Page 116 of The Art of Loving You

The rosette for coming first at sports day.

The driving licence.

A daughter.

She did it all.

My niece – Chloe Norma Emerson as she’s named – is a fighter. She’s tiny but breathing unaided which I am told is encouraging. I gaze at her in wonder through the glass window leading to the neonatal unit.

The rows of cots all cradle new life.

I recall the lyrics of The Beatles song Jack loved so much about those who have come before. The circle of life. People have to leave the earth to give way to someone new. New babies. New families. New hope.

I love you more.

Reluctantly I turn from the window and take the lonely walk down the corridor.

I know where I’m heading.

I have made my decision.

Chapter Forty

It is early when I wake, the sounds of the ward rousing me. I slept here last night after I’d spoken to Mr Baxter and told him that I wanted the operation. I hadn’t expected them to fit me into surgery so quickly, sure I’d be added to an infinitely long waiting list but, possibly because they were worried I’d run away again, they told me they would operate today.

But I won’t run away.

Seeing Chloe make her noisy and dramatic entrance into the world had changed mine. The love that filled my heart was different to the love I felt for Jack. It is solid. Tangible. Something I know to be true.

I’m scared though.

It has been twenty-four hours since I saw Jack and a larger part of me than I’d like wonders if I had ever really seen him at all. It’s discomfiting to pick apart our sense of normal to realise it’s not normal at all. The nausea I had grown accustomed to, the headache that always thuds away in the background, this is how I thought it felt to be me, but it isn’t, not really. I can’t fully remember what healthy feels like. Happy.

But loved?

I can remember the feeling of being loved. Safe. Adored. Mine and Jack’s limbs entwined as we lay in bed,my head resting on his chest, his fingers twirling strands of hair around his finger.

The whisper of forever.

And we had lasted forever, Jack’s forever anyway, and even now I am not letting him go. I’m not moving on, not forgetting him. But I am choosing to live, partly for Mum, Alice and Chloe but, undeniably, also for me.

It is Angela who approaches me with a smile.

‘You don’t work on this ward!’ I am delighted to see her.

‘I heard you were here, hospital jungle drums. How are you feeling?’

I battle to keep my shoulders down, surpassing the shrug that fights to rise. I lick my lips. My mouth is dry and it isn’t only because I am not allowed to eat or drink.

‘Terrified.’ One word but it pretty much sums everything up.

‘Don’t be. I’ve checked the list, they’ll be taking you down before lunch.’

‘Have I got time to see Chloe?’

‘Absolutely, Auntie Libby.’

Auntie Libby! I can’t help but smile all the way to the neonatal unit.

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