couldn’t pretend. He found a way through the situation, of course, protesting that they could find another specialist, both have more tests, that they could even investigate getting IVF privately. And he told her that a disabled child would be so demanding she would have to give up everything else she liked doing.
‘Think of my mum,’ he told her. ‘Think of Bobby.’
‘I am thinking of Bobby,’ she countered. ‘Bobby’s lovely.’
So now he felt even guiltier, for not only did he not love his beautiful wife but he appeared to be retrospectively rejecting his own brother.
On and off, for what felt like weeks, they argued in exhausting circles until sometimes it seemed to Ben that she too had sensed what the situation had revealed about his feelings towards her and was goading him to a confession. The more opposition she faced – and in a rash moment he had drawn her parents into the discussion, so the opposition was considerable – the more determined she became until her simple faith in the rightness of what she wanted them to do and their ability to do it came to seem almost religious.
Relief arrived from an unexpected quarter when his mother grew sick. No one had expected her to die. She developed ovarian cancer. She had an ovarectomy and hysterectomy and underwent chemotherapy, which appeared to have worked. But then the cancer recurred, this time in her spine, and, still weakened by treatment of the initial outbreak, she declined further intervention and deteriorated and died with bewildering speed.
Diverted from their own cares, both Chloë and Ben visited the sad little household regularly throughout her illness and the aftermath of her death, Ben often electing to stay for weekends because Bobby was so miserable. It soon became apparent that Bobby could not cope without his mother or was too depressed to try. They fixed him up with care workers to call in every day to see how he was, to check he was eating and cleaning properly,but he hated that and wouldn’t let them in half the time. So, egged on by Chloë, whose bank had made major donations to the place, Ben took him on a trial visit to a residential community in Devon, a sort of village where people with Down’s Syndrome and other learning challenges were supposed to enjoy a kind of idyllic independence farming and making pots and rugs. But Bobby fled back to Winchester in days, saying he hated the country, loathed handicrafts and didn’t see why he should be stuck with a load of mongs . And once again he showed every sign of depression, not eating, not getting up, not showing up for work and even getting repeatedly drunk and abusive.
There seemed no choice left them, since Bobby vociferously refused to be prised out of his childhood home again, even to join Chloë and Ben in London, and Ben had moved to join him in Winchester until the crisis had passed and a long-term solution could be found. At first he commuted, living with Bobby in Winchester and catching a daily train, Tube and bus to the Chelsea and Westminster, but a couple of daytime crises, the second of which involved a clumsy overdose of aspirins, convinced him to take the Winchester job so he could be never more than fifteen minutes from his brother’s side.
Chloë claimed she understood but there was an obdurate quality to her acceptance. She did not offer to come with him and when, a little late, he suggested she could, that they could let the flat to cover the costs of commuting, she only said a sad, ‘Well, let’s see.’
She had visited him a few times and he had visited her but it was so horrible that suddenly it felt like just that – visiting – not like the simple resumption of married continuity. His mother’s house was so small and there was so little privacy with Bobby about the place. The last time he slipped up to London for a weekend they had hideously unsuccessful sex (definitely not lovemaking) after which he actually found himself weeping in the bathroom.
‘Think of my mum,’ he told her. ‘Think of Bobby.’
‘I am thinking of Bobby,’ she countered. ‘Bobby’s lovely.’
So now he felt even guiltier, for not only did he not love his beautiful wife but he appeared to be retrospectively rejecting his own brother.
On and off, for what felt like weeks, they argued in exhausting circles until sometimes it seemed to Ben that she too had sensed what the situation had revealed about his feelings towards her and was goading him to a confession. The more opposition she faced – and in a rash moment he had drawn her parents into the discussion, so the opposition was considerable – the more determined she became until her simple faith in the rightness of what she wanted them to do and their ability to do it came to seem almost religious.
Relief arrived from an unexpected quarter when his mother grew sick. No one had expected her to die. She developed ovarian cancer. She had an ovarectomy and hysterectomy and underwent chemotherapy, which appeared to have worked. But then the cancer recurred, this time in her spine, and, still weakened by treatment of the initial outbreak, she declined further intervention and deteriorated and died with bewildering speed.
Diverted from their own cares, both Chloë and Ben visited the sad little household regularly throughout her illness and the aftermath of her death, Ben often electing to stay for weekends because Bobby was so miserable. It soon became apparent that Bobby could not cope without his mother or was too depressed to try. They fixed him up with care workers to call in every day to see how he was, to check he was eating and cleaning properly,but he hated that and wouldn’t let them in half the time. So, egged on by Chloë, whose bank had made major donations to the place, Ben took him on a trial visit to a residential community in Devon, a sort of village where people with Down’s Syndrome and other learning challenges were supposed to enjoy a kind of idyllic independence farming and making pots and rugs. But Bobby fled back to Winchester in days, saying he hated the country, loathed handicrafts and didn’t see why he should be stuck with a load of mongs . And once again he showed every sign of depression, not eating, not getting up, not showing up for work and even getting repeatedly drunk and abusive.
There seemed no choice left them, since Bobby vociferously refused to be prised out of his childhood home again, even to join Chloë and Ben in London, and Ben had moved to join him in Winchester until the crisis had passed and a long-term solution could be found. At first he commuted, living with Bobby in Winchester and catching a daily train, Tube and bus to the Chelsea and Westminster, but a couple of daytime crises, the second of which involved a clumsy overdose of aspirins, convinced him to take the Winchester job so he could be never more than fifteen minutes from his brother’s side.
Chloë claimed she understood but there was an obdurate quality to her acceptance. She did not offer to come with him and when, a little late, he suggested she could, that they could let the flat to cover the costs of commuting, she only said a sad, ‘Well, let’s see.’
She had visited him a few times and he had visited her but it was so horrible that suddenly it felt like just that – visiting – not like the simple resumption of married continuity. His mother’s house was so small and there was so little privacy with Bobby about the place. The last time he slipped up to London for a weekend they had hideously unsuccessful sex (definitely not lovemaking) after which he actually found himself weeping in the bathroom.
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