Chapter 10
TEN
LAUREL
It was a Wednesday and my day off work. All week, the sun had been taunting me through the hospital windows as I hurried through the overheated wards and corridors; when I arrived in the mornings, it was still cold enough for my hands to feel frozen on to the handlebars of my bike, and when I left in the evenings it was already dark.
Now, though, it was almost midday and gloriously spring-like.
Daffodils were showing their faces in the grass like a host of miniature suns, the sky was a clear, radiant blue and there was barely a breath of wind.
I chained my bike to a stand, squeezing it in between a crowd of others and hoping it would still be there when I returned, and hefted my bulging backpack higher on my shoulders.
I found a spot in the park near the lake, half under a tree and half in sunshine, and spread out the blanket I’d brought, unpacking my posh food haul on to it, one eye on my phone.
There in 5, Gray texted. Got held up in a meeting.
I smiled. It had been over two weeks since we’d seen each other in the coffee shop. That, by necessity, had been rushed and uncomfortable; this would be special.
It needed to be special.
When I saw him coming towards me along the path in the sunshine, I raised my hand and smiled, then jumped to my feet to greet him. I tried not to let my face betray my feelings – or at least not all of them, only the surge of happiness I felt when I took him in my arms.
He’d got thinner. Even thinner than I’d expected.
His cheeks were hollow. There was a scab on his jaw where he must have cut himself shaving, his razor encountering a bone that had been cushioned before.
Even the way he walked was different, his usual athletic stride slower, not quite a shuffle but not far off.
‘You look beautiful,’ he said.
I kissed him. ‘So do you. Hungry?’
‘I’m trying to be.’ He sat down. ‘Looks like you raided Fortnum’s.’
‘Only the best for you. There’s bread, paté, cheese, fruit, chocolates – the lot.’
‘But no booze.’ He shook his head in mock disapproval.
‘You’re working, remember?’
‘For now. Until the end of the week. But I can’t really stomach it now, if I’m honest.’
‘So have some sparkling water. It’s kiwi flavoured – for all I know it’ll taste like wee.’
‘Nothing like a drop of wee on a spring afternoon.’
We laughed and I felt my mood lighten. I opened the packages of food, and we ate and drank.
Or rather, Gray tried to eat. I watched as he took a bite of bread and butter then put the rest down, bit into a slice of mango and grimaced.
I felt a surge of anxiety – almost panic – at how he was deteriorating, dwindling.
His appetite for food was leaving him, and eventually his appetite for life would too.
I’d been hungry myself when I sat down, but I had to force myself to look enthusiastic as I ate.
We talked about normal things: the long bike ride I’d done on Sunday, in spite of the driving rain. The mouse Gray’s family cat had caught and left dismembered on the kitchen floor. The alarming developments in world politics.
When it was clear neither of us could eat any more, I wrapped the food up and tucked everything away in my backpack, and he lay down on the blanket, resting his head on my thighs.
I stroked his head the way he liked, smoothing the hair back from his temples, my fingertips exploring the familiar curves and planes of his skull.
‘Gray?’ I said gently.
‘Speaking.’
‘What do you think would have happened to us in the end? If this hadn’t?’
‘Us?’ He smiled, his eyes closed against the sun. ‘We’d have got married and lived happily ever after.’
I felt a sharp stab of pain – not sadness exactly; I was too used to sadness already for it to give me a sharp stab of anything. But something else, something more like regret.
‘You’re already married, remember?’
‘I could’ve become a bigamist. Or a polyamorist – isn’t that what all the young people are into now?’
‘Not sure we’re young enough for that sort of carry-on.’
‘Laurel.’ He opened his eyes, squinting against the sun. ‘Here’s the thing. I don’t know. I met you and I fell head over heels, and I thought that somehow it would all work out. I never really thought about how. All I knew was that I didn’t want to hurt Anna and the kids.’
‘You have hurt her, though,’ I went on. ‘Now she knows about me.’
‘Course. It’s been hard for her, finding out about us along with… all the other stuff. But it’s not like things were perfect between us before.’
‘How weren’t they perfect?’
He grimaced, pushing his sunglasses up off his eyes. I could see the yellow tinge in the whites.
‘No marriage is. No person is, right? You start out and everything’s roses and violins and then you buy a house and suddenly every conversation you have is about money and plastering, and then you have kids and all you talk about is sleepless nights and shitty nappies, and before you know it you’ve lost your way. ’
‘Is that what happened with you and Anna? You lost your way?’
He sighed. ‘I’m not good with words. I’m a visual guy. But I guess so.’
I thought about me and Simon. The scuffs and chips that had appeared along the way in our relationship, the outworn habits, my awareness that it wasn’t right for me any more but my reluctance to change anything because what I had was familiar and comfortable and I thought that was enough – until it wasn’t.
‘Would that have happened with you and me? If we’d met each other twenty years ago instead of last year? If we’d… you know. Had kids and stuff?’
He reached for my hand and held it. ‘You wanted a baby, didn’t you, Laurel?’
I hesitated, but there was no point in denying it. ‘Yes. I mean, that’s why I left Si. He said he wasn’t ready yet, but he’d been saying it for ten years and it was pretty darn clear that unless I started poking holes in condoms with a pin it wasn’t going to happen.’
‘Do you still want one?’
‘In theory. I mean, if the stork brought me one right now I wouldn’t say no. But when I met you – that kind of felt less important.’
He grinned – that familiar beam of delight that I’d fallen in love with. ‘I swept you off your feet so fast you couldn’t think of anything else, right?’
I couldn’t help returning his smile. ‘Well, yeah. You kind of did.’
‘And how about now?’ As quickly as it had lit up his face, the smile vanished. ‘How do you feel about that now?’
‘If I’m honest, it’s the furthest thing from my mind. I can’t even imagine…’
‘That in the midst of death, there could be life?’ In spite of the grimness of his words, his tone was light.
‘I suppose. But mostly, it’s still all about you. I can’t see past that.’
‘Good to know I’ve still got it.’ He grinned, then he went on, suddenly serious. ‘Laurel. Promise me something.’
‘Of course.’
‘If you meet someone else – like, now. Tomorrow. On the Tube home from here. Someone you could fall in love with and have a family with – promise me you’ll do it. No matter if I’m still here or not. I wouldn’t want you to even tell me. Just do it.’
I shook my head, almost unable to comprehend what he was saying. ‘I couldn’t.’
He reached out and squeezed my hand fiercely. ‘You must. You’d be a fantastic mother.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because you’re loving and resilient and you’re the world’s best listener. And I know about mothers, trust me – I had a shit one, and I’ve seen Anna be a great one. I know which sort you’d be.’
I felt a kind of helplessness wash over me, as if I was drowning, and it was easier to give in to the current than keep swimming.
I knew there could be no one else for me now – not while I still had even the small part of Gray that was mine.
But I also knew what he needed to hear – that his guilt over Anna was enough for him to have to bear without having to feel guilty about me too.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘If I happen to get chatting to Chris Hemsworth in the pub tonight and he asks for my number, he’s getting it. No ifs or buts.’
‘Good girl. So long as you promise to send me a video.’
I laughed. ‘But, Gray. There’s a thing that’s been bothering me.’
‘You mean apart from the fact I’m going to cark it? What’s that? Boiler playing up? Got a troublesome verruca? You can tell me, Laurel.’
I was laughing hard now, the kind of laughter that felt like it might turn to tears at any moment. I leaned down and kissed him, treasuring the feel of his lips against mine and the warmth of the sun on his skin.
When I could speak again, I said, ‘It’s just… I’ve been thinking. There’s going to be a time when I see you and it’ll be the last time.’
‘Well, obviously. I’d have thought you’d have figured that out, what with being a healthcare professional and all.’
He’d stopped laughing now. His eyes were open and looking straight at me, so I could see the golden flecks within the coffee brown.
‘I don’t mean that. I don’t mean when you’re not here any more, although of course I’ve thought about that. I mean before.’
I looked away from him and squinted up at the sun, hoping its warmth would dry the tears I could feel springing to my eyes, but it didn’t.
‘What are you talking about?’ He tried to smile, but I could tell that he was getting what I meant. ‘You’re not going to wait for me to shuffle off? You’re going to dump me first? Even if you don’t meet Chris Hemsworth in the pub?’
I shook my head. ‘I tried that, remember? You wouldn’t let me. I mean when… When you’re not going to be able to get up and about so easily. When you can’t come and meet me like this any more. And knowing that’s going to happen is hard.’
Now he sat up. It looked like it was difficult to do – like he’d stiffened up, lying there, or like the strength in his abdominals wasn’t what it was. Or like moving hurt him.
Once he was up, I swung my leg over his so we were sitting facing each other, my thighs either side of his hips, like lovers. He put his hands on my waist.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘I get that. I wish I could plan for us to say goodbye. I wish I knew when it was going to happen. I wish I could have you with me when I go. But I can’t promise that. I just want you to know you’ll be in my heart right until the end. Right?’
‘Right,’ I said.