One Endless Summer

by Laurie Ellingham

  Jaddi drew in a sharp breath. Fresh pain sliced through her. Yesterday, Samantha had been talking and laughing and planning her future. Yesterday, she’d been happy to be in New York, and teasing Jaddi about the cold. Today, she was gone.

  ‘I’m not sure she’d have wanted her mum to organise her funeral,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘We should do it,’ Jaddi nodded.

  ‘I’m not sure she’d want us to do it either,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘Liz—’

  ‘We were all she had. We hurt her and we killed her.’ Lizzie’s cheeks shone wet with tears.

  Ben sat down beside Lizzie and touched her knee. ‘Lizzie, you can’t blame yourself.’

  Lizzie let out a howling gasp. ‘I don’t blame myself. I blame Jaddi.’

  Jaddi drew in a breath, her eyes finding Lizzie’s. A darkness crossed Lizzie’s face. She frowned, holding Jaddi’s stare.

  ‘You were right before, in the park,’ Lizzie said, ‘when you said this is on you. You pushed and pushed, just like you always do. Egging us on, bullying us into things. I’m sure you think you’re doing it for us, for me, but it’s not. It never is. It’s always about what you want. You wanted to go travelling. You saw a way to make it happen.’

  Jaddi recoiled. Her head smarted as if Lizzie had slapped her face. Jaddi had had the same thoughts, she’d blamed herself, but hearing it from Lizzie cut to her core.

  Lizzie stood up and stepped towards the door.

  ‘You wanted to know what harm it could do?’ Lizzie cast her eyes around the room. Tears fell from her eyes. ‘Here’s your answer.’

  CHAPTER 70

  Lizzie

  Lizzie’s hand trembled as she reached for the door handle. A part of her, a big part, wanted to throw open the door and run far away. But she didn’t move. Instead she stood there, facing the door, the handle gripped in her shaking hand. The only sound, Jaddi’s wrenching sobs.

  Her venomous words hung in the air like a bad aftertaste. Had she meant it? Did she really think Jaddi was to blame? No more than she was. She’d even predicted it.

  There will be people out there right now, walking down the street, thinking they’ve got years ahead of them. When bam, a bus hits them, and it’s over. I’ve been given a chance to live my dreams.

  It had been an ambulance, not a bus, but the rest was true. Samantha’s dreams, her future, had been stolen from her. There’d been no choice. None whatsoever. One second she’d been walking down the street, angry with both of them for lying, angry with Lizzie for not fighting anymore; the next she was gone.

  It wasn’t fair. She was the one who’d chosen to die, but it was Samantha who’d been taken. Tears flowed in a steady stream down her face, dripping in perfect circles on the grey floor.

  ‘Lizzie?’ Jaddi’s voice was hoarse and scratchy.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Lizzie spun around and dived towards Jaddi. ‘I didn’t mean that. I was hurt and angry and I didn’t mean it.’ Lizzie buried her head in Jaddi’s shoulder and held her tight.

  Jaddi sniffed. ‘You were right, though. I did push this.’

  Lizzie sat down and slid her hand inside Jaddi’s. ‘We both did.’

  ‘Shall we go home?’ Jaddi unleashed a shuddering sigh and rested her head on Lizzie’s shoulder.

  Lizzie nodded. ‘Will you go for me? Arrange something nice for Samantha. Something classy with lots of tulips and cups of tea—’ Lizzie’s voice broke. ‘She’d have liked that.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Jaddi asked.

  Lizzie stared at the photograph on the wall of the city skyline. When she’d said no to Dr Habibi, she’d told herself that six months of living was enough. She convinced herself it would be, that it had to be, but it wasn’t. Lizzie didn’t know when she’d realised it, or maybe she’d known it all along and hidden it out of reach in her mind, but Samantha’s death had thrust it forwards and she could no longer ignore it. She could no longer stare down the path she’d chosen and think it was too late to turn back.

  All of a sudden she realised, it wasn’t the lie that had weighed so heavy on her thoughts all this time, it was the truth.

  ‘Samantha was right,’ Lizzie said as silent tears continued to drop from her eyes. ‘I shouldn’t have given up. It’s on both of us that she’s …’ Lizzie shook her head. ‘I’m the one that should be dead. Not her. I’m the one that chose it. All she chose to do was to be a good friend. She’s dead and I’m alive. I can’t let her down now. I have to go to San Francisco and meet this friend of Dr Moss’s. He thinks he can help me.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s what you want?’

  ‘What I want is to undo it all and be back in our dingy flat. The three of us together.’

  Jaddi smiled, fresh tears brimmed in her eyes.

  ‘But since that’s not an option, then I need to fight. I thought I was lucky because I was given time, but I’ve been so stupid. I was lucky to be given the chance to fight. Samantha didn’t get a chance so now I have to take mine, for her.’

  ‘I want to come with you. You shouldn’t go through it alone,’ Jaddi said.

  ‘No.’ Lizzie shook her head. Goosebumps spread across her arms. ‘I know it might seem silly, but I can’t bare the idea of Samantha going home alone. Please, go with her.’

  ‘It’s not silly,’ Jaddi whispered.

  They sat in silence for a moment.

  Ben stepped forward and crouched down to the floor beside them. ‘I’ll come with you, Lizzie.’ he said.

  Lizzie nodded and reached for Ben’s arm, pulling him closer so that the three of them were together on the floor. They stayed like that for a long time.

  Jaddi wiped the sleeve of her jumper across her face. ‘I can’t lose you both—’

  ‘I know,’ Lizzie said. She sucked in her bottom lip and allowed hope to spread over her pain. Maybe it was too late, maybe her tumour had grown too much by now, maybe the lie she’d told had become the truth, but she had to try. She had to fight. For Sam.

  CHAPTER 71

  Day 70

  Lizzie

  Beyond the blinds drawn shut, and the window that didn’t open, the sun was rising. Lizzie thought about lowering the bars of the bed and padding barefoot to the window, peeking through the slats and watching the rays of yellow creep over Golden Gate Park. Or sneaking off the ward in her white hospital gown with its turquoise, teardrop pattern and finding her way onto the roof so she could feel the warmth of those first beams on her skin and smell the sea on the breeze. Are you up there, Samantha? Did you find your way to the gates all right? I hope so. Wherever you are, I hope you’re OK.

  Instead, Lizzie glanced out of the open doorway, past the nurse station to the white clock on the wall. The ward was so quiet at night, the quietest ward she’d ever been on; Lizzie could hear the red second hand of the clock ticking. In a few minutes, the next shift of nurses would begin their day and one of those nurses would be bringing Lizzie the pink chalky liquid she needed to drink before her treatment could start. She couldn’t miss the nurse, couldn’t delay another day.

  In her heart, Lizzie knew that it was more than just her wait for the medicine that kept her rooted to the bed with the blinds shut tight. Watching the horizon transform into a wash of pinks and purples and the land fall into shadow, or rise into the light, signified something Lizzie couldn’t quite voice, couldn’t quite reach in her mind. But she knew that staring at the sky had been her search for something or somewhere that she’d been journeying towards, and now she’d changed direction.

  Lizzie sat up, crossed her legs and switched on the camera in her hands.

  ‘Welcome to day seventy,’ Lizzie said, staring into the red-rimmed eyes of her reflection. ‘I’m in the Neurology department at UCSF Medical Centre in San Francisco waiting for the first day of my treatment to start. I’ve been nil by mouth for over twelve hours. I’m hungry, thirsty and terrified that I’ve left it too late, terrified it won’t work.

  ‘Never, when I started on this journ
ey, did I see myself back in a hospital bed waiting for another treatment.’ Lizzie pulled in a breath and exhaled. ‘Then again. I never thought I’d learn what it is to lose someone I love either. I …’ Tears formed in Lizzie’s eyes. ‘I still have trouble believing Samantha is gone. I wish I’d been able to go to her funeral and say goodbye, but I have a duty now. A duty to fight for my life. Samantha didn’t get the chance, she didn’t choose any of this, and she certainly didn’t choose to die.’ Lizzie dry-swallowed.

  The grief came in waves. Sometimes, mostly at night, Lizzie felt it wash over her until she was sinking below the surface of it. Other times it was shallow, bearable. Focusing on the details helped. Lizzie looked back at the camera screen and brushed her fingers across her cheeks, wiping away the tears.

  ‘This morning I’m going to be wheeled into the first of many treatments over the course of the next month to see if I can beat this tumour. Dr Fitzgerald is going to insert lots and lots of tiny probes in through the back of my neck and right up to the outer wall of my brainstem.’ Lizzie touched the smooth area of skin on the back of her neck where Arianna, a beautiful Puerto Rican nurse with a deep voice and throaty laugh, had shaved it yesterday.

  ‘Then he’s going to use microscopic cameras and some kind of blue dye injected into my brainstem to zap minuscule amounts of very strong radiation right at my tumour. The probes are going to stay in place over the next week so that Dr Fitzgerald can do his daily zapping, or whatever the technical term he used for it is, which means I’ll have to stay face down on a special bed with a hole in it, like a massage table, and just drink protein shakes. So this is going to be my last video diary for a while, but Ben will be here doing his filming.’

  Out of nowhere another wave of emotion flooded Lizzie’s body, gripping her throat and causing tears to rise up and drop out of her eyes. It wasn’t grief this time, but something else – gratitude? Hope? Love? There wasn’t a word for it.

  ‘I … don’t think I could’ve survived this week without Ben. I’ve spoken on the phone a hundred times to Jaddi and my mum and dad, but Ben has been the one by my side all the other times.’ Lizzie closed her eyes and shook her head.

  ‘Before I go, I wanted to say thank you to Caroline and Channel 6 for their support, especially in the last week, as well as to all the viewers who’ve continued to support us. I’m sorry we didn’t trust you all to have the capacity to support my decision. I never saw it as choosing to die, but choosing to live on my terms. I still believe that, and I still believe that everyone with terminal or chronic illnesses should have the same rights and support that I’ve had to choose how they wish to spend their lives up to and including their deaths. But after losing Samantha, I know I have to fight, for her and for myself.’

  Lizzie smiled for a final time and switched off the camera. She turned the small black object over in her hands and realised she’d miss the video diaries. Jaddi had been right all along. They had been about more than connecting with viewers; they’d been about connecting with herself too.

  A flash of red in the doorway caught Lizzie’s eye. She turned, the smile widening.

  ‘Hey,’ Ben said, stepping into the room. He was wearing his olive-green combat trousers with all the pockets and a new T-shirt, so red that it seemed to glow in the dim of her room.

  ‘Hi.’ She grinned. ‘How did you get in here so early? Visiting hours don’t start for another hour.’

  Ben rubbed the palm of his hand against his cheek. She loved it when he did that. ‘It’s amazing what a large box of donuts can do for a group of hungry nurses. It turns out visiting hours are more of a discretionary thing, so you’re stuck with me.’

  ‘Damn,’ she said, laughing.

  ‘So.’ Ben dropped his gaze to his hands before focusing them back on Lizzie. ‘I have two things to tell you. Good news, I think.’

  She nodded.

  ‘Your mum, dad and Jaddi have landed at San Francisco International Airport. They should be here before you get wheeled off to the treatment room.’

  ‘And the second thing?’

  ‘Caroline’s pulling the plug on the documentary.’

  ‘Oh.’ Lizzie opened her mouth to say more, but closed it again. What could she say? A barrage of nerves dropped inside her stomach.

  ‘The last episode will show you here,’ Ben continued, sitting on the side of the bed, ‘and include your last video diaries. There’s talk of follow-up episodes at some point in the future, but I think she’s realised there won’t be much to see whilst you’re in hospital.’

  Lizzie bit down on her bottom lip and willed the tears not to fall. Two fat drops raced along her cheeks. Ben reached out a finger and caught one. ‘I thought you’d be pleased to have a break from the filming?’

  She nodded as a sob broke out of her. ‘I am. It’s not that.’ She closed her eyes, unable to stop her body from shaking. How could she explain? How could she ask him to stay with her when she had no right to?

  ‘Liz? Liz, open your eyes and look at me.’

  Lizzie opened her eyes as he tilted her chin upwards with the crook of his finger. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he said.

  ‘It’s fine, you don’t have to stay.’ Lizzie stared into his eyes, feeling the pull of him sweep over her. ‘Like you said, I’m going to have a roomful soon enough. You’ve got a job, a life, and I could be here for months, or I could go to sleep tomorrow and not wake up. I’m sorry I dragged you into this.’

  ‘Lizzie, stop.’ Ben smiled and ran a hand across her cheek. ‘It may be hard for you to believe, but nothing else matters to me, except being here with you. I’m staying.’

  ‘Oh.’ Another sob left her body. The tears falling in fat wet drops onto Ben’s arm.

  ‘Anyway, your mum has said she’s knitting me a jumper, so I’ve got to stay for that.’

  Lizzie shook her head, laughing and crying at the same time. ‘My mum always knits when I’m in hospital. She says it keeps her busy.’

  ‘Good then. I’ll see if she can do me one of those cheesy Christmas jumpers.’

  ‘But she can’t actually knit. She tries. But the only time she does it is in hospitals so it’s always stop and start and she loses the count. Last year, she kitted a jumper for Aaron with one arm hole and two head hole—’

  All of sudden Ben leant forward, pressing his lips against hers. He tasted of toothpaste and the salt from her tears and of a future she didn’t know she could have.

  ‘I love you,’ he whispered, brushing his lips against hers.

  She nodded.

  ‘Knock knock.’ Alianna smiled from the doorway. Her white uniform glowed with the brightness of a new shift. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, but which one of you ordered the neon liquid for breakfast?’ She held up her gloved hand and a small plastic cup.

  Lizzie smiled. ‘That would be me, thank you.’

  ‘Ready?’

  An image of Jaddi in the Channel 6 dressing room sprung into Lizzie’s head. Jaddi had asked her the same question. There was no panic this time, no fear, just determination and hope. Lizzie looked into Ben’s eyes and smiled. ‘Absolutely.’

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  My heartfelt thanks goes first to my awesome editor, Victoria, for believing in this story as much as I do, and for helping me to make it what it is today. Thank you, team HQ!

  To my beta readers – Pauline Hare, Kathryn Jones, Maggie Ewings, Mel Ewings, Steve Tomlin – I would be lost without your input.

  Thank you to the Book Connectors for their wonderful support; especially, Linda Hill – an amazing blogger, who I’m proud to call my friend. Thank you to Tony Ellingham for all that you do, and for the magic refilling drawer of Twix bars.

  Finally, to Tommy, Lottie and Andy, who sit beside me on the rollercoaster, and fill every day with laughter and fun. I love you!

  COPYRIGHT

  An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  First pu
blished in Great Britain by HQ in 2017

  Copyright © Laurie Ellingham 2017

  Laurie Ellingham asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Ebook Edition © March 2017 ISBN: 9780008211486