Page 33 of A Found Family at the Cornish Country Hospital

‘I told you, I’m going in by myself. I’ve got to start being more independent if I’m going to get back to uni.’ When she still tried to protest, he held up his hand. ‘Mum,please, we’ve talked about this.’

‘Okay.’ The woman sat back down with a thud, her eyes following her son’s every move as he said goodbye to Reuben, and then slowly wheeled himself towards the consulting-room door, finally disappearing from view.

‘Thank you for talking to him about the wheelchair rugby.’ The boy’s mother reached out to Reuben, and took hold of his hand. ‘He’s been broken-hearted since the op, thinking he’ll never play sports again. But he’s been in the home gym all week, since they said they’re going to start a group at the club, working on his upper body strength. He wouldn’t have spoken to the coach, or started to get excited about things again, without you and your sponsorship.’

‘It was nothing, Sam, honestly. The sponsorship helps me out with my tax bill.’ Reuben shrugged as if what he’d done for Ben really was nothing, but Isla had seen with her own eyes how much it had obviously meant to the boy. ‘And he’s too talented not to keep up his rugby.’

‘I can’t tell you how much happier he’s been, and like he said, he’s making plans to go back to uni now too. I’m trying to focus on the fact that he’s got no evidence of disease at the moment, and that we’re moving ahead now he’s getting a prosthetic, but all of that was really hard to do when he was so down. Meeting you has made so much difference to him.’ Sam squeezed Reuben’s hand again. ‘He’s getting so independent again, and I’m sat here twiddling my thumbs. So I might as well go and grab myself a coffee.’

‘Make sure you get yourself some of this before you go.’ Reuben inclined his head towards the box he was carrying. ‘I remember how I ate my mum out of house and home when I was Ben’s age, and there’s lots of good stuff today, including some strawberries. I know he likes those.’

‘Thank you.’ Sam stood up and planted a kiss on Reuben’s cheek, before taking some things from his box. ‘Can I get you a coffee?’

‘No, thanks. Just go and enjoy having five minutes to yourself. I’ll see you both soon.’ It was only when Reuben turned away from Sam and set the box down, that he spotted Isla.

‘Are you following me?’ He grinned and her pulse seemed to quicken in the annoying way it always did whenever he was around.

‘I was about to ask the same of you. Let’s face it, you could reasonably expect to find me here, but I can’t say the same of you.’ Even as she said the words, she knew they weren’t true. It was typical of what she’d seen of Reuben that he’d come along and donate produce to patients in the cancer unit.

‘I come in a couple of times a week with leftover stock. On Tuesdays I leave a couple of boxes for the patients having chemo, and on Fridays I split them between the radiotherapy and counselling waiting areas.’

‘The world would be a nicer place if there were more people like you in it.’ The words were out of her mouth and hanging in the air before she could stop them, and a wave of heat flushed up her neck, staining her cheeks.

‘Not half as nice as it would be if there were more people like you, but a one-off is even more precious.’ From anyone else it would have sounded unbearably cheesy, the chat-up line of someone trying way too hard, but somehow Reuben made it sound as though he meant every word. Although that didn’t stop her cheeks going even hotter. ‘How are you doing?’

Reuben had taken the seat beside her and lowered his voice, but she could still feel the eyes of everyone in the waiting room on her. Even theclick clackof the knitting needles had stopped, and she suddenly understood what it must feel like to be a goldfish in a bowl.

Isla glanced at her watch. ‘I’ve still got fifteen minutes until my appointment, and I could do with a bit of fresh air.’

‘Let’s go then.’

The area outside The Thornberry Centre was probably the nicest part of the hospital. There was a pretty garden, with raised planters, in a hexagonal pattern, flanked by six benches. In the centre of the garden was a fountain and, at the furthest end from the building, a bronze anchor with a plaque beneath it, engraved with the word ‘Hope’. Isla had sometimes sought refuge in the garden when she’d taken a break during a traumatic shift in A&E, and it had always filled her with a sense of peace.

‘You made such a difference to that boy’s life.’ Isla sat on the third bench, and Reuben took a seat next to her.

‘It was nothing special.’

‘It was to him. And to his mum.’

‘I’m only trying to repay what I’ve had. Sam’s a single mum and it’s been tough for her since Ben’s diagnosis with osteosarcoma. I think he just needed someone to talk to who wasn’t his mum, or a counsellor, and who was able to be a bit less emotional than the other people around him. When I had some tough times, and I couldn’t talk to Mum or Anthony about them, I was really grateful that I had Jase and Aidan. Especially when my dad died.’

‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure what had happened with your dad, because Aidan and Jase have only really talked about your mum and Anthony.’ Isla had told Reuben things that some of her closest friends didn’t know. But now she thought about it, she hadn’t really given him the chance to tell her anything muchabout his life. She’d assumed he’d had the perfect upbringing, because that was how everyone else’s lives had looked when she was growing up, and she’d been envious that none of her friends had been forced to face the prospect of losing a parent. But Reuben had lost his dad too.

He sighed. ‘I don’t talk about him much, because for a long time he wasn’t a part of my life. He left Mum when he found out I was on the way, and he was never really interested in seeing me. We had patchy contact from when I turned five, but he was always more absent than present.’

‘That must have been hard.’ Isla searched his face as she spoke. She was old enough now to know that the assumptions she’d made about how happy other people’s childhoods were weren’t always true. And she’d come to realise that losing a father who adored you was far better than having one who’d never cared, but Reuben shrugged.

‘Not as much as you’d think. Anthony has filled a lot of that void and he’s been incredibly good to me. Any gaps that were left were more than made up for by having Jase and Aidan, who were like the fun dads, balancing out the serious and stable side I got from Anthony. Then there was mum, and my grandparents. Honestly, no kid could have got more love than me.’ Reuben smiled. ‘It was when my father got back in touch on a more regular basis that things got a bit tougher. He was dying of liver cirrhosis, and I didn’t know how to feel about him, or the fact he was dying. He was a stranger, who suddenly wanted this close relationship. There was such a lot of pressure and I felt guilty because part of me wished he’d never got in touch.’

‘I can understand that. Watching someone slowly fade away is hard enough when you love them.’ Isla swallowed hard.

‘I was so confused and I felt like the worst person in the world because I didn’t want to spend all my time with him, even though we did manage to get closer than we’d ever been. It washard to talk to Mum and Anthony, because they were still so angry about how my dad had treated me. I spent a lot of time with Ricky in the final days, and Jase and Aidan would often come with me. I don’t know what I’d have done without them, because they were the only people I felt I could be completely honest with. I knew it was hurting Mum and I felt terrible about that, but Ricky had no one else. It was such a sorry existence he’d had in the end, and I couldn’t be angry with him any more. He’d messed up his own life, far more than he’d ever messed up mine. When he died, and I discovered he’d left me a substantial amount through a life insurance policy, the guilt I felt about not loving him the way a son should got even worse, and to counter that I started to talk about Ricky like he’d been some kind of saint. I clashed with Mum and Anthony, and even with my grandparents, but Aidan and Jase got me through that too. They listened and they didn’t judge or project how they were feeling about my father on to me. I could so easily have blown the money he left me, but the uncs helped me get my head straight and decide what I wanted to do. It’s how I was able to buy the deli. Being able to help a few other people out, because of the business, makes me feel better about what happened to my dad and that his life wasn’t for nothing after all.’

Isla wanted to tell Reuben that his father’s life had meant so much more than the deli because without him Reuben wouldn’t have existed. But she managed to bite back the words. When she was around him, it was hard to remember what a mess she could create by crossing a line between them, and she had to keep reminding herself why it could so easily end up being a disaster. It was safer to talk about losing their fathers, than to allow how she felt about Reuben to creep into the conversation. ‘Creating a legacy like that for your father is amazing, and it’s what I still want to do for my dad. But I don’t even know if Aidan and Jase want me to be their donor any more.’

‘Have you spoken to them?’

‘I’ve tried. Aidan just keeps telling me that the priority is for me to look after myself.’

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