‘If you take the first shift,’ I suggested, ‘we can overlap for an hour or so in the middle and then I’ll stick around until they chuck me out and turn out the lights.’
‘That sounds sensible,’ she said, making my stockpile of persuasive counter-arguments totally redundant.
That’s where she’d be right now, I thought, as I glanced at the kitchen clock and bent to pull on my boots. There was still an hour or more before I needed to leave, but I was already dressed in my warm coat, with a thick scarf wound around my neck. The biting January wind hit me like a blast wave, trying to wrench the front door from my hand when I opened it. Today, the sea looked more grey than blue and was hitting the shoreline in angry, choppy waves. Grains of sand, whipped up by the wind, stung my cheeks, and yet I still paused on my way to the car to watch the wild but strangely mesmerising weather. Behind me, every windowpane was rattling in its frame, so violently I wondered how the cluster of beachside cottages had withstood the years and the elements for this long.
Safely inside Amelia’s car, I checked my bag again to make sure I had everything I needed to carry out my mission. It was all there, just as it had been the last five times I’d checked. If I needed proof that I was nervous about my plan, there it was in my new-found OCD.
As I pulled away from the cottage, I spotted a figure in the distance making their way up the lane. Their progress was slow, and the wind had bowed their body into a crescent shape, yet they continued trudging doggedly up the pathway. I guessed it was Amelia’s elderly fisherman neighbour, Tom Butler, who lived in the last cottage in the lane.
I slowed down to a crawl, anxious not to spray him with sand from the tyres. That still didn’t stop him from looking up and glaring angrily in my direction. I responded with a cheery wave and a smile that was at odds with the colourful expletive I muttered under my breath.And they say New Yorkers make bad neighbours.
*
I found a town with a Boots self-service photo-station and, as I was running late, I parked Amelia’s car on a private forecourt and prayed I wouldn’t return to find its tyres clamped. Twenty minutes later, as I hurried back through a sudden downpour, I noticed something pinioned beneath one of the wiper blades. Swearing softly, I pulled the sodden piece of paper from the windscreen, not bothering to examine it until I was back in the car. Thankfully, it wasn’t a parking fine, just a very soggy flyer for the business on whose forecourt I was illegally parked. It was an unsubtle reminder that I wasn’t meant to be there.
The dashboard clock clicked like a metronome as I slid the photograph I’d just printed from its envelope and stared down for a long moment at Nick Whateverhisnamewas, the handsome stranger on the beach, who just so happened to be a doppelganger for my imaginary brother-in-law, Sam Wilson.
I’d remembered to bring along a pair of nail scissors and began rapidly snipping the photograph to shape.Are you sure about this?my inner Jiminy Cricket questioned one last time. I ignored him and carefully inserted the photograph into the locket.
8
My heart appeared to have moved to the back of my throat, where it was pounding uncomfortably, while everything I’d eaten today was suddenly spinning in my stomach on a fast cycle. I did my best to ignore my treacherous internal organs as I exited the lift and pressed the buzzer to gain entry to Amelia’s ward. I was starting to recognise the nursing staff, and the one who let me in was one of my favourites.
‘Good afternoon, Amelia’s sister,’ she said with a smile.
Once, long ago, I would have bristled at that. Back then, I hadn’t wanted any of my sister’s hand-me-downs – and that included her face. It was hard to remember why it had bothered me so much, because now that constant physical reminder of what future me would look like felt like a unique and magical gift.
‘How is she doing today?’ I asked while slathering liberal amounts of disinfectant on to my hands.
‘She had a couple of wobbly moments earlier,’ the nurse said, picking her words with deliberate care. ‘I think she’s feeling frustrated and beginning to suspect that no one really believes her.’
I pulled my tote bag closer to my side. ‘Hopefully she’ll feel a little better about that after today.’ The nurse’s eyebrows rose, but I chose not to elaborate. I’d told no one what I was planning to do: not Mum, not the doctors, not even Jeff when he’d called for a brief update on my drive to the hospital. Although admittedly he’d been more interested in the date of my return than Amelia’s progress. In fact, there was only one person who knew anything about my deception – a man called Nick – and as I was unlikely ever to see him again, he didn’t count.
There were dark panda-like shadows beneath Amelia’s eyes, even though I knew they gave her something to help her sleep at night. Fear for her health nudged the guilt aside. Nothing was more important than getting her well again.
‘Hello, you,’ I said, dropping my bag and coat on to one of the visitor chairs and crossing to the bed. I hugged Amelia tightly, aware that bones that used to be more deeply set were suddenly much closer to the surface.
I bent to kiss Mum’s cheek, knowing from the way she squeezed my hand that the first part of today’s visit hadn’t been an entirely smooth ride. Well, that was all about to change.
Amelia’s eyes darted expectantly from my face to my handbag. It was hard to ignore the fleeting pang of disappointment that Mum and I were no longer enough for her. Being eclipsed by a life partner would have stung but being eclipsed by one who didn’t even exist hurt a hell of a lot more.
‘Did you look where I said?’ Amelia asked now, her voice actually trembling with urgency. ‘Did you find it?’
There was one last moment to do the right thing here. Except I no longer knew what that was.
‘Yes, I found it,’ I said, pasting what I hoped looked like a natural smile on my lips. ‘I don’t know how I managed to miss it before,’ I added, as I opened my bag.
I felt rather than saw the question in my mother’s eyes as I pulled out the velvet box and sprang open the lid. The moment felt weighty with déjà vu as I extracted the locket and passed it to its rightful owner.
‘Lexi?’ questioned Mum, so softly that I only just heard her.
She was staring up at me, a worried expression on her face. I gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of my head and turned my attention back to my sister, who was clutching the locket in her hand as though scared it might suddenly be snatched away from her. I thought she’d fall eagerly on the clasp, but she was taking her time, drawing out the big reveal in an almost theatrical way.
‘Now you’ll see…’ she said at last. There was a small secret expression on her face and for a moment reality and fantasy blurred in confusion. Amelia was positive the locket held a photograph of the man she’d fallen in love with, and suddenly I wasn’t sure if I’d done something really, really stupid. But it was too late to worry about that now, as with a small click the locket sprang open.
Time didn’t really stand still as she looked down at the photograph… but it felt like everything was on pause. Amelia’s face gave nothing away – and I, for one, knew better than anyone how to identify every emotion on those features.
The smile, when it came, was wider, deeper and more heartfelt than anything I’d seen before. It was a bride on her wedding day smile, or the one you give when your newborn baby is placed in your arms for the first time. I’d experienced neither of those things, nor had Amelia, but that didn’t seem to matter.
