LITMIR.BIZ

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his fair head bowed, looking blankly ahead escorting Joe, his skinny frame hunched and miserable, and a small fair-haired woman, who must be Livvy’s mum, Felicity, as they followed the coffin down the aisle. The three of them clung to each other, for support, and Emily felt more than ever that she had no right to be here. She nearly turned and fled, but Adam glanced up at her as he walked past and gave her a quick and grateful smile. He looked so sombre and sad. Emily wished beyond anything she could be by his side.

      The funeral passed in a blur. Felicity got up and read something about Death not being the end in such a dignified manner, Emily felt a lump rise in her throat. She had a sudden terrible memory of her own mother’s funeral, and marvelled at Felicity’s courage. Emily couldn’t do anything but sob that day; to be able to read for your own daughter and not break down took some doing.

      Adam also read a passage about love. He didn’t look at the congregation, focusing his attention on getting every word out. Emily could see what it cost him, and longed to be with him to comfort him. And then Joe got up, and said simply. ‘My mum was the best. She looked after me, and now she’s gone. And I miss her.’

      There wasn’t a dry eye in the church after that, and the rest of the service was punctuated with people sobbing. After it was over, Emily escaped as quickly as she could. The family were going on to a private burial, and she had no intention of attending the wake.

      A crowd of people clustered around Joe, Adam and Felicity, so Emily walked down the path to the road where her car was parked. She’d done what she came to do. Although Emily had thought what she and Adam had was special, Livvy being dead altered things. Her rival was gone, but not in a way anyone would have wanted. Was Adam’s love for her enough to withstand his grief? All Emily could do was wait and see if Adam would come back to her.

      As she was unlocking the car door, she heard a shout, ‘Emily, wait.’

      It was Adam. The temptation to hug him was immense, but Emily hung back.

      ‘I just wanted to say thanks,’ he said. ‘It meant a lot that you came.’

      ‘Of course I came,’ said Emily. ‘How are you bearing up?’

      ‘Not well,’ said Adam. He looked tired and strained.

      ‘You’d better get back,’ said Emily uneasily. ‘People might talk.’

      ‘I’m not sure that matters any more.’

      ‘You have Joe to think of,’ she pointed out.

      ‘I know,’ said Adam. ‘Emily, you do understand, don’t you? Joe has to be my priority right now. And – well – the next few months, I might not be able to see you, and I wanted to say it won’t be because I don’t want to.’

      ‘Oh Adam,’ said Emily. ‘Of course I understand.’

      They were both a bit weepy now.

      She could see the funeral party breaking up.

      ‘You have to go, Adam,’ she said. ‘But if you ever need me, you know where I am.’

      ‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said.

      ‘When you’re ready,’ said Emily. Who knew how easy that would be?

      ‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘I know this is a big ask, but please – can you wait for me?’

      With that he was gone, and Emily got in her car and drove home, wondering if she’d ever see him again, but hoping more than she’d ever hoped before that she would.

       Livvy

      I spend a long time in a foggy blur, not entirely sure where the days, nights and months go to, but unable to reach out to anyone I love, to at least see if they’re doing OK. I get the odd vague impulse – round the time of my funeral, I can feel Joe’s distress, and occasionally I sense that Adam is trying to talk to me from somewhere, but it’s like a broken radio wave, it comes to me from such a distance, I am not even sure it is him. In the midst of the fog I feel a terrible pain and sense of loss. There’s something I should be doing, but I don’t know what it is.

      And then …

      On a winter’s night when a storm is raging in my car park, suddenly I can hear Joe in my head. I can feel his confusion clamouring in my brain.

      ‘So is Emily my new mum, Dad?’ he asks.

      Who the hell is Emily? And why is Adam looking for a new mum for Joe?

      ‘Over my dead body,’ I snarl, and suddenly it’s as if a whirlwind has torn me from the car park.

      What the—? I’m standing in my front room, with no clue how I got there. I am stunned but delighted. Finally I’m out of that damned car park. Then I look around me and see Adam, Joe, and a pretty dark-haired woman I don’t know, but vaguely recognize, decorating the Christmas tree.

      A strange woman in my house. With Adam. And Joe. What on earth is going on?

       Christmas Past

      Livid doesn’t cover it. I hurl myself at the dark-haired woman in MY front room in a fury.

      ‘Who the hell are you?’ I yell. ‘What are you doing here? In my house, in my life?’

      I want her to be terrified. I want her to react. But all that happens is the woman shivers, and says, ‘That’s odd. I just felt someone walking over my grave.’

      Crap, I can’t even haunt people properly. All I want is for Adam and Joe to see me, to know I’m there, to want me back, the way I want them back.

      ‘Oh quit feeling sorry for yourself.’ Malachi hasn’t gone away. Oh good. ‘If you’d not turned your back on me a year ago all this would be sorted by now. They do need you and you need them, but possibly not in the way you think.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ Why does Malachi have to talk in riddles?

      ‘You have things to sort out, things to put right.’

      ‘What are you talking about?’ I’d blush with fury if I could.

      ‘You really don’t know?’ says Malachi. ‘Here, let me show you …’

      With a jolt, I’m awake. With a living breathing human body. I’d forgotten how good it is, to feel and see and taste and smell. Wait. I remember this. I look around me. I’m sitting in a hospital bed, watching my newborn baby asleep in his cot. A sudden rush of love – hormones? – flows through me. Here is my baby at last, after all the false starts. My miracle baby.

      But where is Adam? We’ve waited so long for this baby, been through so much, and he’s not here.

      Then I remember. I’ve gone into early labour and Adam’s abroad. He thought we had time. We both did, but I’ve ended up giving birth alone, among strangers, in this unforgiving place. The midwives have been kind, but overworked, and Mum is away visiting friends, and can’t get here till tomorrow. I have never felt so lonely. And now I’m lying on a hospital bed, and my baby is waking up and I can’t reach him. Because of my epidural I can’t get out of bed. I’m tired and hungry and sad and overwhelmed. This is not how it was meant to be. How can I be sad on the happiest day of my life?

      When the baby starts to cry, I don’t know what to do. I ring the buzzer but no one comes. I’m here on my own with a crying baby, and I feel like crying too. And I know it’s unfair of me, but I’m very angry with Adam. But then, miraculously, Adam is here. He’s dropped everything and flown home as soon as he could, just to be by my side. He’s so happy about the baby, and so pleased to see me, I forget my anger, and bury it deep. Nothing matters now but us and our new son.

      And then I’m

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