Susan Lewis - One Minute Later

Vivienne’s eyes went to her mother. Gina apparently didn’t understand either. She was clinging tightly to Mark’s hand.

‘You have presented us with an unusual situation,’ Dr Novak informed her, ‘because the sort of infarctions and arrests you’ve suffered are currently falling between two diagnoses. Please don’t look so worried.’ He smiled gently. ‘I said unusual, not impossible, as both conditions are treatable, it’s simply a question of going forward in the right way.’

This was sounding reasonable, not too frightening. Treatable was always good.

‘… because of the damage the muscle – your heart – has suffered, and the complications that have arisen, I’m afraid your recovery isn’t going in the way we’d hoped.’ He put a hand over Vivienne’s as though sensing the deepening of her fear, and wanting to hold her back from it. ‘It’s my professional opinion,’ he said softly, ‘that your heart isn’t strong enough to give you much more than a year of life, and that life won’t be like the one you’ve known up until now. This is why, with your permission, I’m going to recommend that you are assessed for a transplant.’

Vivienne heard a gasp, a small cry of shock, but she had no idea where it had come from. Maybe her; or maybe it was her mother. Her eyes were still on Dr Novak’s, her fingers holding fast to his, as if letting go would cause her to spiral down into an abyss of such darkness and despair that she would never find her way back.

He began speaking again, saying more, much more, but none of it changed what he’d already said. The heart she had was so weak, so sick, that unless it was replaced, and soon, she was going to die.

‘… and I’m the one who has to name him, because he’s going to be my pig, isn’t he, Daddy?’

‘He is indeed,’ Jack cheerfully confirmed, while glancing in the rear-view mirror to where all three of his children were framed like a small family portrait – Hanna aged eight, Zoe seven next week, and four-year-old Josh, soon to be the proud owner of one small pig. Josh was a miniature version of his father; the same untameable dark hair, deep blue eyes and a smile that was as infectious as his laugh – apart from in his sisters’ opinion, but he didn’t worry too much about that.

Shelley checked the wing mirror on her door of the old Land Rover, making sure Jack’s brother, Nathan, and his wife, Katya, were still in close pursuit. This was going to be Nate and Kat’s first visit to the Dean Valley County Fair, and while the children were thrilled to have them along, their aunt and uncle’s most important task today was to tow the trailer that would later carry home any new livestock they purchased, most importantly the piglet.

Behind the Land Rover was another trailer, this one transporting Milady, the imperious, overweight and highly coiffed sheep that Zoe was entering into the children’s Best in Show competition. Zoe had done most of the grooming herself – post shearing, which she’d watched closely with her inexpert eye to make sure a good job was done – and had only just stopped short of mascara and lipstick. She’d also persuaded Jack to join her for a camp-out in the barn last night to make sure no rival competitor tried to steal the potential prizewinner. (There had been no reports of rustling in their area, but someone had put the idea into Zoe’s head and so all precautions had to be taken.)

‘I’m going to call him Alan,’ Josh announced for the twenty-eighth time, bouncing up and down between his sisters. His excited little face was as flushed and eager as it always was at the prospect of a newcomer to his personal menagerie. He’d been collecting, studying, doctoring, releasing and sometimes burying wildlife since he was old enough to know what it was, and his enthusiasm for all creatures great and small was only surpassed by his incredible, even instinctive understanding of their peculiar habits and needs.

‘Everyone thinks Milady is going to win,’ Zoe informed them confidently. ‘Mummy, you remembered to bring the camera, didn’t you?’

‘I did,’ Shelley assured her.

‘Stop jerking about,’ Hanna protested as Josh knocked into the cress sculpture she was holding. She’d grown it into the shape of a cookie monster over the past few weeks in preparation for the show, and Josh’s life wasn’t going to be a long one if he bumped it again. ‘Daddy, did I tell you that Lydia Harris has made a horse with her cress, but it doesn’t really look like one?’

‘Yours does,’ Josh informed her loyally.

‘ It’s not supposed to be a horse! ’ she cried furiously. ‘It’s a monster, you idiot.’

‘Well it looks like a horse to me,’ he argued, ‘a bit of a weird one, though.’ After a beat he added, ‘Actually if it doesn’t frighten anyone I expect you will.’

Jack and Shelley choked back their laughter as Hanna thumped her brother, regarding her artistic endeavour with an unsteady mix of anxiety and pride as they jostled along the rutted track and into the field that was hosting vehicles for the show’s tradesmen and competitors.

It was a hot June day with no more than a few wisps of clouds in the sky, and the sour, sweaty stench of livestock doing its best to overpower the perfumed cocktail of flowers, cakes and sizzling hot dogs that floated about between trees and stalls. This was the Raynor family’s fifth show in a row (Josh’s third), and each year they’d gone home with a small clutch of awards and souvenirs, assorted foodstuffs, several chickens, a couple of ducks, and many cases of locally brewed cider. Last year they’d snared a prize for the Scariest Scarecrow, which they’d modelled on Lord Dregg of Ninja Turtle fame and who, Shelley had secretly felt, bore an uncanny resemblance to their roguish neighbour, Giles. In fact, it was possible Giles had recognized himself, for she’d spotted him shooting baleful glances at the straw-stuffed effigy as though not entirely sure if he was being wound up or not.

Much had changed during the almost five years since they’d taken over Deerwood. The farmhouse was now almost fully renovated, some of the outbuildings had undergone serious repair, and as of last week they’d become the proud owners of no less than twenty-seven ewes and six neutered rams. However, the greatest excitement since their arrival – next to Josh being born, of course – was the fact that Nate and Kat had decided to build a large, rambling stone cottage on the acre of land that Shelley and Jack had gifted them. It was set back from the main-road end of the mile-long track up to the farmhouse, barely visible to passers-by in spite of the delightful welcome gate cut into the hedge. Nate was now a firefighter with the Kesterly service, and Kat helped to run the local nursery school.

‘Look at him,’ Jack sighed, sliding an arm round Shelley as they strolled towards the entrance and Josh zoomed off to join a couple of friends he’d spotted. ‘I haven’t seen him this excited since … yesterday?’

Shelley had to laugh. ‘Let’s hope we find a pig,’ she declared, ‘or he’s going to end up as disappointed as Steven.’ Steven was Josh’s pet lamb, a sorry little creature who’d apparently decided that he’d rather have a piglet as a friend than another lamb. They knew this because Josh had told them, and apparently Steven had told Josh. Steven had been helped into the world by Josh a few months ago, and was now a part-time resident of the farmhouse, along with Petunia, Zoe’s three-and-a-half-legged lamb (grown into a sheep), who’d popped into the world on the same February night that Josh had made his own speedy debut.