by Susan Lewis
‘Where are the other sons these days? Surely not still in prison?’
He grimaced. ‘Not unless they’ve been sent back for something else since. I don’t think they served very long, a couple of years at most. They visit Dean Manor from time to time with wives and children, but our paths don’t often cross. I have to admit, I try to make sure they don’t. I haven’t forgotten the way Charlie, one of the twins, tried to drag me into whatever happened to his brother, just because I rode a motorbike. Felix, the younger brother, put a stop to it, but my mother’s sure if they could have got away with it they’d have pinned something on me, to try and divert attention away from the real offender.’
‘They sound so charming,’ Vivi remarked drily.
His eyes shone with humour. ‘Enough about them,’ he declared. ‘Tell me why you seemed surprised to see me today.
It was true, she had been surprised, and now she was infuriated with herself for having allowed a horrible sense of insecurity and foreboding to dominate her weekend. ‘It was just a feeling I had on Saturday,’ she confessed. ‘I’m not sure where it came from, but when you drove off it felt as though I was seeing you for the last time. It was so convincing that I …’ She shrugged. ‘I guess I believed it.’
Seeming bemused by that, he said, ‘Well, here I am, but you’re still looking … sad?’
Wondering how he could read her so easily, she shook her head as she said, ‘Not sad, exactly, just …’ She wasn’t sure how to put this into words that wouldn’t embarrass or even upset her. Maybe she shouldn’t try. But with the way things were, was there any point in holding back? What did she have to lose by being as honest with him as she tried to be with herself? So with a sigh, she said, ‘I’m feeling frustrated and angry that I can’t do more. For your sake, as well as mine. I mean, most days I feel fine, as though I have the energy for just about anything, but every time I speak to the clinic I’m told I’m still in the recovery phase, so no to any kind of sustained physical exertion, and I’ve no idea how much longer this phase will go on.’ Or if I’ll ever come out of it, she didn’t add, knowing she’d sound self-pitying if she did, which was how she was feeling.
He nodded thoughtfully, clearly taking it all in, and trying to come up with a way around it. This was typical of him, she was learning; he felt compelled to fix things, and maybe if he thought hard enough he’d come up with a way to fix her.
She was about to remind him that she wasn’t his responsibility, and suggest that they change the subject, when he said, ‘Why don’t you tell me what you’d like to do?’
Her whole body seemed to open up like a flower at the first thought that came to mind. Apparently sensing it, he said quietly, ‘Yeah, that’s top of my list too.’ He held her eyes, letting the desire build itself to full force as it used their minds to bring their bodies together. She could almost feel him wrapping himself around her, pulling her to him, using his hands, his mouth, all of him to take her to the places she longed to go.
In the end, he said, gruffly, ‘So now we’ve got number one on our bucket lists established, what else is on yours?’
Wanting nothing more than to stay with number one, to make it real and never let go, she somehow made herself turn away and gazed out at the tiered, rock-strewn garden. Trying to put her thoughts in a different order was almost impossible, when making love with him was such a present and overpowering need.
In the end, she said, rashly, to break the mood, ‘I’d like to do a sky dive. Or climb Kilimanjaro. Hang-gliding looks fun. Have you ever done it?’
‘Not for a long time,’ he replied, ‘but aren’t you being a bit extreme?’
Her eyes sparkled mischievously. ‘Are you saying I’m not allowed to dream?’
He broke into a smile. ‘OK, if it’s dreams you want,’ he said, ‘let’s go for it. The world’s your oyster, anything’s possible, so apart from ravishing me, what would you really like to do, and where would you like to go?’
Getting tangled up in the ravishing again, she sighed as she looked at him, and laughed to see the way he was watching her. ‘I feel like none of my thoughts are private,’ she chided. ‘You see right through me.’
‘If that’s true then I’m going to guess that provided you could always spend your nights with me, you’d fill up your days working for world peace, and ending animal cruelty.’
Spend all her nights with him. The words dizzied her, as the idea of it carried her straight into the dreams she didn’t dare to have. ‘Actually, I hadn’t got to those points yet,’ she told him, shakily, ‘and the second one’s definitely yours. However, I have no problem supporting it, or with sharing my list.’ She swallowed, and tried to make herself think straight. ‘I’d also,’ she said, ‘like to raise a shedload of money to help Jim Lynskey’s organ-donation campaign …’
‘Have you heard from him?’
She shook her head. ‘I messaged again today, but still no word.’
‘Then we should up our efforts to find out where he is.’
‘I’m hoping it’s in hospital receiving a new heart.’
He nodded agreement. ‘Let’s tell ourselves that, until we find out otherwise,’ he advised. ‘So now, go on with your list.’
Picking up again, she said, ‘OK, I’d make the whole world understand the psychology of animals the way you do; I’d go waterskiing around Lake Como with my brother, who FaceTimed me from there this morning; I’d persuade you to take me to South Africa for a safari; I’d get to know as much about music as you do …’
He laughed.
‘What?’
‘I hardly know anything,’ he protested.
‘You know more than me, and you play the guitar, which I’ve yet to hear, by the way.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Michelle, of course. She says you and Sam are pretty passable when you’ve had a few, less so when you’re taking yourselves seriously.’
He raised a lofty eyebrow. ‘I’ll have you know I played Glastonbury once.’
She was immediately sceptical. ‘Yeah, OK,’ she responded, drawing out the words.
‘I swear it’s true. I was about nineteen, and we played the New Bands Tent. It’s called the John Peel Stage now. We didn’t get booed off, but we didn’t get signed up by a mega producer either, or any producer come to that, nor were we invited back again.’
Wishing that she could have seen it, she said, ‘If we’re still going to Michelle and Sam’s this evening, will you play? For me? Before you say no, it’s just gone to the top of my bucket list, so I don’t think a negative reply is an option.’
‘That’s blackmail,’ he protested.
‘Yep, so I win. You and Sam will play for us this evening and I promise to swoon.’
Looking as though he’d enjoy that, he said, ‘It’s a deal. Now, back to the rest of your bucket list. Are you sure you’ve mentioned everything?’
She tried to remember what she’d said. ‘I think so, for the moment. Can I add things later if I think they should be on it?’
‘You mean like finding your father?’
Her eyes widened in surprise at herself. ‘Of course that’s on the list too,’ she insisted. It was funny, she thought, how the search for her father didn’t seem so important now. Or, it did, but it definitely hadn’t featured at the top of her list the way it would have a week ago. However, her list was just a random jumble of dreams, most with no hope of ever being fulfilled, and with him sitting right there it was hard for her focus to be reliable.
Later that evening, after a delicious dinner prepared by Michelle, and a hectic bath night with the children that Vivi and Josh somehow directed, Josh and Sam sat down to play their guitars. Josh explained that they were performing some South African jazz and fusion numbers that he’d taught Sam soon after his return. Vivi had never heard any of the songs before, and she didn’t always understand the language, but the melodies, the unusual assonance and haunting riffs were so soulful and hypnotic
that she felt herself caught up in soothing wave after wave of musical sensation.
The English lyrics came from a Jonathan Butler classic, ‘Do You Love Me?’ The way Josh didn’t take his eyes from hers as he sang the words, as he conveyed the question and the meaning through the very tone of his voice, filled her with more feeling, more love and longing than she could possibly bear. It was as though Michelle and Sam were no longer there. She couldn’t even be sure at what point Sam put the track on a speaker and took Michelle off to bed, leaving her and Josh to dance in the moonlight. She only knew that the sensations of his arms around her, his legs hard against hers, his desire as palpable as her own, were making it feel as though his strong heart was somehow capable of beating for them both.
Vivienne was lying on the sofa in her sitting room.
She’d spent the last two days in hospital undergoing an exhaustive reassessment of her condition, following three ICD shocks in quick succession. In the end, to her overwhelming relief, they’d once again decided against implanting a VAD, but she’d been advised that if her heart continued to require such regular electrical stimulus to keep it going they’d be forced to take that next step. Meanwhile, they’d administered a two-day-long infusion of inotropes, and upped the oral medication she could take home with her. It was still too early to know how she was going to cope with their side effects, either mentally or physically. What she did know was that she felt so emotionally shattered by the reminder of her failing state that it was only the thought of Josh and the need to see him that had made her determined to come home.
He’d called and texted regularly since Michelle had told him she’d been taken to hospital, and she knew he’d have come right away if she’d asked him to. But it wouldn’t have been the right time to tell her mother about him, not when Gina was so fearful already, so Vivi had asked him to send her funny texts and emails to keep her up to date with the events of his day. He had, and with each message he’d sent he’d made her laugh and gasp and love him more and more.
Now he was here, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her and making her feel stronger just by being there.
‘Are you hurting?’ he asked, seeming to think that she might be.
As she almost smiled she wondered if her blue, dry lips were somehow rosier by now, less alarming than the last time she’d looked. ‘Not in the sense you’re meaning it,’ she replied.
Nothing had happened with her device since she’d come home, no shocks at all, only her doing her best to rescue herself from an encroaching despair and depression. It was hard to see the point of anything when there really wasn’t a point, unless it was to make him happy, but being in the state she was, how was she ever going to do that?
‘You should go,’ she whispered hoarsely.
He didn’t answer, simply crooked an eyebrow, as though saying he knew she didn’t mean that.
‘Josh, we – I – have to stop pretending,’ she made herself say. ‘People wait years for new hearts and I don’t have years …’
‘Are you asking me to give up on the time we do have?’ he asked, his tone telling her that he expected more of her.
Her eyes closed, not because she was tired, but because she needed to stop looking at him, it made her want him too much.
‘Tell me what you’re thinking,’ he said softly.
His words floated into her mind, curious and caring and seeming to loosen the innate sense of self-protection that would have prevented her old self from speaking the truth. She was different now. She understood that she needed to say it all while she still could, because in the next hour, the next day, the next month it would be too late, and she wanted him to know everything.
‘I’m thinking,’ she said, ‘that you make me feel happier and more loved than I’ve ever felt in my life, than I even knew it was possible to feel.’ A tear rolled onto her cheek and dropped onto the hand beneath her face. ‘You just make me happy,’ she added hoarsely.
‘This is you being happy?’ he teased.
She had to smile. There was more, so much more, and reaching for his hand she drew it to her heart. ‘This is the weakest part of me,’ she said softly, feeling the warmth of his palm through her shirt, ‘but that’s only the muscle. You make the rest of it the strongest part of me, and I don’t know what to do about it. I only know that this is the heart that loves you, that is glad you’ve come into my life in spite of the terrible timing, and even if a donor does come along I don’t want to lose any part of myself that loves you.’
She saw her words reach him, almost felt their impact as their joined hands absorbed the faint pulsing of her heart, the blood flowing into it carrying all her feelings with it. She took one breath and then another, afraid to let the moment go, afraid to stay with it.
Bringing her hand to his mouth he kissed it, and she suddenly needed the feel of him against her the way it had happened when they’d danced. But if she gave into it again, if she were to feel that same potency of desire, the build-up of adrenalin that had apparently been too much for her heart the last time …
‘We should take Ellie for a walk,’ she said, needing to distract herself.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked, frowning.
She nodded. It wasn’t her energy that was low as much as her spirits, but being with him was already helping, and she needed to get out.
Minutes later they were strolling hand in hand through the marram grass down to the beach, with Ellie racing on ahead in pursuit of her ball.
‘I had a message from Jim Lynskey today,’ she told him. ‘He’s been in hospital too, but it wasn’t for a transplant. He developed an infection around the driveline leading into his heart.’
‘How is he?’
‘Better, but still in hospital. He’s hoping to go home tomorrow.’
They walked on quietly, each with their own thoughts, hers mainly on the twenty-one-year-old whom she’d never met, and yet felt connected to in a way that made her want a new heart for him almost as much as for herself. It was as though he was just a few steps ahead of her, showing her what it was going to be like living with a VAD, the good days and the bad, and the desperate need to make people understand the importance of being a donor – not only for him, but for everyone whose lives could be so dramatically improved or even saved. That was his mission.
‘I have something to ask you,’ Josh said, breaking into her thoughts.
She tried to rein in her imagination, to keep her mind blank until she’d heard the question, but it wasn’t easy when there was so much she wanted to ask him too. In the end, when he didn’t go on, she told him, ‘You’re keeping me in suspense.’
Stopping, he turned to her and said, ‘Will you come to Deerwood at the weekend?’
It wasn’t what she’d expected, it hadn’t even crossed her mind; nevertheless, sensing how very much it meant to him, she found it lighting her up inside. ‘I’d love to,’ she said, and as he wrapped her in his arms, his lips pressed to her forehead, she felt elated and loved and afraid of how his mother and the rest of his family were going to react to her, for who in their right minds would ever wish someone in her condition onto someone they loved? They would want so much more for him, and the truth was, she did too.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SHELLEY
Present Day
Shelley was mucking out stalls in the barn, only half listening to a dozen or so sheep bleating a backing track to ‘Isn’t She Lovely’ on Radio Two as she worked. Her mind was more focused on a couple of newcomers in the residents’ block and Hanna’s suspicion that they were trying to push drugs. It was a recurring problem, unfortunately. However, Tom Bakerson, a retired DCI from Kesterly, was always willing to come and help out with one of his stern talkings-to when the need arose. They often did the trick, which made Shelley smile, for Tom’s stern talkings-to regularly came her way too, but she was less in awe of him than the youngsters. And fond as she was of him, which was actually very fond, she really didn’t feel inclined to
get married again. Their ‘friendship with benefits’ as Hanna and Zoe had drolly dubbed it, worked very well the way it was, thank you very much.
If she’d been paying more attention to what was going on around her she’d have registered the ovine accompaniment getting louder and less harmonious, but it wasn’t until Josh was in front of her that she picked up on the excitement. Their very own rock star had come to pay a visit, and the silly old girls were falling all over themselves to get noticed.
Smiling as he fed his fans with alfalfa leaves, she said, ‘So to what do we owe this pleasure?’ They didn’t usually see him in the barn on weekdays unless one of the animals was sick, and as far as she knew none was, at the moment.
Before he could answer Bessie the fat-bellied Gloucester Old Spot came snorting and barrelling towards him, four squealing piglets stumbling along after her, and he dutifully fussed the old sow about the ears, sending her into a frenzy of porcine pleasure.
Shelley was about to hand him a tin bowl of peelings for the pigs, when he scooped up one of the piglets to check his hind legs. They’d been splayed at birth, causing some concern, but the tape Josh had carefully wound around his hips certainly seemed to be helping.
‘You’re doing pretty well,’ he told the tiny creature, holding it nose to nose. ‘I think we can have that harness off in the next couple of days,’ and putting him down, he took the scraps from his mother to stifle Bossy Bessie’s demanding grunts for treats.