We present an extract from Before the Leaves Fall, the new novel by Clare O'Dea.
Set in Switzerland, Before the Leaves Fall tells the story of Ruedi, a newly trained facilitator for an assisted dying organisation, and Margrit Brändli, his first client. They both want to do everything by the book. But when they realise their paths have crossed before, an unexpected bond forms, one that will illuminate both their lives.
The following extract is from Chapter 1, when Ruedi is getting ready for his first appointment with Margrit...
You had to make life interesting for yourself, wasn't that it? Nobody was going to put together a programme for you. Last winter, he realised his life was no longer interesting. The dog was gone; no question of replacing him at this stage. Ruedi couldn’t give his heart away again. Alessandra only wanted to see him when she needed something. Without Maria to care for, the routine was quiet, so quiet. The ad in the Depart newsletter had jumped out at him. And here he was, six months later, fully trained and ready to take on his first client solo. He placed his hand on his stomach to quell the swirling feeling.
Sitting down to his rösti, fried egg and sliced tomato, he reached for the Maggi bottle and scattered a few drops over his meal. You could do worse for lunch under five francs, he thought. Being thrifty came naturally to Ruedi – he had learned from the best. He was proud not to be taking any medication either, which made him almost a freak among his age group. Maria had had rows of pills to take. Muscle relaxants, anti-spasm tablets, painkillers, blood pressure tablets, anti-depressants, food supplements, even medical cannabis for a time.
Careful not to get any stains on the plastic folder, he opened the file and read the information again. There wasn’t much to go on. Born in 1936, so that would make her eighty-six. Margrit Brändli had been a member of Depart since 2000. He wondered what had given her the nudge back then. Often it’s someone else’s situation that prompts people to sign up for membership. A situation that provokes sympathy or dread. For others, it’s a routine task on the post-retirement to-do list.
He read Mrs Brändli’s list of co-morbidities. A heavy load to carry by any measure, and at eighty-six, poor thing. Her care home was called Sonnmatt. Well, every village has a sunny meadow – it might not be false advertising. Would she see that he was out of his depth? Was he out of his depth? According to Carmen he was ready, as she had reminded him again this morning by text. Shadowing Carmen had been a most fascinating experience. She had a gift.
The food had fixed the swirling in his stomach, and now he felt a tightness in his throat. He held out his hands. Steady as a surgeon’s. The children from the upper floors clattered down the stairs past his door. They all left together without fail at one fifteen. Ruedi loved the sound of their voices, but he was shy with them and their parents and never seemed to get past smiles and hellos. He went to the window and watched until they had safely crossed the road. His favourite kids were the Portuguese brother and sister. The boy was about ten and his little sister five. He waited patiently with her whenever she stopped to look at insects or pick up leaves. He must have been under strict instructions to stay close to her all the way to and from school. Ruedi found his loyalty delightful.
Ruedi fetched a little square of paper from the wooden holder made by Florian in school. It sat on what used to be the telephone table in the hall until Alessandra had convinced him that he could live without a landline.
While his coffee brewed, he looked up the route on the SBB app again and wrote down all the connections. Alessandra had trained him. Every time she came to see him, she had a new skill to teach. It was kind of her, but a little wearing.
He was lucky to have the bus stop almost outside his door. After a thirteen-minute journey, he would arrive at Bern main station and, according to the little walking symbol, it would take six minutes to get to platform one. Seven stops on the regional line and he would arrive at the village, with a four-minute wait for a bus to whisk him two stops to the care home. The coffee sputtered on the hob. In a little over an hour, he would be there, fifteen minutes early for the appointment.
Standing at the hob, Ruedi fetched a cup, sugar and coffee cream, all within arm’s reach. Maria had complained about their old-style cafetière. Could they not get a modern machine like everyone else? She always praised the coffee in other people’s homes, looking pointedly at Ruedi. Finally, he had bought a nice little machine for Christmas, but she was too ill for coffee by the evening of the twenty-fourth, too ill for anything, and he returned it to the shop, unopened, in January. A small regret, but it niggled.
He went back to the window and took his coffee standing up. Too much looking in: that’s what happens when you spend so much time alone. Look out, he urged himself, look out.
The hydrangea between the apartment blocks was in bloom, and its blowsy blue flowers curtsied in the breeze. Behind the buildings, he could see a tractor raking the freshly cut hay into rows. The forecast was good for the next few days. He felt the urge to hold a rake in his hands, to be out there all afternoon with his hands occupied and his mind free. Maybe it was time for a visit to the village. But not today: today was for Mrs Brändli, her cares and her reasons. The next bus was his.
Before the Leaves Fall is published by Fairlight Books
