Don't Look Back

by S. B. Hayes

  James’s mood didn’t pick up. As I hugged him he was feverish and trembling.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sinead. It shouldn’t have to end like this.’

  I gently prodded him in rebuke. ‘Nothing’s ending. This is the beginning for us.’

  He didn’t appear to be listening. ‘You’re the answer to my prayers, Sinead, to fall in love before –’ He broke off.

  ‘You’re the only thing that matters to me,’ I said truthfully. ‘I spent all day wandering the estate and realized there was nothing else in the world I really care about but you.’

  James seemed deeply affected by these words. He covered his face. ‘Don’t say that, please.’

  I prised his fingers away and held his head, forcing him to look at me. ‘You told me once there were places I couldn’t follow you, but there aren’t. There’s nowhere I won’t go to be with you. Do you believe me?’

  James looked deep into my eyes and nodded, but I couldn’t see any happiness there and I wondered why his feelings were in such turmoil. As the night drew in we lapsed into silence. His breathing became more regular and his trembling calmed. The dying sun cast a red and orange glow that was reflected in his eyes. Mine filled with tears again, without knowing why. We stayed there until the light had faded and the black umbrella of night covered us. I couldn’t see any stars and the moon was hiding, translucent, behind a cloud. The wood looked different somehow, full of dark shapes, the trees bent and twisted. At night the smells were more pungent and a little overpowering. We came upon the weeping willow and I stopped dead.

  ‘Look at Orpheus,’ I said, squeezing James’s arm.

  The statue was out of the shade, the sweeping fronds now behind him. The clouds stole silently across the sky, revealing the moon at that very moment. It lit up the statue, which glowed like phosphorous, illuminating the crisscross of deep veins.

  ‘The white knight,’ James cried.

  His face was stricken with horror and he fell to the ground, his arms grasping smooth cold marble.

  Thirty

  I tried to calm him, but his chest was heaving and his speech rapid. ‘Dad wanted me to shoot, Sinead, to put the hare out of its misery … the noise was terrible, it sounded human. I should act like a man and stop crying, stop hiding behind my mother’s apron.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I murmured, stroking his hair. ‘He was a bully, but he can’t hurt you any more.’

  ‘Real men knew how to kill. It was time to grow up, time to be like him … I pulled the trigger –’

  ‘You only did it because you were forced to, James. You mustn’t feel guilty.’

  ‘Orpheus was covered in blood and so was I –’

  ‘It was a kindness. Your father would have killed the hare himself – it must have been suffering.’

  He pressed his hands either side of my face, his eyes rolling wildly. ‘You don’t understand, Sinead. You don’t understand. I was covered in his blood! I didn’t mean to … but I turned the gun on him.’

  I shook myself free. ‘No, James. You just think you did. You wanted to and you’ve imagined you did. That’s not true, it can’t be true –’

  He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I did do it. I know I did. I can see him now lying on the ground, and then Cerberus went for my throat. Mum had to beat him with a stick to get him off me.’

  My eyes were huge with horror and disbelief. ‘But what happened after? What did your mum do?’

  ‘I don’t know. I must have blacked out … Mum tried to convince me it hadn’t happened … she told me Dad had walked out after a row. She’s been telling me lies ever since, inventing a perfect father for me …’

  His words were slowly sinking in, and I knew that what he was remembering was the truth. ‘James, you weren’t responsible, you were just a boy—’

  ‘I killed my father, Sinead, I killed my father.’

  He repeated this until I put my finger across his lips.

  I stroked his cheek with the back of my hand and cradled him in my arms until his terrible outpouring gradually dried up. I was staggered by his revelation, but it didn’t change my feelings for him. Not one bit. Not for one second. He was a beautiful, sensitive person who’d been driven to do something so awful it was impossible to comprehend. No wonder he’d looked so haunted and full of sorrow. I was determined to help him find a way to live with what he’d done. If it took forever I’d make him realize he wasn’t guilty.

  James struggled to stay awake but he was exhausted and his eyes simply wouldn’t stay open. It took all my effort to persuade him to stop fighting and give in.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, before finally succumbing to sleep. ‘Don’t think too badly of me, Sinead. I tried so hard not to love you … for your sake … but it wasn’t possible.’

  We lay so closely together that our bodies seemed fused. There was nowhere else I wanted to be but here, on a soft bed of leaves, wrapped around James. He stirred and I pulled him closer. He was restful now, but his revelation seemed to have brought on my own episode of soul-searching. My trial was almost at an end. Sister Catherine had promised me answers, and I was finally going to catch up with Patrick. James’s love would set me free, and together we could face anything. I finally had a future. I stroked James’s hair, revelling in a new-found peace and contentment. Sleep came easily.

  It was pitch dark. I flinched – something must have woken me. A snowy owl in the branches of a large oak was staring directly at me. Then it launched itself into the air and swooped noiselessly at something on the ground, talons extended. I marvelled at the awesome wingspan and the beauty of its flight, but my admiration was tinged with sadness, trying not to contemplate its prey. There was a crick in my neck and it was impossible to move without disturbing James. But I could still feel his skin next to mine and was relieved to find that his temperature was much cooler. Without any effort I dozed again.

  *

  ‘James?’

  It was first light and my arm was completely numb. We’d slept all night, but I needed to get up and stretch. I laughed as I tried to escape from his embrace and found it impossible. I shook him.

  ‘James? Wake up.’

  He was in an unbelievably deep sleep and I still wasn’t able to move him or to see his face properly. My free hand could caress his cheek though, and there was no hint of fever or the awful clamminess of last night. My fingers moved to his lips, sketching their outline, willing him to roll over and kiss me. He didn’t react and I put my hand across his mouth to feel his warm breath. My heart began to thunder in my chest.

  Within seconds I managed to free myself and crouch over James’s body. He was lying on his back and there was a pulse, but it was so faint that my fingers had to press hard to detect anything. His face was the colour of chalk and his lips already bluish. I had to get air into his lungs, but I was so nervous that it took me three attempts to begin resuscitation. All my instincts had frozen and I had to distance myself and pretend that this wasn’t James; pretend I was still practising on a dummy. If I thought about how much I loved him, I’d be useless. A faint colour returned to his cheeks and his eyes flickered open. The relief was so intense that I broke into hysterical laughter or it might have been crying, I wasn’t sure.

  ‘You gave me such a fright. You were hardly breathing.’

  He was groggy and confused, which was entirely natural, but there was something in his eyes that made my heart beat even faster. He looked almost disappointed, as if he wasn’t glad to be alive.

  ‘James? Say something.’

  His gaze dropped. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he muttered at last, but it wasn’t clear what he was apologizing for.

  My voice was as authoritative as I could manage. ‘You need to go to hospital.’

  I took out my phone to dial the emergency services, but James’s hand wrapped around my wrist and squeezed tightly. ‘If you love me at all, don’t do that.’

  ‘You’re not making any sense,’ I said fiercely. I lay down beside him
and forced him to look at me. ‘I’ve only just found you and now … I don’t understand. It’s like you have a death wish.’

  My stomach lurched at these words because I remembered some of our deeper conversations. Was James really filled with hopelessness and despair? All the light had gone from his eyes and I couldn’t bear to see him like this. I stared up at the gently rustling trees and patches of pale grey sky. They all seemed to be spinning, or it might have been my head.

  ‘Don’t you want to stay with me?’ I begged.

  ‘You know I do,’ he answered, clearly moved. ‘More than anything in the whole world.’

  ‘Then trust me.’ I propped myself up on one arm. ‘Let me take you to a doctor. You’re kind of … pale.’

  Pale was a massive understatement. His breathing was erratic and there was a strange gurgle in his throat that terrified me.

  It seemed like ages before James spoke. ‘I can’t go back to hospital, Sinead.’

  My voice became briskly impatient to hide my growing trepidation. ‘Go back? What do you mean?’

  ‘You do know,’ he continued sadly. ‘You’ve known since the beginning, but you didn’t want to see it.’

  I adopted my best no-nonsense voice. ‘You’re not making any sense, James, and this conversation is … ridiculous.’

  I sat up so as not to look at him and madly twisted my watch round and round my wrist. ‘Anyone would think you were really ill.’

  The silence was so profound that it roared in my ears, or that could have been the sound of my blood pumping furiously around my body as terror seized me. It was as if these words opened my mind to the truth that I’d tried to ignore – the scars that were years old, the needle tracks, the lethargy, obvious anaemia and general malaise. His strange obsession and almost fatalistic acceptance of death. I could die in your arms, Sinead. I couldn’t turn around because the expression in his eyes might suddenly make sense and throw light on the real reason why he couldn’t stay.

  ‘I’ve been dying since I left this place.’

  I put my hands over my ears, hoping that blocking out the words might make their meaning go away. But James was behind me now, his chest pressed against my back. He gently put his arms around my neck to stop me from trying to escape. The pain was visceral, as if every nerve ending in my body was being stabbed simultaneously.

  ‘I’ve been dying for so long, Sinead. Almost half my life.’

  ‘Don’t say it,’ I begged.

  ‘Chronic myeloid leukaemia,’ he whispered.

  My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and I turned around, my first defence anger. ‘You weren’t going to tell me?’

  ‘It would have been easier not to …’

  ‘For you, maybe,’ I growled.

  ‘You really think so?’ he answered, overcome with emotion. ‘But the truth is … I was glad not to. It was important to know you didn’t just feel sorry for me.’

  I rubbed my eyes, which felt raw, as if they’d never seen daylight before. ‘Bone-marrow transplant?’

  He gave a hollow laugh. ‘Been there, done that. As well as radiation therapy, chemo, blood transfusions, even stem-cell transplant … They all eventually failed and I was back to the start … except … there’s nowhere left to go.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ I snapped, with increasing desperation. ‘There’s always something new to try.’

  ‘Eight years.’ He grimaced. ‘That’s how long I’ve been having treatment. I barely remember a time before … a time when I wasn’t ill.’

  We were silent for a few minutes, my breathing now as erratic as his. I was clutching at straws, dwindling hope making me desperate. Medical mistakes happened all the time. James’s condition was misdiagnosed from the very outset. He didn’t look as though he was drawing his last breath.

  ‘I’ve seen the terminally ill, James. They don’t look like you –’

  ‘I know,’ he interrupted with pride. ‘This time with you is the reason I had to return here … to remember how it feels to really live and to fall in love. You’re my destiny, Sinead, but from the second we met, I was leaving you. I tried to go home to spare you this.’

  Acute shock hadn’t totally taken away my powers of reasoning. I flexed my fingers. ‘Is there anything more that medicine could offer you, anything at all?’

  James began pulling up tufts of grass, playing for time, his forehead a mass of deep creases. ‘With more invasive procedures, maybe a few weeks. They can give me more time, but not quality time.’ His eyes sought mine. ‘I’m dead already, Sinead.’

  I tried to compose myself as his words hit home. Dad told me once that part of being a good doctor was knowing when to stop trying, that dying well was as important as living well. I selfishly wanted to shout or stamp my feet, to rage at the world. I wanted to beg James to have more treatment for my sake, to take every second offered to him. But when I could finally bring myself to look deep into his eyes I knew what he was asking me to do – to accept the truth of this. If you love someone, you have to set them free, Harry had told me. And that’s what James was asking me to do now. But he was mad if he thought I was going to let him go without me.

  ‘I’ll come with you –’

  James visibly shuddered and wrapped his arms tightly around his body. ‘You mustn’t give up your life for me.’

  I yanked my hair, my voice rising hysterically. ‘Maybe I want to. Maybe there’s nothing else here for me.’

  ‘You’ll have a great career, meet someone else and—’

  ‘I don’t have a future,’ I interrupted with stubborn fury.

  ‘Promise me you won’t try and follow me. Promise me you won’t …’ James’s breathing became increasingly laboured.

  This was all wrong. I’d made James even more agitated. I had to be strong for him. My one secret solace was that I wouldn’t let him go without me, although I would strenuously deny my intention. I crossed my fingers behind my back and made soothing noises to reassure him that I wasn’t serious. The cruelty of this moment hit me like a blow to the stomach. I had gone to sleep planning our life together and awoke to find we had only hours left before we had to say goodbye forever.

  I smiled through unshed tears. ‘We got old. Remember my dream? We had more than two weeks – we had a lifetime.’

  ‘We had a lifetime.’ He grinned, and his face looked boyish again.

  ‘Some people reach old age,’ I whispered thickly, ‘but they don’t really live, they just exist.’ I pulled him down on to the grass with me, face to face, squinting in the burgeoning light. ‘The sun isn’t up yet. Are you in any pain?’

  ‘Not when I’m with you,’ he murmured with gratitude. ‘You can never know what this means. I’ve imagined tubes and drips … a breathing mask … machines to record every heartbeat. If I’d ever thought it could be this way, I wouldn’t have been afraid.’

  ‘And why should you be?’ I insisted, each word killing me a little more. ‘There’s nothing to fear.’

  ‘When you tell me that, suddenly I believe it.’

  It took every last bit of my reserve to continue. ‘I almost didn’t meet you again. I had an accident at Patrick’s flat and nearly died. It was so weird because … right at the end … I accepted it.’ I caught my tear before it splashed on to him. ‘One day with you is worth a lifetime.’

  ‘That’s so sweet,’ he answered, with a tired sigh.

  A disturbing thought suddenly came to me, chilling me to the core. ‘James? Your mum … !’

  ‘We’ve already spoken,’ he said with unbearable effort. ‘She had a kind of … sixth sense that something was wrong and she’s at the airport now. I told her about you.’

  ‘What if … ?’ My throat closed over.

  ‘If she doesn’t make it?’ James finished, and his eyes were glassy pools of grief. ‘She told me the strangest thing, Sinead – that she had said goodbye every single day of my illness and … each extra second was a gift.’

  A sea of salty tears gushed down m
y face. I’d been desperate to have a heart and now I knew how it felt when it shattered into a million pieces. After a while James slipped out of consciousness but I continued talking. The last sense to disappear is hearing, Dad had told me. I wanted James to listen to my voice, to take it with him wherever he went. I told him how the clouds were looking today and how the sunlight felt on my skin. I described the trees and the flowers that he loved. I’d been so blind to the beauty all around, but now I could see them through his eyes and describe each petal and leaf. I told him again and again that I loved him. He was more than just comfortable – that awful phrase used to describe end-of-life patients; his face was suffused with happiness and peace.

  I wept silently. ‘What would be the point of love if it wasn’t everlasting?’

  These were the final words I spoke to him. He opened his eyes and took a deep juddering breath. I didn’t need a heart monitor to tell me it was his last. Inside I was imploding in one long silent scream, but I stayed with James in my arms, stroking his golden hair and resting my cheek against his until he grew cool to the touch. Right until the end I prayed for a miracle, but they didn’t happen for people like me.

  Thirty-One

  It didn’t seem possible, but it was a beautiful new day. I tried to get my head around an inexplicable new reality – the sun would rise and set, the moon still wax and wane and the world keep spinning on its axis even though James was no longer living in it. I left him lying on a carpet of leaves, looking like an angel. Only this time he wasn’t sleeping. Despair now enveloped me like a black suffocating cloud. I wouldn’t delay my plan to follow him. He might get too far ahead of me. I didn’t know how death worked, but I wasn’t taking any chances. My feet took me further into the wood until the earthy dank smell reached me. I staggered on, desperate to reach the pond. My actions were totally premeditated and focused. Death had tried to claim me before – now I was giving myself to it. I waded into the water without undressing, hoping that my clothes would weigh me down and make this easier. Today there’d be no one to save me. I wouldn’t even take a gulp of air before being pulled under.