Page 41 of A Found Family at the Cornish Country Hospital

‘I need to concentrate on myself for the time being, I’m sorry.’ She pushed the mug across the worktop towards him, her throat burning with the effort it took to say the words, when deep down all she wanted was for him to stay. ‘You might be the loveliest person I’ve ever met, Reuben, and I’ve got a feeling I’m going to regret this one day. But it would be far worse if I didn’t do this, and you ended up being the one who was filled withregret. All I can offer is friendship, but I’m not even sure I’ll be that good a friend right now.’

‘Nothing I say is going to change your mind, is it?’ He sounded defeated and she should have been pleased that he was giving up without too much of a fight, but the regret she’d told him she might feel one day was already flooding through her. She just couldn’t let him see it.

‘No, but I need to ask one more thing that I’ve got no right to ask you.’

‘What is it?’

‘Will you tell Aidan and Jase that I’m sorry, but I just can’t keep the promise I made? I’ll pay them back for everything, so they can go ahead with another donor straight away.’

‘Is that what you really want?’

‘It is.’

All Reuben offered in response was a nod, but she knew he’d keep his word. For his uncles’ sake, if not her own. He didn’t turn back as he headed out of the flat, and the click as he shut the front door behind him seemed to echo across the room. The tears that Isla had fought so hard not to cry, slid silently down her face. And when she took out the injection from the fertility, and jabbed it into her leg, she didn’t even feel the needle go in. She was already in far too much pain.

There was something hypnotic about the fountain outside The Thornberry Centre. It was the way the water danced up and out, cascading like diamonds hanging from a chandelier, before re-joining the larger body of water and being re-formed into something entirely different. It was a process Isla felt she needed to go through, physically and mentally, and the counsellingsession she’d just had was another step along that road. As soon as the egg collection was complete, she’d start her treatment with the inhibitors, which would hopefully change things in a physical sense too.

She’d ended up talking to the counsellor about Reuben far more than she’d expected to, as well as working through her feelings about pulling out of the egg donation. Just like Reuben, the counsellor had asked her if she’d spoken to Aidan and Jase about her interpretation of their feelings, and she’d been forced to admit that she hadn’t. When the counsellor had asked if she sometimes used avoidance to prevent herself from getting hurt, or if she pulled back from things she really wanted, before anyone else could, in order to feel she had some kind of control, she’d had to admit both suggestions were true. Unsurprisingly, the counsellor had linked it all back to growing up with a father she’d known she was going to lose. That had been the ultimate lack of control, and it was why she’d tried to choreograph her life ever since, to avoid getting hurt, by pulling back from any situations where there might be a risk of that.

Isla’s counsellor, Jayne, had agreed that her diagnosis had almost certainly triggered the kind of out-of-control feelings she hated, and had suggested that their next step was to develop strategies to try to manage that, without it becoming self-destructive. Jayne had kind eyes and a gentle manner, and she was far too nice to point out that Isla had already pressed the self-destruct button more than once. She hadn’t needed to, because the moment Reuben had walked out of the flat, Isla had wished with all her heart she could take back the things she’d said. She’d been telling the truth when she’d told him she was a mess, the lies had only come when she’d said she didn’t want anything other than friendship. Telling herself she’d done that for his sake had made her feel a tiny bit better, but when Jayne had pointed out that he was a grown man, who didn’tneed protecting, and that it was just Isla protecting herself again, she’d had to admit that was true too.

The droplets of water in the fountain got second chances all the time, and she was still staring at it, holding on to the hope that she might too, when she heard a voice behind her.

‘It’s so peaceful here, isn’t it?’ It was Sarah Vardy, instantly recognisable, yet somehow looking entirely different than before. She was thinner, and there were dark shadows under her eyes, but she seemed far less anxious than she had in the past. She was well-groomed and elegant too, with no sign of the woman who seemed to have given up on even basic hygiene after the death of her mother.

‘It’s lovely. How are you doing?’ Isla turned slightly, as Sarah joined her on the bench.

‘I’m dying. It’s a glioblastoma and I’ve decided not to have any treatment, other than counselling.’

‘Oh Sarah, I’m so sorry.’ There were never any right words at a time like this, and Isla instinctively hugged the older woman close to her. For a moment they didn’t speak; the only sound was the fountain in front of them, and then Sarah pulled away.

‘I’m sorry too, but it’s weird, because the thing I’m most sorry about is not that I’m dying, it’s for all the years I wasted fearing it.’ Her eyes had filled with tears, and she dabbed at them with the crumpled tissue that had been balled up in her fist. ‘I spent so long being terrified of cancer and it stopped me living my life. Fifteen years ago, it stopped me saying yes to going travelling with the only man I’ve ever loved. My mum begged me to go and to enjoy my life while I was young enough to do so. I could have had fifteen amazing years with him, seeing the world. Instead, I stayed inside the walls of my house, thinking I’d be safer there than anywhere else, and the only places I travelled to were hospitals. When my mother was dying, she told me her biggest regret was that she’d never got to see me find happiness. That’swhat I’m sorry for. I cheated myself out of so much because of a fear of something I could never have controlled. All that hiding away and playing it safe, and I still got cancer anyway. It’s bloody ironic, isn’t it?’

‘None of it’s fair and you can’t blame yourself for not taking those chances, because you were battling a different kind of illness then.’ Isla desperately wished she could do something to change the outcome for Sarah, or to give her back even a tiny bit of what she’d missed out on, but nothing could.

‘It’s partly my fault, because I didn’t take the help that was offered to me to try and deal with my fears, as much as I should have done. I refused the medication and some of the therapies. I think it became so much my norm, I was scared of letting it go, because who would I have been without it?’ Sarah closed her eyes for a moment, and Isla tried not to see the parallels between her own life and the woman’s sitting next to her, but it was impossible. Isla’s behaviour might have been nowhere near as extreme, but she was saying no to things she wanted because she was scared of getting hurt. Except nothing could hurt her more in the end than looking back at a life and feeling all those years had been wasted. There was no point in protecting herself, if it meant she didn’t really live, and if she didn’t get to experience the things that mattered most in life. It was the same message Gwen and Jayne had tried to give her. Nothing was guaranteed, her patients taught her that every day, and when her time came – whenever that might be – she didn’t want to be like Stuart, alone in the world, apart from a carer who was paid to be by his side. She wanted people around her who loved her as ferociously as she loved them. And all she could do was wish the same for Sarah.

‘There’s no easy fix for that kind of fear.’ Isla squeezed the other woman’s hand. ‘Have you got people around, giving you support?’

‘My sisters have been great. I’ve driven them mad over the years, but they both dropped everything to be with me when I got my diagnosis. They’re taking it in turns to stay with me and they’ve been helping me to look my best, because it helps me feel a bit better too, but I’m giving them both the next week off.’ Sarah smiled; the look of serenity that had been on her face when she’d first arrived was back in place. ‘Craig, the guy from all those years ago, got in touch after I put something on Facebook about my diagnosis. He came to see me, and we talked all night. He said he wanted to take me to his favourite places around the world and show me all the things he wished we’d seen together. So, he’s taking me to Paris. He’s hired a camper van so we can stop whenever I need to on the drive down to Kent, and then we’ll get the ferry over to France, before driving on to Paris. He wrote all the time when he first went off travelling and I remember getting the postcard he sent me, with a picture of the Eiffel Tower on the front, and wishing to God I’d been brave enough to go. Now I’m going to get to see it, with Craig.’

‘That’s wonderful, Sarah, I’m so happy for you.’ It was a ray of hope in all that had been lost, and Isla managed to smile through the tears that were blurring her eyes.

‘He told me I was the love of his life, and I know he was mine. Not everyone gets to have that kind of love in life, so that’s something, isn’t it?’

‘I think it’s everything.’ As Isla put her arms around Sarah again, the battle to stop herself from giving in to tears was well and truly lost.

24

The calls from Aidan’s family had become much more regular since the day he’d stormed out of the pub. His mother called at least once a week and sent regular parcels containing things that couldn’t be bought outside of Ireland, including the Jacob’s Coconut Creams that Jase had fallen in love with on his first ever visit. Aidan’s brother, Niall, had set up a WhatsApp group for all the siblings and their partners, where they regularly exchanged family photographs and checked in with how Aidan and Jase were doing. It might not seem a huge deal that Jase had been added to the group, in the same way his siblings’ spouses had, but it felt like a massive step to Aidan. The funny thing was, since he’d made it clear he wasn’t getting involved in his father’s seventieth birthday celebrations, they all avoided mentioning Sean, and his mother acted as if her husband didn’t exist during her calls. It was probably easier that way; it certainly hurt Aidan less to pretend he didn’t exist. He could accept that the rest of the family still loved his father, because deep down he did too. He wished he didn’t, but life was rarely as simple as he wanted it to be.

Ever since her visit, Aidan’s relationship with May had made huge strides in getting back to how it was when they were children. She’d already booked a week in an Airbnb in Port Kara, so that she and her family could spend some quality time with Aidan and Jase in the next school holiday. When he’d tried to insist that she come and stay with them instead, she’d been adamant that they shouldn’t impose, because there was no way of knowing where they’d be up to in their treatment at that stage, and they might need some space as a result. She was so empathetic and understanding, and had become their number-one cheerleader almost overnight. So it was no surprise to see her number flash up on his phone when it rang one evening, just after he’d finished work.

‘If you’re calling me to suggest another parenting book, Jase already has them all. He must do by now because we’re spending more on books than on our mortgage!’ It wasn’t strictly true, but sometimes it felt like it.

‘It’s nothing like that. I wanted to tell you something before someone else does, or you see it online.’ May’s voice sounded strained and the tightness in Aidan’s chest that always appeared when he feared bad news was making it hard to catch his breath.

‘What’s wrong?’

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