by Susan Lewis
It was later in the evening, after they’d finished eating and were sprawled on the sofas and new floor cushions, that Vivi said to Michelle, ‘By the way, I got the results of my DNA ancestry search.’
Michelle’s eyes widened with interest.
Vivi grimaced. ‘Unfortunately it didn’t come up with a replacement for the pig,’ which was how she now referred to Charlie Bleasdale, if she had to refer to him at all, and she tried not to. ‘Not that I was expecting it, and thank God there was no mention of him – of course I wasn’t expecting that either.’
‘In fact,’ Josh added teasingly, ‘all it did come up with was a possible fourth cousin somewhere in Dublin, and the fact that she’s forty-nine per cent British, thirty-nine per cent Western European and twelve per cent other. It’s the twelve per cent other that’s intriguing me the most – I haven’t quite decided yet whether or not to be scared.’
As the others laughed, Vivi said, ‘I gave them so little to go on, it’s a miracle they came up with anything at all. Anyway, I’m far more interested in Josh’s ancestry these days, or I would be if I could get him to engage. Is he hiding some skeletons that you know of, Sam?’
Grinning, Sam said, ‘Don’t worry, mate, they’re safe with me.’
Josh was about to respond when Vivi’s phone rang again.
It was awful the way everyone’s hopes sharpened as she reached for it, and then how deflated they all seemed when she signalled that it still wasn’t the call they were waiting for. However, while she was confirming her yoga class with Josh’s sister Zoe at Deerwood the next morning an iMessage arrived from Jim Lynskey.
Having to find out immediately what it said, she quickly clicked on.
Hey, sorry I haven’t been in touch. I was cruising the fjords in Norway with my dad. Have you ever been? It’s something else. How are you? Jim.
As she passed the phone to Josh she was torn between an overwhelming relief that Jim was OK, not in hospital and not suffering any sort of decline, and despondency that he still hadn’t found a new heart.
‘Save9Lives,’ Vivienne read aloud from the screen.
‘Mm, it’s got a good ring,’ Josh responded approvingly. ‘I like the logo too.’
They were sitting in front of her laptop assessing the various visuals that Jim Lynskey had sent over for his proposed donor campaign. He’d promised them a couple of days ago, but Vivi knew how difficult it was to meet promises when your heart conspired against you, and apparently Jim’s was currently causing him a lot of pain. She only knew that because he’d admitted it after not being in touch for a couple of days, though the tone of his messages and eagerness for her and Josh to critique his ideas and hopefully support them would never have given him away.
‘Can one donor save nine lives?’ Josh asked curiously. ‘I thought it was eight.’
‘It depends how you look at it,’ Vivienne replied. ‘Yes, it is eight, but the extra one is meant to symbolize all the other lives that can be vastly improved, even transformed by one person’s organs. As many as fifty people can be helped in this way.’
He nodded understanding. ‘OK, so the main aim of the campaign isn’t only to persuade more people to sign up to the register, it’s to make them understand the importance of telling their families.’
‘So that a next of kin,’ Vivi continued, ‘doesn’t refuse to let organs go. That happens quite a lot, apparently.’
Josh clicked through to a page of donor statistics and after taking a while to study it, he said, ‘It doesn’t tell us here how many people die in the UK each year waiting for transplants, but it’s obviously a whole lot more than eight hundred and twenty-nine, which is apparently how many donors saved lives in the past twelve months.’
‘So less than a thousand,’ she said glumly, ‘and there are six and half thousand on the organ transplant waiting list.’
‘So what I’m asking myself,’ Josh continued, ‘is how many healthy organs are cremated or buried every day that could have been used to make a massive difference to someone’s life? I guess we’ll never know the answer to that.’ He clicked through to an NHS page titled Cardiothoracic Activity, wanting, for obvious reasons, to focus more closely on heart donation. ‘So,’ he said, after reading it through, ‘there have been one hundred and ninety-eight heart transplants this past year, which is more than I’d expected, but only forty of them were non-urgent, which is the category you currently fall into.’
After working it out, she said, ‘That means I have a twenty per cent chance of receiving a new heart, the same as Jim, because he’s not on the super-urgent list either.’ The prospects were so gloomy that she might have regretted getting into it, were Jim’s proactive efforts to find himself a heart not so energizing and admirable. She wanted to be on his team, to share his optimism and altruism by doing what she could for everyone on the transplant waiting list, which would be so much shorter if more people were willing to sign up to it.
‘Ah, here he is,’ Josh said, as the FaceTime ringer sounded.
As Jim Lynskey’s young, handsome face came onto the screen Vivi felt the tragedy of his situation mix with a flood of affection. He reminded her a lot of her brother with his short dark hair, unshaven chin and engaging smile. He had the sassy look of a young musician or a sportsman, the kind the girls went for in numbers. There was nothing about him at all to suggest that he was entirely dependent on a VAD to stay alive.
‘Hey,’ he said, chirpily. ‘How are you?’
Smiling, Vivi said, ‘I’m OK. It’s good to see you. This is Josh.’
Raising a hand, Josh said, ‘We were glad to learn you were on holiday when we didn’t hear from you.’
‘Yeah, right. It was cool. You should go sometime, if you’ve never been.’
Thinking of how much they’d enjoy it, Vivi said, ‘We’ve been looking at your Save9Lives campaign and we like the logo a lot. And the wording. We’re wondering if there’s a website yet?’
Jim grimaced. ‘I’m trying to get funding for it,’ he replied. ‘It’s difficult to get anyone to sponsor it when it’s not a charity; people want to be sure of where their money’s going, and if they can get a tax break on it, all the better.’
Understanding that, she said, ‘How much are you looking for?’
He shrugged and glanced away from the camera, apparently uncomfortable with mentioning a figure. ‘I’ve got a friend who’s a really good designer,’ he said. ‘He wouldn’t cost much. He’s a student, like me, so he’s trying to earn some money.’
‘There are many ways of raising funds,’ Josh told him, ‘but what we need to sort out first is the content you want to include in the website. I’ve seen the videos you sent Vivi of you talking about your condition, what it’s like to be on the transplant list, and why it’s important to get the message out about organ donation. You’re good on camera, you’re also young, good-looking and articulate, so I think you should be the primary contributor, but we also need footage of more people on the waiting list.’
Jim nodded agreement. ‘There’s quite a bit of education needed too,’ he continued. ‘Can you believe some people refuse to go on the list because they think that if doctors or paramedics know they’re on it they won’t try to save them?’
‘Oh God,’ Vivi groaned, knowing the ignorance existed but having no clear idea yet how to tackle it.
‘A lot of people cherry-pick,’ Jim went on. ‘They’ll sign up to donate a kidney and maybe a lung, or a heart, which is fine, they have the right to do that, but the reasons they hold back on other organs aren’t always sound.’
‘Go on,’ Josh prompted.
‘They say things like, “No one would want my liver if they knew how much I drank”, when they’ve got no idea what kind of condition their liver is in. It might be perfectly OK, but they’re just not giving it a chance. Then there are those who say, “I don’t want anyone having my eyes, what if I can still see through them? It would be so weird looking in the mirror and seeing someone else�
�s face.”’
That might have been funny if it weren’t so ludicrous.
‘What other kinds of objections are there?’ Josh asked.
‘Religious, but that’s because a lot of people don’t understand what their religion actually says about donation. In fact, no religion is actively against it that I can find. Receiving someone else’s organs is a different story, but giving up your own isn’t a problem.’
‘So it’s basically a lack of information and understanding that we’re up against,’ Josh said.
Jim nodded. ‘There was a girl in the news today, did you see it? She was thirteen and she died of a brain aneurysm. They’ve just worked out that she saved a total of eight lives with her organs.’
Thinking of the girl’s parents and how brave and selfless they’d been at what must have been the worst time of their lives, Vivi said, ‘It would be good to have an interview with her family if they’ll agree to it. Can you send me a link to the news item?’
‘I’ve already been in touch,’ Jim told her. ‘I’m waiting to hear back, but I’ll send the link anyway and I’ll put you in touch with Sarah, who’s also waiting for a heart. I know she’ll agree to be interviewed.’
Impressed by how focused he was, Vivi said, ‘That’s great. Meantime, we’ll carry out some more research at our end, and put it together with yours to start shaping up the website content.’ Even if the campaign didn’t end up helping her and Jim, it could make all the difference to others, and why wouldn’t they want to do that? ‘Before you go,’ she said, her tone taking on a more affectionate note, ‘how’s the pain?’
Looking royally fed up, he shrugged. ‘I’m on codeine,’ he replied flatly.
A nut to crack a sledgehammer? ‘Do you know exactly what’s causing it?’ she asked.
He shook his head and though he didn’t say sometimes knowing is too hard, she knew it was what he was thinking.
Feeling worried and a little dispirited as they rang off, she turned to Josh and rested her head on his shoulder.
‘It’s important that we do this,’ he said, putting an arm around her. ‘I realize it won’t necessarily give us what we want for you, but the alternative is to do nothing and that’s not going to work for either of us.’
Knowing that was true, she kissed him and got up to answer the entryphone. After buzzing her mother in she went to put on the kettle. There was a lot going round in her mind, mostly about Jim, and how she felt as though they were being sucked towards a cliff edge. He was ahead of her, getting closer and closer, but she was clinging tightly to the rope, trying to haul him back before he went over. If he did, he’d take her with him, not right away, but soon after.
Or maybe he wouldn’t go over, a new heart would be found at the last minute, and then she’d be on the cliff edge alone.
Gina had already visited the flat several times by now, so she was perfectly familiar with it, and was always happy to see Josh, even though Vivi knew that she worried about the obvious strain on the relationship. Vivi worried about it too, especially when she considered how selfish she was being. She couldn’t give him what he deserved, what she knew he wanted more than anything, the chance of a long life together, and children.
‘Are you OK?’ Gina asked, taking the tea Vivi was passing her. ‘You seem … distracted.’
Vivi put on a smile. ‘I’m fine,’ she assured her mother. ‘How are you?’
Gina’s eyebrows rose. ‘We’ve already been through that,’ she told her, ‘we’ve moved on, but you haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?’
Vivi glanced at Josh, and seeing amusement in his eyes she relaxed a little. Apparently it hadn’t been anything serious. ‘Sorry,’ she said to her mother, ‘what were you saying?’
Gina waved a dismissive hand. ‘Oh, nothing important,’ she replied airily, ‘I was just asking how you’d feel if Gil turned the main sitting room into his office.’
It took a moment for understanding to dawn; when it did Vivi’s eyes flew open with delight. ‘Gil’s moving back to Kesterly?’ she cried, overcome with happiness for her mother. ‘That’s fantastic. You two should never have split up in the first place.’
‘No, probably not,’ Gina admitted, ‘but I’m handling things a bit differently now.’
Going to hug her, Vivi looked at Josh and wondered if he was feeling suddenly trapped by this new turn of events. It wasn’t what his expression was saying; nevertheless, she should probably assure him later that it didn’t mean she couldn’t go back to Bay Lane, it just meant she wouldn’t have her own sitting room any more.
‘Are you crazy?’ he laughed, when she got round to trying out the reassurance. ‘As far as I’m concerned Gil moving in with your mother is the best news I’ve had since you agreed to move in here. I don’t want you going anywhere without me, ever – apart from to yoga and meditation and maybe the bathroom once in a while.’
Biting on her smile, she walked into his arms and felt the power of him enfolding her the way it always did.
‘Where is all this insecurity suddenly coming from?’ he asked gently. ‘You don’t really doubt me, surely?’
She shook her head, no she didn’t, and she knew the clouds would soon pass to make way for more sunshine; it was just that the really dark times were lurking, and there was simply no knowing when they would come to stay.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
VIVIENNE
Present day
Days soon began turning into weeks, and though Vivi suffered several challenging spells, both mentally and physically, she had periods when she felt almost as normal and strong as she had before her life in London had come to an end. During those times it was hard not to hope that the prognosis for her life expectancy had been wrong, that she was going to defy them all and stage a miraculous recovery. In more difficult and pragmatic moments she understood that her perceived improvement had far more to do with the drugs she was taking to help stabilize her wait for a new heart.
Her wait for someone to die.
She found it so hard to get her head around that, in spite of how often Josh and her mother – everyone she loved – reminded her that no one was giving up their lives willingly so she could live. They were on their own journey, and what happened to them was as random, or preordained, as what was happening to her.
Only to herself did she ever admit how much loving so wholeheartedly unnerved her, making her fear there would be a price to pay for the physical exertion, never mind the hope that came with it. But apart from the unavoidable side effects of the drugs – numbing fatigue, violent headaches and nausea – she hadn’t yet been called to account. Nor had she been able to tell Josh that perhaps they shouldn’t make love so often. She knew if she did he’d stop right away, and that wasn’t what she wanted at all.
She spent most days accompanying him on his rounds and emergency call-outs and soon became so involved with the animals, and with the hectic social project that was Deerwood, that she could hardly remember the life she’d had before. She felt no yearning for it – if she thought about it at all it felt strangely distant, even vague, as though it had happened to somebody else. What mattered much more to her now was being able to lie down in the hay with an elderly ram, smoothing his tired face as Josh quietly sent him on his way. Or she’d dab tears from the eyes of distressed cows whose calves had been taken to market – she’d had no idea until now that cows could cry, much less that they could pine for their young. She’d even lent a hand, up to the elbow, to bring a tiny donkey foal into the world. A sight she’d never forget was Josh’s skilful extraction of a rotten tooth from the mouth of a fully-grown lioness at Kesterly Zoo. As large as his hands were, they’d appeared almost fragile between the vast, powerful jaws of the heavily anaesthetized beast.
There was so much to do, and to learn about his world, not only for her, but for the junior vet, Aaron, whom Josh took on to help with the load.
When they weren’t at Deerwood or visiting the many farms, stables, sanct
uaries and kennels that fell into his area, they were usually at home relaxing, or working on Save9Lives. They’d gathered a lot of information by now, and since Vivi had already received assurances from the GaLs that they were happy to fund the website – and would give even more if it was needed – they’d soon be ready to engage a professional designer. It wasn’t that they were cutting out Jim’s student friend, it was simply that he’d decided the project was going to be too big for him now that his final year was underway.
Jim himself, with all the courage and optimism they admired so much, was working hard to gain awareness for his campaign, and listening to him, talking to him over FaceTime, Vivi could almost believe there was nothing wrong with him. Outwardly there was no sign of the pump that kept his heart going, for he wore the cumbersome batteries under his shirt, and the bulk of them was always out of frame.
‘Are you still in pain?’ she asked him one day.
He nodded almost wryly. ‘I’m getting used to it,’ he told her. ‘I won’t let it hold me back.’
Moved by his determination, she said, ‘What sort of drugs are you on?’
He named them all, and the list was so long that they both ended up laughing. What else could they do? ‘Do you ever pray?’ she ventured to ask.
His eyes drifted as he said, ‘I used to, but I’ve kind of lost my faith since the wait …’ He shrugged, as if to say the wait had been so long.
Having discovered from reading other people’s stories that many experienced a move closer to God as the prospect of death became an encroaching reality, the doubt in his beliefs interested her more than it surprised her. Did he want to talk about it, she wondered. Had he believed before?
‘Yes, I did,’ he replied when she asked. ‘Or I thought I did. This kind of changes things, or it has for me. How about you?’