I take a deep breath before I speak. ‘I had a heart transplant the night Callum died. I’ve got his heart and . . . I wanted to say thank you to your son for giving me my life back.’
65
We talk for over an hour. Callum’s dad wants to know everything, and so I describe as well as I can the visions and memories that have become such a big part of my life since my transplant. I tell him about going to the park and meeting Sam, and about hearing Callum’s voice at the hospital and on the tube train. Most importantly of all, I tell him that I’m sure Callum wanted to see him that night.
‘When his mum and I split up, I tried and tried but he just wouldn’t see me,’ he says. ‘Wouldn’t even talk on the phone. He hated me.’
‘No. He loved you,’ I say firmly.
‘Charley phoned me late that night. When I got to the hospital, he was already dead.’ He gives a long, deep sigh. ‘They let me see him. He was just lying there . . . peaceful. But I was too late . . .’ He looks up at me, haunted. ‘I was too late.’
‘I know Callum loved you, because that’s why he was coming to see you that night. He desperately wanted to make everything all right again between you both. He just never arrived.’
Callum’s dad hides his eyes behind his hand. It’s a few seconds before he speaks. ‘We knew he’d signed up for the donor scheme a couple of years ago, but we never thought . . . He was just a kid! But when the doctors talked to his mum and me about taking his heart to save someone else’s life, there was no way we were going to refuse. We both knew it was what Callum wanted. He was a good lad. The best.’
66
Callum’s dad takes me back to the tube station and we say goodbye. As I make my way down the escalator and back onto a train, I realise I’m not frightened any more. I’m thinking about Callum and his family. Before I know it, I’m stepping out of the tube station near to the park. Sam’s standing at the entrance waiting for me.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks anxiously, as he hurries over and hugs me. His arms feel warm and safe.
‘I’m fine. Really.’ And for the first time in two years, I actually mean it.
‘I got out at that next station and waited for ages . . . but you never came. What happened?’
We walk back through the park and sit on a bench at the far corner of the lake. It’s warm in the sunshine and it feels good to be sitting by the water. I start telling Sam everything that happened since we got separated.
‘So Callum really spoke to you?’ he asks quietly.
‘I don’t know. It was strange. It was as if I could hear his voice inside my head, and it calmed me down. And from that moment on everything felt different. I knew I didn’t need to be afraid any more.’
When I finish my story, I can see Sam is struggling to take it all in. He looks up and stares at me, his puzzled eyes searching my face. Then his expression changes; his eyes widen and he takes a sudden sharp in-breath.
‘What is it?’ I ask.
He hesitates, then slowly says, ‘Do you think all this could be like . . . well like . . . destiny or something?’
I look at him blankly. ‘What do you mean?’
He shakes his head. ‘Something happened years ago. I don’t know . . . Callum. Callum told me about this girl he’d seen. I can picture him now, going on about her. I remember him insisting there was something about her. She was special, he said. She was special. But he couldn’t explain what he meant and I didn’t understand at the time.’ He frowns slightly and his voice slows. ‘We were only about ten, and he’d been on his way home from some hockey match with his team. She’d nearly got run over by the minibus they were in.’
My heart slips a beat. ‘What did she look like?’ I ask, hardly daring to breathe.
‘Long, dark hair, a pale face and the saddest expression he’d ever seen.’
I meet Sam’s eyes, remembering the small, dark-haired girl I’d seen crying in the snow. A lump rises in my throat. Of course I knew who she was . . . who she is. I just hadn’t realised until now.
‘It was me,’ I tell him. ‘That little girl Callum saw was me.’
‘I knew it,’ Sam whispers.
‘I’d run off . . . my dad had left home a few weeks before. I missed him like crazy. It was like the end of my world.’
Sam takes a long, slow breath then exhales. ‘So you did meet Callum.’
I cast my mind back all those years. I remember standing in the snow, looking up at the minibus that almost killed me and seeing the face of a young boy staring out through the window, meeting my eyes, holding my gaze.
‘Yes. . . that was him.’ A shiver goes right through my body. ‘We did meet . . . before.’
Sam takes my hand and cradles it in his, and we sit side by side, by the edge of the lake, thinking about Callum.
Suddenly the water a few feet away begins to bubble. We stare into the lake as a huge fish surfaces and begins to gulp flies out of the air.
‘It’s him, it’s the old monster,’ says Sam with a small laugh.
We watch in silence for several minutes as the fish suns himself close to the water’s surface. His wet scales glisten in the sunshine like polished diamonds.
‘He’s beautiful.’ I whisper.
Then, without warning, there’s an elegant flip of a tail, a small delicate splash and he’s gone. The surface of the lake returns to its former glassy smoothness.
I turn back to Sam. ‘There’s something I have to do,’ I tell him. ‘Will you come with me?’
67
We make our way along Callum’s road to his house and knock on the door. His mum answers. She looks surprised to see us.
‘Mrs Hunter, can we come in for a moment?’ I ask quietly.
‘Of course,’ she replies.
We go inside and sit down around her kitchen table.
‘Is Charley home?’ I ask.
‘She’s upstairs . . .’
‘Would you call her?’
‘Yes . . . OK,’ Callum’s mum looks from Sam to me, with a bewildered expression on her face. ‘Charley!’
Callum’s sister appears. ‘Hiya . . . what you doing here? Sam, you’re too late if you want that CD back – I’ve lent it to my boyfriend,’ she says, flashing Sam a smile.
‘No, that’s cool,’ Sam replies, looking at me. ‘Becky needs to talk to you both.’
They turn to me, surprised.
It isn’t easy, but as gently as I can, I tell them about my transplant and how I know it was Callum’s heart that I received.
‘That is . . . amazing,’ says Charley with a dumbfounded look on her face. ‘Totally . . . amazing!’
‘He saved my life.’
I turn to Callum’s mum. She’s looking down and hasn’t said a single word since I began my story. Have I done the right thing in telling her, I suddenly wonder? She was devastated by Callum’s death. The last thing I want to do is upset her more.
‘Mrs Hunter . . . maybe I shouldn’t have told you all this – I’m really sorry.’
After a few seconds, she raises her head and looks straight at me with those sad, tired eyes. I feel terrible. What have I done?
Slowly she reaches out her hand. ‘Do you mind?’ she asks, her voice shaking slightly.
I shake my head. The palm of her hand gently touches my T-shirted chest. She closes her eyes and smiles as she feels the beating of her son’s heart.
68
That afternoon, when I get home, it’s as if a huge weight has been lifted off me. I spend some time in the garden with Danny, being goalie as he kicks his football around. The ball gets muddy and pretty soon there’s dirt on my hands, but as I rub them together, I realise it’s OK. It doesn’t matter. Danny’s surprisingly good and, when I tell him, his little face lights up.
‘Becky, how long is five kilometres?’ he asks as he scores yet another goal past me.
‘Not that far, Squirt. About here to Gran’s. Why?’
‘At Cubs, Akela’s doing a Charity Fun Run. We’ve go
t to get sponsors for her. She’s getting money for a new tent. Maybe two.’
Danny’s words give me an idea. Once inside, I get him to show me the form, check with Mum, then email the organiser to ask if I can take part.
Within a couple of hours, an email comes back, with a form for me to download and fill in. I’m just starting to write my name when Mum comes in and orders me up to bed.
‘No arguments, Becky,’ she says. ‘You’ve got school tomorrow.’
As if I needed reminding, I think, tucking the form into my bag. I check my phone, and there’s a text from Sam and one from Charley, telling me her mum wants me to know I’ll always be welcome at their place.
The following day, walking into my class is nerve-wracking. Everyone else has already been back a week since half-term. I exchange a brief glance with Leah as someone barges past me. It’s Shannon, and the look in her eyes tells me she’s out for my blood. I’m shaking, but I try to look calm as I head for my seat at the back of the room.
While Mr MacNamara is calling the register, I take the Fun Run form out of my bag and start to fill it in. Within seconds, Shannon snatches it away from me and is waving it in the air out of my reach.
‘Give that back!’ I hiss at her as she crumples the form into a ball and chucks it at Masher, hitting him on the back of the neck and causing him to yelp in surprise.
MacNamara looks up. ‘What is going on?’
‘Nothing, sir,’ says Shannon with an angelic smile on her face.
‘I’ll have that paper, then.’
Masher tosses my form towards Mr MacNamara who catches and uncreases it. He looks it over for a second then holds it out to me.
‘This is yours, I take it?’
‘Yes, sir.’ I take the form from him and I’m about to sit down but I stop. I’ve got more to say. A lot more.
‘I’m taking part in a Fun Run to raise money for the Cardiac Unit where I had my heart operation,’ I announce to the class, glancing at Shannon. She’s rolling her eyes. ‘I know some people don’t like the idea of transplants, but, without this new heart inside me, I’d be dead by now. I’m running in memory of my donor and of a friend who needed a new heart, but died before one became available. She was seventeen. Her name was Alice.’
I sit down, and there’s an awkward silence before MacNamara gets stuck into calling the last few names on the register, but I don’t care what people think any more.
After registration, as everyone’s heading off for first lesson, Leah stops by my desk.
‘Put me down for a fiver,’ she says.
I look up, surprised. ‘Sorry?’
‘I’ll sponsor you.’
‘Really?’
She pulls a face. ‘Well, if you don’t want me to —’
‘No please . . . that’s great, thanks.’
We smile at each other.
69
As soon as the morning’s lessons end, I dive into the girls’ changing room, get into my PE kit and head out to the field. I do a few warm-up exercises, then start running. It feels great. At one point, I think I glimpse the bandstand from the park in the distance – I smile and within moments, it fades. My visions no longer freak me, they’re just extra memories I’ve gained over the last few months.
I’m just about to set off round the track when I see someone coming towards me. It’s Leah. She’s wearing her PE kit too. She’s looking at me warily and doesn’t say anything for a moment. I bend down and re-tie my trainer lace, uncertain how to react.
‘I want to say sorry for telling Jodie about all that stuff you saw,’ she says suddenly. ‘I didn’t realise all the trouble it was going to start.’
Cautiously I glance up at her. She looks back at me anxiously and gives a small sigh. ‘I promised you I wouldn’t tell anyone. I’ve been so horrible to you, Becky. I’m really sorry. We . . . Jodie and Alesha and me . . . we all are,’ she adds.
I stand up and she hugs me. I don’t flinch or try to back away. I hug her back.
‘It’s OK.’
‘And I’ve so missed being friends.’
‘Me too,’ I say.
‘Mates?’ she asks.
I nod. ‘Mates.’
We start to jog around the track, at an easy pace. Within minutes, it feels just like old times, when we used to train together. I ask her how the ice-skating went in half-term.
‘It was fun, but I spent most of the time on my bum,’ she says, pulling a face. ‘I was really mean not to ask you.’
‘Never mind, you probably saved me a few hundred bruises.’
‘Have you heard the latest?’ she asks as we start our second circuit, increasing the pace a little.
‘Not yet, but you’re going to tell me, aren’t you?’ I say with a grin.
‘It’s OK, everyone knows. Masher’s dumped Shannon. He’s found true love, apparently . . .’
We burst into laughter at exactly the same moment.
‘Poor Shannon.’
‘Oh, she’s all right. She was the one who told everyone. She’s already asked Wesley out.’
‘So who’s Masher’s lucky girl?’ I ask.
‘He won’t say. But we’ll find out at my party on Saturday. You are coming, aren’t you?’ She smiles, then glances at me and asks, ‘Becky . . . that day I saw you on the tube – what was going on?’
I hesitate for a moment. Maybe I will tell her everything that happened one day, but for now I give her the edited version.
‘I was getting my life back.’ I tell her finally.
70
I look in my bedroom mirror. Everyone is going to be at this party, including Sam – Leah insisted I invite him. Pulling off a blue stripy top, I change into a cream one – an old favourite – but feel annoyed when I see that it too shows my scar.
There’s a tap on the door and Gran comes in. ‘Ooooh, you look lovely, Becky!’ she says, tactfully ignoring the jumble of clothes littering my bedroom floor.
‘Thanks, Gran,’ I say, noticing a strained look on her face. ‘You OK?’
She nods. ‘Auntie Vi’s convinced the milkman’s a Russian spy.’ She gives a resigned sigh. ‘Now, if Ruby was here, she’d soon talk sense into her.’
‘Why don’t you go and see her?’
‘To America?’ She thinks for a second, then shakes her head. ‘We’re far too old to be gallivanting about . . . unlike you, young lady. Joe asked me to tell you, if you want a lift, you’d better get a move on. He’s watching the football with Danny in an hour.’
‘Won’t be long,’ I tell her as she disappears downstairs.
I turn back to the mirror and stare at my reflection. I used to love this cream-coloured top, I think. I’m not vain at all but I know it suits me. I look at my scar, clearly visible above the pretty lace neckline, and suddenly think of Alice. What would she do?
Stuff it, I think. I pick up Leah’s present and head downstairs.
‘Ready to go!’ I call.
71
Joe drops me off outside the Community Hall.
‘See you later, Becky,’ he says. ‘Have a great time.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’ Shocked, I dart a glance at him. I really, really didn’t mean to call him that, it just slipped out. Embarrassed, I quickly scramble out of the car, still managing to catch sight of the grin spreading across his face. And then, for some reason, I catch myself smiling too. As he drives away, he gives me a wave and I wave back.
I walk nervously up the steps to the double doors. Inside, I can hear music blaring – Alesha’s boyfriend’s band is playing. I can see through the doors that the hall’s packed. Leah must have asked half the school. I hesitate for a split second then, realising I’m not petrified of germs any more, step inside.
Leah, Jodie and Alesha are down the far end of the hall. I thread my way through the crowd to where they’re standing, in front of the band.
‘Becky!’ calls Leah.
‘Happy birthday!’ I say, giving her a hug and handing her my present.
‘Thank you!’ she says.
‘So where’s this new boyfriend of yours?’ Jodie asks.
I scan the hall. I can’t see Sam anywhere. Masher dances up, his elbows flapping wildly. I groan inwardly.
‘Becky-Mouse!’ he yells over the noise of the music. I try to turn away, but he grabs my hand and starts swinging it.
‘Let’s dance, babe!’
‘No thanks, Masher —’
‘But Becky . . .’ he yells, just at the very moment the band finishes their song. The room falls silent. ‘. . . I’ve always fancied you!’ he shouts, completely oblivious to the fact that everyone is now staring at us.
I stare at him, dumbstruck, for a second, then manage to say crossly, ‘Well, putting a toad in my lunch bag was a pretty weird way of showing it!’
‘No, you’re my one true love!’ he adds in his usual full-on way.
‘That’s a shame,’ I hear a voice say quietly behind me.
I spin round to see Sam. He’s looking at me with his dark, soulful eyes and I feel my heart soar.
‘Masher. This is Sam . . .’
‘We’re together,’ Sam adds with a smile, taking my hand and leading me away.
‘Wow . . . where’s she been hiding him?’ I hear Jodie whisper loudly, before Alesha shushes her.
The band starts playing again and Sam holds me in his arms as we dance together. I’m nervous and exhilarated and happy, all rolled into one.
‘You look lovely,’ he whispers.
‘Apart from my scar . . .’ I can’t help saying.
He pulls me closer to him. ‘What scar?’ he says gently, then kisses me long and tenderly on the lips.
Waiting
I’m on a playing field filled with three thousand people, waiting for a starting gun to go off. I’m wearing my running vest and shorts, and the top of my scar can be seen but I don’t care. It’s my battle scar.
Heartbeat Away Page 13