Before You Go Page 25

  ‘What are you grinning about?’

  ‘Oh, nothing. Just – well, it’s a lovely day, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. Lovely.’ Ed gives me a quizzical look, then turns and stares out of the window some more.

  It takes more than an hour to do the fifteen-mile journey with the odd shouted direction from Ed, but finally we’re there. ‘This is it, just here on the right.’ Ed points at a white truck that’s already parked half on the pavement and I squeeze into a space behind it and switch off the engine.

  ‘Thanks for the lift. Hope you’re not too late for work.’

  ‘You’re still coming home early though, aren’t you?’ My voice wavers at the thought of leaving him here.

  ‘Yes, I’ll get out somehow. I’ll get the train home, though, OK?’

  I nod. I can feel tears building and I don’t want Ed to see them. ‘OK.’

  ‘See you later, then.’ And he’s out of the car and walking up the garden path. He’s gone.

  The tears are falling down my cheeks now but I need to get away so I pull out into the road. A horn blares loudly and there’s a screech of brakes, then a car pulls past, its driver shouting through the open window.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say, weakly, holding my hand up.

  I drive home, hardly noticing the traffic, the people, the heat. I park the car back outside the house, grab my bag from the passenger seat and walk to the Tube station.

  And standing on the Tube on the way to work that sticky June morning, I stare mindlessly at the adverts above people’s heads as I swing to the rhythm of the train.

  I can only hope I’ve done enough to stop Ed dying.

  When I get to my desk – two hours late – my boss, Olive, is waiting for me. She taps her watch and points to the meeting room on the other side of the open-plan office. ‘Zoe, you’re needed,’ she says. ‘Sorry,’ I mumble, throwing her a half-smile and grabbing a notebook and biro and practically running across the room.

  Finally, the meeting’s over. I haven’t heard a word; all I can think about is last time I sat through this meeting, and what happened afterwards. The police officers, the silence, the hospital . . .

  I race to the kitchen and switch the kettle on, staring out of the window at the street several storeys below as I wait for it to boil. I watch people scuttling about in the heat of the day and I think about Ed, outside in the sunshine on the other side of the city, working up a sweat, and thinking about leaving work early to come and see me.

  Hopefully.

  The kettle boils and snaps off and I splash the steaming water into the cup of instant coffee powder. I give it a perfunctory stir, tap the teaspoon on the edge of the cup and turn to walk back into the office. But when I get back to my desk I stop. Olive is standing there, her face serious, and my heart crashes to the floor.

  Oh God, it’s happening all over again.

  ‘Nooo,’ I groan, sinking to my knees, hot coffee splashing all over the worn carpet. I can’t hear anything, I can’t think about anything else and, even though I knew this day had to come, I realize that there was always a part of me that had a spark of hope.

  Now that spark has gone out.

  Through the white noise rushing in my ears I hear Olive’s voice, coming to me as though from miles away.

  ‘Zoe, Zoe, what’s the matter?’

  She’s shaking my shoulder roughly and I lift my head to look at her. She’s frowning, her face filled with concern, but I can’t speak. I don’t want to hear the words she has to say.

  ‘Don’t,’ I whisper, holding my hands over my ears.

  ‘Zoe,’ she says, more urgently this time. ‘Are you ill? What’s happened?’

  I say nothing. But as I crouch in the middle of the floor, Olive’s words start to seep into my consciousness and I look up again. She keeps asking me if I’m ill, over and over again. And if – I hardly dare think this – but if she doesn’t have the news for me that I think she does, then my behaviour would make it look as though I were ill.

  I stop sobbing and take my hands from my ears and for the first time I properly listen to her words.

  ‘Zoe, come with me,’ she says, slowly pulling me to my feet again. She guides me to the meeting room I’ve just come from and closes the door firmly behind her.

  ‘Sit down,’ she says, gesturing to the chair next to her, taking one herself. ‘Please.’

  I pull the chair out and perch nervously on the edge of it. My hands have started to shake and I try to hold them still in my lap.

  ‘Zoe,’ she says, her voice serious. I hold my breath, waiting for her next words. But the expected words don’t come.

  ‘I’m worried about you. What on earth was all that about? You looked as though you’d seen a ghost and then you just collapsed.’

  I look down at my hands. What can I say? That I thought she was going to tell me Ed was dead because that’s what happened last time, and I couldn’t bear to hear her say the words? Of course not. So instead I just shrug.

  A gentle knock on the door breaks the silence and someone pops their head round it. I don’t see who it is but Olive shakes her head almost imperceptibly and the door shuts again, leaving us in silence. It’s my turn to speak.

  ‘I . . .’ I stammer, unsure what to say. ‘I’m OK, honestly. I’m really sorry about that, I just . . . I don’t know, you looked as though you had bad news.’ It sounds lame but it’s the best I can do. Olive frowns.

  ‘Far from it,’ she says.

  I look at her, surprised.

  ‘I was actually coming to tell you something really exciting,’ she continues. For the first time I notice she has a pink folder in her hands, the one I handed in a few days before with ideas for a pitch. I watch as she gently places the folder on the table and opens it.

  ‘It’s about this.’ I wait expectantly. ‘The client loves it and they want to use your ideas – which means you’ll be heading up the campaign.’

  She’s watching me, waiting for a response. I know I should be thrilled that this has been successful; I’ve worked hard on it, been working late most nights to get it right. I should be dancing round the office. But the only thing I’m really interested in hearing is that Ed is OK; that he’s still alive, and that I’ve saved him. By comparison, this seems unimportant and irrelevant.

  ‘Oh, that’s great!’ I say, painting a smile on my face.

  Olive frowns.

  ‘You don’t seem quite as excited as I thought you’d be. Are you absolutely sure everything’s OK?’

  I nod. ‘Really, I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I just had a funny five minutes, that’s all. Bloody hormones.’ I attempt another smile but it falls flat.

  ‘Okaaay.’ Olive’s not convinced but she leaves it for now and I’m relieved. Instead she turns back to the folder.

  ‘Obviously we’ll need to talk it through in some detail, but basically they love your idea and want to run with it with almost immediate effect. Will that be OK with – you know, everything?’

  I’ve had so much time off for treatment I’ve had to tell her some of what’s been going on, and I nod, grateful for her concern.

  ‘Yes, no problem.’

  ‘Great. Well, let’s get together first thing tomorrow and go over the details. How does that sound?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  Olive stands, shuffles the papers back into the folder and walks to the door. As she leaves she turns. ‘Zoe? Take care of yourself, promise?’

  I nod, trying not to cry. ‘I will.’ It comes out as a whisper and I cough to cover it.

  The door closes behind her and I sit there for a few minutes, part of me desperately wanting to ring Ed and find out if he’s OK, the other part of me not wanting to know, and to stay in this moment, where, as far as I know, he’s alive and safe.

  I take a deep breath and walk out of the room and across the office back to my desk, ignoring the curious looks shooting my way. I check my mobile but there are no messages. I don’t know whether this is good or bad. I c
ompose a message to Ed but don’t send it. Waiting for him to reply would be worse than not having sent the message at all.

  Suddenly Olive is at my shoulder again and my heart lurches. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take today. She crouches down.

  ‘I think you should take the rest of the day off. You’ve been working so hard recently, and things are going to get even more hectic. I think you just need a rest. Go on, go home.’

  I don’t need to be told twice. I stand, shove my phone in my bag and grab my cardigan from the back of the chair.

  ‘Thanks, Olive.’ I kiss her on the cheek and she blushes.

  ‘Just make sure you do rest and come in bright and early and ready to go tomorrow morning,’ she says, smiling.

  ‘Will do, promise.’

  I almost race out of the office, retracing my steps towards home. On the Tube I think about the horror I felt when I saw Olive standing there, and my skin prickles. I can’t let it happen again. I just can’t.

  I exit the Tube station and hurry along the road to our flat. The pavements are hot and sticky and the sun beats down on my head, making me sweat. I grab my hair in a handful and shove it roughly into a ponytail and the air on the back of my neck feels like a sweet relief. At this time of day, just before lunch on a Wednesday, it’s peaceful here, and I savour the moment, listening to the rumble of cars and the flap, flap, flap of my sandals as I walk.

  Suddenly the silence is shattered by a loud ringing and it takes me a few seconds to realize it’s my phone. I dip my hand into my bag to find it and squint at the display.

  ‘Ed!’

  ‘Hey,’ he says, and I have to sit on a wall to stop myself falling over with relief.

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m at work, but I’m just ringing to say I can get off early and I’ll be leaving in about an hour – so we’ll have all afternoon together.’

  ‘Brilliant.’

  ‘When can you get off?’

  ‘I’m nearly home. I got some good news about work and Olive gave me the rest of the day off.’

  ‘Great. Tell me all about it when I get home. See you soon, OK?’

  ‘OK. And Ed?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘How are you getting home?’

  ‘Train, I suppose. The buses are rubbish from here.’

  ‘I’ll come and get you.’ The words are out before I’ve really even given them any thought, but I know as soon as I’ve said them that it’s the right thing to do; if I have to drive across London in the blistering heat to keep Ed safe, then that’s what I’ll do.

  ‘What? Don’t be silly, it’ll be quicker on the train.’

  ‘Maybe, but let me. I want to. Please?’

  ‘Well, OK, then.’ I can hear the uncertainty in his voice but I don’t care if he thinks I’ve gone mad.

  ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can. And Ed?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I love you more than anything.’

  ‘I love you too. See you soon.’

  The phone goes dead and I stand and hurry home to get the car. By the time I climb in I’m sweaty and out of breath but I don’t care. I just need to get there, and bring him home. I could tell from Ed’s voice that he was wondering what was wrong with me today, that he didn’t have a clue why it was so important to me to come and get him. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is keeping him safe. And who knows, maybe one day, if I can get him through this day alive, I’ll be able to explain some of this to him. But for now, he’s just going to have to trust me.

  The traffic’s heavy and it’s almost ninety minutes later that I pull up outside the house where I dropped Ed off this morning. I’d been expecting to see him waiting for me, but there’s no sign of him. The knot in my chest has tightened and is creeping up into my throat so that I feel as though I’m choking.

  ‘Don’t be silly, he’s probably still in the garden,’ I tell myself. But I can’t seem to block out the nagging voice, so I almost abandon the car on a yellow line and run up the path, my eyes swivelling wildly from left to right. But I still can’t see him anywhere and I can feel my heart beating too fast in my chest; combined with the heat it’s making me feel panicky and dizzy and I have to stop and rest my hands on my thighs.

  ‘Zoe?’

  It’s only one word but it makes me gasp as I stand and whip my head round. And there he is, my Ed, his familiar shape loping down the path in his cut-off shorts and T-shirt. He looks tanned and healthy, just the same as he did this morning, and my heart soars. It’s hard to believe that this was how he looked when he was knocked down and killed the first time round. He seems so – alive.

  And this time, he is.

  I watch with shaking legs as he gets closer; then he smiles at me and I run at him, almost knocking him over with the impact. I throw my arms around his neck and cling to him, my tears mingling with his sweat as I swear never ever to let go.

  ‘Hey, what’s this? What’s wrong?’ His voice is muffled in my hair but I don’t loosen my grip. I hold on tightly and breathe in his scent, feel the warmth of his skin on mine, feel his heart beating in his chest. I can’t believe that, after everything that’s happened over the last few days, weeks, years, however long I’ve lived through, I’ve done it.

  I’ve saved him.

  Finally, I pull away. Ed’s face is serious, confused. I wipe my face with the back of my hand and sniff. I must look a state.

  ‘Sorry.’

  Ed tips his head quizzically. ‘What’s going on, Zo? You didn’t want me to leave this morning. I’ve only been gone a few hours and now you’re behaving as though you haven’t seen me for years. I’m confused.’

  I shrug.

  ‘I just missed you.’ It’s pathetically inadequate, but it’s all I have.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  I nod mutely, sniffing again.

  He stays silent for a moment, studying me, and my face burns under his gaze. Finally he seems satisfied, and walks towards the car.

  ‘I’m sweating like a pig. Let’s get home.’ He walks towards the car and as he passes me he takes my chin gently in his hand. My whole body shivers. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

  ‘I’m fine. Really.’ My voice is a squeak, but I hope he doesn’t notice. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  The drive home is quiet, the hum of the radio in the background taking up the space between us. There’s so much I want to say to Ed that it’s overwhelming me and I don’t know where to start. Instead I think back through the days I’ve relived, through the things I’ve tried to change. Nothing had seemed to work up to now, but I can only think it was all leading up to this day. This was the day I needed to change.

  I glance at the clock. Three o’clock. Last time, Ed was dead by now.

  This was my chance to save Ed’s life. And I’ve done it.

  A shiver runs through me and I will my heart to slow down. The sun beats through the windscreen, making me sweat, and I try to still my shaking hands.

  Finally, we pull up outside our flat. As we let ourselves into the cool hallway, I try to behave like everything’s normal and take a deep breath.

  ‘I need a shower. Want to go first?’

  Ed nods. ‘If you don’t mind. I’m filthy.’ He shows me his hands which are covered with dust, mud packed tightly under his nails.

  I nod.

  ‘Thanks, sweetheart. See you in a bit.’ Then he pecks me on the nose and heads to the bathroom, shedding his clothes as he goes. Moments later I hear the gush of water as Ed starts the shower, and I finally allow the tension to drain from my body. I feel as though I’m going to pass out, so I sit on the sofa, letting my head tilt back, and sigh deeply.

  I blink back tears and close my eyes, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming me.

  ‘Hey.’ Ed’s voice beside me makes me jump and I sit up quickly. He’s dressed, his hair still wet from the shower, droplets of water sliding down his neck and gathering at his collarbone. I imagine licking them off.

&
nbsp; He kisses me and smiles. ‘I’m glad to be home.’

  ‘Me too.’

  A moment of silence. ‘So what was your good news?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your good news, at work?’

  I’d forgotten all about it. ‘Oh, yes. I got a new contract, the one I’ve been working on. Olive wants me to head it up and – well, it’ll mean a lot more work.’

  ‘That’s great news. I knew you could do it. You’re such a clever girl.’

  I smile weakly.

  ‘You don’t seem very happy about it.’

  ‘I am. I’m just – sorry, I’ve got a lot on my mind.’

  ‘Care to share it?’

  I shake my head. ‘No, it’s fine. It’s just work stuff.’

  ‘OK.’ Ed shrugs and moves to stand. Then I have a sudden flash of inspiration. Something that feels worth talking about, now I know it could make a difference. I blurt it out without preamble.

  ‘I think we should stop the IVF.’

  Ed stops, sits back. ‘What?’

  ‘I think we should stop. It’s ruined enough of our lives. I’d rather be with you, with no baby, than be without you. It’s time to stop.’

  ‘Wow.’ Ed looks at me then down at the floorboards. ‘I didn’t see this coming.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about it for a while.’

  Ed nods. ‘I see. So this is why you’ve been so weird today.’ I’m happy to let him think that. He turns to face me. ‘I have to say I’m pretty shocked, Zo. I mean – this is what you’ve wanted for the last – I don’t know, few years.’

  I shrug. ‘I know. It was. But it’s ruined everything, Ed, and I just think it’s time we stopped. I’ve had enough.’

  ‘Wow,’ he says again. He stares at the fireplace for a few minutes and I wonder whether he’s going to say anything else. Then he turns to me. ‘Zoe, I have to be honest: I’m so glad you’ve said that. I mean, I’d love to have a baby with you and the thought of us never having one makes my heart hurt. But you’re right, this can’t go on. It’s tearing us apart and I can’t lose you. But are you absolutely sure? I mean, I know you are right now, but do you really think this is a decision you’re going to be happy with for the rest of your life, just being the two of us?’