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‘Yes.’ I sigh. ‘It’s weird. I thought everyone would try to persuade me to change my mind.’ By everyone, I mean Forrest and Rae. ‘But they haven’t. Like you, Bird, they understand.’
‘Are you OK?’ she says shyly.
‘I think so.’ My voice wavers. ‘I’m trying to keep my eye on the bigger picture.’
Then, because I know she’ll get it, I tell her about Forrest’s flashbacks. ‘He thinks we met before in another life.’
‘Wow.’ Her eyes widen. ‘That’s so cool. I’m totally convinced that when we leave this world, it isn’t the end.’ Her cheeks suddenly flush. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound insensitive.’
‘You didn’t,’ I tell her. ‘And please… Not enough people say it like it is. It’s a crazy world, isn’t it?’ My eyes meet hers. ‘I don’t have the answers – I’m feeling my way through life as much as anyone else.’ I pause. ‘Don’t change your plans, Bird. If there’s one thing I can say to you, it’s to follow your heart. It’s your life. It doesn’t matter what anyone else does or thinks. Live the wayyouwant to live.’ I pause, smiling slightly sadly. ‘But I have a feeling you already know that.’
Much later, even after a nap, I have a deep tiredness in my bones. Lying in bed, I listen to the sounds coming from the street below, the odd car passing by, the hum of voices – all sounds of life, but my mind is restless.
As I get up, it takes all my energy to change into a halter neck dress with a cardigan pulled over my shoulders, one of my scarves carefully tied around my fuzzy head, before picking up my key and going outside.
It’s rare these days that I go out on my own, and as I walk along the street I know so well, an unaccustomed sense of freedom comes over me. Instead of hurrying, I savour each step, not knowing how many more of them I have. But when I know what it’s like not to trust your legs, to be too weak to even venture out, just to be able to walk unaided feels like a blessing. I take in the shop windows filled with the new season’s clothes in rich autumn colours; the hand-made cards and gifts, the bouquets of flowers that are emblematic of significant moments in people’s lives. All of them small things in context, yet at the same time, the sentiment behind them imbuing them with meaning.
At the bottom of the High Street, I pause for a moment before heading for a bench under a tree overlooking the river. Sitting there, I look around, deliberately taking in details. I do that much more, these days. The song of a blackbird, the ripples left behind the swans gliding on the water, the softness of the breeze, the gentle sounds of Arundel life around me.
When I get home, as I open the door, Forrest is clattering about in the kitchen. Hearing me come in, he appears in the doorway.
‘Hey.’ He looks pleased with himself. ‘I’m glad you’re back.’
‘What are you up to?’ I smile at him.
‘Come and see!’
I follow him into the kitchen. The doors are open onto the garden, the breeze filtering through, as I take in the huge jug of brightly coloured flowers, the table laden with my favourite kinds of food.
‘This is wonderful.’ I turn to him. ‘Thank you.’
He pretends to bow. ‘I’ll get us a drink.’
He places two glasses of what looks like Prosecco on the table just as his face clouds over. ‘I had some news earlier – about Freya.’
I know he and Freya used to work together. ‘Is everything OK?’
He sighs. ‘Not really. One of her family was sick. Her sister. And she died last night.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ It doesn’t matter that I don’t know who he’s talking about. It’s death, again, omnipresent, at some point waiting for all of us.
As he goes on, I see the impact on Forrest, too. ‘It was expected, but she’ll be devastated.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say again, aware of a cloud hanging over us.
‘Makes you think, doesn’t it?’ He’s silent for a moment, then he picks up his glass, chinking it gently against mine. ‘Here’s to you and me.’
‘To us.’ As I look at him, there’s a crystalline clarity to my thoughts, as though life has become reduced to moments, each of which I’m determined to savour, and as I sip my drink, it’s like earlier as I’m soaking up details again. The icy coldness of my drink, the bubbles on my tongue, Forrest beside me, each carefully arranged plate of food, the scent of honeysuckle drifting through the open window.
Picking up a plate, he passes it to me. It’s so thoughtfully prepared – light, healthy food, the kind I love. ‘You need to eat,’ he says quietly.
Even though I’m not hungry, I do as he says, savouring this, too, until putting the empty plate down, I turn to Forrest. Reaching out my hand, I gently touch his face. ‘Thank you – for this.’ I pause, my eyes locked on his. ‘It’s wonderful – all of it. But you know what the best bit is?’ Leaning towards him, I kiss him.
That night, I sleep soundly, his arms wrapped around me, not stirring until the sun rises. I open my eyes to find him watching over me.
‘Hello.’ I trace the outline of his face with one of my fingers.
‘Hey.’ Taking my hand, he kisses it. ‘You look beautiful when you sleep.’
