Page 96 of All the Things We Never Knew

She said to Anna, Actually, I’d love one of those. I’m not drinking either.

We looked at her, Anna and I, with curiosity and then dawning understanding.

I know. She laughed nervously. It’s mad. I’m forty-three.

And it all came spilling out. She hasn’t told him yet – Joel Chamberlain, the man she would never have met were it not for her relationship with Gray and his death. The man with the genetic condition that necessitated a kidney transplant; the condition which if Laurel has a son he will be safe from, and if she has a daughter she will carry.

I don’t know what Joel’s going to say, Laurel told us. The excitement shone out of her and I feel optimistic for her. Laurel is a resilient woman – alone or in a partnership with this man I hope will fall in love with her as she is falling in love with him, she will make the best of it.

The way she feels, the way I can see Anna feels – resolutely carrying on, greeting each day without the man they loved, coming to terms with his flaws and his secrets and his death – fills me with awe at the strength of women. I feel confident too that when Anna introduces Gray’s mother to the family, her own strength will add to Anna’s and help her and her children understand what made Gray the man he was.

I am filled with hope as I meet this new day, thinking of Gray’s reinvention of himself and the family it allowed him to create, of the grandmother Barney and Lulu will soon meet, of Laurel’s excitement as she moves into a new and unknown phase of her life, of my own daughter, Beatrice, who will be arriving here later today – even of that robin singing its heart out in the darkness of Damask Square.

There was singing last night too. Barney took his seat at the piano, glowing with pride, and Lulu stood by his side. The room fell silent as his hands alighted on the keys and he began to play.

Gray used to sing this to them when they were babies, Laurel whispered to me. Joel sent me an English translation of the lyrics. It’s a lullaby and a funeral song, but also a Christmas song.

Every star in heaven is singing

All through the night,

Hear the glorious music ringing

All through the night.

Barney’s voice was pure and true, Lulu’s less so, but she did her best.

Look, my love, the stars are smiling

All through the night.

FIFTY-FIVE

LAUREL

Leaning over my handlebars, I felt my thighs begin to burn as the gradient got steeper. It was six months since I’d last cycled this route but, despite that, it felt familiar. Already, I could see the castle ahead. My muscle memory seemed to recall the series of bends in the path, like a child’s drawing of a snake; I even instinctively altered course to avoid a rough area on the surface of the track.

In terms of conditions, it should have felt much easier than last time. The day was clear – glancing over my shoulder, I was able to appreciate the panorama of valleys and peaks, illuminated by warm sunshine in a blue sky. The wind was gentle, so staying on course was easy. It was warm, but not so hot as to present a challenge.

But my body had other ideas. My balance as I stood in the pedals was awkward, my centre of mass not where I expected it to be. My lung capacity felt reduced. A few miles back, I’d had to stop because the toes in my left foot had suddenly been seized by cramp.

Now that the summit was in reach, though, I felt freshly energised. I could feel the blood surging through me, being taken by my pounding heart to the muscles that needed it. The balmy air flowed smoothly into my lungs. My hands felt relaxed and agile, not like frozen lumps of meat as they had last time.

I reached the summit easily, swung out of the saddle and stood taking in the view. Seconds later, Joel joined me. He was wearing the red Lycra top that had been Gray’s.

‘What’s with the burst of speed, Victoria Pendleton? Aren’t you meant to be taking it easy?’

‘Taking what easy?’ I laughed, pulling off my helmet to feel the breeze in my sweaty hair. ‘I’m pregnant, not incapacitated.’

‘There I was thinking you’d want to spend your visit resting up, being brought cups of tea and having your feet massaged,’ he grumbled, unclipping his water bottle and handing it to me.

‘I mean, now you mention it, I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea and a foot massage. Maybe tomorrow.’

He slipped his arm round my waist, and I leaned into him, the damp heat of his body meeting mine. Just the same as before, I knew that in the distance, out of sight, my little car was waiting, ready to take me back to London. But this time – as it had been the past few times I’d visited – it was parked outside Joel’s house, not at an Airbnb. Just as when he came to London, he now stayed with me, not at the fancy hotels where he’d told me he’d always felt uncomfortable.

It was on the first of those visits, in January, that I’d told him I was pregnant.

‘This is just as weird for me as it’s going to be for you,’ I’d said, sitting across from him at a coffee shop in the Barbican Centre. ‘Whatever you want to do is fine with me. But I felt I should let you know right away.’