The Gift

by Louise Jensen

  Yours,

  Tom and Amanda

  By the time I’ve read the letter twice I’m shivering. Pulling open my wardrobe to find some dry clothes I can’t help taking out the wooden box and cradling it to my chest. How do Tom and Amanda cope with the loss they’ve experienced? The box is closed, the wood is thick, but I don’t have to open the lid to see what’s in there. I do that every time I close my eyes. What would Sam say if he knew what was inside? I can’t imagine. Kneeling, I carefully put the box away, covering it with one of my scarves.

  Another evening in. On the kitchen table I line up my tablets the way I’d once have lined up shots, and I swallow the first dose of the ridiculous number of pills I need to make sure I stay alive, washing them down with a glass of tepid water. Callie stares at me reproachfully from her photos that cover the walls. I don’t know what to think. I’d been so sure before I talked to Vanessa that this heart – her heart – must feel some of the things she felt.

  It’s hard to settle. In the lounge, I light a coconut candle, which always conjures images of lying on a golden beach, trickling hot sand between my fingers. Ben Howard sings ‘Only Love’. I’m sketching as my thoughts run free, my fingers flying across the page almost of their own accord, and as I glance down at the paper I am shocked to see I have drawn a girl, her knee is raised, and her opposite arm, bent at ninety degrees, is thrust forward as though she is running. She’s twisting her head to look behind her and on her face is a look of absolute horror. That isn’t what has shocked me though, it’s the fact the girl looks just like me.

  20

  I push the lollipop stick and feather into the turret. A flag of sorts. Pebbles mark the windows and the doors. There are loads of other kids on the beach but I think our castle is the best. Sand flies everywhere as you dig a moat, landing in my eyes, my mouth, my hair.

  ‘Stop it,’ I say.

  ‘Stop what?’ you ask, rocking back on your heels.

  I glare at you but I can’t keep a straight face. Your body blocks out most of the wooden owl behind you but it looks as though his wings are sprouting from the sides of your body. You look like an angel with your long blond hair shimmering in the sun, and I giggle as I grab my bucket.

  ‘Let’s fill up the moat. Last one to the sea’s a loser.’

  I hang back, giving you a head start. Your legs pump furiously, bucket in one hand, spade in the other, and as your feet splash into the ocean, I am right behind you.

  The ice water slows me down, and I lick saltwater from my lips, laughing at the shock on your face.

  I bounce on my toes and curl my knees up to my chest, submerging myself in the not-quite-blue-sea. My hair fans around my shoulders, and I allow myself to fall backwards, starfish out my arms and legs and float. Water roars in my ears, and I feel detached from everything as I focus on the clouds. I can see a dragon, a pig, a castle.

  I lower my legs, feet flailing until they touch the seabed, gritty and slimy, and I turn to you.

  ‘Try it,’ I say. ‘It’s like being a fish.’

  You shake your head. You’ve always had a fear of getting your face wet, even in the bath, and when Mum washes your hair, you wear goggles. You can’t swim and won’t even try.

  I stand behind you and squeeze my hands into your armpits.

  ‘Lay back,’ I say.

  ‘I’m scared,’ you whisper.

  ‘Don’t be scared. I’ll catch you. I’ll always catch you.’

  21

  The weather is foul. It hasn’t dried up overnight and the clouds are still grey and swollen. As I walk to work freezing raindrops gust into my face. I wipe my eyes with my fingertips and they come away dark where I’ve smudged my mascara, and I can’t help thinking about Callie’s black eye. Was it really caused by walking into a cupboard at work? A thought occurs. I could find out by visiting the dental surgery she worked at and asking the staff. Water has pooled by the side of the road and a car speeds past, instantly saturating me. Irritated, I switch my thoughts to something happier. The beach dream I had last night with the two little girls. Despite the science Vanessa throws at me I still secretly believe it is Callie and Sophie, and thinking of Callie’s happier times lifts my bad mood.

  Pushing open the door to the surgery I’m thrilled to see John in reception with Linda.

  ‘How’s retired life?’ I ask as I step forward to give him a hug, but the expression on his face stops me.

  ‘Jenna. Can we see you in the office, please?’

  Dropping my bag, I follow John. Linda shuts the office door behind us before bustling around the desk to her chair and sinking into it with a sigh.

  ‘After you left yesterday we had a complaint from a Mr Freeman.’ John stands behind Linda resting his hand on her shoulder but she shrugs him off.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘He’s just moved to the area. He rang with an emergency. His cat had been run over. He was told there weren’t any appointments.’

  ‘Who did he speak to?’ We have a policy of including our names when we answer the phone.

  ‘He said he spoke to you, Jenna, and that he was very distressed he couldn’t be seen but you told him it wasn’t our problem and put the phone down.’

  ‘Me?’ I lean forwards in my chair. ‘He said he spoke to me? I’ve never heard of him.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ John says. ‘Linda tells me you’ve been very… distracted.’

  ‘Positive,’ I say. The medication might make me forgetful but it doesn’t make me rude. ‘You believe me, don’t you?’

  There’s a beat before Linda says: ‘He may have misheard the name. Let’s not dwell on it then,’ but as I leave the office she can’t meet my eye. We all know that Jenna doesn’t sound remotely like Kelly or Rachel and it stings that they might not trust me. This job is the thread linking me to my old life and if it’s severed I really don’t know what I’d do.

  ‘Perhaps it was Kelly pretending to be me?’ I haven’t time to filter the words that spring from my lips.

  ‘And why would she do that?’ There is no trace of the usual warmth in John’s voice.

  ‘To get me into trouble? You said she wanted more hours?’

  Linda looks at me with an expression on her face that looks like sorrow. ‘Kelly’s a lovely girl. Jenna, we’re worried about you. You’re so preoccupied. Even when you’re here it seems your mind is somewhere else.’

  ‘Sorry. I’ll be more careful. I promise.’

  Linda and John exchange a look before John says: ‘Back to work then, but if there’s anything you need to talk about. Anything we can do to help you, you know where we are.’ And as I leave their office, pulling the door behind me, their voices are low and muted and I know they’re talking about me, and as I pass Kelly in the corridor I can’t help glaring at her.

  The next time the phone rings I am extra polite as I answer.

  ‘Hello, Jenna,’ says a voice that is warm and familiar. ‘It’s Nathan. I wanted to check you were OK? After Monday? I’ve been kicking myself for not taking your mobile number and I’m hopeless on social media, but I remembered where you worked. Hope you don’t mind me calling?’

  ‘No. I’m fine. Embarrassed but fine.’

  ‘I was wondering.’ I hear the tremor in his voice. ‘I remember you saying you don’t work Fridays and I’m owed some hours. Would you like to meet for a walk along the canal?’

  I hesitate, but only for a second.

  ‘Yes.’

  The flame on the Yankee Candle glows orange and the flat is soon fragrant with cinnamon. Lifting the cushions off the sofa one by one, I thump them to plumpness, wanting everything to be perfect when Rachel arrives. She used to come around once a week while Sam was playing skittles but that petered out after I fell ill. I’ve missed it.

  Often during our girls’ nights in we’d binge-watch trash TV. Picking apart Don’t Tell the Bride, screeching at the groom’s choices. Tonight, the TV will remain blank and silent. There’s such a lot to talk about, it’s not alw
ays easy to snatch time to chat at the surgery. I scroll through Spotify trying to find something we’ll both like, settling on Ellie Golding. ‘Anything Could Happen’ drifts out of the speakers and I sing along as I straighten the rug.

  When the doorbell rings I rush to answer it, enveloping Rachel in a hug as though I hadn’t left her at work only hours before. Her hair is shower damp, the smell of the surgery replaced with the sweetness of pear shampoo.

  ‘Sorry.’ She thrusts a carrier bag towards me and bottles chink together. ‘It’s Aldi. I’m too skint for Tesco – how depressing is that?’ But she smiles as she steps through the door. Nothing brings her down for long.

  ‘You needn’t have brought anything.’ But I’m glad she has. I’d meant to call into Asda on the way home but I’d forgotten. ‘Go and make yourself comfortable in the lounge and I’ll bring some drinks in.’

  I don’t realise Rachel has followed me into the kitchen until I hear her say: ‘What the fuck, Jenna?’

  Her bag thuds to the floor as she stands in the middle of the kitchen, turning 360 degrees, her mouth hanging open in shock as she takes in the photos of Callie, the scribbles on my Post-it notes, the sheets of information about Cellular Memory.

  ‘I know it’s a mess.’ I empty the carrier bag of the bottles she’s brought, Rosé wine for her, sparkling elderflower for me, and I take two glasses out of the cupboard. ‘But there is a logic to it.’ Pulling open a bag of sea salt crisps I shake them into a bowl, and I can’t resist popping one into my mouth.

  ‘This…’ She stares at me as I lick salt from my fingertips. ‘This isn’t normal, Jen.’

  ‘Having someone else’s heart transplanted into your body isn’t normal, Rachel. You know I wanted to find out what happened to Callie. For Tom and Amanda?’

  ‘Yes. But…’ She gestures towards the pictures.

  I’ve never known her lost for words before, and I feel annoyed that she’s being so judgemental. She stoops in front of the fridge, studying the swirling lines of my mind map. I wait for her to speak.

  ‘Christ,’ she says, finally, straightening up, and I grab my drink from the worktop and sticky cordial splashes over my fingers.

  ‘Come through,’ I say picking up the crisps and striding from the room.

  In the lounge, Rachel sits heavily on the chair and gulps from her glass, draining it in seconds before glugging more wine.

  ‘Callie’s fiancé, Nathan, rang me today.’

  I can’t wait to tell her I’m meeting him on Friday, but I wait for her flurry of questions.

  Instead, she quietly says: ‘Jen, I think you need to talk to someone.’

  ‘I was hoping to talk to you, tonight.’ My enthusiasm for having her here begins to wane.

  ‘I mean someone who deals with… well, in mental health. Vanessa?’

  ‘I’m not mad.’ Hurt she thinks I might be. I haven’t even told her yet about the episodes I’m experiencing, and loneliness wraps itself around me like a cloak as I know I won’t be able to now.

  ‘I don’t think you are mad.’ She speaks slower than usual as though choosing each word carefully. ‘But you’ve been under a lot of pressure: the operation, Sam, returning to work.’

  ‘Work is stressful.’ I clutch at the opportunity to steer the conversation onto a subject that isn’t Callie, or my state of mind. ‘What do you think of Kelly?’

  ‘She’s lovely. Young, of course. But eager to pitch in with whatever needs doing.’

  ‘I think she might be trying to get me sacked.’

  The disbelief on Rachel’s face says far more than her words ever could. The gulf between us widens. The sense of loss is jagged and raw.

  ‘Forget I said that.’ I quickly say. ‘Shall we watch some TV?’

  Turning off the music I aim the remote control, channel-hopping until I find an old episode of Say Yes to the Dress. We watch in silence, crisps untouched, as the bride squeals in delight at a delicate heart-shaped pendant and bracelet set. Sam bought me a bracelet just like it one Valentine’s, and I carry it around in the zipped pocket of my handbag every day so it’s always close to me. Now I wear a medical ID bracelet, and I miserably fiddle with the clasp. When the programme ends barely an hour later Rachel stands to leave.

  ‘Are you working tomorrow?’

  ‘Just for the morning,’ I say.

  ‘And afterwards? Will you speak to Vanessa? For me?’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ I say but I’ve got no intention of ringing Vanessa tomorrow afternoon. I’m going to call into Callie’s dental practice and meet her colleagues. I am determined to find out whether the bruise on Callie’s face was really caused by her walking into a cupboard at work, or if there is another explanation.

  22

  We shelter under the wing of the giant wooden owl. Fat raindrops bounce off the gravel and fog hangs low in the sky blanketing the steely sea.

  ‘Ready?’ I ask, and I pull the hood of your raincoat over your head and tighten the cord under your chin so the howling wind outside doesn’t force it back down.

  We hold hands as we sprint towards the arcade, sandals splashing through puddles, the bottom of our dresses soaking wet. Inside, I unzip your coat and you shake your head like a dog and droplets of water cascade over the machine nearest the door.

  ‘That one.’ You point, and I press a handful of coins into your palm and watch as you slot a ten pence piece into the machine. I curl my hand around the cold metal lever and steer the giant metal claws left and right, back and forward until you squeal and clap as they hover above Piglet. The crane shudders as it lowers, and you clap your hands with excitement as Piglet is lifted by his feet, and I am triumphant. Just as he is nearly ours Piglet slithers from the grasp of the claws and tumbles down to nestle with the other unobtainable prizes. You burst into noisy tears. I placate you with fluffy pink candyfloss, and while you pull bits off with your fingers and stuff it in your mouth I go to the kiosk and swap all my pocket money for a cuddly toy. I tell you I’ve won it just for you. You flash a smile and wrap your arms around my waist and tell me I always make things better for you. Always. And I promise I always will.

  23

  ‘Earth to Jenna.’ Linda waves her hand in front of my face and I start. I’d been thinking about Callie again.

  ‘Sorry. Did you say something?’

  ‘The insulin I asked you to order in for Casper – where is it?’

  ‘Isn’t it in the stockroom?’

  ‘I couldn’t see it. Did it definitely come?’

  ‘It must have.’ But I don’t remember seeing it. ‘Kelly?’

  Kelly turns. She’s restocking the shelves with the plastic dog chews moulded into grinning mouths.

  ‘Did you take delivery of the insulin?’

  ‘No.’

  I push my chair back. ‘I’ll go and check. It must be here somewhere. Perhaps Rachel has moved it?’ I haven’t seen her all morning, and I think she might be avoiding me after last night.

  Kelly slides into my seat as I stand up, and taps the keyboard. ‘I’ll check the order system.’

  ‘Do you have a log-in?’ I begin to recite mine.

  ‘I’ve got my own.’ She frowns at the screen. ‘I helped with the orders when you were off. There’s no record of insulin being requested this week.’

  ‘I’m sure… I’m sorry.’ I cover my hot cheeks with my palms.

  ‘Not to worry, I’ll give Greenacres a call and see if they’ve got any spare,’ Linda says but she doesn’t smile and there’s an edge to her voice.

  I don’t blame her. I’m making so many mistakes lately. A couple of days ago the medication I’d left in one of the treatment rooms for the kitten with intestinal parasites was double the dose of his weight. I could have killed him, and I am filled with horror whenever I think of it.

  ‘Don’t worry, Jenna. I can go and collect it.’ Kelly smiles brightly and I shoot her a look.

  Linda thinks she’s so bloody perfect. But is she? It’s not hard to
delete an order on the system. Suspicion flows through my veins causing my blood to heat, my muscles to tense. Is it really me making all the mistakes? My mind is filled with gaping black holes where my memories should be. I wish I’d talked about it properly with Rachel last night.

  The bell tinkles as the door opens and a lady steps inside, dragging a reluctant poodle on a lead. The dog plants his feet on the floor, throws back his fluffy white head and howls, and I feel like howling with him. Checking my watch, I see there’s another hour to go before I finish at lunchtime, and the sounds of the surgery grow fainter as I drift off back into thought.

  It doesn’t take long to reach the dental surgery where Callie worked, and as I walk through the car park I notice how expensive the cars are, a black BMW, a silver Mercedes and a bright yellow sports car that looks as though it could be a convertible. I wonder whether dentists earn more than vets.

  Pushing open the heavy front door I’m hit by the smell of cloves, and I hear the muffled buzzing of a drill. I used to dread the dentist when I was small. I had a filling once and was so terrified of the injection I’d shake each time I got the reminder for my annual check-up. The amount of blood tests I’ve had now I barely notice each time sharp needles penetrate my skin.

  The reception is stark white with a glossy green rubber plant towering in the corner. A toddler kneels on the floor pulling toys out of a blue plastic box, squealing with delight as he finds Thomas the Tank Engine.

  ‘Can I help?’ I’m so transfixed by the whiteness of the receptionist’s teeth I forget to speak until she repeats the question.

  ‘Yes. Sorry. I’m not a patient here yet but my regular dentist is on maternity leave and I wondered if anyone could squeeze me in here today. My gums bleed a lot and I’m really worried.’

  ‘I’ll have a look but I think we’re pretty chocca.’ She cups her hand over the computer mouse and shakes it and her screen springs to life. ‘Is there no one else at your surgery that could see you?’