While I Was Sleeping

by Dani Atkins

  I reached up a hand and smoothed a straying strand of Maddie’s long dark hair back from her forehead. I would bring a hairbrush on my next visit. She looked as beautiful now as she had always done. Asleep or awake, Madeline Chambers remained not just the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, but also the bravest and the kindest.

  ‘And so, here we are again, my friend,’ I said quietly to the woman who could no longer hear me. I squeezed her hand, desperate for even the smallest sign that she knew I was there beside her.

  ‘I was wrong, wasn’t I?’ I asked the comatose woman in the hospital bed. It was surprisingly easy to fall back into the familiar habit of talking to her in this way. ‘And yet I was also right too.’

  Awake I knew she would have challenged me, but now I would have to talk for us both. ‘I thought I’d come into Ryan and Hope’s life to fulfil a purpose. I thought I was there to help them heal after you left them. And when you woke up, I thought I was no longer needed. My job was done. I thought that was why I got sick. But I was wrong, wasn’t I?’

  I gave her a moment in case she felt like jumping in, but although her chest rose and fell, she was somewhere else. Somewhere she had been once before.

  ‘But one of us did come back because they were needed. One of us found a pathway out of the darkness to a place where her family were waiting.’

  I lifted Maddie’s hand to my lips and tenderly kissed the smooth white skin. ‘I couldn’t have got through the last few months without you. You know that, don’t you? You’ve been the rock I needed to lean on. You’ve been there for me, and for Ryan, but most of all, you’ve been there for Hope.’ I reached out and gently stroked her hair. ‘I’m so glad she got the chance to know what an amazing and incredible woman her mother is. I’m glad I got to know.’

  I leant over and kissed the porcelain perfection of one pale white cheek.

  ‘Sleep well, my friend. For now. And when you’re strong enough, make sure you find a way to come back to us again, Miracle Girl.’

  Epilogue

  Ten Years Later

  Hope

  There was a sudden break in the traffic and the cluster of pedestrians at the crossing surged like scurrying beetles into the road, leaving me standing alone at the kerb, the only one rigorously heeding the little red man’s warning. The road was empty, I could see that, but I never took risks when crossing. And besides, it would be really bad form to get knocked down right outside of a hospital.

  It was warm inside the building, and I knew I was going to regret the thick jumper I was wearing by the end of my visit. I climbed into the lift with a group of other visitors. Most of them were carrying something for the patients they were going to see: magazines, flowers, one or two of them were even holding the clichéd bunch of grapes. But my hands were empty.

  I found my way to her room on autopilot, and knocked lightly on the door before slipping inside.

  ‘Hello. It’s Hope.’ I crossed to the bed and bent to kiss her cheek. I shrugged out of my jacket and drew one of the chairs closer to the bed, before reaching for Maddie’s hand and taking it in mine.

  ‘So what’s new with you?’ I asked chirpily, and then paused just in case this would be the day when she chose to open her eyes and say: Well, actually, Hope . . . I gave a small snigger, knowing I’d probably fall off my chair or have a heart attack, or maybe even both if that happened.

  ‘Okay. Well, I’ll go first then, shall I?’ I launched into a detailed account of everything that had happened at school since my last visit three weeks earlier. ‘And I got an A on that History test.’ It was hard having a parent who didn’t seem to care what score you got, good or bad. Sometimes it was the small silly things like that which hurt the most.

  ‘Mum said she’ll be coming to see you on Friday.’ I leant closer to the bed, as though sharing a secret. ‘She has a book she’s going to read to you. I warn you, it sounds very dull.’ I let that information sit with her for a minute. ‘So I reckon now would be a good time to wake up, so you don’t have to endure another boring historical saga.’ I was always doing this, giving her small incentives to wake up. As though all she was waiting for was a good enough reason to finally open her eyes. So far, she’d managed to resist every single one of them.

  But surely today I had the best reason of all. ‘In case you’d forgotten or lost track of the date, I thought I should probably remind you that it’s my sixteenth birthday next week.’

  I glanced down at the woman who still looked so much like me that even I found it freaky. ‘Obviously I know you won’t have got me anything, so don’t worry about that.’

  I looked down at my mother’s unmoving eyelids. She really did look as though she was sleeping. I mean, I like sleep as much as the next teenager, but my mother had taken it to a whole new level. Ten years – well sixteen, if you add the first coma in too. Surely enough was enough by now?

  ‘I’m going to have a party,’ I said, hoping to lure her back to us with something she wouldn’t be able to turn down. Except of course she’d silently declined all offers to join me at my last nine birthday parties, so why should this one be any different?

  I sighed and glanced around the room. Even though it was December there was an enormous vase of sunflowers on the window ledge. There always had been, for as long as I could remember. And it was always in exactly the same place, so that when she opened her eyes (he always said ‘when’, and never ‘if’) it would be the first thing that she saw.

  I smiled. ‘Do you want to know a secret?’ I asked my silent mother. She said nothing, so I took that as a ‘yes’. ‘I’ve met a boy.’

  This would be a good moment for her eyes to fly open in shock, I thought. But there was no flicker of awareness on her face. I looked down at my third parent, the one who never told me off, never told me to tidy my room, or got cross when I came home late. I laid my head down on the mattress, right beside her hand, making it easy for her to stroke my head . . . just in case she wanted to. ‘I always thought you’d come back in time to give me advice about boys and stuff,’ I said sadly. ‘I mean, I know I could ask Mum, but, between the two of us, I think you know more about that kind of thing than her.’

  I lifted my head and looked at the beautiful woman whose voice I could no longer remember, not even in my dreams. ‘Did you have a boyfriend when you were my age?’ I sighed sadly. ‘There’s too many things I want to ask you; too many things that only you can tell me.’

  I pulled my chair closer to the bed. ‘Couldn’t you just try to let me know that you can hear me?’ I pleaded. ‘You don’t have to do much. Just move your hand . . . or just one finger, if that’s easier?’ I focused my gaze on the long slim fingers resting on top of the white sheet. They didn’t move, and I felt guilty for trying to bully her awake.

  ‘I’m sorry. I know you’d come back if you could. I guess it’s not time yet.’

  When I bent down to kiss her goodbye our hair mingled on the pillow, making it impossible to see where hers ended and mine began. So much joined me to her, and yet so much separated us.

  ‘I’ll come back and see you on my birthday. We’ll celebrate together. How would that be?’ I whispered into her ear.

  In my head she answered; in my head she said that she was looking forward to it; in my head she said that she loved me.

  ‘I love you too, Mum,’ I said, a little embarrassed at the way my voice was breaking. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

  The room was quiet after the girl left. Rain was beginning to lash against the windows, and daylight was fading, setting long mysterious shadows free to dance upon the walls. But in a room full of silence even a tiny sound is deafening. It was faint at first, practically indiscernible, but gradually it grew louder as the woman’s index finger first twitched and then began to move backwards and forwards over the starched hospital sheet, not just once, but again, and again, and again . . .

  FIND OUT MORE ABOUT

  DANI ATKINS

  Dani Atkins novels are jam-packed wi
th emotion and family drama. You won’t be able to put them down.

  To find out more about her writing, visit www.SimonandSchuster.co.uk or follow Dani on twitter: @AtkinsDani

  All of Dani’s books are available to buy now in print, eBook and eAudio

  Dani Atkins

  Our Song

  He’s the love of her life. He’s your husband.

  This is the story of Ally and Charlotte, whose paths have intersected over the years though they’ve never really been close friends. Charlotte married Ally’s ex and first true love, David. Fate is about to bring them together one last, dramatic time and change their lives forever.

  Full of Dani’s signature warmth and emotion, this is a gripping and emotional family drama. With breathtaking plot twists, Dani explores themes of serendipity, friendship and love. What would you do if your husband was the love of somebody else’s life? And when faced with an agonising decision, could you put the past behind you and do the right thing?

  ‘Truly magnificent storytelling’

  Veronica Henry

  Dani Atkins

  This Love

  Sophie stopped believing in happy endings a long time ago, but could this love change all of that?

  Sophie Winter lives in a self-imposed cocoon – she’s a single, thirty-one-year-old translator who works from home in her one bedroom flat. This isn’t really the life she dreamed of, but then Sophie stopped believing in happy endings a very long time ago, when she was fifteen years old and tragedy struck her family. Her grief has left her scared of commitment and completely risk averse. Sophie understands she has a problem, but recognising it and knowing how to fix it are two entirely different things.

  But one night a serious fire breaks out in the flat below hers. Sophie is trapped in the burning building until a passer-by, Ben, sees her and rescues her. Suddenly her world is shattered – what will be the consequences of this second life-changing event?

  ‘Dani Atkins is the undisputed queen of fiction that packs a huge emotional punch, and this captivating story is another outstanding example’ heat

  Acknowledgements

  Writing is a solitary profession, but producing a book requires the talents and skills of a whole army of people. When I look back over my shoulder, I’m incredibly thankful to see a small squadron who worked tirelessly to produce the book you’ve just read, and whose unofficial job description could well include ‘making my dreams come true’. And guess what . . . they’ve done it again.

  A huge thank you to all the skilled professionals at Simon & Schuster, with special gratitude to my editor Jo Dickinson for her wisdom, patience and support. Thanks also to Emma Capron, Sara-Jade Virtue, Jessica Barratt and a whole host of talented individuals who make the magic happen. It’s a very special family to be a part of, and I’m very happy to call it home.

  Thanks also to my agent Kate Burke from Diane Banks Associates, who continues to safely navigate me (both figuratively and literally) through the world of publishing. I wouldn’t want to do this without you, Kate.

  To my friend and fellow author Kate Thompson, thank you for your enthusiasm when I first outlined this story to you, and your inspired suggestion (made over a salt beef bagel . . . long story) which took the end of the book down a different path – and made it all the better because of it.

  A special thank you to Martin Ingram, who has been my optician for over thirty years. Not only did Martin provide me with invaluable information regarding Chloe’s eye tests and allow me to borrow his name, he has also managed to stop me walking into objects for the last three decades! The blame for any mistakes or tweaked facts in those scenes is mine alone.

  Writing about serious medical conditions is something to be undertaken with both respect and caution. Walking a tightrope between medical facts and telling a story that is purely fiction is a tricky balancing act, and I hope readers will forgive me for any liberties I may have taken in order to bring you the story of Maddie and Chloe.

  One person who was instrumental in helping me to tell Chloe’s tale (because largely it is her own story) is a woman I’m extremely proud to call my friend, Bev Leverton, to whom this book is dedicated. I could think of no better blueprint for Chloe than Bev, who I’ve known for over twenty years; who is the only woman I’ve ever entrusted to look after my own children; and who I have never once heard complain about her condition. Behind that enormous smile and generous heart is a true hero, and a totally lovely person. Thanks for all your help, Bev, for answering dozens of inane emailed questions, and for the three-hour-long phone call!

  There’s one group of people I would particularly like to thank, because without them, I simply wouldn’t have a job. To the readers, bloggers and reviewers, thank you for parting with your money and buying a ticket into a world I’ve created. I hope you’ve enjoyed the journey, I hope you’ve met some interesting people on your travels and that before long you’ll come back. You are always welcome.

  And lastly, to the three people who are my world. No matter how many miles separate us, your love and support is always there, waiting, when I reach out for it. Ralph, Kimberley and Luke, thank you for telling me I could do this; should do this; and smiling on proudly when I finally did.

  Dani Atkins was born in London in 1958, and grew up in North London. She moved to rural Hertfordshire in 1985, where she has lived in a small village ever since with her family. Although Dani has been writing for fun all her life, Fractured was her first novel and became an eBook sensation. This is her fifth novel.

  Find out more about Dani Atkins:

  @AtkinsDani

  DaniAtkinsAuthor

  First published in Great Britain by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2018

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  Copyright © Berida Books, 2018

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  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-4711-6593-1

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-4711-6594-8

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