City Under the Waves - 8. Chapter 8

Barely aware, she was raised to her feel and led firmly from the room. Sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of Brandy in her hands she began to shake uncontrollably. Her grandmother’s stern countenance melted.

“There, there sweetheart. Someone will be here soon and then it will all be alright.” She went cold ‘Someone will be here soon?’ Someone had already been; that was the trouble. Setting down her drink she laid her arms on the kitchen table and, resting her head on them sobbed as though her heart would break; which, had she but known it, was very close to happening. If it had, all would have been lost.

The knock on the door was sharp and businesslike. Mererid froze, her heart pounding and her grandmother hurried to answer it. She heard male voices, footsteps on the stairs and then silence. Her grandmother came back and sat at the table with her, holding her hand. Their eyes were very alike as they met and held, closer than they had been for many years, united in shock and fear. They had drifted somewhat lately, since she had ‘grown up’. The holidays here had dried up, replaced by clubs and friends in the city.

She and Marc had been so absorbed in each other; too close perhaps. They did everything together, went to the same places; had had the same friends, the same interests, taste in music, favourite food. They were more than brother and sister, more that just twins; they were almost like the same person; except that Marc was more… withdrawn. He lived inside his head and, although he followed her on all of her wild escapades, willingly for the most part, he would have preferred to sit in front of a computer and write or read his vast collection of books on myths, old religions and magic. Except when it came alive on the outside when it was he who led and she who followed with a good deal more reluctant.

And now... now it was just her. She could feel it inside; an emptiness that terrified her. The space where he used to be was cold and she shivered wondering what it meant. Was it just that he was sick, for the first time ever fighting battles on his own that she could not help him with… or was it more? Was he already lost to her?

Unable to bear the waiting she got up and began to pace the kitchen, absently picking things up and putting them down again. Footsteps on the stairs made them both look up and their eyes met again. The footsteps went outside and in a few moments came back and up the stairs again. Time stretched.

Eventually there were heavier steps; more of them and after a few moments the door opened and John entered looking grim. He addressed himself to Gwen.

“They are taking him to the hospital. I think you should go with him. I will bring Meri in the car and meet you there.”

“But… no, please. Let me go with him, please.”

“No, Meri. You can come with me.” There was something in his voice and the look he exchanged with her grandmother over her head that pierced her heart like a knife and stole her will to fight him. With lead feet she dragged herself to the desperately empty room and, for a time just threw clothes out onto the bed, unable to focus sufficiently to choose anything to put on. By the time she got back to the kitchen the ambulance had already screamed away into the night and she was lost and ridiculously alone.

At first she could not find her grandfather and she panicked. Stepping outside into the fragrant cool night she took deep lungfulls of the sweet air and began to feel a little steadier. She stared out across the village to the darkness beyond which lay the marsh and the lake, wondering where Gwyon was, what he was doing… and Celyn. Were they asleep? Was their sleep disturbed by dreams? Did they know of this terrible thing that was happening to her?

She wandered across the road towards the river and stood, staring at the flickering silver waters. This river flowed all the way to the lake, this water, this same water touched the sunken buildings and moved the weed that choked the dancefloor in the harpists’ hall. It was in this water that the drowned hands had tried to pull her down and Marc had saved her.

Leaning against a tree she closed her eyes and all the things that had happened to them both from the moment they first set eyes on the lake, flowed into her mind and through her soul. If only she had stopped him; that very first time, if only she had followed her heart and stopped him going to the lake. But in the same moment she realised that it was futile dreaming… there would have been no way that she could have stopped him. There never was. Marc was so amenable most of the time, followed willingly where she led, but when he had his own agenda there was nothing and no one that could divert him.

The sound of her name called softly startled her out of her reverie and she turned to find her grandfather peering into the darkness, calling her. She hurried back towards the house and he smiled his relief.

“I thought I had lost you. Are you ready?”

“Yes, fine, let’s go.”

“Should I be… you know… taking stuff for Marc? Will he be wanting … pyjamas and stuff.”

He smiled sadly and gently. “I don’t think he will be wanting anything just now Meri. It isn’t that far, I can always come back for anything he needs.”

“Oh, alright. I have never done this before. I don’t know what… I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything. Do you want to stay here? Go back to bed?”

“NO! That isn’t what I meant. I can’t. I want… I have to be with Marc.”

“Alright. I’ll get the car. Lock up and I will meet you in the lane.”

They did not talk for a time as they drove into a night that was hostile; hiding secrets. They drove slowly and carefully. It was almost as though he was holding back, not wanting to reach their destination too soon. Mererid was in turmoil. So much had happened in so short a time that her mind could not begin to process it.

“I think you ought to tell me what has been going on Meri.”

“What?” She was startled out of her thoughts.

“I know that something happened yesterday, out in the marsh. I understand that it might be difficult for you to talk about but no one is going to be able to help Marc unless they know what is happening to him.”

“Do you think I know what it was? If I knew I would tell you, I swear. Nothing happened, Grandad, nothing that could have caused this.”

“How did he come to fall into the marsh Meri?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see...”

“What about that friend of yours? Where did he come from? Who is he? Did he see?”

“I don’t know Grandad. Really. We met him by the lake. I don’t really know him. He just helped.”

“He seemed to know a lot about you, for someone you had only just met.”

“Maybe he is just that kind of person. Please Grandad, I have told you all I can, don’t keep on at me I can’t stand it.”

“Meri; you should realise.” He paused, rubbing his face with his hand, clearly choosing his words carefully. “This is a serious situation. I don’t want to frighten you but… there was a moment… we… well we almost lost him Meri. I have never been so afraid. But I have a strong feeling that when we get to the hospital we will find that no one is going to be able to explain what is wrong with him. Am I right?”

She hung her head, her heart pounding. Feeling like a trapped animal she nodded dumbly.

“I am not a fool. I have open eyes and an open mind. Those marshes are dangerous in more ways than one. That is why I was so angry last night that you had been there… and with that boy.”

“Celyn? Surely you don’t think…”

“That he might have something to do with this? Yes, I do think that but not in the way you might believe. I know that he is… different. And so are you; both of you. I have always known that. When I was a boy I roamed those marshes from end to end. I heard the same stories you have and I had the same dreams. I know that Marc has been dragging you around for years looking for something… and last night, when you brought him home all I could think about was that he had finally found it and that whatever it was; it was… choking him.

“I know there are more things in the marsh than I have ever found; even though I have searched. I think you may have found some of them. If that is the case then you should not be afraid of telling me about it. I am not so sure how much the doctors at the hospital will accept but, be sure that I will. Please Meri; this may be the only chance he has don’t deny it to him because you are afraid I won’t believe you.”

For a long time she looked at him, thinking. “This is not my Grandad. This is not the solid, sensible man I have known all my life. Everything has changed, everything, even him.” And then she told him. After the first few sentences he pulled the car over to the side of the road so that he could listen with all his attention. Stumbling and struggling still to remember parts of what had happened, she told him everything. When she had finished there was silence save for the hum of the engine.

“Thank you Meri. I appreciate how hard it was for you to tell me that. I can’t say that I understand what has been going on but I do understand that you have both done what you felt you had to do. I am proud of you both. However…you have put me in a very difficult position.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am now going to have to lie to the doctors.”

“We…ell you COULD tell the truth; but I think that if you did you would be admitted to a different kind of hospital… or should that be committed?”

After the events of the past two days it was surreal to walk into the bright, bustling, ordered world of the hospital. Mererid was completely disoriented; her senses overloaded and she stood, staring blankly at the burbling television screen in the corner whilst her grandfather took charge and stood in the queue at the reception desk to find out what was happening.

It did not take long. Within a few minutes he was back and steering her towards a door which was opened by a nurse with a freckled face and quirky smile. She looked little older than Mererid herself and again it was uncomfortable to be following her through pale green corridors to another door which she opened for them.

It was a waiting room of some kind, with a box of bright plastic toys in the corner and a television set playing children’s’ cartoons on continuous loop. Some effort had been made to make it seem inviting, in that there was wallpaper on the walls, with one half of one of the walls bearing chalk paper already mostly obscured by the blur of half wiped creations. Along another wall was a set of kitchen cabinets, top and bottom which served as storage for more toys and to support, just out of children reach, a kettle and selection of sachet hot drinks. Nearby a water cooler bubbled softly.

Gwen was sitting on the edge of one of the softish pale green plastic/leather chairs, staring into a cooling cup of coffee, her face grey in the harsh lighting. She looked up when the door opened and, when she saw John she discarded her cup on the low table and threw herself into his arms with an anguished cry.

“Can you make us a fresh coffee Mererid sweetheart, I think we could all do with one, it is three in the morning after all.”

“But I want to know…”

“Meri, honey, let me just have a moment with your grandmother, please.”

Reluctantly she went to the cupboard and bent to fill the kettle from the water cooler, which was the only water source in evidence. She could hear the soft voices of her grandparents speaking together earnestly, keeping the pitch low enough for her not to be able to hear a thing no matter how hard she strained. It was not encouraging to see the expression on her grandfather’s face change and close; or to see the hot tears scouring her grandmother’s face.

Before the kettle had boiled both grandparents turned to her and motioned her to go to them. She sat down where indicated and became incredibly uneasy as they took up station; one on either side, and took her hands. Fear began to rise and she felt as though she were going to choke on it.

“What… what’s happening? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Meri, your grandmother does not think that we should talk to you about this but I think it would be incredibly unfair of us not to. This is hard for me to say but I’m not going to insult you by suggesting it is anything like as difficult as it is going to be for you to hear.”

Mererid knew that he was waffling in order to settle her and prepare her to hear bad news, but she didn’t want to be settled, she couldn’t be. She just wanted to know; the not knowing was excruciating.

“Grandad, please… just tell me.” she paused, struggling with the urge to run. “Only please… please don’t… just don’t tell me that he’s dead.”

“No… no sweetheart, he isn’t dead. He is hanging in there but…“ he paused, searching her face with his eyes and sighed deeply, gripping her hand tightly. “On the way to the hospital in the ambulance there were… difficulties. For a time they thought we were going to lose him but… I don’t need to tell you that Marc is a fighter. He… came through but… Unsurprisingly the doctors don’t have a clue what’s wrong with him. There is very little they can do for him and… “ he dropped his eyes.

Meri was frozen. She wanted him to stop and she wanted him to go on. Feeling sick to the pit of her stomach and, at the same time strangely empty she dropped her head and stared at her feet, noticing that the toes of her trainers were muddy.

“Meri; the doctors are not hopeful. They don’t think… “ His voice cracked and he faltered.

Gwen put her arm around her and pulled her head down onto her shoulder. She was crying. “Oh my darling; my darling, I am so sorry but…we’re going to lose him Meri; we’re going to lose him.”

Meri was aware of the presence of both grandparents, the pressure of her grandfather’s hand on hers, the weight of her grandmother’s arm on her shoulders; but other than this she was numb, her body rigid between them; her eyes staring but seeing nothing. A black hole had opened in the centre of her being and it had sucked all of the warmth out of the world. It had consumed her mind. Nothing was making sense; nothing was sinking in.

The grip on her hand intensified. “Meri, you have to face this sweetheart. Not listening; not believing is not going to make it go away. You have to be strong.”

“Why?”

“Sorry?”

“Why do I have to be strong?”

“Because if you are not then we are going to have to take you home and, if I know you at all, I think that you would prefer to be here, with Marc.”

Withdrawing from both of them she pulled her knees up on the chair and, resting her arms on them, buried her face in her hands.

“I have called your mother sweetheart. She will be here soon.”

Meri was confused; she could not comprehend why they would have called her mother. What did this have to do with her? “Mam? Why?”

“Oh Meri, please sweetheart, I know this is hard for you, harder than for any of us but please… “

“Mererid, of course your mother should be here; your father too if he was in the country. It may be that he will want to fly back early.” And she could no longer ignore it. The undeniable reality of her father cutting short a business trip and her mother dropping everything to run here could no longer be denied. It was impossible to ask why they would do that without supplying the answer; of course they would; what else would any parent do when their only son was dying. They would want to be with him as much as she did.

“No…” shaking her head she buried it in her hands again, her shoulders shaking as the damn burst. She wanted to scream; she wanted to run; she wanted to tear the pictures off the wall and smash the stupid television. She did nothing but rock back and forth trying to squeeze into a tiny ball; to force out the tumult of pain and sorrow swirling within her; to shut out the world; the truth.

The sound of the door opening intruded on her pain and she looked up, angry at the interruption. It was a young woman in the white coat of a doctor. She was unsmiling and grim and she was startled to see Mererid. It did not, for an instant, occur to her why.

Both John and Gwen were on their feet the moment the door opened, their faces anxious; hope and dread mixed in equal measure.

“How is he?”

“The same. I wish that I could tell you he was better; that we had found something we could treat. I… we are doing all we can but it is precious little. Frankly, I am surprise he’s hung on this long. I’m afraid I can’t give you any hope. His heart is failing and I don’t know why. There are only so many times we can re start it before it becomes hopeless or… pointless.”

“So that’s it? We have to just sit and wait for him to die?”

She knew that it was unreasonable being angry with the doctor: she didn’t know; she couldn’t know. But she had to be angry with someone and if not the doctor then it would have to be herself.

“No. No, you sit and hope. Hope for a miracle.”

“Is that what he needs… a miracle? Is that the only hope?”

“All I can say is that I… we are doing all we can; and it isn’t enough. I am sorry. I really am very sorry but… it isn’t enough.”

The doctor looked genuinely concerned and Mererid began to feel sorry for her. Of course it wasn’t enough, how could it be?

“Can I be with my brother now?”

“Of course you can. I will take you. He’s in a private room so you can stay with him for as long as you like.”

Mererid opened her mouth to say something but had enough sense to close it again, leaving her grandmother to murmur. “Thank you.”

They followed the doctor down a corridor to where it forked in two. On each side were the impressions of long windows curtained off with nurse stations in front of them; flashing computer screens and hospital equipment scattered, seemingly randomly in the corridor.

Turning to the left the stopped in front of a door and suddenly Mererid froze and could not move forward for her life.

“I can’t.”

“What? What is it darling? Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid. I… I just can’t. I don’t want to see him… I… not like that. I can’t.”

She half turned away but a hand on her arm stopped her. It was the young doctor.

“It’s alright. I know how frightening it is. This is a weird world; not what you are used to. I know that it is easy to feel lost in it and helpless and out of control. But it’s only stuff: all this. It’s… a bedroom with…lots of stuff. And…er… it’s just your brother, the same as ever, and he needs you.”

“Does he? Does he even know? If I am there; if I am not there. Would it make any difference to him?”

“I don’t know. I can’t tell you that. But it will make a difference to you.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, I don’t know you, but I think I know what kind of person you are. You are a good person and you are close to your brother. If you walk away… if you leave him now… and you don’t come back until it is too late; then you will never forgive yourself.”

Horror stricken Mererid stared at her with wide eyes and then she nodded and bowed her head, following meekly; and the doctor was right, it was just a bedroom, not a nice one but that didn’t matter. There wasn’t really that much stuff at all and it was just Marc and he looked like he was just asleep. She wanted to reach out and wake him but she knew she couldn’t and for a moment it was all too much and she swayed as the room faded.

“Steady girl.” Her grandfather’s strong arm around her shoulders grounded her and everything settled back into place. Smiling up at him gratefully she noticed how pale he was; the lines of his face etched deeply. Glancing across she could see that her grandmother was the same. Guilt overwhelmed her. She was behaving like a child and they were suffering too; they were being strong for her.

“I’m sorry Grandad. I’m alright now.”

There had been a nurse sitting at the side of the bed, reading a book. The doctor nodded to her and she got up and hurried out, smiling gently.

Mererid was as lost as she had ever been; she had no idea what to do. She looked at her grandmother with desperate eyes. She smiled.

“It’s alright sweetheart, you can touch him; he won’t break.”

There was a long padded bench along the side of the bed. Uncertainly she sat down and reached for his hand. It was icy cold. For some reason she was shocked.

“He’s so cold. Can’t you do something to make him warm?”

“It’s because his heart isn’t working properly,” the doctor explained. “It isn’t pumping the blood round his body as it should and so it isn’t getting to his hands and feet. That’s why they are so cold.”

“Does he feel the cold?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I have no idea if he feels anything at all.”

“This is hard.”

“I know. I wish I could make it easier but I can’t.” The doctor gave her a rueful smile. “I’ll give you some time. I’ll be just outside if you need me.”