Before You Go Page 22

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Mum gets up and crouches in front of me and wraps her arms around me, holding me tightly to her. And then I can’t hold it in any more; my whole body shakes with sobs, letting out the pain of everything I’ve lost before and since this day, and it feels as though I’m never going to stop.

  Slowly, though, I calm down, until just an occasional shuddering sob judders through my body like an aftershock. And when I stop, Mum’s still in front of me, kneeling now, holding me and waiting for me to be calm. And I’m so grateful.

  ‘Thank you, Mum.’

  ‘Oh sweetheart. It’s what I’m here for.’

  She sits on the chair next to me and leans over and cups her hands round mine, as though she can hold all the pain in there for me.

  Neither of us speaks for a few minutes; we just sit in silence, letting the clock tick on, and the words that have filled the room settle, take their rightful place. Then Mum says: ‘I can’t believe you blame yourself.’ I look at her and she smiles, apologetically. ‘It’s true. How can you possibly think any of this is your fault?’

  ‘I just feel like we’ve failed. Like I’ve failed. Me and Ed – well, you can see. It’s all falling apart and that has to be my fault. Who else’s is it?’

  Mum pauses for a moment. ‘When things like this happen, Zoe, it’s natural to let it be something that pulls you apart rather than something that holds you together. That’s the only thing that’s gone wrong here, but it doesn’t mean you’ve failed.’

  She pauses, as if she wants to say something more but isn’t sure whether to. Then she takes a deep breath. ‘Zoe, you know, nothing is ever as simple as it seems, and things always go wrong. But you can always get through them. Before you were born me and your dad – well, we had a few problems having you, let’s just say. Back then there weren’t so many treatments and things you could do about it, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t take its toll on us as a couple. We fought, we bickered, and yes, it started to become bigger than us. The truth is, darling, we have no idea what would have happened to us if it had gone on any longer. But then, luckily for us, I fell pregnant and you came along, and me and your dad were OK again.

  ‘But nobody’s perfect, and nobody would expect you to be happy and sunny and the best wife in the world when you’re going through so much. So you have to stop beating yourself up about it, and realize that what you and Ed are going through is perfectly normal and that you will, and can, get through it. I know you can. You love each other and that’s all that matters.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve never told me any of this before.’

  Mum shakes her head. ‘It didn’t seem to matter, really – not until now. But I want you to realize that, well, that you and Ed have to sort things out and fight for you. Listen, even if you never end up having a baby – which I’m sure won’t happen – you’ll still have each other and you have to be stronger than me and your dad and make sure this doesn’t ruin everything. It’s too important.’

  I know she’s right. But it doesn’t mean I have the slightest idea what to do about it. How on earth do I even start getting back from here? Ed and I have hardly spoken for the last few months, and when we have it’s been to argue or snap.

  There’s nothing I want more than to have the old us back, the us that loved each other unconditionally. It’s up to me to work out how to get back there. I’ve got to keep giving it my best shot.

  For the rest of the evening I feel like such a fraud. Mum’s being so kind and even Dad isn’t being as annoying as usual. I’ve opened up so much, it now feels wrong to hide from them the even bigger thing that’s going on – that I’m reliving this for the second time, and that they’re probably by my bedside in a hospital, waiting for me to wake up from a coma. If that’s where I actually am.

  But when I imagine saying the words I know I can’t do it.

  This might sound strange, Mum, but I’ve already lived this day once and I’m just reliving it again. I’ve relived lots of other days too. Oh, and by the way, Ed dies soon so I think I’ve come back to try and save him.

  No. Those words can never leave my mouth, not to anyone.

  Instead, over shepherd’s pie and red wine, we talk about Becky and the kids.

  ‘Have you seen them much recently?’ Mum says. Then her mouth drops open in horror. ‘Oh God, sorry, love, I didn’t mean—’ She trails off, mortified. ‘Sorry, that was really insensitive.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Mum. It’s fine. I do see them, but not as often as I should. But I am going to do something about that.’

  ‘Good. Might stop Becky moaning every time she rings about how she never sees you any more.’ Dad scoops another forkful of mashed potato into his mouth.

  ‘John!’

  ‘What?’ Dad looks up, confused. ‘I was only saying.’

  ‘Why do you have to be so – so rude!’

  I can’t help smiling. ‘It’s all right. I know what Dad means.’

  ‘See? I didn’t mean anything by it. Zoe knows.’ He takes a slurp of red wine and carries on eating, oblivious.

  ‘Sorry about your dad, love.’ Mum shoots him a look but he ignores her.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Anyway, how are you?’

  ‘Oh, you know, love, same as always. Your dad’s driving me mad, always getting under my feet since he retired, but, you know. It’s nice to have him about. Most of the time.’

  Dad grins and as the conversation returns to safer ground, Mum relaxes.

  I try to as well but I’m struggling, because there’s something on my mind that’s niggling at me, like a stone in a shoe that just won’t go away. I know I have to ring Ed before I go to bed, and I’m scared. I’m scared about what I’m going to say, and how to speak to him without crying. Because this could be the last day I get to relive, and he hasn’t even been in it.

  Finally, about 10.30, Mum stands, yawning. ‘Right, I’m off to bed. Do you want to use the home phone to ring Ed, love?’

  ‘No, it’s fine, thanks, Mum, I’ll use my mobile.’

  ‘OK. Well, night then.’

  Dad stays where he is, drinking the dregs of his wine.

  ‘John.’

  He looks up at her sharp tone. ‘Oh, right. Night then, love.’ He drains the rest of the glass and puts it in the sink. ‘Good luck.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  And then they’ve gone and I’m left alone with my mobile and my thoughts. I listen to Mum and Dad’s footsteps as they climb slowly up the stairs, then hear them pottering around, their voices subdued as they go about their night-time routine. The toilet flushes, the boiler fires as hot water runs, there’s a clatter of a toothbrush being thrown into its holder, and then the floorboards creak a few more times. Then it’s silent and I know I can’t put it off any longer.

  My heart starts thumping wildly in my chest and for a minute I think I can’t do it.

  Don’t be ridiculous, this is Ed. Your Ed, the man you love, who you’ve known since you were eighteen. This is not a scary phone call.

  I breathe deeply a few times then pick up the phone. I press the green button, put the phone to my ear and wait for it to ring.

  ‘Zoe?’ Ed’s voice, so familiar, answers before the phone has even rung, and I’m taken by surprise. The sound of his voice makes me want to throw my arms around him and never let go. But he’s 200 miles away and even further away from me emotionally.

  I feel my voice catch in my throat as I answer him.

  ‘Hi.’ My voice sounds small.

  ‘Thank God. I didn’t know whether to ring you but I was desperate to speak to you before I went to bed.’ His voice sounds sad, lonely.

  ‘How – how are you?’

  The line hums for a second before Ed answers.

  ‘I’m . . . not great. Not great at all.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  Another pause.

  ‘Zoe, I’m sorry for leaving like that this morning. I just didn’t know what to say. I thought it
might be too hard, seeing you before you left.’

  ‘I know. I just – I missed you.’

  ‘Yes. Me too.’ A pause. ‘I went to see Mum. She told me off.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Being a dick and letting you leave. She didn’t say dick, though, obviously.’

  ‘No.’ I smile at the thought of Susan talking to Ed like that. It was so unlikely. ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘Well, I agreed with her, of course. I just – I’m not really sure how we ended up here.’

  Part of me wants to say it was his idea, but I know he doesn’t mean that.

  ‘I don’t know. I really don’t.’

  Ed lets out a rush of air and the sound buzzes in my ear. ‘God, this is horrible,’ he says, his voice cracking. ‘Have you – have you told your parents?’

  ‘Yes. Well, I told Mum. I’m sure she’ll be telling Dad even as we speak.’

  ‘God, they must hate me.’

  ‘Course they don’t. They just want us to sort it out. For us. For me.’

  ‘Me too. We will, won’t we, Zo?’

  ‘Yes, we will. Trust me, this is only temporary.’ Another pause. ‘So what now?’

  ‘I don’t know. I suppose I ought to stay here a bit longer. I’ve got some work with me. If I come back now, won’t we be back at square one again?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose we will. But I think I already know what I want.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t want to lose you.’

  ‘Good. I don’t want to lose you either.’

  ‘So – when will you come back? Next week?’

  ‘Perhaps. Probably. Let’s make the most of this time, really think about things. Let’s make it worth the pain. And Ed?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Don’t forget to feed George.’

  ‘I won’t. He’s here now. He misses you.’

  ‘I miss him too.’

  Silence crackles down the phone again, and I wonder what Ed’s thinking. Then he speaks.

  ‘OK, sweetheart, let’s get some sleep. Can I ring you tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, definitely.’

  ‘OK, night then.’

  ‘Night.’

  And then I end the call, and the screen goes black.

  I wipe my face, and am surprised to find I’ve been crying. It feels awful hearing Ed so desolate and sad on the other end of the phone, and for a split second I consider taking the train home right now and throwing myself into his arms. But I’m too exhausted so instead I stand, take myself up the stairs, climb gratefully under the covers and slip off into sleep, hoping that when I wake up I’ll see Ed again.

  17

  9 June 2012

  They say that when you lose a sense, your other senses kick in stronger than before to compensate. Which could be why, before I even open my eyes, I know that someone is looking at me. It’s not scary, but my heart is hammering anyway at the anticipation that it might be Ed again, and at the disappointment I know will flood through me if it turns out not to be. If it turns out that yesterday was my last second-chance day, and I’m back in the present.

  I can hear a gentle, rhythmic breathing, but I can’t tell whether it’s mine or someone else’s. There’s also a tap, tap, tap sound, which stops every few beats and then starts again. A radiator? Footsteps outside, but no squeaks or loud voices or rumbling trolleys to indicate I’m in a hospital. In fact, I’m fairly sure I’m at home, at my flat, in my bed. The sounds are so familiar it’s as though they’re part of me.

  I open my eyes and squint slightly in the bright sunshine streaming through the open blind. There’s a silhouette which, as my eyes adjust to the light, slowly comes into focus.

  ‘Ed!’ I throw my arms around him and he falls backwards.

  ‘Who did you expect to see in bed with you, Father Christmas?’ he laughs. I laugh too with sheer relief. I’ve got another day with Ed, and this time it seems we don’t hate each other. Thank God. I can only hope today will be a good day.

  ‘Why were you staring at me like that?’ I say, flopping my head back down on the pillow.

  ‘I was just looking. I’m allowed; you are my wife.’ Ed grins. He seems overexcited, like a small puppy.

  ‘What are you so happy about?’

  A frown crosses his face briefly and he sticks out his bottom lip. ‘You mean you’ve already forgotten?’ He pretends to sulk.

  ‘Um, no. Forget? How could I forget?’ Forget what? Come on, brain!

  ‘Are you excited? It’ll be so nice, after everything we’ve been through.’

  ‘Yes, it will.’ Oh God, this is excruciating.

  ‘So are you going to show me what you’re wearing now, then? It’s not our actual wedding, you don’t have to be so superstitious about it.’

  And then it dawns on me. It’s 9 June 2012. The day we renewed our wedding vows.

  Ed had suggested it after we’d had our time apart.

  ‘It’s been horrible, the last couple of years,’ he’d said. ‘I just want to show you, and everyone else, that we’re as strong as ever. What do you think?’

  ‘I think, Edward Williams, that you’re the loveliest man in the world. And a soppy old git.’

  ‘Does that mean yes, then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Brilliant. And not so much of the old next time, thanks.’

  Which was why, almost seven years after we’d married, we were renewing our vows in front of a few friends and family. It wasn’t a huge affair, but it meant so much.

  I can’t believe that, by the time he died a year later, we were so far away from this moment again. But for now, I shake the thought from my head. I don’t want to spoil it, not yet.

  ‘Good point,’ I say. Then I stand and walk to the wardrobe where my little blue dress is hanging.

  ‘Ta-da!’ I hold it up for Ed to see and a smirk crosses his face.

  ‘Nice. You going to model it for me, then?’

  I shake my head. ‘Not yet. You’ll have to wait.’

  ‘Oh, come on, get your kit off.’

  I swat him round the head.

  ‘Oi, what was that for?!’

  ‘Being a lecherous old perv.’

  He grins. ‘Fair enough.’

  Giggling, I lift a pillow high in the air and before he knows what’s going on I smash it down on the top of his head. The look on his face as he falls sideways onto the bed makes me laugh out loud. Then before he can react I grab the other pillow and hold it like a shield in front of me.

  ‘You little bugger.’ He picks up the first pillow from the floor and swipes it wildly round in front of him. But I turn and run into the living room, giggling like a child. I can hear Ed hot on my heels and I throw myself onto the sofa, kicking my legs in the air like an overturned woodlouse, trying to block Ed’s pillow smacks. ‘Get off!’ I laugh, gasping for air, and finally, defeated and exhausted, he stops whacking me with the pillow. I sit up, out of breath, and suddenly I’m flat on my back again and Ed’s pinning me down, my arms above my head. I can’t move. I look at Ed’s face and it’s suddenly serious. He’s watching me, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘I just can’t believe I nearly let you go.’ Ed’s voice is almost a whisper. ‘I love you so much, Zoe.’

  I pull my arm out from his grasp and stroke his cheek softly. ‘God, Ed, I love you too. I wish you knew how much.’ I stop for a minute and we stay like that, watching each other.

  ‘Can we promise never to be apart again?’ Ed’s voice is pleading.

  ‘You don’t know how much I want that to happen, I don’t think I could bear to be without you again.’ My voice cracks and he kisses me, then drops his head onto my chest. I breathe in the smell of his hair deeply, and the memory of his scent pulses through my body.

  The moment’s interrupted by a buzzing sound and Ed lifts his head.

  ‘Sorry,’ he says, and reaches into his pocket for his mobile. He glances at the
display and whispers ‘Mum,’ before standing and walking into the kitchen to answer the call.

  I take a moment to watch him through the glass panel of the door. He nods every now and then, the muscles in his neck bulging with the movement. He’s standing at the sink, looking out of the window at the houses and tiny gardens beyond, his phone pressed to his ear. Every now and then he grunts his agreement, but he doesn’t seem to be having much of a say in whatever his mum is discussing. I walk towards him and slip my arms around his waist, press my cheek into his warm back and breathe deeply.

  Now the excitement has passed I feel a knot of anxiety twisting inside me. I loved this day the first time round but this time I’m not sure how to do it. I can’t imagine standing in front of all those people, the people who love me, and lying to them. Pretending I’m something that I’m not, pretending to believe that everything will be OK. I’m sure I’m going to give myself away.

  The taxi’s waiting outside and I’m running around the house like a headless chicken, trying to find my mobile, my lip gloss, and get my shoes on. Ed’s ready, waiting impatiently by the front door.

  ‘Two minutes,’ he shouts out of the door, holding up two fingers to the taxi driver. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Sorry, Ed, I thought we had plenty of time. I just can’t seem to find anything.’ Or remember where I put things more than a year ago. Nothing’s quite where I expect it to be.

  But finally, I’m ready. The day has clouded over a bit but it’s still warm and I feel comfortable in my blue dress and heels. Ed looks gorgeous in his shirt, no tie, but cleanly shaven and hair tied back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. I love his hair this length and I think of the photo of this day I’ve looked at endlessly since he died: us in these outfits, looking happy, and I have to blink back the tears.

  I climb into the back of the cab and it sets off down the street. Ed clutches my hand and I relax back against the seat and stare out of the window, watching the world flash past. And before I know it we’re there, at Islington Town Hall, and I’m climbing out of the cab and I see Jane holding a man’s hand, and Becky and Greg with Gracie and Alfie and Mum and Dad, and Susan, and Rob.