What Doesn't Kill You Read online

  ‘You wouldn’t like it,’ he’d said to her. ‘You’d have to hide everything away each time you went out.’

  Evie could see his point.

  ‘In fact,’ he continued, ‘you couldn’t leave anything out at any time, day or night. I don’t want strangers looking at my bank statements. How would I know what they were up to once I was put to bed?’

  ‘There are decent firms out there,’ she’d replied. ‘But I hear what you’re saying.’

  ‘I trust you, Evie. And I know you’re not on the take. You’re a capable, caring woman, with the energy of a power station, and I appreciate what you do for me. I can never thank you enough, and I promise, the moment I become a burden, the second my body holds me prisoner, I will find my own solution.’

  At the time, Evie hadn’t considered suicide as the solution, but finding Logan as she had that morning – having to clean him, dress him and tell him it would be all right – brought home everything he’d said about the loss of dignity.

  But suicide?

  She was still shocked that she was contemplating his plea. She should have said no from the get-go. No, like she’d told Dylan when he’d played too rough with a boy at the toddler group. No, the word she’d used on Ozzy when he’d jumped up at the kitchen counter. No, the reply she should have given when Griff asked if there was someone else … At times it came to her freely, but never when someone needed or wanted something from her.

  Although not at ease with the idea, she felt less conflicted by the Advance Decision. It was a document outlining the care Logan wished to receive in his final days – no tubes, no assisted breathing, no resuscitation. It was daunting stuff, but it wasn’t about him taking his life, it was about Logan being allowed to let go. There was a subtle difference and one Evie could live with.

  She could try to talk him round. Ask him to look beyond the present. Explain the demands and pressures she was facing. Tell him how much she needed to be at home for Tess and Dylan, both at crucial stages of their lives. Tess was in her exam year and Dylan needed to socialise with his peers – get to know the children with whom he’d be attending pre-school.

  Perhaps she should let Logan know what a strain it had put on her and Griff’s marriage.

  Strain was too generous a word. Fractured was nearer the mark. She’d made the damage done to her marriage sound like a sprain to a muscle, as if a few weeks of rest would set it right, but with the constant beating it was taking, and with nothing to support it, a complete break was inevitable.

  Would any of this make a difference to Logan?

  Evie shook her head in reply to her question. He was an intelligent, protective, wilful man, who would use those reasons to fuel his fire. He’d say his continued existence would only serve to perpetuate the problems and that by taking him out of the equation his family could return to being a happy, strong and solid unit.

  Somehow she had to convince him life was worth living and put a positive spin on the carer situation. Find a way to show him trained staff could improve his quality of life. And hers.

  ‘You’re not a burden,’ she said, waiting for him to open his eyes before she continued. ‘It’s an honour spending time with you.’ She hesitated, not wanting to add a ‘but’, knowing the word would take away the importance of the preceding sentiment. ‘I miss being with you as your daughter-in-law, the mother to your grandchildren, the wife to your son. With a little extra help, we can get that back.’ He’d be Logan the granddad and the father, not Logan the patient. Evie longed to see those sides of him again. He called her his daughter-in-law, but she felt more like his warden. ‘We’d spend time together as a family.’

  No reaction.

  Evie tried another angle. ‘You’d have an expert looking after your medical needs. We both know I’m not much good beyond sticky plasters and antiseptic.’

  That provoked a twitch of an eyebrow, but nothing more.

  She had one last argument; one she was uncomfortable with using, but it would elicit a response.

  There’d been a definite shift in their dynamics today, one which neither could ignore.

  Logan, the patriarch, the man whose intelligence and courage saved lives, and whose authority and influence had brought an entire hospital to its knees until it addressed its mortality rates, had been reduced to the level of a baby. Everything Evie had done for him that morning, she was to repeat later with Dylan.

  This was the catalyst for the renewed cries for help.

  ‘You wouldn’t have to face me cleaning and dressing you,’ she said, clutching her hands to her breast.

  ‘The fact anyone has to clean and dress me is enough,’ Logan said, his voice adopting a soft quality.

  It sent a shiver from Evie’s chest to her stomach.

  He called her to him and she kneeled at his feet. His bony, twisted fingers stretched out for hers. She held them, gently.

  ‘I used to be like Griff,’ he said. ‘Full of life. Strong. Virile. I took care of my family. I loved Marilyn and Griff with every cell in my body. Everything I did was for them. Always the provider. Always the strong one holding it together. And I’ve never asked for anything in return. I’ve never asked anything of anyone. Not until now. I’m asking you for help, Evie, that’s all. Help me move on to the next life, where Marilyn waits and where there’s no more pain. No more sitting in my own waste. No more … fear.’ A fragile hand pulled away from hers and stroked her hair. ‘You don’t even need to be here when I do it. I just want to make sure I’m not left in limbo. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  She wasn’t sure she did. She looked up expecting to find Logan crippled with pure emotion, but instead was rocked by his steely glare and sheer determination. His thin lips were set hard in a perfect line. He appeared calm, focused and resolute.

  ‘I’m going to do it, Evie, with or without you.’ His hand withdrew from her head. ‘You’re not the only one who can find other methods.’

  Logan’s indomitable expression had stayed with Evie from the second she’d seen his face, to the moment she stepped into the cottage, and now the result of driving home blind, the worry of Logan’s threat, and the shock of Dylan’s seizure was hitting her. All she wanted was to see her baby boy, check in on Tess, and take shelter in Griff’s arms.

  As she shut the door and glanced into the kitchen, she saw Griff, his shirt pulled tight across his back, huddled in Ozzy’s corner. She could hear Dylan singing away, repeating the words, ‘Good dog,’ to an indistinct tune. Relief and sadness brought her to a standstill and she allowed herself a moment to work out which emotion had the strongest hold. Relief was the first to let go.

  Griff peered over his shoulder. His jaw was set firm, his mouth, reminiscent of Logan’s, was as straight as the horizon, and his eyes were directed at Evie’s. Where his were warm with autumn colours and Logan’s were a cool Arctic blue, both pairs were asking Evie the same question: Why won’t you help me?

  He nodded, then returned his attention to the scene in front of him.

  ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you got home.’ Evie ventured into the kitchen, stopping after she’d stepped over the threshold. ‘I planned to be, but …’ Excuses, reasons – whatever name she gave to them – weren’t going to help. ‘How’s Dylan?’ She edged a little nearer, circumnavigating the table. ‘He looks his usual self.’

  The toddler scrambled to his feet and trotted across to Evie. ‘Mummy!’

  She lifted him from under his arms, kissed him several times and held him tight to her chest, taking strength from his display of unconditional love. If only children ruled the world … She laid a cheek on top of his head, his mop of thick hair providing a downy cushion. ‘You had us worried, Dylan. I thought you were—’ She pulled herself up, stopping short of saying, ‘dying’, but the thought alone was enough to trigger the tears. They fell onto the soft feathers of her baby’s head, turning spots of his hair from brown to black. She smoothed them away, wishing her pain was as easily eradicated. She
changed her gaze from Dylan’s head to the back of Griff’s. ‘You must be exhausted.’

  ‘He is.’ Griff remained facing away.

  ‘I meant you.’ Evie kept her tone gentle. ‘Have you had any sleep?’

  Griff’s head moved from side-to-side. ‘Not enough.’

  ‘Can I get you anything? A bite to eat?’

  It seemed so inadequate after everything he’d done for Dylan, but it was all she could permit herself to offer. What she wanted to do and what was appropriate under the circumstances were two entirely different things.

  Dylan’s weight shifted and he nestled into her. ‘I’m going to put Dylan down and then I’ll be back,’ she said. ‘Let me make you some lunch. Please.’

  Before she left the kitchen, she saw Griff shrug, and took it as acceptance of her proposal. His indifferent gesture was an indication of how unhealthy their relationship had become. Griff was a communicator; a talker; the man who encouraged Evie to open up, express herself, speak out when she had something on her mind. To see him answer in such an apathetic way, and to know it was her actions that had brought him to it, delivered despondent tears to her eyes, a ball of wretchedness to her gut, and a familiar sense of isolation she thought she’d buried with Neil.

  If Griff and Logan would just talk …

  It was a pointless wish and one that wouldn’t change the fact Evie had no one to blame but herself.

  Things had got out of hand and she owed Griff an explanation, but until she’d sorted out the mess in her head and reached a decision about Logan, she’d have to continue on her treacherous course. The journey had to come to an end at some point.

  As she settled Dylan into his bed she heard footsteps pad across the landing, followed by a door clicking shut and a squeak of a floorboard, indicating Tess had not been in her bedroom. She too deserved an explanation, but she’d never asked for one. Not even when her father was around. She accepted Evie’s actions without question and, like Dylan, her love was unconditional. ‘She doesn’t need to know,’ Evie said, brushing a finger against Dylan’s cheek. ‘Not yet. I’ll protect you both for as long as I can.’

  She’d promised Tess that no matter what, she and Dylan would be her number one priority, but Evie had allowed all the stuff with Logan to sabotage her efforts. It wasn’t good enough. Her children would only ever have one mum. Logan could have any carer he chose. ‘Your granddad’s right about one thing,’ she whispered. ‘It’s time for change.’

  Having looked in on her daughter, Evie returned to the kitchen. She took her seat at the opposite end of the table to Griff. ‘Tess has flopped on her bed. She says she’s fine, but she’s so pale normally it’s hard to tell if her colour’s returned.’ Evie’s attempt at humour had no impact on Griff’s fixed expression. ‘It’s a nasty bug.’

  Griff’s eyes, already narrow through sheer tiredness, became arrow slits, and his lips, so tight and thin, blanched and almost disappeared. ‘What was so urgent with my dad that you had to shoot off?’

  ‘I wasn’t going to go until you were home, but he kept trying to reach me.’ Evie pushed her chair away from the table. ‘I was concerned something awful had happened to him.’

  ‘But he’s okay?’ Griff gripped the edge of the table with both hands. His fingernails were as white as his lips.

  ‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ Evie said, turning to sit side-saddle. ‘He’s as well as can be expected.’

  She stared at the kettle. Griff’s skewed reflection in the curve of the shiny chrome stared back. His face loomed large, out of proportion to his body. It was an unpleasant, distorted vision of him, and one Evie didn’t wish to see, so she switched her view and studied the white handle of the fridge. She could see Griff in her peripheral vision, but at least there were no details glaring back at her from the plastic door grip. ‘Logan needs help,’ she said.

  ‘Morning, noon and bloody night. He’s taking you for a ride.’ Griff scraped a hand through his hair. It was what Evie called his frustration tell. ‘You’re too soft,’ he said. ‘You need to start saying no. Take back the control.’

  Even though Griff had lowered his voice, the words reverberated through Evie. Take back the control. ‘It isn’t about that,’ she said. ‘It’s about compassion and love. He’s family and he needs us.’

  ‘No, no, no.’ Griff was back to clutching the table. ‘Dylan needs you. Tess needs you. Our family needs you.’ He fell silent, compelling Evie to look at him. He left his chair, approached her and lifted her chin. ‘I need you.’

  That simple connection sent a commotion of confused sensations around Evie. When Griff traced the outline of her face with the back of his hand, she disappeared into a moment of time when making love with her husband didn’t involve a conscious decision.

  Life was simpler before Logan made it all about death.

  She put a hand to Griff’s chest to prevent him leaning in further. He stopped, but didn’t pull away.

  ‘You don’t need me, though, do you?’ It was as if an on-switch was flicked behind his eyes. An understanding had occurred, but of what was anyone’s guess.

  Evie opted to remain silent, letting Griff reach his own conclusions.

  He stood upright, nodded, and retreated to the rear door, unlocking it and allowing Ozzy into the garden.

  ‘My father designed this.’ Griff waved a hand at the outside space. ‘Before I knew you. It was the summer of Mum’s chemo. She had one cycle of treatment to go. Dad would bring her to the house, set her up in one of the padded recliners just here …’ He gestured towards the doormat. ‘And he’d work on the garden. Just things he could manage, you know, weeding, pruning. I did the donkey work.’ Griff ran his fingers along the doorframe.

  Evie banished an image from her mind of her and Griff having sex against the door he was now caressing. It had only been the once, but had she known it was a place of such precious memories …

  ‘Towards the end of summer, I came home to find Mum and Dad sitting on the newly-stained decking.’ He pointed to the far end of the property. ‘It was bare wood when I left for my shift. Dad must have worked like a Trojan. He said Mum slept for the best part of the day, so he knuckled down and got on with it.’ He paused. ‘Dad said it was something he had control over. I remember the way he looked at Mum, and her weak smile she gave in reply. She was pallid grey, and her skin had aged ten years in the last twelve months. Then Dad brought me indoors, sat me down where you are now and told me Mum’s cancer had spread further than originally thought.’

  Griff turned in Evie’s direction. He was chewing his lip, a reaction she’d seen enough times to recognise he was struggling with emotion.

  After a huge expansion of his chest, he continued with his story. ‘Dad said Mum had chosen to stop her treatment. She wanted to live whatever life she had left experiencing reality. She wanted clarity. She wanted to know she’d heard the blackbird’s morning song and not imagined it through a drug-induced haze. She wanted …’ Griff hooked a foot round the leg of a chair, reeled it in and collapsed onto it, his arms limp at his sides. ‘She wanted to know when she was dying.’ He cuffed his nose and then resumed his slumped position.

  This was a part of Griff’s life of which Evie knew little. He rarely spoke of his mother, but it was obvious to Evie from the day they met that Marilyn’s loss had affected him on many levels – levels he’d never invited Evie to explore. She could only assume the dreadful situation they now found themselves in had provided Griff with a need to reach out.

  She considered reaching out herself, to show him how much she loved him, explain why she couldn’t be with him right now; tell him the whole story about Logan. It was a revelation to learn how Marilyn and Logan’s paths were so parallel. Marilyn’s decision to stop treatment must have had a profound effect on Logan, influencing his thoughts on the right to die. Put in the same situation, watching a loved one suffer with constant pain, and witnessing their agonising deterioration, Evie could see how one would question quantity o
ver quality. It wasn’t that part of Logan’s request she struggled with.

  ‘I didn’t realise Marilyn had stopped the chemo,’ she said. ‘What did Logan think about that?’

  Griff’s mouth twitched. ‘He supported Mum. I couldn’t believe it. He was a surgeon. He saved lives. He wasn’t a man who gave up just because things got difficult.’ Griff slapped his hands down on the table, then gave his palm a firm rub. ‘We argued. I mean, proper argued. We’d always clashed heads, often disagreed, you know?’ His brow creased as he appeared to study his hand. ‘This was different. This was important. This was about my mum wanting … wanting to die.’

  His gaze levelled with Evie’s but his sight appeared to be searching through the devastation behind his eyes.

  ‘Who wants to die? Life is precious. It’s worth fighting for.’ With a long, onerous blink, he released a slow breath. ‘I lost my best mate at sixteen. Kieran. It was a pointless, tragic death.’

  There was a microscopic shake of his head that Evie would have missed had she not been observing Griff so closely. Understanding the importance of what was being shared, she waited to hear more.

  ‘A group of us decided to spend the day over at The Bill. Girls and boys. They were talking about tombstoning, jumping feet first from a cliff into the sea. It’s so dangerous. I’d always found reasons to not go, but we were there, on the spot, on Pulpit Rock, and Kieran didn’t want to leave.’

  Evie extended a hand across the table. She was too far away to make a connection, but she wanted Griff to know she was reaching out, even if the gesture was literal.

  ‘I told him not to do it. I pulled him back, but everyone was cheering and whistling and showing off, and he shoved me away. Next thing I knew, he was hurtling through the air, heading for the sea.’ Griff flexed his ankle.

  It was another small movement Evie noticed.

  ‘When I looked over the ledge, he wasn’t there. The boys who’d tombstoned before him had surfaced within seconds, so where the hell was he? I counted to ten, praying he was horsing around, hoping I’d hear him whooping and laughing, but by then the girls were screaming and the lads were shouting for help. I couldn’t believe what was happening.’