There was a deathly silence. It went on and on. Maybe Fergus was waiting for her to say something, Ginny thought, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t.
‘As it happens,’ Fergus said finally, still with the friendly, interested tone about him, ‘there is something you might like to live a bit longer for. If you’re not afraid.’
‘I’m not afraid.’
‘That’s sensible. I’m not sure who looked after your brothers while they died, or what sort of deaths they had, but I’m here to tell you that if you permit me I can take care of you for as long as you want. I can keep you absolutely comfortable. I can keep it so you’re in control, every step of the way. No decision will be made without your say-so. Short of helping you into gas-filled cars, you’ll find that medical help can make the next few weeks as fulfilling as you want them to be.’
‘As fulfilling?’ Richard said. ‘Drifting into white wings and halos?’
‘There’s some who reckon it’s hosts of virgins,’ Fergus said mildly, and grinned. ‘Me, I don’t know, but even with virgins waiting upstairs, peacefully slipping away seems like you’re dead already. Which, thanks to Ginny’s lousiness with the petrol, now isn’t true. You’re alive until you’re dead, mate. You’re not dead yet and you have a job to do.’
‘Which is?’ Richard sounded stunned. As well he might, Ginny thought. She was feeling pretty stunned herself.
‘Getting to know your daughter,’ Fergus said bluntly, and handed him Judith’s letter.
Afterwards they walked out to the car together.
Richard had taken in the contents of the letter, had asked incredulous questions-and then had suddenly slept. It was as if the culminating emotions of the day had simply become overwhelming and his body had demanded time out.
There had been no denial, however. Simply a barrage of questions, then silence, then sleep.
Silence seemed good. Ginny walked Fergus back to his car and silence seemed the only option.
‘If I leave you, promise you won’t commit suicide yourself,’ Fergus asked as he reached the driver’s door.
‘Not enough petrol,’ she said, and gave a short laugh. Which almost turned into a sob. Almost but not quite. She managed to haul herself back together but it took an effort.
‘Ginny, this is a-’
‘There’s no need to swear,’ she broke in. ‘I know exactly what it is.’
His hand reached out and took hers. It was a strong grasp, warm and reassuring. It was his bedside manner, she thought, and she was suddenly angry. She might as well be angry as anything else, she thought, and tried to haul her hand away.
He didn’t release it.
‘I’m fine,’ she said unnecessarily, but still he didn’t release it.
‘You’re not fine,’ he said softly. ‘You were sick back there.’
‘Reaction.’
‘Of course it was reaction. How long have you been with Richard?’
‘This time?’
‘This time,’ he said, and his face grew a little grim, hearing the years of commitment behind those two words.
‘Since he came out of hospital. They wanted to move him into a hospice but it was better that he came back here.’
‘Better for who?’
‘I’ve learned the hard way,’ she said softly, ‘that it’s easier to do what’s asked rather than live with regrets afterwards.’
‘So it’s as hard as I think it is, coming back here?’
Her eyes flew to his. With shock. He knew.
‘I…’
‘Did your brothers die here?’ he asked. ‘And your mother? I’m thinking you’d never want to be back here.’
Silence.
‘You were here for them?’
More silence.
‘And Richard? Was Richard there when the rest of your family died? Did you have any support?’
‘Richard’s been ill,’ she said defensively, and she knew by the look on his face that he understood the story behind that, too. Or part of it. Richard hadn’t wanted to spend his limited life caring for dying siblings or distraught parents. He’d turned off at an early age, making every excuse to be away from home.
Ginny didn’t blame him. He had been ill and young, and the fact that she’d been given no choice didn’t mean she had to resent Richard.
‘Let’s think of a plan here,’ Fergus said, and she managed to haul her hand from his and glare.
‘There’s no plan.’
‘There has to be,’ he said. ‘I’ll come back after evening clinic and see what Richard has decided to do.’
‘Richard won’t decide to do anything.’
‘He must.’
‘You can’t put the responsibility for-’
‘For his daughter on him?’ All of a sudden Fergus sounded grim, sympathy fading. ‘Yes, I can. But it’s not me doing it. Like it or not, this little one is his daughter and, no matter how sick he is, he needs to face that. Sure he’s shocked…’
‘Fergus, this afternoon he tried to kill himself.’
‘Did he?’ He looked down at her, and she could no longer read his face. ‘You know, even a dying man can read a fuel gauge, Ginny.’
She gasped. ‘What are you saying? He wouldn’t have staged it. What possible reason-?’
‘I suspect he’s wanting more help than he thinks you’re prepared to give.’
She didn’t understand. ‘He knows I’m prepared to give whatever’s needed. He refused to go to a hospice and he asked me to be here for him. I said I would and I will.’
‘Which fits with my theory,’ Fergus said evenly. ‘Why go to all this trouble to come back here if just to kill himself? If he’d really wanted to die he could have killed himself back in the city. Why come here?’
‘I don’t have a clue. But it’s taken me so much work to get this place back into habitable state. To organise equipment here…’
‘That’s what I mean. Ginny, what would you have done just now if I hadn’t been here?’
‘Exactly the same as if you had. Pulled him out. Got him back to bed. Been sick.’
‘And not left him alone again,’ he said gently. ‘Tomorrow…you’re not going to leave him for more than a few minutes, are you?’
‘I… How can I?’
‘Which means he’s got what he needs. He’s asked you to come back here and you’ve come. This afternoon you were away for several hours and I suspect he hated it and it made him fearful. Now he’s fixed it so that you can’t leave him. It’s called emotional blackmail, Ginny, and you need to see it for what it is. We need to organise you some help.’
She stared at him, incredulous. ‘I don’t need help.’
‘You do,’ he said, and smiled.
Which made her insides twist. Why did his smile affect her like this? she wondered wildly. She shouldn’t be emotional. She mustn’t be. She’d been through too much in the past to fall to bits now.
‘I can cope,’ she muttered.
‘Sure you can. But you needn’t.’ He glanced at his watch and grimaced. ‘I have patients waiting. I need to go. But expect me back at eight tonight.’
‘I don’t want you back.’
‘Sure you do,’ he said, and grinned. ‘You and your brother both need me and, like Batman, I always turn up when I’m needed. When the world needs saving.’
‘Wearing your jocks on the outside?’ she managed, bewildered, and he smiled.
