by Eva Woods
Dr. Quarani gave a small smile. “Habit. Sorry, Annie. It’s been very helpful for my clinical trial—your mother responded well to the drug. Her lucidity periods have increased. But the disease...it’s tenacious. I cannot guarantee we will hold it back.”
“I know. I know that. But really, I never even thought I’d have this.” Her mother had called her by name when she’d arrived. She seemed to think it was 2003 and Tony Blair was still prime minister, but it was progress.
The bathroom door opened and Annie’s mother came out, with her coat on and handbag clasped. “Thank you very much, Doctor,” she said formally. Apparently she no longer thought he was Omar Sharif, so that was something, too.
“It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Clarke. I wish you good luck in your new home.”
With his help they’d found a nice place in Kent, with green gardens and a knitting club and other people under sixty who’d been robbed of their memories. They’d lost time, too, in a different way to Polly. And that might be Annie, too—she hadn’t taken the test for the Alzheimer’s gene yet, and wasn’t sure she ever would. She hoped she wouldn’t need the spur of a deadline to live the rest of her days to the full. Even if she only had twenty-odd years of good time left, that would be enough to do all the things she’d always wanted. See Machu Picchu in Peru. Visit the lost gardens in Cornwall. Even another baby one day—but she was afraid to hope for that. And there wasn’t exactly a potential dad in sight. “I’m sorry for what happened,” she said. “That last night with Polly, roping you in like that. I know it wasn’t right. But thank you for it—it meant so much to her, even to pretend.”
He shrugged, embarrassed. “She was very beautiful. That, I can say. Like...lightning in a bottle, or something lovely and brief, that cannot be held in your hand. But I cannot be involved with patients, Annie. This is a rule for a reason. And I cannot—I do not have space in me for anything like that. It’s not possible, not yet. But perhaps it’s time I joined the world again, just a little.”
“Really?”
“I don’t know.” She saw his eyes were resting on the picture of his sister and her children. “I don’t know if I can, Annie. There is still so much to worry about, to fight for. You know, when I first came here, I could not settle at all. All these people, living in such safety and with such wealth, and yet they still complain and criticize and ask for more more more. I just felt angry that they did not know how lucky they were. Meanwhile my family lives every day with bombs falling from the sky.”
Annie nodded guiltily. She’d been one of those, she knew.
“But now...now I have some friends.” He said it so shyly. “Maybe I can start to think about making my home here. Maybe I can stop running quite so fast.”
And that, she knew, was more than half the battle. “I hope so. Come on, Mum, we better get going.”
Her mother’s eyes seemed to snap and focus. “Are you the nurse, dear?”
“It’s me, Mum. Annie.”
“Who?”
“Mum, it’s me. You knew me two seconds ago!” It was too much. The frustration. Nothing good lasted, even for a minute. “Why can’t you try, Mum? Please just try to remember? Just try. Please!”
Her mother’s lip was trembling. “There’s no need to shout. Who are you? What is this place?”
Annie felt a hand on her shoulder. Dr. Quarani, gently warning her. Her eyes brimmed. “She knew me. She knew me and now she—”
“It will always be like this, Annie. Like the sun. Coming, then going. At least you had a moment.”
Annie nodded, wiping her hands over her face. “Thank you, Doctor. Thanks for helping. I hope we’ll see you again very soon.”
He raised a hand in farewell. “Be well, Annie.”
As she guided her confused mother out to find a taxi, she looked for Jonny at the bus stop, but he was nowhere to be seen. The little square of ground he’d sat on was quickly fading to the same color as everything else, as if he’d never been there, either. It wasn’t right, Annie thought, how quickly the world moved on, forgot about you. Even someone like Polly would soon be left behind, with no trace of her remaining.
DAY 95
Go to a party
Annie hovered outside on the pavement, the huge gift-wrapped present slipping in her hands. She could imagine Polly urging her on. Just go in. What have you got to lose?
Luckily, the door opened as she stood there. Miriam was wearing a party hat and an adult Elsa from Frozen costume. “Saw you from the window. You coming in or what?”
“Um, I was thinking about it.”
“We’ve got cake. And costumes. And fairy wings.”
“Cake is good.” Cautiously, Annie began to move toward the door. The memories of this same day two years ago were flooding her. Running out to her car, screaming in Mike’s face, driving off without him.
Miriam put an arm around her. “Hey, it’s okay. Today’s another day, yeah?”
“Mummy, Mummy, can I have my cake now?” Behind Miriam, a small girl was dressed as a mini Elsa, a large badge with the number three on it pinned to her chest.
Annie’s heart contracted: she was so beautiful. Huge dark eyes, red ribbon threaded through her hair. A little girl she might never have known, never have seen again, if it wasn’t for Polly’s interference. She bent down, still clutching on to the overlarge present. “Hi, Jasmine. I’m Annie. Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
DAY 96
Join a club
“Hi,” said Annie. “Is this, um, are you the gardeners?”
Stupid question. Why else would a group of people be gathered around a patch of waste ground behind a bus shelter, leaning on spades and pulling up weeds?
A woman with a baby in a sling said, “We sure are. Come to join us? I’m Kate and this is Finn.”
Annie looked at the little face peeping out, and realized it didn’t hurt as much as it used to. She could smile at a baby now without always seeing Jacob, his small body on that terrible morning, his skin already cold. It would never leave her, not really, and she didn’t want it to. But at least she could function again. “I’m Annie. What can I do?”
“You could help Geoff pull up those weeds over there, maybe.”
Geoff was an older man in a Rolling Stones T-shirt and white beard. He took off his soil-covered glove to shake her hand. “Welcome, Annie. Know your way around a trowel, do you?”
“I think so.” She put down her mat and knelt, feeling the give of the earth beneath her. This patch of ground didn’t look like much now—sprouting with cow parsley and nettles, filled with broken bottles and no doubt worse—but with a bit of work she knew they could make it flower again.
DAY 97
Take a step forward
“Hey, Annie!”
She turned, puzzled to see a man coming toward her on the high street. He was clean-shaven, with short dark hair, and she wouldn’t have known him except for the blue coat. She’d no idea he was so tall standing up. “Jonny? Is that you?”
“It’s me.” He laughed at her face. “I just had a wash and shave, is all.”
“Wow! You got into a shelter?”
“For now.” He pulled a face. “It’s not easy, as you know. I got a shower at least.”
“I’m so pleased. I wondered where you’d gone.”
“How’s the old bus stop?” he said, almost nostalgically.
“I haven’t been for a few days. My mum’s out now.”
“And your mate?”
Annie just shrugged in answer, and her eyes filled with tears again.
“Ah, shit, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It was always coming.”
“She seemed really nice. Like a really kind person.”
“Well, she was sort of bossy, and self-centered, and a l
ittle crazy at times, but yeah, she was. She was really, really kind.”
There was a short awkward pause. “Well, I have to go. We have a curfew. But thank you once again, okay?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You talked to me. Like I was a person. That means more than you know.” He set off down the street with a jaunty wave, and Annie watched him go.
DAY 98
Decorate your home
Annie wished she hadn’t bought quite so many tins of paint. She was struggling to carry them home from the shops. But it was so exciting—the pale greens, the light blues, the yellows and reds and purples. Her landlord had said she could paint the kitchen as long as she paid for it herself, so she’d gone mad collecting samples. It was the first time she’d made these kind of decisions on her own, without ringing her mother or Jane or Mike for backup. It was just her now. And that was okay.
She stopped to rest for a moment, huffing and puffing, feeling the sweat on her back. It was going to be a beautiful summer, she thought. She’d always loved this time of year—flowers bursting out and the days lengthening and just a sense of hope somehow. And Polly was not here to see it. Polly had had her last summer, and winter and everything else. But Annie had many more to come, hopefully, and she better start making the most of them.
Stooping to pick up the bag of tins, she saw a familiar figure come out of the church hall opposite. There was a printed sign tied to the railings that read Slimming World. The woman, who wore a kaftan with dogs printed on it, paused by the gate, looked around her furtively, then unwrapped a Double Decker bar from her bag and started cramming it in her mouth, smearing chocolate over her face.
Annie thought about walking away—after all, it was Sharon—but something made her raise a hand, and wave.
Sharon squinted, then raised one chocolaty hand herself, and waved back. Annie didn’t go over to say hi. One thing at a time, she thought.
DAY 99
Send a letter
Ms. Annie Hebden, née Clarke. The letter looked official, printed on stiff cream paper. Annie picked it off the mat and recognized the logo of Polly’s solicitor. She tore it open, heart hammering. Enclosed was another letter, in a lilac envelope that was stuck over in stars and hearts, as if Annie had suddenly acquired a ten-year-old pen pal.
She sat down at the table to open it, knowing it would be something important. After all, it was from Polly. Anything less than explosive wasn’t her style.
My dearest Angry Annie, my Betty Buzzkill,
Don’t worry, I’m not writing from beyond the grave. I’ve arranged to have this posted to you a little while after I go, because I know you’ll need reminding of a few things. And I know how stubborn both you and Dr. Max are.
People say you should only regret the things you haven’t done. This is clearly bollocks, because what if you started World War III or bought a load of Blu-ray discs or something? One thing I regret is that I never pushed you to ask out Dr. Max. I was a little jealous, you see. That you’d get to live and fall in love and it was all over for me. Forgive me for that? You are very sad and he is very angry, but I feel you could make each other a little less so. I very much doubt you will be speaking right now, if I know either of you, so here is my message from beyond: go after him. Be happy, Annie. You deserve it. You’ve had more than your fair share of the other thing.
If I’m wrong and you’re already together, then fine, you win, and say hi to him for me. Do not start ironing his shirts.
I don’t know if I believe in heaven or if I’d get in, anyway, but if I’m also wrong about all of that, then you can bet your sweet ass I’m going to find Jacob and your dad and give them big old hugs from you. Not that they will know who the strange lady with the bald head is.
With all my love and all my life,
Polly xxxxx
Annie wiped away the tears that had fallen on the letter, smudging the bright purple ink. Bloody Polly. Bloody, awful, amazing, irreplaceable Polly. What would she do without her to argue with? She could even hear her voice in her head, urging her on.
But he went away. He said no.
He was just upset. He blamed himself.
But he might say no again.
Annieeeee—what do you have to lose?
But I don’t know where he is!
Where the hell else could he be?
She laid down the letter, and picked up her phone, and started checking train times to Scotland.
DAY 100
Tell the truth
The tube was rammed again. Annie found herself crammed under the armpit of a sweaty businessman who had music seeping out from his headphones. She tried to channel Polly—Don’t get angry. Rise above it. A woman with a pushchair fought her way on, bashing into Annie’s ankle. She yelped.
“Sorry,” said the woman, who looked wild-eyed with stress. “It’s so busy.” The baby looked terrified at the crush of people around him, his red face smeared in some kind of organic baby food.
Annie laid a hand on the businessman’s arm. “What?” he said irritably, taking out an earbud. Annie realized she used to be that person. Burning with anger, drowning in sadness. Infecting everyone around her with her own toxic pain.
“Do you think you might move a little? Let this lady in? Only, it’s very cramped. Thank you.”
He shuffled up, guiltily. “Sorry, didn’t see.”
“You can sit here,” called another man who’d previously been playing a game on his phone and studiously ignoring them.
“Or here if you want.” Suddenly people were standing up all over the carriage, guilted into doing something.
“Thank you,” said the woman to Annie, almost tearfully grateful as she sat down, unbuckling the baby from his chair. “Would you like to sit, too?”
“Oh, no.” Annie stayed where she was. “I’m just fine, thank you. Just fine.”
* * *
Since she was already doing something crazy, Annie had splashed out and bought herself a first-class ticket. She settled into the wide seats as the train pulled out of London, flashing past houses and towns and villages and fields, millions of lives Annie would never touch, millions of hearts that would beat and break without her ever knowing them. The attendants brought her tea and coffee, and she savored the comfort and quiet, the sense of forward motion calming her mind. This was a good idea. Even if nothing came of it, it was always better to be moving than standing still.
* * *
By the time she finally got there it was very late, dark as pitch and freezing. The ground was damp under her feet as she huffed over the field, raindrops delicate as diamonds beneath her walking boots. This time, she’d been ready for the cold, knowing that June in Scotland did not mean actual summer. With no pollution, the sky bristled with stars, a million tiny points of light. She almost couldn’t see him, sitting alone on the hillside.
She cleared her throat. What to say after all this? Now that Polly was dead. Luckily at that point she tripped over a rabbit hole and went flying at his feet. He jumped. “Jesus! Annie!”
“Er, hi.”
“Are ye hurt?” His accent seemed even stronger now.
“I’m fine. Well, my body is.”
“Why are you—what are you doing?”
“Your mum said you’d be out here. Sitting in a field in the dark.”
“I have a blanket. Sit down, you’ll catch a chill on that grass.”
“Is that really a thing?” She crept onto the soft checked blanket beside him.
“Well, no, but a wet bum does no one any good.” He was facing away from her, his face in shadow. She could see his beard had grown back, practically to mountain-man or hipster length already. “What are you doing here in a more general sense?”
“Um. Well. Looking for y
ou, since you ran out on me.”
“Hmph. I didn’t do that. I just had to go. I had to.”
Annie took a breath, her teeth chattering. She’d rehearsed this moment over and over on the train. “I thought you were going to kiss me once,” she began, launching right into it.
“Aye, I was. You pulled away.”
“I didn’t! I just—it threw me. It’s years since I did anything like that, and that was a complete disaster. I got my heart stomped on like an overripe strawberry. I just...couldn’t risk myself again. I didn’t know you well enough, I guess.”
“So the fact I spend my whole life trying to save wee babies and old folk and your friend, too, that counts for nothing with you?”
Annie sighed. “Can we not just blame it all on Polly, since she’s conveniently not about to mind? She convinced me we didn’t have time for romance.”
“She was so bloody selfish,” he said. “I mean, you didn’t even know her before this. Why did you care for her so much, and nurse her, and listen to all her nonsense? I had to be there every day, but you—you did it out of love. I’m in awe of that, Annie.”
Was. Did. The past tense still kicked. Polly had already been and done everything that she ever would. Their memories of her would crystallize like amber, and she would never be around to defend herself. “Because,” said Annie. “Look what she did for me. I was so miserable when I met her. I was so angry, and unhappy. I’d basically stopped living. But Polly—she lived more in these last few months than I ever had. And that made me ashamed. To have all this life, and be wasting it. That’s how she was.” Was.
“And I couldn’t save her. It was sort of the last straw. This amazing woman, this woman who was so alive, and I couldn’t do a thing to save her. Cancer one, me zero.”
“You did everything you could. She knew that.”
“I lost. She died.”
Annie sighed. “You must be used to patients dying on you. I mean—not to imply you’re a crap doctor or anything. But brain tumors, that’s a powerful enemy. Worse than Voldemort.”
