by Louise Bay
“They struggle to recruit physios because the pay is so low. The ones who are here haven’t had a raise in seven years.”
“So what happened?” I asked. “It didn’t used to be like this.”
Abi shot me a confused look, and I realized I’d given too much away. I didn’t want to answer any questions or become the focus of our visit.
“I mean, you can tell that at some point they had more resources.” Most of the equipment had been new when I’d been here. And by the looks of it they’d had nothing since. How on earth did they manage?
“It’s a combination of government cuts and some of the charities funding them moving their support to other, more-fashionable causes.”
While I was here, I never thought about where the money was coming from to fund this place. I’d never felt lucky to be in the situation I was. But compared to what these kids had to work with, I’d been more than lucky.
“And then there’s all this new stuff that the medical director wants to do but just can’t. There’s this thing called a spinal stimulation . . . something that they use in America and would make a big difference apparently.”
I was pretty sure she meant epidural stimulation. I wasn’t sure what made me keep up with developments in the area, but I did. I even had some shares in the company that had developed the epidural stimulation treatments. And given the success they’d had in other countries, there was no doubt they’d make a difference here.
“Let me show you over here,” Abi said, guiding us past the free weights that were set up in the left-hand corner, just like they had been while I was here, except the mats they sat on were badly frayed.
I followed, still a little dazed by the activity in front of me and how eerily familiar it all was.
“Rob mentioned that you had some kind of issue when you were young. Did you have to have rehab like this?”
I scraped my hand through my hair. “Yeah.” I didn’t mention the months of just lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to block out the doctors who’d told me I’d never walk again. I didn’t mention the hours and hours I’d spent in this very room.
“I wanted to show you what Emily’s doing.” Abi led the way over to the nearest set of parallel bars.
A woman in a track suit hovered in front of a young, blonde girl of about twelve who was taking slow but steady steps, her hands gripping the parallel bars.
“Girl, I can see that work you’ve done on your quads. It’s really paying off,” the physio said.
The blonde grinned through her grimace. “I wish it felt like it.”
I understood. It was difficult to see incremental progress when you were constantly pushing yourself. But every now and then you’d hit a milestone where you’d know you were moving forward—the first time you stood, even if your legs weren’t taking all the weight, the first step. I shook my head. Fuck, I’d forgotten this stuff. Deliberately. The struggle had been so difficult, had required everything I had. I didn’t like to remember it. I preferred to concentrate on my future.
“Great job, Bethany,” Abi said. “I can tell the difference from last time.”
“You can?” Bethany asked.
“Totally. You look stronger. More confident.”
Bethany beamed, and Abi pulled at my arm, leading me further into the room.
It hadn’t just been my physical body that had been put back together here. My entire character had been formed in this place. I’d learnt what I was capable of. I’d developed my determination. My desire to succeed. It had made me the man I’d become.
“Let’s go and check out the kung fu. It’s my favorite at the moment. The shifu—the teacher—is the best. Like powerful or something. Inside.” She pointed her fingers toward her solar plexus. “You know?”
I’d never done kung fu while I was here. The only experiences I’d had involved Bruce Lee. As we moved forward, I watched five children of differing ages moving gracefully, almost slow dancing, as they mirrored their teacher’s movements. It was kinda mesmerizing. Concentration bore into the kids’ expressions, more prominent on some than others as they went through the routine.
Abi leaned into me. “It teaches them strength. And balance. To manage pain—to understand it and harness it. It also shows them the path to acceptance.”
“Acceptance?”
“Yeah. Some of them will never play the sports they did before or have the same movement. And even if they do, life will never go back to normal for these kids. What’s happened to them changes them.”
My throat constricted and I swallowed, trying to push down the squeezing sensation of memories threatening to burst from me.
“Truly really gets it; I just know it works. The kids love it but the shifu does it as a volunteer. They only have one class every two weeks.”
It was as if this corner of the room was completely oblivious to anything else around it. As if hope existed here when it didn’t elsewhere in the room. Perhaps I could pay the shifu to come in more regularly?
Taking a steadying breath, I slowly turned around, taking in the drab room filled with so many uncertain futures.
Kung fu wasn’t going to cut it. My checkbook just wasn’t big enough. And an abseil wasn’t either.
Something more needed to be done.
SIX
Truly
“You must really love him,” I said to Abigail as I glanced at the man fiddling with a microphone. The pub wasn’t dingy—the walls were a fresh, pale gray, the chairs and stools were covered in brown leather, and the floor was a polished checkerboard. The place looked more like a hotel lobby than a traditional English pub. But my sister was more oysters and champagne than chips and a Coke. She wasn’t a pub quiz kind of girl.
“Well, I see it as a way of building up credit. I go to this, which he loves, and he cooks, which I love because it means I don’t have to.” We found an empty table by the window and took a seat. “And actually, it’s not bad. They carry Cloudy Bay and have table service.”
I chuckled. “A Hampstead-style pub quiz then.”
“Exactly. Anyway, I dragged you along because you like trivia—and because you’re the cleverest person I know.”
Abigail beckoned over one of the waiters, ordering a bottle of pinot noir and a virgin mojito.
“I hope Rob will drink most of that bottle, because it’ll be a lot too much for me,” I said.
“Yeah. And Noah probably will too.”
My heart sank. “Noah?”
“I told you he was coming, didn’t I?”
She’d barreled into my office at six, insisted I take the evening off, then practically pulled me by the hair out to the car. She’d not even told me where we were going until my seatbelt was on and she’d turned onto the main road.
“It’s not a problem, is it?”
“No. Why would it be?” I’d coped on Sunday. Even seeing him earlier in the week when I’d run into him outside the hospital had been okay. It had been fleeting, and I’d found that thoughts of him had faded faster than they had after lunch. But that was enough. I didn’t want to keep running into him. I knew how vulnerable I was around him, and I didn’t want to wade into the feelings I’d once had for him again. I just wanted Noah to disappear back to New York where all this stuff was three thousand miles away, instead of constantly bobbing to the surface of my brain.
“If I didn’t think Rob would completely lose it, I’d have half a glass of wine myself—they say it’s completely safe, and I could use it. I went over my calendar with Lisa today and the things I have to do before going on maternity leave are really starting to stack up. Just looking at it freaked me out a little.”
It wasn’t like Abigail to get overwhelmed. We both tended to overpromise, but this time Abigail was working with a timetable that had a fixed end date and zero flexibility—the baby couldn’t be rescheduled.
“You okay?” I’d offer to help, but there was nothing I could do and we both knew it. There was no overlap in our jobs. Abigail
was the face of the foundation, and I needed her. “I get it, there’s still loads to do. But the main thing is to pace yourself. You have five months before this baby comes.” I hadn’t noticed before, but dark half circles sat below her eyes and tension ghosted across her face. She didn’t normally wear her stress so obviously.
“God, now that I’m about to be a mother, I wonder how Mum did it.”
“Have you seen her?” I asked.
“Yeah. Rob and I went on Monday for an hour—she had no clue who I was.”
My stomach churned. Our mother might be still alive but the vibrant, determined woman who’d started and run the Harbury Foundation had been lost to dementia a long time ago.
“Last time I was there, I gave her an update on some of the fundraising figures. You know how much she liked the detail. I thought it might reach her in some way.”
“Anything?” Abigail asked.
I couldn’t answer. I just shook my head.
“She’d love what we were doing for the rehab center this year.”
“Hey, girls,” Rob called, stopping the conversation from getting any sadder. “You got good seats, well done. With you two on the team, we’re bound to win this week.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Rob was delightfully upbeat ninety-nine percent of the time. I blew out a breath, and avoided glancing at Noah, whose heat radiated from him, while Abigail wiped her eyes.
Rob frowned. “You two okay? Did I say something?”
I patted one of the two empty chairs between me and Abigail. “No, sit down. We’ve ordered some wine.”
Noah kissed Abigail on the cheek and slid onto the chair next to me, then leaned over to kiss me, too. It was almost too much. He was too close. His scent, his warmth, his hard body was almost overwhelming. This was precisely why I needed to avoid him wherever possible.
“Hey,” he said. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“Me neither. I mean, I hadn’t planned to come, and I didn’t realize you would be here.” Jesus, I should just write it all down for him, just to be clear. How did he have me so nervous? “Abigail dragged me by the hair. Sometimes it’s easier not to argue.”
Noah chuckled. “As Rob likes to remind me, I’m unemployed so I have no good excuse to say no.”
The waiter arrived, and Abigail didn’t even let her mojito touch the table before she’d ordered another.
“It’s true,” Rob said, pouring the wine between the three glasses. “Jobless. Unemployed. A statistic.” Rob shook his head as if disappointed. “I hope you’re not claiming benefits. I don’t want my taxes going toward—”
“I’m staying plenty busy,” Noah said, shutting Rob down.
“Anything exciting on the horizon?” I asked, watching as he turned a coaster over in his hand. There was always more going on below the surface with Noah, which you had to dig to discover. It was one of the things I liked about him best.
“I’m going to invest in startups—I’d like to give businesses I believe in a chance like the one someone gave me and Concordance Tech. And I’m looking into a few other things as well—I just need to figure out—”
“Don’t think you’re getting out of that abseil,” Abigail said. “I’ve already set up your fundraising page.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” he replied.
Noah wasn’t the type to go back on his word. I wouldn’t have developed a crush on any man that did. And he’d always loved to push himself in everything. It wasn’t just extreme sports, either. It was as if every part of him dared me to fall for him.
A tap of the microphone brought our attention to the front as one of the barmen distributed blank answer sheets.
“We need to think of a name,” Rob said, pointing his pencil at the blank space at the top of the sheet. “Last time we were the Bulls.”
“That’s a terrible name,” Noah said.
“It’s because—”
“I don’t care about the reason,” he replied. “It’s a shit name. What about Quizteama Aguilera?”
I giggled. “Or the Quizzard of Oz,” I suggested.
Noah grinned, and I tried not to enjoy the fact that I’d amused him.
“Or Les Quizerables,” Noah countered. “Or Trivia Newton-John?”
I laughed out loud. “Let’s get Quizzical.” I expected Abigail to laugh, but when I glanced over, her gaze was fixed on the bar.
Rob looked irritated but scribbled down Les Quizerables at the top of the sheet. “Come on, guys. We have to take this seriously.” He nodded at Noah and me. “With you two brainiacs we could win this week.”
“Oh, we’ll win,” Noah said with such authority that he left no room for doubt. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”
“Round one,” the man at the front with the microphone announced. “General knowledge. Granadilla is another name for which fruit?”
Noah and I answered at the same time, “Passionfruit.”
I glanced at Noah, who grinned right at me.
Rob narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but he knew better than to question what we were saying and he wrote down the answer.
I tentatively looked over at Abigail but she had her eyes shut. When she grimaced, I reached over and patted her hand. “Hey, are you okay?” I asked.
She plastered on a smile. “Of course. I think maybe I need to eat something. I’ll go and order some snacks.”
“Pudong, meaning ‘east bank’, is the financial district of which city?”
“Easy,” Noah said, lifting his chin in a challenge he aimed at me.
“Shanghai,” I replied with a little shake of my head.
He rolled his eyes—he knew I was right. God, I’d missed how good Noah always made me feel—like being the clever sister was okay. He didn’t seem to look at me as some brainiac but as an equal.
I glanced over at Abigail, who was chatting to the barman about the menu.
“Name the fictional Welsh fishing village that features in the play Under Milk Wood?”
I rolled my eyes. Everyone knew this.
“I’ve read it but never heard it, so best I can do is spell it,” Noah said. “L-l-a-r-e-g-g-u-b.”
“How the fuck do you remember how to spell that?” Rob asked.
“It’s bugger all, backward,” I explained.
Rob underlined that answer as if we got extra points for that question or something. “Shit, we’re definitely going to win tonight.”
“No doubt,” Noah said, holding my gaze and grinning in that way he had that made me feel that I was the only woman in his world.
Noah was affable and charming, made everyone feel like he was their friend, but underneath it all was a determination, a steel that I imagined could make him ruthless when he wanted to be, a tough negotiator, a hard decision maker. The combination had made him successful, allowed him to sleep with women and walk away without a second thought, and made him my personal kryptonite.
Abigail looked a little pale as she made her way back from the bar. “Do you need some fresh air?” I asked.
She stopped and blinked at me several times in quick succession. My heart began to pound. Something was wrong. I reached for her just as she collapsed.
“Rob!” I screamed as I gripped her arm. She was conscious, but it was as if her legs weren’t working. I crouched down. “It’s okay. Just sit. Don’t try to get up.” I glanced up when Rob appeared on her other side.
“Ambulance,” Noah said into his phone. “She’s pregnant and has collapsed. At the Crown and Horses on Haverstock Hill. Hurry!”
SEVEN
Truly
Rob emerged through the double doors and into the waiting area, his eyes downcast and his pallor as gray as the linoleum floors.
I jerked out of my seat. “What? What did they say?”
He shook his head. “They’re still running tests. Her blood pressure is insanely high. They’ve got her lying in some weird position to take the pressure off the baby, which I don’t really un
derstand. They think it’s pre-eclampsia.”
“But she’s going to be okay?” I needed certainty. Facts. What tests? What the fuck was pre-eclampsia?
“She’s conscious and has a little more color back. They’ve given her a sedative and she’s on a drip.”
“I knew she was doing too much, putting too much pressure on herself.” My nails bit into my palms as I fisted my hands.
“You know that’s her nature. I’d told her a thousand times to slow down, but she seemed to be doing more rather than less.” Rob pressed his fingers into his temples as if he needed to find a solution. “She doesn’t listen to me. She wanted things in place for when the baby was born. She’s been worried about the foundation and the rehab center—she takes too much on.” He scrubbed his hands over his face.
This was my fault. If I’d been able to ease her burden, if the fundraising didn’t all fall on her, she wouldn’t be in this position. “She knows donations will grind to a halt when she leaves,” I said, mumbling. “I’m completely incompetent at her job.”
“You’re hardly incompetent,” Noah said from beside me.
“I am. All I can do is the numbers. Abi is the heart of the foundation.”
“Well, after this, I’m prying the baton out of her hands and handing it to you.” Rob paused, fixed his lips in a thin, straight line, and glanced at the floor as if he were stopping himself from saying more.
I swallowed.
“If, God willing, she and the baby are okay, things have got to change. She has to do less.” He sounded almost angry with me, but I understood. I hadn’t done enough to ensure Abigail was taking it easy. I should have insisted she cut back her hours, but then what? Who would do the stuff she was so good at? Especially running into the prime season for fundraising.
“Let’s just focus on Abigail right now,” Noah said. “It’s good that she’s conscious and she’s in the best place to help her. All we can do is stay calm and wait.”
“Can I see her?” I asked.
Rob shoved his hands in his pockets. “The doctors said no. Just me. They’re trying to keep her stable.”
I wanted to look at my beautiful twin sister, have her tell me she was fine and it was all a big overreaction. I needed things to go back to the way they were. Her telling me she was older and knew better. And it might only be by six and a half minutes but somehow, over the years, those extra seconds counted for a lot. She was the one who plowed the path in front of us while I followed. I couldn’t survive without her. I’d wither and die without her constant sunshine and smiles.