Page 56 of The Life We Almost Had

‘That I do.’ She had pressed a finger to her lips and kissed it before brushing her fingertip against Oliver’s mouth. He had nodded his head once. A silent acceptance that he knew how much she adored him. That he adored her too. It became their signal at the numerous functions they had to attend where Oliver would feel out of his depth, unable to keep up with the small talk. The politics. The bow tie around his neck feeling like cheese wire. His eyes would search out hers across the ballroom, she’d be grouped with the rest of the wives. She’d press her finger to her mouth and Oliver would nod.

Their love had been colourful and vibrant then.

Oliver slotted his Corsa into his usual space around the back of the Institute,next to the bins. A million miles from his old homecomings where his Jag would crunch up the driveway. Clem would have been shadowed in the doorway, honeyed light spilling around her shoulders, greeting him with a tumbler of whiskey and her brilliant, brilliant smile.

It was Sofia, his assistant, who greeted him now.

‘How did it… Oh, Oliver.’

He couldn’t summon a smile.

‘You mustn’t lose heart.’ She knew him so well. ‘There’ll be other patients—’

‘I know,’ Oliver sighed. He didn’t explain that his disappointment wasn’t only because after years of hard work he was finally ready to commence clinical trials and he thought he had found a subject, but because the similarities between Anna and Clem had unsettled him. ‘I’m going to get changed.’

His quarters were cramped. Stuffy. The air-conditioning in this part of the building broken. One of these days Oliver would get around to having it fixed but for now he didn’t mind the discomfort, welcomed it almost. He supposed he felt he deserved it. Besides, he had come from nothing.

He could live off site, somewhere infinitely more spacious, but he preferred to plough every penny into the Institute. Besides, the tiny lounge that also doubled as a dining room often reminded him of where he had grown up, the kind of place he would probably have spent all of his adult life if it hadn’t been for his brief, glorious relationship with Clem.

Oliver took off his tie. He rarely wore one but he had wanted to make a good impression.

It was quiet in this place he couldn’t quite call home and that wasn’t only because of his stark surroundings. He missed Clem tinkling on her piano,humming along to the Billie Holiday tracks that crackled and hissed from her record player. He couldn’t relax in the silence – it was a stark reminder that he lived alone – but he didn’t feel entirely comfortable in the company of others either.

In the bathroom, he splashed cold water onto his face, closing his eyes against the memory of Anna’s anger. First meetings were always impossible, but still, he could have handled it better. The first time he met Clem had been just as disastrous. Her father’s friend was holding a benefit. His wife had suffered a stroke and he had wanted to raise both money and awareness for brain research. Oliver’s boss, Mateo, had been scheduled to give a speech but at the last minute he had come down with a sore throat and asked Oliver to step in. Oliver had stood on the stage under the bright, white lights, sweat sticking the shirt to his back, his voice a stammer. He had been completely out of his comfort zone and that was before he had even spotted the woman in the front row, sparkling in a sea-green dress, thick dark hair cascading over her shoulders.

‘And mermaid’ had slipped out of his mouth before he corrected himself to ‘And moreover’ and the rest of his carefully prepared presentation fell out of his mouth in a gibbering rush. Afterwards she had approached him.

‘That was quite a speech.’

He had waited for a punchline that didn’t come.

‘It must be so rewarding to know you’re making a difference. The world needs more people like you.’ There was a wistful look in her eyes. ‘Do you think you’ll ever find a cure for Parkinson’s? My grandfather had it. Such a cruel disease.’

‘Yes.’ Oliver had wanted to take her hand. To tell her his uncle had Parkinson’s too and he understood, but he wasn’t a tactile person and so he had tried to use words to reassure her instead,explaining he was confident that a cure would be found in their lifetime. He wanted to tell her about the exciting progress that had been made in understanding the cause of the disease. ‘Can I buy you a drink…’ He had trailed off as she lifted a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. ‘Sorry, I’m an idiot.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Her blue eyes had settled on his. ‘Tell me why you think a cure will be found.’

He had begun to talk. Terminology tripping off his tongue but she had nodded along, asking him to clarify the things she didn’t understand and instantly he fell in love. He had been astonished that she felt the same.

Clem had been an heiress. There had been much gossip when they shared their fledging relationship. Oliver was branded a gold-digger. He knew what her friends and family had thought about him. The way their whispers dried up as he approached –Oliver, old boy, super to see you– their booming, cheerful voices doing nothing to detract from the suspicion in their eyes.

Oliver wondered what they would think if they saw him living this way. They would likely take some pleasure in his empty fridge, his creased clothes.

The concerns hadn’t only come from her side.

‘You might be happy now but there’s no long-term future for you both,’ his more forthright friends had told him. ‘You’re a novelty, her bit of rough. You’ll never fit in properly to her world. She’ll grow tired of you, and then what?’

But for Oliver and Clem there had been no divide, only an ‘us’ that strengthened each time someone tried to draw them apart.

There was something about Anna that reminded him of Clem. The defiant tilt to her chin. Her loyalty to Adam. Her desire to protect him.He thought Anna wouldn’t let Adam go as easily as Clem had slipped through his fingers. Here one minute, gone the next.

He knew he shouldn’t, he knew he should go back to work, but he couldn’t help opening the sideboard and pulling out their wedding album. Touching her photos as he’d once have touched her face. He could still smell her sometimes, the heady mix of jasmine and lime. It was as if she had just popped out. He had been left waiting endlessly for her to return.

Oliver slipped on his white lab coat that felt as much a part of him as his skin, but instead of heading back to his research he lifted a glass from the cupboard.

Anna.

Clem.

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