One Minute Later

by Susan Lewis

  ‘You had quite a high-powered job, from what I hear.’

  She smiled. ‘I suppose it could be categorized that way. Bay Lane’s about fifty yards along on the left, by the way. It’s easy to miss …’

  A few minutes later he turned the Land Rover round outside number 8 and came to a stop. As they were now talking about their student days, she didn’t immediately get out of the car. He was telling her about his time at the Royal Veterinary College, and it turned out that although they hadn’t been in London at the same time – he was more than five years older than her – they’d frequented many of the same bars and cafés, and in a more amazing coincidence they’d actually lived on the same street, albeit several years apart.

  ‘So what did you do after you graduated?’ she asked, aware of how late it was getting, but he didn’t seem keen to get away and, amazingly, she wasn’t feeling tired.

  ‘I went to South Africa to work on various animal-conservation projects,’ he replied, gazing absently out at the darkness. ‘Lions, leopards, rhinos … I was there for almost four years. I would have stayed, but …’ He threw her a look. ‘You were just being polite. Sorry …’

  ‘No, really, I’m interested. You would have stayed, but …’

  He inhaled deeply and turned his gaze back to the black expanse of sea that glittered and rippled in the moonlit bay. ‘There was a girl,’ he said. ‘She worked on one of the projects … We talked about marriage, but then it didn’t seem such a good idea when we realized we wanted different things from life.’

  Intrigued, Vivi said, ‘How different?’

  ‘Basically, Elena saw her future in her family’s business – they own a winery near Franschhoek – and I didn’t see mine there at all. So we parted, more or less amicably, and much to my mother’s relief I decided to return to Deerwood.’

  His eyes were closed now, his hands resting loosely on the base of the steering wheel, and though he was very much present, she could sense that his mind was somewhere far away. ‘Do you regret the decision?’ she ventured softly.

  He seemed surprised, but his eyes remained closed as he said, ‘To come back, or not to marry?’

  ‘Either.’

  ‘No to the second. I’m still not sure about the first.’

  There was so much more she wanted to ask; in fact she wanted to know everything about him, but that was hardly going to happen tonight.

  Or any other night, she reminded herself firmly.

  Nevertheless, she said, ‘You mentioned your mother just now. What about your father?’

  He took a breath, pressed his fingers to his eyes as though rubbing away tiredness, and said, ‘He was killed in a freak accident when I was four.’

  She quietly reeled. Four years old. So young. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, truly meaning it. ‘Do you remember him?’

  ‘Some things.’

  She let a few moments pass, wondering if she should tell him about the situation with her own father, but decided not to. Not knowing who someone was couldn’t be compared to losing a parent you’d known and loved with all your heart.

  Realizing he’d raised an eyebrow and was watching her with one eye open, she felt a reaction in her heart that she knew very well had nothing to do with her condition.

  ‘Tell me more about you,’ he said softly.

  His tone was almost intimate, and for a heady, irrational moment a part of her wanted to tell him everything, leaving out nothing, even the terrible, wrenching, cowardly fear of dying. In the end she shook her head. ‘I want to hear about Deerwood,’ she insisted.

  He pushed his hands to the roof of the car in an effort to stretch out his arms. ‘Deerwood is a long story,’ he replied, ‘too long for now, but if you’re really interested?’ He made it a question.

  ‘I am,’ she assured him.

  ‘Then let’s save it for another time.’

  Vivi let herself quietly in through the front door and stood in the hall, listening to the sound of his car driving away until she could hear it no more.

  If she’d met him three months ago she knew exactly how she’d be feeling now – gloriously alive, breathless with anticipation. She’d be unable to sleep for thinking about him; she’d lie in the moonlight, smiling, dreaming, until she drifted off, waking a few hours later to a renewed rush of wonderful memory.

  If it were three months ago she wouldn’t even be here, she reminded herself soberly. She’d be in London and would never have met him …

  Her eyes closed against a surge of misery.

  For weeks, ever since she’d known how sick she really was, there had been things she’d tried hard to keep away from, but tonight they were almost overwhelming her. She was a shell of who she used to be, a young woman who could no longer function in a way that was considered normal; she couldn’t even think about having a relationship, much less about satisfying the needs of her body, or anyone else’s. It seemed cruel, almost perverse, that those needs should still be very much alive, as though they had a pulse, a bloodstream all of their own. She could feel the longing in her body, opening her up in a way only a man could fulfil. Josh Raynor had awakened that longing, had drawn her to him without as much as a single touch …

  Starting as a light went on upstairs, she blinked the self-pitying tears from her eyes and went through to the kitchen.

  ‘Vivi? Are you all right?’ her mother called out.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she called back. ‘Sorry to wake you. I’m coming up now.’

  Apparently satisfied with that, Gina returned to bed, and Vivi felt sadness and despair flooding into her useless heart. She wanted to tell her mother how afraid she was of the future and how pointless her existence seemed. She even wanted to tell her about Josh, how surprised she’d been by him, and the connection she’d felt. She probably wouldn’t be able to find the right words to explain him, but it didn’t matter because she wasn’t going to try. Her mother would only tell her what she already knew, that no matter how hard it might be, she must put him out of her mind. She wasn’t strong enough to have the kind of relationship a man like him would need and expect, that was presuming he even wanted a relationship with her, and there was nothing to say that he did. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t happen and so there was no point putting herself through this. Life for her had changed. She must deal with the truth of that in a way that avoided delusions and false promises, and most of all avoided hurting anyone, including herself.

  Vivi ended up paying for the late night at Michelle and Sam’s with a spell of weakness and exhaustion that kept her mostly in bed for the next two days, sometimes struggling for breath, or turning her face to the pillow as she wept with despair and frustration. There was even talk of taking her into hospital for a while, but thankfully, on the third morning, when she woke from a night of scattered sleep, it was bizarrely as though she’d pulled some energy from thin air. She was able to shower and dress without her mother’s help, and when Gil came to take Gina out for lunch she decided to accept the invitation to join them.

  She needed to get out of the house, to feel she was still alive and able to escape the depression that seemed to lurk in the corners of her room as well as her mind.

  They went to the Luttrell Arms in Dunster, a place that was special to Gil and Gina. It was where he’d asked her to marry him, many moons ago, and where they’d come to celebrate the anniversary of that day every year during the time they were together.

  And now, here they were celebrating it again – with Vivi as the third wheel, or perhaps she was some kind of chaperone to make sure the day didn’t stumble into territory they couldn’t find their way back from. That would never do, at least not for Gina, and since Gil had someone else now, Vivi could only wonder what he was doing here.

  As she watched them clearly enjoying themselves she made herself laugh at something Gil was saying, not quite sure what it was, but as he and her mother seemed to find it funny, she decided to go along with it. It obviously pleased them to think she was havin
g a good time, and she was, in a way – just not in the same way as they were.

  Catching a little boy watching her from a nearby table she smiled, and loved the way he smiled back. He was probably no more than three years old, with a mass of brown curly hair and a bright red birthmark covering one of his baby-soft cheeks. His eyes were bright and happy in spite of being misaligned, and she couldn’t be sure but she thought, from the way he walked, that one of his little legs was shorter than the other.

  What a sweetheart he was. She wanted to wrap him up in her arms and thank him for smiling at her, because he’d reminded her of how little it took to make someone feel good. It was odd how children could do that so much more successfully than adults. She guessed it was because there was no artifice in their smiles; no motive at all that wasn’t born of happiness to be alive and noticed.

  ‘Penny for them,’ her mother offered.

  Vivi turned to her, and after a moment Gil said, wryly, ‘Seems like they might be worth a lot more.’

  Gina smiled, but she was clearly concerned as she said, ‘Are you all right? Is this too much for you? We can always go …’

  ‘I’m fine, Mum,’ Vivi interrupted. ‘It was a lovely idea to come here. I needed a change of scenery more than I realized.’ It was true, she really had, and if she hadn’t come she knew she’d have sat at home reading about her condition online, finding out how others were coping, searching for some hope, a way of changing her destiny, and that really wouldn’t have been a helpful distraction at all.

  What was helping her, strangely, was thinking about Josh Raynor, in spite of her resolve not to do so. During the better moments of the past few days she’d let her mind drift over the short time they’d spent together, their conversation and its many directions, and to her surprise she’d found it more calming than upsetting. She enjoyed picturing his profile in the moonlight, almost lost in shadow, and recalling the sound of his voice as he spoke, the sense of him breathing. Occasionally she’d remind herself that she had no intention of seeing him again, and she meant it, but it didn’t seem to stop her from wondering what he might be doing now, who he was with, what he might be saying, or even thinking. He’d promised to tell her about Deerwood, but he hadn’t been in touch. She wasn’t sure if she’d expected to hear by now; she only knew that she was trying hard not to wait for his call, despite the fact that she was.

  ‘That was one major swoon the other night,’ Michelle had teased when they’d finally spoken this morning. ‘He’s a dreamboat, isn’t he? I take it he got you home in one piece.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Vivi had laughed. ‘It was a lovely evening. Thanks very much.’

  ‘I’m glad you came, and the kids loved seeing you, as always.’

  They’d talked on for a while, not mentioning Josh again, though Vivi knew very well that Michelle had sensed the chemistry between them; she simply wouldn’t try to encourage a situation that had no future.

  ‘So how are you getting on with your plan to accept your lot and try to appreciate every day you have left, without panicking yourself into an early grave?’ Gil asked chattily.

  Vivi blinked in shock.

  He was smiling warmly, so was her mother, until seeming to sense that something was wrong their expressions turned to bewilderment and concern.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Vivi said quickly, realizing it was the voice in her head she’d heard, not Gil’s. Of course he hadn’t said that, he’d never be so crass or brutal. ‘I was miles away, what did you say?’

  ‘I was just asking if you’d like anything else,’ Gil replied. ‘A dessert, maybe?’

  Knowing it would please her mother to see her eat more than the few mouthfuls of sea bream she’d managed, Vivi said, ‘I’d love some fresh fruit with almonds. Thanks.’

  She was far too thin, her eyes were sinking into dark hollows, her face was as pale as a winter sky. Josh had said she didn’t look ill, but she knew she did. Some days thanks to her failing heart her lips were tinged with blue, and the strain of her condition seemed to sharpen the bones in her cheeks. How could he possibly find her attractive? How could any man?

  It would be so much easier to get through this if she could somehow shut off her mind. Even when she was sleeping she was tormented by dreams that could be beautiful and gentle at the start, until they turned into something dark and frightening, even violent. It was a reflection of her life, she thought, the one that had been happy, healthy, fulfilling in every way until suddenly it wasn’t any more.

  ‘I can’t stand doing nothing,’ she told Josh in her mind. ‘I want to be someone who uses the time I have left to make a difference in a good way. If I had cancer I’d still be able to do things, raise money for a children’s hospice; put on events in support of the British Heart Foundation; help those who are also dying so they don’t feel so alone. I’d be able to make love and dance, fly to faraway places, or throw myself into a world full of hopes and dreams.’

  What would he say in return, she wondered, and why was she talking to him in her mind when she had her mother, Gil and Michelle to talk to at any time in reality?

  ‘Is there anything in particular you’d like to do this afternoon?’ her mother asked as their desserts arrived.

  Vivi thought about suggesting they drive past Deerwood Farm on the journey home, but it was out of the way and how would she answer when her mother asked why? Which of course she would.

  So she said, with no preamble, ‘I’m having my ancestry traced using DNA.’

  Gina frowned, seeming confused for a moment, until understanding dawned and her cheeks burned with colour. ‘Why?’ she asked stiffly, and Vivi almost laughed at the disingenuousness of it.

  ‘Why do you think?’ she retorted. ‘You won’t tell me anything, so I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.’

  Gina glanced at Gil.

  ‘How exactly do you go about it?’ he enquired, making an attempt to keep things calm while they were in public.

  She explained about sending off the saliva sample to a place in Ireland. ‘Don’t worry,’ she told her mother, ‘it takes six weeks or more for the results to be posted, and I might be dead by then.’

  Gil said sharply, ‘That was uncalled for, Vivienne. We understand how difficult this is for you, but attacking your mother …’

  ‘I’m not attacking her. I’m just saying that there’s a good chance her secret will stay safe in spite of my efforts to find out who my father is.’ Before Gina could interrupt, she said, angrily, ‘Do you know how many people are waiting for donors so they can stay alive? It’s not just me, there are thousands of people, and hundreds of them have died in this past year alone. If …’

  ‘They’re not all waiting for hearts,’ Gil pointed out.

  ‘Does it matter what they’re waiting for? Do you have any idea how frightening and miserable it is for those who need dialysis every day? You should read some of their stories. I don’t know how many healthy organs have been buried or cremated this past month alone, but believe me, it’s a lot, and every one of them could have made all the difference to someone’s life. If they’d put themselves on the register, or if they’d told their families they want to try and help someone in need, then young men like Jim Lynskey might not be in the position he’s in now.’

  ‘Who’s Jim Lynskey?’ Gina asked quietly.

  ‘He’s twenty-one and he’s been waiting for a heart since he was nineteen. That’s two years, Mum. Two years. His story’s online, if you want to read it. It’s insane the way this country operates over organ donation. OK, they’re talking about an opt-out system now, but God knows how long that will take to go through Parliament. It won’t be in place in time for me, you can be sure of that …’

  Stepping in quietly, Gil said, ‘We understand what you’re saying, sweetheart, but it’s not your mother’s fault that …’

  ‘I’m not saying it is,’ Vivi interrupted hotly, though she desperately wanted to blame someone for the frustration and helplessness that
she, and everyone like her had to live with every day, never knowing if there would be a happy ending, locked in the fear that there really might not be. Fixing her eyes on her mother, she said, ‘I just don’t understand why, when you know how things are for me, and how much I want to know the truth, you still won’t tell me who my father is. I’m likely to die, for God’s sake. Can’t you at least tell me something about him?’

  Clearly agitated, Gina said, ‘I can only repeat what I’ve told you all along. It won’t help you to know who or what he is, or even where he is …’

  ‘Do you know where he is?’

  Gina’s eyes went down as she shook her head.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  As Gina flinched, Gil said, ‘Vivi, this isn’t the time or the place.’

  ‘Are you still in touch with him?’ Vivienne pressed her mother.

  ‘No, of course not,’ Gina replied. To Gil she said, ‘We should get the bill.’

  As they left the hotel and walked down through the village towards the castle, Vivi said, ‘So you’re really going to deny me my dying wish?’

  ‘What I’m doing,’ Gina said hoarsely, ‘is protecting you from something that will only hurt you and …’ She broke off as Vivi’s mobile rang.

  As she dug around in her bag Vivi knew her mother was holding her breath, the way she did every time Vivi’s mobile rang. Maybe a donor had been found. They should be readying themselves for a mad dash to the transplant centre. Vivi herself felt sick with the dread and the hope of it.

  It was a number she didn’t recognize.

  She clicked on carefully and waited for someone to speak.

  ‘Hi. Vivi? It’s Josh Raynor. Is this a good time?’

  As the surprise passed she felt suddenly as though she’d swallowed sunshine. ‘Of course,’ she said warmly. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m good. I was hoping to see you again.’

  Thrilled and overcome with eagerness, she hardly knew what to say, apart from, ‘That would be lovely. I’m free most days.’

  There was a wonderful irony in his tone as he said, ‘Oh well, if you’re going to play hard to get I shall just come over there and beat the door down.’