by Susan Lewis
What a sobering, nightmarish thought that was; she could be in the throes of an emergency CPR at any minute, all carried out by the little gadget inside her. Still, it was better than the alternative of letting the heart try to fend for itself, when it clearly couldn’t. She’d been warned that the shock of the device going off was likely to hurt – a lot – but only for seconds. Like a donkey kick to the chest, she’d both read and heard. It might also sap her strength and leave her incapacitated for a while, but there again she might be able to continue as though it hadn’t happened at all. She guessed she’d find out soon enough; she just hoped that the many emotional conflicts tearing around her depleted vital muscle right now wouldn’t trigger an emergency all on their own.
It took no more than fifteen minutes to drive along the coast road past the marina, Ed and Kev’s donkey sanctuary, then a wide and wild stretch of wasteland apparently about to be developed. Just after that they reached the narrow spur of Bay Lane that would be easy to miss for anyone who didn’t know it was there, for the main road curved sharply away from the shore at that point to continue on to the lower reaches of Westleigh Heights. The Heights, as the area was more commonly known, was where Michelle’s family had always lived. It was also where Vivi and Mark had lived during the time their mother had been married to Gil. After the break-up they’d returned to their grandmother’s house on Bay Lane.
Most of the properties on the lane, now used as holiday homes, were set back behind high wooden gates and protective laurel bushes. Number eight wasn’t much different, except the gates were always open and the hedges were low enough to see across the lane to the dunes and estuary beyond. Gil pulled into the drive and came to a stop in front of the double-fronted Edwardian house where an Audi convertible was already parked. Gina’s VW Beetle was presumably tucked away in the garage, and Vivi felt her spirits sink even lower as she remembered that she was no longer allowed to drive.
However, one look at Michelle’s wonderful, freckly face as she came out of the house was a tonic she hadn’t expected. The joy of seeing her, of realizing she was going to be there for her, was helping, if only for a few moments, to lift her from the misery she was in.
After hugging carefully and tearfully, Vivi gazed into Michelle’s tender blue eyes and saw straight away that the bond they’d always shared was still there. They didn’t need words to express it, they could both feel it and that was enough. There would be time later for talking, for trying to come to terms with what was happening and how they were going to cope. For now Vivi allowed Michelle to take her into the house, so glad she was there that it took her a moment to register the familiar scent of the place. It transported her back over many years, confusing her with emotions as all kinds of memories flashed up, and nostalgia closed in on her like the tide lapping the shore outside. The hallway was long and only just wide enough for the two friends to walk side by side past the old telephone table and coat hooks towards the foot of the carpeted stairs. They stopped at the threshold of the room NanaBella had always called her best room. It occupied the whole of the right side of the house with views out to the beach through the bay window at the front, and French doors to the garden at the back. The door to the left led to the kitchen-diner and family room for everyday use. NanaBella had entertained Gil in the best room when he was dating Gina, wanting to impress him and make him feel welcome as though he was someone very special, which he was.
Apparently her mother had asked Michelle to get the room ready for Vivi, and it was clear from the pillow arrangement, scented candles and new Smart TV beside the old-fashioned tiled fireplace that Michelle had done her best, but it wasn’t what Vivi wanted.
‘I’m not an invalid,’ she growled, when she saw that the small double bed from the guest room had been set up in place of NanaBella’s rosewood dining table. ‘I can get up the stairs.’ It might take her a while to achieve it, but she was determined to try.
‘No one’s saying you can’t,’ her mother replied evenly. ‘I just thought it would be nice for you to have your own room for entertaining – and, well, it’s a place you can call your own.’
Vivi said, ‘So what are you going to do for a sitting room?’
Gina’s eyes stayed on her, but her cheeks were flushed with colour, showing how upset and sorry she was that she’d apparently got it wrong. ‘We have the one we’ve always used,’ she reminded her.
Vivi decided not to protest any further because Gil, Mark and Michelle were clearly feeling embarrassed and sorry for Gina, and who could blame them?
‘I expect the kettle’s boiled by now,’ Michelle said cheerfully. ‘Let’s go and have some tea.’
Vivi stayed where she was, looking around the large, rectangular room with its cream and yellow flowered wallpaper and NanaBella’s mustard-colour three-piece suite. The sofa converted to a bed and had always been used when the house was full at Christmas or for birthdays – and now for when a dying daughter might have a visitor? It was so depressingly outdated, and so different from her wonderful flat in Chelsea that she wanted to sob. Aware that she might damage herself if she gave in to too much emotion, she put a hand to the implant in her shoulder, feeling its sharp edges through her skin, and let tears drop onto her cheeks. Her conscience was flooding her with beautiful, happy memories of times spent in this room when sparkling Christmas trees had filled the niche next to the fireplace, and when she’d helped NanaBella to set the table for all kinds of special occasions.
How could she be so ungrateful and mean about the room NanaBella had been so proud of? The room she’d apparently once helped her grandpa to wallpaper when she was three (no doubt causing havoc); where she used to practise her ballet for her mother and NanaBella, and where she’d watched NanaBella weep tears of joy as she’d taken a day-old Mark from Gil to cradle him in her arms.
Now her mother had turned this special place into hers, to try to make her life easier.
‘OK?’ Mark said softly, sliding an arm round her shoulder and putting a mug of tea into her hand.
‘I will be,’ she promised. She rested her head against him, inhaling the earthy, tangy smell that was so familiar and comforting it made her want to weep again. ‘Have I upset her?’ she asked, briefly closing her eyes.
‘She’ll get over it.’
Her gaze went to a sideboard where photographs of them both at various stages of their lives were displayed in silver and leather frames. There were several of their grandparents too, at their wedding, her christening, Mark’s first birthday party, but there was only one of their mother, with Vivi and Mark at Vivi’s graduation.
There used to be one of Gina and Gil on their wedding day, but it had been taken down soon after they’d broken up and Gina had returned to live with her mother.
‘I don’t know why I feel so angry with her,’ she said. ‘It’s like I’m blaming her for what’s happening when it obviously isn’t her fault.’
‘I heard Dad telling her that it was natural to lash out at people you love when you’re feeling afraid. She probably knew that already, but I think it helped her to hear it.’
Vivi felt sure it had.
Michelle appeared and drew her into a careful embrace.
‘I won’t break,’ Vivi promised, relaxing into the feel of her, and wishing it could be just the two of them, though not wanting Mark to leave. Or Gil. Or her mother.
‘You look tired,’ Michelle told her.
Vivi’s weary eyes managed a spark. ‘If you’re about to tell me to lie down then don’t,’ she warned, meaning it to sound like a mock rebuke, but it didn’t quite come out that way.
‘I wasn’t,’ Michelle assured her, apparently unfazed. ‘It was just a comment. I’ll trust you to know when you need to eat or sleep or pee or whatever you fancy. Mum’s just texted to ask if you’re feeling up to having dinner at her place tonight. All of you,’ she added, looking at Mark.
Not wanting to admit that she wasn’t up to it, while feeling grateful for the way Michelle
and her family were drawing her back into the fold, Vivi looked round as Gil called out, ‘Hey, son, can you give me a hand to bring this lot in?’
Realizing it was some of her belongings from the flat, Vivi’s eyes went to Michelle’s, knowing, because her mother had told her, that her friend had helped to pack them sometime over the last few days. She felt so useless and wretched that she didn’t know what to say or do.
‘We’ve arranged for a man with a van to bring your furniture,’ Gil told her as he came along the hall with a heavy box. ‘Once it’s here we can get things looking a bit more like your kind of home.’
Unable to stop herself, Vivi looked down at the carpet with its yellow and black diamond design and in spite, or maybe because of how awful it was, she found herself wanting to laugh.
Gil followed her eyes, and Michelle said drily, ‘I think it qualifies as retro.’
‘Just what I was going to say,’ Gil agreed.
Mark said, ‘Remember, NanaBella was always going on about changing it.’
It was true, but the room was used so little they’d ended up forgetting about it, even after NanaBella had gone. Gina only used the other side of the house, which was much more up to date.
‘Do you want me to take this stuff upstairs?’ Mark asked. ‘Or would you rather have it down here?’
Though Vivi had no idea what was in each of the holdalls or boxes, she remained determined that this wouldn’t be her full-time base, so she said, ‘Upstairs.’
‘Are you sure?’ her mother asked, coming out of the kitchen.
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Vivi told her shortly.
Apparently not wanting to fight, but still keen to get her way, Gina said to Mark, ‘Anything that needs to come down again can always be sorted out later.’
Vivi turned away, and Michelle put a steadying hand on her arm.
‘If we’re going to Yvonne’s for dinner,’ Gina said, ‘then I think you should have a lie-down first.’
Vivi was tense to breaking. ‘Do you?’ she muttered.
She didn’t have to see her mother’s expression turn to one of awkwardness and regret as she picked up on her unrealized error, because she could feel it. It took a lot of effort for Vivi to raise her head and say, ‘I’m sorry, you’re right,’ because of course her mother was, and she really didn’t want to hurt her.
‘I’ll go on ahead to give Mum a hand,’ Michelle said, breaking the tension. ‘The kids are dying to see you, Vivi, but if you’d rather wait till tomorrow, Sam can always stay at home with them tonight.’
In spite of knowing she’d prefer to wait, Vivi said, ‘I’ll be fine by the time we get there, so I’d love to see them.’ Life had to go on. She needed to find the strength to be normal.
After Michelle had gone Mark took himself off upstairs, and Gil remarked to no one in particular, ‘Well, I guess I probably ought to be making a move.’
Vivi waited for her mother to protest, but Gina said, ‘Thanks very much for driving us today. We couldn’t have managed without you.’
Pulling Vivi into his arms, he spoke tenderly. ‘Take care of yourself, sweetheart. You know where I am if you need me.’
‘Thanks,’ she mumbled, close to tears again. She desperately wanted him to stay, to carry on understanding her and her mother the way he always seemed to, but they weren’t his responsibility any more. Her mother had seen to that.
As Gina walked outside with him Vivi watched from the window, wondering what they were saying and if they would kiss. They did, but briefly, dutifully almost, before Gil got into his car.
By the time her mother came back Vivi was perched on the edge of the sofa trying to get a sense of the ICD, and whether it was registering any rogue events in her heart to relay to the cardiac team later.
‘Can I get you anything?’ Gina offered.
Vivi looked at her as hard as she could as she said, ‘Why do you do it?’
Gina flushed. ‘Do what?’
‘Why do you send him away when any fool can see that you want him to stay?’
Gina flinched. ‘He’s got someone else,’ she replied.
This was the first Vivi had heard of someone else, and for a horrible moment it felt as though he was cheating on her mother, and on her. ‘If it’s serious,’ she heard herself saying angrily, ‘then you only have yourself to blame.’
Gina didn’t argue, merely set about straightening up cushions that didn’t need it at all.
There was so much more that Vivi wanted to say, or shout, or simply beg answers to, but it took all the energy she had left to say, ‘Everything’s different now, Mum, I hope you realize that. I intend to find out the truth before I die,’ and knowing Gina understood exactly what she meant she turned away, not able to say any more for now.
Vivi had been awake for a while, remembering when Gil had come into their lives and bought a house only four doors away from Michelle’s parents on Westleigh Heights.
He hadn’t only done it for her so she could stay living close to Michelle, as she’d believed at the time, he’d done it for her mother and NanaBella, because NanaBella hadn’t wanted Gina and Vivi to leave Kesterly either. So Gil had kept everyone together by renting out his home in Bath, relocating his consultancy business to Kesterly, and, best of all, he’d come most days to pick her up from school. That had shut everyone up about her not having a father, because they’d been able to see him, and so what if he wasn’t a real dad? As Michelle used to say, ‘That makes him even more special, because he chose you.’
Smiling at the sweet belief of that, Vivi opened her eyes, and wondered what time it was and, for a moment, where she was.
As everything came into focus she felt herself swirling back towards an abyss of despair. At the same time she was glad to be here, at home, no longer in hospital, and really she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, or with anyone else, while this was happening.
While this was happening.
That made it seem temporary; something simply to be got through until better days dawned. It was a good way to think of it, far better than the alternative of days becoming shorter and darker until there were no days at all.
She closed her eyes again, and tried to refocus, to think of the reasons to be grateful, and the many things she needed to do before time ran out. She realized there would be no bucket list for her – or not one that included daredevil stunts, long-haul flights or weeks of hot, passionate sex on a beach in the South Seas with a younger version of George Clooney. Her list would have to be far less ambitious – organizing her meditation programme would be a start. She also needed to see her GP, meet the specialist team at the local cardiac clinic who were taking over her interim care, and then she should make sure that the Kesterly ambulance service had been informed of the need to rush her to the transplant centre at a moment’s notice should a new heart come up.
Feeling certain that the cardiac team had already done that, and if not her mother would have, she sighed shakily and tried to change her train of thought again. It did no good to torment herself with the deeply troubling issue of someone having to die in order for her to live. She wasn’t even on the most urgent transplant list – she’d probably still be in hospital if she were – so it was hardly an immediate nightmare. Maybe she should spend her time feeling thankful that she wasn’t too sick to receive a new heart, the way some people were. Nor was she having to cope with the life-saving horror of a VAD, or not until her condition worsened – which it would …
Don’t think about it, she told herself forcefully. For God’s sake put it out of your mind or you might as well give up now.
She needed to pick herself up, force herself forward and do everything in her power to make things matter again – and something that really mattered, and always had, was finding her father.
That was what she needed to focus on now, and so she would.
CHAPTER SIX
SHELLEY
Midsummer 1989
The night was warm and still, richly scen
ted by livestock and wet grass, and lit by a near full moon. Shelley was carrying a torch in one hand and a basket in the other, feeling not unlike a nocturnal Red Riding Hood as she traipsed through the small copse next to the riverbank on the far western edge of their land. Though the way was mostly clear, the darkness over the fields was faintly unnerving, as was the occasional glimpse of amber eyes watching her from the undergrowth, and the birds that suddenly fluttered or squawked in the trees. She felt sure a thousand ghosts were following her, and as for the big bad wolf who might eat Red Riding Hood all up …
Smiling as she thought of the girls squealing and ducking under the covers whenever Jack told them that story, she pushed aside a leggy bramble and trudged on through the silvery darkness.
At last she reached the riverbank and there, just where she’d expected to find it, was the home-made tent that Jack and Josh used for their moonlight vigils. Josh had been particularly excited about this one, for their mission tonight was to spot an otter, in spite of none having been seen in this county since the 1950s. However, Josh was determined to find one, and if he didn’t, well, there would be lots of other things to spot instead.
Choking back a laugh as she found them fast asleep in their hideout with Jack leaning against a backrest and Josh lying across his lap, she quietly put down her basket and stood watching them, loving how peaceful and alike they were. Both had thick dark hair that curled and waved in no particular style, and when he was older Josh was clearly going to have his father’s strong jaw and large nose.
She smiled as her precious boy opened his eyes and put a finger to his lips. He moved carefully away from his father and crawled out of the tent. ‘Dad’s asleep,’ he whispered as he reached his mother. ‘He’s missed some really good stuff. I’ve seen everything.’
‘An otter?’ Shelley asked, sitting down next to him.
‘No, but there was a hippopotamus.’ Josh’s eyes were round with awe, as though he truly believed it. ‘It was enormous,’ he confided. ‘You should have seen it. It could have eaten us all up if it had spotted us.’