Page 79 of All the Things We Never Knew

‘I did. I… I’ve never heard anything like it before. I was only there because I hoped to talk to you about Nigel Graham.’

‘Nigel.’ He said the name slowly, as if he’d forgotten how to pronounce it and was remembering. ‘Of course. Are you… Is he here?’

His eyes left my face, glancing involuntarily around.

‘No,’ I said. Then I added gently, ‘He passed away four months ago. We were close. I wanted to find the person who he… To find you.’

The smile left his face, and he turned pale.

‘We should sit down,’ he said, and it looked to me as if he needed to sit. ‘Would you like something? A coffee?’

The cadence of his voice was familiar, and I realised it was a stronger version of the accent that had been almost imperceptible in Gray’s voice.

I shook my head. He led me through the lobby, away from the crowds to a sofa that faced away from the room, another glossy table holding newspapers in front of it. I sat down, and he joined me, close enough to touch.

‘This is totally weird,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry to accost you like this. You must think I’m⁠—’

‘Some kind of nutter?’ He smiled, and I felt immediately more at ease. ‘Maybe, at first, when I got your message. But you knew Nigel. It’s been a long time. I’m sorry to hear he passed away. What happened?’

I told him. It had been long enough, now, that I could talk about Gray without crying, but I still heard my breath catch when I said that his cancer had not been treatable.

When Joel heard that, his face became still.

‘I see,’ he said. ‘Because of what he did for me.’

I shook my head. ‘It’s not just that. Gray – Nigel – he told me that, before he met me, his health wasn’t the best. He didn’t look after himself. He was pre-diabetic. The damage that he did to his body wasn’t just because he had only one kidney.’

‘It can’t have helped, though.’

‘Well, perhaps not. But neither of you could have known.’

‘Still. I’m alive now and he’s not.’ He spoke with a kind of hesitancy, as if he was learning a foreign language. ‘If it wasn’t for what he did, it would likely be the other way around.’

Gently, I asked, ‘Are you able to tell me what led to it?’

He nodded. ‘I have a condition called Fabry disease. It’s⁠—’

‘Alpha-galactosidase A deficiency,’ I said.

‘Nigel told you?’

‘No. He never really talked about it. But after – after his death, I wanted to find out more about… well, about you. I looked into it. I’m a nurse – I’m interested in stuff like that.’

‘Then you know it presents with a range of symptoms. I’m receiving chaperone therapy now – I’m perfectly well. Treatment has advanced hugely. But twenty-five years ago, I wasn’t. I was diagnosed relatively late, in my late teens. By the time I was in my third year at university my kidneys were failing. I thought it was a death sentence – that, or I’d need dialysis all my life.’

‘Which wouldn’t exactly have been compatible with being a professional musician,’ I guessed.

‘Exactly. Hospital visits three times a week and spending months on tour internationally kind of don’t go well together. And that was what I always wanted. My dream.’

I could imagine it. Actually, I didn’t need to, because I’d seen it far too often: footballers’ careers shattered before they’d properly got started by injury. Young women on the cusp of starting families having their lives derailed by a cancer diagnosis. Little children surviving road accidents with life-changing injuries.

But that hadn’t happened to Joel. Joel was right here, living his dream.

‘And so Gray offered…?’ I hazarded.

‘He did. We’d lost touch, after we left school. He made it pretty clear that he wanted to put that part of his life behind him, and that meant putting me behind him too. It was – it hurt me. It came as a shock, because we had been the sort of friends you think you’ll be forever. But at that time of life – leaving school, starting university – people move on and friendships change. So I accepted that.’

‘But you didn’t lose touch?’