Page 99 of The Life We Almost Had

If it is too much and my mind can’t cope, perhaps there is a chance I would stay with Adam. That our consciousness can be together, even if our physical bodies can’t.

I know there’s a chance that this might be dangerous. That mentally I might never come back from this. But somewhere, Adam waits for me. My baby waits for me. I imagine dressing their tiny body in the lemon sleepsuit covered in bears, still wrapped in tissue paper as fragile as my heart. I can do this, I can. I am steadfast in the belief that there is something beyond the realms of our imagination. Something extraordinary and incomprehensible to us as we live out our too-short lives on this planet we call home. I know there is something; I’ve been there and there has to be a way I can stay there for good. Here, there is nothing for me because a world without Adam doesn’t make sense to me. My need to be with my husband. My child. It overrides everything else. So what if I die trying? What I’m doing now, the way I’m feeling, is hardly living.

I’m going to find a way to reach Adam without Oliver.

I’m going to find a way to stay with him.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Anna

Ihad waited for twenty minutes before creeping into Luis’s room. He’d been flat out on his back, snoring. I switched off the alarm he had set. Hopefully his fever would keep him asleep for hours. It had been a struggle to slide Adam from his bed onto a trolley and from the trolley onto the table but love, the thought of being with Adam once more, had given me strength.

I hold Adam’s hand. Praying I have fixed everything up properly.

I must have done because suddenly I am falling. Dizzy. Disorientated.

Scared and confused, until…

A baby cries.

It has worked.

‘Your turn,’ Adam mumbles, nudging me in the ribs with his elbow. I sit up, ecstatic. Eager to take this turn, every turn. My heart bursting with happiness.

It has worked.

By the dim nightlight plugged in under the window, I see the outline of a Moses basket. Inside it, a small face screwed up with rage,damp curls plastered to a forehead, tiny hands fisted, is a baby.

My baby.

The room starts to spin and at first I am terrified I’m going to find myself back in the Institute. I steady myself, one hand resting on the wall, realizing I’m not going anywhere. I am, however, completely swamped with a rush of new emotions.

‘Hello, you,’ I whisper. I don’t yet know whether I’m mum to a boy or a girl, but a pure, unfiltered love sweeps through me, snatching my breath. A balance of tenderness and strength. A sudden knowing that I would lay down my life to protect theirs. It’s incredible that I feel all of this and more within seconds of becoming a mum.

A mum!

Then, another sound. The bark of a dog. My eyes are drawn to another wicker basket, this time by the door. A golden puppy clambers out with huge floppy ears and a wagging tail.

I scoop my child into my chest as Adam says, ‘Shush, Dug. It’s just Harry, hungry again.’

Harry!

Adam clicks on the lamp. His eyes are shadowed with black circles. He yawns as Dug dances around the bed, looking longingly at the door. ‘Want to go out, do you, boy? We might as well have a cuppa, now we’reallup?’

‘Well, you thought it was a good idea getting a dog.’ I try to keep my tone light but I can hear the wobble in my voice. It’s a lot to take in.

‘Yeah, well, we could hardly give him back when he was a baby gift from Josh. Anyway, you know all the books said as long as baby is here first, Dug will know he’s not in charge.’ Adam sighs as the puppy happily chews Adam’s slipper.‘Who am I kidding? He’stotallyin charge.’

‘I can go downstairs, so you can sleep?’ I offer, jigging up and down while Harry continues to cry.

‘Sleep? What’s that? Nah, it’s okay. While I’m still on paternity leave, I can catch up in the day tomorrow. I’ll go and make myself useful with the kettle. I can’t feed the baby, can I?’

Adam pads downstairs, Dug at his heels. Carefully I climb back into bed, holding Harry as though he is the most precious thing in the world.

And he is.

Nervously, I undo the buttons on my pyjama top, feeling I haven’t done this before, but of course some version of me must have because there’s no way a baby could cry as loudly as Harry without being healthy and well fed.

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