Worn Out Wife Seeks New Life Read online

  ‘No, we’re closing at five thirty and we don’t do house visits,’ came the reply.

  ‘Right… okay… and is there anyone I can phone if things get worse?’

  ‘Yeah… we’ll put the answering machine on and it’ll give you the emergency number. But you’ll have to go to them. They don’t do house visits either.’

  Tess ran her hand over the dog’s soft head and suddenly tears were spilling down her cheeks.

  ‘Right, fine,’ she said, ‘thank you.’ Then she hung up.

  Bella was still trembling and whining softly in her basket. The cooling sick was congealing on the grey carpet. But vets didn’t do house visits any more. Despite the overwhelming sense of sadness, Tess knew she had to do something.

  Okay, first things first. She went to the kitchen cupboard where she kept Bella’s arthritis pain relief. She took a teaspoon from the drawer and filled Bella’s bowl with fresh water. Then, for a few minutes, she ministered to the sick dog. She tenderly squeezed a double dose of medicine into her mouth. Then she dribbled teaspoons of the cool water over Bella’s parched-looking tongue.

  She stroked the dog’s ears and after a while, Bella’s trembling and whimpering quietened and she seemed to fall asleep.

  Tess went to the kitchen and put together a sponge, a towel and a bucket of soapy water. Back in the sitting room, she tucked one of Bella’s blankets over her, then scraped and scrubbed at the carpet.

  When that was finished, she brought her duvet down, lay on the sofa and, just like Bella, fell asleep – only to wake with a start an hour or so later to a terrible deep, dark wail. She couldn’t understand for a moment what it was or where it was. A frightening, gutteral sound… like the cries women made in childbirth. She looked round the room and saw Bella lying on her side, close to her bed, her legs stiff and stretched out, wailing in pain.

  Tess felt panicked. She turned first of all to her phone lying on the floor beside the sofa. She wondered if she should phone Dave, hundreds of miles away looking after school children on a trip to St Ives. Maybe she should phone her own children… but what would they do? What could they do? How could they help her or Bella?

  This was going to be down to her. She would somehow have to step up and handle this. She would cope with this because mothers always find the strength to do these things – to give birth, to tend to the babies and the sick and to stay with the dying.

  ‘Hello, Bella, hello, darling,’ she said, kneeling beside the dog and running her hand gently, tenderly, comfortingly over the dog’s head and side.

  For almost an hour, Tess tried to comfort the beloved dog, she fed her medicine, she ran water over her dry, panting tongue, and she listened to the harsh rasp in Bella’s throat.

  Then she knew she had to get help. Surely she would be okay to drive to the vet now? And get the pain relief the dog needed.

  She phoned the number, jotted down the emergency contact details, made the second call and that was how she came to be driving slowly down a series of narrow roads with poor, aching, groaning Bella in the flattened front seat, wrapped in Tess’s fluffy dressing gown. Tess had one hand on the steering wheel, one hand on the dog’s head. She was talking reassuringly and as kindly as she could. She wished and wished this wasn’t happening, and she felt the enormity of this trip.

  This might be her last car ride with their dog.

  How many thousands of car rides had she made before with this lovely, gentle soul? Trips to the park, trips to the forest, the children giggling in the back seat, and Bella barking happily from the boot. In all the joy of taking small children and a delightful doggie to the beach, how could you possibly imagine that there would be a journey like this in the future?

  And just like that, very fond and funny memories rushed into her mind. The time Bella got lost on a country park walk and she and Natalie shouted so hard and for so long that they actually lost their voices for the rest of the day. And Alex had been so worried that he couldn’t go for a walk for months afterwards unless Bella was on the lead. The time Bella jumped up to the kitchen countertop and managed to wolf down an entire chicken just out of the oven. Tess had spent several minutes searching for that chicken, convinced she must have put it somewhere, before she’d finally realised what had happened. They’d had to go for fish and chips instead. For months, Natalie would mention it every time they had chicken: ‘Remember when Bella ate the whole chicken, Mummy. The whole chicken, in one big gulp.’

  By the time Tess pulled up in the animal hospital’s car park, Bella was wailing again, stretching out in pain and retching. Tess wasn’t going to leave her here like this, so she tooted her horn a few times, hoping this would bring someone out.

  Sure enough, a receptionist came to the doorway and asked: ‘Yes? Can I help you?’

  ‘I phoned… it’s my dog… she’s really ill. And I don’t think I can move her.’

  She was told that the vet would be out as soon as he could. So Tess went back into the car and spent several long minutes holding the dog’s old head in her hands, talking to her and trying to soothe her. But the panting and whining made it clear that Bella was in deep pain.

  The vet, when he arrived at the car door in pale blue scrubs, looked young and a little tired.

  ‘Hello there, I’m Stan,’ he said, ‘So… it’s not going so well here.’

  Stan knelt down at the door and gave Bella an initial examination. He put his stethoscope against her heart and against her stomach. He listened long and carefully. Then he took time to ask Tess detailed questions and consider her answers. He asked how old Bella was.

  ‘So, what’s the matter with her?’ Tess asked when the questions seemed to have come to an end. She realised she was trembling, too, frightened of the answer.

  ‘I’m really sorry, but I’m pretty certain that she’s dying,’ came the reply. ‘I think her kidneys have failed. She’s in a lot of pain and I’m going to give her a sedative now to help.’

  He picked up the scruff of Bella’s neck and injected deftly.

  Surprisingly quickly, Bella’s body relaxed, her breathing deepened, and the whimpering quietened. This meant that Tess could shift her focus from Bella’s precious old head to what Stan was saying.

  ‘She needs to go to sleep now, doesn’t she?’ Tess asked, ‘I mean… it’s time… to let her go?’

  She heard her voice break on the final words and, for several moments, she had to struggle hard to keep her face from crumpling.

  ‘Yes, I think that would be the kindest thing you could do for her now,’ Stan replied.

  ‘Do we need to bring her in to the surgery?’ Tess asked, her voice hoarse.

  ‘No, we’ll not move her now,’ Stan replied, ‘she looks comfortable. You get into the seat beside her and I’ll go and get what I need. I’ll be about ten minutes… would you like some more time, or does that sound okay?’

  Oh, the kindness of that question.

  Tess heard herself say, ‘Ten minutes is fine.’ But nothing about this was fine at all.

  She put her hands around the old dog’s face and used every one of the last remaining minutes to hold Bella and tell her what a wonderful dog she was. How much she was loved and how much fun she’d brought to them all. She named every family member in turn and thought she could see Bella’s ears twitch at the mention of Alex, then Natalie and Dave. She smoothed Bella’s ears, ran her hand down the warm fur and tried not to think about anything other than keeping Bella comfortable.

  And that was how Bella died, with her head in Tess’s lap, with Tess’s hands around her head and Tess holding back tears as she murmured gentle and comforting words of love.

  For some time afterwards, Tess sat in the car beside Bella’s body, without the calming rise and fall of Bella’s breath, and she tried to imagine her home without Bella’s presence. It would all be so unbearably neat and organised and tidy… not even any dog hair. Tears streamed down her face as she considered the loss of Alex, Natalie and now even Bella from her
daily life. No dog hair, no jumble of trainers to trip over in the hallway, no damp towels on the stairs, make-up stains on the sink, no dog lead hanging by the door. It was the end of an era, well before she was ready for it to end.

  There was paperwork to sign and Bella was taken out of the car, still – at Tess’s request – wrapped in her dressing gown. Bella and the dressing gown would be cremated and Tess would have to come back on Wednesday to collect the ashes. In the reception area, in the dazed aftermath of this trauma, Tess drank down a bitter, gritty coffee from the vending machine.

  The receptionist asked if she was okay to drive, or did she need a taxi?

  Tess felt barely able to answer the question. But she nevertheless convinced herself that she would be fine to drive. And drive through those familiar country lanes she did, in the dark, through a blizzard of tears. Crying so hard she could feel water pooling in the hollow at the base of her neck, and snot streaming from her nose. She hardly noticed the journey, but she did feel the shock of arriving home, knowing there was no Bella there to greet her and never would be again.

  This thought was so sad that she shut the front door and crumpled to the ground, where she keened her grief for many long minutes.

  When she finally stood up, she saw that it was after 11 p.m. She had no idea how it had got so late. There was a text on her phone from Dave to say goodnight because he was going to bed early… or, more likely, sneaking to the hotel bar with the rest of his frazzled colleagues.

  She couldn’t bear to call him or her children. Let them think that all was well and Bella was sleeping peacefully in her bed, for one more night, at least. Tess drank some water, then went through a half-baked version of her usual bedtime routine.

  When she lay back on her pillow, she heard the quiet and felt intensely alone. No Dave breathing peacefully beside her, no footsteps in the corridor of a teenager going to bed late. No Bella on semi-watchful sentry duty downstairs. Her unhappiness lay like a weight on her chest.

  ‘I can’t go on like this…’ Tess told herself. ‘Something has to change.’

  8

  It was after 7 p.m. when Tess heard Dave’s car pulling up in the driveway. She was on the sofa, her eyes swollen with crying, her nose swollen with crying, her head pounding with both crying and the half bottle of wine she’d drunk alongside her cheese toastie supper.

  ‘Helloooo!’ he called cheerily from the front door. ‘Daddy’s home! Where are my lovely girls?’

  He meant her and Bella, which just made Tess burst into a fresh round of tears.

  ‘In here,’ she croaked.

  Dave came into the room. He was stocky and broad-shouldered, his hair a bit overgrown, wearing his trademark denims with a colourful shirt and the black woollen coat she’d bought him for Christmas. He’d trimmed back his short salt-and-pepper beard while he’d been away.

  Dave took one look at her, dropped the bags he was carrying and rushed over.

  ‘Oh, Tess, what’s the matter? What’s happened? Is it…?’

  ‘It’s Bella,’ she said, before he got into a panic about the children or anyone else, ‘I’m so sorry… but she’s… she’s…’

  Her shoulders heaved and it took some effort to say the dreaded words: ‘She’s died.’

  Dave dropped down onto his haunches in front of her. His expression was astonished, full of concern and always so kind. Whatever else Dave could do to wind her up into the kind of fury that long-term married parents may feel for one another now and then, he could always be relied on to be kind. And she felt very glad to see him.

  ‘Oh, Tess… that’s awful. Why didn’t you call? Why didn’t you tell me? What happened?’

  She made room for him on the sofa, felt the weight of his arm around her shoulder, leaned into him and, a little consoled now, told him all about Bella’s last day on earth.

  When she was finished, he held her tightly and told her that she should have phoned, should have let him help her through it all. ‘You shouldn’t have had to do this all on your own,’ he said, almost annoyed.

  She put her hand into his and squeezed. ‘I know,’ she said, ‘but you were busy, responsible for other people’s children. I didn’t want you to worry, or be distracted, or tired.’

  He squeezed back and sighed.

  ‘The poor old doggie,’ he said quietly, ‘dear me, so many happy years with Bella. So… that just leaves us, then… dear, oh dear.’

  She saw the tearing in his eyes and with a broken, ‘I know,’ Tess burst into yet another round of tears.

  ‘Oh, God,’ she said, ‘when am I going to stop crying?’

  ‘Probably not for a few days,’ he said, blinking away his own tears, ‘remember when my mum…’

  She nodded, not wanting him to go on. When Dave’s lovely mum had died suddenly three years ago, she had not been able to stop crying for two weeks solid. It became almost comical… cooking while crying, cleaning the bath while crying, taking a work conference call while crying, bringing water bottles on every car trip because the risk of dehydration was real.

  She knew already that she was going to miss the everyday, constant presence of Bella for a long time.

  ‘Maybe we’ll get another dog,’ Dave said, ‘when we’re ready…’

  But she shook her head. Just now, the idea of being so fond and so distraught all over again was terrible. The abrupt ring of the home landline was an intrusion into their mournful quiet.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ Dave said, already up on his feet.

  ‘Hello, Alex, how are you doing?’

  Tess sat up and instantly felt a little better. This was Alex, their twenty-two-year-old, who rarely called, so it was always a treat to talk to him.

  ‘Good… good… good to hear it… that’s great…’ Dave was saying.

  Tess let Dave talk, of course, but she was impatient to get hold of the receiver herself and listen to Alex’s voice, to hear how things were really going for him. He prided himself on being independent and strong, but she worried about him. She remembered from her own experience that the first years out of uni could be really hard. The world of work was not usually all that you thought it would be.

  ‘Hello, my darling,’ she said, when it was finally her turn to talk, ‘how are you doing?’

  ‘I’m good… it’s all good,’ he said, but she listened hard to hear what he really sounded like. And she thought his voice was definitely bright, but maybe tired too.

  ‘Long days?’ she asked. ‘I hope you’re not working too hard.’

  ‘No, it’s really fine. It’s going well.’

  She asked about London. Where had he been? What had he done? And enjoyed his replies, full of detail and description.

  ‘I’m really looking forward to seeing you,’ she told him, ‘and really catching up with you and Natalie on the holiday.’

  ‘Mum…’ just the word was enough. She read the tone and in her mind she could already see roadblock ahead.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Mum… I don’t want this to be hard… I really don’t want to let you down.’

  ‘But… Alex… you can’t…’ she warned him.

  ‘Mum… it’s just not going to work for me… I can’t get that amount of time off. All the senior staff take time off in the summer. The juniors have to cover.’

  ‘But I told you to ask for it weeks ago, months ago… I told you to tell them it was exceptional circumstances… Alex! You can’t let me down on this. The holiday is only three weeks away now…’

  ‘Please don’t cry, Mum,’ he said. ‘Please don’t do that.’

  She hadn’t even realised she was, because since this morning she’d cried more than she hadn’t.

  ‘Look… I can probably take a week, maybe even ten days. Why don’t I come for the last part of it?’

  ‘But you’ll miss out on so much… I mean, travelling across Vietnam and into Cambodia. You’ll miss all of that. Do you really want to miss that? It’s all booked, all paid for… I know it soun
ds like such a cliché, but it really will be the holiday of a lifetime!’

  Her voice sounded high and shrill. And she sounded angry, which wasn’t right, because she wasn’t angry, she was distraught and a little desperate. She so wanted him to be there with them. Why didn’t he get that? Yes, maybe three weeks was too much to ask from a fiercely independent twenty-two-year-old. But he’d agreed, he’d said yes and he’d sounded really enthusiastic when she’d first started planning all of this.

  ‘Can I think about it?’ he asked and she could feel herself balling her hand in frustration. It was his pet phrase, his get-out clause, his decision-ducking tactic.

  ‘Yes… please think about it. I’ll call you tomorrow. And I love you, Alex.’

  Only when she replaced the receiver did she realise she hadn’t even told him about Bella.

  She turned to Dave and began with, ‘Alex…’

  ‘I think I gathered. Look, give him a bit of time and I’ll try to talk to him as well. Why don’t you give Natalie a call?’ he suggested, knowing this might be a soothing move. When Natalie’s exams had finished in May, she’d gone out to the south of Spain to teach English and seemed to be having an amazing time.

  ‘I think I’ll round up Bella’s things and put them into the attic,’ Dave added.

  Was it worth putting them in the attic, Tess wondered? Shouldn’t they give them to a dog shelter or something like that? Right now, the thought of having another dog was impossible. And it wouldn’t be any less tragic to come across Bella’s things years later in the attic. But as she couldn’t bear to part with them today, she found herself agreeing with Dave.

  Then she couldn’t help reminding him. ‘Use the proper metal ladder, not that rickety old wooden one, and when you’re ready I’ll come and hold it steady for you. There’s that floorboard gap, and I don’t want you to…’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ Dave said, almost out of the room. ‘I’ll call for you.’