The Last Goodbye (37 page)

“I hated her, you know – I couldn’t look at her without blame.”

“It wasn’t her fault, Kate – she was only a helpless baby that didn’t know a thing about the world she had been born into.”

“I know that, Dad – logically, I know that, but I resented her because the way I saw it was that Mam chose her over the rest of us.”

“Your mother had a horrible decision to make and she didn’t see that she was choosing Aoife over the rest of you because in her heart she truly believed she’d recover after the surgery. She didn’t choose Aoife over you or your brothers, Kate – you know that, don’t you, love?”

“I guess it must have been an awful decision to have to make . . .”

“Yeah, it wasn’t very nice and we fought a lot about it at the time and your mother and me never fought but I wanted her to have the surgery but she wouldn’t do it. She could be very stubborn when she wanted to be.”

I smiled. “Ben says the same thing about me.”

“Well, you didn’t lick it off the ground!” He grinned at me.

“Was Gran really pissed off with me after my last visit home?”

“No, you know your gran – she loves you no matter what you do, you know that. She knows that it’s still hard on you.”

That was another thing. Because I’d been her only granddaughter I had always been Gran’s favourite. My Auntie Anna who lived in New York had had two boys and Gran had only met them a few times in her life. But then when Aoife arrived, it seemed that Gran always had her in her arms. Suddenly, I felt pushed aside. Although I know it was probably only in my head that that had happened.

We both fell quiet then. The condensation from the milk carton had pooled on the table between us.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“I think I’d like to go and see Aoife in the morning.”

“Well now, Kate,” he was hesitant, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you? I don’t think any of us want a repeat of what happened at the hospital.”

“Don’t worry, Dad, neither do I. I just want to talk to her. Properly.”

I could see him raise his eyebrows and he studied my face for a minute.

“Okay – we’ll go over there in the morning.” He sat back in his chair and swallowed back the last mouthful in his mug.

Chapter 51

The next morning I gently woke Ben and told him where I was going.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

I shook my head. “No, you sleep on – I won’t be long.”

Dad drove us over to Gran’s house. It was only across the fields as the crow flies but it was still damp and drizzly out so neither of us fancied walking. I followed him into the kitchen where the TV was on. It was showing a rerun of some eighties quiz show. The presenter was a skinny guy in a faded brown suit. I thought I recognised him from when I was a child.

Aoife came into the kitchen with a white towel wrapped around her head. She looked startled when she saw Dad and me in the kitchen too.

“Aoife, you look much better!” Dad said. “That sleep did you the world of good.”

She nodded. “Well, I’m nearly ready and then I just want to gather up a few things for her before we go. Can you drive me in?”

“Of course I’ll drive you but the nurse won’t let us in until twelve. They’re strict about visitors. They don’t want us to tire her out.”

“Oh, right. I see.” She sounded disappointed as she sat down on a chair.

“While I’m here, I’m going to have a look at that door handle that your gran was giving out about last week.” It was obvious that he was making an excuse to leave us on our own.

Aoife nodded. “Yeah, she’s afraid that if she goes into the bathroom that she might never come out again.”

Dad went down to the bathroom and it was just the two of us left on our own together then. I tried to think back. I didn’t think I’d ever been on my own with her before. Even when she was a baby I had always managed to somehow avoid it. She unwrapped the towel from her hair and put it over her shoulders.

To look at us, you could tell that we were sisters. Our appearances were similar, although unlike me, her childhood white-blonde hair had never darkened and she didn’t have an expensive highlight habit to maintain. She didn’t even have any frown lines – at eighteen I’d had a few wrinkles, probably from all the smoking and drinking that I used to do. But even though we were sisters, we were effectively strangers – I didn’t know anything about her.

There was an awkward silence and I wasn’t sure what exactly I was going to say to her. I pulled out a chair from the table and sat down opposite her.

“Looks like you were right earlier – I was avoiding Dad’s phone calls,” I said eventually.

“Well, I’m sick of everyone making excuses for you, Kate. Gran was in Intensive Care and you were too busy swanning around London to care.”

“That’s not true – as soon as I heard what had happened I came here as quick as I could.”

“But why would you ignore Dad’s calls? Why would you do that? All he does is say how great you are!”

I squirmed in my seat. “The reason I was ignoring Dad was because the last time I was back Dad gave me a letter.”

Aoife’s clear blue eyes opened wide. “What was in it?”

“It was a letter that Mam wrote for me the night before she died. It was her way of saying goodbye – you see, we had fought for weeks before she died and I refused to go and see her in hospital. I regret it so much now – believe me if I could turn back the clock I would . . . but Dad never gave it to me until I was home the last time.”

“But why would he do that?”

“I don’t know, he said he wasn’t sure how I’d react. He was afraid I’d tear it up or something. He’s right though, I probably would have.”

“Well, then, maybe he was right to hold on to it. You know, you think you were the only one affected by it all. Myself, Patrick and Seán lost our mother too – Gran lost her daughter, Dad lost his wife. We all lost her, Kate, not just you!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t know her.”

It was probably the worst thing I could ever have said to her.

“Do you not think I wish I had?” Her eyes blazed and her voice climbed higher. “Do you know how hard it is to grow up not being able to remember your own mother?”

“But you didn’t have to watch her die!”

“I know that and it must have been an awful time for you all but will you stop feeling sorry for yourself! You’re lucky you can remember her. I would give anything to even just have one memory of her.”

I had never thought of it like that before. I had always just assumed that she was the fortunate one because she couldn’t remember any of it. Because she was too young to experience the pain.

“Look, Kate, this isn’t a Top Trumps competition about who misses Mam more.”

“You’re right, Aoife,” I sighed. “You’re right. Look, this isn’t an excuse for my behaviour. But this whole thing – well, I still find it very hard, to be honest. That’s why I never come home to visit. I find it too upsetting and I get all uptight and end up rubbing everyone up the wrong way – but it’s because I’m nervous.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I was talking to Gran after you went back.”

“I think I owe you an apology. I’m sorry about the last time I was home,” I blurted out. “I really am – I was rude, arrogant and out of order. I’m sorry for blaming you for all these years. I suppose I never tried looking at it from your point of view before.”

“It’s okay – sometimes I blame myself too.”

“You do?”

“Well, sometimes.” She took a deep breath. “At times, y’know, like when it’s her anniversary or at Christmas and I know that everyone is missing her and finding it tough going . . . well, I feel a bit left out at times like that because I have no memories of her, I can’t join in and reminisce about her.” She lowered her voice. “And sometimes I wonder if secretly they are thinking that it’s all my fault . . .”

“They don’t think that!”

“How do you know? You do, so why shouldn’t they?”

“I don’t, Aoife – not really. I just wanted someone to blame and you were the easiest person. You couldn’t even fight back. Sure no one knows – even if she had taken treatment earlier she still might not have made it.”

“Maybe. And we’ll never know now, will we?”

I shook my head. “It’s not fair – life isn’t fair. I spent so many years being angry about it all but I had a big chat with Dad last night and I can now see that I’m only wasting my energy – it won’t bring her back.”

“What was she like, Kate? Sometimes Dad or Gran will mention her in passing but I’ve always been afraid to ask too much about her in case they get upset.”

“You would have loved her – she was a great mother. She had this great big smile – she was one of those people who smiled with her eyes. She had wild curly blonde hair and she was forever trying to tame it. I used to think she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She had to put on her mascara every morning, even if we weren’t going anywhere – she said she felt naked without it. I would stand beside her at the mirror and she would hand it to me then and I would put it on too. I’m sure I must have looked a fright going to school as a five-year-old with mascara on me but she never said anything – just how I looked so pretty.”

“You’re so lucky to have memories of her. I only have the photos that Dad gave me. Sometimes I try to imagine the woman in the photos talking or doing stuff but it doesn’t work.” She smiled sadly. “I don’t really feel that you and Patrick and Seán are my sister and brothers. I feel removed from it all and I’m afraid to show emotion in case I’m accused of being fake. It’s like you’re all wondering how I could understand what you’re all going through because I didn’t know her.”

“No one thinks that – Patrick and Seán think the world of you, and Dad and Gran too – if I’m honest the reason I was such a bitch to you last weekend was because I was jealous of you and how much they all think of you. If anyone is an outsider, it’s me! They all know you and love you – you belong in this family.”

“Thanks, Kate – it means a lot to hear you say that.”

“Look, Aoife, I know we don’t really know each other very well and I take full responsibility for that – I never really gave you any time – but I was fourteen when Mam died and, even though I knew she was sick, I never thought that she would
die
so it came as a huge shock to me when she passed away. Sometimes I still can’t believe that she is actually gone, y’know . . .”

“I can only imagine.”

“I was angry for a long time – very angry. I still am, to be honest. But . . . well . . . maybe it’s time for me to let it go.” I sighed. “I have to accept that that was the decision she made at the time and we’ll never know what way things might have been if she had chosen to get the surgery. I know there’s years of old ground and it can’t all be changed overnight but if you’ll let me . . . then maybe we could get to know each other properly?”

“I’d like that,” she smiled at me.

Chapter 52

By the time Aoife and I had finished talking, it was time to go back in to visit Gran.

I had a quick shower to freshen up back at Dad’s but the lack of sleep from thinking about it all meant I felt like I was dead on my feet. I nodded off in the car as Ben drove us back to the hospital. Dad and Aoife were travelling together. I felt as though I had literally closed my eyes when Ben was gently shaking my shoulder to tell me we had arrived.

“C’mon, love, I know you want to go and see your gran.”

We met a nurse coming out from her room.

“How was she overnight?” Dad asked.

“She’s doing okay. I have to warn you though that her speech has been quite badly affected – try not to be alarmed when you try to talk to her. Although sometimes speech and language difficulties can rectify themselves in stroke victims, so try not to worry just yet.” She lowered her voice. “It also looks as though she might have some paralysis in her right arm.”

“Oh no!” Aoife’s voice broke and she dissolved into tears.

“Come here, love,” Dad said, wrapping Aoife into a hug.

“You need to be aware that because of her age and after an incident like this, there is a possibility that she won’t regain her full functionality and she may need full-time care.”

Aoife shrieked in horror.

Dad rubbed Aoife’s shoulder brusquely.

“As in a nursing home?” Dad said.

The nurse nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I see.” He exhaled heavily.

We went inside and sat down on the various chairs around Gran’s bed. She was sleeping.

“There’s no way I can let her go into a nursing home, Dad,” Aoife said as she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

“Don’t worry, love, we won’t let that happen. We’ll look after whatever care she needs between us all.”