Page 37 of The Girlfriend

I LOVE MY SON . THAT WAS ALL THAT COUNTED.

IT DIDN’T MATTER THAT she was about to do something heinous.

An opportunity had been granted to her, a beacon of light through the devastating last few months, and Laura knew she had to take that opportunity.

She’d agonized over it for hours; but now that the decision was final, she felt a wave of terror at what she had to say.

The words that were going to break her into pieces.

This was the first time. She briefly considered rehearsing it, but the words—the word—wouldn’t form properly in her head.

Her instinct was to bat it away violently.

Crossing to the sink in the en suite bathroom, just off the private room at the hospital, she looked at herself in the mirror hanging above.

A brief check that her soul was still intact through her worn blue eyes reassured her further.

No flashing green irises, no demon-like pinhole pupils.

She looked more tired though, and she was shocked to see how much she’d aged.

There were more lines around her eyes and mouth.

There was also a sadness, a haunting despair that she had desperately tried to keep at bay with this new expensive hospital, the best doctors she could find, and brittle hope.

For a moment, she forgot what she was about to do and thought only about what was soon to happen.

The heartbreak was a physical force that made her double over, clutching the sink.

After a few seconds, she stood. Nothing had changed.

Cherry was back today. Laura had checked and the flights from Mexico usually arrived at Heathrow early in the morning. She looked at her watch. Maybe she’d be back in her flat in Tooting by now.

A lump formed in her throat as she held her phone, but she swallowed hard. She had to get this right. Any mother would do the same, she reminded herself again and again, a mantra to get her through it.

She dialed the number carefully. She went cold, then clammy, in alternative waves, buffeted around by her agony.

Her life was soon to end. The life that had meaning.

Holding the phone with two hands, trying to stop their shaking, she waited for the rings in her ear to be terminated.

At last, they stopped and the voice that answered sounded curious, unknowing.

No wonder, as Laura had never rung her before and her number wouldn’t be recognized.

“Hello?”

“Is that Cherry?”

“Speaking.”

“Cherry, it’s Laura Cavendish.”

There was a brief silence while Laura knew that Cherry was running through her brain, trying to work out why she was calling.

“Cherry, I’m afraid I’m ringing with some bad news.... Daniel died a few days ago.” Oh, God, it hurt, it hurt. She squeezed her eyes tightly, but it didn’t stop the flow of tears.

There was a stunned silence from the other end of the phone; then: “What?”

“He had a heart attack—one of several, actually—and he was admitted back to the Chelsea and Westminster. They were unable to save him.”

More silence.

“I know it’s a lot to take in. . . .”

“Why didn’t you call me? ”

“I know you wanted to get away for some rest . . . and it didn’t seem fair, you’d only just gone away. I’m sorry, it was a difficult decision, but I thought it best.”

“I see.” It was the statement of someone who didn’t know what to say, who still hadn’t fully processed what she was being told.

Laura caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. The anguish it showed on her face was real. Her heart was hammering; she just wanted it to be over.

“When’s the funeral?”

Laura felt her chest tighten in apprehension. “We’ve already had it. It was family only.”

If she could’ve seen Cherry’s face at that moment, she might have given herself away with guilt. The ultimate banishment from Daniel’s life had hurt Cherry badly.

When she put the phone down, she felt empty.

No relief, no gleeful triumph at having got Cherry off her back.

But she also felt a kind of peace. Now she could go and say good-bye to Daniel.

The doctors didn’t know when his last moment might be, and she didn’t want it to take them by surprise, before she’d said all she wanted to say to him.

She took a moment to compose herself and splashed some cold water on her face.

Then she opened the bathroom door and went back into his room, where he lay on the bed in the same position he’d been in the last few months.

She was alone with him for a couple of hours, as Howard had gone home to get some fresh clothes.

She pulled up a chair and, looking out the window, saw that it was one of those early-spring days that was a kindness from nature, an unexpected gift.

She suddenly wanted Daniel to have it too and she opened the window.

The air that came in was fresh, but not cold, full of life, and she could hear birds singing.

She sat back down again and held his hand.

“It’s a lovely day.” She couldn’t manage any more and stroked his hair to give herself a moment, thinking she had to do better than this or she’d ruin it.

Now was not the time to fall apart. She tried again.

“Just in case I don’t get the chance to say this to you later, in case—” She stopped abruptly.

She’d been about to say, “in case you have to leave suddenly,” but something had stopped her, some maternal protective mechanism.

She’d thought long and hard over the last few months about whether Daniel could hear what was being said to him and she thought—hoped—he did.

She’d been about to tell him about all their memories, everything that she loved about him, but knew now that she couldn’t.

What if he didn’t know he was dying, but could hear everything she said?

Laura shuddered in horror. He’d be stuck, listening to the end of his life being pronounced, but not able to communicate, to ask for comfort. It would be like being buried alive.

She climbed awkwardly onto his bed and gently laid her cheek next to his, being careful not to dislodge any of the plastic tubes taped to various parts of him.

Then she took his hand. In her head, she relived two memories.

One was of a baby girl, a perfect little person with blue eyes and fair hair who’d died in her arms, just a few days after she’d been born.

The other was of an equally perfect little boy, who when he was small would wake and climb into her bed with his toy monkey, snuggling up to her and sharing one of the monkey’s ears, the softest, most treasured part of the toy with her.

They would lie there, warm and close, whispering secrets to one another.

“Daniel, I hope you’re not scared, not of anything, because you don’t need to be. I’m here, I always will be, no matter what. And I’m staying now until . . . until . . . I’m staying.”