The two men slept, and it came as something of a relief – a brief respite from the tension. I stared at the television screen and, with every mile that we headed towards home, I felt my heart grow heavier, my anxiety greater. It began to occur to me then that my failure was not just my own; Will’s parents were going to be devastated. They would probably blame me. Will’s sister would probably sue me. And it was my failure for Will too. I had failed to persuade him. I had offered him everything I could, including myself, and nothing I had shown him had convinced him of a reason to keep living.
Perhaps, I found myself thinking, he had deserved someone better than me. Someone cleverer. Someone like Treena might have thought of better things to do. They might have found some rare piece of medical research or something that could have helped him. They might have changed his mind. The fact that I was going to have to live with this knowledge for the rest of my life made me feel almost dizzy.
‘Want a drink, Clark?’ Will’s voice would break into my thoughts.
‘No. Thank you.’
‘Is my elbow too far over your armrest?’
‘No. It’s fine.’
It was only in those last few hours, in the dark, that I allowed myself to look at him. My gaze slid slowly sideways from my glowing television screen until I gazed at him surreptitiously in the dim light of the little cabin. And as I took in his face, so tanned and handsome, so peaceful in sleep, a solitary tear rolled down my cheek. Perhaps in some way conscious of my scrutiny Will stirred, but didn’t wake. And unseen by the cabin staff, by Nathan, I pulled his blanket slowly up around his neck, tucking it in carefully, to make sure, in the chill of the cabin air conditioning, that Will would not feel the cold.
They were waiting at the Arrivals Gate. I had somehow known they would be. I had felt the faintly sick sensation expanding inside me even as we wheeled Will through passport control, fast-tracked by some well-meaning official even as I prayed that we would be forced to wait, stuck in a queue that lasted hours, preferably days. But no, we crossed the vast expanse of linoleum, me pushing the baggage trolley, Nathan pushing Will, and as the glass doors opened, there they were, standing at the barrier, side by side in some rare semblance of unity. I saw Mrs Traynor’s face briefly light up as she saw Will and I thought, absently, Of course – he looks so well. And, to my shame, I put on my sunglasses – not to hide my exhaustion, but so that she wouldn’t immediately see from my naked expression what it was I was going to have to tell her.
‘Look at you!’ she was exclaiming. ‘Will, you look wonderful. Really wonderful.’
Will’s father had stooped, was patting his son’s chair, his knee, his face wreathed in smiles. ‘We couldn’t believe it when Nathan told us you were down on the beach every day. And swimming! What was the water like, then – lovely and warm? It’s been raining cats and dogs here. Typical August!’
Of course. Nathan would have been texting them or calling them. As if they would have let us go all that time without some kind of contact.
‘It … it was a pretty amazing place,’ said Nathan. He had grown quiet too, but now tried to smile, to seem his normal self.
I felt frozen, my hand clutching my passport like I was about to go somewhere else. I had to remind myself to breathe.
‘Well, we thought you might like a special dinner,’ Will’s father said. ‘There’s a jolly nice restaurant at the Intercontinental. Champagne on us. What do you think? Your mother and I thought it might be a nice treat.’
‘Sure,’ said Will. He was smiling at his mother and she was looking back at him as if she wanted to bottle it. How can you? I wanted to yell at him. How can you look at her like that when you already know what you are going to do to her?
‘Come on, then. I’ve got the car in disabled parking. It’s only a short ride from here. I was pretty sure you’d all be a bit jet-lagged. Nathan, do you want me to take any of those bags?’
My voice broke into the conversation. ‘Actually,’ I said – I was already pulling my luggage from the trolley – ‘I think I’m going to head off. Thank you, anyway.’
I was focused on my bag, deliberately not looking at them, but even above the hubbub of the airport I could detect the brief silence my words provoked.
Mr Traynor’s voice was the first to break it. ‘Come on, Louisa. Let’s have a little celebration. We want to hear all about your adventures. I want to know all about the island. And I promise you don’t have to tell us everything.’ He almost chuckled.
‘Yes.’ Mrs Traynor’s voice had a faint edge to it. ‘Do come, Louisa.’
‘No.’ I swallowed, tried to raise a bland smile. My sunglasses were a shield. ‘Thank you. I’d really rather get back.’
‘To where?’ said Will.
I realized what he was saying. I didn’t really have anywhere to go.
‘I’ll go to my parents’ house. It will be fine.’
‘Come with us,’ he said. His voice was gentle. ‘Don’t go, Clark. Please.’
I wanted to cry then. But I knew with utter certainty that I couldn’t be anywhere near him. ‘No. Thank you. I hope you have a lovely meal.’ I hoisted my bag over my shoulder and, before anyone could say anything else, I was walking away from them, swallowed up by the crowds in the terminal.
I was almost at the bus stop when I heard her. Camilla Traynor, her heels clipping on the pavement, half walked, half ran towards me.
‘Stop. Louisa. Please stop.’
I turned, and she was forcing her way through a coach party, casting the backpacking teenagers aside like Moses parting the waves. The airport lights were bright on her hair, turning it a kind of copper colour. She was wearing a fine grey pashmina, which draped artistically over one shoulder. I remember thinking absently how beautiful she must have been, only a few years earlier.
‘Please. Please stop.’
I stopped, glancing behind me at the road, wishing that the bus would appear now, that it would scoop me up and take me away. That anything would happen. A small earthquake, maybe.
‘Louisa?’
‘He had a good time.’ My voice sounded clipped. Oddly like her own, I found myself thinking.
‘He does look well. Very well.’ She stared at me, standing there on the pavement. She was suddenly acutely still, despite the sea of people moving around her.
We didn’t speak.
And then I said, ‘Mrs Traynor, I’d like to hand in my notice. I can’t … I can’t do these last few days. I’ll forfeit any money owed to me. In fact, I don’t want this month’s money. I don’t want anything. I just –’