Читать книгу The Woman at 72 Derry Lane: A gripping, emotional page turner that will make you laugh and cry - Carmel Harrington - Страница 15

Eli burst in from the hall, whispering to me and Dad that something was wrong with Mam. We walked out and she was ashen, silent, nodding over and over again, as she listened to the call.

‘What is it, love?’ Dad asked and she ignored us, or maybe just didn’t hear him, I don’t know. Minutes felt like hours as we waited for her to hang up and tell us what was wrong. Whatever it was, it had trouble written all over it. She walked slowly into the kitchen, shaking and tearful as she sank into one of the chairs.

‘Give your mother some space. Put the kettle on, Skye,’ Dad said and Mam reached her hands out to clasp his.

‘It’s Aunty Paula. She’s got cancer. Breast cancer. They have to do a full mastectomy next week.’

Dad sank into a chair beside Mam and he kept shaking his head, as if that would make the words go away and not be true. It was the first time that anyone in our family had ever been sick and we were all thrown by it. I felt panic and terror battle their way into my head. And looking at my family, we were all feeling the same.

The next week went by in a blur. Mam went down to Sneem and daily phone calls came with more damning updates. Aunty Paula’s cancer had spread to her lymph nodes. It was aggressive. More surgery. Mastectomies. Long talks with doctors were had, discussing treatment options. Paula would need chemotherapy and then radiotherapy.

‘A long hard road ahead of her,’ Mam told us.

When Mam came home two weeks later, her shoulders sagging, she looked older. Lines seemed to have sprung up on her face and there was a sprinkling of grey in her hair that hadn’t been there two weeks ago. The whispering in corners began again. When they called Eli and me into the good sitting room we stood close together, shoulder to shoulder, bracing ourselves for the bad news.

I whispered to Eli, ‘I think she’s dead.’ And he nodded in response and reached out to hold my hand.

I can remember looking down at our fingers clasped together and thinking that it was years since we’d done that. We used to play outside as kids, hand in hand, skipping around our garden as we came up with new adventures. I’d forgotten how much comfort I took from that hand. I felt the welts on his fingers, earned from his many woodwork projects. And when he squeezed my hand tight, I wished we were kids again and could skip our way to another land. Lose ourselves in our imaginations, far away from the damning imminent news.

But we were wrong. Thank goodness we were wrong, because Aunty Paula was kind and we loved her dearly.

‘Things are tough for Paula right now,’ Mam said tearfully. ‘She has a big mortgage and money is tight …’ she stopped and looked to Dad for help. But he was silent too and just looked at us, twisting his hands.

Eli got it before me, as he always did. ‘We are going to give our holiday money to Aunty Paula, aren’t we?’

They nodded silently.

Paradise lost once more.

Like the last time, my immediate reaction wasn’t very nice. I wish I was the kind of person who jumped right in on occasions like these and said with grace, ‘it doesn’t matter.’ But all I could think about in that moment was the big cinema screen that overlooked the outdoor swimming pool on the mahoosive cruise liner and the first kiss that Brad would steal under the stars. All I could feel was bitter disappointment.

I remained silent, selfish as I was, and made my parents feel worse than they already did.

‘We’ve only paid a deposit, so we’d just lose that. I don’t think in any conscience I could head off on a cruise, spend thousands, knowing that …’ Mam started to cry.

Dad looked at Eli and me, imploring us with his eyes to be generous and kind and not give Mam a hard time. ‘That money from the cruise would pay her mortgage for six months. Give her time to catch her breath after the surgery. She’s chemo to face, not to mention the radiotherapy.’

Eli squeezed my hand again and I sneaked a glance at him, trying to work out where he was with the news.

‘It has to be a decision that we all agree on. Everyone in this family has contributed to that saving fund. And if one of you says no, we’ll leave it at that.’

I felt elated for a moment. I can say no. And who could blame me. I mean, we gave up our money the last time for Dad’s car. Aunty Paula wouldn’t want us to miss our holiday. She’s lovely.

Lovely. Aunty Paula is lovely.

Memories of all those times she’d come to stay. Arms loaded down with all the gifts she had spoiled us with over the years. Arms open wide for all the warm hugs and cuddles she doled out with that same generosity. Only last month she’d sent down a new top for me that she’d noticed in a shop near her. Her note said, ‘It’s just your colour and will look gorgeous on you.’ And it did too. I wore it out the other night to the cinema with the girls and they all raved about it.

Oh Aunty Paula. Of course we had to give her the money.

I felt eyes upon me and realised that my family were waiting for me to speak. ‘It’s just another plot twist,’ I said and walked over to hug Mam, who was crying again. ‘We’ll start saving and, sure, what do they say? Third time lucky. Aunty Paula is more important.’

Everyone nodded in agreement at my words. But we didn’t put the jar back on the dresser for a long time. We lost our saving mojo, I suppose, and although none of us said it, we kind of thought, what’s the point?

Mam’s potato parer was relegated to the back of the cutlery drawer and Saturdays became takeaway nights again. Actually, we ate a lot of takeaways that year, because Mam was away from home a lot and Dad was at work. Days became weeks and then months as chemo treatments rolled by. Then came the radiotherapy. It all took its toll on Aunty Paula and on all of us. Mam in particular. It was a horrible year, all in all. I don’t think we smiled much, at least not that often.

Then one evening Dad came home with a scratch card for Mam ‘Might give her a lift,’ he whispered to Eli and I. She wasn’t herself, worn down with tiredness and worry about her baby sister.

The gods were looking down kindly, because Mam suddenly shouted, ‘I won €50!’

We all whooped in pleasure for her.

‘You should book yourself a facial, you love having a pamper day,’ Dad told her.

‘Or get yourself that nice top you mentioned you saw in Carrig Donn,’ I added.

‘Here, Mam, you should do both,’ Eli slid something across the table towards her. ‘Here’s another twenty to add to the fifty. I sold one of my garden benches today.’

All of Eli’s practice was beginning to pay off and his joinery was widely acclaimed as exceptional. Mam looked at us all and smiled through watery eyes. Then it was like Groundhog Day because she stood up and walked over to the dresser and crouched down low, looking through the over-stuffed press.

‘Where is it? I know I left it here somewhere …’ she mumbled and then, ‘Ha! Got you!’

She looked at each of us. We couldn’t take our eyes off her and then she placed the holiday jar back in its rightful place on top of the dresser. She held up her lottery ticket and Eli’s twenty euro, saying, ‘Third time lucky, that’s what you said, Skye.’ She placed them into the slot and I felt excitement shiver down my spine.

This time we will get to paradise. I just know it.