Don't Look Back (28 page)

‘It would have been easier not to …'

‘For you, maybe,' I growled.

‘You really think so?' he answered, overcome with emotion. ‘But the truth is … I was glad not to. It was important to know you didn't just feel sorry for me.'

I rubbed my eyes, which felt raw, as if they'd never seen daylight before. ‘Bone-marrow transplant?'

He gave a hollow laugh. ‘Been there, done that. As well as radiation therapy, chemo, blood transfusions, even stem-cell transplant … They all eventually failed and I was back to the start … except … there's nowhere left to go.'

‘Don't be stupid,' I snapped, with increasing desperation. ‘There's always something new to try.'

‘Eight years.' He grimaced. ‘That's how long I've been having treatment. I barely remember a time before … a time when I wasn't ill.'

We were silent for a few minutes, my breathing now as erratic as his. I was clutching at straws, dwindling hope making me desperate. Medical mistakes happened all the time. James's condition was misdiagnosed from the very outset. He didn't look as though he was drawing his last breath.

‘I've seen the terminally ill, James. They don't look like you –'

‘I know,' he interrupted with pride. ‘This time with you is the reason I had to return here … to remember how it feels to really live and to fall in love. You're my destiny, Sinead, but from the second we met, I was leaving you. I tried to go home to spare you this.'

Acute shock hadn't totally taken away my powers of reasoning. I flexed my fingers. ‘Is there anything more that medicine could offer you, anything at all?'

James began pulling up tufts of grass, playing for time, his forehead a mass of deep creases. ‘With more invasive procedures, maybe a few weeks. They can give me more time, but not
quality
time.' His eyes sought mine. ‘I'm dead already, Sinead.'

I tried to compose myself as his words hit home. Dad told me once that part of being a good doctor was knowing when to stop trying, that dying well was as important as living well. I selfishly wanted to shout or stamp my feet, to rage at the world. I wanted to beg James to have more treatment for my sake, to take every second offered to him. But when I could finally bring myself to look deep into his
eyes I knew what he was asking me to do – to accept the truth of this. If you love someone, you have to set them free, Harry had told me. And that's what James was asking me to do now. But he was mad if he thought I was going to let him go without me.

‘I'll come with you –'

James visibly shuddered and wrapped his arms tightly around his body. ‘You mustn't give up your life for me.'

I yanked my hair, my voice rising hysterically. ‘Maybe I want to. Maybe there's nothing else here for me.'

‘You'll have a great career, meet someone else and—'

‘I don't have a future,' I interrupted with stubborn fury.

‘Promise me you won't try and follow me. Promise me you won't …' James's breathing became increasingly laboured.

This was all wrong. I'd made James even more agitated. I had to be strong for him. My one secret solace was that I wouldn't let him go without me, although I would strenuously deny my intention. I crossed my fingers behind my back and made soothing noises to reassure him that I wasn't serious. The cruelty of this moment hit me like a blow to the stomach. I had gone to sleep planning our life together and awoke to find we had only hours left before we had to say goodbye forever.

I smiled through unshed tears. ‘We got old. Remember my dream? We had more than two weeks – we had a lifetime.'

‘We had a lifetime.' He grinned, and his face looked boyish again.

‘Some people reach old age,' I whispered thickly, ‘but they don't really live, they just exist.' I pulled him down on to the grass with me, face to face, squinting in the burgeoning light. ‘The sun isn't up yet. Are you in any pain?'

‘Not when I'm with you,' he murmured with gratitude. ‘You can never know what this means. I've imagined tubes and drips … a breathing mask … machines to record every heartbeat. If I'd ever thought it could be this way, I wouldn't have been afraid.'

‘And why should you be?' I insisted, each word killing me a little more. ‘There's nothing to fear.'

‘When you tell me that, suddenly I believe it.'

It took every last bit of my reserve to continue. ‘I almost didn't meet you again. I had an accident at Patrick's flat and nearly died. It was so weird because … right at the end … I accepted it.' I caught my tear before it splashed on to him. ‘One day with you is worth a lifetime.'

‘That's so sweet,' he answered, with a tired sigh.

A disturbing thought suddenly came to me, chilling me to the core. ‘James? Your mum … !'

‘We've already spoken,' he said with unbearable effort. ‘She had a kind of … sixth sense that something was wrong and she's at the airport now. I told her about you.'

‘What if … ?' My throat closed over.

‘If she doesn't make it?' James finished, and his eyes
were glassy pools of grief. ‘She told me the strangest thing, Sinead – that she had said goodbye every single day of my illness and … each extra second was a gift.'

A sea of salty tears gushed down my face. I'd been desperate to have a heart and now I knew how it felt when it shattered into a million pieces. After a while James slipped out of consciousness but I continued talking. The last sense to disappear is hearing, Dad had told me. I wanted James to listen to my voice, to take it with him wherever he went. I told him how the clouds were looking today and how the sunlight felt on my skin. I described the trees and the flowers that he loved. I'd been so blind to the beauty all around, but now I could see them through his eyes and describe each petal and leaf. I told him again and again that I loved him. He was more than just comfortable – that awful phrase used to describe end-of-life patients; his face was suffused with happiness and peace.

I wept silently. ‘
What would be the point of love if it wasn't everlasting?
'

These were the final words I spoke to him. He opened his eyes and took a deep juddering breath. I didn't need a heart monitor to tell me it was his last. Inside I was imploding in one long silent scream, but I stayed with James in my arms, stroking his golden hair and resting my cheek against his until he grew cool to the touch. Right until the end I prayed for a miracle, but they didn't happen for people like me.

It didn't seem possible, but it was a beautiful new day. I tried to get my head around an inexplicable new reality – the sun would rise and set, the moon still wax and wane and the world keep spinning on its axis even though James was no longer living in it. I left him lying on a carpet of leaves, looking like an angel. Only this time he wasn't sleeping. Despair now enveloped me like a black suffocating cloud. I wouldn't delay my plan to follow him. He might get too far ahead of me. I didn't know how death worked, but I wasn't taking any chances. My feet took me further into the wood until the earthy dank smell reached me. I staggered on, desperate to reach the pond. My actions were totally premeditated and focused. Death had tried to claim me before – now I was giving myself to it. I waded into the water without undressing, hoping that my clothes would weigh me down and make this easier. Today there'd be no one to save me. I wouldn't even take a gulp of air before being pulled under.

I tensed, expecting to hear the first underwater rumblings, but nothing disturbed the still surface. My body stayed immobile and poised for what felt like forever, willing the end to come swiftly. I submerged my head in the cloudy depths again and again, but each time I spluttered to the surface. Eventually I had to limp out. Foolishness was replaced by anger when I realized how futile this was. There was nothing here to injure me. It had always been my mind simply playing tricks. But now that there was no way to reach James, the impact of his death hit me anew.

The scream came from deep within me and it was a relief to let go. Even the trees seemed to understand and their lush canopy of leaves and branches didn't deaden my scream but appeared to open to release my fury and impotence into the atmosphere. My teeth ground together and must have nicked my tongue because I could taste blood. I struck the nearest tree with my fist, the bark split open like a cracked nut, the diamond pattern imprinting itself in my flesh. I reeled slightly, the physical pain momentarily overshadowing the acute pain inside. Where would I go and what would I do without James? I couldn't leave Benedict House because I felt close to him here. I'd be compelled to tour the estate mourning him, hot tears burning my cheeks, even though it felt like a life sentence. A shudder ran down my spine.

‘Your destiny is to stay here in a prison of your own choosing. The earth will weep with you and from your tears will spring forth new shoots.'

James's gran must have known of his condition and predicted my suffering, almost taunted me.

Sister Catherine's voice made me jump. ‘This isn't the answer, Sinead.'

She was standing close by, her hands linked before her. She must have heard me scream but didn't ask why. By her expression, it seemed as if she already knew about James, and that I was trying to join him.

My fingers traced the abrasion on my fist. ‘Then what is?' I asked heatedly.

‘True love cannot be torn asunder.'

Her words didn't comfort me. ‘I don't have your faith. And I've no idea where James is.'

Her smile was beatific. ‘James is waiting for you.'

‘How can he be?' I choked out. ‘I watched him die.'

She shook her head slowly but didn't explain. ‘Your trial has finished, Sinead. You must now achieve what you came here for and find your brother.'

‘Of course … but I can't forget James … I can't just leave him –'

‘You don't have to. Your answers lie in the same place.'

Her words only confused me more. ‘We had a deal,' I cried out. ‘You promised you'd tell me—'

‘
Guide
you,' she interjected, ‘when the time was right.'

‘Then tell me where the first church stood.'

She pressed her lips together and spoke carefully. ‘The site is sacred, Sinead. That should suffice.'

‘If …
When
I find the site, what should I do?'

‘Don't enter in haste or with animosity, Sinead. Clear your conscience first.'

‘How can I enter at all? It was demolished years ago.'

‘The foundations of the church can never be destroyed. You'll find a way.'

‘What if I can't?'

‘Face your fears. Your freedom is almost in sight. But don't delay. You don't have much time.'

I screwed up my eyes in despair. When I opened them again I was alone.

*

I returned to the weeping willow to discover that James's body had gone, although I could still see its impression on the flattened grass. Sister Catherine couldn't have moved him and there was no one else here capable of helping, unless – my knees gave way and I sank to the ground –
James is waiting for you
. There was only one way that James could be waiting for me – if he wasn't dead. Maybe I'd been wrong and his heart hadn't stopped beating. James's protracted illness could have somehow slowed his pulse to mimic death. Sister Catherine surely couldn't be that cruel. If he was alive, she would have told me right away, instead of baffling me again with her strange words. Or would she?

I felt woozy and took slow breaths through my mouth to calm my racing heartbeat. Was Sister Catherine testing my love for James, or my sense of duty towards my brother? Were their fates now bound together? Nothing made sense,
but I had to cling to the belief that James was still alive, and in finding Patrick I would be reunited with him. Everything hinged on finding the first church, but in the last few days James and I had covered almost every inch of this estate. All Sister Catherine would tell me was that the site was sacred, as if that should be enough for me to find it. But what if it wasn't enough? What if I wasn't up to the task? The thought of what was at stake was terrifying.

I walked and walked, but every path seemed to lead back to the weeping willow. When I found myself back there for the third time I threw my arms around Orpheus, glad of something to hold on to. I smiled sadly, remembering how James had moved him to play a joke on me. He thought that he belonged over the bridge with the dead. There was no blinding flash of light. When the answer came to me, it was a slow, gentle realization that made me almost believe James had whispered the words in my ear. He hadn't been allowed to play near the graves because the land was blessed. The first church and the burial site must be one and the same. Sister Catherine had waited until my trial was over to give me the final piece of the puzzle. I trembled at the thought of what might lie ahead.

I made my way to the glade and my eyes scanned the bridge. I heard a low warning growl and my stomach pitched with fear. Sister Catherine hadn't told me how to get past Cerberus, but she had warned me that I didn't have much time. I had to do this and I had to do it now. I walked towards the giant dog, trying to appear as meek
and unthreatening as possible. Cerberus's ears immediately went back and he bared his teeth. My legs turned to jelly and my heart was thumping so loudly that it almost drowned out the sinister growling. I put one tentative foot on the first wooden slat, my mind teeming with unwelcome thoughts. James's dad had been gone for eight years, but the dog must have remained, surviving on wild rabbits and game. Now he would be used to killing and eating his prey raw. He lowered his front legs threateningly into the crouch position, which I knew was usually a prelude to attack. Even the snarl had changed into more of an excited yelp as though he had smelled blood. My vision began to mist and I took a step back, knowing I wasn't brave enough to do this. In that instant I heard a voice inside my head, ‘Face your demons, Sinead.'