‘Then stop crying.’
‘Yes… but it may not work.’
‘And it may,’ I said positively. ‘Where’s the gin?’
She laughed shakily. She poured two glasses. I still didn’t much care for gin but it was all she liked. We clinked to the future and she began talking about paella for lunch.
Rachel was half sitting, half lying, on a small sofa that had been repositioned in the sitting room so that she could look straight and closely into the fish tank. I sat beside her and asked how she felt.
‘Did my mum tell you about the transplant?’ she said.
‘Terrific news.’
‘I might be able to run again.’
Running, it was clear from her pervading lassitude, must have seemed at that point as distant as the moon.
Rachel said, ‘I begged to come home to see the fishes. I have to go back tonight, though. I hoped you would come. I begged God.’
‘You knew I would come.’
‘I meant today, while I’m home.’
‘I’ve been busy since I saw you on Tuesday.’
‘I know. Mummy said so. The nurses tell me when you phone every day.’
Pegotty was crawling all around the floor, growing in size and agility and putting everything unsuitable in his mouth; making his sister laugh.
‘He’s so funny,’ she said. ‘They won’t let him come to the hospital. I begged to see him and the fishes. They told me the transplant is going to make me feel sick, so I wanted to come home first.’
‘Yes,’ I said.
Linda produced steamy rice with bits of chicken and shrimps, which we all ate with spoons.
‘What’s wrong with your hand?’ Linda asked. ‘In places it’s almost black.’
‘It’s only a bruise. It got a bit squashed.’
‘You’ve got sausage fingers,’ Rachel said.
‘They’ll be all right tomorrow.’
Linda returned to the only important subject. ‘The Swiss donor,’ she said, ‘is older than I am! He has three children of his own. He’s a schoolteacher… he sounds a nice man, and they say he’s so pleased to be going to give Rachel some of his bone marrow.’
Rachel said, ‘I wish it had been Sid’s bone marrow.’
I’d had myself tested, right at the beginning, but I’d been about as far from a match as one could get. Neither Linda nor Joe had been more than fifty per cent compatible.
‘They say he’s a ninety per cent match,’ Linda said. ‘You never get a hundred per cent, even from siblings. Ninety per cent is great.’
She was trying hard to be positive. I didn’t know enough to put a bet on ninety per cent. It sounded fine to me; and no one was going to kill off Rachel’s own defective bone marrow if they didn’t believe they could replace it.
‘They’re going to put me into a bubble,’ Rachel said. ‘It’s a sort of plastic tent over my bed. I won’t be able to touch the Swiss man, except through the plastic. And he doesn’t speak English, even. He speaks German. Danke schön. I’ve learned that, to say to him. Thank you very much.’
‘He’s a lucky man,’ I said.
Linda, clearing the plates and offering ice cream for dessert, asked if I would stay with Rachel while she took Pegotty out for a short walk in fresh air.
‘Of course.’
‘I won’t be long.’
When she’d gone, Rachel and I sat on the sofa and watched the fish.
‘You see that one?’ Rachel pointed. ‘That’s the one you brought on Tuesday. Look how fast he swims! He’s faster than all the others.’
The black and silver angel fish flashed through the tank, fins waving with vigor.
‘He’s you,’ Rachel said. ‘He’s Sid.’
I teased her, ‘I thought half of them were Sid.’
‘Sid is always the fastest one. That’s Sid.’ She pointed. ‘The others aren’t Sid anymore.’
‘Poor fellows.’
She giggled. ‘I wish I could have the fishes in the hospital. Mummy asked, but they said no.’
‘Pity.’
She sat loosely cuddled by my right arm but held my other hand, the plastic one, pulling it across towards her. That hand still wasn’t working properly, though a fresh battery and a bit of tinkering had restored it to half-life.
After a long, silent pause, she said, ‘Are you afraid of dying?’
Another pause. ‘Sometimes,’ I said.
Her voice was quiet, almost murmuring. It was a conversation all in a low key, without haste.
She said, ‘Daddy says when you were a jockey you were never afraid of anything.’
‘Are you afraid?’ I asked.
‘Yes, but I can’t tell Mummy. I don’t like her crying.’
‘Are you afraid of the transplant?’
Rachel nodded.
‘You will die without it,’ I said matter-of-factly. ‘I know you know that.’
‘What’s dying like?’
‘I don’t know. No one knows. Like going to sleep, I should think.’ If you were lucky, of course.
‘It’s funny to think of not being here,’ Rachel said. ‘I mean, to think of being a space.’
‘The transplant will work.’
‘Everyone says so.’
‘Then believe it. You’ll be running by Christmas.’
She smoothed her fingers over my hand. I could feel the faint vibrations distantly in my forearm. Nothing, I thought, was ever entirely lost.
She said, ‘Do you know what I’ll be thinking, lying there in the bubble feeling awfully sick?’
‘What?’
‘Life’s a bugger.’
I hugged her, but gently. ‘You’ll do fine.’
‘Yes, but tell me.’
‘Tell you what?’
‘How to be brave.’
What a question, I thought. I said, ‘When you’re feeling awfully sick, think about something you like doing. You won’t feel as bad if you don’t think about how bad you feel.’
She thought it over. ‘Is that all?’
‘It’s quite a lot. Think about fishes. Think about Pegotty pulling off his socks and putting them in his mouth. Think about things you’ve enjoyed.’
‘Is that what you do?’
‘It’s what I do if something hurts, yes. It does work.’
‘What if nothing hurts yet, but you’re going into something scary?’
‘Well… it’s all right to be frightened. No one can help it. You just don’t have to let being frightened stop you.’
‘Are you ever frightened?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’ Too often, I thought.
She said lazily, but with certainty, ‘I bet you’ve never been so frightened you didn’t do something. I bet you’re always brave.’
I was startled. ‘No… I’m not.’
‘But Daddy said…’
‘I wasn’t afraid of riding in races,’ I agreed. ‘Try me in a pit full of snakes, though, and I wouldn’t be so sure.’
‘What about a bubble?’
‘I’d go in there promising myself I’d come out running.’
She smoothed my hand. ‘Will you come and see me?’
‘In the bubble?’ I asked. ‘Yes, if you like.’
‘You’ll make me brave.’
I shook my head. ‘It will come from inside you. You’ll see.’
We went on watching the fish. My namesake flashed his fins and seemed to have endless stamina.
‘I’m going into the bubble tomorrow,’ Rachel murmured. ‘I don’t want to cry when they put me in there.’
‘Courage is lonely,’ I said.
She looked up into my face. ‘What does that mean?’
It was too strong a concept, I saw, for someone of nine. I tried to make things simpler.
‘You’ll be alone in the bubble,’ I said, ‘so make it your own palace. The bubble is to keep you safe from infection — safe from dragons. You won’t cry.’