Хилари Боннер - No Reason To Die

‘I’m so sorry...’ he began.

Moira kept smiling. ‘Aren’t you always?’ she said very quietly.

‘I guess, I am,’ he smiled back.

‘You do love me, though, John, don’t you?’

‘Oh yes, my darling, I love you, I really do love you.’

That was easy. Seeing her lying there, so terribly poorly, he felt quite overwhelmed by love. But he also knew that the manner of his love for Moira had all too often been inadequate. A psychologist, who had seemed to Kelly to be blessed with far more common sense than most of his kind, had once told him that the trouble with love is that it means different things to different people. Kelly was all too aware that while it was the absolute truth that he loved Moira dearly, it did not necessarily mean that he loved her in the way she loved him. Moira was so much more steadfast than him, for a start. She had never let him down, not once in ten years, which was certainly more than Kelly could say.

‘I love you, too, John.’

‘I know that, darling. You don’t have to tell me. Don’t tire yourself...’

‘No, I want to tell you. There’s so much I want to say, John, you won’t lose touch with the girls, will you?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘They’ll be all right, all of them, I’m sure. I had good insurance, as you know, so there’ll be a little bit of money for them each, and there’s the house, of course. But Jennifer is only nineteen. It’s very young to be left on your own. And Lynne’s only a couple of years older. At least Paula is married and has a family of her own, and I know Lynne and Jennifer can visit her and Ben whenever they want, but none the less...’

Moira’s voice tailed off. Kelly didn’t know quite what to say.

‘She looks upon you as her father, you know that, John,’ Moira continued. ‘You’ve been a damned sight better to her than her own father ever was, that’s for sure.’

Jennifer’s own father had beaten his wife and more or less ignored his daughters. Everything in life is relative. Kelly hoped to God that he had been better to all of Moira’s girls than Peter Simmons had been. But he knew only too well that he had been a bloody lousy father to his own son. To Nick. It was funny how life paid little tricks like that.

‘I look upon Jennifer as my daughter, Moira,’ Kelly said. And that was almost true, too. But then, Jennifer had put few demands on him, which had made it all right. Kelly was never very good at coping with demands.

‘So, you’ll keep an eye on her, spend some time with her.’ Moira’s voice was little more than a whisper now. Kelly could see that even the smallest exertion drained her.

‘Of course I will.’

Kelly was distinctly uncomfortable. Moira was giving him instructions about what she would like him to do after she was dead. That was perfectly clear. And yet, as ever, the ‘d’ word was never actually used. Kelly found himself once more wishing he wasn’t at her bedside to hear this. Wasn’t with her at all. It was dreadful, he knew, but he just wanted to be anywhere in the world, doing anything, absolutely anything at all, other than sitting at Moira’s bedside watching her die, while knowing that the terrible reality of what was happening would never be addressed. Not ever. Moira had been a nurse, and yet in spite of that, or maybe because of that, she had never wanted to discuss any aspect of her illness and what it meant. Quite possibly, because she knew only too well exactly what it meant.

‘Don’t try to talk, darling,’ he said. ‘Don’t tire yourself. You just rest and I’ll stay here beside you.’

He squeezed her hand and felt her squeeze back. But it was almost imperceptible. Her eyes were closed. She seemed to be drifting off again. After a bit, he wasn’t sure if she was sleeping or unconscious.

He rang the bell for a nurse. One came very quickly, leaning over Moira and gently taking her pulse.

‘It’s hard to say, really, exactly what’s going on,’ she said. ‘But as long as she’s peaceful, not in too much pain, not distressed, well...’ She straightened up from the bed, just a young woman, a slip of a thing with long pale hair tied back in a ponytail, little more than a girl, and yet doing this extraordinary job. Kelly didn’t know what to say to her.

The nurse turned to face him directly. ‘Well, that’s the best we can hope for now,’ she said quietly.

Kelly nodded. Jennifer and Paula returned as the nurse left. Kelly saw that they both looked worn out.

‘Look, I’ll stay with your mother tonight,’ he told them. ‘Why don’t you both go home, get some rest. Neither of you got much last night, did you?’

The girls, in particular Jennifer, protested at first but eventually gave in to their obvious exhaustion and agreed to leave. At least this is something I can do for them, Kelly thought, at least I can give them the chance to rest.

One of the nurses brought him a cushion and a blanket, and he settled in the armchair by the bed, watching Moira for any change. Her breathing was shallow. Her eyes were closed. She lay very still. Kelly found the whole situation quite terrifying.

His chair was not particularly comfortable and his mind was in turmoil. He did not think there was a chance of him sleeping a wink, and indeed he did not want to sleep. He wanted to watch over Moira. That was, after all, what he was there for. He could hardly bear to think about what she must be going through, lying there just clinging on to life. Periodically a nurse visited to check on Moira. Once, she asked him if he would like a cup of tea, an offer he gratefully accepted. Midnight came and went, then one, two and three o’clock. But from then on, it seemed that he was not aware of very much until Jennifer returned in the morning. He was disturbed by the sound of a door opening and someone moving around in the room, and he opened his eyes to see her there, just as she gave Moira a kiss on her forehead.

‘Hi,’ he said, rubbing his fingers over his stubbled chin and his tongue across furry teeth. ‘I... I must have dozed off.’

‘That’s allowed, John.’ Jennifer smiled at him. She looked like a different person this morning from the exhausted young woman he had sent off home the previous night. Her skin glowed, her hair shone from an obviously recent shampoo, and her eyes were bright and clear. She seemed totally refreshed.

Kelly glanced at his watch. It was only 7.30 a.m. But Jennifer had obviously managed a good night’s sleep. Kelly wondered at the resilience of youth.

‘How’s she been?’ Jennifer asked.

Kelly hesitated for a moment. The bitter truth was that he hadn’t a clue. Although he would not have believed it possible, he must have slept for at least four hours, and even based on the time he had been awake before that, just sitting and watching Moira, he did not know how to answer Jennifer’s question.

How had Moira been? Asleep or unconscious? He did not know the answer to that. Waiting to die? That was the correct answer, he reckoned, but it was one you did not give. Not in this family, anyway. Maybe not in most. Kelly didn’t know. He had never spent the night sitting beside the bed of a dying woman before. And he rather hoped he never would again.

‘The same,’ he said, eventually.

‘Ah.’ Jennifer smiled tenderly down at her near-comatose mother. Kelly stood up, stretching aching, cramped limbs. One leg had gone to sleep. He held on to the foot of the bed as he made his way clumsily over to where Jennifer was standing.

‘Thank you for staying with Mum,’ she said.

Kelly just nodded. He didn’t reckon he deserved any thanks. Not with his track record.

He stared down at the recumbent figure on the bed. He couldn’t explain quite what he felt. At that moment, he possibly loved Moira more than ever before. And yet, at the same time, he could barely recognise her as the woman he had shared his life with. She had changed quite dramatically since he had last seen her, only a couple of days earlier. She was so horribly thin, wasted really, and deathly pale. But it wasn’t that. It was more that the very core of her no longer seemed to be there. As if her soul had somehow already left her. She just didn’t seem to be Moira any more.