Extra Time 51

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CHAPTER 51
We stayed the night, as planned, but Mam took her toy boy along with Ian and Von back to our place. Much as he would normally have loved to talk army games with Fossy and Stewart, he was just too drained. He had pulled himself together for Hays, it seemed, and that was all he had left.

Bethy and her sister slept with the Woodruffs in their huge tent, so we had no worries about either young love overstepping boundaries or children alone in the night. Besides which, there were so many coppers camped out it was probably safer than being in the actual police station. There had been quiet moments amid the music, interludes where we had been able to chat and catch up with the friends I had never suspected I would find. Above everything, even Ian’s health, people were happy.

I could see Annie in her cousin’s smile. To be honest, they acted more like sisters, and Annie took a clear delight in teasing the new husband, who rather resembled a startled rabbit at times. I could almost read his mind: when do I wake up? When does the dream end? They did the usual, though, played the familiar cards, changed and gathered their luggage and boarded one of Stewie’s cars for the short ride to the airport and somewhere warm. I had another attack of the sniffles just then, and as Larinda ferreted in her handbag for a tissue, one appeared from my left. Alice.

“I know it’s traditional, Jill, but I just have to say it: lovely couple. She has found a true diamond there”

I had to find a smile for that one. “And you haven’t?”

“Ah, girl, that’s the thing here. So many of us, and somehow, even for an old trout like me, it’s all gone so much better than I ever dreamt possible. I mean, look at them all”

“I have. I was just thinking, like, I never realised I could, you know”

“And now you feel a bit stupid? I was lucky, I already knew I had friends”

She was a mind reader, clearly. “How did you know?”

“Common ground, love. We’ve both been through the same mill. I think… I think it helps us clear our thinking, focus, yes? Your brother, now. My Arwel was watching him. He’s not doing so well, is he?”

That made sense. “You came to talk about Ian, didn’t you?”

She nodded. “It’s the girl, Jill. She really has a beautiful voice, despite, you know, things she can’t help. We have a sort of family tradition with the singing, and it would be a shame… Look. This is embarrassing, but Arwel is too much of a man to come and ask you himself”

Larinda smirked. “Is he too much of a man, Alice? Really?”

The older woman grinned. “That would be telling! Now, here is what he says. He has been speaking to Twm and to Annie’s lot, and they have a proposal for you. Twm and Sioned---that’s Sar’s parents, aye? Er, sorry, too much time with the family. Anyway, they all feel she needs to be heard, and that she is someone with a special gift, and so they are offering to help with funding. Music lessons, that sort of thing”

Larinda put a hand on my arm. “Alice, sweety, that is very generous, but why her? They don’t know her”

There was a distinct set to Alice’s lips. “Eric had some stories to tell, about her mother, about being left alone, and, well, we all saw how her father was. He’s not doing well, Jill, it’s a brutal thing to say, and I’m sorry, but… waifs and strays, good causes, underdogs, call it what you will, she has a voice and a talent and they can see how he feels about it, so please talk to him. For Hays’ sake, aye?”

Alice shook herself. “My Arwel is a lovely man, a kind and gentle one, and sometimes he can’t hide it as well as he thinks. He wants to see a little girl happy”

I nodded. “I’ll speak with Ian, Alice. Just say thank you to them for me, even if he says no. He’s a proud old sod”

“Alice grinned, suddenly looking a decade younger. “Oh, I know rather a lot like that!”

She was off. I looked at my wife, as too many emotions fought for primacy.

“Would you mind if I got absolutely pissed tonight, pet?”

Apparently, I succeeded.

Ian was back in Eric’s care a week later, and the familiar round began once more, the tears, the shame, the sickness. All that was missing was the ritual macho protestations, and that worried me. My brother was folding, everything slipping away from his strength and reach. Mam was down, staying with the Woods, and of course Von was there, but it was all turning sour. I found Von crying in the kitchen one day, clutching a letter.

“Look, Jill, look. What’s the bloody point, eh? Sodding decree absolute, she’s gone, vanished, out of his life, innit, and now he hasn’t got one! Where’s the justice? Where?”

Somehow I found some strength. I don’t know where it came from, because all I wanted to do was slide down the wall with her, sit on the kitchen floor and bawl, but I couldn’t, because one of us had to stand and keep the other up. I wanted to scream my own complaints about fairness, and justice, but Von was at cracking point, and I had to find my steel, and so I held her, and told her the lies she needed, and waited for whatever news Eric could bring.

And each time I visited him, I saw the same face looking at me that I had shown Von, and realised how easily the lies came, how necessary they were.

“Has Eric told you what his in-laws are offering, pet? For Hays?”

He pushed a fork through some mashed potato, a little grimace of nausea on his face. “Aye, lass. Where do you find these people?”

I took his hand, thin, cold. “Just been lucky, like. Lucky…. Lucky to have you, and Nelly, and Mam, aye?”

He tried to smile. “Lucky? With me? I was an arsehole to you, for so many years”

“Aye, you were that, but think on: you turned it round, you accepted me, I couldn’t ask for a better brother, aye? Ian Carter, don’t you ever sell yourself short, cause all I need to say there is two words. Bethy. Hays”

“Well, I suppose Ellen had to good for summat, like”

“Was that a joke I just heard from you? We’ll have you back home soon!”

I never want to see a look like that again. Ian’s eyes bore such a depth of resignation, such an absence of hope, I began to cry, but his words were still strong, still carrying the message he felt he had to give.

“Aye, I’ll be back soon. Look, here’s a letter for that vicar, that Simon. He might could do us a favour. Can you drop it by for us? Oh, and let that Welsh lot know aye, yes, I would love to see Hays get a chance at something special. Now, I need to sleep a bit, pet, so next time, perhaps see if Von can have a bit personal time, aye? I need a bit chat with her, like”

That look, that dead stare, it was in the nurses’ eyes, in the doctors’.

Miriam answered the door, looking radiant, ring on finger, vicar in tow.

“Jill, isn’t it? Come in!”

Simon hugged me, and I handed him the letter. He opened it, quickly scanned, and winced. He paused for a while, then looked up at me from under his brows.

“Jill, do you know… ah, I see you didn’t. Ian is after a favour, but I need to do some work on this one. He is asking for a big favour indeed, and I don’t know if it would be legal, but I will do all I can, yes?”

“How big a favour, Simon?”

“Simply put, Jill, he doesn’t think he has the strength to come here, so it’s a bit Mohammed and mountain. I need to check for a licence”

“Sorry?”

“Marriage. Him and Siobhan. In the hospital”

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Comments

Well crap.

I'm still hoping Ian beats it and makes a good recovery. But I know life isn't always like that. I'll keep my fingers crossed as I wait for news from this all too real fictional life.

Hope...

Andrea Lena's picture

I never want to see a look like that again. Ian’s eyes bore such a depth of resignation, such an absence of hope, I began to cry, but his words were still strong, still carrying the message he felt he had to give.

Sometimes... resignation in one place is balanced by hope in another place. It's like the old saying; not how long you live but how you live long? What a painfully sad but almost joyous display of how things are and how we can draw from what we have been given. Truly among some of the best writing I've had the privilege to read. Thank you!

  

To be alive is to be vulnerable. Madeleine L'Engle
Love, Andrea Lena

slipping away

ahh, to have to watch while he slips away ....

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Not slipping

That's the nasty part about this sort of thing.People don't 'slip away', they are torn, dragged, beaten.This is based on my own experience, and it is painful to write.

big gentle hugs, steff

I remember my grandfather taken by cancer, my grandmother to dementia. I can only applaud your bravery in facing your pain in such a way as to give us this beautiful story.

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I'm Watching It Now

joannebarbarella's picture

It gets to a point where you don't know which is worse, the sickness or the "cure". As you say, Steph, it's not "slipping away". Your descriptions ring so true,
Joanne

Thank you...

... for your understanding, but I know it comes at an awful price. I won't say any more because the things that need saying shouldn't be said just now.