Page 96 of The Forever Gift

‘Charlie, you promised,’ Kayla reminds me, sinking a little lower in the bed. I hurry over to her and help her back up and re-fluff the pillows that are almost as weary as her.

‘You’re right. I did promise.’ I exhale again, making myself light-headed. I ease myself into the chair waiting beside Kayla’s bed and I take her hand. Her fingers curl around mine and I fight back tears as I remember her chubby little hand that used to hold mine when her dad and I first started going out. We’d take her on day trips and for walks in the park. I never, in my wildest dreams, thought I’d ever sit beside her hospital bed, facing the horrifying thought that she might leave this world before I do. ‘You know you can ask me anything.’

A painful silence hangs between us, as if Kayla knows I’m bluffing. Just this morning I told Gavin again that asking for Molly to be put through more was too much. Too far. Too great an ask.

‘I overheard Mam and Dad and Jack talking about my options,’ Kayla says, as if she’s a forty-five-year-old woman discussing the best way to approach mortgage-interest relief. No fifteen-year-old should ever sound this solemn. ’They never check if I’m properly asleep; they never include me.’

‘Kay, look, it’s grown-up stuff and?—’

‘And, you’re all still fighting.’ Kayla shakes her head, disappointed in us.

I think about lying. Or at least trying to make out that we’re all simply having heated discussions, but I feel I owe Kayla more than a bullshit generic response. ‘Yes. We are all killing each other. But that’s stress, Kay. It happens. We’re all so stressed out.’

‘I know. And I’m sorry. I know it’s because of me.’

‘It’s not, Kay,’ I say, only just realising. ‘It’s because we’re afraid of losing you. We can’t bear it. None of us can.’

‘Does Molly know about any of this?’ Kayla asks.

‘No.’ I shake my head, guilt swirling in the pit of my stomach. I can’t bear to tell Kayla I have reservations about these damn trials.

‘Good. Don’t tell her.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t tell her,’ Kayla repeats.

‘Kayla, I know she’s only four, but I have to talk to her about this. In some way. I have to try to explain. Help her understand how she can help. She’ll be scared, but you’re her sister. She adores you.’

‘No,’ Kayla says, again. ‘She can’t help. I don’t want her to.’

‘Kayla.’

‘Charlie, I said no.’

‘Kayla, what exactly is it you want my help with?’ I ask, suddenly realising that whatever it is Kayla wants to discuss there is a reason she has chosen me and not her parents. This has unorthodox written all over it and I’m not sure I’m in a position to disagree. And I’m even more certain I’m neither qualified genetically or medically to agree. ‘Oh, Kayla what are you up to?’

FORTY-THREE

CHARLOTTE

There’s a knock on the door and I hold my breath, hoping Gavin is on the far side.

‘Come in,’ Kayla says in a sing-song voice that seems very grown-up for her. I can only imagine she’s adopted the tone to usher in the constant flow of medics who weave their way in out of her room daily.

‘Hey,’ Aiden says.

‘Where’s my dad and sister?’ Kayla asks, seeming surprised or perhaps disappointed to see her friend.

‘Molly was hungry so your dad said he’d take her to the canteen. I told him there’s a McDonald’s around the corner – so I think they’ve gone there.’

I groan inwardly at the thought of Molly eating more junk food.

‘I best be going,’ I say, glancing towards the door. ‘I’ll call Gavin when I’m on the corridor and let him know that I have fresh soup waiting at home for Molly.’

‘What? No.’ Kayla shuffles to sit up straighter and she looks as if she’s in pain. Her floral bandana slips back a little and reveals that although she hasn’t lost her hair completely, there isn’t much more than a few stray strands left. Suddenly avoiding chicken nuggets anda sugary drink seems inconsequential. ‘You can’t go,’ she says. ‘We haven’t finished talking.’

‘We can chat more next time,’ I say, my breathing feeling laboured and uncomfortable. ‘I’m sure you and your friend want some alone time to catch up.’

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