Almost Forever: An emotional debut perfect for fans of Jojo Moyes. Laura Danks

I agreed again, running my fingers through his hair.

      We returned to London on Sunday morning because I was too weak to travel the day before, and with just one sleep until our wedding day, we only had enough time to swap the clothes in our luggage and get to the airport. Lucky for us we were going west and because of the different time zone, we would gain several hours.

      Monday morning arrived way too quickly and with our plane departing in a few hours we needed to get everything ready really fast.

      Still, it was not even eleven and we were showered and dressed, just about to finish packing our bags, and everything was going as scheduled. Then I realised I had forgotten something important that would put a spanner in the works. In our mad rush, my brain finally reminded me of what I was forgetting.

      ‘I need cash for Cecilia,’ I gasped, looking at Paul and feeling slightly panicky. ‘She’s coming over in twenty minutes!’ I whined, looking at the clock.

      ‘Who is Cecilia?’ asked Paul with a raised eyebrow while taking a jumper from the bottom drawer and bringing it over to the pile of clothes he had already placed in his suitcase.

      ‘She’s the gardener. She’s supposed to start preparing the raised beds, and she was going to pick up the perfect plants at a horticultural auction but she said she needed cash. Rats … I promised her I would get her some,’ I said, angry with myself.

      ‘That’s okay,’ Paul replied calmly. ‘I’ll get cash from the off-licence down the road. They have a machine. We have plenty of time, plus that’s the beauty of not flying commercial: the plane will wait for us.’

      ‘Are you sure?’ I looked at Paul with a radiant smile. ‘I would go myself but look,’ I said, pointing at my suitcase only half-full. Next to it there was a pile of stuff that I still needed to somehow squeeze into it.

      ‘It’s no trouble, I’ll be two minutes tops and my bag is ready,’ he answered with a smug smile as he zipped up his luggage and lifted it from the bed to prove his point.

      ‘Okay then, get as much cash as you can. I really want a Japanese maple tree and they cost a small fortune apparently,’ I told him, suddenly business-like and concentrating on what I was doing.

      ‘Consider it done,’ he promised, leaning forward to kiss my forehead. I answered him with a grunt. Without lifting my eyes from the pair of jeans that didn’t want to squeeze in the only empty corner I had left, I was pushing them down with all my strength when Paul stepped closer. Initially, I thought he was coming to my rescue; instead, without any warning, he turned me to him and – holding me by my elbows – he lifted me up until we were at eye level.

      ‘Paul! What are you doing?’ I squealed, my feet dangling several inches from the floor.

      He answered me with a passionate kiss that made my head spin. I gave in completely, pouring my love for him into it. When he eventually put me down, I was breathless and light-headed, and blissfully happy.

      ‘I needed a kiss for the road,’ he said when I looked up at him dreamily, trying to regain some control. ‘I love you,’ he said, heading for the door.

      ‘I love you too,’ I answered suddenly wary that we were going to be apart, even if it was only for a few minutes.

      ‘Miss you already,’ I whispered, my voice unexpectedly trembling with emotion. ‘Hurry back, please.’

       ‘I will,’ he answered, blowing me a kiss before jogging down the stairs.

Chapter Three

      Paul was in surgery for the best part of six hours. He was taken to the ICU afterwards and we were only able to see him briefly through a glass window.

      The shock of how he looked, with a swollen eye and bruises covering his face and arms, was too much for me to witness, and when I returned the waiting room, I cried my pain over Georgie’s shoulder.

      Harry and Albert volunteered to talk to the doctor, who reluctantly gave them Paul’s prognosis, even if the outcome greatly depended on him surviving the next twenty-four hours.

      I didn’t have the strength to go with them and hear first-hand, from a stranger, that Paul was going to die.

      ‘I’ll wait here,’ I said to Harry. ‘I’ll wait here.’

      He returned shortly afterwards with the news.

      ‘Fran.’ Harry crouched down in front of me, his hands resting lightly on my knees. ‘Paul is stable, for the moment.’ He swallowed. He searched my eyes for a sign that I was ready to hear the rest. When I nodded, he continued.

      ‘The doctor said that every hour, every minute, his chances are improving.’ I looked at him thinking that, surely, this was a piece of good news. Unfortunately, I was way off the mark, because he said that Paul at that point only had a twenty-five per cent chance of survival.

      The doctor was concerned about the large quantity of blood Paul lost before they could stop the haemorrhage. He had been repeatedly stabbed with a broken bottle, and he’d bled profusely from the wounds in his stomach. Even if no major internal organs were hit, the paramedics had struggled to stop the bleeding. The surgeon eventually got it under control, but only after he removed Paul’s spleen and a small part of his stomach. At least the operation was a success.

      Paul’s brain, however, was what worried them the most. He had been repeatedly hit in the head, and the extent of the damage was currently unknown. He was in a coma and there was nothing any of us could do, other than wait. Hours went by unhurriedly, as if time had decided to play a cruel trick on us. In that interminable stretch, I kept analysing the information Harry had given me, trying to extract any hope that was hiding inside the tragic outcome the doctors had predicted.

      Georgie and Albert periodically went to the cafeteria to get food and coffee, which no one ate or drunk. Too restless to sit, I paced the room, leaning on the windowsill, looking obsessively at the wall of the building in front. Harry sat in one of the chairs, looking like a desolate island in the middle of a stormy sea.

      I wanted to reach out to him, console him somehow, but I didn’t have the strength for it; so I just kept studying every single brick, noticing how they were both identical and completely different, at the very same time.

      Paul’s odds improved to fifty per cent and then eventually to seventy per cent and Harry insisted we take a break. Too tired to argue, I let Harry and Georgie take me home.

      ***

      The cab stops in front of my house, and I feel as if I cannot set foot inside it without Paul at my side.

      ‘I can’t go in without him,’ I murmur to Harry who firmly but gently helps me out of the car.

      ‘I know it’s hard but spending the night in the street will not help anything,’ he says, waiting for Georgie to open the front door, and then, without hesitation, all but carries me in.

      The shock of returning home for the first time since Paul was taken to the hospital is a painful punch in my stomach. Walking through the front door without Paul, when he should be actually carrying me across the threshold as his wife, makes the emptiness of the house even more tangible and devastating.

      At least Harry’s here, supporting me through a tragedy I know I can’t handle alone. In a haze, I watch Georgie as she picks up a pile of envelopes that lie scattered on the entrance floor. She places them neatly on the side table, next to Paul’s car keys and his sunglasses, and the sight of them suddenly reminds me that they may end up staying there, untouched, for a very long time.

      ‘He always leaves his sunglasses there,’ I murmur as if it’s important to talk about Paul.

      No one answers.

      It’s been a long thirty-six hours, the longest and most stressful time of my entire life. I’m exhausted; we all are.

      ‘Why