by Susan Lewis
‘It would be lovely to have it all resolved by the end of the month, or even the end of the year,’ she’d said to her brother the night before, ‘but unfortunately it’s just not like that. We have to take each day as it comes, and never forget to feel thankful that she’s not only still with us, but functioning as beautifully as she is.’
Harry had smiled fondly as he’d stood with Emma at the kitchen window, watching Lauren in the garden with his children, allowing little Phoebe, helped by Oliver, whizz her up and down the path in her wheelchair, while her brother Todd made a clown of himself with the crutches. ‘What news of Will?’ Harry asked quietly.
Grimacing, Emma said, ‘He emails occasionally to ask for updates on her progress, which I send him, but he hasn’t tried to see her again since the day he came to the centre.’
‘Does she ever talk about him?’
‘Not much, and her psychologist feels that it’s still too early to try and push it, in spite of the long letter of apology Will sent. She knows what he really thinks, because she heard him say it, so I don’t think the apology actually means anything. I’m sure she’d like to see the children though, but she’s in no hurry, and for now she seems happy enough with the little get-well cards they send from time to time, and the phone calls they make on Sundays.’
Harry and his family weren’t the only ones who’d driven down from London for the big event. Charlie was around somewhere, as was Alfie, who’d left Bristol a couple of months ago to join a firm of architects in Knightsbridge. Jerome, Oliver’s other close mate, was now in Durban working for a civil engineering firm, but that hadn’t stopped Oliver inviting him, and Emma had been deeply touched when Jerome, whom she’d never met, had sent her a message of good luck. A handful of Emma’s and Lauren’s old neighbours had hired a bus to bring them from Chiswick for the day, and about a dozen of Lauren’s schoolfriends, now anxiously awaiting their A level results, had done the same. Donna hadn’t come with them, and in spite of the relief that gave her, Emma couldn’t help feeling sad about it, and was sure that Lauren did too. However, she guessed that neither of them wanted the reminder of their lapse of judgement, as Phyllis liked to put it (or shame, as Emma was more inclined to label it, but only to herself). So it seemed their friendship was yet another casualty of the affair that should never have happened.
Spotting Lauren and Oliver over by a jazz band made up of local accountants, Emma was about to go and join them when she was waylaid by a magician who’d apparently lost his wand (exactly what she was supposed to do about that she had no idea, until he suddenly made it appear from behind her ear). Then a jewellery designer, whose zany collection was attracting a lot of custom, called her over, needing to report several thefts from her stall. Emma immediately radioed security to get them to post a guard next to the designer’s glittering exhibits, then went to help a dear old doddery self-published author to pick up the spiritual guidance booklets she was so proud of and had managed to spill from their display stand.
As she continued to multitask her way around the fair, feeling exhilarated by the sheer success and bedlam of the day, she found herself being stopped every few steps by someone wanting to offer either congratulations, or complaints, or to ask where a certain stall could be found, or even to try and make a reservation at the hotel.
After directing an elderly gentleman and his wife to the Portaloos, she looked around for Lauren again, but with so many people crowding the gardens now it was impossible to find her. There didn’t seem to be any sign of Phyllis either, or Russ, or Polly and Keith who’d now become Polly’s regular Saturday night date. She spotted Melissa hurrying towards the performance stage with Alfie, while Harry and Jane were over at the pony ride with Phoebe and Todd. Hamish Gallagher and his wife appeared to be engaged in a happy little chat with the Lord Mayor, and a highly acclaimed actress who lived near Bath was attracting plenty of bidders to her silent auction, which included all sorts of film and stage memorabilia, and a copy of her newly published autobiography. All proceeds were going to Headway – the actress’s own choice, since she had a brother who’d been helped a great deal by the charity after a shooting accident that had left him blind and partially paralysed. Emma had already put in a bid of forty pounds for the book, though when she was ever going to find time to read anything other than backgrounds on the three potential new clients who’d been in touch during the last couple of weeks asking her to organise an event for them, she had no idea.
‘I thought you might be in need of one of these,’ a voice behind her declared.
Turning round, she broke into a smile of delight as Russ handed her a full glass of fizzing champagne. ‘Congratulations,’ he said, clinking his own glass to hers. ‘I’m very impressed. To have accomplished all this at any time would be a magnificent feat, to have done it over these past couple of months is nothing short of super-human.’
‘Aha, that would be me,’ she told him teasingly as she took her first sip and felt it rush straight to her head. ‘I couldn’t have done it without my mother, of course. Or Oliver, or you.’
‘Me?’ he laughed in astonishment.
‘You’ve allowed Oliver to take this time,’ she reminded him. ‘Without your support he couldn’t have afforded to for one thing, and I daresay he’s needed a lot of emotional backup too, even before these last couple of weeks drove us to distraction.’
Russ shook his head in denial. ‘I told you, heart of stone, me. I’ve got no sympathy for him at all.’
She eyed him sceptically as she took another sip. ‘It’s good to see them together again, isn’t it?’
He nodded. ‘I have to admit, it is.’
In a quietly conspiratorial tone, Emma said, ‘Think yourself lucky that you weren’t around to hear the thunderous row that erupted when he told her she had to come in her wheelchair today.’
Russ gave a shudder. ‘Have you had time to look at the first draft of their new business plan yet?’ he asked.
‘No. It’s still in my inbox. Is it any good?’
‘Actually on the face of it ... I’ve got no idea. I’m going to need some more explanation, but if it does turn out to have legs, I shall get his mother to fund it. Considering everything, I think it’s the least she can do.’
Liking the idea, Emma clinked her glass to his this time, and looked around. ‘Do you know where they are?’ she asked, puzzled by Oliver and Lauren’s prolonged disappearance.
‘Actually, the last I saw of them they were heading off in the direction of the hotel with Charlie, whose broken heart, I’m delighted to say, seems to be staging a rapid recovery. Have you clocked all the attention he’s receiving from Lauren’s schoolfriends? Having said that, he appears to have grown tired of the adulation because he’s heading this way. Have you two actually been introduced yet?’
‘Very briefly, just after you arrived. Charlie,’ she said warmly, as he reached them. ‘It’s so lovely that you’re here. Oliver was afraid you wouldn’t make it.’
‘Are you kidding? There wasn’t a chance of me missing it,’ Charlie assured her. ‘Not that I’m especially into all this arty stuff, you understand, well I am, kind of, but something’s about to happen now that I swear I’d have flown halfway round the world to see, that is if I’d been halfway round the world, but I was actually just in London.’
Emma frowned in surprise. ‘Not the Beatnik Boys, surely,’ she said, guessing it must be about time for the ageing rockers to start wowing the crowds with their medley of sixties hits.
‘No, not the Beatnik Boys,’ he replied, giving a thumbs up to someone and tucking her arm through his. ‘If you’ll just come this way with me.’
Glancing over her shoulder as he led her away, she treated Russ to a baffled look and received nothing more than a merry salute with his champagne.
‘OK, she’s here,’ Charlie informed Phyllis as he brought Emma to a stop in front of the stage. ‘Where’s Oliver?’
‘I’m here,’ his brother replied, hurrying to j
oin them.
‘Stand there with Emma,’ Phyllis instructed him bossily, ‘and don’t let her move.’
‘Not an inch,’ Oliver assured her, slipping an arm round Emma’s shoulders.
Emma looked at him, but he only grinned and gave her a hug.
‘Where are Polly and Keith?’ Phyllis wanted to know. ‘Ah, there you are. Is everyone ready?’
‘Just about,’ Polly replied, checking her mobile.
‘What on earth’s going on?’ Emma demanded.
‘You’re about to find out,’ Polly informed her, as Oliver eased her to the centre of a clearing that the hotel staff were helping to create.
Spotting Russ coming to the front of the crowd Emma threw him another curious look, but he simply smiled and winked.
Up on the stage Hamish was tapping the microphone, sending little static booms around the gardens. When certain he could be heard, he said, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your attention.’
It took a few moments for a hush to fall like a softly billowing blanket, and once everyone was facing his way he said, ‘I’m delighted, indeed honoured, to announce that we have an unscheduled performance now by two very talented young ladies.’ He grinned at the murmur of expectation. ‘My friends, will you please give your warmest welcome to the very lovely Lauren and Melissa.’
Emma gave a gasp of surprise, and her hands flew to her mouth as Hamish went to help Lauren on to the stage. Once she was steady, he gave her his arm and walked her carefully to the front while Melissa, carrying her guitar, followed discreetly behind.
‘Thannk you,’ Lauren said softly into the mic, as the applause died down. ‘I’ve rrearranged the lyrics of this sonng a little bit, but it’s onne you all know.’ Then, looking straight at Emma, she said, ‘Mmum, this is for you.’
Emma was already losing it as Melissa strummed the first chords, then her heart simply overflowed as Lauren started to sing to the tune of ‘Thank You For The Days’ in as sweet and clear a voice as Emma had ever heard.
‘You gave me all your love,
An endless love, a precious love you gave me
You never let me go,
I won’t forget, I can’t forget, believe me.’
Emma was finding it hard not to sob.
‘Love that gave me back my life,
Love that showed me how to fight
You are my world,
The one I know is always for me
Now I can survive believe me.
Thank you for your love,
The endless love, precious love you gave me
You never let me go.
I won’t forget, I can’t forget, believe me.
There was a moment’s pause and she whispered, ‘I love you, Mum. Thank you.’
As the crowd broke into an emotional and delighted round of applause Lauren continued to look at her mother, tears sliding down to her own smile as Oliver moved swiftly to lift her from the stage. Emma never let their gaze drop as she came to wrap her beloved daughter tightly in her arms. She might never get the old Lauren back, but if it was possible she loved this one even more.
‘Thank you,’ Emma whispered, ‘thank you so much.’
Lauren was sobbing into her mother’s shoulder as Phyllis, Polly, everyone swept in to gather around them.
‘Wasn’t she beautiful?’ Phyllis wailed.
‘It was very special,’ Russ said, when his eyes met Emma’s.
‘She’s good,’ Charlie declared proudly.
‘I told you,’ Oliver responded.
‘I hardly know what to say,’ Emma told Lauren, cupping her exquisitely flushed face in her hands.
‘You donn’t have to say annything,’ Lauren told her. ‘I just wannted to doo this for you to say thannk you for staying with me, and believing in me.’
‘I’d never have done anything else,’ Emma whispered tenderly. ‘You’re my baby, you mean everything in the world to me.’
Lauren continued to smile tearily. Then, reaching for Oliver’s hand, she sat into the wheelchair that Alfie had manoeuvred in behind her. ‘Guess-guess what?’ she said, looking up at Emma. ‘That’s not all, because I’ve had the mmost brilliant idea.’
Emma looked intrigued.
‘Oll-ver and I, as one of our nnew projects, are going to start up the golllden angels again.’
Emma’s eyes shot to Russ. She couldn’t have felt more thrilled.
‘Wait,’ Lauren said, ‘there’s mmore.’
Unable to imagine what it could be, Emma smiled down at her. ‘Go on,’ she said curiously.
Bringing Oliver’s hand to her cheek, Lauren said, ‘I have decided that even though wwee can’t go to Ind-ia this year, we will definitely go next year.’
Emma’s eyebrows rose. ‘Oh, we will, will we?’ she responded, knowing she’d move heaven and earth to make it possible.
‘Yep. I’ve made up mmy mind. We’re going to India, and Oll-ver’s coming too.’
Emma nodded slowly as she got the scenario. ‘Well, there’s lovely for me,’ she commented drily.
Beside her Russ choked back a laugh.
Lauren looked up at him, and the way her eyes moved from him to her mother and back again was eloquent enough to make the rest of her plan crystal clear to everyone.
Willing the ground to open up and swallow her, Emma pretended not to understand. Checking his glass, Russ cleared his throat and said, ‘Looks like we’re in need of more champagne.’
Acknowledgements
Because so many very patient and generous people helped me with this book I have decided the best way to express my gratitude is in story order.
So my biggest and warmest thank yous go to: Carl Gadd and Pete Craig of the Avon and Somerset Police. Ian Kelcey of Kelcey & Hall; Matrons Trevor Brooks, Sarah McAuslan-Crine and Bernadette Greenan of the Bristol Royal Infirmary; Mr David Porter Consultant Neurosurgeon; Diana Cornish and Pearl Griffiths of the Neuro Rehabilitation Unit at Frenchay Hospital; Alison Woods, Dr Angus Graham, Dr Simon Gerhand and Michelle Jeffries of The Frenchay Brain Injury Rehabilitation Centre.
Additional thanks go to: Dr Helen Lewis, my wonderful GP; Carole Neilson, secretary to David Porter and Tina Long PA to Alison Woods.
The main subject tackled in this book is so complex that I must stress quite strongly that any mistakes you may have found will be totally mine.
I would also like to express my thanks to my editor, Susan Sandon, my agent Toby Eady, the world’s best publicist, Louise Page, to Georgina Hawtrey-Woore, Rob Waddington, Jenifer Doyle – in fact, everyone who has been involved in getting this book from me, to you, the reader.
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
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Copyright © Susan Lewis 2012
Susan Lewis has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
This book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
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First published in Great Britain in 2012 by Century
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