‘Yeah, well, I’m the man and I should—’
‘Don’t give me that sexist bullshit. This isn’t the 1950s and you’re all for equality in every other sense. Why does it mean so much to you?’
‘Because. I feel that I should be able to… provide certain things.’
‘Things?’
Adam moves my hand. ‘Want a cuppa?’
‘No. I want to talk. Adam, please.’ I don’t know how long I have with him.
‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘We’re going to be a family soon. We need to learn to communicate.’
‘We talk.’
‘Not properly. Not like we used to. Remember when we met?’
We fall into silence. Both of us back on the beach.
It is me who speaks first. ‘What do you feel you aren’t providing, Adam?’
‘A baby.’ And there it is. Other things. The thing we never talked about. ‘I couldn’t get you pregnant—’
‘Because of my endometriosis. It wasn’t your fault.’
‘I still felt you blamed me.’
‘Why?’ My chest aches. How had I made him feel that way?
‘Because you were so snappy with me. Every month.’
‘I was… sad. Sad I wasn’t pregnant and feeling guilty that it was all my fault. I thought you blamed me.’
‘I didn’t. I felt… helpless. It all got so overwhelming. I just thought I was letting you down in so many other ways, what was the point? Painting a wall or digging a border in the garden wouldn’t change anything in the big scheme of things. It seemed so trivial. I can’t give you a baby but I’ve fixed the leaky tap.’ He waved jazz hands.
‘I wish you’d fix the leaky tap.’ I smile to show I’m joking. ‘I’m sorry, Adam. I genuinely am that you’ve been blaming yourself, feeling inadequate.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t realize it was how you were feeling too. I’ve been a bit of a knob.’
‘I’ve been a bit of a bitch.’
‘A bit?’ He raises his eyebrows. I nudge him with my shoulder.
‘At first I thought it would happen for us and when it didn’t…’ He is serious. ‘Every month… The disappointment turning to despair it wasn’t happening. Fear it would never happen and then suddenly so much time had passed it seemed odd to bring it up and because you’d never broached the subject either…’
‘I was afraid of what you might say. What you might think of me,’ I say quietly.
‘Same.’
Our fingers find each other.
‘Are we okay?’ he asks.
‘Yes. But we need to do this regularly. Talk. Not try to second-guess what the other is thinking. Let each other know what we need.’
‘I need you.’
I kiss him, my fingers sliding under his T-shirt. It feels… right. I find his belt buckles, the button of his jeans. Our kisses are hot, hard. My breath ragged. This… this is how I used to feel. Overcome with longing. With passion. This wasn’t a perfunctory task to be performed because the app tells us it’s the right time. We have already made a baby. This is because as he runs featherlight touches over my body, tracing the outline of my bra, I feel I might die if he doesn’t touch me properly. I feel the way I used to feel for him.
‘Adam,’ our faces are inches apart, ‘I want you. I want you to—’
But I don’t finish my sentence because suddenly there’s a searing pain in my head and Adam is slipping away.
Everything goes black.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Oliver
‘What went wrong?’ Eva asks. She studies Oliver intently. She’s sitting close to him. Oliver shifts away uncomfortably.
‘I’m not sure.’ Oliver runs his fingers over his beard. ‘A blip in the power supply perhaps. We’re checking everything over. Is Anna okay?’
‘She’s upset at being snatched away from Adam without warning and I don’t like the sound of her headache, and that nosebleed was nasty.’
‘I don’t know if the magnets and the processors are too strong in the scanner or if the addition of senses recognition to the VR goggles is just too much. She was checked over by Sofia though. She’s exhausted but fine physically. I mean is she okay… emotionally.’
‘She was… excited.’
‘Excited?’ Oliver thinks it’s an odd choice of word.
‘Excited that she was able to put into place some of the communication strategies we’d discussed.’
‘So that’s a good thing?’
‘It’s… odd.’
‘How so?’
‘This is Adam’s consciousness. Adam’s dream as it were. How can it be that he’s thinking of the exact same thing I’d just discussed with her that morning?’
‘The way they connect must give her a degree of influence and their bond means she is more of a participant than, say, I would be.’
‘Are you positive that’s what’s happening? That this is Adam’s consciousness, not Anna’s imagination?’
‘No, but then that’s the point of a clinical trial. To establish patterns. Facts.’
‘If it’s Adam’s thoughts, how did Anna start off alone in the bath, without him there?’
‘We all have thoughts and dreams featuring other people and we’re not always present. Anna often has a bath. Adam could easily recall that, recreate that. It was sweet the way she was talking to the baby.’
‘Yes, the baby. She’s getting too attached. As we spoke, her hands were over her stomach as if she is really pregnant. She’ll be devastated when her part in the trial is over. It will be like the trauma of miscarriage again.’
Oliver is silent for a moment. ‘I don’t think I understood the implications on an emotional level of allowing Anna to take part in the trial. It seems cruel now to have allowed her to connect to Adam, to be with him again on some level, and then send them both back to the UK without access to the equipment. I like her. I’m not as detached as I should be.’ He runs his hand over his beard. ‘Have I messed up? Caused her irreversible trauma?’
‘I don’t know. This isn’t exactly a scenario we covered in my training but I’m not convinced your invention is doing what it should.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think possibly Anna is imagining how she would like things to be. That she hasn’t really connected to Adam at all. She wants a baby more than anything, and suddenly she’s pregnant again.’
‘They both want a baby. Don’t forget, Adam is unaware of the miscarriage; it’s not too much of a reach to think that he—’
‘So you believe it’s working?’
‘I believe that Anna believes it. I think so. I hope so.’
‘But you can’t be sure?’
Oliver removes his glasses and rubs his eyes. ‘No, I can’t be certain. I still can’t get the computer to record for a start. It’s one thing to capture still images from a person’s mind but the computer can’t cope with images that move at lightning speed the way the subconscious plays things out. I should have done the trial myself and then there’d be no question as to whether it was a success or not. But…’ He sighed and slipped his glasses back on.
‘Clem,’ Eva said softly.
‘I remember what it’s like. That waiting. Wondering. Anna reminds me a little of Clem. A little of myself. That makes it harder now.’
‘How so?’
‘Anna thinks she’s seen something amazing and I have to be the one to take that away from her.’ There’s a burning behind his eyes. He has approached this so very wrongly. He looks to Eva for answers but she doesn’t speak. ‘I think we need to stop. Figure out why the computer isn’t recording. Sofia is actively seeking out another suitable candidate. There’s a woman in St Barnabas’s Hospital we think is ideal. I’m going to talk to her next of kin. I’ll be the one taking part in the trial with the next participant.’
‘What about Anna?’
‘She’s going to take it hard.’
‘Of course, but it isn’t fair to let her carry on
if it isn’t working. It’s a form of delusion almost.’ Eva taps her pen against her clipboard. ‘But then it doesn’t seem fair to pull her out of it, if it is working.’
‘That leaves us in a quandary. There’s no definitive way of knowing at this stage.’
‘Yes, there is. You’ll have to do the trial, Oliver. With Adam.’
Oliver pushes his glasses. ‘Even though Anna is against it?’
‘Especially because Anna is against it. Why doesn’t she want you to try it, Oliver? On some level does she know it’s all in her head?’
Oliver mulls this over. ‘You’re right. I’m going to give it a go myself. Let’s find out, one way or the other, whether it’s working the way Anna says it is.’
‘And if it isn’t?’ Eva asks.
It pains Oliver to say it. ‘I’ll have to send them both home.’
Chapter Forty-Nine
Anna
‘No.’ I can’t believe what I am hearing. ‘I told you that I don’t want you connecting to Adam yet, Oliver. I won’t give you my consent.’
‘Anna, after yesterday, I can’t let you try this again.’
‘I’m fine. It was a shock coming back without hearing you count down but I’m okay. The headaches aren’t getting any worse.’ They are but I’m not going to tell him.
‘I don’t believe you. You keep holding your head. Something is wrong.’
‘Other than my husband only having a 3 per cent chance of survival?’ I struggle to gain my composure. ‘Look. This means so much to me, Oliver. More than you know.’ Adam and I can have the relationship I always wanted, a three, not a two. Open and honest. Sharing our feelings. I won’t back down. ‘You owe me. If I hadn’t come here, you’d still be congratulating yourself for having designed something on paper that you had no idea would work in the real world.’
‘It’s a bit more technical than that—’
‘I don’t care about the technicalities. The design process. All of your facts and figures. I care about my husband.’ I lower my voice. ‘I need to be with him.’
‘I… I’m not sure you are actually with him.’ Oliver pushes his glasses up once more. ‘What you’re seeing, describing is…’ He rubs at his beard while I wait, wishing he’d hurry up. Wanting to shake the words out of him. ‘It’s possible that it’s not… not Adam’s consciousness but your own projections. The things—’
‘Everything I have told you is true.’
‘But I haven’t been able to see them for myself.’
‘I know that.’ He’s not telling me anything new. ‘That’s why I remember everything and tell you everything.’ My hands stray to my stomach. ‘I’ve held nothing back.’
‘Anna, the thing is, without being able to record where the images you describe are coming from, there’s no guarantee they are from Adam. You share the same life, you want the same things.’ Oliver studies me while I process this. ‘The only way to tell if it’s working is for somebody else—’
‘Absolutely not.’ I shake my head furiously. ‘No one else is delving around inside my husband’s mind. The things I’m seeing, feeling, they’re Adam’s thoughts. I know they are.’
Oliver leans back. Nudges his glasses, which are slipping down his nose again. I want to rip them off his worried face and smash them. I take a breath. Force myself to calm down.
‘It is working.’ I am fighting back tears. ‘I won’t give you permission to connect to him yet.’
‘Anna…’
‘If you want to carry on, you’ll have to use me again.’ I know he doesn’t want to give up. ‘It’s not like you have anyone else if I take Adam away, is it?’
There’s a pause. Another nervous rub of his beard. ‘I told you there would be numerous participants; we can’t base our findings purely on Adam.’
‘But…’ I feel sick with panic. ‘You don’t have anyone else yet, do you?’
‘Not yet, no. But you need to be aware it’s something we’re working towards. You being here, doing this, it isn’t a long-term plan, Anna. You knew this.’
‘But…’ I glance at Sofia; she can’t meet my eye.
‘I’ve always said that after we’ve collected the results that we need, I’d cover the costs of flying you home, pay for Adam to be assessed by a private doctor in the UK.’
‘Fine.’ Anger has dried my tears. ‘Do you want us to leave now or do you want to carry on and let me try one more time?’ My heart thuds. I call his bluff.
It works.
Soon, my fingers are laced through Adam’s. Oliver begins counting backwards. I’m not as tense as the first couple of times, expecting again to effortlessly slip back into my life, into my home. I feel myself falling, falling and I wait.
Instead of the slight dizziness and disorientation I felt before as Oliver reaches the count of one, pain rips through me.
Pain like I’ve never experienced before.
Chapter Fifty
Oliver
Oliver is disappointed in himself that his desire to carry on with the trial has overridden his resolve that he should be the one taking part this time. Despite his assurances that it was a power failure last time that had wrenched Anna back too early, what if it wasn’t a one-off blip? Oliver isn’t convinced this is safe. He is nervous about what experience she might have this time. He watches her carefully as he counts down. Sees the way her feet jerk as he reaches one. He hears her breath through his mic, it’s fast.
Too fast.
Chapter Fifty-One
Anna
The tidal wave of pain slams into me once more. I screw my eyes tightly closed while I grapple with my brain to lift my arm. Oliver needs to bring me back. Something is wrong.
Very wrong.
‘We need to get you to hospital.’ Adam’s voice reaches me. I try to tell him we’re already in the hospital but the pain comes again, snatching my breath away. ‘Fuck.’ I can sense his panic. ‘The contractions are getting closer together. Let’s go or you’ll be giving birth in the car.’
I open my eyes. I am sitting on the stairs at home. Adam swims in and out of focus but his presence calms me, my breathing levelling out.
‘Are we… We’re having a baby?’ I ask.
‘We sure are. Your maternity bag is in the car. Are you okay to walk?’ He supports my weight.
‘But… but I’m not ready.’ It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
‘You’ve had nine months to get ready. Little Gregg is coming, whether you like it or not.’
‘We’re not naming our son after a bloody sausage roll.’ I grit my teeth, shuffling out of the front door.
‘Better than after a boy wizard who had a pet owl,’ he smiles. Another contraction grips me and I want to wipe the smile off his stupid face. I want to cover his stupid face with kisses.
We’re having a baby!
At the hospital we’re settled in our room and introduced to Helen, our midwife. She reads my birth plan, smiles and tells me to just ask if I change my mind about drugs.
‘I’ll come and check on you in a bit,’ she says.
‘Wait. What? You can’t leave me.’ Panic is thick and heavy in the room – mine, Adam’s.
‘You’ve got a while yet, don’t worry. Press the buzzer if you need anything.’ And then she is gone.
‘We’ll be okay,’ Adam says uncertainly. ‘I’ve got something for you.’
He rummages through his rucksack and brings out a Tupperware of sandwiches and cartons of my favourite pineapple juice. He roots around again and I hope he doesn’t pull out a camera, but when he turns back to me, he has a purple velvet pouch in his hand. Inside, a silver pram charm dangles from a delicate chain.
‘The charm was handmade by the little shop by the cove in Alircia. I bought it the morning after you told me you were pregnant.’
The day of the yacht accident. I’m too overcome to speak.
Worried, he carries on talking, ‘I had seen the charms when I bought the love lock. When you told me we were having a ba
by, I knew I had to go back and get a baby-themed one. Give it to you when little one decided to make an appearance. Do you like it?’
I nod, the lump in my throat still keeping my words contained, but I like it. I like it very much.
The night seems endless. Oliver’s words sometimes drift into my mind that the subconscious can stretch time. That thirty minutes can feel like an eternity but still, I am exhausted, wracked with pain. My head is swimming from the gas and air I have been sucking on. I’d refused all other drugs, knowing they can slow down the process and I’m longing for the labour to be over. The fear that Oliver might bring me back before I have met my child leads me to grip Adam’s fingers tightly, grit my teeth and push.
‘Not yet,’ Adam says. ‘The midwife says…’
‘I don’t fucking care what Helen says.’ I cannot stand this pain a second longer. ‘And you can fuck off too.’ I shake my hand free of his, and when he tries to take my hand once more, I slap him away, before grabbing his wrist. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me.’
‘I can hardly drive home.’ He cradles his hand. ‘I think you’ve broken my—’
‘Are you kidding me?’
He gingerly flexes his fingers. ‘It really hurts, Anna.’
‘Adam!’ Our eyes meet and simultaneously there is a lull in the pain and I find myself laughing. I take another suck from the gas and air, this time for kicks.
‘Can I have some of that?’ he asks. I pass the tube over to him. He takes a deep breath in and a smile stretches across his face.
‘Wow. That’s some good shit right there. Are you sure you’re not dragging this out so you—’
‘I’ll get someone to drag you out in a minute.’ I take back the mouthpiece and draw another lungful. ‘Josh would love this.’
‘Don’t tell him. He’ll be getting some poor woman knocked up just for the legal high.’
‘Do you think he still carries a torch for Nell?’
‘Yeah.’ Adam mops my forehead with a damp towel. ‘You know, when he first met you, I think he thought he was in with a chance.’
‘Really?’
‘Don’t you remember the way he kissed your hand when you were introduced? A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Smarmy git.’
The Life We Almost Had Page 21
