Soul Love

by Lynda Waterhouse

  I jumped out of bed and raced to the bathroom, where I was horribly sick.

  Sarah heard me and brought me a cup of tea in bed.

  ‘It’s probably nerves about performing at the festival,’ she said. ‘I always get nausea before a poetry reading.’

  I nodded. Sarah fiddled with her fingers as if her many rings were still there, before continuing, ‘I’d make you stay in bed, but if you’re up to it, I really need you to open the shop. With the festival starting in a couple of days the place gets really busy and I have a chance to make some real money. I need to pop over to the bank and sweet-talk them into a little loan. Do you mind?’

  I shook my head. Working in the shop would take my mind off things for a while.

  Gabe was waiting for me outside the house. He looked terrible, like he hadn’t slept. He rushed straight over to me.

  ‘Jenna, I’m really sorry. It wasn’t fair of me to blurt out something like that.’

  I touched his arm. He was trembling.

  ‘Gabe,’ I said. It was the only word I could say. Everything else would sound useless or hopeless.

  ‘Do you hate me, Jenna?’ His eyes shone with fear.

  I shook my head. ‘Maybe the world or a stupid virus, but not you.’

  He put a letter in my hand. His hands were cold.

  ‘Read this when you’re on your own. I have to go up to London to talk to some people in my support group.’

  ‘But it’s the rehearsal this evening,’ I said and then I did an impression of his voice, ‘Don’t forget you’re in a band. You can’t let Goats in a Spin down.’ I couldn’t bear the thought of him going away at that moment.

  ‘Can I go with you?’

  ‘No, Jenna, you can’t. I’ll try and get back in time … but I’ll definitely be back for the gig.’ He made as if he was going to kiss me and then he changed his mind when he saw me stiffen. His eyes shimmered with hurt. I looked down at my fingers, which were gripping his letter tightly.

  I felt my stomach wrench as I watched him walk away and wondered how on earth I was going to make it through the day.

  Fortunately, Julius was in the shop.

  ‘Thought I’d help out with the festival rush. I’ve dug out some old books on paganism and alternative religions. They always sell well this week.’

  That day I appreciated his bad jokes and I tried to share his wild enthusiasm about books. I even tuned the radio to Radio 4.

  ‘Things are looking up,’ he said and winked at me.

  All the while I was acutely aware of Gabe’s letter folded up in my jeans pocket. I was too afraid to read it, especially with other people around. I was terrified of how its contents would affect me. But every now and then I’d reach into my pocket and touch it.

  Charlie and Freddie popped in to check out the space for tonight’s rehearsal. I couldn’t bring myself to tell them that Gabe might not show up.

  As the morning wore on, the shop got busier and busier, which only made me feel lonelier. There was still no sign of Sarah. I was a bit relieved about that, because I might have been tempted to break my promise and talk to her. I touched the letter again to remind me to be strong and keep my promise to Gabe.

  At three o’clock Julius nipped out for ‘a spot of tiffin’. Ava brought me in a sandwich and a milky coffee to ‘keep my strength up’. She also kept an eye on the customers whilst I ate it. Until then I hadn’t realised how late it was or how hungry I’d become.

  I’m not sure whether it was a natural lull in trade or the fact that Ava’s stare had chased off the customers for a while, but the shop went back to its usual quiet self. Ava returned to the hairdresser’s to do a perm and I was left almost alone. There was one customer left in there with me.

  The only sensible thing that Sarah had done in the shop was rig up a large mirror so that you could see round some of the dusty corners in the shop. The lone customer was a tall girl with long straggly hair. There was something vaguely familiar about her. If I hadn’t been preoccupied by Gabe’s letter then I would have put some more effort into remembering where I’d seen her before.

  She spent ages in the tiny Health and Well-Being section. Eventually she crept up to the counter and asked, ‘Are those records for sale?’

  I looked up from my book and said, ‘I’m sorry, they’re not.’

  She nodded and gave me a satisfied smile as if I’d told her what she’d wanted to hear. Where had I seen her before? I coughed. She turned to go.

  ‘That book is for sale, though,’ I called after her, eyeing the bump in her jumper.

  The girl blushed and took the book out.

  ‘Er, sorry,’ she muttered.

  It was called The Perfect Pregnancy. I noticed that there was still a bump underneath her jumper that wasn’t from a book.

  ‘That’s on special offer – only fifty pence,’ I said with a smile, ignoring the ten pounds written on the price sticker. I figured this girl needed all the help she could get.

  She smiled at me, but her expression immediately turned into a frown as she walked out.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Sarah finally came dashing into Sarakai at around four o’clock. The shop was empty and she was full of apologies. Julius said he’d help her cash up so that I could go home and mentally prepare for the rehearsal that evening.

  The weird thing was that the minute I had the opportunity to read Gabe’s letter in private, I kept putting it off. First of all I had to make a great fuss over Tallulah and feed her. Then I had to make myself a cup of herbal tea to calm myself down.

  I decided to take a long hot bath and get changed.

  When all my excuses had run out I curled up on my bed and opened the envelope.

  Jenna,

  What can I say? I feel so bad for dumping my news on you like that. Please believe me when I say I never planned to blurt it out. I knew I would tell you eventually – part of me has wanted to tell you for a long time. In fact, I’m relieved that you know because now you can walk away. And I can start trying to forget about you.

  But I think you deserve to know more about me, so I am writing to tell you about those aspects of my life that I normally keep private.

  Seventeen years ago, I, Gabriel Hugh Lawrence Netherby, was born. My mother had run away from Dad following a stupid argument. As well as being beautiful, Mum was also stubborn and impulsive.

  She didn’t know it at the time, but she wasn’t alone.

  She ran away to stay with friends in Kenya. Months later, when she realised that she was pregnant, it was too late to travel home. She was one of those people who don’t show many signs that they’re expecting and she’d put the symptoms she did have down to being in a different country. During the pregnancy there were serious complications and she had a blood transfusion. The blood was contaminated and so we both contracted HIV. This was in the days before they started screening blood.

  For a few months after I was born Mum planned to return to England to make it up with Dad and present him with his son and heir.

  When she came back to London she went for some routine medical checks and found out that she was infected. Can’t begin to imagine how that must feel. Most parents blame themselves for all the little things that happen to their children. So Mum was devastated that I had the virus too. She felt that it was her fault.

  She didn’t make it up with Dad even though she still loved him. She divorced him to protect him and the Netherby name, and she didn’t tell him about my existence for a long time. She stayed in London.

  When I was nine I started asking loads of questions about why I was always going to hospital for blood tests and taking pills. She told me that I had some bad bugs living in my blood and that the tablets I was taking made them go to sleep. When the bugs woke up they hurt me.

  Slowly over the next few years I began to work things out in my head. Mum would get sick or she’d be too tired to get up for days. She had loads of pills to take.

  One day I asked her, ‘Am
I going to die?’

  Mum hugged me and said, ‘Gabriel, we’re all going to die some day.’

  A tingle went down my spine as I recalled the day of the summer fête. Gabe had said those same words to me when we were looking at Eveline Netherby’s portrait. I had joked about it, saying that I wasn’t going to die.

  I swallowed hard and continued reading.

  Her day arrived a couple of years later when I was eleven years old. My beautiful, brave mother. I miss her more than any words could ever express.

  Just before the funeral, Dad found out the reason why she hadn’t come back to him. It was hard for him at first because he felt so shut out. He had remarried and had a baby. As far as he knew Aurora was his only child. All that time and he had known nothing about me. When he did find out all about me, he did the honourable thing and took me in.

  At first it didn’t work out. I was too angry and sad about Mum and he couldn’t face up to my illness. So I went to stay with various relatives in London.

  Cleo and her mum were the closest thing I had to family at the time. Our mums had been best friends. Cleo has always looked out for me and loved me in her fierce way. I promised Mum that I would always look out for her.

  Dad and Isobel didn’t give up on me. They kept inviting me to stay and coming to see me. I got to know my baby sister Aurora – who could resist her for long?

  My health is such a big part of my life. I get so mad sometimes just thinking about it. Sometimes I feel bitter when I see kids with cancer getting loads of attention, sympathy and support (which, of course, they deserve), whereas I know that those same compassionate people would treat me like I’ve got the plague or something. In fact that’s what they used to call HIV – a plague. Many people see HIV as some kind of divine retribution. They think that people with the virus deserve to be sick. They despise you and are afraid of you. All they see when they look at you is an infection. They forget that you have feelings.

  At the moment I am well, because my combination therapy (the cocktail of pills that I have to take every day) is working. I’m happy I’ve met you, Jenna. Our time together every evening has meant a lot to me. I can relax and be myself when I’m with you, even if I’ve had to keep this dark secret.

  I’ve always shied away from relationships. But I could never regret the time we’ve spent together. Apart from Cleo, you are the only girl that I’ve let myself have feelings for. There’s something special about you, Jenna, and over these past few weeks I have fallen in love with you. I don’t expect anything in return from you.

  By the time you’ve got this letter I’ll be in London. I need to see some people in my support group. I want to spend some time talking things through and I need to be in a space where I feel safe and not judged or pitied.

  I’ll try not to miss the last rehearsal, but if I do, tell them that I will be there for the festival. We can talk there.

  I don’t know what you are thinking at the moment, but it’s probably for the best anyway if we don’t carry on the way we have been doing. I hope we can still be friends. Or that at least you won’t think too badly of me.

  All that I ask of you is that you don’t tell anyone. People can be narrow-minded and cruel, and if the news got out it would seriously hurt my family and me.

  Please don’t even keep this letter after you have finished reading it.

  Love, Gabriel

  ‘What’s that smell?’ Sarah called out as she came in through the front door.

  ‘Just a joss stick that went a bit out of control,’ I replied as Gabe’s words curled up and burned in a small, chipped china bowl.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I had to get out of the house. Sarah had come back from work and gone straight into the kitchen to experiment with recipes for the Soul Food wraps that she was going to sell at the festival. I had no direction in mind, I just kept on walking.

  I stumbled down the lane and across the field. I didn’t take in the scenery – I was too preoccupied with Gabe’s letter. When I did look up I saw Gabe everywhere. Leaning against the stone fence looking up at me and smiling or pacing around a tree trunk. To me he was as much a part of the Netherby landscape as the trees and grass.

  Why did this HIV virus have to be in Gabe in the first place? Why did it have to be his mum that received the contaminated blood transfusion? Could Gabe ever have children? I thought about all the portraits of his family stretching back generations. Would it all end with him?

  There was a chance that Gabe wouldn’t be around in a few years’ time and we would have wasted so much precious time.

  If he were ill with something else, I could bear it. The whole community could bear it. They’d hold fundraisers and bake him cakes, go on sponsored walks to raise money for research. Pop stars would sing at a benefit concert for him, but if they knew he had HIV, the community would gossip and be afraid and warn their children to keep away from him. They’d be embarrassed and awkward around him.

  It started to rain, but I didn’t care. Actually, I was pleased. It matched my mood. The world was a shitty place. Let it rain. I didn’t button up my jacket – instead I let the rain soak me.

  At first I thought there was something wrong with me. Something missing. I couldn’t even cry. But now I realise that crying was about letting go, and if I let go I would have to admit that I was crying for myself as well as for Gabe – and crying for all those things that we might never have and that everyone else took for granted.

  Anyway, what was the point of crying when no amount of tears would change the situation?

  The rain began to fall heavily, forcing me to take shelter under a tree. For a long while I stayed under the tree, letting the drips of rain fall on my face.

  But it was one of those days when it was sunny and rainy at the same time. The rays of sunlight lit up the drops of rain. A wood pigeon flew up into the tree and began rustling above my head, shaking more of the raindrops down on my head. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the rain stopped and the sun took over. The air smelled fresh and clean. Some birds began to sing. I noticed a small clump of delicate pale blue flowers close to my feet. It was as if they had been refreshed by the rain shower.

  I was totally aware of the beauty of this moment.

  For the first time since Gabe had told me his news, I began to think clearly.

  What was I doing? What good would pacing the countryside like an extra from a film version of Wuthering Heights do me or him?

  I had to be strong for Gabriel. He had trusted me and expected nothing of me in return other than that I keep his secret. He had prepared himself for rejection and given me a free pass out of the relationship. Hadn’t he told me in his letter that he was prepared to forget about me?

  Something shifted inside me. Why had I been stressing about Mia and Jackson? Like Gabe said, they didn’t care about me. All they cared about was causing trouble and then wheedling out of the consequences. I had acted so weak. So desperate for their friendship that I had simply accepted the situation as they dictated it.

  Now I had an even bigger secret to keep. Was I up to it? Could I keep it even from my mum? It would help to talk about Gabe with somebody who understood about HIV.

  My jacket began to steam as the heat from the sun mixed with the rain-drenched fabric. I turned and walked across the field. I had no idea what time it was, but I decided to head for the village and whatever company I could find there.

  I was marching up the high street when I saw her glaring out of the café window at me. A slanging match with Cleo was the last thing I needed right now so I dropped my head and walked on by.

  I had just made it a few paces past the café when she called my name.

  ‘Look, I’m in no mood for a …’ I began, and then I looked at her expression and stopped myself. She didn’t look angry.

  ‘Come round to the back. I need to talk to you.’ She pointed to a little alleyway at the side of the shop.

  Still a little wary of Cleo’s unpredictabili
ty, I followed her round the corner and up to a brightly painted door.

  Cleo pulled out a key. ‘Come inside for a bit. You’re soaked.’

  ‘Got caught in the rain,’ I replied lightly.

  Cleo’s flat was small but cosy. She threw me a towel and I began to rub at my hair.

  ‘I’ll make you some tea.’ She went into the tiny kitchen.

  ‘Won’t they miss you in the café?’

  ‘I’m on a break. Besides, we need to talk.’

  She returned moments later and placed two large mugs down on the table.

  The tea was too hot to drink so I blew on it to keep myself busy. I didn’t want to talk right now.

  Cleo settled herself on the sofa. ‘Gabe told me about the letter.’

  I looked up warily. Was this some kind of a test?

  I nodded.

  ‘I know everything about Gabe,’ she said.

  I nodded again. Why did I feel that she was out to trap me? Would I always feel this overwhelming fear of giving away his secret whenever Gabe came up in conversation?

  ‘For some crazy reason he has decided to trust you.’

  I stood up. ‘It’s time I went.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Jenna. If Gabriel has been honest with you, then I need to tell you something. Gabriel and I have this really close bond.’

  ‘He’s told me about it and so have you.’ I didn’t want her trying to make me jealous again.

  ‘I know for a fact that he wouldn’t tell you everything.’

  ‘I know that you went out with each other for a while.’ As I said it, I was struck by a horrible thought. What if Gabe had infected Cleo?

  ‘I am HIV-positive too.’

  It was like somebody had pulled the plug on my brain and I slumped to the floor.

  ‘How long have I been out?’ I asked when I came round. Cleo had put a pillow under my head and covered me with a blanket.

  She smiled. ‘I thought you’d be surprised, but I didn’t think you’d pass out on me.’

  I sat up. Cleo pulled another cushion off the sofa and sat down next to me.

  ‘Look, Jenna. I don’t like you that much, but if Gabe has chosen to put his trust in you then I will have to as well. But if you mess him about or hurt him in any way I’ll see that you pay for it. If it’s the last thing I ever do.’