would have been our wedding anniversary next month, so he called it the Great Anniversary Road Trip. I thought it really mattered to him.’
She paused and took another sip of wine.
‘Then his condition deteriorated. Not tremendously, but noticeably. Ken said we’d never be able to do the trip, that he’d be in a wheelchair before long. I told him that even if he was, he’d still be well enough to make it, and he didn’t have to worry about a thing because I could do all the driving. I guess that was a mistake. He said that I was enjoying being the one in charge a bit too much, that it was clear I was only putting up with him and that the sooner he was dead, the better.’
‘That must have been awful for both of you.’
‘He was frustrated and I couldn’t blame him. I asked him how far he’d got with the planning, because he’d spent so much time on it. He’d said it was all sorted. Everything was booked. He’d put all the information on his computer. I said I’d been looking forward to it for ages and that there was no way I wasn’t going to go. I thought it would spur him on, make him feel more positive about it himself.’
She drained her glass of Chablis and for a moment Deira thought she was going to order another. But instead she filled her water tumbler from the jug on the table.
‘People who are well spend a lot of time telling people who are ill to be positive. To fight and never give up. It’s arrogant of us really. Anyone living with a long-term condition is entitled to be negative if they want. But they’re bombarded by stories about others who’ve done great things despite living with illness. Their role models are supposed to be anyone who’s trekked the Himalayas or organised massive fund-raisers for research or had a glittering career like Stephen Hawking, and it’s hard to live up to that. It’s like saying you’re not allowed to feel bad because you’re sick. It’s pressure you can do without.’
Deira nodded slowly.
‘All the same, Ken eventually came around to the idea that we could do the trip together,’ continued Grace. ‘He became quite animated about it, spent more time on the computer – he told me he was streamlining everything – and he even said he hoped he’d be able to drive a bit of the way. I said I hoped so too, although to be honest, I wouldn’t have dreamt of allowing him behind the wheel. But I wasn’t going to upset him by saying otherwise. He seemed so gung-ho all of a sudden. I was delighted. And relieved. And then, the following week, when I was out at night for the first time in months, he took our car and drove it off Howth pier.’
Deira looked at her in complete shock. Even though she’d heard what Grace had said, it was taking her time to process the reality of it.
‘He drowned, of course.’ Grace’s voice was calm and steady once again as she continued speaking without waiting for a response from Deira. ‘There wasn’t a chance that he could be saved. If I’d been more alert, I might have guessed what he’d planned. I might have been able to stop him.’
‘Maybe it was an accident,’ said Deira.
‘That’s what everyone wanted to think,’ said Grace. ‘It’s what I want to think too. But Ken wouldn’t have done something like that by accident. I know he wouldn’t. He did it because . . . because he couldn’t live with me any more and he didn’t trust me to . . .’ She broke off. ‘I was his wife and I wasn’t enough to stop him.’
‘You shouldn’t blame yourself,’ said Deira.
Grace couldn’t count the number of times people had said that to her.
‘There are times when I feel he wanted me to blame myself,’ she told Deira.
‘Oh no, Grace, I’m sure he didn’t. He probably wasn’t thinking straight.’
‘Ken prided himself on the clarity of his thinking,’ said Grace. ‘He didn’t have time for people who, as he put it, emoted.’
When Deira spoke again, her words were slow and thoughtful.
‘You said he was an academic, like Professor Hawking. A physicist?’
‘No,’ said Grace. ‘He lectured in English literature.’
‘Your name is Grace Garvey. But was he Professor Garvey?’
Grace shook her head. ‘He was Kenneth Harrington. I didn’t change my name when I got married because it was too much faff at