When Anna wakes up, Oliver needs to tell her some more bad news.
Chapter Sixty
Adam
Words. Sentences. Snatches of a one-sided conversation that makes no sense.
Harry isn’t real?
Anna has survivor’s guilt.
If Anna’s the survivor, what does that make me?
I try to move, but I can’t.
Chapter Sixty-One
Oliver
‘I’ve booked you flights back to the UK for the morning. A private ambulance will meet you at the airport to transport you both to St Agnes. It’s a private hospital.’
‘Oliver…’ Anna begins to cry. Oliver feels his heart shatter.
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Is there anything I can say to make you change your mind?’ Anna wipes her eyes with her sleeve.
‘You could stay but the trial is over. Don’t you think you’d be better off at home, with your family and friends?’
‘I thought you were my friend,’ Anna says in a small voice.
‘I’d like us to stay in touch. I’ve grown very fond of you, Anna. Of you both. Do you hate me?’
Anna considers the question. ‘No, I don’t. You’ve shown me something wonderful. Something amazing. I wish it could carry on but… no, I don’t regret coming here. That chance to spend some more time with Adam, to see the life we almost had, I feel… I feel incredibly sad that it’s over, of course.’
‘Nothing lasts forever, unfortunately.’
‘Love does.’ There’s a confidence to her words. ‘I had thought a few weeks ago that I didn’t love Adam anymore, that our struggle through infertility was too long, too hard for us to recover from, despite my pregnancy. The resentment too deep. If you hadn’t given me the opportunity to speak to him again, perhaps I’d always have felt that way. Now I know. Nothing is insurmountable if you want it badly enough. Adam is my…’
‘Seagull?’ Oliver suggests.
‘Not quite as romantic as I hoped, but yes. My seagull. My mate for life. My everything.’
‘If there’s ever anything you need. Anything. Just call. More than anything, I want you to be happy. I hope Adam recovers, Anna. I really do.’ Adam only has a 3 per cent chance of recovery but Oliver is rooting for him. He’s a scientist, but he still believes in miracles.
Oliver opens his arms and Anna steps into them. This is goodbye.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Anna
‘We’re going home tomorrow,’ I tell Adam.
I’m trying to stay positive. Oliver’s right. I’ve a support network waiting for me at home: Nan, Mum, Nell, Josh. Together, we’ll all keep the faith that one day Adam might recover.
Two years.
Twelve years.
Twenty years.
Without the help of Oliver, I worry how long I’ll be able to keep alive the vibrant Adam who lives clearly in my mind. But I vow I will. I can’t ever let him become a memory, vague and fading.
‘So…’ Usually I fill the silence with chatter, recollections of times past or plans for the future but now I cannot think of a single thing to say. I feel lost. As though I’ve forgotten who I am and why I’m here. As though I have failed my husband, failed us both. The thought of our little family slipping away, of never holding Harry in my arms, is heartbreaking.
Outside it is gloomy. For the first time since we arrived on the island, the sun isn’t beaming down. Clouds slip across the sky like ghosts.
Intermittently I doze.
Each time I wake, I remember we are leaving soon and I feel desolate once more. A ripple of a memory stirs, just outside my grasp. There’s something important, something that will change everything. I try and force it to the forefront of my mind but my recollection is slow and muddied.
I lay my head on Adam’s chest and whisper, I need you.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Adam
Anna’s head is on my chest. It’s impossible to gauge whether she has her eyes open or closed. I need to move. Speak. Do something.
Trying to raise my finger is like trying to lift a two-tonne weight. Mentally draining and physically impossible. My eyelids are equally heavy and my frustration builds; even babies can blink.
Anna.
I am incredulous that she can’t hear me calling her name. That she can’t see the shape of it leave my lips.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Anna
‘Anna.’ Adam’s voice is warm and soft.
‘You’re awake?’ A sunburst of happiness. I touch his face. His lips. Feel his mouth crinkle into a smile.
‘Yeah. Sorry. Have I been asleep long?’
‘Too long.’
‘What have I missed?’
Everything.
Nothing.
Me.
‘Happy anniversary, husband.’
‘Happy anniversary, wife.’
I have to fetch Oliver. Ring the buzzer and summon Luis, but I can’t let go of Adam. I won’t let go of Adam.
He holds me close. ‘Anna.’ His voice a whisper in the breeze.
I jolt awake.
Neck stiff and eyes sticky with sleep. Drool crusted around my mouth. The disappointment that Adam hasn’t really woken is crushing. I had spent last night pressed against him. My sleep light with fear, not allowing myself to fall too deeply in case I inadvertently dislodged a tube. A wire. I am heavy with sadness. That might be the last time I share a bed with my husband; it won’t be possible in a regular-sized hospital bed – if Adam survives the journey home.
If.
I wish I could step inside his consciousness and tell him goodbye. I wish Oliver would change his mind. But he is adamant the trial hasn’t worked.
As I think this, there’s another sliver of something I can’t quite put my finger on. I close my eyes and try to will the thought to form but it doesn’t take shape.
Sofia taps on the door. ‘The car will be ready in two hours to take you to the airport.’
I still need to pack but first I want to make the most of this quiet time. Adam and me in bed. The sound of the waves outside. The sun beating through the window.
‘So before we go home I want to remind you of a few things.’
I begin to tell him the story of us, just so he doesn’t forget how much we love each other.
I will, never, ever forget that again.
I’ve covered our meeting, his proposal, am onto our wedding when I think his hand moves slightly under mine. I hold my breath. Wait.
But nothing happens.
It’s wishful thinking, I know.
I carry on talking.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Adam
Her fingers stroke mine, slowly. Rhythmically. Under hers I try to move my own but it’s fruitless.
She’s telling me about our wedding day. About Josh’s speech.
‘What can I say about Ad?’ Josh had said as he shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot, pausing to down yet another glass of champagne. I was already cringing. Already second-guessing the content of the speech he hadn’t let me read.
Adam’s a twat for giving up his dreams and marrying so young.
He wet the bed until he was seven.