Page 46 of The Flowers of Bay C
Kat laughs.
Heat rushes to my face and I fumble for words. ‘Oh, sorry… um, I mean, yeah, that’s true.’
‘You don’t have to be so sorry all the time.’ Her blue eyes are intense with meaning and something like power. ‘You can be more at ease with yourself.’
I shrug. I don’t know what to say to this confident, tattooed vicar who seems to carry the wisdom of the world and a whole load of compassion besides. Whenever she talks to me I get a lump in my throat, as if the tears I haven’t shed for many years might be pushing somewhere close to my eyes, as if her presence unlocks something secret in my wildest places, something I’m not sure I want to visit.
We push through the doors into the coolness of the corridor, soothing after the artificial heat of the ward. It stretches out before us, long and rambling, reaching far and away into more departments and wards and theatres and the intensive care unit. It’s a hub of activity, medical staff rushing to and fro, admin staff striding down the hallway with clipboards and buff files laden with endless pages, patients shuffling along with drip stands, and early visitors waiting outside wards to be allowed in. The Peace Garden is quiet, though, no one else braving the cold, despite the weak sunshine pushing through the November sky. I lean on my walker and turn my face to the sun, closing my eyes and allowing its fragile rays to stroke my face.
Jodie parks Barbara by the bench and lights up. She sees me watching her and throws her palms up, cigarette clamped in the corner of her mouth. ‘Don’t worry, don’t worry, I’m not coming near you.’ She wanders over to the other side of the garden where a path snakes through the fallow flowerbeds and stands staring into space, puffing away. Kat and I sit down on the tatty old bench and it creaks in dismay.
‘You okay, Barbara?’ Kat says, turning to Barbara and tucking an edge of blanket underneath her shoulder. She reminds me of Jake as a baby, all swaddled in his pram, cocooned from the nasty world out there.
She smiles and the glow of it lights her faded eyes. For seconds I get a glimpse of who she once was, the Barbara who married Billand loved him for sixty years. The glint of light in her eyes has an edge of mischief but an edge of something else, as well, a darker edge, an edge that tells of sadness and weariness. I wonder what her life has been like. I wonder if she’s always been ill, like me and Jodie. I wonder who she really is.
‘I know my mouse is somewhere near,’ she says.
Kat and I exchange a look.
‘Are you warm enough?’ Kat says.
‘Ooh, girl, I’m toasty. Don’t worry about me!’
We sit in companionable silence, watching the clouds race across the sun and the bare branches of the fruit trees waving in the chill breeze. I shiver and wrap my dressing-gown tighter.
Jodie finishes her cigarette and wanders over. ‘She’s loving this, isn’t she,’ she says, nodding to Barbara, who has her face upturned to the afternoon sky, a smile playing round her cracked lips.
‘She is,’ Kat says. ‘But we shouldn’t keep her out too long.’
Barbara shakes her head. ‘I’m fine. Stop fussing, woman. I like it out here.’
Kat smiles. ‘I’m glad.’
‘Used to sit out in the garden with my Bill. He liked to grow vegetables, he did. Didn’t always turn out so well, mind. You should’ve seen some of his carrots. They were all bendy, they were, and I says to him, expect me to peel those things? And he says yes, I expect you will, because you can do anything with food. And he was right, too.’ Her face clouds over and she picks at a corner of her blanket. ‘He was my rock.’
No one says anything, but Kat tucks the blanket back around Barbara’s arm, and keeps her own hand on top of it.
‘Listen,’ Barbara says, after a few moments have passed. ‘You hear thatbird?’
I strain to hear. I can’t hear much, but there is a muted shrill of birdsong, a ghost of summer mornings, reminding us of nature’s glory even in winter. ‘I hear it,’ I say.
Barbara leans her head back on the chair, smiling.
Jodie is grinning away. ‘What’s tickling you?’ Kat says.
Jodie gesticulates at Barbara. ‘It’s just, she’s doing well, isn’t she? If she’s like this we can do it, can’t we?’
‘Do what?’ Barbara says.
Kat shakes her head at Jodie.
‘Y’know, Barbara. I mean, we can keep bringing you for some fresh air.’
‘You will take me to the sea, though, won’t you?’ Barbara says, unaware of the hope whispering through the air and through our weary minds.
Maybe Jodie is right. Maybe wecoulddo this thing.
Chapter 14
