‘They are my true family,’ she said firmly. ‘They took me in after my mother died, and loved me in a way my father never could. But I was so ashamed of what had happened that I never told them about my baby, aboutyou,’ she said, gesturing at Madeline. ‘In hindsight, I should have. They would have known what to do, and would have cared for me, but at the time I was so young and scared, my father made me believe that I’d brought great shame on my family, and that it was my duty to restore our wealth by marrying well, as if I had something to repent for. In truth, I think he simply wanted his status in society restored, and that was the only way he could see to make that happen.’
‘I wish I could have met Bernard, my father,’ Madeline said. ‘I can’t believe that he’s already gone.’
‘I want you to know that your father was loved and cherished until his very last breath. I was with him right until the end.’
Ella couldn’t take her eyes from Alexandra as her face came to life talking about the man who she’d clearly loved with all her heart.
34
ATHENS, 2022
Alexandra touched her palm softly to Bernard’s cheek. His skin was still soft beneath her fingertips, but it was a different type of soft now, with gentle wrinkles creasing it slightly. His hand rested against the small of her back, and as the music played they circled in little shuffles across the floor, their feet barely moving.
‘Once, we would have been as light-footed as elves,’ he whispered into her ear.
That made her laugh. She leaned back in his arms and looked up into his eyes, the way he looked at her as passionate now as it had been fifty years ago when they’d first danced.
‘Do you remember when we met?’
‘On your eighteenth birthday,’ he replied. ‘How could I ever forget?’
Alexandra smiled up at him once more, before moving closer so that she could touch her cheek to his. On the left side of his face there was an oxygen tube, their reminder that what they shared was coming to an end, that after so many years of being deprived of each other’s company, they were now on borrowed time.
But Alexandra didn’t want to dwell on the years they hadn’t spent together; she wanted to soak up every moment of being with Bernard. The man who’d told her that everything she’d ever dreamed of was possible; that she was capable of being the greatest musician in the world, if only she could believe in herself. Sometimes she tried to remember what it had felt like, to be so young and innocent, to truly believe that anythingwaspossible. But when she did that, all she could remember was Bernard, and the way he’d made her feel.
Bernard’s movements became even slower then, and she could tell that he was tiring. Alexandra held him more firmly in her arms and gently steered him back towards the bed. The nurses had been so kind to them, letting her stay by his bedside at all times of the day and night, and not batting an eyelid when she arrived with a stack of music to play all his favourite old songs. They most likely had a giggle at the two old people doing their shuffle dance in the hospital room, but bless them, they never tried to interrupt them or tell Alexandra to get him back to bed. They also never told her not to bother when she arrived with his favourite meals each night, even though he was scarcely able to swallow more than a mouthful or two. The cancer had ravaged his body, but she was determined to remind him of all the things he loved, of all the things they’d loved together; she still had so much to make up for. He was an old man made to appear even older by his illness; now an old man so close to the end that no one was brave enough to take away what little time they had left.
Alexandra helped to lower Bernard, fluffing the pillows behind him to make sure he was comfortable. But when she went to move away, his fingers closed around her wrist, still firm despite his frailness. But it was the way he looked at her that reminded her of the man he still was, his eyes still bright as they met hers.
‘Don’t go,’ he whispered.
‘I won’t,’ she said. ‘Remember what I told you, B? I’m never leaving you ever again. You will never have to be in this room alone, I promise.’
He smiled and relaxed back into the pillows, his eyes fluttering shut. She reached across to stroke his face, tenderly tracing her fingertips over his cheeks and down his shoulder, leaning forwards to press a kiss to his forehead. Her lips lingered, not wanting to pull away, even as her tears slid down her cheeks and wet his face.
So many years had been taken from them.Stolen from us. But no one could take this time from them. No one could steal these final moments they had together. Every second was precious, and they both knew it, which was why she would never leave his side.
She saw how dry his lips were and reached for an ice cube, gently touching it against his mouth and watching as his lips parted. She would have done anything for him,anythingto ease his pain, to take away some of what he was feeling.
‘Play for me,’ Bernard murmured, barely audible as she placed what was left of the ice cube back in the cup beside his bed.
And so she stood and went to her case, which was on the other side of his bed, taking out her violin and bow. Bernard’s eyes were still shut, but she knew that he would listen intently as she played. She was only pleased that he couldn’t see the pain on her face from playing for him, how much it hurt her to do the one thing she’d always done for him, to remember what it was like to play for him and only him when they’d both been young and so full of dreams. When anything had seemed possible.
Alexandra blinked away tears as she lifted her bow, positioning her instrument between her chin and shoulder, and taking a deep breath before beginning the piece. She played what she always played, the song she’d practised with Bernard all those years before, when she’d performed with his words of encouragement ringing in her ears. The piece of music she’d never been able to listen to in all their years apart without thinking of him, but that she’d remembered every night until they’d finally found each other again.
When she looked up, she saw that a group of nurses had gathered in the doorway, with not a dry eye among them, all silently watching as she played the song until the very end. Her heart ached with every stroke, but she didn’t stop. And when she’d finished, she moved on to another song he loved, and then another, as if she were on a stage with a collection of music to play. Because sometimes it was easier to lose oneself in music, that’s what her aunt had taught her—to play when your heart hurt the most, to distract yourself from life for at least a moment.
When she finally finished, her arm sore from holding the violin for so long, out of practice after so many years of not playing, she closed her eyes and let her breath shudder from her body. The pain of nursing Bernard, the anger at the time they’d lost, the desperation of wishing there was something she could do to ease his suffering—it all surged through her as her bow slid from her fingertips. Because the room suddenly felt empty.
When Alexandra looked over at Bernard, her heart stuttered; for she knew. He was gone. The love of her life had left the world listening to the pieces he loved the most, the music that had been as special to him as it had to her. She could feel that he was no longer there, that he’d been taken from her for good this time.
Alexandra went to his side, placing her violin beside him on the bed as she lowered herself over his body, her cheek to his chest. A hand touched her back, soothing her, a gentle palm against her spine, but she didn’t turn. She wasn’t ready to concede to anyone else that he’d gone yet, not even his nurses. Her tears wet the front of Bernard’s shirt, leaving him damp as her fingers curled around his hand, wishing they’d had more time, wishing she could have had even one more hour, one more day, one more week with the man she loved.
All those years they’d lost, all those decades she could have held him in her arms; the memories they could have created together.The children we could have had. The love we could have shared. The world we could have explored.
But in the end, it wasn’t the years they’d missed but memories of the years they’d shared that wrapped around her now, like the warm embrace of a lover. The day she’d seen her Bernard after decades parted—the moment she’d met his gaze and been reunited with the man she’d loved for her entire adult life—that was when her life had truly begun all over again.
And those were the memories she was going to hold on to until her own dying breath.
