Page 97 of The Life We Almost Had

Nothing.

There’s nothing.

Fifteen minutes, nothing.

Thirty minutes, nothing.

It doesn’t work.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Anna

Eva was different during our session today. Uncomfortable. She frequently looked at the floor to avoid making eye contact.

Oliver is much the same as he leans against the wall in front of Adam’s room, studying his shoes as though they’re some sort of miraculous scientific discovery.

‘I need to go and rest,’ I say. Something is clearly wrong but I can’t face another conversation about the trial right now.

Oliver has other ideas. ‘I’m so sorry, Anna. I’ve decided to put an end to the trial. To go back to development stage.’

‘But outside… we sat on the bench… I told you about the baby. I need to know the sex of my child. I thought you understood.’

‘There is no baby,’ Oliver says sadly.

‘There is. There…’ He can’t look at me. Something has happened. ‘What makes you so sure there isn’t a baby? Before you didn’t know whether the equipment was working or not.’

‘I… I’ve concluded—’

Immediately I know. ‘Oh my God.’ I step backwards. ‘You tried it. You tried it when I was with Eva.’ He doesn’t have to answer.The expression on his face tells me I am right. ‘Howcouldyou, Oliver? Itrustedyou. I thought that we were friends.’

‘We are friends. It’s because I care about—’

‘You don’t care about me.’ The thought I might never hear Adam talk again, hear his laugh, feel his hands on my skin is torturous. ‘You don’t care about anything except yourself and your dead wife. What would Clem think of you now, Oliver? Going behind my back. Lying to me.’ I squeezed my hands into fists. ‘I don’t care what your experience was in the scanner. It works for me. Don’t stop it.’

‘I have to. It’s my final decision and the right one, despite how it seems. That’s what testing is for. We try and try again until we get it right.’

‘And how long will that take? Until you’re convinced you’vegot it right? In time for me? Adam?’

Oliver opens his mouth and closes it again without speaking.

‘I thought not.’

‘I’m so sorry, Anna.’

‘Fuck you.’ I push past him and run into my bedroom, throw myself onto my bed and cry as though my heart is breaking.

As though my heart is breaking again.

I’ve been holding Adam’s hand for hours; my fingers tingle with pins and needles but I don’t let go of him for a second. I’m in despair that Oliver has given up on us. It’s only a matter of time before he sends us home. A few days ago I’d been searching for a way to fly us back to the UK but now the thought of being in a crowded NHS hospital, with overworked nurses who have the best intentions but not enough time for their patients, is horribly depressing. I know Oliver will initially send us to a private hospital but he can’t fund that forever, can he?

Two years. Twelve years. Twenty years.

Here, with this large private room, with Luis and the team, Adam is in the best hands. Will he even survive a flight?

I have never felt more alone.

Oliver cracks open the door.

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