All I Have Left of You

by Laura Daniels

  ‘Is there anything I can do to prevent it coming back?’ asked Michael.

  ‘We always advise maintaining a healthy diet, try to relax often, and if you get any new symptoms, report them at once.’

  Michael and I both nodded.

  ‘Okay,’ Michael said with a smile. ‘Will do. Is there anything else we should know?’

  The doctor smiled and shook his head. ‘No. You can start enjoying life again.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  16th December 2017

  ‘Oh, this feels good,’ I moaned as I sank into the sofa. ‘I can’t believe it’s finally here!’

  Michael beamed as he sat down next to me and handed me a glass of red wine. ‘We’re done, baby! No more work until 2018!’

  I smiled and shut my eyes. ‘I can’t believe this year is almost over. I’ll be glad to see the back of it, to be honest.’

  ‘Yeah, although The Last Jedi may have made up for the cancer,’ he joked.

  I scoffed and lightly slapped him. ‘That's not funny, Michael.’

  ‘If we don't laugh, we cry,' he said.

  I opened my eyes and turned to face him. He smiled down at me, and I couldn't help but smile back. His smile was still so infectious after all these years, and no matter what, he always seemed to manage a smile for me. ‘I really want to make next year a good one. The past couple of years have been really hard. I want to make next year our best one yet.’

  Michael took a sip of his wine. ‘And how do you suggest we do that, Mrs Mills?’

  ‘Well, I know we have the honeymoon booked for April, but why don’t we go travelling or something?’ I suggested, my tummy flipping with excitement as I pictured Michael and me taking off for a few months.

  Michael raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? How long would you want to go for?’

  I bit my lip. ‘I don’t know; we could start with a month or two and see how we feel from there.’

  ‘When did you start shitting money, sweetheart? My new job doesn’t pay as well, remember?’ After the cancer, Michael had decided he’d wanted a career change and had become a climbing instructor at an activity centre. He’d realised he hadn’t been happy in his job for a while, and his favourite hobby had suffered as a result of his long hours. He’d decided to merge work with pleasure, and he was adamant it was one of the best decisions he’d ever made.

  I laughed. ‘I’ve got some money saved in my ISA. My mum had that children’s bond that she’d forgotten about, remember?’ About a month ago, my mum and dad had remembered they’d started a bond for me when I was born. They’d completely forgotten about it until my mum had been sorting out her own bank accounts and came across that.

  ‘We could use that to pay off some of the mortgage?’ Michael suggested in an adult-like manner.

  ‘No,’ I insisted. ‘I want to go away with you. I want to explore the world with you.’

  ‘I thought you wanted to start a family?’ Michael countered.

  ‘Believe me, I do. But don’t you want one last year just the two of us? A year of us backpacking across Thailand or Europe, or America?’ I said wistfully.

  Michael leaned in close and kissed me softly on the lips. ‘You know what? I think I do.’

  I stared in the mirror, wondering what to do with my hair.

  I was already dressed in my favourite red dress, and I’d already done my makeup. But I couldn’t decide on up or down, curly or straight.

  We were going out tonight with both our families. We were having an early evening meal at a restaurant in Salford Quays and then we had tickets to see Elf at The Lowry. I was excited; what a perfect way to start the Christmas holidays. Michael and I had been discussing our travel plans last night while watching Christmas films and guzzling chocolates and wine, and I couldn’t wait to share our ideas with our families. It was about time we had something good to tell them.

  I pursed my lips as I pulled my hair into a ponytail. I squinted; it didn’t look right, so I huffed and took it out again. Deciding I should just straighten it for quickness, I headed to my dressing table and took the straighteners out of the upper drawer and plugged them in.

  Just then, my phone started to ring.

  I rushed to the bed where the sound was coming from and pulled it from beneath one of the pillows. It was Michael.

  ‘Hey, you,’ I said warmly.

  ‘Hello, sweetheart. Are you almost ready?’ he asked brightly.

  ‘Yep,’ I replied. ‘Just about to straighten my hair and then I’ll jump in an Uber. Have you finished work already?’

  He wasn’t meant to be working, but Scott had phoned in sick with man flu, so Michael had had to go into work on his first day off for Christmas. ‘Yeah, it was pretty quiet, so they let me go early. I’ve just spoken to Genevieve, and she finishes in just over half an hour so I’m going to meet her at the bar and then we’ll go together.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said, nodding. ‘Do you need me to bring you something to change into?’

  I heard him smile. ‘You read my mind, Mrs Mills.’

  ‘What do you want me to bring?’ I asked.

  My straighteners suddenly beeped, telling me they were ready.

  ‘Erm, you pick,’ replied Michael.

  ‘Cow onesie it is then,’ I joked.

  Michael laughed. ‘I’ll see you soon, sweetheart. Love you.’

  I grinned, and warmth spread across my belly. ‘Love you too.’

  ‘Shit, shit, shit!’ I muttered under my breath half an hour later. I’d just received a text informing me my Uber had arrived and I’d yet to choose a pair of shoes and pack my handbag. I fumbled around in the bottom of my wardrobe and pulled out the first pair of black heels I could find. I stepped into them as quickly as I could and went over on my ankle a couple of times as I rushed to the back of my door to grab a handbag from the hook.

  I grabbed a small black leather one and tossed my phone, purse, and keys inside before switching out the light and dashing out of our bedroom and out of the apartment.

  ‘Oh, crap!’ I cursed as I stepped outside of our apartment building. It was pouring down with rain; I hadn’t brought an umbrella, and my fur coat didn’t have a hood. I pulled the collar above my head and dashed into the waiting taxi, splashing in puddles as I went. ‘Sorry to have kept you waiting!’ I apologised to the driver as I strapped myself in the back.

  ‘No problem,’ the driver said with a smile. ‘Salford Quays, is it?’

  ‘Yes please,’ I said politely, pulling my phone out of my handbag.

  ‘I’m in the taxi now. Is Gen almost done? Xxxxx’, I typed to Michael.

  Seconds later my phone beeped a reply. ‘Yep. She’s just gone to change. See you there in about fifteen minutes. Xxxxx’

  I sent a smiley face back and put my phone away. I’d missed Michael today. He’d only been gone about nine hours, but I couldn’t wait to see him again. Christmas was my favourite time of year, and after everything we’d been through this year, I couldn’t wait to have a lovely festive season with my husband and our families. I saw it as the beginning of a new chapter in our lives. A happier one.

  About twenty minutes later the taxi pulled up outside an Italian restaurant in Salford Quays.

  ‘Thank you so much!’ I said to the driver as I unbuckled my seatbelt.

  ‘No problem, have a good night,’ he said cheerfully.

  ‘Thanks, you too!’ I replied brightly, as I opened the door and stepped out of the car and into the pouring rain.

  I hurried inside the restaurant and out of the rain, chastising myself for wearing a fur coat on such a rainy night. I couldn’t have looked out of the window, could I? It served me right for being late.

  I took off my wet coat and scanned the restaurant for Michael and our families.

  It was a new place, and we’d never eaten there before, but my parents had been on opening night, and they’d raved about it. The lighting was low, Italian music played lightly over the speakers, and a detailed map of Italy painted
the walls. The smells coming from the kitchen tantalised my taste buds, and my tummy suddenly rumbled. I couldn’t wait to have a look at the menu. Italian was one of my favourite cuisines, and this place had already impressed me. Even at six in the evening, it was heaving, and it took me a good few moments to spot my parents sat with Michael’s at a table in the corner near the back.

  ‘Awful out there, isn’t it?’ I said as I reached them.

  ‘Didn’t you bring a brolly, love?’ Mum said as she stood to hug me. ‘You’re soaking, love. You’ll catch your death. Here, do you want my throw?’ She picked up a black throw from the back of her chair.

  I shook my head. ‘No, it’s fine. Honestly,’ I said as I gave my dad a quick hug too. I looked around the restaurant towards the door. ‘Are Michael and Gen not here yet?’ I asked as I took a seat next to my mum.

  Lydia shook her head and checked her watch. ‘We spoke to her about twenty minutes ago. She was just changing. I bet there’s traffic. It’s never quiet in the city centre.’

  ‘Shall we order some drinks while we’re waiting?’ Dave suggested with a grin.

  Fifteen minutes later, we were still waiting for Gen and Michael to arrive and started to get a bit worried.

  ‘No answer?’ Mum asked.

  I shook my head and put my phone back in my bag. ‘Voicemail,’ I said, trying not to jump to conclusions. ‘It’s not like him not to answer his phone.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll be here soon, love,’ Lydia soothed. Her phone started to vibrate in her hand. ‘Oh!’ she jumped and looked at the screen. She showed it to me and nodded, smiling. ‘Hi, Gen. Where are you, love? Were you late leaving?’

  I breathed a sigh of relief and took a sip of my wine.

  ‘Gen, I can’t tell what you’re saying, love,’ Lydia said. Her smile had faded and her brow creased. She covered her other ear with her hand to block out the noise of the restaurant. ‘Slow down, sweetheart.’ A pause. ‘What’s happened?’

  My stomach tightened, and my pulse started to race. I could faintly hear Genevieve on the other line. She sounded frantic.

  I had another sip of wine and started to tap my foot.

  ‘Oh, Gen!’ Lydia exclaimed in shock, covering her mouth with her hand. She stood from the table and picked up her coat with her free hand. The rest of us shared worried glances, and my heart slammed into my chest. ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll be there soon. It’ll all be okay.’ She ended the call and looked at us all. Panic was evident in her brown eyes.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Dave pressed, getting to his feet and putting a comforting arm around his wife.

  ‘Something’s happened at the bar,’ Lydia said numbly. Her face was white like a sheet, and her hands were shaking as she tried to put on her coat.

  I stood and found my legs were like jelly. I put my hands on the table to stop myself from falling. ‘What happened?’ I probed. My voice quivered.

  Lydia swallowed before answering. ‘Michael’s been hurt, love. He’s been taken to hospital in an ambulance.’

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  17th December 2017

  We sat in the waiting room of the ER.

  We didn’t know what had happened yet. We were still waiting for someone to come and tell us. All we knew was that there’d been an altercation at the bar and that Michael had been hurt. We’d asked the nurse on reception if we could see him right away, but she’d said we couldn’t yet. When we’d asked why she’d said that the doctors were trying to revive him.

  Revive him?

  ‘Gen!’ Lydia cried.

  I looked up to see Michael’s sister running towards us.

  When I saw her up close, bile rose in my throat, and my heart started to break.

  She was crying her eyes out, and her clothes were covered in blood.

  Genevieve collapsed in the arms of her parents, sobbing uncontrollably. ‘I’m so sorry!’ I heard her cry against her dad’s shoulder.

  My dad grabbed my hand in his. I looked up at him, and his blue eyes were thick with tears and fear. I’d never seen my dad so worried. He was always the calm one, the one who kept the rest of us calm.

  ‘Gen, what happened?’ I managed to ask as I slowly got to my feet. Dad stood with me, his hand still squeezing mine. My voice was thick, and my insides felt like they were on fire.

  Genevieve looked up at me, still crying her eyes out. Mascara covered her cheeks, and her eyes were red and raw. ‘I’m so sorry, Elina.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ I demanded. My voice was loud and shaky. My legs felt like they might collapse from under me at any moment.

  Genevieve flinched. ‘Michael’s been attacked.’

  Tears blurred my eyes, and my breath quickened.

  I heard my mum whimper behind me, and Lydia and Dave started to cry for their son.

  ‘H-how?’ I demanded. My voice was quiet and high-pitched.

  ‘A man came into the bar, looking for me,’ sobbed Genevieve, wiping her runny nose on her sleeve. ‘He said he knew Jez and that he had a message to give me. The n-next thing I knew he was on me.’ Her words were broken and her breaths quick and uneven. Her whole body shook. ‘And then my brother- and then, Michael threw himself in between us! Protecting me!’

  ‘Oh my god!’ I cried. ‘Is he going to be okay?’

  Before anyone could answer, a doctor appeared before

  us.

  ‘Are you the family of Michael Mills?’ she asked in a sombre tone.

  I nodded slowly.

  ‘Yes, we’re his parents, and this is his wife,’ Lydia told her through sobs. The desperation was thick in her voice.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ the doctor said. ‘His injuries were too severe. There was nothing we could do.’

  *

  I’d said goodbye.

  I’d gone alone into the cold hospital room to say goodbye to my husband. I’d squeezed his hand, and for the first time, he hadn’t squeezed mine back. I’d begged him to come to back to me, demanded that he didn’t leave me here alone, and I’d pleaded for his lifeless body to fill with life and laughter once more. I’d asked him to wake up so we could go travelling as we’d planned only twenty-four hours earlier.

  I’d kissed his icy cold forehead, and I’d trailed my fingers through his soft, untidy hair.

  I’d laid my head against his chest and heard the stillness of his heart.

  I’d searched for the warm, familiar scent of my soulmate but found it had already faded, replaced by the clinical smell of the scratchy white sheet that covered him from his neck to his toes.

  I’d sat there silently, just being with him for the very last time, taking in every last thing about him, knowing that if I didn’t memorise every single one of his features now, I wouldn’t get another chance. I’d never see him again. I’d never again see that rich sparkle in his chocolate brown eyes. I’d never again hear him say my name. I’d never hear him laugh, I’d never feel the warmth of his kiss, the comfort of his embrace, the pleasure of his touch.

  There was nothing but silence in him now. Nothing but stillness.

  It destroyed me to see him like that, with a brutally swollen eye and a fat lip. Who would want to hurt my Michael? My kind, sweet Michael.

  I’d grown cold, freezing, and longed for the warmth he gave me. But he couldn’t keep me warm anymore. He couldn’t hold my hand through my grief. He couldn’t guide me to the sun. He couldn’t save me from the icy cold waves that smothered me, that choked me until I thought I might die myself.

  I don’t know how long I stayed there, lying with my dead husband, but eventually, the nurses came to tell me that they were very sorry, but they needed to take him to the mortuary.

  I’d pressed my lips to his one last time, tears spilling from my eyes, rolling down my cheeks, and whispered, ‘I love you.’

  And then I’d stood like a zombie on shaking legs, and, clutching the change-of-clothes I’d brought him in a Sainsbury’s bag, I’d left the room.

 
; I’d left a different person.

  I’d left an empty shell. I’d left hollow.

  I’d left with a shattered heart and a broken will to live.

  I’d left alone, without my husband.

  I’d left a widow.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The day before Christmas Eve 2017

  Time without Michael: 6 Days

  It was the day of my husband’s funeral.

  I woke early, at four. I hadn’t been sleeping since it happened. I’d been passing out from exhaustion and grief, only to wake an hour later and realise all over again that Michael wasn’t next to me. I’d reached out for him instinctively, only to find nothing but a cold space beside me. I’d open my eyes as if to see where he’d gone, and then I’d become confused that I wasn’t in our bed but back in the innocence of my childhood bedroom, surrounded by smothering loneliness and empty darkness.

  Two days after his death, the police had been to explain what had happened.

  Apparently, Genevieve’s ex-boyfriend, Jez, was behind it all. He was still in prison, but he was angry with Genevieve. He was still convinced that she had been the one to inform the authorities that he had been dealing hard drugs from his club. He’d made friends with a man called Jamie Smith in prison, a man with a violent temper, who was in for assault and had been released days earlier. Jamie Smith. It’s odd. When someone murders your husband, you expect them to have a name like Hans Gruber or something. You don’t expect them to have a normal, boring name.

  Jez wanted to exact revenge on Genevieve for what he thought she’d done, and a few days before Jamie Smith was released he’d offered to pay him ten thousand pounds to hurt Genevieve. When he’d attacked Genevieve, Michael had intervened and had managed to get his sister outside. But Smith had followed and turned his attention to Michael. A few punches were thrown, and because of the rain and the slippery pavements, one of Smith’s punches had caused Michael to lose his footing, and he’d fallen, smashing the back of his head on the curb. Smith had been arrested at the scene of the crime thanks to the armed police that had been patrolling the Christmas Markets.