Part One Hundred And Eighty Two
After Karen and Yvonne had left, George made herself a cup of very strong coffee and walked back to the bedroom. At first glance, Jo looked to be asleep, but George had the distinct feeling that she wasn't. Sitting down in the armchair in the corner of the room, George was reminded of Karen's words, "Questions come tomorrow." Therefore, until tomorrow, George had to leave any initiative to talk up to Jo. Karen had also told her to keep an eye on Jo every couple of hours, but George was going to do better than that. She had so many thoughts buzzing round in her head, that she knew sleep was out of the question. So, she may as well keep an eye on Jo for the whole night. If she hadn't taken her bad feeling about Jo seriously, Jo would be dead now. She wasn't going to take her eyes off her for more than a few minutes at a time until she was absolutely sure that Jo was going to be okay. She shed some silent tears for how close they'd really come to losing Jo. George wasn't stupid, she knew just how much Karen had kept from them all, even Yvonne. If Jo's heartbeat had been allowed to get any slower, she really could have died. "George," Jo said in to the silence. "Please don't cry." "I thought you were asleep," Said George miserably. "Hardly," Said Jo with a smile. "You're one of the loudest thinkers I've ever met. Your silence says so much it could wake the dead." "That isn't funny," George said sternly. "I know," Said Jo, thinking that she was becoming slightly hysterical. "Call it delayed shock." "I'm not going to continue this conversation, Jo, or I'll start demanding explanations, and I promised Karen I wouldn't do that until she's seen you tomorrow. But I'm so furious with you," She ended in a tone of pain rather than one of anger. George stood up and made to walk out of the room, but Jo put out a hand to stop her. "George, please don't go," She asked gently. George stopped at the end of the bed and looked at her. "There's part of me," She said unsteadily, "That doesn't want to be anywhere near you because I could slap you for what you almost achieved tonight. But the rest of me doesn't want to let you out of my sight for even a second in case you try it again." "I'm sorry," Said Jo quietly. "Are you?" Asked George, the disbelief all too evident. "Yes," Confirmed Jo. "The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you." "And just what do you think killing yourself would have done?" George demanded. "Not just to me, but to John as well." "George, please don't do this now," Pleaded Jo. "Fine," Said George, turning from the bed. "But rest assured, this isn't over, not by a long way."
George went and had a cigarette in the lounge to try and calm herself down. There would be time enough tomorrow to get angry with Jo, she shouldn't be doing that now. But what in the world had led Jo to attempt such a thing. Even at her lowest moments, George could never have gone through with something like that because of the effect she knew it would have had on John. But Jo seemed to have somehow got passed this little obstacle. George shuddered when she thought of what John would have done if they hadn't managed to save Jo. Neil's fury at her failing to get Atkins and Merriman found not guilty wouldn't have even come close. If John ever lost Jo, he would self-destruct. She was old and wise enough to realise that her own death would not have had quite such a dramatic effect on him, but she doubted whether he would ever survive if Jo died before he did. Good god, she thought, shaking herself out of the mood of sheer solemnity she seemed to have fallen in to, now wasn't the time for dwelling on anyone's reaction to losing someone else. John would have quite enough to say when he found out about this. Trying to plan ahead for the form that reaction might take was useless. Stubbing out her cigarette, George made her way back to the bedroom to see that Jo was still awake, waiting for her. "The smell of that cigarette is driving me mad," Jo said in greeting. "Tough," George replied curtly. "You should be getting some sleep." "So should you," Countered Jo. "I've been instructed to keep an eye on you." "I'm not going anywhere." Taking a breath to throw back an angry response, George remembered her resolve of minutes earlier not to get angry with Jo and shut her mouth again. Asking if she could borrow something to sleep in, George undressed, and after cleaning her teeth, crawled under the duvet, immediately turning her back on Jo. They lay there for a while, not speaking, both thinking. But George couldn't keep up this level of separation for more than half an hour. Jo had been waiting for her to turn over, knowing that George's need for closeness would eventually outweigh her will to punish. When George did turn over to face her, Jo could see the tears glistening in her eyes like dew on a moonlit lawn. As their arms instinctively reached out for each other, Jo winced when the capped end of the needle in her arm jarred against the pillow. "What?" Asked George hurriedly. "Sh," Jo said softly. "Just the needle Karen left in my arm." "She wanted to leave it there till tomorrow in case of any unforeseen complications, to save her putting a new one in, or something like that. She'll take it out when she comes to see you in the morning." As their legs gently entwined and George held on to this woman who meant so much to her, she vowed never to allow Jo to ever feel so unhappy again. "Besides making me throw up more than I ever thought possible," Said Jo, "What exactly did Karen do to me?" "How much do you remember?" Asked George. "Not an awful lot. Everything's quite hazy." "Well, that's hardly surprising." "I vaguely remember you arriving, but I can't remember what we talked about. The next thing I knew, Karen was shining a light in my eyes and talking to me. From then on, everything seemed to start to drift. The only constant seems to have been all three of your voices, but I couldn't tell you most of what you said. I don't really remember how I ended up in bed, but I do remember Karen putting the needle in my arm, and then nothing until she gave me that injection to make me throw up." "Karen had to give you a shot of adrenaline because your heart was beating too slow. I didn't realize quite how serious that was until I saw the look of sheer relief on her face afterwards. Then, because of all the alcohol I'm assuming you drank, plus the extreme way we got rid of it, you became dehydrated. That gave Karen quite a scare, because at first she didn't know what had caused you to deteriorate. She thought it was a reaction to one of the drugs she'd given you, but after talking to Dr. Thomas Waugh, whose phone presence we also had from time to time, she gave you two bags of fluid which sorted you out." "Thomas Waugh? As in the Thomas Waugh who works with Karen?" "Who else. Karen was with him when I phoned her. So, as well as telling her exactly what to do, though I think she already knew most of it herself, he supplied her with the necessary bits and pieces from Larkhall's hospital wing. He also said that we'd need some help, which is why Karen brought Yvonne with her." Jo looked aghast. "But he could get struck off for doing all that and not reporting it." "Yes," Said George, some of the sternness creeping back in to her voice. "And if you had died, Karen would have been up on a charge of manslaughter by negligence, possibly together with Yvonne and yours truly for assisting her." "Yeah, thanks for the legal update, George," Said Jo hurriedly. "Well then, perhaps that ought to tell you how much we weren't prepared to just let you die," George said vehemently, the tears ever threatening to fall. "As Yvonne so matter-of-factly put it, there are too many people who love you." "I remember that bit." "Well, start bloody listening to it then. John loves you, I love you, your children love you. I know you love John, and I know you love your children. I know that how you feel about me has always been something of a closed book, but I didn't think I was quite so insignificant, that you could just leave us all without even so much as an explanation." The tears were streaming down George's face now, and she knew she was becoming hysterical. Attempting to calm down, she said, "I'm sorry, that's just how much it hurt to know you could try to do something so drastic, that's all." Jo was very quiet for a while. Eventually, she said, "You should get some sleep." "How can I?" Asked George in despair, "I don't trust you not to finish what you started." "I don't think I've got anything like the amount of energy it would need to try anything else," Jo replied, leaving it unsaid that if she did, she might. "Besides, I've got nothing left with which to do it. Anyway, how did you know what I'd taken?" "Yvonne found the empty bottle and your prescription." "Yvonne did?" Asked Jo in surprise. "Yes," Said George dryly. "Seeing as I know you and this flat better than they do, I offered to look for it. But Yvonne's response was to ask me if I'd ever done a cell spin. I think that was how she put it." Jo smiled. "She does have a way with words." They lay quiet for some time, just holding each other close. "I don't ever want to stop doing this, being close to you," Said George softly. "And I don't want to turn in to somebody different," Replied Jo. "I don't want to turn in to someone whom both you and John could come to loathe the very sight of." George drew back from her slightly to look at her face. "That's why you did it, wasn't it," She said in dawning comprehension. "You thought this was the simplest way to stop drinking." "I don't want to end up like my father, George." "Darling, listen to me," Said George, gently but firmly. "We can get through this, and we will get through this. We haven't come this far, and I'm talking about all three of us now, to just let you give up because you might not be able to see a way out of it. We love you, and we will never ever stop loving you. So don't ever think you're not worth it. Both me and John would fall apart at the seams if we didn't have you. Just remember that." As they lay there for a good while longer, both of them taking in all George had said, they were both wondering if George's words really could be fulfilled.
They both slept intermittently, but George frequently jerked herself in to wakefulness, always feeling for the pulse in Jo's neck, desperate to make sure she was still alive. At one point when she did this, Jo was awake. "George," She said, taking her hand. "I am still here." "Do you blame me for not leaving it to chance?" George asked sleepily. Jo didn't answer. Pressing a quick kiss to Jo's cheek, George slipped back in to a doze. But Jo was left thinking. She really had hurt George, more than she possibly could have imagined. She quailed when she thought of what John would say if he knew about this. Jo had never ever been afraid of John in her life, but knowing she had been prepared to leave him like that would make him angrier than she'd ever seen him before. It would be made all the worse because of how his mother had died. She had died from an overdose, and Jo had nearly put him through it a second time. If she'd succeeded, she wouldn't have had to deal with his anger or his pain. But as she was still alive, and if George told him, she didn't think he'd ever forgive her. "George," Jo said suddenly, bringing her back to full alertness. "Promise me you won't tell John about this." "Sh," Said George gently. "Go back to sleep. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." "He'll never forgive me for doing this," Said Jo, the fear creeping in to her voice. "John loves you, Jo," George insisted, but at the same time wondering if Jo might be right. "He won't love me after this," Said Jo, becoming more and more certain by the minute. "We'll talk about all this tomorrow," George said firmly. Then, as Jo began to drift back to sleep, George murmured to no one in particular, "It might not mean much to you in the grand scheme of things, but I still love you." Afterwards, Jo could never be sure if she'd heard these words, or simply imagined them.
When George roused herself from sleep for the last time around nine the next morning, she could see that Jo was already awake. "How do you feel?" George asked groggily. "Not brilliant, but I think that's probably hang over more than anything else." George turned over and closely examined Jo's face. "Forget it," She said with a shrug. "I don't have the faintest idea what I'm looking for. Would you like some tea?" She asked as she got out of bed. Jo simply lay, contemplating George's question. "No thank you," She said eventually. "I wouldn't mind another shot of that antisickness drug before I eat or drink anything. I think last night's dose has worn off. Please can I have a cigarette?" She asked with a grimace as another wave of nausea swept over her. When George returned with the cigarettes, lighter and an ashtray, Jo said, "this feels like being pregnant again." "Yes," George agreed. "A cigarette was the only decent cure for morning sickness I ever discovered." "And I bet John spent half his time telling you it was bad for the baby." "Oh, yes, at every possible opportunity. It's infuriating. John thinks there's absolutely nothing wrong with his addiction because it's slightly more exotic than cigarettes or..." She stopped, not quite sure how Jo would take a mention of the thing that had almost killed her. "Or alcohol," Jo finished for her. "You can say it, George." Putting out a hand, George took one of Jo's, gently stroking the knuckles. "Jo, I'm not entirely sure what has made you start drinking too much. I've got an idea as to some of the reasons behind it, but I'm not all that certain. But whatever it is, we will get through it." "I wish I could believe that," Jo said dully. Stubbing out her cigarette, she got out of bed, saying that a shower might make her feel slightly more human. As George watched her walk out of the room, she knew that getting Jo to talk was going to be an uphill struggle.
Karen and Yvonne arrived whilst Jo was still in the shower and George was in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil. When she heard the wrap on the front door, she pulled on Jo's dressing-gown and went to answer it. "Did we wake you?" Karen asked when George appeared. "No," She replied as she let them in. "I was just making tea. Do you want some? Jo's in the shower." As they went in to the kitchen and Yvonne placed the ever faithful first aid box on the table, Karen rested a hand on George's shoulder and took a good look at her face. "You know, Jo's not the only one who needs to start looking after herself," She said to George. "You look all in." "I didn't sleep very much last night, that's all," George replied, moving away to find two more mugs. "And you're still getting over the residual effects of breast cancer and chemotherapy, George," Said Karen firmly. "Rest and nourishment are still things you need in substantial amounts. I don't need to tell you how important that is." "No, you're right, you don't," Replied George a little curtly. "Jo's the one who needs looking after at the moment, not me." "Just be careful, that's all I'm saying," Finished Karen gently, recognising the early morning George who clearly hadn't had enough sleep and who was still wound up from the day before. "How is Jo this morning?" She asked, trying to change the subject. "I think that whatever you gave her last night to stop her throwing up has worn off," George replied, getting the milk out of the fridge. "She says she's not going to try to eat or drink anything until she's had another shot." "Another dose of Cyclozine won't do her any harm, but she really needs to get at least some fluids inside her as soon as possible." "What happened to that blood sample you took?" "It stayed perfectly happily in my fridge overnight, and I dropped it in to the prison this morning. Thomas was going to drop it in to the lab on his way home, but he wants me to take another one today." "When's the judge back?" Yvonne asked, never having been able to think of him as John, no matter how much she might like him. "Not till Friday, thank God," Said George, pouring boiling water over teabags. "Hopefully any needle marks might have gone by then." "He does have to know about this, George," Said Karen tentatively. "You know that." "Oh, and you want to be the one to tell him, do you?" "Oh, it won't be me," Karen said without a hint of doubt in her tone. "Jo's going to do that." "Over her dead body she will," Said George, immediately clapping her hand to her mouth in disgust. "Quite," Said Karen. "It almost was her dead body last night. George, John cannot be kept in the dark about this. Would you want to be if you were in his shoes?" Plonking two mugs of tea down on the kitchen table and leaning against the fridge to drink her own, George said, "No, I wouldn't. I'd be even more hurt, bewildered and furious than I already am." "So you see why he has to be told about this?" Persisted Karen. "Yes, I do," Replied George resignedly. "But you're not going to find it easy to persuade her." Hearing Jo come out of the bathroom, Karen gave her a few minutes before picking up the first aid box and walking along to her bedroom.
As Jo had emerged from her shower, she'd become aware that George was talking to someone and she knew that Karen and possibly Yvonne had arrived to see her. Jo's bedroom door was closed when Karen gently tapped on it and when she put her head round, she saw that Jo had put on a different nightie and had returned to bed. "Can I come in?" Karen asked quietly. "Yes," Came Jo's equally unemphatic reply. Not wanting George to have any possibility of hearing what she had to say to Jo, Karen came in and closed the door behind her. She walked round to the right side of the bed, clearly where Jo usually slept, and perched on the edge of it some distance from Jo, putting the box for the moment on the floor at her feet. "How do you feel?" She asked, trying to banish any hint of anything but a harmless question from her tone. Jo opened her mouth and shut it again. She didn't seem to know how to describe the total sense of shame and humiliation she was feeling. "I'm alive," Said Jo eventually. "But then you know that." Karen felt the tears pricking behind her eyelids and had to quash an urge to put her arms round this woman whose entire soul was currently radiating nothing but pain and regret. "Well," Said Karen, forcing herself not to go soft on Jo quite yet. "There were a couple of times last night where I wondered if you would be able to say that this morning. You had me seriously frightened at least twice." "You didn't sound it, not once," Said Jo. "That's the one thing I can remember with any constancy is your voice." "First rule of nursing," Replied Karen decisively. "Never, ever, betray your feelings to the person you're caring for." "I wonder if that's where I went wrong with my husband," Jo mused. "I started seeing John when my husband was terminally ill. I've always nagged at John about his lack of fidelity, and I was hardly any better. I never told him I was seeing John, but I think he knew." Karen didn't offer an opinion, she simply waited. "I'm sorry," Said Jo. "Don't be," Said Karen gently, who could see the cracks beginning to give way. "George said you'd quite like a top up of the Cyclozine, the antisickness drug," She said, trying to regain safer ground. "Yes," Said Jo, grateful for the temporary reprieve. "Have you been sick at all this morning?" "No, but only because I've not had anything to eat or drink." Karen picked up the first aid box and put it on the bed on the other side of Jo's feet. Rifling through its now slightly jumbled contents, she drew out another prepacked syringe of Cyclozine. "This is the one that has to go in your thigh," She said, unwrapping it and drawing back the duvet. Jo lay perfectly still as the needle pierced her skin, wishing that all her emotional ills could be so easily remedied. "I need to look in your eyes and listen to your heart." After briefly shining the penlight in to Jo's eyes, Karen wrote down "Pupils pinpoint and reacting." "That's an improvement on when I first saw you last night," She commented, dropping the light back in the box and untangling the stethoscope. After listening to the strong, reassuring beat for fifteen seconds whilst keeping one eye on her watch, Karen wrote down, "Pulse 100", and asked, "Have you been smoking this morning?" "Yes," Said Jo. "It was the only way to stop feeling so sick. Why?" "Because your heart rate is on the high side of normal for a healthy, resting adult, but you have just come out of a hot shower, so that might have something to do with it as well. Did George tell you," Continued Karen as she put the stethoscope away. "That I had to give you a shot of adrenaline?" "Was it really that bad?" Asked Jo. "Your pulse was down to 48 beats per minute," Said Karen sternly. "If it had been allowed to go any lower, it could easily have stopped altogether and then we really would have been in trouble. One thing Thomas didn't supply me with was a defibrillator, and plain old heart massage is not a sure-fire way of restarting it. If you had gone in to full heart block, I'd have had absolutely no choice but to get you to a hospital. You may think that couldn't have happened, but as well as your heart beating too slowly, it was beating out of time. But luckily, the adrenaline managed to sort you out. While I remember, apart from feeling sick, have you had any stomach pain?" "Yes, but I just thought that was from throwing up so much last night." "It probably is," Said Karen, "But I'd rather be safe than sorry. I need to feel your stomach." "Be my guest," Said Jo dryly. Knowing that Jo probably wouldn't like her seeing too much of her body, even after last night's humiliation, Karen kept her eyes fixed on Jo's face as she gently raised her nightie to bunch just under her breasts. Jo was grateful for Karen's sensitivity, but after having either her or Yvonne or both undress her last night, she really couldn't care less. Karen gently palpated the area under Jo's left breast, where the stomach is situated, also listening to its empty silence with the stethoscope. "That's fine," She said, drawing Jo's nightie back down to midthigh. "If it had been in any way swollen or distended, that might have indicated an aggravated ulcer, but the excessive vomiting probably just strained the muscle a bit. But if you should start vomiting blood, you will need to find a hospital and fast, because a ruptured ulcer goes way beyond anything that can be kept even slightly unofficial." "What happened to the blood you took last night?" Jo asked, drawing the duvet back over herself. "It stayed in my fridge over night, and is being analyzed as we speak to check on your kidney and liver function. I've got to take some more now, to do a second check on your liver and to do a toxicology screen to make sure that there isn't any or at least too much Temazepam left in your system. I'll take it from your left arm this time, because no drugs have gone through there in the last few hours, and because the vein in your right will still be too bruised." "Why can't you just take it from the needle that's already there?" "Whilst any drug residues will have been washed away from the vein by the blood stream, they will still be present on the surface of the needle." As Karen opened and put on a new pair of surgical gloves, she added, "I did ask George last night, but do you have any blood complications I should be extra wary of?" "No, you're quite safe." "I'm sorry," Said Karen, unwrapping a new needle and syringe for collecting the blood. "But I had to ask." She quickly and deftly took a sample of blood from the vein in Jo's left elbow, and then removed the canula from the back of her left hand, quickly staunching the small cut with a sterile dressing. When Karen had cleared everything away, Jo asked, "Why did you stop nursing?" "Because people kept doing stupid, pointless, drastic things to themselves in the hope that it would make all the pain go away, only coming to us when it was too late, and all we could do was watch them die. I'm sorry," She said after a moment's pause. "George wasn't the only one who didn't sleep too well last night, and I think it's catching up with me." Then, trying to soften her gaze she said, "Do you feel like talking?" "No," Said Jo, sounding more defeated than ever. "Well," Said Karen firmly. "I don't care whether it's today, tomorrow or next week, or whether it's to George, to me, to John, to anyone, but you are going to do it. I didn't go through one of the worst nights of my life just to let you go back to square one. You know George, she doesn't really do fear, or if she does, she does her best not to show it. But she was almost scared out of her mind last night, and to be honest, I don't blame her. Doing what I did for you last night used to be part of my job. So except for the couple of times when I thought I really was going to lose you, I was able to keep it together, because I didn't really have any choice. Yvonne, being who she is, or at least who she used to be, is relatively good at keeping her head in a crisis and there isn't much Yvonne hasn't seen. But it was different for George. At the time, she didn't really know just how serious the situation was. It scared the hell out of her that you weren't talking and hardly seemed to be reacting to what was happening to you. Even when I explained that you were emotionally hiding, I know that part of her didn't entirely trust me. Afterwards, when she began looking through the record I'd kept of everything I'd done, she was horrified to realise that I'd been covering my back just in case you had died." Karen suddenly stopped. She had wanted to make Jo aware of just how dangerous her flirting with death had been, but maybe that had really been going a little too far. "I'm sorry," Jo said, her voice a half-strangled whisper. The tears were raining down her cheeks, her breath coming in great, heaving gasps now that the floodgates had been opened. Moving towards her, Karen helped her sit up so that she could put her arms round her. "I'm so, so sorry," Jo said again between gasps. "Sh, I know," Said Karen gently. "I, I just couldn't bare the thought of losing someone else to cancer. So, I started drinking because that's always what I do when things get too difficult to deal with. I'm no better than my father when it comes down to it, and I didn't want to end up like him. If I had ended up like him, John and George would have loathed being in the same room as me. I love them both more than I've ever loved anyone, and I couldn't bear the thought of losing them just because I can't stop drinking." Then, after a moment, she added, "And I hate the fact that you're seeing me like this." It was this assertion that brought tears to Karen's own eyes. "Do you remember," Karen asked a little unsteadily, "About three years ago now, when I came to see you at your office, and I told you exactly what Fenner had done to me? Well, that has to be the most humiliated and degraded I've ever felt in my life. I don't think I've ever been so emotionally vulnerable, so brutally expecting some sort of criticism for making one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made, as I was on that day. But all I got from you was help and understanding. No scorn, no telling me I should have known better. So you see, we're all capable of making mistakes, of making a decision and then regretting it. I, George, John, we might all be initially furious with you for attempting something like this, but that's only because we all think so much of you." "Please, Karen, you mustn't tell John about this," Jo was adamant. Karen drew back from her slightly, seeing that Jo's tears had been replaced by a look of fear-laden pleading. "No, I won't tell John about this," She said carefully. "Because you're going to do that." "I can't," Jo said firmly. "You know how his mother died. He'd never forgive me if he thought I'd almost done the same thing." "And just how do you think he would have felt had you succeeded? He'd have felt as guilty as hell, along with George, me, your children, I could go on. I'm not doubting that it will be the hardest thing you've ever had to do, but you have to tell him." "I think the hardest thing I've ever done was to abort his baby," Jo said quietly. "When was this?" Karen asked, concealing her surprise. "Oh, 1987. I was caring for a terminally ill husband, and I had two very young children." It was left unsaid that at the time, it had been her only option. "John was in the process of divorcing George, so it wasn't the right time for him either." "And I'm guessing that you've never really dealt with that," Karen said slowly. "No, probably not," Jo replied, and Karen could hear the distinct reluctance to discuss it further. They were quiet for a moment, and Karen could see that Jo's thoughts were slipping away from the present, possibly focusing on the unresolved guilt of the passed. "I'd better go," Karen said reluctantly. "I've got to get this blood in to adequate storage for a start." "Thank you, for everything you did," Said Jo quietly. "I am fully aware of what the legal consequences might have been if I hadn't made it." "I'm just glad I've kept my qualifications up to date," Karen replied. "But the best thing you can do for me, is to start looking after yourself again. John sought professional help a few years ago, and whilst I know it wasn't exactly an unmitigated success for him, I think it's something you ought to consider. But in the meantime, you have George, you have John, and if you ever need someone who isn't quite so personally involved, you have me. Don't ever underestimate how much either John or George need you. Ever since your threeway relationship began, you've been the mainstay for both of them. George might have spread her wings for a while with me, but that was before she realised how she felt about you," She said with a small smile. "But they would both come adrift if they didn't have you. You are the one person, except perhaps each other, that they would do just about anything for. I think you need to realise that just for a change, it's you who needs to rely on them." Briefly squeezing Jo's hand, Karen got up from the bed, picked up the first aid box and softly walked out of the room, leaving Jo to her thoughts.
When Karen had gone in to Jo's bedroom, Yvonne and George were left in the kitchen. Both women had, for some time, adopted a healthy respect for the other, mainly because they knew that the other had once been top in Karen's affections. But even though Yvonne had lingering thoughts of one day getting back with Karen, she was still aware that there would always be a private place in Karen's heart for George, something she could never hope to eradicate. Part of Karen would always love George, but Yvonne had no need to fear this. Yvonne was all too aware that Karen would never tie herself exclusively to anyone again. She had been hurt too often, not just by the men in her life, but by the death of her son the previous year, to want to give all of herself to one person, for fear that she couldn't survive if they should be taken from her. Yvonne watched George as she lit a cigarette, observing the slight shake in her hands that spoke of how tired and emotionally drained she was. "How are you doing this morning?" Yvonne asked gently. "Because it isn't only Jo who's been through the mill." "I'll be all right," George said hurriedly, feeling the control she'd hitherto maintained inexorably slipping away from her. "You don't look it," Replied Yvonne, knowing that George needed to talk, to cry, to maybe even shout, and wanting to tell her that it was okay to do this. Yvonne's kind concern was too much for George. "I don't know how to feel," George said, finally beginning to let out some of her anguish. "I'm so angry with her for thinking she could just leave us without a word. Yet, I know how bad she must have felt to do that because I've been there. I've never attempted anything of the sort, but there have been times when I've thought about it. Maybe it's my fault for not noticing how bad things had got. I knew she was drinking too much, and I was working my way round to trying to get her to talk about it, but I obviously didn't do it quick enough." "You can't think like that," Yvonne said firmly. "Why?" George asked, angry tears flooding her face. "I've been so eaten up by losing a breast and going through chemo, that I've probably started taking Jo for granted." "I know," Said Yvonne, laying a comforting hand over George's. "How do you know?" George's curiosity was aroused. "Karen talks a lot about you," Yvonne said simply. "Does she?" George was surprised. "Yeah, of course she does," Yvonne said with a smile. "You will always be very special to her. She doesn't go very long without worrying about you. I would give a lot to be back with Karen, but I know that she'll never tie herself to anyone long term, not now." "She's getting a bit like John," George observed. "He's so insecure that even having two women on the go doesn't always keep him on the straight and narrow." "How's he going to take this?" "I don't know," Replied George miserably. "I just wish it hadn't got this far. I love her so much," She said in total despair, now totally unable to keep her sobs in check. Yvonne stood up and moved round the table, and putting her arms round George, held the other woman close. "I can't believe how Karen kept her head last night," George said eventually. "That's Karen all over," Said Yvonne with a proud smile. Then, her eyes turning sad, she said, "I don't suppose you remember the night Ritchie died." George looked up in surprise. "Yes, I do," She said, wondering where this was leading. "Well, when Karen told me what he'd done, I went in to a similar kind of shock to what Jo did last night. I was holding a glass of wine, and I squeezed it so hard that it shattered and cut my hand quite badly. So, Karen being her wonderful, resourceful self, unearthed my illegally extensive first aid kit and calmly sewed up my hand." She held out the offending object, on whose palm George could see three extremely neat scars. "If anyone could have sorted Jo out on the quiet, it was Karen." "I just hope John sees it like that," Said George, clearly unconvinced. "If Karen has her way, and Jo does tell him about this, Karen is courting the biggest, loudest row she's ever had in her life." "She'd rather let him shout at her and get it out of his system," Said Yvonne matter-of-factly, "Than keep it from him. Karen's had far too many secrets in her life one way and another, and the friendship she has with the judge is too important to her."
They stayed close for a while longer, George taking comfort from the woman who, to some extent had been a rival where Karen was concerned. But they both looked up as they heard Karen walking along the hall towards the kitchen. "Are you all right?" George asked, seeing the brief tears in Karen's eyes. "No," Said Karen quietly. "Not really. Now I know why they expressly forbid you to treat people you know, especially in a situation like this." "Is Jo all right?" "She will be, but I think she could do with a cuddle. I've done all I can for now." "I can't ever thank you enough for doing what you did," Said George seriously. "Just do one thing for me," Replied Karen, not really wanting any form of appreciation from anyone. "Make her tell John, because I can't keep quiet about this for long." Both George and Yvonne could see that the whole episode was finally catching up with Karen, the stress and the adrenaline of the night before being replaced by the sheer futility of suicide, whether that be attempted or achieved, with Jo or with Ross.
When she'd closed the door on Karen and Yvonne, George made her way back to the bedroom, wondering what state Jo might be in. But she was simply lying with her head turned away from the door, silently crying. George walked round to Jo's side of the bed and perched on the edge, taking her hand. "I'm sorry, George," She said, the tears making her voice slightly hoarse. "I know," Said George, the tears rising to her own eyes. "I just wish you'd talked to me first, that's all." Letting go of Jo's hand, George walked round to what she liked to think of as either hers or John's side of the bed, slipped out of the dressing-gown that was definitely too big for her, and slid under the duvet. "I love you so much," Said George, as their legs entwined and their arms wrapped round each other. "I just couldn't bear the thought of losing you, not ever." Their tears mingled as they clung together, neither wanting to be parted from the other. "Do you know, one of the things that hurt the most about leaving without saying goodbye?" Jo said. "It was that I'd never told you I loved you. I should have said it a long time ago." "Don't just say it because you feel you should," Said George, who had long ago reconciled herself to the fact that Jo might never say it. "But I did, I do love you," Jo insisted. "It was just one of those things that it took me a while to get used to, and which I couldn't quite make myself say. John has always taken my love for him for granted, and I think I didn't want you to do the same." "And over the last few months I probably have taken you for granted," George said regretfully. "And I'm sorry for that. I've been so eaten up with what's been happening to me that I don't think I noticed quite how much it was getting to you." "I think that's why I started drinking," Said Jo soberly. "I couldn't handle the thought of losing you, not after the last couple of years. What you, me and John have is too different, too special. I never thought I'd be saying that about either of you, especially not about you, but I am. You both mean so much to me that I didn't want to hurt you by becoming what my father was." "I know," Said George gently. "And there's still an awful lot for you to come to terms with, about that and about other things. Do you remember when you made me confront my anorexia, that day I fainted in court? Well, I think it's your turn to face a few things about yourself. Not now, but one day soon, because I'm not risking you ever being this unhappy again." As it dawned on both of them just how much they might have lost the night before, they clung if possible ever closer until, through sheer exhaustion, they fell asleep.