The Pianist’s Wife

Chapter Forty-One

The next day, Amira walked down a familiar corridor, tapping gently on the door of room 104, before walking in. She nodded to the day nurse, who knew her well now, and placed her bag and coat on the chair near the door. Amira made her way over to the bed and sat down, carefully, taking Fred’s frail, almost translucent hand and folding it in hers. It was almost impossible to believe that the two age-spotted hands intertwined belonged to her and the man who’d come to mean everything to her.

Fred had been there for weeks now, his body slowly failing him, his eyes barely fluttering open anymore. But every day without question, Amira had stayed with him, leaving only in the early morning to go home and shower, returning to read the paper to keep him updated on the news, playing his favourite songs, and opening the windows wide to fill the room with fresh air and the lingering scent of roses from the sprawling garden outside. She had no way of knowing if Fred even knew she was there, but it was the least she could do. It made her feel as if they were still connected, and that was what mattered. When Esther visited, which was often, Amira still didn’t leave, preferring to sit quietly with her daughter and enjoy every moment with her.

‘I had a letter from Gisele today,’ Amira told Fred. ‘Would you believe that she’s a great- grandmother now? I can’t stop thinking of her, surrounded by all those grandchildren.’ She sighed. ‘I wrote straight back and told her that I think she should be eligible for the Grandmother’s Cross award. I can just imagine how that will make her laugh.’

She smiled to herself, imagining what it would be like to have Gisele there with them. What a reunion it would be to have the three of them together again. There had been a time when they’d made sure to see each other every year, never letting more than twelve months go by without spending time together, but age had put an end to that.

‘I told her in my letter that I’d finally told our story,’ Amira said. ‘That someone in the world, other than us, finally knows the truth about what happened back then, what it was like for us. And as I was writing, I wondered if anyone today would be able to live with the kind of pain we endured. What we lived through.’ She sighed. ‘It’s almost impossible to believe now, isn’t it?’

Tears began to fall down Amira’s cheeks then, and she reached for Fred’s hand again, holding it tight.

‘Thank you, Fred, for always being there for me. You’re the best friend I could have ever wished for.’

And he was. Fred was the only person in her life who could possibly understand her irrational fear of German shepherds, or the way she became physically ill when she saw smoke belching from a concrete chimney. He was the only person who could soothe her with a single word or the touch of his hand on hers.

Amira sat there, regaining her composure. The nurse walked back into the room as a long beep sounded out, which suddenly told her that after so long trying to believe it wouldn’t happen, Fred had left her. With his hand in Amira’s, while she’d whispered to him, he’d finally let go, as if they were the words he’d been waiting to hear. As if he’d somehow been holding on until their story was told, and until she was at peace with it. She only wished that their daughter had been by his side as he passed, too, but Amira would stay sitting there until she arrived.

Goodbye, Fred. Until we meet again.