Num8ers - By Rachel Ward Page 0,101

ward, drugged up, sedated. I can’t remember exactly when — just that, one day, I realized I couldn’t see them. They were gone. I felt sad to lose something that had been a part of me for so long. But I felt relieved, too. It took away something that I’d been dreading — the moment I would have to look in my newborn baby’s eyes and see his death date. That day, I realized that I could face the future, whatever it would bring. I could have Spider’s child, and we could have a life together.

Anyway, I didn’t forget the numbers that I’d already seen. So I knew when Karen was due to check out. She didn’t know, though, obviously, and her illness, her disability, really got to her. The last few weeks, she was really depressed. I mean, desperate. She kept having more strokes. Every time she got a little bit better, another one would come along and wipe out the progress. It was frightening for her, I know it was.

She begged me to help her end it, exhausting herself, forcing the words out. “Please, Jem. I’ve had enough.” Pleading with her eyes. I told her not to be so daft. What would we do without her? Adam loved his nana. Her eyes brimmed over. She loved him, too, loved him to pieces, but she’d gone past logic — she was in a dark and lonely place.

I guess the strain of caring for her really got to me. I used to lie awake at night, torturing myself with these awful thoughts. What if that’s what was meant to happen? What if I was meant to help her end it?

As the day got nearer, I got more and more on edge. She kept going on — wouldn’t talk about anything else. The last time I took her to the toilet, we had a dreadful time getting her settled. Finally installed on the seat, she just slumped there, crying her eyes out with the humiliation of it all. Perhaps I let it all go on too long. Maybe I should have asked Social Services for help. Looking back now, I can see that it had got to be too much for both of us.

I got her back to bed. She was still upset. We both were. She tried to twist ’round, managed to get hold of one of her pillows. “Just hold it, Jem.” She tried moving it up to her face, but she couldn’t manage.

“No, Karen. Stop it.”

“Please, Jem. I’m tired.”

I took the pillow out of her hands. It would be so easy to do it, press it up against her, lean my weight in. It was what she wanted.

Then Adam came into the room.

“Mum, I’m thirsty. I want a drink.”

That snapped me out of it. I helped Karen to lean forward and propped the pillow firmly behind her back.

“I think we all do, darlin’,” I said. “Let’s make a cup of tea.”

I put some juice in a bottle for Adam and some tea in another one for Karen — like I said, it was like having two kids. I sat with her and held the bottle up to her mouth.

“That’s it,” I said, “everything seems better with a nice cup of tea.” She managed half a smile with the bit of her face that still moved.

“Do you want some biscuit?” She nodded, and I dipped a biscuit into my tea so it was nice and soggy, and fed her. And then it happened. She started choking. I put everything down and slapped her on the back. She was gasping, fighting for breath. I couldn’t do nothing to help. I ran into the hall and grabbed the phone. The ambulance was there within ten minutes, but it was too late. She’d gone.

Adam had seen it all. I should’ve kept him out of the way, but I was so busy trying to help Karen.

“What’s wrong with Nana?” he asked. I took him into the front room, and sat him on my lap.

“She’s gone, darlin’. She’s died.”

“Like Daddy?” I was always telling Adam about his dad. I wanted him to know about him, how special he was.

“Yes, just like Daddy.”

That was the other thing I’ve been doing, you see. I’ve brought Adam up, been a mum and a dad to him. I know I’m not unique doing this. There’s thousands, millions of single parents, but when it’s you, and your own childhood wasn’t exactly rosy, it feels like a big deal to