Page 59 of The Life We Almost Had

‘One more bit of egg, Anna,’ she said. ‘You need the nutrients. God, I’ve turned into my mother. Speaking of mothers…’

‘I know.’ I haven’t yet told mine what has happened. ‘I’ll ring her later. I haven’t been up to telling her, knowing she’ll cry and then I’ll cry.’

‘Yes. And then you’ll feel terrible that she’s so worried about you. But we do worry about you. I know Adam’s the one in the hospital bed but that’s just left you with all the practical worries and now you’ve told me about the baby—’

‘I’m not going to tell her about the miscarriage. Please don’t tell anyone. Do you think I should tell Adam while he’s…?’

‘Do you think he can hear you?’

‘I don’t know. I met a man earlier, Oliver Chapman from The Chapman Institute for Brain Science. He seems to think that if there’s anything going on inside Adam’s mind he can uncover it.’ I recounted our conversation.

‘Hmm. It might be worth hearing him out.’

‘Don’t you think it sounds a bit…’ I chewed the sore skin around my thumbnail. Should I have listened properly to Oliver? ‘I couldn’t take it in. I couldn’t make him out either. He seemed more uncomfortable than I was.’

‘I think scientists are perhaps a bit strange. They probably spend more time with test tubes than actual people. Let’s google him.’ Nell fetched her iPad from her hand luggage. ‘Right.’ She angled the screen so we could both see the results. There was a myriad of links to research studies and this gave me hope that perhaps Oliver was credible. Perhaps hecouldhelp me and Adam.

Nell opened an article titled, ‘Is it all over for the once brilliant Chapman?’ Whilst I read, a sick feeling spread through me.

Oliver had lied.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Oliver

Oliver remembered it so clearly, the day everything changed. There had been a charity gala over on the mainland. Oliver was supposed to go but he had been so wrapped up in his consciousness research, so wrapped up in finding a way to connect to patients with Parkinson’s dementia like his uncle. As he had wandered into the bedroom to change, Clem had sensed his reluctance to leave the project. She had been sitting at the dressing table, sweeping blusher over her cheeks but underneath the rose pink, Oliver knew how pale she was. She had been overdoing it lately.

She had caught his eye in the mirror. ‘You stay and work.’

‘No. I want to come with you.’

She widened her eyes and they had both laughed.

‘Okay, maybe “want” is a bit strong but…’

‘No buts.’ She had stood and draped a shawl around the shoulders he wanted to kiss. Her black dress hung loose. She had lost weight lately. This weekend he would cook her favourite meal: rack of lamb and creamy mashed potatoes.

‘You catch up on your workload. I’m so proud of you. Your uncle would be too.Don’t lose sight of that,’ she had said, knowing his progress was painfully slow.

‘I know. It’s just that… all those people who would benefit if I could just break through.’

‘And that’s why I love you. You’re not driven by ego but a desire to help. Now get back to it. I’ll get the schmoozing out of the way and then we’ll both have the weekend free to spend some quality time together.’

‘Ooh! Quality time!’ Oliver had waggled his eyebrows as he looped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him.

‘Maybe we’ll start ourquality timewhen I get home.’ She had played with a button on his shirt. ‘Do wait up.’

He had leaned in to kiss her before he had second thoughts.

‘I don’t want to ruin your make-up. You’re beautiful, you know.’

‘You’re not so bad yourself.’

‘Even if I’m socially inept.’

‘Especially because you’re socially inept. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’m shattered so it won’t be a late one.’

Oliver had watched from the window as she climbed into the taxi. She pressed a finger to her lips and Oliver nodded once. It was the last time he had seen her without her diagnosis hanging over them. She’d collapsed that night and been rushed to hospital.

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