‘Does he realise who he is?’
‘I don’t think so, not really, but perhaps it doesn’t matter. He enjoys the visits so much – calls him laddie. Asks where his laddie is. He’s always so excited to see him.’
‘Your paper stirred up quite a hornets’ nest,’ said Claire, as Jake settled himself onto a sofa in her elegant drawing room.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘all the old arguments are being rehearsed again. I see things in a different light now – but you can’t put the clock back. Nothing much will change.’
Claire brought a drink over to Jake and sat down in her usual chair. ‘I’m afraid you’re probably right. AD has become too well established. And there seems to be a movement in some quarters saying that all this fuss is because the law is too restrictive.’
‘Yes – some say AD on demand would simplify the issue.’
‘It would be ironic if that was the outcome of the inquiry.’
‘It will come eventually, I’m convinced. No “safeguards” – just a right to die.’
‘Followed shortly by a duty to die.’
‘You think?’
‘Why not? After all, we have a duty to be healthy now – society and the state demand it. Why should the state resist if people begin to feel they have a duty to die?’
‘The slippery slope?’
‘Accept it – perhaps we do have such a duty, and anyway, society won’t accept the burden of the old for ever.’
‘You know, poor Marianne was caught up in the drama – she was kept waiting at the clinic while the bosses in Holland wondered what to do.’
‘I never meant you to rush off to Cambridge and throw yourself at Marianne’s feet.’
‘It was Anna who persuaded us. It was a horrible business – Leah was traumatised. Anna is still in England, you know – she’s got another job. She and Leah have become quite close.’
‘Are you still with Leah?’
‘Absolutely. She didn’t get the Cambridge place that Marianne dreamed of – but she’s got a place at UCL and she’s very happy with that.’
‘You realise she’ll probably dump you once she starts there?’
Jake laughed. ‘So different from your sister, Granny – not a romantic bone in your body. You may be right, but I certainly hope not. Leah is really important to me.’
‘She cost you your job.’
‘That was Helen’s doing. A formal complaint. Sexual exploitation of an intern. Leah was mortified – it’s caused a real breach between her and her mother.’
‘So what about Callum? Tell me about him finding his real father.’
‘Yes, before she died, Marianne confessed to Callum that Andy had lived on after the crash that killed Isabelle – but she also said he died fifteen years ago. Callum is certain she believed that, but he decided to find out a bit more about what had happened. He discovered that Andy had lived with his mother until he was about forty; and then it seems he had a succession of strokes and ended up in a home in Glasgow. There he lived as a mentally retarded semi-invalid. His mother died about five years ago and since then he was not known to have any living relatives.’
‘Quite a sad story.’
‘Yes – so anyway, when Callum found him, and proved to the authorities that he was Andy’s son, he managed to get him moved to a home on the edge of London where he visits him several times a week. Just sits with him, talks to him – sometimes, he said, they play simple games. Apparently, Andy doesn’t understand that Callum is his son but he seems to appreciate the visits.’
‘What a dutiful man.’
‘Yes, really noble. Leah’s been with him a few times, seeing her lost grandfather, but I think she finds it too depressing.’
‘And Helen?’
‘She’s gone back to Australia. They are having a period of separation – to use Callum’s words.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
‘No, but I feel sorry for Callum. Marianne may have thought she was doing him a favour but I think the manner of her death was more traumatic for him than he let on.’
‘It was to do with Marianne that I got you over today. Before she died she sent me a last message – I’ve got a print of it here.’
Jake took the piece of paper from Claire and began to read.
My dearest Claire,
This is a final goodbye. It’s midnight now and Callum and Helen have gone to bed. Tomorrow morning we go to the clinic.
Please don’t feel sorry for me. I’m going to die the way I want. Callum will send you all the diaries and my notes. Try to persuade Jake to finish the project – I had thought of making a novel out of it – maybe he’d like to have a go. And tell him I hope it works out for him and Leah and I’m not sorry for encouraging her. I know I’m a foolish old woman – but I loved when I was very young and you don’t forget.
‘I hope you never do what she did, Granny. Unless you really have to.’
‘I doubt I would have the courage. What Marianne did may not have been necessary but I believe it was brave.’
Jake nodded; he remembered Marianne’s little speech to him when he had visited her.
‘Well, what do you think?’ said Claire. ‘You don’t have to decide immediately, but I am prepared to pay you a salary for six months if you want to give it a go. Before you get another job.’
‘I don’t need time to think – that’s an incredibly generous offer.’
‘It will be for Marianne. In her memory. A tribute from her family. Now you had better go. Come back on Monday and we’ll work out the details.’
‘I will,’ said Jake, ‘and thank you again.’ Kissing his grandmother goodbye, he walked down the graceful staircase, let himself out through the front door and stepped down into the darkening street.
Acknowledgements
I would like to express my gratitude to all those writers and bloggers who have written so eloquently about their thoughts and experiences as they approached their own imminent death, whether voluntary or involuntary, and have thereby given me some small insight into what it would be like to be in that position.
Aspects of the legislation imagined in this novel are taken from the Assisted Dying Bill, introduced in the House of Lords in July 2014, although I have extended it beyond those who are terminally ill. A number of countries have enacted legislation comparable to that envisaged.
I am greatly indebted to the authors of An American Family in Moscow (Little Brown, 1975) for descriptions of life in the USSR in the early 1970s, which inform the early chapters of this book. I have quoted the late Sir Terry Pratchett from an article he wrote for the Sunday Times (26-06-11); the quotation about the Liverpool Pathway is taken from the Daily Telegraph (01-11-12). There were many similar articles around that time.
I am indebted to Professor Innes Merabishvili of Tbilisi State University for introducing me to Georgia and the beauty of the Caucasus, where I discovered both Lermontov and the delights of Georgian cooking.
I would like to thank consultant anaesthetist Dr Eric Lawes for his advice on the end of life medical procedures described. Within my own family I would like to thank my daughter Emily who typed the first draft for me and offered advice; my daughter Sophie whose image adorns the front cover; my wife Robyn who has had to put up with all my preoccupations while writing the book and other members of my family for their ideas and encouragement.
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