“You should go for it, lad. You can never ’ave too many qualifications. You’re a bright lad an’ I’m really pleased ’ow quickly you’ve picked things up ’ere. As I keep tellin’ you, it’ll not be long before I’m ’appy to leave you ’ere to ’old the fort while I ’ave a few days off an’ that.”
Rhys fights a smile at this compliment and darts back under the car. The two continue these infrequent interjections but mostly, the garage is filled with the tinny sound of the radio, as they diagnose and treat each of the motor-patients in their care.
Finally the clock reads five and Rhys is up and wiping his hands on an already grease-sodden rag. “Okay to get off now Bill?” he checks.
“Yes son, see you tomorrow.”
Permission granted, Rhys leaves the garage and walks out into the cold Spring afternoon. It’s not long before his phone rings. It is clear from this end of the dialogue that Rhys is being teased by a friend, “I’m not under the thumb. I jus’ don’t wanna come out tonight that’s all,” he explains. “I was out last night an’ loads of times last week, if you weren’t so pissed you’d remember.”
There is a pause while Rhys’s friend must be heightening the persuasion.
“Listen,” Rhys continues, “I’ve got a fit bird to go ’ome to. Why would I want to be goin’ out all the time? Who wants to go out for MacDonalds when they got steak at home?” With that the conversation ends.
Rhys puts his phone back in his pocket as he enters the newsagents. At the confectionary counter, he swiftly picks up a Mars Bar but then stands and deliberates for at least a minute before adding a Toffee Crisp to his purchase. With a five pound note, Rhys pays for the chocolate and asks the vendor for a scratch card.
Outside, Rhys hides one chocolate bar in the security of his pocket; the other is unwrapped and quickly eaten. He uses a shiny two pence piece to rub the silver foil coating from the scratch card and blows away the debris before wiping the smooth card with the sleeve of his overall. Pausing at a public litter bin, in anticipation of the inevitable futility of this gamble, Rhys brings the scratch card towards his face for closer inspection. With a look of complete disbelief, he scratches off the peripheral silver foil which he had previously deemed unnecessary and repeatedly rubs the card with his sleeve.
Realisation sets in that his eyes are not deceiving him, and Rhys’s jaw drops but no sound comes out. Frozen to the spot, Rhys takes out his mobile phone but then reconsiders, replaces it and runs all the way home, his unburied treasure clasped in his hand.
Perspiring and out of breath, Rhys hammers on the door of the caravan. “It’s not locked you daft bugger!” a voice yells but he continues to knock, unable to muster the energy to do any more.
The door opens and Rhys falls into the caravan.
“Flake. It’s a Flake, ‘cos you just flaked out on the floor, get it? I’m right aren’t I?” Shannon looks smug.
Unable to verbally confirm or deny, Rhys holds up the Toffee Crisp as well as the winning ticket.
Finally, he manages, “We’ve only won on the bloody scratch card!”
“’ow much? Will it do our tea?”
“A bit more than that, Shannon. More like it’ll do our tea for the next twenty years!”
She replies with only a shriek and the two squeeze each other in an embrace.
When it ends and Rhys’s heart beat and voice return to normal, he looks Shannon in the eye and continues his previous train of thought, “That’s if you’ll ’ave me for the next twenty years?”
TIM
Like many of the adults on this pretty, suburban cul-de-sac, Tim is pulling onto his driveway at the end of a long day. Mums open car doors for noisy children and Dads quickly swap their suits for sporty gear, keen to squeeze in a pre-dinner run before bath time. But Tim simply carries his lap top bag into the house, and slouches on the sofa; he makes his tie slack around his neck and flicks through his options using the television remote.
No sooner has he settled down to his choice than the door bell rings. He pauses his programme and goes to answer. Standing there is Ellie, shivering.
“Er, hello,” Tim is polite but puzzled, “Can I help?”
“I’m erm, a friend of Sarah’s,” she tests.
“She’s at work love. Can I tell her who called?”
“It’s Ellie. I was just passing and wondered how she’s getting on, y’know, with the IVF. How’s it going?”
Tim is clearly taken aback by this and invites Ellie to come in from the cold. He shuts the door and they stand in the passageway.
“Sorry if I seem a bit dazed, love, we’d just agreed not to talk about it to anyone else and so I wasn’t expecting you to ask. Have we met before?” Tim’s eyes narrow as he struggles with his memory; he is truly thrown by this encounter.
“Look,” Ellie is frank, “I’m Sarah’s daughter. She’ll go mad at me for telling you but you’re going to have to find out sooner or later. And you’re hardly going to believe that she’s got a ‘friend’ my age that you’ve never met before.”
Tim is silent.
Ellie eventually fills the gap, “I really am sorry to spring it on you like this. I should have called her before I arrived but I totally forgot what time she works on a Friday.”
“It’s okay, love, come in and have a seat,” Tim processes and accepts this life changing revelation and leads the way back to the comfort of the sofa.
“We’ve only been in contact for a few weeks. I made enquiries about her at the agency, once I turned eighteen. You knew she had a daughter though right?”
“No, actually,” Tim admits, “No I didn’t.”
This time the silence is unfilled and Ellie is out of her depth as Tim gazes out of the window, blinded by this new information.
Ellie glances around the now familiar lounge and pauses at a silver framed photograph of a thinner looking Tim and his young bride.
“So how long have you two been married?” Ellie attempts to infiltrate.
“Ten years this Summer,” Tim says without looking from the window. “But we’ve been together a lot longer,” his stock response continues.
“Really?” this time Ellie is genuinely interested.
“Yes,” Tim looks to Ellie, “We’ve been together for seventeen years. Nineteen, if you count the bit at school before she dumped me for a year. You didn’t think I was old enough, did you? My youthful good looks give nothing away ...” Tim’s attempt at lightening the situation with humour is swept away by the possibility that is dawning on the pair.
The realisation that these two could be linked by more that than their relationship with Sarah is evident when Tim continues, “Yeah, childhood sweethearts, you might say; she was my first love and I was hers. Never had another girlfriend in the year that we were apart. I didn’t see Sarah much that year - we went to a huge school and kept out of each other’s way and she was off sick a lot that year - but I couldn’t stop thinking about her and eventually pestered her enough to come to the cinema with me. The rest, as they say, is history. We kind of just picked up where we’d left off.”
A knowing look passes between the two but no words are spoken.
“You don’t think ... I mean, I just presumed that Sarah would have mentioned if ... Do you reckon ...”
“I do,” is all that Tim can reply and his stunned expression gives way to a grin which reaches from ear to ear. “I think I must be ...” The grin has not faded at all and although he avoids the actual words, both know what he means.
“Bloody Hell!” he finally concludes, the grin holding fast.
ME
Well, I am both surprised and thrilled by all of my potential fathers. The doubts I may have held about their suitability from viewing them through my mothers’ eyes are truly dispersed by seeing that they are all honest, loyal and of sound moral compass. What more could a child need than to be raised by a man who would provide and care like these men will? But does this knowledge
make me gravitate towards one particular pair? I’m not sure that it does. Where I now feel pulled is into the future. I am not yet at my imminent birth. No, the cells are still not united and so my soul awaits attachment to the physical world. This flash forward is to my future; the person I now know I will become.
I see the proud parents bringing their new baby out of the hospital. They walk gingerly from the doorway of the huge building into the brightness of the low November sun, unaware of the leaves sweeping around their ankles or the wind whipping their cheeks. The well-wrapped pink parcel, snuggled in the car seat balancing on her mother’s arm, is their sole focus now as the father puts a grey suitcase into the boot of a car and they begin their slow journey home, terrified that anything should disturb or harm their precious cargo. As they arrive home, the little family are greeted by balloons and banners announcing the new arrival to the world. They take their daughter into the warmth of the house and unwrap their gift, her small limbs unfolding as they become free. She cries and they tend; Nature has programmed the two to fulfil every need of the dependent one as she lies, helpless and vulnerable, absorbing every particle of love they feel in their hearts.
I see the toddler playing with her sister. She is a happy child, only just steady on her feet. While Mother folds the clean clothes and sings her favourite nursery rhyme, the tot opens a plastic case containing vibrantly coloured imitations of medical implements. She experiments tentatively on her sibling, looking at her ears through the blood red otoscope and checking her heart still beats with the mustard yellow stethoscope. Her sister complies and remains silent but Mum distracts from potential heavy handedness by reminding the youngster that Dad will be home from work any second and she resumes her place at the window, watching and waiting for her hero to return.
I see the child, running around in the sunshine and laughter of the school playground. The other girls all vie for her attention, offering skipping ropes and suggestions for new games. But the child they compete for is more interested in the little boy sitting on the step, watching them. She goes to him, knowing even in her young years that he is different and yearns, but knows not how, to be involved in their play; he has long since given up trying to infiltrate the boisterous pushing and shoving of the boys in the class. She bends down to his level and tells him which part he will take in the game. He smiles and communicates a noise that the girl has learned to identify as signifying happiness, although his eyes remain fixed on the ground. Together they return to the group; she announces that this is her friend and he will be the elf who visits their fairy kingdom.
I see the girl taking her cat to see the Vet in a plastic ventilated box that is far too big for her to carry but despite her father’s offers, she insists on taking Tiger into the building herself. As Dad opens the door, she looks around to catch a glimpse of which other four-legged patients she might be lucky enough to see. When the Vet calls their name, she is quick to explain the problem and lifts her pet out of his box with expert care, which soothes and calms the creature in this alien environment. In one swift pull, a large tick is removed from the cat’s head and the girl looks as relieved as the animal. Once she knows he is safely back in his box, it is obvious that the girl is equally as interested in the tick; the Vet takes time to show and explain the parasite’s anatomy, clearly identifying a kindred spirit in the girl.
I see the teenager, slim and beautiful yet plain, still resistant to society’s pressure to mask these years with the unimportance of designer clothes and cosmetics. She sits in her bedroom surrounded by books, paper and pens; her eyes eagerly watch a screen which displays the words her fingers are creating on a keyboard. She knows exactly what she must do to complete this Biology assignment for school and gain the highest grade possible. Her mother gently knocks on the door and passes an apple, happy to see her diligence but also concerned that her baby will forget to eat and sleep if she does not remind her.
I see the doctor, fresh faced but confident, waiting for her first patient of her first surgery. She takes a small framed photograph of her parents, snapped on a recent holiday, out of her bag and places it on the desk. Her years of training at the ready, she is more that adequately prepared for the conundrum ahead. An elderly man walks in and quickly, the first of the day’s mystery illnesses is solved with a smile. With a glance of silent thanks to her parents, she realises that finally, the dream is coming true.
I see the woman declaring her discovery. It is repeated again and again on every channel on television and broadcast to every country around the world. The news which the planet has been waiting for. For decades it has been on its way but she has finally cracked the code and she describes her professional journey with nonchalance in this, now famous, interview. No longer will the Human Race have to live in fear, to think the worst of their body’s imperfections and to lose each other to such a terrorist. For this woman has created a serum which will become the birth right of every child; it will protect every cell in the body from hideous mutations. No government will be able to resist its affordability or the pressure from the the rest of the World to banish Cancer to history books.
The woman, the doctor, the teenager, the girl, the child, the toddler and the baby rewind at speed and I am left with nothing but peace. I mean, real peace; I have no more worries about where my Soul is to be delivered, for I know it will be okay. My next and final life was always meant to be, just the same as my previous incarnations were set aside for my Soul to experience. This state of calm is not dissimilar to that which I have felt before deaths but it is more, much more intense. I am warm and cool enough, my hunger and thirst are satisfied more than I have ever felt and I feel no need to sleep or wake. This is it. I am ready.
The images in my head, the memories and the knowledge I have recently gained are fading fast. I have seen into a future that I will soon fail to remember until it replays in real time. But I do not care and I can easily discard these thoughts. Like clothes I have outgrown, they are no sooner cast aside than forgotten. I will move on and find my new attire for I know that where I am headed, I will fulfil my destiny. Fate has consulted with my Soul and loaned it a new body, a new existence and new parents to guide me through her grand plan.
I feel lucky to have been involved in the shortlisting of these special guardians but now there is only one family in my sight. The other three couples will receive the gift of a child, I am sure, when the right spirit seeks them for a home and then they, too, will play their part in the enlightenment of the soul of another. For now, I do not see Vicky or Nell or Shannon or Sarah. Earthly shapes lose their form and I just see my Mother. Her name, her age, her wealth and her flaws fade away and I have absolute confidence that she is right for me. She loves me now and forever. She is the only perfection I will ever know. I am drawn close to her and she absorbs me into her very being, wraps me in her instant love and I know I am safe forever. There is nothing more for me to do but wait and grow strong enough to begin my final journey.
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