Hope sparked in Holly. ‘Have they discovered a new treatment that doesn’t involve chemotherapy?’
‘It’s not a treatment clinic, Holly,’ she said, reaching across to hold her hand. ‘It’s a place where I can end my life in dignity when I’m ready to go.’
Holly felt an icy grip on her heart. She could feel the blood draining from her face. She couldn’t speak. This frail, beautiful woman, totally calm and composed, was talking about ending her own life.
She swallowed hard, ‘I... I...’
‘Please help me Holly. I will make all the arrangements. I only need you to help me persuade Bobby that I would benefit from some fresh Swiss mountain air and to tell him that you will organise where we are staying and come with us for an extra pair of hands. When we get to Switzerland I will tell him the truth. Please say you’ll help me, Holly.’
Still no words would come to Holly. While Rosemary had been asleep, she had wondered whether maybe Rosemary wanted her to help plan her funeral so that a distressed Robert wouldn’t have to. She had steeled herself waiting for the request but was still dreading hearing Rosemary talk about the finer points of her own funeral service. But this... this was something else entirely. She wasn’t sure she could keep her promise to help and in the process deceive Robert.
Finally she found her voice, albeit tightly squeezed from the back of her throat. ‘You can’t mean this Rosemary. You can’t give up hope. One of the experimental drugs might work for you. You and Robert could have years more together. You could live happily at the house in Tamarina Bay with Robert taking care of you.’ There was desperation in her voice and she was fighting back tears. ‘Robert loves you so much you can’t just leave him like that, it’s... it’s... selfish.’
‘I want to do this because he loves me and I love my husband more than any other living being on this planet. I want him to see me die peacefully with people I love, not hooked up to machines with frantic nurses trying squeeze another few days of painful existence out of this poor diseased body of mine, in a London cancer hospital.’
They both heard the sound of tyres on the gravel.
‘He’s back, Holly. Please say you’ll help me,’ she implored, squeezing her hand more tightly, emphasising the urgency.
‘I don’t know, I need time to think.’
‘I don’t have time, Holly. If I get too sick I wouldn’t be able to travel or sign the documents in Switzerland.’
Robert’s keys were in the lock now.
‘When?’ asked Holly.
‘Next week.’
The front door opened.
‘I’m back, girls,’ said Robert.
Holly released Rosemary’s hand and moved into the centre of the room from where she could see Robert on the galleried landing, a Waitrose bag in each hand. Despite his bright tone of voice he was a shadow of his former self, someone whose world was about to crash around his ears and there was nothing he, or anyone, could do to stop it.
Looking down at Rosemary’s pleading eyes Holly understood that these two had a rare and special love that most people only dream of. She closed her eyes and nodded her head slightly.
Chapter 47
The headlights coming in the opposite direction flashed periodically into Holly’s already tired eyes making her squint at the road ahead. A little bit of her was wishing she had accepted the Forresters’ offer to stay overnight with them but she needed to get home to unpack. She had texted Harry a very brief message to let him know she was home safe and sound but she had promised to ring him later to have a catch up. I wonder if his ears have been burning, Holly mused.
Over a dinner of mushroom risotto, which Robert had prepared under careful guidance from Rosemary, Holly had confessed her reason for being in Mauritius and Dubai, and had apologised for lying. Robert said he was disappointed that she hadn’t felt able to confide in him too but he seemed to accept the explanation that the fewer people who knew the truth, the less likely that someone would accidentally give the game away.
He had asked then if she was married. Holly was surprised by the question. Did he honestly think that she would have got into a relationship with Philippe if she had someone waiting at home? Next came the inevitable question about whether or not Philippe knew the truth to which she replied, ‘Not yet.’
‘So do you have family at all, Holly?’ Robert had asked, and that was when she had finally been able to tell him about her beautiful boy studying architecture at Bath University. Robert had shown an immediate interest in him, encouraging Holly to bring him to visit next time he was home.
By this point in the evening Rosemary had tired of chasing grains of carnaroli rice around her plate and was struggling to keep her eyes open. That was when she had offered Holly a bed for the night but Holly had declined. There really didn’t seem much point in staying as the two of them needed to be up early again the next morning to get to the hospital for 9 a.m.
The M4 had never seemed so long but finally Holly pulled up outside her little house. The downstairs lights were on because they were on a timer when she was away but Holly knew there was no one home to greet her except her suitcase standing in the hall.
‘It can wait until tomorrow,’ she said to nobody, giving it a little kick as she walked passed on her way to the kitchen. Two minutes later she was snuggled up on her sofa with a mug of camomile and honey tea in one hand and the phone in her other. It was just after ten, early for Harry, and he answered on the second ring.
‘Lucky you caught me in, Mum. I’m off out with the guys in a bit.’
After the traumatic day she had had it was a relief to speak to someone so young and vibrant and carefree.
‘It’s a bit late to be starting your evening isn’t it?’
‘I can’t believe you said that, Mum. You were young once, you know.’
Holly didn’t point out that by the time she was his age she already had him as a young baby, and she was up half the night for quite different reasons. And when he was a toddler her evenings were spent studying for her English degree through the Open University.
‘Anyway how are you? How was Dubai?’
‘Dubai was hot outside and like a fridge inside because of the air conditioning. It was a really well-run resort though and you would love the building, it has a kind of twist in it.’
‘I think I’ve seen pictures in class of a couple of the newer buildings there. Awesome aren’t they. Hope I’ll be good enough to come up with stuff like that after I’ve graduated. You sound a bit knackered. Have you just woken up after a nap?’
I wish, thought Holly.
‘No, I’ve just been to see the Forresters. Oh my God, you should see their house. It’s absolutely gorgeous. Do you remember I told you he is an architect?’
‘Yes, and you couldn’t tell him about me because of your double life. Honestly, Mum, you’re not exactly a secret agent. Would it really hurt that much if they knew about the undercover blog writing?’
She smiled at his bluntness. ‘Well, they both know now, I told them over dinner and Robert said he’d very much like to meet you.’
‘Really? I could come up next weekend maybe?’
‘That might not work for me Harry. I may be going to Switzerland for a few days.’
‘I didn’t know Soleil had a resort in Switzerland.’
‘They don’t. I might be going on a little trip with the Forresters.’
‘Blimey, Mum, have they got a place there too?’
‘No.’ Holly chose her words carefully. ‘Rosemary’s not well. She wants me to accompany her to a clinic.’
‘It’s not one of those euthanasia places is it,’ Harry said jokingly. ‘ You know you can get banged up for helping people top themselves.’
‘Don’t, Harry, that’s not funny.’
‘I was just joking, Mum.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. Listen, have a great night out and I’ll check with Robert when would be a good time to get together. Love you.’
‘Love you too, Mum.’
Holly finished her camomile tea and toyed with the idea of curling up on the couch but she knew she would regret it in the morning. Wearily she dragged herself upstairs to the bedroom, kicked off her shoes, undressed, leaving a trail of clothes on the floor behind her and climbed between the sheets. Tired as she was, her last thought before sleep enveloped her was a line from Gone With the Wind ...
‘I can’t think about this now, I’ll think about it tomorrow...’ She didn’t even complete the quote before she was fast asleep.
Chapter 48
Holly reached over to her bedside table to turn off the alarm. She had hit the button several times before realising it wasn’t her alarm clock making the noise but her mobile phone ringing and it had now stopped of its own accord. It was usually turned off overnight but she had been so tired she must have forgotten. As she hauled herself upright it started ringing again. It’s either a message or someone is keen to get hold of me, she thought, sliding her feet into her sheepskin slippers and trying to remember where she had left her phone.
Although she had slept for ten hours she wasn’t feeling at all rested. Too much going on, she thought, glancing at the clock. It was 9.15 a.m. and her thoughts immediately went to Rosemary who would be sitting in a hospital bed waiting to have the intravenous drip hooked up. Holly was still shocked that the ever-composed Rosemary could be considering assisted suicide. There had been many news reports on television about people in a near vegetative state wanting to end their own lives but that was not Rosemary’s situation. She was still bright and lucid and relatively mobile. Why wouldn’t she want to hold on to life for as long as possible? Holly leaned forward resting her elbows on her knees and massaged her temples. She knew the answer to her own question. Rosemary didn’t want anyone else to be implicated in her death, so she had to act while she was still able. Far from being selfish, Holly thought, it’s a totally selfless act to relieve the suffering of her adoring husband.
The phone started to ring again. For a moment Holly panicked, wondering if Robert was trying to reach her, but then she reasoned that he would be at his wife’s bedside in the hospital, so his phone would be turned off. Harry wouldn’t have surfaced yet as he had been out last night, so it wouldn’t be him either. She made her way downstairs in search of her phone which she found still zipped up in the pocket of her handbag, abandoned on the kitchen work surface when she had made her camomile tea last evening. On glancing at the screen she could see that the last two calls were indeed from her message service. She wanted to know who was calling her so early on a Tuesday morning but decided they could wait a few more minutes as she headed back upstairs to the bathroom retrieving her toothbrush and cleansing balm from the overnight bag she had dumped in her hallway yesterday afternoon.
After applying the balm as a cleanser and removing it with a cotton cloth, she re-applied it as a mask to put a little moisture back into her parched skin. All this flying was playing havoc with her skin, in fact, with her body generally. Her doctor had prescribed some special eye drops because her eyes felt constantly dry and itchy, and her normally regular menstrual cycle had been totally erratic since she had started her job with Soleil. She wondered if air-stewardesses suffered the same problems.
Right, she thought, dialling her messaging service, let’s see who is trying to get hold of me:
‘Hi Hols, it’s DD. Did you get my email? I’ve sent you a new manuscript and don’t panic it’s not another “celebrity turned author”. This is your reward for doing such a good job on A Perfect Swine, and by the way I had no control over that awful title either! This one is definitely a bestseller, a bit raunchy in places, but you’re a grown-up if you get my drift! Really well-written so only needs checking for punctuation and grammar. Just one thing: I need it back as soon as possible. I know you’re good with deadlines so... any chance by the end of the week? I can’t wait to hear what you think. Can you tell I’m excited? Drop me an email to let me know you’ve got it.’
Holly hadn’t heard her friend this enthusiastic about a book in ages. She was intrigued but also hungry. Thank goodness there was some cereal and long-life milk in the cupboard.
Half an hour later Holly had finished her breakfast, unpacked her clothes straight into the machine for a wash, her laptop was back on her desk, turned on in anticipation, and the suitcase was back in the cupboard under the stairs for another three weeks. She nipped back upstairs to change into her comfy jeggings and a light sweater, and twisted her hair into a scrunchie to keep it off her face while working.
With a second cup of peppermint tea in her hand she sat down at her desk. Okay, let’s see what all the excitement is about, she said to herself.
She clicked on her inbox and there was the email from DD. There was also one from Philippe which set her pulse racing. Although the new manuscript was important, for once she let her heart rule her head as eagerly opened his message:
Holly, my darling,
Sorry I haven’t been in touch for a few days but I was up against this stupid deadline. The good news is I finished the book. I’m just waiting to hear back from the editor whether or not they like it and if they do I’ll be packing up here and back in England in a couple of weeks. I can’t wait to see you again (all of you) – I’ve really missed you. You had better email your address so that I will know where to tell the taxi to take me to when I get off the plane at Gatwick.
Missing you
Philippe xxxx
Holly checked the date on the email. It had been sent two days previously. It must have arrived just after she had packed her case to come home from Dubai so she had missed seeing it. She was pleased he had finally finished his book and hoped that his editor would give it the all clear to go into print.
She clicked reply.
Hello Philippe,
It’s lovely to hear from you, I thought maybe you were starting to forget about me? I’m really pleased you finished your book. Did you hear back from the editor yet? I hope it’s good news. Can’t wait to see you (all of you)! Let me have your flight details once you’ve booked it, and don’t worry about having my address, you won’t need a taxi, I’ll come and meet you.
Missing you too
Holly xxxx
Holly had been very careful to only put the same number of kisses that Philippe had, not wanting to appear too keen even though the butterflies were back in her stomach just thinking about him. She knew there was a bit of explaining to do when he got back to England but she was sure he would understand her reasons for lying to him. She was so looking forward to spending long hours getting to know him better... she blushed at the thought.
Right, she thought, concentrate. After sending a quick email to DD, letting her know she had received the manuscript and that, although it was a tall order, she would try and have it finished by the end of the week, she opened the attached Word document, hoping that DD’s exuberance was justified.
‘Oh my God!’ exclaimed Holly. ‘I don’t believe it!’
She was staring at the four words on her computer screen:
TIFFANY
by
Veronica Phillips
She brought her hands together in mock prayer, raised her eyes to the heavens and said out loud, ‘Thank you, DD.’
Holly could hardly believe that she was being entrusted to copy-edit this woman’s long awaited follow-up to her best-selling first novel Maman. There was mystery surrounding the author as there had been no photograph of her on the book sleeve and she had refused to do any radio or television interviews for promotion. Some people said that the book was so good that it must be an already established novelist writing under a pseudonym. Holly didn’t care. All she could think was that she, Holly Wilson, could potentially get an acknowledgement for copy-editing this new book. Dad would have been so proud of me, she thought. Maybe at last her luck really was changing both professionally and personally.
She began to read:
Chapter 1
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He drained the last few drops of amber-coloured ice-cold beer from his glass. He placed it on the bar and carefully traced rivulets of condensation with the tip of his index finger, grateful for the distraction. Overhead the ceiling fan whirred quietly but efficiently. The breeze, although welcome, was not sufficient to prevent perspiration causing his white linen shirt to cling to his back. He barely noticed. He could only think about the blunt email he had received that morning from his publisher. She was right about the first draft of his book but did she need to be so cruel? Writing, always a solitary business, became positively lonely when inspiration deserted you, he thought miserably. He ran his hands through his light blond hair observing his reflection in the mirror behind the spirit optics. He looked tired, dispirited, older than his forty-one years. Regret replaced optimism. Giving up his lucrative career as a journalist to pursue his dream of becoming a novelist seemed reckless now.
A small movement caught the corner of his eye. A woman in a coral dress stood at the entrance to the bar. She seemed to hesitate for a moment before crossing the room to slip onto the bar stool next to his.
‘May I?’ she asked.
‘Help yourself,’ he replied. He guessed she was a little younger than him, dark-haired and curvaceous, but what really caught his attention were her deep green eyes.
How weird is that? Holly thought. It could be a description of me. I even own a coral dress.
‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘That’s kind of you,’ the woman said, maintaining eye contact for a few moments, ‘but save your money, I’m staying here on an all-inclusive deal.’
Life's a Beach and Then... (The Liberty Sands Trilogy Book 1) Page 16
