‘No, there’s no need for that. They’re taking me to the Red Lion for lunch.’
‘Oh lovely, Marianne. You will enjoy seeing them.’
By eleven thirty she was beginning to feel tired, or perhaps more likely, was still feeling tired after her late night and so she settled into her special tip-back chair – another surrender to practicality over aesthetics – and told Anna that she was going to have a nap and that she should wake her at twelve fifteen so she would be ready for when they arrived.
She shut her eyes but, unusually, sleep proved to be elusive. She kept wondering how it was going to be with Callum and Helen. She knew from personal experience that the etiquette of AD is never easy. If you visit a terminally ill patient, there are various possible responses. Cheerful optimism and denial is the one friends and relations find easiest. Commiserations and anger may well be justified if the approaching end is clearly premature. With the gradual approach of death for the elderly, at least a postponement can be hoped for: ‘I’m sure you’ll still be with us for Christmas, darling.’ But with a voluntary death it’s hard to find the right response. Marianne was anxious to make it as easy as possible for Callum and Helen; that way it would also be easier for her.
In the event, she should not have worried too much. When Callum and Helen arrived, and after the usual greetings, Helen discreetly left the room with Anna, and Callum sat down next to Marianne and took her hand. ‘Mum, there’s no need for you to do this, you know.’
‘I think it’s time.’
‘Is there some special reason? Have you been falling again?’
‘I did fall, but it’s not that.’
‘So, you are OK now?’
‘You will understand when you get to my age.’
‘You’re not so old, Mum, you could live to be a hundred.’
‘I don’t want to live to a hundred.’
‘Is there a problem with Anna?’
‘No, Anna is as wonderful as ever.’
‘But you haven’t told her about your decision?’
‘No.’
‘Doesn’t that mean you’re not quite sure whether you want to do this?’
‘No, I will tell her in time. I want to get through the stage two process first and then I will tell her.’
‘She’ll be very unhappy about it.’
‘Perhaps not as unhappy as you imagine.’
‘I think you should take time to think about this a bit more.’
‘I have had plenty of time to think about it and I have made my decision.’
‘I don’t feel comfortable about it, Mum.’
‘Well, we have talked about it several times and you always said you would support me when the time came.’
‘Yes, I know, but I wasn’t expecting it suddenly like this – out of the blue…’
‘It may be out of the blue to you but to me it’s been a decision I’ve been thinking about for a long time.’
Callum got up and went to the window. Marianne studied his profile. She had to admit it wasn’t a strong face: that weakness of the chin and slightly anxious look. A desire to please those around him. His heart was in the right place but it was not difficult to see where the path of least resistance would lead on this occasion.
‘So how are you surviving London?’ Marianne asked. ‘It’s been nearly three years now. Not hankering for the sunshine?’
‘No, London is fine, although the job hasn’t turned out quite as I expected, as you know. But it’s a really exciting change living in London after nearly twenty years in Australia.’
‘Well, I’m glad you’re managing alright, darling.’
‘Mum, this is nothing to do with Helen and I, is it? You know we have no plans to go back to Australia.’
‘No, darling, absolutely nothing to do with you and Helen. When you get to my age you will understand there comes a time when you don’t want to go on anymore.’
‘I know a lot of people do it nowadays but I’m not sure why you need to do it now.’
‘Well, you wouldn’t want me to die like my poor father, would you?’
‘That was different, Mum. He had cancer. I wish AD had been around for him and of course I think it is sensible that AD is now available. It’s just… well… when it comes to your own mother…’
‘Well, technically I am your grandmother and at your age you’re lucky to have a grandmother still alive.’
‘Well, you’re the only mother I have ever known so that’s completely irrelevant – I don’t know why you even mention it.’ There was a strong tone of resentment in Callum’s voice and for a while neither spoke. Marianne was not sure why she had suddenly mentioned that she was not his biological mother. Was she trying to loosen the bond between them? It was not a subject Callum ever liked to discuss but suddenly Marianne felt the need to ask him some questions.
‘Callum, darling, has it bothered you in your life that I wasn’t your real mother?’
‘Mum, you know I always think of you as my real mother.’
‘I know, but tell me truthfully. You’ve never seemed very curious about your actual mother.’
‘I don’t know about that. You’ve told me about her often enough.’
‘Have I?’
‘Of course you have, but she just comes across as a rebellious teenager so I always found it hard to see her in the role of a mother.’
‘You don’t have any recollection of her, do you?’
‘Mum, I was only eighteen months old when she died; no one remembers anything at that age.’
‘No, I suppose not. Isabelle was a good mother to you in her way. She loved you desperately. It’s probably difficult for you to understand but she was quite brave to have you.’
‘You mean not to have me aborted?’
‘Most girls would have done so at her age. It wasn’t such an obvious choice for a girl of her background to go through with having a baby at seventeen.’
‘So would you have let her? I mean, abort the baby?’
‘If she had wanted to she would have gone ahead and done it. That’s the sort of person she was. We might never have known about it. She wouldn’t even have told Andy – although she might have just casually mentioned it to us afterwards – she was capable of doing that.’
‘Mum, why are we talking about this?’
‘I need to know. Deep down you must have sometimes wished you had your own natural parents? Even Andy. He may have been a bit wild but if it hadn’t been for the accident I think he might in the end have made a good father.’
‘Mum, this is fantasy. My natural parents were dead before I had a chance to ever know them. You and Dad adopted me. Of course, I never understood why you two split up and I would have preferred you to have lived under the same roof, but it’s never mattered to me that you were grandparents. You were just Mum and Dad, and that was it.’
‘I’m glad, darling. Now, you’re supposed to be taking me out to lunch. You’d better go and get Helen, otherwise we will be too late for our table.’
‘Alright, fine, but we need to talk more about your decision after lunch.’
And so, in time-honoured fashion, it was tacitly agreed that they would have lunch without discussing the subject which was the whole purpose of the lunch – lest the lunch should thereby be spoiled.
When the three of them had settled themselves into a quiet corner table at the Red Lion, Callum went to the bar to place their orders and, despite his protests, Helen insisted on going with him to ‘help’. Marianne watched from her corner while an intense whispered conversation took place at the bar, Helen’s face a few inches from Callum’s right ear. Ah, the debriefing, she thought. Looks like Callum is getting the third degree. Not for the first time Marianne wondered if she would have liked Helen more if they had lived in England. Had she always blamed her for taking Callum away?