Love Never Dies Pt. 09

"How long have you been ill?"

"Oh, yes," she said and then sighed. "A long time, months. It started not long after we began meeting. I told you I wasn't feeling too good and was off my food. Remember, I'd be hungry and then couldn't each much."

"I remember, yes."

"Well, like I told you in my e-mail, instead of improving after our split, it's got worse. At first, I thought it was because I was still all knotted up inside, not about our meetings any more but this time about breaking up. I mean, I was distraught about it, you know. Anyway, Charlie convinced me that there might be something physically wrong, not just nerves or worry."

"Right, I see," I said. "So the doctor thinks you've got gall bladder problems? Will that mean an operation?"

"I don't know. Most likely. But that's why I'm booked in at the hospital for tests and scans, whatever they want to do with me. Quite honestly, I hate hospitals."

I couldn't help laughing.

"It's true, Richard," she said, a little chuckle in her husky voice. "I suppose it's knowing what goes on behind the scenes that does it. And we nurses are very critical, you know." She paused briefly, then asked in a quiet tone, "Will you take me to the hospital, Richard?"

"Sure. You say your appointment is for ten. That means I'll need to make an early start."

"Oh shit," said Gaynor. "I didn't think. Will that be a problem? I mean, with Veronica."

"Don't worry about that, I'll think of something. I'll get to your house by nine. That should be okay, yes?"

"Mmm, fine," she said. "Thanks Richard. I feel better already."

"Wish it was that easy."

"Yeah, well. . . anyway," her voice suddenly lifted, "what did you think of your Christmas card. I've never done anything like it before."

I realised I hadn't opened the attachment and I reached for the mouse. "Tell you the truth, Gaynor I haven't looked yet. I read your message and then phoned straight away. But I'll look now."

"What? Are you phoning from home? I told you never to do that."

"Whoa, slow down. It's okay, Veronica's out," I lied and clicked to open the attachment. The picture was of a snowman with a robin perched on a shoulder. "That's lovely, thank you," I said.

"It's an old picture I painted years ago."

"You painted?"

"Yep, told you there was lots you didn't know about me. Anyway, you've got it. I didn't add any words in case someone else saw it. Can't be too careful."

"Okay," I said and was aware of the lounge door opening. "I'd better go, I think Veronica's just coming up the drive."

"Okay, Richard. Thanks and I'll see you on the fourth. Love you, byee."

"Bye, Petal."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GOLF and Mick came to my rescue again. The fourth was a Tuesday and, being winter, we usually teed-off early. Veronica had no reason to suspect anything. If only the rest of the day had gone as smoothly.

At Gaynor's house, I let myself in and found her sitting in a chair in the bay window. She wore black leggings, black knee-length skirt and a white long-sleeved blouse, buttoned up to the neck. A winter coat was draped over the arm of her chair, her tote bag and another valise-style case at her feet. At first glance, she didn't appear ill at all.

She looked at me and smiled, dazzling white teeth lighting up the room. "Hi," she said softly as I crossed the room.

"Hi," I said and bent to kiss her lush lips. It was an appropriate greeting kiss, nothing amorous. "Why the case?"

"Ah, I didn't mention I might be kept in. Sorry Richard. I was told to be prepared for an overnight stay. Hope not but . . ." she shrugged, raising her magnificent bosom.

"Right, I see. Are you ready?"

"In a minute, there's something else." She pointed to the vacant chair. "Sit down."

I sat and she reached to hold my right hand in her left, squeezing lightly. "I wanted to tell you this face-to-face." She looked into my eyes. "I didn't tell you everything on the phone but . . . well, when I went to the doctor he gave me a thorough examination, pushing and poking and he came up with this gall bladder prognosis." She paused. "Then I told him that I've got a lump in my left breast. Had it for some time. Well, he had a feel and that's when he started talking about detailed tests and scans. To be quite honest, Richard, I tuned him out. I didn't really listen because I have my ideas about what's wrong with me."

I was shocked, couldn't speak. My mind couldn't absorb the possible seriousness of what Gaynor had just related. Gall bladder removal is one thing but lumps in her breast? Cancer? In her beautiful, magnificent mounds? No, not possible. I shook my head slowly, hoping some bits of sense and understanding would fall into place.

"Don't be alarmed, Richard," she said. "We've got to wait and see what they find at the hospital. They'll sort me out."

I smiled; well, my lips twitched. "Yes, of course they will. But, lumps in your breast, that's a shock, Gaynor."

"Lump not lumps," she said with a smile. "Come on, don't worry. Let's get going."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took an age to go through the hospital paperwork and I noted that Gaynor gave Charlie as her next of kin. When asked, she referred to me as her best friend and gave my phone number as an alternative should Charlie be unavailable.

We waited for what seemed hours before Gaynor was called to the X-ray department. And then we waited some more, holding hands and talking about nothing in particular. To be honest, I felt lost. I just couldn't understand what was happening.

By early afternoon, we'd been shuttled to various departments, Gaynor had spoken to and been examined by different white-coated staff while I sat in corridors or ante-rooms. Then came the dreaded words: oncologist team.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gaynor had a myriad of tests, X-rays and scans on the second day. On the phone in the evening, I was patched through to Gaynor's ward and someone at the nurses station told me that she was comfortable but tired. She was awaiting results and would be spending a further night in hospital. I asked them to tell her that I'd called.

Minutes later I received a text from Gaynor: Bloody exhausted. Charlie's been and my head's spinning now! Will text tomorrow. Love xx

Gaynor didn't text. In mid-morning she phoned. "Just say it's a wrong number if you can't talk. Can you come at two this afternoon?"

Veronica was actually shopping at the supermarket. "It's okay on both counts. Yes I can talk and yes I will come to you. How are you now?"

"Much the same. Where's Veronica?"

"It's okay, don't panic, she's out shopping. When do you get the results of the tests?"

"Some time this morning. If you can get here for visiting time at two, I might be ready to go home. I hope you'll be able to take me."

"Sure, of course," I said.

"Thanks. I'd better go. My battery is low and I didn't bring a phone charger. Okay, honey, see you later. Byee."

"Bye Petal."

When I arrived at Gaynor's ward, I was told I had to wait. She was, apparently, in discussion with the oncologist team. I could see into the ward and the curtains had been drawn around a bed. I assumed Gaynor was there.

From a vending machine, I bought a boiling coffee in a styrofoam cup. My fingers burned holding the cup and the taste, when the liquid had cooled enough not to singe my tongue, was foul.

A nurse, passing by, spotted me curling my lip after taking a sip. She smiled and said: "Awful isn't it? Best just to have the cold water. And that's free."

"Thanks," I said. "Think I'll do that. I couldn't possibly drink this muck."

She carried on walking away as I left the unwanted coffee on a table. I got a cup of cold water and, swilling some around my mouth to get rid of the coffee taste, I saw three white-coats emerge from Gaynor's curtained cubicle. I drained the cup as the trio approached the nurses station. One of them leaned across the counter and relayed information to a blue-dressed member of staff. She nodded, tapped something on a computer screen, and the oncologist team went on their way.

The lady in blue looked across at me and said: "You can see Miss Reid now. Bed four along on the left."

I nodded, said "Thank you," tossed the empty cup into a bin and headed for bed four. There was a small gap in the curtains and I entered. Gaynor was propped up on masses of pillows. Her nightie was a lavender colour but, what struck me first, was the absence of gold hoops. From the day I bought them, I couldn't remember seeing Gaynor without them dangling from her ears. Obviously, there was a ban on wearing such jewelry in hospital.

"Hi Richard, thanks for coming," she said.

"Hi," I said and kissed her lips before sitting in the plastic chair at the side of her bed.

"Your timing's good. I've been waiting for the results all morning but they've only just been to see me."

"Yes, I know. I've been here a little while and I saw them leave. So," I clasped both my hands around her left hand, "what's the verdict?"

We looked into each other's eyes. Hers, not surprisingly, lacked the normal sparkle. "Not good, I'm afraid."

"Oh." I waited, fearing the worst.

"Seems these mounds of fat have let me down, Richard."

"Oh no," I blurted.

She withdrew her hand from my clasp and placed it on my shoulder. "Yep, 'fraid so, it's cancer."

I was astounded that Gaynor could be so unbelievably cool in the face of this awful news. I certainly didn't feel at all composed. "They can treat it right? Chemo or whatever?"

She shook her head. "It's not going to happen, Richard."

"What? Why not?"

"It's not just my breasts." She paused and licked her lips. I watched in stupified silence as she reached for a beaker of water on the bedside cabinet and drank a little. "They've found another tumour in my liver and my oesophagus, my bowel . . . it's everywhere, honey."

I looked at her, my gaze roaming over her lovely face, down over the magnificent swell of her breasts and to her hands resting in her lap on top of the blankets. The red nail-varnish was unusually chipped. Everything's gone to hell.

"Surely," I said in desperation, "in this day and age, they can do something."

"I've been over this with the oncologists, Richard. Yes, they can give me some treatment . . ."

"Oh, thank God for that," I chimed in.

"No, listen, Richard." She paused and placed her hand on the back of mine. "There's no point. They can treat me, perhaps give me some extra months to live but they can't cure me. Richard, understand me, I don't want that debilitating treatment just to live for a few months more. What sort of life is that, anyway?"

I opened my mouth to answer but Gaynor applied pressure to my hand. "No, don't say anything. I've seen a lot of cancer patients in my time, believe me. Many of them have been incredibly brave. But, I always said that unless I had a chance of surviving for a few years, I would rather let nature takes its course."

I bowed my head and lifted her hand to my lips. I kissed the back of it, the knuckles one by one, and turned it over to kiss her palm. She then placed her palm on my cheek and said: "Thank you, Richard, you're so sweet. I know I can rely on to help me get through this to the end."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So much and yet so little happened from that moment. In sequence it was something like this:

Gaynor was prescribed drugs, pain-killers I suppose, and was released from hospital. At home, she had daily nursing visits and it didn't seem long before she became bed-ridden. She didn't eat solids, surviving on liquid drinks and drips. Even then, she regularly vomited bile into a hand held cardboard spittoon.

A week after Gaynor left hospital, I told Veronica I had something important to tell her. I sat in my armchair in the lounge and faced Veronica, sitting on the couch, and told her that Gaynor, my old flame from way back, was dying of cancer. I didn't go into details about the background of our reunion and subsequent split other than to say Gaynor had originally contacted me via Facebook months ago, that she had never married, lived quite locally, and worked part-time as a nurse.

When I mentioned that I had originally taken her into hospital, Veronica said: "Why did she ask you, she must have friends?"

"Yes, she has friends," I agreed. "But she was very nervous about the hospital visit, and with great justification as it turns out. All she actually said was she would feel safer if I was there. Anyway, I took her."

Veronica nodded and didn't speak another word while I brought her up to date with Gaynor's condition. "I hope you understand," I concluded, "that I've told you all this because I intend to keep visiting her. I hope you don't have any objections."

Veronica stood from the couch and came over to sit in my lap, an arm around the nape of my neck. She kissed the top of my head and said: "I never met her, but the poor woman's dying. I know you were lovers way back and I understand how you must be feeling. So, if you need it, you have my blessing Richard. And, if there's anything you want me to do, just ask."

I hugged Veronica's waist and this wonderful, caring wife of mine rested her head on my shoulder.

So, I regularly drove to see Gaynor, sometimes bumping into Charlie and other visitors who were either nursing colleagues or from the photographic and painters clubs.

Gaynor slept a lot but, one day she was quite alert and asked me to lay on the bed and hug her. I did so, but gently, and she quietly said: "Who'd have thought it, all the love and romance comes down to this, eh Richard?"

On February 4, two days before her birthday, Gaynor was transported by ambulance to the hospice where she used to work. I followed in my Volvo and spent time with her as she was settled into a private room. The effort of the move was extremely tiring for her. By now, she was losing weight rapidly. Her hands looked huge on the end of long, thin arms. Her feet and legs, too, were reducing to bone. Yet, her chest remained fleshy and large. How could that be?

For her birthday, I made a card on my computer. I used a copy of her painting of the snowman and robin on the front (ironically, it snowed that day) and wrote these words inside:

My dear Gaynor,

Recently, you poignantly said "All the love and romance comes down to this."

Sadly, yes it does. But, for what it's worth, I want you to know that the love is still there and always will be, Come What May, as the song goes.

Finding a suitable card to mark your 55th birthday has been nigh impossible. It seems ridiculous and inane to wish "Happy birthday" etc but I do hope you make the best of it as you can - and the days that follow.

As we've said many times, the fates dealt us a strange hand and it's rather ironic that this reunion of ours all started with my "thin and ill" Facebook picture. Devastating as your situation is, I must tell you that I'm pleased that we were brought together again.

Our too brief reunion provided me with many memories to add to all those from earlier years. For that - and for the day I first met you, my Petal - I shall always be grateful.

I went every day to the hospice. Sometimes, Gaynor never woke at all and I just sat looking at her for an hour or so. Nurses popped in and fed me cups of coffee. She was one of their own and, I'm not suggesting she had favourable treatment, but they were extremely attentive.

Towards the end, she was a sad sight, a shell of the real vibrant Gaynor I knew and loved. One day, she mumbled to me: "This is taking too long, Richard."

It was another twelve days after that when Gaynor finally left us. I wasn't there but when my phone trilled at 4:05 in the morning, I knew what had happened.

I sat up in bed to answer the phone. "She's gone, hasn't she, Charlie?" I said.

"Yes, Richard. She went peacefully in her sleep about six minutes ago. God bless her," and I heard a loud sob as she abruptly disconnected the call.

Veronica turned over and looked up at me. "Bad news?"

I looked at the phone in my hands and then at Veronica. "In some way, but not really. Yes, she's gone, but there's no more pain now."

My wife wriggled up into a sitting position and linked her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek before resting her brow on my shoulder. We said nothing for quite a few minutes. Finally, I said: "Thank you, sweetheart. I'm okay, let's get back to sleep."

Strangely, I hadn't shed a single tear. If I felt anything, it was relief that all Gaynor's suffering was over. Also, if the truth be known, I was totally numb.

The funeral was a small affair. Veronica asked if I wanted her to accompany me but I declined. "Thanks, but no, it's best I go alone," I said and she nodded.

From Gaynor's house, I went in the black limousine following the hearse. For company I had Charlie, the lady secretary of the camera club and an old nursing colleague. The gathering at the service numbered a little over twenty and I couldn't take my eyes off the coffin where a framed picture of Gaynor, in nursing uniform, stood on top.

I sat with Charlie and we held hands, listening to the clergyman talking in quiet and respectful tones about my soul mate. I was composed right until it was announced that Gaynor had chosen one song for a particular good friend. "Richard is here with us today," said the clergyman, "and this is for him."

I steeled myself, waiting for Gladys Knight's voice to resound in the tiny chapel. Instead, tinkling piano notes floated overhead, followed by "Just to look in your eyes again. . ." I gulped and felt Charlie squeeze my hand. Somehow, and I don't know how, my eyes remained dry; not a single tear.

Charlie had organised snacks and drinks at her place and I stayed for just a brief time. Other than Charlie, and the occasional few minutes I'd spent with a few other visitors at the hospice, I didn't really know anyone. I didn't want to linger, listening to snippets of what Gaynor meant to other people. I knew what she meant to me and that's all that mattered.

When I'd said my polite goodbyes, Charlie came to my car with me and, as I was opening the door, she suddenly declared`: "Oh shit, wait there, don't go," and raced back into the house. When she returned, she air-kissed both my cheeks and then handed me a small gift-wrapped parcel. "Stupid me, I nearly forget this. It's for you from Gaynor. She said I've got to give it to you after the funeral. She wants you to open it in private."

Charlie suddenly burst into tears. "I said wants," she blubbered. "I mean wanted, she's not here anymore, is she?" and she fell into my arms. Quite possibly, we had been Gaynor's two best friends, and we hugged, sharing a mutual unspoken grief.

Veronica met me on the doorstep, stood aside to let me enter our house and asked: "How did it go?"

"Good," I said. "A nice turnout."

"And you?" she asked, putting her arms around my waist and looking up into my eyes. "How are you?"

I kissed her brow and then the point of her nose. "I'm okay, thanks. A little sad but, hey, that's to be expected, isn't it."

Veronica squeezed me and then broke away. "Okay, Richard, but don't be afraid to talk, you know. Don't bottle things up. I know all about that." She smiled, just a small lift in the corners of her mouth. "Anyway, I'm not standing here in the hall all day."

"Okay," I said. "I'll get changed and be down in a few minutes."

Before I changed from my formal attire, I took Gaynor's parcel out of my suit pocket and placed it on the bed. Now dressed in pants and sports shirt, I picked it up and decided to open it in my office. After all the hours I had spent sending e-mails from that room to Gaynor, it seemed the appropriate place.

The parcel was not large, the size of a CD case but a little deeper. I sat in my chair and carefully removed the wrapping, revealing a white cardboard box. My mind wandered to the time I opened another of Gaynor's boxes, the one containing a butterfly keyring.