Artists Model Pt 04

This story follows on from Artist's Model Part 3. If you haven't read the previous parts already, I don't think it will make much sense, so do consider taking some time to read them before starting this, or just scroll on.

As usual, I have edited as best I can, but if you find any errors of punctuation, grammar, syntax, chronology, plot or just typos, please accept my apologies. I know how annoying they can be.

Andrea takes up the story.

Chapter 7 - Cancer - Andrea's story

How I missed Tracey while they were away! I thought about her all day long and even dreamt about her at night.

Bill and I met for a couple of dates, but they were disappointing. He's a lovely, lovely man, but a bit staid in bed and didn't really satisfy me. I would get myself off by thinking of Tracey with her head between my legs, smiling up at me, while I masturbated after Bill had gone to sleep.

I missed her effervescent personality, I missed her thoughtfulness and I missed that impish smile. I would think about her sunbathing, naked, on the beach. I was going mad with desire for her...

Then she phoned me about being pregnant! She was so excited about it, I couldn't help but be thrilled for her.

I met them at the airport. Tracey looked fantastic. She was blooming and looked so healthy with her tan. She assured me it was an all over tan and to be honest I couldn't wait to see it, but circumstances were against us. She was bubbling over with excitement about being pregnant.

I was worried about Tom, though. I hadn't seen him for several weeks and he'd changed. He was limping when they came through from baggage reclaim and although he tried to hide it he was clearly in pain. His face was thin and drawn and he looked as though he had lost weight. I was shocked at the change in such a short time.

I took Tracey to one side and said, "Tom doesn't look right. Get him to a doctor straight away."

"It's just his back. He's overdone things a bit and he'll be OK with rest."

"This was a holiday. He's had his rest. Trust me, he needs to see a doctor. Now."

***

I was right. He did need to see a doctor. The doctor sent him to a consultant without saying what was wrong.

The consultant ordered a battery of tests and scans, without saying what was wrong.

Days passed.

Tracey phoned me in tears.

"Andi, it's cancer. It's a very rare, very aggressive form of bone cancer. It's everywhere in his body. They will try radio and chemo, but they think it may be too late and they're discussing palliative care. He may only have months or even weeks to live. Why? Why? Why?"

She broke down completely.

I went round to their house as soon as my shift was over.

Tom looked terrible, but he was stoical.

"I've had an interesting life," he said. "I've met some amazing people and I've done some good in the world and the two most exciting, clever and interesting women I know are here with me now. We'll see what happens with the chemo."

"For fuck's sake," I said, "you're talking as if it's all over. You have to fight this, if only for Tracey's sake and the baby's sake. Don't give up. Please don't give up."

He didn't give up, but it was too late. Treatment could only delay the end by a small amount, but it couldn't prevent it. Tom worked hard to plan things, but he got tired easily. He asked Mike, his best friend and next door neighbour, and me, to help, which we willingly did.

***

A few days later, she phoned me. "Andi, I had the scan today. She's a girl. She's healthy and everything's going well."

Then she burst into tears. "Tom will never see her and she will never meet him. I should be so happy but I'm so sad."

"Ssh," I said. "Have you thought of a name?"

"Yes. Tom didn't like it at first, but I insisted. We're going to call her Rachel. Rachel Andrea Patterson after the three most important people in our lives."

I was gobsmacked. There were so many questions. "Why Rachel?"

"You'll laugh at me, I know, but that first day after I escaped from my ex, I saw Rachel's photo in Tom's house. I asked about her and he explained all that about her being his second wife, and that she'd died and so on. After that I sometimes spoke to her and asked her what I should do. She kind of spoke to me. I mean, she didn't really, of course, but I felt so calm when I looked at her photo and I just knew what I should do next after talking to her, and it was like she was there, encouraging me to get on with life and giving me permission to move on with Tom.

"I can't explain it. And I know she and Tom wanted a baby but they couldn't have one, and to me it seems unfair that I'm having the baby she should have had. I'm all mixed up, Andi, but it just seems right. And... well, you knew Rachel too, and I want you to be her godmother, little Rachel's godmother I mean. You've been so important to me, to us. You've helped me so much to become a better person. It just feels right..." Her voice trailed off.

I had tears in my eyes now. "Oh, Tracey, of course I'll be her godmother. I haven't been to church for forty years, apart from... well, you know what I mean." I didn't want to finish the sentence with "apart from funerals."

I went on, "I feel so honoured to be asked. Thank you so much. That's a beautiful story about Rachel, though. I loved her, as Tom did. You know all about that, anyway. You have the photos."

She giggled. "Yes, I have the photos. They taught me a lot..."

"I bet they did! They were quite explicit, as I remember."

This was such a complicated relationship. I had been Rachel's lover, then I had been in several threesomes with Tom and Rachel together. Then Rachel died and years later Tom rescued Tracey from a very abusive relationship and I had met her by chance when she came to the hotel to work as a receptionist under my mentoring. We had become lovers, with Tom's blessing, and then the three of us had enjoyed a wonderful threesome, Tom, Tracey and me. It was history repeating itself.

"How does Tom feel about calling your baby Rachel?" I asked.

"He's come round. He was against it at first, but he likes the idea now. He still misses the other Rachel, even after all these years, so I didn't want her to be written out of the story, you know, the story about Tom and me. I'm not jealous of her. She was so important to Tom and she's part of who he is, so I want her to be part of who little Rachel is. Yes, I call her little Rachel."

Tracey was smiling, I could hear it in her voice.

I felt so many emotions. I was deeply, madly in love with Tracey, so much so that I wanted to be with her all the time. I wanted to put my arms around her and hold her tight and make all the pain go away. She'd had such a tough life and she always came up smiling, but there was so much shit happening to her, it was so unfair.

Tom would die soon. His cancer was terminal and he had just weeks to live, I knew that. Tracey would have to go through all the trauma of his dying, then his funeral. That would be a big event because Tom was so well known locally through his business and charitable links.

Then there would be the court case against Kelvin Sommers, her ex. He faced charges of assault against Tracey and Tom, grievous bodily harm against Tom, conspiracy to kidnap, and all the drug dealing charges that Tracey was not involved with. She would have to testify against him in court and his defending barrister would be brutal and would try to force her into a panic attack to make her seem like an unreliable witness.

If all went well, a month after the court case, Tracey would give birth to Rachel. I prayed that it would go well. Having had two daughters myself, years ago, I knew what it would be like. I had promised to be with her at the birth.

And then? Who knew what would happen next? I wanted to be part of Tracey's life. I wanted to be at her side throughout whatever life would bring. I wanted to help her raise her daughter. Of course, I couldn't bring the subject up now, and I didn't know whether Tracey would be ready to 'come out' with me or not. It was such a big thing to do, even today. Nobody would bat an eyelid in London, but we lived in the provinces and attitudes were more old fashioned, I thought.

I cursed myself for being so selfish. She had so much to contend with just now, I was being self-centred to think about my relationship with her. Oh, but I loved her so much.

***

In the middle of all this Tracey's divorce came through as expected.

The next day they got married in a simple ceremony with just Mike and me as witnesses. Tom was in a wheelchair. He wanted the baby to have his surname and he wanted Tracey to inherit his house and investments so that she would be financially secure. He didn't want the Government to take a share through Inheritance Tax.

Tracey took Tom's surname, Patterson.

She then took the gaudy engagement ring and wedding ring from her first marriage, plus all the jewellery her ex had ever given her to a second hand jeweller's and sold them, donating the money raised to the local women's refuge.

Symbolically, she had cut off all links with the past and her disastrous marriage to that arsehole Kelvin.

***

I was with them both when Tom died. She held his hand right up to the end, whispering to him how much she loved him. I heard him take his last breath. She turned to me, tears running down her face.

I nodded and put my arms around her.

"He was very special. He loved you so much and it would have been of great comfort to him to have you with him at the end."

The words seemed trite and pointless.

I took her home.

We went in and I made some tea.

"I can't stay here," she said. "I'll have to move out so that Tom's sons can have the house."

"No," I said. "Listen carefully, this is important. When Tom married you, the house became yours anyway after his death. To make certain, he made a new will. He made Mike and me his executors. Apart from some charitable donations and a trust fund for little Rachel, the rest is yours. You won't be rich, but the house is paid for and it's yours outright and you'll have some income from investments as a cushion."

I went on, "The boys, I mean they're not boys, they're in their thirties, they won't be able to fight the will, because there are signed affidavits from two independent witnesses to prove that Tom was of absolutely sound mind, he wasn't under any emotional pressure to get married or change his will, and he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Tom supported the boys through college and helped them buy their homes, but never received a word of thanks, or even an acknowledgment that he had helped them. His first wife poisoned them against him. He was way more generous to them than I would have been. Mike and I have a letter to send to them both explaining it all."

"How did that happen? I didn't know about it."

"Well, when the boys were young, Tom came home from work early one day and found his first wife in his bed with her lover. The man was one of his best friends. He literally threw him out of the house, followed by his clothes. He explained to Mike and me that he had never been so angry, either before or since, and it was like a red mist came down over him. But he swears he didn't touch his wife, and I believe him.

"The divorce was horrible. In the end his wife got full custody of the boys because she convinced the judge he was violent and she was afraid for her safety and their safety. Tom paid their maintenance but she prevented access, poisoning the boys against him. She threw away all his letters and cards to them. When they turned 18 he tried to keep contact. They were happy to take the money when he paid for their university fees and deposits on their houses, but they refused to acknowledge or thank him. So he lost patience and cut them off in the will."

"When did he tell you all this?"

"Well, Mike and me, we met Tom a few times when you were at work. He wanted you and Rachel, when she's born, to be looked after properly because he couldn't do it himself. He didn't want you to know, I suppose, because he didn't want to talk about it with you. It was too emotional for him, because he would have to discuss his dying with you."

"He was so good to me."

"He adored you."

We were both quiet for a while.

Reluctantly, I went back to my home. I was on the early shift the next day, and didn't have my work clothes with me.

***

Not surprisingly, the funeral was very stressful. Mike and I organised it all, following Tom's instructions.

Tracey's face was thin and drawn. Her pregnancy was very obvious and it was only with my help that she was able to hold it all together. The cremation passed in a blur.

Mike and I had composed the eulogy with help from Tom's many friends, and Mike read it. Even though I knew what it contained I was in tears by the time Mike finished.

Then we went to the hotel on Dartmoor for the wake, which was put on, free of charge, by Bill.

There must have been more than a hundred people there. Tom's friends from the Rotary Club, plus friends from other clubs and other parts of the country. Dozens of messages of condolence came in from all around the world, and we read them all out. Tom had touched so many lives with his charitable work.

All their friends from the art group were there, as were most of the hotel staff and various other friends of Tom's: school friends, university friends, colleagues from work, former customers, environmentalists, his birdwatching buddies. I quickly lost track of who everyone was.

So many people came up to Tracey, some red-eyed with weeping.

"He was such a good friend and he helped me out with some brilliant advice years ago when I was struggling."

"He always had time for people. I was just a customer, but he always made me feel special."

"When he stood up at a meeting, everyone listened. He always spoke his mind and he always made sense. We'll miss him."

"He gave me my first job and mentored me. He was always fair to all his staff. He saw something in me that I didn't know I had and he encouraged me to get qualified as an engineer. I owe everything I've achieved to him."

"He sacked me once - the best thing that ever happened to me! I was a cocky little bastard and being sacked made me reconsider my attitude to people. I got another job and he gave me a reference. He never held a grudge and we became friends."

There were many more like that. They say you never find out about a person until they die, then it's too late.

Mike came up and said, "He was like an older brother to me. He helped me with a financial problem I had and we've been mates ever since. I shall miss him so much."

His voice shook and he turned away so that we wouldn't see the tears.

Bill had pulled out all the stops and the food was excellent. A lot of the people there knew each other and at times it was almost a party atmosphere. Tracey was amazing, moving from group to group, talking to everyone, patiently listening to all the stories, making sure everyone had a drink and something to eat.

At the end of the evening, the last friends left. I took Tracey home. She asked me to sleep in the bed with her because she didn't want to wake up alone.

I was exhausted and fell asleep immediately.

I woke up when I heard a crash downstairs. I was disorientated and it took me a moment to figure out where I was in the dark, then I realised Tracey wasn't there. I put on the light and jumped out of the bed. I could hear sobbing. I ran downstairs, almost falling headlong in my haste.

She was in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar. There was a smashed bottle of whisky on the floor, along with dozens of Tom's pain killing tablets scattered everywhere. She was crying inconsolably.

I put my arms around her and rocked her gently.

"I'm never going to see him again. I'm never going to feel his arms around me again. Never. In the middle of the night he will never turn to me again and whisper to me and I won't feel his arms around me and my nipples going hard and my pussy getting wet just because he's feeling horny and I want him...

"I'll never be able to wake up in the morning and see his face next to mine and lie there watching him so that when he wakes up the first thing he sees is me smiling at him.

"We'll never walk along the beach together again and I'll never know what the birds are. He always tells me, I mean told me, 'Oh look, those are sanderlings on the beach,' or if we walk, we walked, along the coast path he tells me to look at the gulls, the waders or the birds of prey.

"I never wanted to know what they were, but he always told me. Now I want to know and I want him to tell me, and he fucking can't because he's dead, and I'll never know what they are. Why can't he be there to tell me? Why did he have to go? It feels like I only just found him and he's the love of my life and now he's gone.

"He'll never shout at the TV again, he always used to shout 'It's not less people it's fewer, didn't you learn English at school?' And he won't shout at the prime minister any more, 'What about climate change, you smug rich bastard in your fucking helicopter?'

"I told him to stop being a grumpy old man, and it was a sort of joke between us, but he did it because he was passionate about things and I loved his passion... and I didn't want him to stop, not really, and I'll never hear his voice again."

She was bawling her eyes out now, but she went on, between her sobs, "Andi, I can't bear it. Sometimes I phone his mobile so I can hear his voice telling me to leave a message. And I tell him I love him, even though he'll never get the message... I can't tell him I love him any more. I won't feel him inside me ever again. I can't go on. I really can't go on..."

I rocked her like a child. I was sobbing now as well. Her grief was so huge and so tangible in the room.

She continued, "I wanted to join him just now, but I couldn't do it. I'm so sorry. I've made a mess. I am a mess. My life's a fucking mess."

She looked at me, the picture of absolute misery. Life had been so unfair to her.

I found my voice at last.

"Tracey, you must go on living. There's a part of Tom, a very important part of him, inside you. That little girl called Rachel who is growing in your womb is also part of Tom. Judging by her movements today, she wants to come out and meet you. She can't wait to meet her strong, intelligent, beautiful mum.

"Every time you see her, she will remind you of him. When she smiles, it will be Tom smiling. You are so strong, Tracey, so strong, you can give this little girl, your little girl, the little girl you thought you could never have, Rachel, you can give her the gift of life and help her to grow up strong and independent like you and you will tell her what her father was like. What a good man he was and how happy he made you.

"And when you take her out for a walk along the beach you'll be able to tell her what all the birds are, because you do know what they are, and you'll think of Tom when you tell her.

"She wants to come running into the bedroom every morning because she is excited by each new day and she wants to tell you what she dreamt about last night.

"She wants you to pick her up on her first day at school, when she will come running out, all thrilled by her new experiences and wanting to tell you about all her new friends and her new besty who she only met that morning.

"And one day she will come up to you feeling all shy and she'll ask you what it's like to be in love and you'll be able to tell her.

"And she'll want to know about her dad, the love of your life, and you'll remember all those big things and little things about him that made you fall in love with him."

We rocked in silence for a while.

"Andi, will you stay here with me, I mean after tonight? I need you. I won't do anything stupid, I promise, but I need you here. I feel so lonely in this house by myself."