by Dani Atkins
‘Your mummy has gone, Connor. But that doesn’t mean she will ever stop loving you. And even though she isn’t here with us any more, we still have each other. I’m here, son. I will always be here.’
In the distance the two-tone strains of a siren could finally be heard.
‘I love you, Connor,’ continued Alex. ‘And I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to show you how much recently. But I promise I’m going to do better from now on.’
‘I love you too, Daddy,’ Connor said, his eyes going one last time to the tumultuous sea. ‘To the moon and back.’
44
Alex
Five months later
‘Bride or groom?’
‘Erm… both?’ Alex replied with a confused shrug.
‘No problem,’ assured the usher in his thick Scottish accent. ‘Just sit wherever you like.’ He passed Alex a thick vellum order of service from the stack he was holding and turned to greet the next guests.
Two steps down the aisle a small tug on his sleeve brought Alex to a halt.
‘Do you have to tell them which one you like best? Because my favourite’s Molly.’
Alex did his best to supress his smile. Bending low, he whispered confidentially into Connor’s ear, ‘Me too.’ He ran a hand affectionately over Connor’s hair, absently noticing there was far less to ruffle these days. His mission to be a better parent had included quite a few things Connor probably wished had remained overlooked, including trips to the dentist and the barber.
‘Can we sit here?’ asked Connor, pointing to a pew at the very back of the church. It wouldn’t give them the best view of the ceremony, but Alex could see the attraction. Sunlight was streaming through an elaborate stained-glass window, bathing the pew in a psychedelic palette of greens and blues.
‘Wherever you like,’ he said.
Connor slid happily onto the seat, positioning himself beneath the arc of light. A woman Alex didn’t know turned around in her pew to watch his son’s childish delight. Her smile faltered slightly when she heard Connor observe, ‘It’s like the aurora borealis, isn’t it?’
Alex laughed softly, knowing how much Lisa would have enjoyed that comment and the look on the stranger’s face. Connor was still very much his mother’s son.
The church Mac and Molly had chosen was old and quintessentially English. Everything about it was perfect, from its flagstoned aisle, worn smooth from centuries of worshippers’ feet, to the garlands of flowers hanging in swags along the pews. Alex breathed in their scent and his senses tripped, spiralling him back in time to a different church, where the flowers hadn’t been gathered into garlands but woven into wreaths.
In his head he heard an echo of Todd voicing his concern. ‘Are you sure you’re up to it?’ his brother had asked, looking down at the silver-edged invitation Alex had received.
‘Sooner or later I’m going to have to set foot inside a church again,’ Alex had said.
‘Actually, I meant are you going to be okay seeing Molly getting married to someone else? I know you had… feelings for her.’
‘They weren’t real,’ Alex replied, shaking his head. ‘I see that now. I just got confused for a while, but Molly’s heart found its own way home. She and Mac make a great couple.’
There was a big fat ‘I told you so’ on his brother’s face. ‘Well, thank God you finally came to your senses and dropped all that Twilight Zone rubbish.’
Alex had nodded, knowing that was what it would take to stop Todd worrying about him. But that wasn’t how Alex really felt – or had done since the day of the storm.
He dreamt about it less now. But it was still there, buried deep in the darkest, most fearful corner of his mind. On the nights it came back, he would wake with a gasp, the bedsheets tangled around his thrashing legs. In the nightmares he was always running but never quite managed to get to the end of the jetty in time. He was forever too late to reach Connor’s side. You didn’t need to be a psychoanalyst to interpret the meaning of those dreams.
‘Oh look, there’s Barbara,’ Connor exclaimed, snapping Alex back to the present. His son climbed onto a hassock and began waving wildly at their friend, as though signalling a plane to land. It might not have been church-appropriate behaviour, but it was wonderfully normal for a seven-year-old boy. Alex took advantage of their location and offered up a silent prayer of thanks.
Barbara had snagged a pew near the altar, and even though she was some distance away, her fuchsia-pink ensemble dazzled in the shadowy church. She’d dressed for the occasion, and her hat was truly an Ascot-worthy creation of feathers and flowers, and quite likely to take out the eye of whoever was sitting beside her. Who was that sitting next to her, Alex wondered, as Barbara tapped her companion’s arm and directed his attention towards Alex and Connor.
His mouth dropped in an O of surprise as he recognised his neighbour. Graham Grafton gave a military-style salute in greeting, and ridiculously Alex saluted back – though his was more Boy Scout than army. Well, well, well, he thought, allowing himself a small grin.
The church was starting to fill up now, and over the heads of a great many strangers Alex spotted another face he recognised, although admittedly Jamie was almost unrecognisable today in a smart suit and tie. He waved at Connor and Alex and then returned to his task of setting up a tripod and what appeared to be a very professional digital camera. Was wedding photographer yet another of Jamie’s former professions? After what had happened on the jetty, Alex would never doubt him again.
As his gaze continued to travel along the rows of guests, Alex was unprepared for the stomach-lurching shock when Connor excitedly cried out, ‘Look, it’s Mummy.’
To his embarrassment, Alex looked first towards the doors of the church before realising that Connor was actually staring at the back page of the order of service. Feeling disorientated and more than a little foolish, he gently took the pamphlet from Connor’s fingers. The back page held two black and white photographs. The first was of an elderly man Alex didn’t recognise, and the second was a photograph Dee had taken of Lisa on their last family Christmas together. At the top of the page, in large, looping script, were the words: Loved ones who couldn’t be with us today. Beneath the first picture was the caption: Henry – father of the bride. Below the second it said: Lisa – the friend who brought us together.
It was a lovely touch, and Alex stared at the photograph for a very long time. This was always going to be an unusual wedding. Mac’s ‘best person’ was his old university friend Andi, who’d organised a stag do that had likely caused permanent liver damage in all who had attended. Rather than having traditional hymns for the ceremony, Molly and Mac had opted for jazz classics instead. It was a charming homage to Molly’s dad, and even though Alex hadn’t seen the front pew, he knew Molly had arranged for an order of service to be placed on the seat her dad would have occupied, along with his old reading glasses, ‘because he never could see a thing without them’.
Perhaps that’s how it should be, Alex thought. We should always include the people we’ve lost in our everyday lives. It was what he’d been trying to do for the last five months. He and Connor now took turns wearing Lisa’s old apron when cooking their dinner. They listened to her favourite music all the time, and Alex mentioned her as often as possible in their conversations. These days Connor shared his love of astronomy with his dad, and together they sat in the garden, looking through the lens of Lisa’s precious telescope. ‘That’s where Mummy is now,’ Connor had told him on more than one occasion. ‘She’s looking down on us from the stars.’ Alex agreed. And it made it a little easier when he finally took Connor to the place where Lisa lay.
‘Hi, Mummy. It’s me,’ Connor had whispered, his finger tracing the inscription on the carved marble headstone. Wife and Mummy.
‘Sorry it took me so long, babe,’ Alex had apologised when Connor had scampered off to pick wild daisies for her plot. ‘You know me – I don’t always get it right first time.’ He watched with a sm
ile as Connor ran back with an armful of what he suspected were colourful weeds. ‘But I’m doing better now – we both are. You can relax. I think I’ve got this.’
*
He’d come a long way since the day he’d shakily signed the organ-donation forms. He’d wasted so much time looking for answers in places they were never going to be found. And yet as hard as he’d looked, he’d never worked out the real reason why it was these four individuals who Lisa had saved. It was like a piece of abstract art. He’d been standing too close to it to make out what it was meant to be. It was only when he stepped back, when he looked at it from a distance, that he’d finally understood.
It had all been about the day of the storm, the day when they’d nearly lost Connor.
If Barbara had never received her kidney transplant, their paths would never have crossed. She wouldn’t have bought Connor the kitten, a kitten that so incensed their neighbour, he set up a surveillance device. A device that had been of vital assistance in the search for Connor.
If Mac hadn’t received Lisa’s corneas, he wouldn’t have been in the car that day, deciphering the sounds on a recording that no one else could make out. Nor would he have spotted Connor at the end of the jetty.
And if Lisa’s lungs had gone to someone else, then a young man with a tendency to exaggerate, but who occasionally told the truth, wouldn’t have been able to race along the jetty and jump into the sea to save Connor from drowning.
‘In a way, they all rescued him,’ Dee had said, overcome with emotion at how close they’d come to losing another member of their small family.
‘Great theory,’ Todd had countered, ‘but it’s flawed. What’s Molly’s role in all this? Who does she save?’
Alex said nothing, because in his heart he knew Dee was only partly right. It wasn’t the group who’d rescued his son, it was the woman whose death had allowed them to do so. The person who’d really saved Connor was Lisa, his mum.
*
The final strains of ‘Feeling Good’ faded away, and the church fell silent. All eyes were turned towards the closed vestibule doors, waiting for the moment when Molly would walk up the aisle with her mother, who’d be giving her daughter away.
‘Bloody hell, that was close,’ said an out-of-breath voice beside him.
Alex spun around, momentarily blinded by the light from the stained-glass window. Through a rainbow of colours, he saw a tall, blonde-haired, young woman standing at the end of their pew. She was beautiful, and backlit by the light from the window appeared almost ethereal, as though not quite of this world.
Something indefinable kicked within him.
‘That was scarily tight. I had to peg it all the way from the car park. Molly would have absolutely slayed me if I’d missed her wedding.’
‘You’re just in time,’ Alex whispered, and strangely it felt as though he wasn’t only talking about the ceremony.
‘Do you mind if I squeeze in here on the end?’ she asked, already doing so.
Truthfully, Alex didn’t mind. Not at all. He inched up and she slid in beside him.
A buzz of excitement filled the church and from the bustle of activity by the doors, Alex guessed that Molly was about to make her big entrance. Every head was turned towards the back of the church, but Alex found it impossible to look away from the woman beside him. Her smile was dazzling, and deep within him a tiny spark flickered into existence.
‘I should probably introduce myself,’ the woman said, as the song Molly had chosen to accompany her passage down the aisle began to play.
She held out a slim-fingered, tanned hand.
The doors swung open as Etta James’s unmistakable voice filled the church, singing the haunting opening lines of her greatest hit. ‘At last…’
‘I’m Kyra,’ the woman whispered.
‘Alex,’ he replied.
Acknowledgements
Writing acknowledgements is hard. First there’s the fear of leaving someone out. But even worse is knowing the time has come to say a final goodbye to the people who have been living in your head for a very long time.
So somewhat unusually I’m going to start by thanking Alex, Lisa, Connor, Molly, Mac, Barbara and Jamie for the hours we’ve shared; for the sleep you’ve made me lose; and for the tears and the laughter. I might not always have been sure where we were going on our journey, but I’m very pleased with where we ended up. I’m going to miss you.
This felt like an important year to write a book that featured organ donation. In May of 2020 the law on organ donation in England changed to an opt-out system in order to help save and improve more lives. Full details can be found on the NHS Blood and Transplant website. This has been my go-to reference for research and to read the many inspiring stories of both recipients and donor families. I would like to use this space to thank every single family who bravely gave their consent for a loved one’s organs to be donated. The donors and their families are true heroes.
2020 has been a very strange year for us all. When things seemed bleak and almost unbelievable, thank goodness there were books around to help us to escape the madness. I’m sure I am not alone in saying I’ve read more this year than ever before. And to its immense credit the publishing industry hasn’t skipped a beat. So I’d like to thank every single publishing house – not just mine – for keeping the books coming and giving us a virtual passport to escape.
Head of Zeus, my publishing home, have been of tremendous support and this book would not be what it is today without the invaluable guidance of my editor Laura Palmer and her incredible team. Thanks too to everyone in publicity, marketing, sales and a special thank you to Leah Jacobs-Gordon for designing what I believe is a truly gorgeous cover.
Kate Burke at Blake Friedmann has been my agent from the very beginning of my writing career and the idea of doing any of this without her is simply unthinkable. You’re stuck with me for a very long time, Kate.
I have made many wonderful friends in the publishing world – almost too many to name here – but there is a small group that no acknowledgements would be complete without. Thank you Kate Thompson, Fiona Ford, Sasha Wagstaff, and Faith Bleasdale. I have really missed our ‘office’ outings and although Zoom is great, I can’t wait until normal service is resumed.
There are so many authors I have missed seeing this year that when all of this is finally over I doubt any of us will have time to write books – we’ll be too busy catching up. Paige Toon, Kate Riordan, Holly Hepburn, Catherine Isaac, Heidi Swain, Milly Johnson, Alice Peterson, Kate Furnivall, Juliet Ashton, Penny Parkes, Anstey Harris, Iona Grey, Isabelle Broom, Gill Paul, I really hope to see you all again, very soon.
Thanks have to go to two of my best friends Hazel Davies and Debbie Keyworth for being the first readers of this book (and, fair warning, for all the others I’ve yet to write).
To all my friends, who have been with me on this journey, thank you for your love and support, with a special shout out to Sheila, Kim, Christine and Barb.
Thanks also goes to the mum of my good friend, Bev. Having read all my books, Bev confided that her mum would love it if I named a character in my next one after her. So here you go, Barbara, thank you for lending me your name. I hope you love your namesake in this book as much I do.
Thank you to everyone who has read one of my books and taken the time to leave a review or to message me to say how much you enjoyed it. You make me want to write the next one.
On a very personal note I would like to use this page to offer a special message of gratitude to our incredible NHS. Just weeks after completing this book I had a health emergency. Life felt very much as though it was imitating art to find myself blue-lighted to hospital and ending up in a cardiac unit. Thanks to the magnificent care I received I was soon back home again. And even though this incident might never find its way into any of my books, it will stay with me for a very long time. Thank you, NHS.
And lastly, to the three people who are my sun, stars and entire universe. Ralp
h, Kimberley and Luke… I couldn’t do any of this without you.
Dani Atkins
October 2020
About the Author
DANI ATKINS is an award-winning novelist. Her 2013 debut Fractured (published as Then and Always in North America) has been translated into sixteen languages and has sold more than half a million copies since first publication in the UK. Dani is the author of five other bestselling novels, one of which, This Love, won the Romantic Novel of the Year Award in 2018. Dani lives in a small village in Hertfordshire with her husband, one Siamese cat and a very soppy Border Collie.
Follow Dani on twitter @AtkinsDani.
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