Page 10 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
Here there would be nothing to see — sand, pebbles, a few rocks, seaweed. A torn plastic bag, several empty drinks cans.
She surfaced slowly and rolled onto her back to float for a while, then she began a lazy backstroke. After the long flight from Wellington it was good to stretch the ache out of her muscles. The sun was warm on her face, the gentle rocking of the waves beneath her could almost have lulled her to sleep.
Liam. She had dreamed about him last night — at least she had sensed that it was him, though she hadn’t actually seen him. They had been walking side by side along the beach here. The sea had been as tranquil as a millpond in the moonlight. They had been talking, but she couldn’t remember what about.
But then when she had turned, he wasn’t there any more, leaving her with an aching sense of loss.
It was a dream she had had before. Quite often actually, especially in the early years after she had left. And last night, ason those other nights, she had woken to find her pillow damp with tears.
But now her stomach was warning her that it was almost lunchtime, so switching to an easy breaststroke, she swam back to the shore.
* * *
The hospital had an open-visiting policy. Cassie and her mum had brought punnets of strawberries and grapes, and two bottles of Nanna’s favourite milk stout, which the doctors had agreed she was allowed to drink.
Helen Channing turned into the car park and drove around slowly until she spotted someone just pulling out of a parking space. “Ah, lucky.” She eased into the spot, turned off the engine, and unfastened her seat belt. “No tears now,” she warned Cassie. “Your grandmother hates any of that kind of fuss.”
“Of course.” Cassie forced a watery smile. “I promise.”
“Come here.” Her mother produced a tissue from her pocket, and taking Cassie’s chin between her fingers, she dabbed it over her eyes.
“Aw, Mum!” Cassie protested, laughing. “Anyone would think I was in Year Three.” They both climbed out of the car and set off across the car park to the hospital entrance. “I just keep thinking I should have come home sooner. I would have had more time to spend with her.”
“She understands. You needed to live your own life. You wouldn’t have been happy if you’d stayed here — you needed to fly. You’ve always been like that, since you were a little girl. You always wanted to go that bit farther, climb that bit higher. You were always asking questions, and then more questions when you got the answer.”
“Sounds like I was a nightmare!”
“Not at all,” her mum insisted. “You were great fun. A challenge, but fun.”
“But I was your youngest.” Cassie’s eyes danced. “You didn’t have another one — you didn’t want to risk it turning out like me!”
They laughed, which made them both feel a lot better.
The hospital was busy with staff and visitors milling around the reception area, a few patients in dressing gowns and slippers taking a little careful exercise for a change of scene.
“It’s on the fourth floor — we’d better take the lift,” Helen suggested.
“Sure.”
They stood aside to let a wheelchair out, then rode up to Nanna’s floor. As they stepped out into the long, stark corridor, Cassie tucked both her hands into her mother’s arm, feeling the comfort that had always been there for her, even when she hadn’t wanted to need it.
The guilt was digging at her, tightening in her guts — she should have come home sooner.
She had always been close to Nanna when she was little, loving to run up the road to her house further up the hill and sit in her kitchen watching her bake, begging to lick out the mixing bowl or nibble the cut-offs of pastry. Then breathing the wonderful aroma that came from the oven, and finally being granted a slice of mouthwatering apple and blackberry pie or coffee-and-walnut cake.
Now Nanna was ninety-three and her heart was failing. It was that which had brought Cassie home, taking extended leave from the adventure tourism company she was working for in New Zealand and booking the first available flight when Lisa’s email had warned her that time was running out.
So, she was here, and she knew that she had to do her best to keep a smiling face for her grandmother, though she felt like breaking down and sobbing her heart out.
It was a four-bed ward. Nanna was in the bed in the far corner, her white hair in wispy curls around her head, her face almost the same colour as the pillows propping her up. Beside her, a heart monitor was beeping — faster than normal, and with the occasional skip. Signs that a once powerful and loving heart was finally failing.
She turned her head as they walked in, her pale eyes twinkling as brightly as ever. Cassie’s mother squeezed her daughter’s hand as Cassie walked to the bed, forcing down the lump in her throat so that she could speak.
“Hello, Nanna.” She bent and kissed the papery cheek. “How are you?”
“Much better for seeing you, my little Pickle.”
Oh, lord. Cassie almost lost it. That had always been Nanna’s pet name for her. To catch a moment to compose herself she went to fetch a spare chair so that she and her mother could both sit down.
