Page 76 of The Life We Almost Had

‘Hello, love. I didn’t expect to hear from you while you’re away.’

Her voice renders me mute. Overcome with the emotion of needing her.

‘Anna, what’s wrong?’

‘I don’t want you to worry but—’

‘Oh God, it’s terrorists, isn’t it? Are you somewhere safe?’

‘It isn’t terrorists—’

‘A tsunami. You need to be somewhere high—’

‘Mum! It’s Adam.’ I pause to let that settle in. ‘There’s been an accident.’ Slowly, reluctantly, I tell her, not everything – not about the baby or the clinical trial – but enough.

‘But he will wake up?’

I close my eyes. She sounds so close it’s as though I can reach out my hand and touch her. I wish that I could.

‘His original doctor, Dr Acevedo, said that typically comas last between two and four weeks.’ I keep the details as vague as I can.

Two years. Twelve years. Twenty years.

‘A month! Oh, Anna. I’ll come. I’ll book a flight and—’

‘You can’t. Nan needs you.’

‘Youneed me.’ I’ve never heard her sound so strong. So determined. After Dad died, every single decision she had to make took forever as she endlessly deliberated. Constantly asking my opinion. Leaning on me the way she’d always leaned on him, sometimes too much. I was grieving too.

‘I’m okay. Adam’s got a great new doctor, Oliver Chapman, and Nell’s coming out in a few days – she rang a few moments ago to see how the holiday is going.’I lie to spare her feelings. She’ll be hurt that Nell knew several days ago and had flown out straight away.

‘I can be there—’

‘I know. And thank you, but let’s give it a few days and see what happens. Adam could wake and we’ll be home before you get here! I’m coping.’

‘I’ve no doubt about that. You’ve always been a tough little thing. After Dad… you did so much. Too much. I wasn’t in a good state, but I’m okay now. Please don’t feel you have to keep things from me.’

‘I won’t. Mum, about Dad. Is there anything you wish you could have told him when he was in hospital that you didn’t get to say?’ We had all thought he’d recover. None of us said goodbye.

‘Yes,’ Mum answers straight away. ‘I talked to him while he was unconscious. I don’t know if it’s possible he could have heard me. The doctor and one of the nurses said he couldn’t, but there was another nurse who said she believed he could. Anyway, I told him that I’d be changing his diet, swapping sticky toffee puddings for fruit and that we’d dig out his golf clubs from the garage, make sure he got some exercise. But what I didn’t say, what I should have said, is that I’d be okay without him. Not because I wanted to be without him, or I believed I would be okay, but because…’ She falters. ‘Because if he could have heard me, it would have reassured him. Made letting go that little bit easier. He always worried so much and I hate to think his last thoughts were wondering how I’d cope alone.’

She sniffs and I know she is crying too.

I’m doing the right thing.

What comfort Oliver’s work could have brought Mum.Knowing that Dad could hear her would have made such a difference. Would have allowed her to say all the things she needed to make it easier for him. For her.

‘I’ve got to go, Mum, but I’ll call you soon.’

‘I love you, Anna.’

‘I love you too.’

And leaving my doubts and fears on the beach, I head back up the incline to the Institute.

It is time.

I shuffle out of my bedroom, self-conscious in the gown Sofia has given me to put on. All of my bras have underwire and because I can’t wear anything with metal in the scanner, I’d had to take it off. Self-consciously I cross my arms across my chest as I pad, in socked feet, to find Oliver.

---