The Things You Didn't See(30)
Cassandra chewed her sandwich, gazing into the middle distance. The café was busy. A too-young couple fussed over a baby who was refusing his bottle of milk. Next to where the trays got stacked, a woman with no hair but startling blue eyes stirred her tea for too long and gazed into space. Over in the corner, an elderly couple, straight-backed and smartly dressed, sliced their steaks neatly, dabbing the corners of their mouths on paper napkins as though enjoying a meal at the finest Michelin-starred restaurant. What a microcosm this place was: birth, illness, death.
On the other side of the window was a double-sized black bin that totally obscured any view, and around it gathered a huddle of hardy smokers, not put off by the drizzle of rain that had just begun. Among them was Hector Hawke, standing slightly apart, but smoking with serious intent. He was gazing up at the Garrett Anderson Centre, home to the intensive care ward, where his wife now lay.
Cassandra saw him too but she continued to eat her sandwich with mechanical, sleepy chews. ‘It’s best to let Dad be when he’s angry.’
‘Who’s he angry with?’
‘The world. Me.’
‘Why with you?’
Cassandra leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. She looked exhausted. ‘Because I was there. Because I’m questioning things, and he’s frightened.’
DAY 4
TUESDAY 4 NOVEMBER
14
Cassandra
I sleep, deeply and for too long, on account of the Prozac Clive gave me, and the trazodone I’m secretly taking, waking in a sweaty tangle, strands of hair stuck to my face, my heart quivering. I reach for Daniel, my hand seeks his body, but he’s gone. Instead, laid flat on the pillow, is a piece of paper. It’s my Waitrose receipt from last Friday, and on the back he’s written:
Hospital called to say your mum is stable.
Gone to see a very sick client who can’t be cancelled. Back soon.
The clock beside me says it’s almost ten. I should have been awake hours ago. I stagger downstairs, only in my nightdress, hair unbrushed, but I’m so hungry. I want to call Daniel, to check on when he’ll be back, but I know I shouldn’t interrupt him when he’s with a client. Instead, I take tofu from the fridge and pour coconut oil in a pan: comfort food. Eventually, when I can stand it no longer, I call the Studio.
‘Hello?’
It’s the teenage receptionist, Katie. She’s only just left school, unqualified, and doesn’t even give the name, Samphire Studio, but Daniel believes in giving people a chance. Plus, he likes that he can train her from scratch, to his standard. He just hasn’t achieved this yet.
‘Katie, I’m looking for Daniel. Is he still there?’
‘Oh, Cass, hi! He’s – um – busy.’ Something in the way she’s pausing between words sounds shifty.
‘I need to speak with him, please.’
‘Um – he did say I should take a message if you called.’ I want to reach through the phone wires and slap her.
‘I mean it, Katie. It’s urgent. Get him to call me.’
I slam the phone down. The tofu has shrunk from puffy white to hollow black when it finally rings.
‘Katie said that you shouted at her and then hung up. Are you okay, love?’
I can’t remember shouting. ‘I’m fine, just making a tofu scramble.’ As if that proves I must be.
‘Good, that’ll give you energy. Make sure you have a samphire shot too. Look, Cassandra, I’m sorry I had to leave you, but I couldn’t cancel my client: she’s in crisis. The hospital is pushing her towards chemo and I’m helping her stay fit and well enough to avoid that poison. I just need to write up her case notes and I’ll be home, then we’ll drive to see your mum. How’s Hector?’
I feel tears well up inside me. ‘Please come home now. I don’t want to be alone with him.’
‘Cass, he’s your dad and you need to support each other through this. I know you don’t always see eye to eye, he doesn’t always understand us or what we’re trying to achieve, but he’s your father and he loves you.’
‘He’s so difficult to talk to.’
I can hear Daniel breathing down the line, as if trying to send me relaxing vibes. ‘He’s a different generation to us – no one helped him to open up. Why don’t you go back to bed for an hour? You were tossing and turning all night. Did you have a bad dream?’
‘I don’t remember sleeping at all.’
‘I’ll ask Clive to pop round. Maybe he needs to adjust your medication?’
I know that for Daniel to suggest drugs therapy, he must think I’m bad. My hands tighten on the phone and I feel like tossing it on the floor. I don’t want Clive to come. I know what will make me feel happier: my daughter.
‘Please can Victoria come home?’ I add quickly, ‘She should see Mum in case . . . in case it’s the last time she can.’
There’s a pause then he says, so gently I want to scream, ‘The doctors haven’t said that, Cass. If they do, of course I’ll go and fetch her. If you call Tori while you’re feeling like this, you’ll only upset her and we don’t want that, do we, love? We agreed on this, remember? You just try to rest.’
I can hear someone speaking in the background, a woman. I don’t think it’s Katie.