Page 92 of The Love of Our Lives
With some panic now, I push my hand up shakily as a nurse with a streaked grey bun passes.
‘Oh, you’re up.’ She smiles and turns briskly, makes her way over to me.
‘What happened?’ I say, as she flicks through a chart.
She lowers it and looks at me. ‘You fainted, dear. We didn’t see any bands on your wrists about any sort of condition and you appeared fine otherwise, so we popped you in here until you woke. The woman you were with keeps asking after you though.’
I feel confused. ‘I fainted? How long have I been out?’
‘Oh, not long, only ten minutes or so.’
This is all so odd. Adam must be wondering where I am.
‘Well, I feel OK now,’ I say, keen to get going as soon as I can.
‘I’m sure you are,’ the nurse says, ‘but I’ll need to check you over quickly before signing you out.’
‘All right,’ I say, still feeling lost.
‘Oh, and I just wanted to check.’
‘Yes?’
‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’
‘No,’ I say immediately, ‘of course I’m . . .’
Then it hits me, like a giant wave rearing up and over me, and this deep sense of ‘knowing’ settles in my womb and in my heart; this overwhelming love and affection for what’s there.
What they created the first time too.
And I know instinctively thatthisis the sensation I’ve been waiting for. This is what it’s all been building to, and in this moment, surrounded by the most peaceful and joyous of feelings, I know exactly what choice I will make.
Which life I have to choose.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
One week to live
‘Like this?’ Adam says, and I pop out of his kitchen to see him up on a chair, surveying the bunting he’s strung down his hallway towards the open terrace door. Soft summer wind drifts down to us, ruffling the material in its wake, which reads, ‘Welcome to the world, Hope’.
I smile widely. ‘That’s perfect, they’ll love it.’
‘Anything else left to do?’
‘I don’t think so,’ I say, as I take the plate of warm sausage rolls into the hallway. We have lemon cake and strawberry tarts from Dee’s, coffees on order from the Purple Pineapple. The roof terrace is decorated with more bunting, a few more chairs and a table set with plates and saucers – all we need now is to make sure the sun keeps shining in the sky.
Adam reaches in to kiss me, even as I’m holding the sausage rolls, and I close my eyes and allow myself to melt into this moment, just like I did this morning when we found each other again in the dawn light.
The doorbell rings and reluctantly we pull apart, foreheads still tipped against each other.
‘We can continue this later,’ Adam murmurs and I feel warm all over.
Adam goes to open the door and everyone pours in – William with Ruth on his arm, Charlie and baby Hope. And at the sight of her, I can’t help thinking again how relieved we all were when we heard that, despite being four weeks premature, Hope wouldbe absolutely fine; a touch of jaundice maybe, but nothing that couldn’t be sorted within a few days.
‘Sven’s just bringing up the nappies we forgot,’ Charlie says, passing Hope to Adam for a cuddle.
Another couple from dancing are next in, one of the girls we met climbing too. Everyone traipses through the hallway, and we begin the tangled process of hugging each other with bursts of, ‘such a good day for it,’ and ‘thanks so much for having us,’ and just at the end as everyone starts to head up the stairs, William turns to me, clutches my hand, and I swear it’s as if he knows.
