Now she found herself here, in a strange place. With a fledgling business, living in a caravan in a wild wood, financial reserves scarce. Without a husband, without a family, caring for a small boy who depended on her entirely.
The only thing that kept her sane was Joe. Joe, who she’d not even known for that long. Joe, who was younger than her and yet somehow also older than her. Joe, who had become a one-man safety net.
Now she is sitting here, in this waiting room, ready to start her first course of chemotherapy. Her doctors are optimistic, but she is busy worrying about what will happen to Jamie when she dies. There is a solid weight of advance grief weighing her down – an unbearable anxiety about the future that refuses to bow down to common sense or pep talks or medical miracles.
She is terrified. She watches Jamie playing with the abacus, so innocent and accepting and unaware of the anvil about to fall from the sky and destroy the small pleasures of his life, and tears slide down her cheeks.
Joe pulls her into his body, and crushes her tight. She feels strong arms around her, and soothing fingers in her hair, and a gentle kiss on her forehead.
‘It’s going to be all right,’ he says, over and over again. ‘I promise you, Geraldine. It’s going to be all right. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere as long as you two need me. It’s going to be all right.’
The nurse calls her name from a list on a clipboard. She pulls away from Joe, and he wipes the tears from her face. He holds her steady, and looks deep into her eyes, and says: ‘You are stronger than you think. You will get through this. You have too much to live for.’
She nods, and decides to try and believe him, and walks unsteadily towards her fate.
Chapter 22
We all take a communal gulp of the Bushmills after that, apart from Geraldine herself, who simply looks at it wistfully.
‘I have to assume he was right,’ I say, breaking the mournful silence as the emotion washes over us all. ‘Because you’re still here and obviously thriving.’
She smiles, and happiness shines from her eyes.
‘Yes, I am. He was right. The treatment was brutal, and I couldn’t have done it without him. Not just the practical stuff – looking after Jamie, keeping this place on track, ferrying me backwards and forwards from the hospital, looking after me when I was sick. It was the mental side of it as well – he kept me going. Kept me strong. Held my hair back when I was puking, put me to bed, never let me feel alone. Not for a single second. As much as the doctors, I think he saved my life.
‘I look back at it now, and wonder how I coped – how I got through it all. It really was a terrible year. But the answer is that Joe stuck with me. He was my best friend, and a surrogate dad to Jamie, a maid, and a nurse, all rolled into one. He was … extraordinary.’
I see Michael looking awed, and meet Belinda’s eyes. She nods, and I smile. Yes. Joe was always extraordinary.
‘If you don’t mind me asking,’ says Belinda, leaning forward, ‘was there anything … more, between you and Joe?’
Geraldine’s gaze flickers to mine, and I quickly add: ‘It’s OK if there was. I don’t expect him to have lived like a saint, and it would be perfectly understandable.’
I say that, and I mainly mean it, but there is also a small and undeniable growl of anguish lurking inside me. By the time all of this was happening, I was on my own rocky road to recovery, with Joe’s memory smothered beneath a blanket of denial that I’d been convinced was for my own good – we were both treading treacherous paths, and I don’t like or admire the tiny part of me that is jealous, no matter what generous words I utter.
‘No, there wasn’t,’ she replies, then sighs and rubs her tummy. ‘But I’d be lying if I said the thought never crossed my mind. Joe was … well, he was my hero. And he was attractive, anyone could see that. He was younger than me, but it never felt that way – he’s one of those people with an old soul, isn’t he? Younger in years but not in life experience.’
She takes a deep breath, and continues: ‘If I’m totally honest with you, and myself, I was more than a little bit in love with him. I suppose I did imagine a world where he stayed, and we raised Jamie together, and lived happily ever after. But that was never what he wanted. There was one night … one night when I’d been told the tests were clear, at least for the time being. We celebrated, had a few drinks, stayed up late after Jamie was in bed. That night, I did … well, I kissed him. It was awful.’
She looks up at us, and laughs at our expressions.
‘Not the kiss! The aftermath. He was so gentle, and so kind – but he basically told me that he couldn’t love me that way. That his heart was still with you, and that he was sorry but it probably always would be.’
I stare off into the starlit sky, and bite my lip, and lay my hands on the arms of the chair to settle myself. I feel like I have to hold on tight, or I will float loose, slip my earthly moorings, disappear into the moon-drenched night air like a lost helium balloon.
It is sorrowful and tragic that he was holding on to my memory – but it spikes me with a natural high, a sense of elation and renewed belief in the rightness of my current quest. I am looking for Joe, and I will not stop.
‘He did have a fling or two, I think,’ she says, sounding amused. ‘He was very popular with the surfer girls. Nothing serious, ever, but maybe a bit of flirtation every now and then? He was the kind of man women wanted to flirt with, and he was so good at it – no matter how old they were or what their situation was, he could somehow make them feel good. I remember him chatting to an old lady on one of those mobility scooters in town one afternoon, and she zoomed on her way with a blush and a giggle that made her seem like a teenager!’
I can picture the scene, and I can imagine the salty-skinned suntanned surfer girls looking at him longingly. And I genuinely don’t begrudge him that.
‘So what happened?’ asks Michael, eagerly. ‘Why did he leave?’
‘A combination of things, really. After that night – after the kiss – he was a bit more wary around me. For the first time ever, things felt awkward. I wanted to take it back, but obviously I couldn’t – it was like I’d muddied the waters somehow. Tried to take things in a direction he didn’t feel comfortable with. Whatever the reason, there was always an undercurrent of tension after that. He was more … careful.’
‘It’s because it would have meant too much,’ I say, for some reason certain that I’m right. ‘A casual fling with a passing tourist wouldn’t have meant anything. But you? That would have been different. I know it sounds odd, but I’m sure that’s the case – he wasn’t ready for anything meaningful, and you would definitely have been meaningful. In a way he pulled back because he was already in too deep, if that makes sense?’
She nods, and a look of perfect understanding passes between us.
‘I think that’s true. He was all-in as a friend – but he couldn’t handle more than that, not at that stage in his life. He was still in so much pain of his own, wasn’t he? And once he had an inkling that I wanted more than friendship, he retreated. Well, that or he just didn’t fancy an old lady like me!’