she see her family doctor to discuss antianxiety medication. She also told her that she needed to take things easy.

“Take things easy?” Barbara said to Jean after Dr. Sykes had gone. “She’s having a laugh. Oh, and I forgot to mention to her that my mother thinks Glenn Miller and his orchestra have moved into her building.”

“Come again.”

“I Googled it. Apparently, it’s a thing. It’s called musical ear syndrome.”

“I’ve heard of that,” Jean said. “There was a chap in the old-age home where Ken’s dad lived. He had it. Thought the cast of
Hello, Dolly!
was camped on the lawn.”

“Sounds about right.”

“But listen, the doctor’s right. You do have to start taking it easy.”

Just then Ken appeared. Shirtsleeves. Stethoscope around his neck.

“Hi. Jean texted me. What happened? You OK?”

“Oh, Ken, you’re such a sweetheart to come and check on me, but I’m fine. It’s all been one huge fuss about nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Jean said.

Barbara gave him the bullet points.

“You poor old sausage. Sounds to me like you could do with getting away for a week or two. Couldn’t Frank get some time off?”

“I doubt it. He’s off to Mexico in a couple of weeks.”

Just then Barbara’s mobile rang. Speak of the devil.

“Bar, what’s been going on? Are you OK? What have the doctors said?”

“It wasn’t a heart attack. The heart specialist is pretty certain it was a panic attack. It’s stress, apparently. But I honestly thought I was having a heart attack. I had these terrible chest pains. I couldn’t breathe. I was sure I was going to die. Frank, I’ve been so scared.”

“Christ, I bet you were. And they’re absolutely sure it was just a panic attack?”

“Yes. They want me to go on antianxiety meds.”

“Makes sense.”

“Look, you wouldn’t come and pick me up, would you? I’m still feeling pretty shaky. I could really do with a cup of tea and a hug.”

“I’m sure you could. You’ve had a nasty scare. The thing is, I’m really up against it here.” She could hear the panic in his voice. Then came the silence while he tried to decide what to do. “OK, don’t worry. I’ll get the tube over to the hospital. I’ll be with you in half an hour or so. Then we’ll take a cab home.”

“Thanks, hon. I really appreciate it.”

She said her thank-yous and good-byes to Jean and Ken.

“Promise you’ll call if you need me,” Jean said, hugging her. “Day or night. It doesn’t matter.”

“I promise.”

“You’re going to be fine. Try to get some rest. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Barbara got dressed and made her way to the reception area to wait for Frank. While she waited, she called Sandra.

“So in the end it was just a panic attack.”

“Thank the Lord for that. No, that came out wrong. What I mean is, I’m relieved it’s nothing life-threatening. We’ve all been so worried about you.”

“I have to say I feel like a bit of a fraud.”

“What? Don’t be daft. Of course you’re not a fraud. I dropped a huge bombshell on you yesterday. I’m not surprised you had a reaction. But like I said, I did my level best to fight in your corner with the Education Department. They simply refused to listen.”

“I know. Look, forget about it. What’s done is done.”

“So I’m assuming you’ve been told to take it easy for a while.”

“Yes, but how can I? I have to earn a living. I need to start job hunting. Not that I’m going to have much luck at my age.”

“You mustn’t think about any of that for a few days. Take some sick leave. Go for walks. I find a good long walk in the fresh air bucks me up no end.”

Barbara said she’d think about taking some time off. “So, how’s Troy?”

“He’s absolutely fine. He’s here in my office. We’ve been doing some coloring. Now, go home, put your feet up and stop worrying.”

Barbara said she would do her best.

It was more than an hour before Frank appeared.

“Sorry to take so long. Bloody Central line’s out again. In the end I got a cab. Then the traffic was a nightmare. Anyway, I asked the driver to wait. Taxi’s outside.”

In the cab he kissed her and put his arm around her. “How you feeling now?”

“Still a bit shaky. Honestly, I thought I was dying back there. All I could think about were the things I still want to do and achieve.”

“What? Like skydiving?”

“No, not like skydiving,” She managed a smile. “Like making something of the next few years. I want to go out with a bang, not a whimper.”

“You will. But for now you have to take it easy. Understood?”

“I suppose.” She sank into him, felt his warm breath on her cheek.

As the taxi turned in to their street, Frank told the driver he’d be needing a ride back into town.

“What? You’re going back to work?” Barbara said.

“I’ve got to. I’m up to my eyes with this edit. Tell you what; I’ll make sure I’m back by seven and I’ll bring in a curry. How does that sound?”

“But what if I have another panic attack in the meantime?”

“Ben’s around. If you feel wobbly, just get him to call the doctor.”

“You sure you can’t stay?”

“I’m sorry. I really have to get back.”

“OK.” Only it wasn’t OK. It was anything but.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. I’ll be back at seven with food.”

The taxi pulled away. Barbara rummaged in her bag for her house keys. She stepped inside and closed the door. Usually after a long day she found comfort in the silence. But right now she couldn’t. The silence, the emptiness made her anxious. She felt as if she’d been cast adrift in a vast ocean with no life raft. She needed somebody to cling on to, to make her feel safe. She knew that Ben was upstairs, but if she had another panic attack, he wouldn’t know what to do. He would most likely get frightened and make things worse. Her heart was starting to race. She took her phone out of her pocket and hit Jean’s number.

“Hey, sweetie. You OK?”

“Not really. Frank had to go back to work, and I’m not sure I want to be on my own.”

“Don’t worry. My shift finishes in half an hour. I’ll come straight over.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I am. Just sit tight. I’m on my way.”

•   •   •

Gradually Barbara’s parents stop going to parties. Rose says, “Daddy isn’t well.” But he’s not in bed or in the hospital or anything. Instead her father sits in the chair all the time. He always wears the same gray cardigan and his eyes look sad. When she goes to give him a kiss, his face feels all bristly. Rose keeps nagging him about his hair. She says if he doesn’t get it cut, she’ll have do it. “And get out of that jumper and let me wash it—before the thing walks off you.”

Barbara pesters her mother for an explanation. Rose says that the war affected his nerves. Now it’s getting worse, and he finds it difficult to leave the house. She’s cross with him because he refuses to take the pills the doctor’s prescribed. He’s told her they make him feel drowsy and nauseous. Rose thinks he should persevere.

Barbara decides that if she’d been in the war, all the bombs and shooting would have affected her nerves, too. She feels sorry for her daddy.

One day she overhears her mother talking about Stan on the phone. “The army doles out this paltry pension and then abandons him. I’m the one left to cope every night when he wakes up screaming. If only he’d talk about it, but he can’t. God knows those poor people suffered in Belsen. It’s beyond imagining, but the soldiers who went in and liberated them have their own nightmares.” Barbara isn’t quite sure what any of this means, but she knows that Rose is sad, too. She must try harder to make her happy. She must stop whining and complaining and being selfish.

•   •   •

Jean put the kettle on and opened a packet of chocolate gingers. She brought the tea and biscuits into the living room, where Barbara was sitting on the sofa, wrapped in a duvet. The heating was on, but she couldn’t get warm. “Why am I shivering?”

“You’re still in shock,” Jean said, putting the tray down on the coffee table. She passed Barbara a mug of tea. “Take a biscuit, too. You could probably do with the sugar.”

Barbara helped herself to a chocolate ginger and demolished it in two bites.

“It was ever so kind of Ken to come and check on me. I mean, it was kind of you, too, but he’s not my closest friend the way you are.” She sipped her tea. “Funny how Ken dropped everything, but Frank hardly ever puts himself out for me. While I was in labor with Jess, he spent most of the time sitting next to me reading the papers. Afterwards he said it was because he was terrified. I, of course, wasn’t remotely scared.”

“I’ve known you forever, and this is the first time you have ever complained about Frank. You’ve always been so stoic.”

“I had no choice.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Jean said. “Frank’s a good man. He spends his life trying to expose the suffering in the world, but at the same time, he can be so self-centered.”

“So you don’t think I was wrong for wanting him to stay with me after we got back from the hospital?”

“Of course you weren’t. Imagine if the tables had been reversed. You wouldn’t have abandoned him.”

“You know it’s only recently,” Barbara said, “that I’ve started to work out why I rarely make a fuss when Frank treats me badly. Growing up with parents who neglected me emotionally left me with a profound sense that I didn’t deserve to be loved. I still struggle with it.” She said that the likelihood was she would always have fallen for a workaholic, self-absorbed man like Frank. If he was what she deserved, what right did she have to complain?

“And yet you don’t question whether you deserve to be loved by your kids.”

“I know. I can’t explain why. Maybe it’s because they’ve loved me from when they were tiny and I’ve just taken it for granted. I’ve never taken Frank’s love for granted.”

“Why not?”

“I worry about being too needy. Frank loathes needy people. He’s such a contradiction. When it comes to global suffering, he’s brimming over with compassion. When it comes to me, he shows very little emotional support. . . .” She trailed off. “Sorry—now I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”

“No, you’re not. You’re being honest. Frank isn’t an easy man to live with.”

“He just seems incapable of understanding how relationships work—that caring is a two-way street. I know it’s late in the day, but I’m starting to wonder if he’s ever so slightly autistic.”

“He could definitely be on the spectrum,” Jean said.

Barbara smiled. “You think everybody’s on the spectrum.”