What Doesn't Kill You Page 4

  As she was repeating the mantra, a hare bolted from the roadside hedge and ran straight across Evie’s path. Evie banged her foot hard on the brake, then lunged forward as the car halted. Winded and shocked, she took a moment to gather her wits before glancing to the side. Had she hit the hare? There was no blood on the tarmac, that had to be a good sign. Cautiously, she pulled back the handle and inched open the door expecting to hear horrific squeals of pain. ‘Please God. Please, please, please. Don’t let me have hit it.’ She stepped onto the road and, through half-closed eyes, checked the front of the vehicle. Nothing. Braver, she got down on her knees and peered under the car. Still nothing. No dents, no limbs. No suicidal hare. She scanned the bushes either side of the road, then, rising to her feet, walked to the rear of the car. Absolutely nothing. Zero.

  As she returned to the driver’s seat it crossed her mind she’d imagined the whole incident. She knew the nasty games stress played. She’d been an unwilling and unwitting participant in the past, but it seemed a new round had commenced, and Logan was the games master, setting unfair rules and ensuring the advantage was his.

  She shook her head and reminded herself how reliant Logan was on her; a fact which had not escaped Griff’s notice, although he was of the opinion his father was asking too much of her. Evie had her reasons for refuting this, none of which she could explain to Griff. He’d see for himself tomorrow. If Logan was still with them.

  With a renewed sense of urgency, she fired up the engine and pulled away.

  The recent high winds and torrential downpours had made rivers of the roads, but Griff’s car dealt with the flooded lanes of the Bride Valley with ease, and despite not having complete control, Evie was relieved she didn’t have to keep stopping to let the engine dry out. Her Mini had suffered earlier, driving through the temporary fords, and it had taken her almost an hour to travel the seven miles home from Logan’s.

  She reached her destination within minutes in the Land Rover. She parked roadside, dashed across the pavement to Logan’s house and frantically fingered Griff’s large set of keys, trying to establish which of the bunch unlocked the front door. After three failed attempts, she gained access.

  ‘Logan?’ No answer. ‘Logan?’ She shoved the keys in her pocket, pushed the door shut and hurried into the room to her left. Logan was slouched in his armchair, his head lolled to one side, a selection of bottles on the nest of tables beside him. Evie froze. Ever since the day she had become his carer, this was the moment she had dreaded. She accepted she was the one most likely to find him like this, but it wrenched at her gut. She had to face the possibility every single day, every single time she walked into that house.

  Month-by-month, one year to the next, Logan’s physical needs had eaten into her life with Griff, the time she spent with Tess and Dylan, and the space to do something for herself. In the time she’d known the Hendrys, she’d calculated she’d spent almost as many waking hours with Logan as she had her own family. But she wasn’t resentful. She wanted to help. His arthritis was no longer under control and every day brought him pain and distress. Evie was keen to do whatever she could to increase his quality of life.

  She stared at his chest, waiting for it to inflate. She’d done it a thousand times with Dylan, late at night, watching for signs of life, not knowing if he was sleeping peacefully or lost to the world.

  With a phlegmy snort, and a roll of his head, Logan opened his eyes. Their blue intensity found its way to Evie. ‘What took you so bloody long?’

  His Scottish accent appeared when he swore. Times of pure emotion often brought it to its roundest, fullest extent. Other than that, it came and went with the tide, or so it seemed to Evie.

  She released a heavy sigh and crossed the room. ‘You scared the living daylights out of me. I thought you’d—’

  ‘Done something stupid? That’s what you were going to say.’ He flinched as he slowly repositioned himself. ‘No Griff, I trust?’

  ‘No. He’s looking after Dylan.’ Evie studied the contents of the small table before gathering the empty bottles – two miniature Bell’s and one special edition Famous Grouse. The lids must have been loose for Logan to open them. ‘Have you been partying without me?’ She thought her comment would lighten the atmosphere, but Logan growled and turned away.

  ‘I had a Scotch. What of it? I’d like to say it’s the only pleasure I’ve left, but that’s a lie. I have no pleasures. Have you any idea what it’s like to be stuck in a body that won’t do as it’s told?’

  Evie bit down on her lip, took the empties to the kitchen and returned with a small glass of water, handing it to Logan. ‘I’m not judging you.’

  ‘Why not? I judge you.’

  That was true. ‘I’m here to help.’

  ‘No matter what that entails?’ He raised a shaky hand to his mouth, slurping at the water in the glass. ‘If ever I needed your help, it’s now.’ He indicated for Evie to free him of the drink. ‘You haven’t told Griff, have you? He mustn’t know. No one must. If you do this thing for me, you can’t tell a living soul.’

  Evie set the glass down, and crouched at Logan’s feet. His hooded eyes sought hers. ‘It’s not something I wish to broadcast,’ she said. ‘What with it being unlawful.’

  ‘But is it something you’ve thought about?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Almost exclusively. ‘I want to help you, but I don’t think you realise how big a deal this is. Have you considered how I feel about it?’

  Logan sneered and waved for Evie to distance herself. ‘You should be relieved. It will free you from this … this burden.’ He cast his eyes down his frail body before refocusing on Evie. ‘The sooner I’m gone, the better. For all of us.’

  Evie removed herself to the sofa, and perched on the arm. She fought hard to prevent the tears from falling, but still they came. ‘Please don’t say that,’ she whispered, dabbing a finger across her cheeks.

  ‘Why not? It’s the truth. I’m an encumbrance. I’m a … what’s the word Tess uses? A time-suck.’ He took in a quivering breath, and dragged a trembling hand across his chin. ‘I can’t even shave.’

  Evie dived forward, taking his fingers in hers. ‘I don’t mind doing that for you.’

  ‘You don’t do it right.’

  ‘I’ll take you into Bridport, to that barber’s shop – have old Tom do a proper job. Have a day out. We could do it on Monday.’

  With the effort showing on his puckered brow, Logan twisted his fingers free, scrubbed them against his thigh, and glared at them, as if they were his worst enemy. ‘You don’t get it. I’m sick of relying on others.’

  Evie reached into her pocket and tugged at a tissue. It ripped on its way out, leaving her with a ragged corner between her thumb and finger.

  ‘Over there.’ Logan directed her to the understairs cupboard. ‘You’ll have to open a new box.’

  She knew where he kept the tissues. She knew Logan’s house as well as her own, but she played along, thanking him, leaving him as king of his castle. She opened the door, switched on the light, and through blurred vision, studied the shelving unit. It was filled with music cassettes, videos of old films, the telephone directory, shopping catalogues, and two tissue boxes. Having reached for the nearest one, she tore off the top panel and yanked out a tissue. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and took a second tissue, stuffing it up her sleeve, then allowed herself a moment to settle before facing Logan.

  ‘I lost my father at a young age,’ she said as she exited the cupboard. ‘I never even knew my granddad.’ She put the tissues on Logan’s side table, and her used one in her pocket, before stroking the soft, grey hair growing around Logan’s ear. It was fairer here, more like ash than the charcoal on top. He moved his head away. So typical of him.

  Evie resumed her seat on the sofa. ‘You’re seventy-four. That’s the new fifty these days.’ She attempted to raise a smile, but suspected it looked more like a sympathetic grimace. ‘Dylan and Tess will grow up without a granddad. Have you
thought of that?’

  ‘Of course I have,’ Logan grumbled. ‘I’ve thought of everything. The time, the place. The means. I have all the drugs I need. I’ve been saving them for the last few months. Missing one here and there. Stowing them away. They’re locked in that red cash tin in my bedside drawer.’

  So that was what was in there. Evie had seen it often enough, going in and out of the drawer, fetching things for Logan. ‘You’ve been saving them for months?’

  Logan produced a laugh which gnawed at Evie’s insides. In spite of his fragility, and in spite of his vulnerability, he had the strength to reduce an adult to a child.

  ‘Yes. Months. Did you think it was something I decided on a whim?’ He shook his head. ‘You’ve no idea what I’ve been through. How’d you think all of this makes me feel?’ He waved a wonky arm, which he couldn’t straighten, in front of his face. ‘I’ve gone from being a carer to being cared for. I looked after Marilyn in her last few weeks. I wasn’t as useless then as I am now. I did everything for her – I fed her, bathed her, dressed her, brushed her teeth.’ He halted and closed his eyes.

  The pain was palpable. It stretched its tendrils out, wrapped them around Evie’s throat, and choked her. ‘Logan … Please …’

  ‘Listen to me, Evie.’ He opened his eyes; they were crystal clear, determined and very much in the present. ‘I had to clean my wife the same way I cleaned my soiled son when he was a baby. Where’s the dignity in that? I understand now, but at the time, I thought I was doing right by her. She begged me to let her go, but it went against every fibre in my body. I’d spent too many years as a surgeon – I’d vowed to do everything in my power to save people, but I’ve learned not everyone wants saving.’

  That was exactly what Evie had told Griff less than two hours ago, and here she was debating the point with the very man she knew wanted to die.

  ‘If Tess had a boyfriend, Evie, imagine him having to do all those private, personal things for you, because that’s what it’s like for me. You’re my daughter-in-law, and it’s only a matter of time before you’ll have to attend to my intimate needs. It’s not right. For either of us.’ He dropped his gaze, and lowered his head. ‘I won’t let it get to that stage, d’you hear?’ His soft Highland timbre belied the harsh reality of his words. ‘How would you feel? Think about it.’

  Evie had spent weeks thinking of nothing else.

  Logan continued. ‘I’ve sat here day after day, month after month, thinking about my own death. Planning my demise. Coming up with ways to ensure I succeed. And I’ve had no one to talk it over with. I had to reach the decision on my own. Do you know what it’s like to have no one to discuss things with?’

  Having been sworn to secrecy over his request, and knowing how much the disclosure would hurt Griff, Evie could empathise. It was lonely. It was torture. ‘You could have talked to me.’ It was all she had to offer.

  ‘And you’d have insisted I see sense, like you have today.’

  Evie fiddled with the tissue tucked inside her cuff, until finally, she yanked it free. For want of keeping her hands occupied, and as an excuse to avoid looking at Logan, she spread the thin paper over her legs, folded it in half, then folded it again, into a quarter of its original size. ‘You might have reached a different conclusion,’ she said.

  ‘There is no other conclusion.’

  Heaving another leaden sigh, Evie left the safety of the tissue and the couch, and approached Logan. ‘I’ve signed your Advance Decision papers.’ Another fact she had to keep from Griff. ‘I’ve lodged copies with your GP and solicitor, isn’t that enough?’ One more reason she couldn’t look her husband in the eye. ‘Your needs and wants are in black and white. Everyone’s clear about how you wish to …’ She trailed off, unable to say the word.

  ‘Die,’ Logan supplied. ‘But that doesn’t help me now. That’s only any good when I’m at death’s door. I don’t want to get that far. I want to go while I still have the sanity to choose and the power to do something about it.’ He reached for the seat’s remote control, took several attempts to press down its button, and huffed with obvious annoyance while the chair reared up. ‘I can’t even storm out of a room in frustration.’ He held an arm out for Evie to take. ‘Help me stomp out of here, will you? And then, when we get to the kitchen, throw a bowl on the floor on my behalf.’

  As she clasped his elbow to secure him, he placed his hand on her arm and gave her a very gentle, very affectionate pat. It caught Evie by surprise and she stooped to look at him. His thin, straight lips had parted, and the skin around his mouth wrinkled. He was smiling.

  ‘Got to keep your sense of humour, even in the darkest hours,’ he said, leaning into her.

  She took his weight easily, what there was of it – the scales read six stone this morning when they’d eventually managed to get him to stand on them without hanging onto the towel rail for support. Evie suggested they ask for a dietician’s appointment, but Logan refused. Food held no flavour for him these days. He made Evie promise not to bother the hospital, and she agreed on the condition he tried to eat little and often, believing that was the key to encouraging the return of his appetite.

  ‘Have you had anything since lunch?’ she asked, taking small, steady steps, letting Logan set the pace.

  ‘Apart from Scotch? I had some Turkish Delight. Three pieces. Would you like to try it?’

  They shuffled into the kitchen, where Logan pointed to a white paper bag next to a silver toaster. ‘My next-door neighbour gave it to me. I quite like it. That doesn’t mean I want more bags of the stuff, though.’

  Evie saw him glance at her.

  ‘There’s a bowl in that cupboard you can smash,’ he said, his slack grin making another appearance. ‘Now, let’s see how my birds are doing.’ He hobbled to his right and rested against the sink. The window in front looked out onto his small back garden, half of which was laid with Portland stone slabs, the other with lawn. Shrubs bordered the grass, and the low level back fence had lost its fight with the wild ivy growing over from the fields behind. It resembled army fatigues, with several shades of green and brown merging with the black shadows.

  ‘Their feeder’s empty,’ Logan said, his words clipped with irritation.

  ‘I filled it this morning.’ Evie peered through the glass – the glass she had cleaned after serving Logan breakfast. ‘I’ll top it up in a minute.’

  ‘I’m all right here. Go and do it now, while it’s fresh in your mind. And maybe you can peel that dead ivy off the fence, too. It’ll give you time to reach your decision.’

  Every time Evie succeeded in removing a stubborn vein of ivy she waved it at Logan, and then threw it on the grass. She really didn’t mind doing a spot of gardening for him, but it wasn’t why she’d driven like a maniac to get there. She’d hurtled down the B-something-or-other and hit an imaginary hare to stop him from doing … yes … something stupid. Naturally, she was relieved he was still in one piece and able to stand watch over her, but she had to get home. To the rest of her family.

  As she kneaded her back, now aching from the awkward position she’d adopted, her mobile vibrated. She wiped her hand on her coat, fished the phone out of her back pocket, and accepted the call. It was Tess.

  ‘Mum? Will you be back soon?’

  Evie checked her watch, surprised at how quickly the last hour and a half had passed. ‘I won’t be long. I’ll make Logan his tea and get him ready for bed, and then I’ll be on my way.’ Hopefully that would prevent her having to return later. ‘Everything all right?’ No reason it shouldn’t be with Griff there.

  ‘Not really,’ Tess said. ‘Dylan’s been sick, and I’m feeling weird, all wobbly and hot. Reckon we’ve caught a bug. Griff said his staff were dropping like flies with one.’

  More keen than ever to return home, Evie scraped the strands of ivy into a pile and kicked it to the edge of the lawn. ‘Get a glass of water and put yourself to bed. In fact, fetch the plastic bowl from the airing cupboard too. Jus
t in case. I’ll be home in twenty.’ The silence told Evie there was a problem with her suggestion. ‘Trust me, you’ll feel better for lying down.’

  ‘I can’t. I told you, Dylan’s not well.’

  ‘Griff can take care of him. He knows what to do.’

  ‘He’s gone.’

  ‘To take Ozzy out?’

  ‘No, to work. About an hour ago. Another officer called in sick. He took your Mini. Said he’ll be back later. Mum, I have to go, I think I’m going to be sick.’

  The line went dead.

  Chapter Five

  Griff

  Having completed his maritime safety information broadcast, and the hand-over to the night watch, Griff reclaimed his personal items from his locker and made his way out of the building. Before slipping his mobile into his hip pocket, he checked for messages. ‘Evie,’ he muttered, shaking his head. She had the audacity to ask why he always put work first, when she was the one who’d dropped everything to go to his dad.

  He thumbed in a functional, non-combative reply: The Operations Officer was taken ill. I’m leaving now. Back soon.

  He wanted to type home, but the cottage he’d lived in ten years prior to meeting Evie was already beginning to feel more like a place to visit than somewhere to stay. The ironic thing was the flat he was now in wasn’t home either. It was a shell, with basic furnishings that didn’t meet his basic needs, but it was a stopgap, just until he’d sorted everything out with Evie.

  She’d told him she didn’t want saving, as if what he did for a living was banal and pointless. There was a chance she said it knowing it would hurt, but that wasn’t her style. Evie was compassionate and self-sacrificing, often … no, always putting others first. Helping was as much her nature as it was Griff’s, they just came at it from different angles. Two sides of the same coin, his father would say.

  Griff unlocked the Mini and wedged himself behind the wheel. He assumed Evie took his car to negotiate the floods – it had taken gentle and expert handling of the Mini to get it from Abbotsbury to Weymouth. He’d filled it up as well, to save Evie the job. In the past, she’d found that a romantic gesture.