How Laura Lewis Met Richard Brown

Chapter Fifteen

Gertie loved Sunday afternoons in Cedar House. For starters, there was no Hazel as she had every Sunday off. That woman never worked the weekend if she could help it.

Gertie had managed to grab a few hours of sleep during the night and had spent the morning in bed, propped up, surrounded by her books. She’d been so happy to see Richard, who’d popped in for an hour. He’d looked worried — which she didn’t like — and kept asking her if she was in pain. Of course, she’d denied being in pain. Instead, she had successfully deflected his questions and asked her own. She’d asked him about the coffee-and-cake fundraiser, asked if Henry had had fun and then she’d asked if he’d chatted to Laura.

It had been at this point that Richard had clamped his lips together and merely nodded. He’d said that they had chatted for a little bit, while eating cake and drinking coffee, but that she’d then gone home, tired after her shift.

Gertie knew Richard didn’t want to talk about Laura. She’d seen the discomfort so clearly evident in his eyes, so she had let it go, but she had taken great satisfaction in getting any reaction at all from him.

Now, Gertie glanced at the wall clock. The afternoon shift would be here soon and she knew Laura would be working on her floor today, along with that nice young man who was going to train as a nurse.

It would be a good afternoon of intelligent conversation. She just needed to get Laura by herself. She had so much to tell her.

* * *

‘Hello, Gertie. I thought I’d pop my head round and say hello. I’m on shift this afternoon with Adrian.’

Gertie pushed herself up higher in the bed. She grinned and beckoned Laura into the room with a wave of her hand.

‘Will you have time to call in for a chat at some point?’ Gertie asked.

‘Yes, of course I will,’ Laura said, and smiled.

Gertie reached forward and held Laura’s hand. She closed her eyes. That black-and-brown aura that signified sadness still surrounded the young woman, but there were also pinks and greens, representing love and a soothing energy. There was still hope that things could change. Gertie wasn’t about to give up.

She let go of Laura’s hand and reached up to cup her cheek.

‘I’ll see you later then, love.’

Laura left the room with a promise she’d be back, and an hour later, she returned with two cups of tea and a packet of custard-cream biscuits poking out of her tunic pocket.

Gertie told her to move the pile of books on the bedside table and to place the cups there.

Laura did as she was told, sat on the edge of the bed and ripped open the packet of biscuits with her teeth.

Gertie took one and bit off a large chunk. Custard creams were her favourite. When Richard was a little boy, all the kids had called her the biscuit lady as her biscuit tin was always filled to the brim with Jammy Dodgers, chocolate biscuits and, of course, custard creams.

Gertie finished eating the biscuit, then picked up the mug of tea which Laura had made for her. She smiled at this small gesture of kindness. Laura had made the tea in a mug from the staff kitchen, not in one of the tiny residents’ cups. Cradling the mug with both hands, she began to speak.

She looked into Laura’s eyes unwaveringly, showing her that what she had to say was very serious and that she meant every word.

Laura lowered her own mug of tea. She nodded, encouraging Gertie to tell her story.

‘I’ve not got long left, love,’ Gertie said slowly. ‘And before you tell me that I’m wrong and that the doctor will see me tomorrow and tell me that I have an infection or am just run down, you’re wrong.’ Gertie took a deep breath. ‘I’m dying. The big C. Don’t need no doctor to tell me that. I’ve been around the dying for far too long not to know. I nursed Jim during his final days. But that’s not what I need to tell you.’

Laura shook her head.

Gertie noticed that she had grown quite pale.

‘That’s not what you wanted to tell me?’ Laura asked, eyes wide, unblinking.

Gertie waited a beat, waited for the young woman to ask what was really on her mind. What did she want to tell her?

But Laura remained silent.

‘You remember I showed you that box of letters and cards. The ones from Jim.’

‘Yes,’ Laura said.

‘I wanted to show you them because even though I loved Jim with my heart and soul, he died, and life goes on. I met Robbie. We got married. We were happy.’

Laura nodded. She remained quiet.

‘You need to know that life goes on. That you cannot stay in the past. That what happened to your husband wasn’t your fault and that you should move on with your life.’

Gertie watched the young woman’s face drain of all colour. Watched the mug that was half full of tea fall to the ground, bouncing to a halt on the plush carpet, the brown liquid slowly seeping into the fibres.

‘How?’ Laura’s voice came out in a croak. ‘What do you know about my husband?’ She shook her head and dashed into the bathroom for paper towels, then scurried back into the bedroom and placed them over the cooling tea. The white paper slowly turned a pale brown like old treasure maps.

Gertie spoke softly. She would have to tread carefully here. This girl was still a non-believer.

‘All I know is that something bad happened to him. Something very bad. And he died. And that you blame yourself for what happened.’

‘But how do you know?’ Laura asked. Her eyes darted round the room, as if searching for answers.

‘I just do, love. Can’t explain it. Call it a feeling. A second sight. It’s just who I am. Listen,’ Gertie said. ‘I need to tell you something else — then you may begin to understand that we really are very alike. That I understand what you’re going through.’

Laura picked up the now empty mug and placed it on the dresser.

She sat once more on the side of the bed.

Gertie began to tell her a story.

* * *

Laura sat on the edge of the bed, hands on her lap, and listened to what Gertie had to say.

She now understood what Gertie meant when she said that they were alike.

Because although somewhat strange, they were alike.

It all made perfect sense.

Laura remained quiet. She didn’t interrupt. She gave Gertie the time to formulate her words. She was fully aware that the old lady needed to tell this story, as much as Laura needed to hear it.

‘Robbie found it hard to cope after the train crash. That terrible day haunted him for the rest of his life. The other passengers who were killed or injured. He blamed himself for not being able to save the passenger in his carriage, an elderly woman. She’d died in his arms before the emergency services got there. He found it so very difficult to live with what he’d seen, what he’d heard. I know now it was post-traumatic stress disorder. He tried to hide it from me for such a long time.’ Gertie’s bottom lip trembled as she spoke. ‘But I knew the truth. Knew how much he was hurting. But he wouldn’t let me in.’

Laura placed her hand gently on top of Gertie’s hand. ‘What happened, Gertie?’ Laura asked. ‘What happened to Robbie?’

Gertie pressed her lips together. Swallowed. ‘It’s easier if I show you,’ she said. ‘Can you grab the box of letters from the wardrobe for me?’

Laura obediently did as she was told, although she wondered what the letters from her first love, Jim, had to do with her husband’s problems following the accident.

Laura gave the shoebox to Gertie who then prised off the lid and began to empty the letters onto the bed.

Gertie went carefully through the pile until she found the letter she’d been searching for, and held it out towards Laura.

‘I’d like you to read this. It’ll explain what happened.’

Laura hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking the letter. The first thing she noticed was that this handwriting was different. It wasn’t from Jim.

Laura began to read out loud.

Dearest Gertie ,

These past few months have been so hard. When I sleep, when I work, when I make a cup of tea or go for a walk with you, all I see are images of the past. Images that are best forgotten. I can’t even write them on this paper to make you understand.

I just can’t go on anymore in this life. I just can’t.

Just know that none of this is your fault. It’s just that I am no longer prepared to live a life.

I love you always.

Robbie.

Laura held the letter in her hand. Her gaze flickered towards Gertie, who was dabbing at her eyes with tissue paper.

‘I am so sorry, Gertie,’ Laura said, her words barely audible.

Gertie offered a wobbly smile. ‘Doesn’t get any easier. No matter how many years have passed,’ she said.

Laura slowly nodded. Unsure of what to say. Of how best to formulate her feelings. This was private and Gertie had shared it with her for a reason.

Laura now felt that she had to tell Gertie the truth about what had happened to Mark. After all, although it completely baffled Laura, Gertie seemed to already know half the story.

Laura inhaled, then exhaled to try to steady her nerves.

‘Mark took his own life. And it’s all my fault.’

‘What do you mean, it was your fault?’ Gertie asked. ‘My husband took his own life when I was two months pregnant. Not once did I ever think that it was my fault. I wish I could have helped him. That he could have talked to me about his feelings, but it was different back then. We just got on with things. Bottled everything up.’ Gertie took a breath. Shifted position. ‘But I know it wasn’t my fault and you’re not to blame for your husband’s death.’

Laura shook her head. ‘No, Gertie, you don’t understand. You had nothing to do with your husband’s death, but I had a part to play in why Mark took his own life.’

Gertie’s piercing green eyes softened as she spoke. ‘I don’t believe that, but why don’t you tell me what happened?’

‘It’s a long story and I really need to be getting on with the rounds.’ Laura stood up and retrieved the two mugs from the dresser.

‘Okay, well, tell you what, why don’t you pop back in when your shift is finished? We can chat then.’

Laura nodded. ‘I’d like that. I actually think it’ll do me good to talk about it.’

‘I do too,’ Gertie said. ‘I do too.’

* * *

Laura tried not to think about what had happened in Gertie’s room as she worked. She pushed the words she had read in Robbie’s final letter to the back of her mind and buried them with her own thoughts.

She really did want to tell Gertie about what had happened. Not because she sought forgiveness or understanding, but simply because Gertie wanted to know. She was interested in what Laura had to say and what had happened to her. Laura knew that she wouldn’t be judged and that gave her courage that she would be able to share her story.

‘You okay, Laura?’ Adrian asked as they tidied the lounge area, sweeping up magazines and plumping cushions. ‘You just seem a little preoccupied. You had bad news or something?’

Laura thought, not for the first time, that Adrian was very attentive. He noticed things. He’d make an excellent nurse. ‘I suppose I do have a few things on my mind, but nothing for you to worry about,’ she said.

‘Okay, but, you know, if you need someone to talk to, you know you can, well, with no one else . . .’ Adrian’s words trailed off. He shrugged.

‘Thanks, that’s kind of you, but I’m really okay.’

Buttermarsh was slowly digging its grip into her and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that yet.

* * *

The rest of the shift whizzed by, and after waving goodbye to the staff, with the pretence of just checking up on Gertie, she made her way upstairs to the older woman’s room.

After a quick knock, Gertie ushered her in. ‘Come on in, love.’ Her grin was matched with wide and expectant eyes. ‘I knew you’d come back.’

‘Did you now?’ Laura said teasingly, followed by a small chuckle.

‘Right then, you’d better start from the beginning,’ Gertie said.

Laura sat once again on the edge of the bed, exactly as she had done a few hours before.

‘So, the beginning,’ Gertie said. ‘That’s always a good place to start.’

Laura fidgeted with her hands, not sure of what to do with them — her palms were sticky with sweat. She placed her hands on her knees and leaned towards Gertie. She hadn’t spoken about what had happened in such a long time. She spoke quietly and slowly.

‘It was a normal Tuesday morning. I was on an early shift, so I got up at five, had a shower, made a pot of coffee. The usual morning routine. Well, the new morning routine for me. I was still getting to grips with living alone. We’d only been separated for three months. I’d moved out of our home and into a small flat. It was near the hospital. It suited me. Anyway, just as I was about to leave to walk to work, I got a text. He never texted me. He preferred to phone. He was old school. But the fact is that I hadn’t heard from him for several weeks and when he did call it was never so early in the morning. I should have known then that something was wrong. It was a warning sign.’

‘What did the text say?’ Gertie asked.

Laura opened her mouth to speak. Then closed it again. She took a breath. ‘ I love you. ’

‘Go on,’ Gertie said, her voice now low, soothing, encouraging Laura to tell her story.

‘He hadn’t told me that in such a long time. What happened between us . . . well, it was messy. It was something we could never get over. He had an affair. I couldn’t forgive him. So, we, no, I decided that we needed to separate.’

‘I can understand that, love,’ Gertie said. ‘There’s nothing to feel guilty about.’

‘But I was so angry, Gertie. So angry with him. I wanted him to suffer. We’d been married fifteen years and he betrayed me. Had an affair with a twenty-year-old. I was so angry and humiliated. He begged me to take him back but I said no, and because of that, his life just spiralled out of control.’

‘In what way?’

‘He started to drink. Turned up at the flat drunk, shouting, swearing. Saying he wanted me back. It got to the point where this happened most nights and in the end I had to get a restraining order. I hated myself for doing that, but I did it for him. I thought it would help him, but all it did was drive him further into drink and depression.’

Laura put her head in her hands. ‘I should have known. I was a nurse. I should have seen the warning signs. That he was vulnerable, that he was depressed.’

Gertie raised an eyebrow. ‘What happened?’

‘Ten minutes after sending that text he jumped from a railway bridge. I learned what had happened when I got to work.’

The two women sat silently, Laura trying desperately to stop the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

‘You can’t tell anyone about this,’ Laura eventually said. ‘I don’t want people to know. Especially Richard.’

‘But you’ve both come through a loss,’ Gertie said. ‘You could help each other.’

‘No,’ Laura said, followed by a shake of her head. ‘What happened to his wife was completely different to what happened to Mark. I don’t want him or anyone else knowing. I moved here because people wouldn’t know my past. I don’t want to see his look of pity. Or be told that if only I’d been kinder, then it wouldn’t have happened.’

‘Oh, love, why would anyone think that?’ Gertie asked.

‘Because that is exactly what Mark’s mother accused me of,’ Laura said, before bursting into tears.