Cinnamon Twigs (40 page)

             
‘Yes.’

             
‘I’ll call this number tomorrow at noon, your time.’

             
‘Okay. Bye, mate. And thanks.’

             
Jonathon arrived at the island three days later. I kissed Soraya’s cheek and said goodbye.

             
‘Thank you so much, Soraya.’

             
Tears gushed from her eyes. She wrapped her arms around me and sobbed.

             
‘Look after yourself,’ she said.

             
‘You too.’

             
And that marked the end of my stay on the island. I was going back home. Back where I belonged. Lauren had told Jonathon that she forgave me. I’d been a fucking idiot but all that mattered was she’d get to be with me again. She wanted me back so I could see our child. I couldn’t wait to see her again and start a family. We’d been too scared to try for another baby. But things had changed. A new life had come so unexpectedly. Lauren was almost ready to give birth. She wanted to have our baby in Cardiff. I knew I could deal with the tabloid gossip and possible trials once I was reunited with my princess. Nine months had passed, and in that time I’d grown so much stronger as a person. Nine long months. That period couldn’t part us. We could ignore time’s boundaries together.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Beautiful Dreams

I came back to Cardiff to be swamped by hordes of incensed photographers and journalists, an eternal sea of columnists and fans. I’d grown accustomed to the calmness of the island, but this was my world, and here it was, all before me.

              I pushed through the multitudinous figures, through the sea of red, and traveled to the hospital. Lauren, bang on cue, had gone into labor. I sprinted through the hospital entrance. I couldn’t wait to see my baby. By time I got to the hospital, Lauren had already given birth.

             
It had all gone terribly wrong. Lauren had to have a Caesarean. She was under spinal anesthesia. Doctors didn’t know what the problem was. All they knew was that Lauren had lost a lot of blood. She’d complained about feeling nauseas and was injected with Metoclopramide. Then after becoming delirious she fell into a coma.

             
She’d given birth to a healthy, six-pound baby girl. She told the doctors during labor that she would name the baby Emily if it were a girl. Emily Abigail Mace. I stood next to Lauren’s bed. The sunlight sailing through the window cast a glow over my beautiful angel. Her eyes were shut dreamingly. Her breathing soft and gentle. I brushed her hair away from her forehead and touched her pale cheek. It was so good to see her again, but all I wanted was for her to open her eyes and smile at me.

             
‘Please wake up, Lauren. Wake up and see our gorgeous girl.’ I knelt down and kissed her dry lips.

             
Emily had wide blue eyes and a tuft of blonde hair. I picked her up and held her in my arms. She gazed at me, her eyes growing wider with curiosity. A blue ocean of youth and mortality swept over my face.

             
‘Hello, Emily.’ I smiled down at her. ‘You’re a gorgeous little girl. You look just like your mummy.’

             
I kissed her forehead, inhaled her newborn scent. She wrapped her hand around my finger and squeezed. Her
whole
tiny hand around my finger. She was amazing.

             
‘Please, Lauren. Please wake up and see our baby girl!’

             
But Lauren didn’t stir. I stayed in the hospital overnight and sat next to her bed, running my fingers through her silken hair. Emily peered at me, totally unaware of what was happening, the danger that faced her mum.

             
Lauren didn’t wake up that night. Or the next night. Or the night after that. During my stay at the island, she’d given television interviews pleading for any information concerning my whereabouts. She couldn’t believe I’d taken my own life, knew me too well. I’ve seen the interviews of her teary-eyed, telling the world how much she missed me. People thought she was mad for going along with the conspiracy theorists, for believing I had faked my death. She’d given up everything in the hope of finding me, including her teaching job. And now I was back, she didn’t even know I was beside her. It was devastating.

I
traveled to St Mary’s Catholic Church on the fourth evening, to the place where we’d been married. I wanted to pray, which was something I hadn’t done for a long time.

             
Darkness swept over the stained glass windows, the statue of Jesus hanging on the cross and the rows of seats. It enveloped the painted parables, the frozen saints and the figure of a priest as he ambled towards me. He smiled, radiating youth, and ran his hand through his dark matted hair before greeting me.

             
‘It’s very nice to meet you,’ he said. ‘My name is Father Jeffries.’

             
‘I remember Father Dwyer.’

             
‘Yes, he baptized and married you, didn’t he?’

             
‘That’s right. He must be long gone now.’

             
The priest nodded and looked down at me as I kneeled.

             
‘He was a great man.’ He beamed.

             
‘Yeah, he was.’

             
‘And very intelligent, though people didn’t always realize. He read many books. He was a big fan of poetry.’

             
‘I think he was a fan of Shakespeare.’ I remembered the time when he’d observed Lauren’s graceful step and quoted from
Romeo and Juliet
.

             
‘Yes, I think that’s right. He liked to recite the likes of Milton and Shakespeare, as well as preaching the word of God.’

             
‘I have a lot of memories of this place.’

             
It had been so long since I’d stood there with my new bride, while my mother sat in one of those seats, a sad smile etched on her face.

             
The priest touched my shoulder.

             
‘I’ve been a fool…’

             
‘We all make mistakes. God acknowledges that.’ He gave me a searching look.

             
I had half expected him to denounce me for abandoning my marriage, for my unchristian works and impious career.

             
‘You must believe in God. When times are hard, you must believe. He is there for you. He is there for those who have fallen asleep in Him.’

             
‘I have to believe in something,’ I said. ‘But I can’t bear to lose her! I shouldn’t have left her. I can’t believe this is happening.’

             
Father Jeffries closed his eyes and prayed a silent prayer. I looked up at the statue of Christ, his forehead stained with the blood of sacrifice. His tearful eyes watched over me as I prayed.

             
‘I have to go back to the hospital,’ I said, once I’d finished praying.

             
I walked out of the church and through the soundless dark. I knew. I knew what was going to happen. What had to happen.

             
I had to let Lauren go. Time passed. The hours became days, the days became weeks, and the weeks became months. Lauren still looked as if she were alive, though she grew pale and gaunt. She was still breathing, but the cessation of her brainstem functions meant she had passed on.

             
On that final morning, I held Lauren’s warm hand in mine. I kissed her lips and listened to her soft breathing, until her breathing became so soft that it ceased to be.

             
‘
Bonne nuit et beaux rêves
… Have beautiful dreams, babes,’ I whispered.

             
The stifling heat of that day hit me as I left the hospital with Emily in my arms. A crowd of photographers watched me, but they didn’t take any photographs. They just observed in penitent silence. They knew I’d lost my princess. Another chapter had been written, another image of horror for the tabloid press. But even though she’d just left me, I could still feel Lauren’s presence - especially when I gazed into Emily’s blue eyes.

                                          *

The hearse journeyed through the bustling streets, its route carpeted by an array of flowers: bouquets of lavender, white roses, gerbera daisies and delphiniums. Wreaths were fashioned into the word ‘princess’, and colorful coffin sprays lay on the casket. The sun stood motionless, its gentle beams of light trickling over the cracked paths, the grey buildings and steeple tops. And the day marched on, ceaseless, merciless and disregarding.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Heaven Has No Time

I bought a place in Barr
y on an estate near Gibbonsdown and awaited the legal consequences of faking my death. I focused on raising Emily up, my gift from Lauren. She looked so much like her mother that watching her made me feel slightly at ease. But sometimes I’d look into her eyes and feel like a knife had just cut through my windpipe. Lauren was still here, and yet she was gone.

             
I invited Lisa and Elliott to my place for lunch one day. They were reminders of my childhood and I wanted to see them again. Elliott had married a gorgeous blonde named Laura. He’d received critical acclaim for his latest novel
Cosmeston Lakes
, and was at the height of his authorial capabilities. He’d just been hired as screenwriter for a new adventure television series about four magical treasures from Irish mythology.

             
Lisa had married a Scottish born civil engineer named James. They had two little boys, who both had dark hair and Lisa’s green eyes.

             
Elliott, Lisa and I sat at an oak dining table, while Lisa’s boys played with Emily. I’d prepared a meal of tagliatelle with Bolognese sauce. As I poured their drinks, I told Elliott and Lisa that I wanted no sympathy. I still had my memories, and Lauren had left me a gorgeous baby girl. The newspapers were full of nonsense. I would explain to them how stupid I’d been.

             
‘Well, you’re a bigger mystery than Edwin Drood!’ Elliott said.

             
I told them about the island and how I’d recognized my mistake. And then we talked about other things. We spoke about our separate lives, the diverging paths we’d taken.

             
Emily had fallen asleep on a soft rug in the corner of the room, so I carried her upstairs to her cot. She woke up, crying for another dummy, even though she had one in her mouth.

             
‘I can’t see your smile now,’ I whispered, as I handed her the other dummy.

             
She closed her little eyes and fell asleep. I kissed her forehead and went downstairs again.

             
‘It’s funny,’ Lisa said, ‘how things turn out.’

             
‘Yeah.’ I poured myself another drink. ‘It really is.’

             
‘Sometimes, I feel we have very little control. Someone else writes our lives for us. We’re just characters, like the ones in your books.’

             
‘Things rarely go to plan.’ Elliott sampled his wine.

             
‘But you’re both happy, right?’ I smiled at Lisa.

             
‘Yep. I’m happy,’ Elliott said.

             
‘Me too.’ Lisa grinned.

             
‘We must take the tide by the flood,’ I said. ‘There are things we lose and things we gain. But we mustn’t forget our roots. That’s why I asked you to come here. We’ve been parted and reunited on various occasions. And I’m sure that, given our busy lives, we still won’t see each other very often.’

             
‘That doesn’t have to be the case,’ Elliott interposed.

             
‘Yeah, I’d happily meet up with you guys whenever possible,’ Lisa added, her eyes growing big like springtime leaves.

             
‘Okay. I’d like that very much!’ I laughed. ‘But I’m kinda dependent on fate.’

             
‘You mean your upcoming court appearance?’ Elliott asked.

             
‘Yeah.’

             
‘There’s every chance you’ll get off lightly, given your circumstances…’

             
‘I don’t know. What matters is that we never forget each other, guys.’

             
‘Oh, Daniel, you’re such a soppy git. We’ll always remember you and your wild stories!’