by Susan Lewis
‘I don’t know,’ Vivi replied, looking around too. Part of her wished her mother wouldn’t come so she could go home with Michelle and her daddy. Then her mother was there, pushing through the crowd, looking flustered and worried and then relieved when she spotted Vivi.
‘There you are,’ she gasped, stooping to pull Vivi into her arms. ‘The bus didn’t come so I had to walk. How did you like your first day?’
‘Hello, I’m Michelle,’ Michelle said, tapping Gina’s arm. ‘Me and Vivi are best friends.’
Gina broke into a delighted smile. ‘That’s lovely to hear,’ she replied, seeming to mean it.
‘This is my daddy. His name’s Paul.’
Gina turned to the tall, fair-haired man, and Vivi hoped they would fall in love and get married.
‘Hello, I’m Gina Shager,’ her mother said, holding out a slender hand to shake his big, bony one. ‘It’s very nice to meet you.’
‘We’ve met before,’ he informed her, ‘but I don’t expect you remember me. My wife is one of your clients. I come to pick her up from time to time. Yvonne Markham.’
‘Of course,’ Gina said, her smile taking on more warmth. ‘I do recognize you now.’
‘Daddy, can Vivi and her mummy come for tea?’ Michelle demanded. ‘Please say yes.’
Laughing, he said, ‘Maybe not today, sweetheart. We’re going to see Grandma and Grandpa, remember?’
‘Oh yes. Vivi lives with her grandparents, don’t you, Vivi?’ She said it with such admiration that Vivi immediately felt important and glad to say yes.
‘Can I give you a lift somewhere?’ Paul Markham offered, as they walked away from the school.
‘Oh, that’s very kind of you,’ Gina replied, ‘but there’s a bus …’
‘It wouldn’t be any trouble,’ he insisted. ‘Are you going home, or back into town?’
‘Home. I’ve closed the salon for the rest of the day.’
‘Then if I’m not greatly mistaken you’re heading for Westleigh Bay. Isn’t that where you live?’
‘How do you know that?’ Vivi asked him, thinking he probably knew magic.
Twinkling, he said, ‘Didn’t Michelle tell you that I know everything?’
‘He does,’ Michelle asserted earnestly.
It wasn’t until after Paul and Michelle had dropped them off that Vivi said to her mother, ‘Do all daddies know everything?’
Ushering her along to the front door, Gina said, ‘I’m sure he knows where we live because Michelle’s mummy told him. Or maybe he knows Nana and Grandpa.’
Vivi felt a bit disappointed by that. ‘I wish you could marry him,’ she said glumly.
‘Oh, Vivi, don’t be silly,’ and pushing open the door Gina shouted, ‘Mum! Dad! Here comes our big girl after her first day at school. And you’ll never guess what, she already has a best friend.’
As Vivienne let the memory drift away she was remembering how she’d wanted to be the one to tell NanaBella and Grandpa that she’d made a best friend that day. Then the thought was gone as she saw Michelle leaning over her, except it wasn’t Michelle, it was a nurse showing concern with a smile that seemed to ask a question.
Was she waiting for an answer to something?
The nurse held up a mobile phone. ‘You’ve lots of messages,’ she said softly. ‘Would you like to read them?’
Vivi wasn’t sure what to say. It was hard to think straight, to know anything about what she did or didn’t want, apart from this not to be happening.
She didn’t want to connect with anyone’s pity. She understood they were sorry, that everyone was anxious to come and see her, but there was nothing they could do and she didn’t want them to try. It would only make everything worse.
Worse would be if they didn’t care.
‘I can read them to you if you like,’ the nurse offered.
Vivi looked at her round, olive-skinned face with its deep brown eyes and pear-shaped birthmark covering one cheek. She should probably know her name, but for the moment she couldn’t remember it, and realizing that, she felt tears sting her eyes. What was going to happen to her now? Who was she? Where was her mother?
She heard a voice and realized it was her own. ‘Arnie Novak is coming to talk to us in the morning,’ she said, naming the senior cardiologist. The nurse would already know this, but for some reason Vivi was feeling the need to say it. ‘My mother won’t admit it, but she’s afraid it’s going to be bad news.’
The nurse’s tender eyes gave nothing away as she said, ‘It’s natural for her to feel worried, but …’
‘I don’t seem to be getting any better,’ Vivi interrupted.
‘You’re stronger now than you were a week ago.’
Vivi didn’t argue, because it was true. She closed her eyes and felt the relief of giving in to exhaustion – it was so much easier than trying to fight it.
When Vivi woke up again Mark was there, plugged into his iPhone, probably watching the latest episode of Breaking Bad. He’d told her, when she’d first asked, that he was getting into The Walking Dead.
‘Good choice,’ she’d croaked drily.
‘I thought it was appropriate,’ he’d grinned, knowing it would make her smile too. They’d always had an easy, teasing relationship in spite of their difference in ages. From the moment her mother had brought him home from the hospital, all big blue eyes and grasping fists, Vivi had loved having a brother, and nothing had ever happened to change that.
Now, realizing she was awake, he tugged out his earbuds and removed his feet from the edge of the bed. ‘Hey, looking good,’ he said admiringly, looking a lot better himself than he had over the past few days. He’d shaved and made an effort with a comb, and with his naturally moody eyes, strong jaw and drop-dead smile he surely had to be the fittest nineteen-year-old going. Not that she was biased.
‘Where’s Mum?’ she asked.
‘Downstairs in the coffee shop with a couple of your work friends. Do you want some water, or anything?’
‘Water would be good.’
After sipping from the glass he passed her, she said, ‘You don’t have to hang around here, you know. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do …’
‘Hey, we’re only on season one of Breaking Bad. There are four more seasons to go after that.’
Lifting a hand she linked her fingers through his, careful not to dislodge the tube in hers. He was more man than boy now, almost six feet tall with toned biceps and broad shoulders, but he would always be her little brother. ‘It’s a good series,’ she told him, grateful for the distraction it had provided during the endless hours they were spending here, in spite of how often she nodded off. She couldn’t be entirely sure, but she suspected she was asleep more often than she was awake.
He shrugged. ‘Everyone said it was fantastic, but I never got round to it until now.’
‘Promise not to keep me here for the entire five seasons,’ she said wryly.
‘It’s a deal. Let’s aim for starting season two at home, yeah?’
Her eyes drifted at the mention of home. They both still referred to it as that, even though she’d left when she was eighteen and so had he. The only family they had in Kesterly these days was their mother, who’d moved back in with NanaBella after her marriage to Gil had ended. Gina now had the whole of number eight Bay Lane to herself, the last house of ten (there was now a 1A and 2A) past a private gate (always open) off the coast road. They were less than fifty metres from the towering coastal cliffs of Exmoor, with a back garden that climbed in wide, low layers up to a rocky ridge behind. Their front garden looked out over the circular turning space of the cul de sac to a wide stretch of sandy dunes that separated their house from the beach and constantly changing vista of the estuary beyond.
She and Mark still had their rooms at number eight, unchanged from the time they’d left, and always freshly made up in case they made a surprise return. All the neighbours they’d known while growing up had moved on now, having sold their desi
rable seafront properties to the London elite for use as holiday homes. Vivi had never understood why any of them would want a place in Kesterly-on-Sea when they surely could have afforded much more exotic locations on the south coast, or even in Europe. Never in a million years would she have chosen the dreary, depressing coastal town as a weekend or summer escape. She was a London girl through and through, she wanted colour, life …
She didn’t realize her eyes had drifted closed until she heard Mark say to whoever had come in, ‘I think she’s asleep.’
‘OK, I’ll stay for a while in case she wakes up,’ Gil murmured.
For the next few minutes Vivi drifted in and out of awareness, catching only parts of what was being said and who was saying it. However, it seemed Gil was going to be around for Arnie Novak’s visit tomorrow, and her mother, who had returned, was sounding grateful for it. Gil was such a good man, so gentle and considerate. She’d always feel grateful to him, love him, for the differences he’d made to her life during the time he’d been in it – differences he still made, in his way. Mark was lucky to have him as a father. Gil would be there for his son if the news wasn’t good tomorrow. He’d be there for Gina too if she’d allow it, but Vivi wasn’t sure that she would.
‘Why don’t you have a daddy?’ Michelle whispered.
‘I do,’ Vivi whispered back. She glanced at the bedroom door to make sure it was closed and no shadows were moving about in the cracks of light underneath. They were having a sleepover tonight, at her house, and she didn’t want her mother to hear what they were saying.
‘Then where is he?’ Michelle asked.
Vivi hesitated. She’d never shared this secret with anyone, hadn’t even admitted to herself out loud that she knew who her father was, but she thought she could trust Michelle. ‘I can show you if you like,’ she dared to suggest.
In the orangey glow from the nightlight Michelle looked excited and dreamlike, as though she was a kind of fairy whose very presence could make things come true.
‘You’ll have to be really quiet,’ Vivi cautioned. ‘I’m not supposed to know where he is, but I found him in my mum’s room when she was outside in the garden.’
Bemused and seeming a little worried, Michelle crept on tiptoe after Vivi, out of the room and along the passage to the three stairs that led up to a door that was half open.
Vivi paused, listening for the sound of the TV downstairs. Her mum and NanaBella always watched Come Dancing on Saturday nights, and from the sound of the music she could tell it had already started. That was good, because they wouldn’t be able to hear anything else, not that she and Michelle were going to make a noise. Grandpa, she knew, was out at one of his card nights, so he wouldn’t hear them either.
‘Better not turn the light on,’ she whispered to Michelle as they crept into her mother’s room, ‘but the curtains aren’t drawn yet, so we might be able to see.’
Michelle kept close behind as Vivi led the way round the high bed with four short posts and over to a chest of drawers with photographs of a baby on the top (Vivi), and a wooden-framed mirror that reflected an unlit chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling.
‘Ssh,’ Vivi murmured as she eased open the bottom drawer. ‘He’s in here.’
Michelle was looking worried again. ‘Is it a photo?’ she said faintly.
Vivi shook her head, and pushing aside a pile of clothes she found what she was looking for and lifted it out.
Michelle stared at the big round bundle. ‘If it’s his head I don’t want to see it,’ she said earnestly.
‘It’s not his head,’ Vivi assured her, and carefully unwrapping the muslin shroud she revealed a heavy bronze figure of a man in a hat and a baggy suit, with arms outstretched and legs that seemed to be moving. ‘This is him,’ Vivi whispered, holding it so Michelle could get a good look. ‘I think it’s why my mum always watches Come Dancing, just in case he’s on.’
Michelle was bewitched. ‘Why does your mum keep him wrapped up in a drawer?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know.’
‘You should ask her.’
‘I think she’d be cross if I did.’
Seeming to understand that, Michelle continued to gaze at the sculpture until Vivi wrapped it up again and put it back in the drawer.
Vivi was feeling strangely distanced from the life-saving equipment around her, hardly hearing it, or even sensing its attachments to her body, as she willed time to stop or, better still, turn back. Her mother and Mark were on one side of the bed, Michelle and Gil on the other and the senior cardiac nurse plus two junior doctors were grouped around the end, trying to look professional and compassionate. Dr Novak himself, with his Slavic features and easy manner, was studying the tablet he’d been handed on entering the room, assessing the latest reports of her progress and saying nothing yet.
Eventually he turned his attention to Vivienne and smiled in a way that made her feel fleetingly brave, even though she was racked with dread.
What was he going to say? Whatever it was she had to try to deal with it, even if it was bad.
As he came closer his grey eyes didn’t move from hers, and for a bewildering moment it felt as though they were the only ones in the room. ‘What I’m about to tell you is good news,’ he began in his pleasantly accented voice, but before Vivienne could register relief he was saying, ‘It probably won’t seem like it at first, but once you’ve had time for it to sink in I think you’ll agree that it is.’
Vivienne’s eyes went to her mother. Gina apparently didn’t understand either. She was clinging tightly to Mark’s hand.
‘You have presented us with an unusual situation,’ Dr Novak informed her, ‘because the sort of infarctions and arrests you’ve suffered are currently falling between two diagnoses. Please don’t look so worried.’ He smiled gently. ‘I said unusual, not impossible, as both conditions are treatable, it’s simply a question of going forward in the right way.’
This was sounding reasonable, not too frightening. Treatable was always good.
‘… because of the damage the muscle – your heart – has suffered, and the complications that have arisen, I’m afraid your recovery isn’t going in the way we’d hoped.’ He put a hand over Vivienne’s as though sensing the deepening of her fear, and wanting to hold her back from it. ‘It’s my professional opinion,’ he said softly, ‘that your heart isn’t strong enough to give you much more than a year of life, and that life won’t be like the one you’ve known up until now. This is why, with your permission, I’m going to recommend that you are assessed for a transplant.’
Vivienne heard a gasp, a small cry of shock, but she had no idea where it had come from. Maybe her; or maybe it was her mother. Her eyes were still on Dr Novak’s, her fingers holding fast to his, as if letting go would cause her to spiral down into an abyss of such darkness and despair that she would never find her way back.
He began speaking again, saying more, much more, but none of it changed what he’d already said. The heart she had was so weak, so sick, that unless it was replaced, and soon, she was going to die.
CHAPTER FOUR
SHELLEY
Early Summer 1989
‘… and I’m the one who has to name him, because he’s going to be my pig, isn’t he, Daddy?’
‘He is indeed,’ Jack cheerfully confirmed, while glancing in the rear-view mirror to where all three of his children were framed like a small family portrait – Hanna aged eight, Zoe seven next week, and four-year-old Josh, soon to be the proud owner of one small pig. Josh was a miniature version of his father; the same untameable dark hair, deep blue eyes and a smile that was as infectious as his laugh – apart from in his sisters’ opinion, but he didn’t worry too much about that.
Shelley checked the wing mirror on her door of the old Land Rover, making sure Jack’s brother, Nathan, and his wife, Katya, were still in close pursuit. This was going to be Nate and Kat’s first visit to the Dean Valley County Fair, and while the children were thrille
d to have them along, their aunt and uncle’s most important task today was to tow the trailer that would later carry home any new livestock they purchased, most importantly the piglet.
Behind the Land Rover was another trailer, this one transporting Milady, the imperious, overweight and highly coiffed sheep that Zoe was entering into the children’s Best in Show competition. Zoe had done most of the grooming herself – post shearing, which she’d watched closely with her inexpert eye to make sure a good job was done – and had only just stopped short of mascara and lipstick. She’d also persuaded Jack to join her for a camp-out in the barn last night to make sure no rival competitor tried to steal the potential prizewinner. (There had been no reports of rustling in their area, but someone had put the idea into Zoe’s head and so all precautions had to be taken.)
‘I’m going to call him Alan,’ Josh announced for the twenty-eighth time, bouncing up and down between his sisters. His excited little face was as flushed and eager as it always was at the prospect of a newcomer to his personal menagerie. He’d been collecting, studying, doctoring, releasing and sometimes burying wildlife since he was old enough to know what it was, and his enthusiasm for all creatures great and small was only surpassed by his incredible, even instinctive understanding of their peculiar habits and needs.
‘Everyone thinks Milady is going to win,’ Zoe informed them confidently. ‘Mummy, you remembered to bring the camera, didn’t you?’
‘I did,’ Shelley assured her.
‘Stop jerking about,’ Hanna protested as Josh knocked into the cress sculpture she was holding. She’d grown it into the shape of a cookie monster over the past few weeks in preparation for the show, and Josh’s life wasn’t going to be a long one if he bumped it again. ‘Daddy, did I tell you that Lydia Harris has made a horse with her cress, but it doesn’t really look like one?’
‘Yours does,’ Josh informed her loyally.
‘It’s not supposed to be a horse!’ she cried furiously. ‘It’s a monster, you idiot.’