WARD 4B

Grace Everall

ISBN: 978-1-914933-01-1

Copyright 2021  

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise, without prior written consent of the copyright owner. Nor can it be circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on a subsequent purchaser.  

The rights of Grace Everall to be identified as the author of this work have been asserted in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988. 

A copy of this book is deposited with the British Library.

Published By:

i2i Publishing. Manchester. 

www.i2ipublishing.co.uk 

Dedication

To ‘the three’

Forever and a day

To the moon and back

Acknowledgements

I would like to start by thanking Lionel and Natalia at i2i Publishing for all their help throughout the process of making this book come together.

Also, thank you to Cliff Slade and Tom Vaughan for their invaluable advice on publishing and getting the word out there.

Thank you to my friends for their endless support throughout this experience.

Finally, huge thanks to my family – my grandma, mum and late grandad. You three have always believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself. You’re my world. Thank you for everything.

PART 1

New York City in the 90s

PROLOGUE

The cargo lorry appeared out of nowhere. The driver, high up in his cabin, began to panic. He had taken a wrong turn. He shouldn’t be driving along a road this busy with the weight he was carrying. 

The driver was frantically checking his mirrors to ensure he hadn’t hit anything and he didn’t see the pedestrians in the middle of the road. Thankfully, they managed to scuttle towards the sidewalk. The driver noticed the people and swerved, trying to avoid them, panic rising within him.

The relief that came from missing the pedestrians was short-lived as his swerving vehicle rammed into the bus on the opposite side of the road. It was a head-on collision. 

The windshield of the bus smashed instantly, as though it foresaw the disaster that was to unfold. Onlookers watched in horror; the time seemingly frozen before their very eyes as the lorry catapulted into the bus. The bus driver hit his head on the steering wheel, blood dripping from his injured brow. The lorry forged on as its driver, now in a panicked haze, braked desperately.

Five passengers were thrown about the bus, their limbs limp as if they were ragdolls. They didn't have the time to take cover, the carnage unfolding too quickly for anyone to notice until it was too late. A woman stood on the sidewalk near the bus, using her body to shield a small pram that she was pushing peacefully only a minute prior. A mother grabbed her toddler son and ran away, his cries almost as loud at the crushing vehicles.

As smoke rose from the catastrophe, one could only hear screams, cries and loud voices, calling the emergency services, begging for help. A small fire had now broken out about midway along the length of the bus. A man inside the nearby building watched the fire spread as the woman on the phone told him that the ambulance was a couple of minutes away from the scene.

Panic ensued in every which direction. Young couples, holding hands, their fingers gripping a little too hard as they didn't want to be separated, sprinted away from the crash. An elderly couple found energy that they hadn’t experienced in years, making an adrenaline-fueled dash away from the site of the catastrophe. 

Teachers on a school trip attempted to shield the eyes of the innocent children who, just a minute earlier, had been waiting diligently to cross the road. Look left. Look right. Listen out and cross. They looked confused more than scared - no one had taught them what to do in this situation.

The sound of sirens approaching seemed to unfreeze the time, the reality washing over the onlookers. This was real.

Yet more people, now recovering from the shock of what they had just witnessed, scattered from the scene. They were, no doubt, keen to avoid witnessing any body bags that were soon to emerge from the rummage. Any remaining children were whisked away as the emergency services yelled at everyone to stand back. Paramedics rushed in with their medical gear. Firemen ran past whilst simultaneously unreeling a hose. Stunned office workers had put their work on hold, congregating next to the biggest window in the building. Watching.

The fire was soon extinguished. Paramedics grappled at the scalding hot metal frame of the decaying bus, urgently seeking out any casualties. 

Altogether six people were pulled from the wreckage. Five were shipped off to the hospital, sirens loud and urgent, whilst the last was declared dead at the scene.

CHAPTER 1

Sunlight poured into the crusty, dilapidated hospital ward, blinding anyone unfortunate enough to already be awake. The five patients of Ward 4B laid in their beds, some were awake whilst some were still stirring in their sleep. They had been here almost a week, long enough to get used to the lumpy mattresses and scratchy over-washed bedsheets. The breakfast rounds were soon to be made – a measly offering of a stale bread roll with some sugar-free jam or sloppy porridge. The hospital budget wasn’t really cut out for providing any better cuisine, much to the disgust of the patients.

A pile of magazines that were at least a year out of date sat in the corner of the room on a pine footstool. It had a layer of dust so thick one could barely make out the colour of the wood underneath. By the side of each patients’ bed was a small table with a jug of water, a glass for them to drink from, a few personal objects and a list of their individual medical histories. 

The main window of Ward 4B overlooked a beautiful green area, a park that was full of children almost every day, even in snow. They would play and squeal with the delight of their childhood worry-free years. When the wind blew in their direction, the patients could hear their shrills through the single-paned, poorly insulated glass. This brought a smile to some, contempt for others.

At precisely seven in the morning, the squeaky breakfast trolley barged its way through the ward’s swinging double doors. Yet another thing that the meagre budget couldn’t quite stretch to justify fixing. Everyone looked simultaneously towards the door to investigate what was happening – as if the same thing didn’t happen every day at the same time. A huge pot with a ladle sticking out the top told the patients that porridge was on the menu today.

The young trainee nurse screeched the trolley along to the first bed, simply known as Bed 1. After a curt good morning, she began to ladle out porridge from the scalding hot vat into a chipped porcelain bowl. The ladle made her fingers tingle from the heat, but she didn't let it show.

“Thank you,” said Justin Anderson while taking the hot bowl into his hands. He shone a winning smile at the nurse, which had her stony expression melt momentarily as she offered him a smile in return. Justin had always had a gorgeous smile and cute features. With his floppy blonde hair and deep blue eyes, he looked like a little boy, even though he was now a college graduate.

As the nurse turned, he dropped his smile, looking at the gooey meal in from of him. He stuck a spoon in it and hoped that perhaps the chef would get a cookbook for Christmas, which was now only a week away. Justin moved his spoon slightly and grimaced. A scummy layer of milk had formed on top of the porridge. He thought it a good idea to make the best of a bad situation and stir the porridge around, pretending the puddle on the top had never been there, so he did just that.

Justin thought back to the breakfasts his mother used to make him before he went off to school and smiled at the happy memories – one year, the Anderson family had received a waffle maker as a Christmas present from his uncle, and they tucked into fluffy waffles every morning, religiously, for months afterwards. Justin was an only child, and he could admit to himself that he was a little bit spoiled, which meant he got to top up his waffles with anything he wanted – including unlimited supplies of syrup and ice cream. ‘Breakfast of the Gods,’ he thought to himself, remembering the sweet taste of strawberries on a crunchy waffle. In Ward 4B, there was not a single waffle in sight, and there probably never will be.

Next, in Bed 2, sat Heidi Monroe. The epitome of a young, independent woman in her early thirties, who became alarmed by the lack of a male companion. To remain calm, she told herself that as long as she had found someone by thirty-five, she would still have time to marry and start a family. But, no matter what, that little voice in her head insisted that she was a failure and would never find love. She couldn’t quite shake the nagging feeling that the voice was right. Terrified of turning into a lonely spinster with five cats, Heidi would do anything to take her mind off the fact that she was still very much single. Heidi thanked the nurse for her porridge and went about mentally preparing herself for the consumption. She wished the nurses were a little more conversational and, come to think of it, that her fellow patients were too. Normally, Heidi relished in her own company – well, her own company and that of her record player – but, in such a depressing setting, she thought that a few exchanged words could make boring days more bearable.

Sighing, as she looked deep into her breakfast, wishing it was something - anything - else, Heidi tugged at the hairband on her wrist. She put her black hair in a ponytail, not missing that the hair was a little bit too oily for her liking. Heidi was, in her own unique way, an attractive girl...or at least that's what her friends used to tell her. She regularly plaited her hair when it was still damp after her nightly shower, achieving beautiful wavy locks come morning time. Thanks to her distant Romanian roots, her dark hair matched her deep brown eyes and freckly complexion.

The wheels of the trolley squealed as though they were as desperate to escape the hospital as the patients. The trolley was then pushed to the patient in Bed 3, Wendy Ulyatt, an attractive and prosperous young lady. Wendy was in her mid-twenties, and she had already achieved more in her lifetime than the rest of the ward combined. Donating her time at her local suicide hotline and volunteering at soup kitchens was second nature to Wendy. Some people would drop a few coins by the side of a beggar every now and then but not Wendy. She was known to sit with homeless people, sometimes for hours, talking about anything and everything with them. In the local circle of homeless people that frequented her local subway stop, she had become known as quite a charitable heroine. She knew many of them on a first-name basis, even knowing some of their birthdays – for which she would always get them a gift. When Wendy sat beside them, she would endlessly offer them hot food and drinks, always leaving with an empty wallet. What a gentle soul she was.

“Any chance of anything that's not a cold slop?” cried Michael Lopez as the trolley turned to cross the middle of the ward towards Bed 4. Michael was only just in his forties but looked closer to fifty. His lifestyle of working long hours and drinking late into the night was catching up to him, and, physically, he was aged well beyond his years. Despite this, he was a handsome man. Quite the cougar, actually. Like Heidi, he had very dark features, but his sleek black hair was now beginning to display strands of grey. Dark bags under his eyes and the slight sign of wrinkles across his face indicated that he was a very tired man. His teeth were yellowing from years of smoking, and his lungs were certainly not thanking him for it either. Forever in a suit, even in his day-to-day life, Michael felt uncomfortable in pyjamas and loungewear – something which many people would relish in wearing daily. His phone was always glued to his ear, constantly seeking out lucrative business deals and targeting young, clueless interns with his scathing comments. Even in his hospital bed, he was a ruthless businessman. His goal was to get out of place as quickly as possible to go back into his office. And, of course, to enjoy tasty food again.

Last, to be served was Sarah Trent, located in Bed 5. Fed up with Michael’s bellyaching and sorely missing her three young children, Sarah longed to escape this clinical environment. It was doing her psyche no favours. She longed to get back to attending her weekly yoga sessions, her only escape from being a full-time mother. Parenthood had certainly aged Sarah in recent years, especially following the birth of her third child. Although not a conventionally attractive woman, being quite plain, Sarah couldn’t be described as ugly. She never wore makeup nowadays, considering it a waste of money, and always had her hair in a messy bun. Having given up focussing on her appearance, Sarah was not a head-turner, but she had a mischievous grin and wicked blue eyes that could hypnotise someone if only they stopped long enough to gaze into them.             

Justin had managed to block out most of Michael’s irritating comments by this point, but the rest had not been as successful. Pushing the remains of his breakfast aside, unable to finish it, Justin reached for his New York Times edition crossword book. Every day after breakfast, he would complete a puzzle from his book, following them in chronological order. Justin was a stickler for routine as it gave him structure and purpose, something that helped him hugely when studying for his degree. He was now up to number sixteen in his crossword book, which made him realise that he had been in the ward for almost a week. At this rate, he might run out of crosswords to do before New Year. He should ask his mom to bring him a new copy.

At the same time, Heidi picked up a new book on improving one's perspective on life. She suffered from chronic anxiety and used most of the techniques that one could find to help her control her breathing and monitor her heart rate. She couldn't quite figure out when her anxiety started, but her doctor suspected her tumultuous relationships and maybe even her childhood. Any available latest equipment that was supposed to help her, she owned, always putting them aside as nothing seemed to help. She really and truly had tried pretty much everything.

Although, ever since childhood, one thing always worked to calm her nerves – music. Plugging herself into her songs made Heidi drift away to another world. A world where her family didn't question her every thought and where she could actually breathe. When the music played, she felt no tight compression in her chest or sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Instead, she would float to the rhythms surrounding her, deeply submerged in not only the lyrics but the instruments harmoniously accompanying them. Never one for playing musical instruments herself, Heidi relished in listening to music – any music at all. Whenever panic consumed her, and the big black dog just wouldn’t leave, escaping to her land of musical pleasure was most the only solution that seemed to ease her stress. 

Wendy was still scrapping around the bottom of the bowl, grateful for the food she was receiving before she reached for her phone. She wanted to check for any incoming calls from the housing association office she worked at. Despite being ill and hospitalised, Wendy would never allow herself to neglect her duties. Focusing just on herself seemed too selfish when she could help someone else. As soon as she was able to phone her work after hospitalization, she explained everything and begged them to keep her in the loop. She wanted to know how everyone was doing and to be contacted if she could help in any way. How could Wendy care for herself when her thoughts were far away, wondering if Mrs Rodriguez and her five children would get a roof under their heads before Christmas? She sat on her bed, pondering how the newlywed Rivera couple could survive in the cold New York winter without a house? How could she help them?

If work needed her, she’d be there. Or, more precisely, if the people that relied on her needed her, she’d be there in a heartbeat, even if it was to be her last one. 

Then there was Michael, who was furiously scribbling on the vast scrolls of sheets of data he placed on his plastic tray. The vein on his forehead was thumping away furiously, about to explode, as he mumbled frustrated comments about his co-workers and the mistakes they had made. Michael couldn’t abide mistakes or sloppiness of any kind. Accuracy and precision were the most important things when it came to working and it infuriated him that not everyone took the same approach. His fingernails pushed into the datasheet, tearing through the paper.

Sarah was gazing wistfully at the pictures that her children had brought in for her on their most recent visit. Most of the drawings followed a very consistent theme: the mom, somehow always drawn with hair down to the floor, even though she never wore her hair down, the dad with his moustache that Sarah secretly hated and the three children standing next to them. There would also be some sort of depiction of their red brick house in the background, and usually, a sun childishly scrawled in the corner. Up until her hospital stay, Sarah lived what many would view as a typical family lifestyle. She ate, slept and breathed, looking after her children, cleaning up their mess and intervening in their juvenile bickering fights. Her suburban house with the neatly trimmed and excellently green front lawn, the two Hyundai, and the white picket fence were everything Sarah had ever wanted. Well, everything she wanted up until recently.

These five people were so very different in so many indescribable ways. However, they all shared two things in common: Ward 4B, and what had caused them to end up in the hospital. None of them could’ve foreseen how their lives were about to intertwine in the most unexpected way imaginable. They came from different backgrounds, sported different personalities, and led largely contrasting lifestyles. Yet here they were.

It felt like fate.

CHAPTER 2 – JUSTIN THEN

I looked at the clock and realised that I had just twenty minutes until my deadline. It was one of my most stress-inducing assignments to date. Scott and Ben were with me as per usual in our place, the back right corner of the ground floor at our college library. It was the last year at New York University for us and I was keen, yet nervous, to complete my degree in architecture. My whole life had led up to this very moment. I had always been a hard worker, forever pushing myself to put 110% effort into anything I did. Everything was leading up to my graduation but unfortunately, I was unable to find a graduate job. I didn’t know what I was going to do with myself just a few months down the line. Just the very thought of being out in the big bad world, no education or job tying me down, terrified me. Many of my fellow students would, no doubt, be thrilled to escape the shackles of non-stop lectures, essays and exams. But, for me, this lifestyle offered a much-needed routine. I had always been entirely committed to learning, and without it, I just didn’t know what to do with myself. So, here I was - waiting for my last deadline, fear of the future lingering in my thoughts.

I had settled on dedicating myself to a career in architecture around the tender age of thirteen. At the time, I had to wear reading glasses because I would read so much, I suffered from constant headaches. Even in the early hours of the mornings, my mom would storm into my room and tell me off for reading instead of being asleep. My bedtime was around 9pm, and I used to read under my covers, squinting while using a tiny flashlight to illuminate the page. This most probably played a part in the need for reading glasses later on in my life. The glasses well and truly completed the nerdy boy look that I had been told I had.

If my memory served me correctly, I started reading lots of magazines relating to building design at the time. My parents thought it was cute that I developed a passion for something practical and I couldn't stop begging them to see the architectural wonders of the world. Architecture filled my heart and mind with no intention of ever leaving.

“I’m done!” Scott said. He was one of my best friends, and I was very lucky to meet him the day I set my foot on campus. We shared similar outlooks on life, and that's why we clicked right from the very start. With the same ethos and motivation, we managed to persist through our degrees, pushing each other to reach our full potentials. Scott also had that same nerdish look about him. Seeing a reflection of myself in his rectangular glasses made me levitate towards him even more and shortly after our relationship developed into a full-blown friendship.

Whilst other students would be downing vodka sodas, Scott and I would be hitting the books at the library, leaving only when we had done all our work. As we walked back to our accommodation, multiple fellow pupils were being kicked out of the local bars, stumbling home intoxicated. I would look at Scott and we would grin at each other. Oh, how different we were – the two contrasting sides of student life. 

Ben was also close with both of us. He was much more laid back, but deep down, I reckoned he was a closeted nerd and secretly loved our geeky chats. Ben studied foreign languages, dabbling in Spanish, French and a side of Italian. He was one of those people that didn’t have to work hard to get good grades and it was a trait I had always dreamed of having.

Funnily enough, Ben’s dad was an architect, something which I would quiz Ben on with no end in sight. Some people would get annoyed when I got like this - hyper about my passion, words coming out quickly before I could stop them - but Ben never seemed to mind. He would answer to the best of his knowledge and even gave me his dad’s office phone number, so I could talk to him if I wanted. Sadly, his dad decided to take a complete career change just a year into our time together at college, leaving architecture behind to pursue a different job and spend more time with his wife.

On this particular night, Scott had finished the last thing on his to-do list. He made one of these every day, saying that the day wasn't done until his list was. I did a similar thing but with a spreadsheet, enabling me to know what I should be doing every single minute of every single day. Dull, but productive. It was what I had always done throughout my school years, and I knew it worked.

“Neat, man,” I said. “Are you heading off?” Scott replied with a simple nod and began to pack up his bag, keen to head back to his dorm to catch some sleep before the next work-filled day dawned on us. Heaven knew how many hours we had spent at the library that day. Ben and I left about an hour after Scott. By that time, we would be buzzing. Both mentally from having finished all our work and physically from all the energy drinks we would guzzle to stay awake in the library. 

This was what we did most days and even more regularly when we had deadlines looming over us. Looking back, I realised that it was very unhealthy. As the final year approached, the deadlines were coming in fast. One day I would finish a report about some boring case study which I would never read again and then give it 48 hours and BAM – a new piece of coursework would be set. I, however, didn't complain about it - I had worked hard to get to this point in my life, so I was glad to be thriving on my hectic schedule.

Even in preschool, I had a competitive streak. I would try to be the best at learning, the quickest to read, the best at adding. When the other boys argued over who owned the best soccer ball, I would be flicking through the picture books wishing they had more words in them. I was no child prodigy, but I loved learning, it was my passion, my purpose. 

Childish games and bickers between friends were never my things. I could never understand how arguments happened. How did they start? Even more baffling, how did they escalate? Children argue over such trivial things. By the time I was around the age of five, I had pretty much made up my little mind that work came first and a social life second.

This may sound extremely sad, but what most outsiders would consider as ‘loneliness’ was when I was the happiest. I loved learning. I loved succeeding even more – scoring highly in pop quizzes seemed to boost my self-esteem through the roof. The only times I felt truly happy was when my learning efforts were validated by high grades. I wasn't unpopular, but I was also far from being considered popular, not that I ever wanted to be.

By the time I turned seven years old, my mom sat me down for an ‘important conversation’. Whenever she used the word ‘important’ I knew she was about to be serious about something. The last such conversation had happened when she told me my Grampy, her dad, had died. This time no one had died.

"I wanted to talk to you about friendships," she said. She continued on, trying to highlight the importance of building meaningful relationships with my peers. Years later, she told me that she felt guilty about my loneliness. She blamed herself for not pushing me harder.

I always wished I had a sibling but I had been somewhat of a miracle child. My parents couldn't conceive for years but the universe blessed them with one child and one child only.

"Mom, I was never lonely," I told her then. Yes, I was alone, but I never felt wronged in any way when I was on my own. I knew I was loved. “Hand on heart, mom, I swear,” I had said. I think this put her mind at rest, at least a little bit.

However, I didn't know that what she wanted to hear when I was seven. I thought I was doing something wrong because I didn't have any friends, and I didn't want to do anything that made my mom sad. So, the next day in school, I decided to do something and made my mom happy. I decided to try.

I remember being nervous as I forced myself to approach the new girl who sat on the bench by herself during lunch. As I stumbled my way over to her, mom’s words of wisdom rang loud in my head, motivating me to go through with it.

"Hi," I said quietly, and I blushed, realising I already did something wrong. Miraculously, she heard me and looked up. Her deep green eyes shone through her wide frame glasses. She grinned charmingly.  

"Hi," she replied.

"I'm Justin," I looked around for something to say. "Is... is this seat taken?"

"No, you can sit," she said, now smiling. Proud of my confidence, I took a seat beside her and desperately rubbed my palms against my three-quarter length trousers, embarrassed of my profusely sweaty hands. "I'm Elizabeth. Elizabeth Newson," she said and put her hand in front of me. I was confused for a second before realising that she wanted me to shake it, so I did just that.

"So, huh?" I mumbled. What an opener. She furrowed her eyebrows, but her eyes stayed playful. “Where ya from?”

“Poughkeepsie,” she answered, “but I was actually born outta state.”

"Oh, whereabouts?" She furrowed her eyebrows some more.

“I thought outta state was a place.”

"It could be lots of other states, actually. It just means 'other state', ya know? It's not that hard," I tried to explain without sounding too cocky. At this point, Miss Newson could have easily misconstrued me as arrogant and rude as others usually did when I tried to talk to them. But she was different. Even at the age of seven, she saw the best in people and gave everyone a chance.

My memory of her response was so vivid that I could transport myself to it by simply closing my eyes. She rose to her feet, her ponytail swinging around her head, reached out to me and said, "Show me where I was born then." She asked in such a genuine way, I was felt speechless.

After a couple of seconds, my ability to speak came back, and I started talking. A lot. I tried searching for a logical answer that I had no place of knowing. Finally, I looked up to see Elizabeth staring at me, about to burst out laughing. She took my hand, and my heart skipped a beat as she pulled me towards the playground.

We then proceeded to walk around, hand in hand, talking about the different states in America. We would wonder where she may have been born and then continue naming the states we knew. I, in fact, knew all fifty by this point, but I didn’t want to run the risk of looking even more of a bighead that I thought she saw me as. But, of course, she never saw me this way: she understood me. One of the few people that ever did.

Most days, we would walk around talking incessantly about everything and nothing.

"Do you think space is bigger than infinity?" she would ask one day.

"I like motorcycles," I would say another time as we looked at one passing the school.

"How do giraffes drink water if their necks are so long?" Somehow, we just clicked, practically instantly. And, seemingly out of nowhere, I had a friend. Needless to say, my mother was thrilled.

As time progressed, my mom would constantly suggest inviting Elizabeth for a playdate. I would always make up an excuse. It was not that I didn’t want to spend more time with her, I was just afraid to ruin our routine.

"Well, you should still ask her," my mother said. A couple of weeks later, I finally listened to her.

"My mom keeps on inviting you for a playdate but I don't want you to think that you have to come, I'm fine with us just playing here and-" Elizabeth screamed and jumped into my arms, locking me into a happy hug.

"Of course, I want to play with you, silly," she said, and I smiled.

During this playdate, my mom called Elizabeth by her name and the girl grimaced.

"I don't like my name," she said to me later. "It's too old fashioned. Like an old lady or something. And mom and dad call me by my full name. Always. I hate it."

"How about Lizzie?" I suggested, trying to find a solution to her problem.

"Boooring."

"Beth?" She just rolled her eyes and started picking on the grass that we sat on. After a couple of minutes, she looked right at me, her eyes big.

"I know!" she exclaimed. I waited with bated breath for the grand reveal. “My new name will be... Lizard!” I wanted to laugh, but I realised that she was deadly serious.

“Oh, really?” I asked. 

“Yeah, really. It’s different and it connects to my real name. It works."

Again, she had a point. Over the years, she would actually become known as Lizzie, but to me, she was and always will be Lizard, a ginger girl who picked at grass in my garden.

I thought about the silly name and realised that she was right. It suited her. Unique and not afraid to be herself. She taught me a lot. While I educated her with my endless streams of facts, she showed me how to never be afraid to jump into life. Thanks to her, I managed to learn how to socialise and be truly myself around others. And, just like that, Justin and Lizard became inseparable.

We maintained our friendship throughout our school years. In high school, Lizard did make friends with a group of girls, but she never forgot me, and I never forgot her. I also found people with similar mindsets to mine, nerds who liked nothing more than to study. Maybe her friends thought I was weird, and an acne-prone gangly lad with a silly blonde haircut that surrounded himself with similar skinny, gangly boys. But Lizard stood by me through everything. 

Every weekend, without fail, Lizard would meet me in my backyard under the tall oak tree, and we would simply talk just as we always did. By the time we turned sixteen, she told me that she was eternally grateful for me coming over to her that day at recess.

We also managed to find out that she was born in Queens, very much not 'outta state' of New York.

“Outta state huh?” I would tease her, and she would roll her eyes at me. “Last time I checked; Queens was in New York.” She would playfully punch me in the shoulder and smile.

"Not everyone can be a child genius. I was seven, let it go, nerd."

"Never, Lizard," I would answer, and she would pretend to be angry before bursting into laughter. Her laugh almost consumed all of her as she threw her head back, tears in her eye, giggles escaping her lips. It wasn't perfect, but it was beautiful in a unique way, just like her. That was just one of the many things I loved about her.

CHAPTER 3 – HEIDI THEN

Mom was on another one of her ‘missions’ as I liked to call them. When she got like that, I would make myself and her a cup of coffee, sit to drink mine and then watch hers go cold. By the time she managed to tear herself away from pacing around the kitchen, she would need to make a new one. That was just how mom was: highly neurotic and never not worrying. She would shift items an inch to the left than an inch to the right just so things could be ‘right’. Later, she would only undo these changes, deciding that particular object belonged in a different room or in the garbage or out on the back porch.

"It just wasn't right," she told me after throwing away a figurine of a cat that usually sat in the living room.

Other times, her 'missions' included deciding that the whole house was filthy and spending almost three days deep cleaning every surface she could find. During those days, I would move from room to room, avoiding her distraught eyes, looking, seeking for something that looked 'wrong'. Sometimes I worried she would look at me and decide that I didn't fit this week's decor. It never happened but my heart always skipped a beat seeing her eyes jumping around the room.

This was what I grew up around, so I never thought anything of it. The only time it struck me as odd was when I visited friends at their houses for playdates. Their mommies would let washing up build up, ignoring it, saying that they would ‘do it later'. At my friends’ houses, I would see my friends eat sugary treats and wonder if mom was right about teeth rotting from just one candy. Sally's teeth looked fine, and she ate a lot of them. One time, I spilt juice on the carpet and started apologising to Sally's mom, crying, saying that I didn't mean to do it.

"Oh, honey, don't worry. Things spill all the time around here. Nothing to cry about," she told me and I couldn't understand how she could not care about it.

I never had the heart to ask mom why she was like this but according to my therapist, Chris, it could have stemmed from a lack of structure in her childhood. Ironically, and rather cruelly, her poor upbringing went on to directly influence mine, hence the need for the therapist. Mom’s ways undoubtedly made me the way I was today: crippling with anxiety, constantly fighting with my own thoughts, and most probably addicted to my long-term antidepressants.

Anyway, as I was saying, mom was on a mission, I could see it in her eyes. I sipped my coffee, patiently waiting for her to calm down and, for the love of God, wishing she would just relax. I gave up any hope of this happening years ago, but a girl could dream. She was now scratting around in the microwave, wiping away stains that were never there.

“Any idea of when Dad will be gracing us with his presence?” I asked though I already knew the answer. At this point in time, I had learnt that filler questions, with no significant answer, were the best way to distract my mother, if only for a couple of seconds.

“No, I’ve no clue. He said he might be late today,” she replied, without moving her head, eyes focused on the microwave door. I rolled my eyes. Of course, he did. He always did. My dad was the infamous Daniel Monroe, a seedy reporter who made up bloody awful stories even when they were only about 10% true. All the lies just to make a measly salary. Not to be a cliche, but I hated my father. Yet, somehow, my mom played the dutiful role of his perfect wife because she could not bear to be apart from him. Their marriage was not built on love but on co-dependence and situational convenience. She had no guts to leave him, and I think she knew that. She never did it, so I could only assume how she really felt.

With a deep sigh, I resigned to my room to listen to my latest LP. The only thing that could calm me in this less than functional household was music. It calmed me and excited me at the same time, unlike anything else I have ever experienced. I owed a lot to music, it kept me sane...or at least as sane as I could ever be.

That day, my brother, Daniel Jr, was arrested for the first time. I said 'first time' because over the years this proved to be the way of life that Dan had sculpted out for himself. This first arrest actually only led to community service. Later they would lead to jail.

We discovered the news of Dan’s arrest from dad, who decided it was an appropriate piece of news to deliver right after asking for corn on the cob during dunner. We always had to sit and eat together, which made Dan’s absence stick out like a sore thumb. The arrest news naturally led mom into a fit of hysterics, as dad probably anticipated once he had dropped the bombshell. Maybe that's why he waited until after dinner was served to tell mom - he wanted to make sure he still got something to eat while she sobbed on the floor.

“What? How? They can’t lock up my baby!” she cried. I looked at dad, who was busy chomping on his corn, and I stood up to leave. I could hear my heart beating faster and faster with every step. When I finally got into my room, I could hear nothing but mom's cries and my own heartbeat. My hands were shaking as I put the headphones on, music blasting into my ears, covering the unwanted thoughts with soothing melodies.

This might seem odd, but I wasn’t surprised to hear about my brother. Dan had been on the wrong track for years, and the arrest was inevitable. However, I wished he didn't do it, I wished he just stayed good enough and never got caught because after his arrest... mom couldn't stop.

"I... I need to make sure the house is perfect for when Daniel Jr comes back," she would say, wiping a lightbulb before placing it back in the lamp. "It has to be perfect for him," she would add while on her knees, scrubbing the oven. "Has to be perfect," she would say and I knew that nothing else mattered and would never matter to her mother.

Nothing but perfection.

CHAPTER 4 – WENDY THEN

Once you see your mom being sick over the toilet at three in the morning with a heroine needle hanging out of her, you can never really remove that image from your mind. My upbringing was rough, to say the least. On the most part, I was left to fend for myself, searching through the grotty cupboards to see if I could find anything to eat.

I never knew who my father was. I asked mom once when I was young and naive and she just looked at me as if I just told her that Santa Clause was real.

"I don't know, kid, take a pick, could be anyone," she said, exhaling cigarette smoke. Ten minutes later she left with one of her 'boyfriends' and didn't come back for two days. This happened very often and, at the age of ten, I decided that I was done. I was old enough to notice that the life I was living was not normal. I saw the other kids with their clean clothes, washed faces and full lunchboxes. They didn’t smell. They weren't hungry. They were loved.

Strange men would frequent our place at all hours and I soon grew to know better than to try sticking around. I now realised that mom was more than likely earning from these visits. As a toddler, I would be shunned away to another room to sit alone for hours on end. When I got a bit older, I used to roam the streets until I thought that the coast was clear. Nine times out of ten, I timed it right. I will never forget the times I was wrong.

With the soles flapping on the bottom of my filthy sneakers, I would walk the streets of New York City for countless hours. All just at the age of eight. I used to know the city like the back of my hand. Not just the main roads and walking routes but the real city – the backstreets, the shortcuts, the secrets were mapped out in my mind.

One day, a cop car sped past me before doing a U-turn at the end of the road and my entire body tensed.

“Hey, little girl!” they yelled after me but I was long gone. After darting down a back alley and taking a sharp right, I could hear their persistent yelling, insisting that they wanted to help me but I didn't believe them. I didn't believe that anyone could help me. I had never been cared for properly, fending for myself from as soon as I could put one foot in front of the other. The idea of someone showing me compassion and helping me was a foreign concept, and the siren blaring towards me was terrifying. Jumping over bags of trash and darting behind bins, I made my escape, leaving the police officers behind. After I knew I was safe, I managed to catch my breath, and I threw up in a nearby bin. I made sure the police never chased me again, that they never spotted me.

I always felt more comfortable outside, in the streets of New York, than in my own house. Maybe it was because I was born in Central Park, in a dark spot where my mother managed to avoid streetlights and people for long enough to pop out a baby. She told me years later that she went to the steps of that local orphanage with little me, who was a few hours old. In the early hours of the morning, on a cold yet muggy summer night, she placed me naked and vulnerable on the steps of the building before turning to leave. But, for some reason, she couldn’t quite face leaving me behind. Every day of my life, I wished that she never turned back.

I used to wonder how my life could've turned up if my mom made a different choice. Maybe I would have been adopted and raised by a loving family. They could be from Connecticut and have three kids already – two boys and a girl and then I would come along and complete the set. They would have a place just outside the city, a dog, a cat and a rabbit. A big backyard that my siblings and I would forever be goofing around in. Oh, how we would goof. I would go to school every day and learn so many things. The countries of the world, all the different shapes and maybe even another language too. I would grow up alongside a consortium of friends at my beck and call and become someone with a high end, top of the ladder job. Maybe a lawyer or something. My folks would be so proud of me. I would be proud of me.

But instead, my mom picked me back up from those steps. I ended up with a life of wandering the streets and fending for myself. No pets, no siblings and no tender loving care.

Nowadays, I probably would have been taken by social services. I did attend school on the odd occasion, so hopefully, the authorities would pick up on my absences and step in. I could have gotten a proper education. Gone further in life. Don’t get me wrong, I went on to find a job that I loved which was immensely rewarding, but I always felt I could’ve achieved so much more if I was given the chance to do so. I would have loved to become a humanitarian, travelling out to crises worldwide and helping people who were stuck in their worst nightmares.

I lived in squalor above a Chinese takeout, next to a dirty back alley that most people would never set foot down, let alone live by. The last time I saw that alley, I walked past two rats rummaging around Chinese noodle boxes. One of them looked at me and hissed, trying to protect his food. I knew it was a low moment in my life if I could relate to a rat.

So here I was, hours later, strolling the fifth avenue at the crack of dawn when I realised that I didn't want to continue living like this. Even at the young age of ten, I felt that I deserved better than rummaging the streets like an unwanted dog.

And then I saw it, a building that I walked next to almost every day and never paid much attention to. The hospital. The place where doctors and nurses helped people. 'Maybe they could help me,' I thought, my legs already moving towards a raft that life threw at me.

I knew my life was about to change, but I could never have fathomed just how much. An angel in the form of a young nurse with neatly pinned back strawberry blonde hair caught my eye. She shot me a toothy smile, and I was instantly in awe of her. Making something of herself, a nurse with a direction in life, able to help people in need.

"Hello, sweetheart. Can I help you with anything?" Even her voice was angelic. Perhaps she would never fully comprehend just how much she did for me by simply asking that little question to a seemingly lost child. Before I could stop myself, before I could shut down like I always did when someone tried to help me, I looked into her deep blue eyes.

"I need help," I said, and suddenly, I was spilling my guts, tears running down my face as I try to explain everything I could about myself and about my mother. I saw her eyes get teary, just for a second, before a new emotion appeared in them, something I couldn't quite place when I was younger. It was determination, an honest drive to help me.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I can help you," she said and, at that moment, I knew that I would forever be indebted to nurse Wendy Miller and her kind blue eyes.

The authorities were notified. I was never abused per se, just neglected, and I made this clear from the start. Following this, I spent much of my teenage years in and out of various orphanages and foster homes. Mom and I were still in contact for a little while as she was permitted an hour-long supervised visit biweekly at the local town hall. The problem was... what do you talk about with your neglectful mother? What drugs have you done? Got a new boyfriend? Why did you even have me? The social worker often interjected with tales of my A+ essays and other achievements. Mom would always act pleased, but her smile never quite reached her eyes.

To this day, I was convinced she never forgave me for leaving her. She just couldn’t help but feel like we were in it together and I got away. But... what was I supposed to do? Grow up to be like her? Another druggie with no purpose in life? I wanted something better, something healthier. Something normal. I don't think she ever understood it, keeping this weird sense of betrayal close to her heart, never looking me in the eye when we talked.

By the time I reached thirteen, our visits become less frequent until they stopped completely in the middle of August. Mom had found a new boyfriend, Ted or Tom, and she was besotted by this new kind of low life. She liked to think he was a businessman, but I knew that to be a fancy way of saying 'drug dealer'. The next thing I knew, they are running off to Las Vegas to elope and I never heard from her again. I never really expected to.

She never even said goodbye. I don't know why I was disappointed by that but I was.

By the time I was eighteen, I decided I wanted to change my name. I wanted to completely separate the unwanted little girl who compared herself to a street rat from a woman I had become. Stuck for ideas and desperate to get it just right, my mind instantly drifted towards the loving nurse who gave me a chance and saved my life. Wendy. And so, I became Wendy Ulyatt. The Ulyatt part was not meaningful as it came from a flier that landed on the doormat one evening. It just had a ring to it. A ring of someone who was going somewhere. It sounded good and felt even better.

It didn't, however, made me forget who I really was, where I came from. Even now, when I shut my eyes, I can still smell the stink I used to have and feel my matted, greasy hair sticking to my scalp. I could still smell the damp of the hovel that mom and I used to live in, the mould, the shouting right outside my window, the crying that seemingly came from all around. I knew that no matter how hard I tried, I could never forget that place.

As I became Wendy Ulyatt, I vowed that I would try my absolute best for the rest of my life to stopping anyone else from living the way I used to. Of course, I couldn’t save the whole world, but I could start somewhere familiar, somewhere that needed help - the streets of New York City.

CHAPTER 5 – MICHAEL THEN

I never truly had friends as a kid. They slowed me down, pulled me away from what was important. They did things the wrong way, not my way, and I always ended up redoing them to fix their mistakes. My mother, a cold and unloving woman, and father, a mostly absent businessman, always expected perfection from me. Even in my childhood, I was never really a child. More like a grown man stuck in the body of a kid, waiting to grow up so people can start to take him seriously.

I had a twin sister with who I never got along. Gina always was, and I believe always will be, very difficult to get along with. Well, then again, I am a difficult sort of guy as well. We both also liked to win. I used to joke that we probably competed in our mother's womb, racing who can be born first. I won. And then Gina came along, six minutes later, and we hated each other ever since.

Throughout our childhoods, we would argue constantly. To her credit, Gina was very articulate, so she tended to best me in verbal arguments, which often ended up with me throwing what one might call a 'hissy fit'. By our teen years, we decided to simply ignore each other. At school, we pretended we didn't know each other, which could be hard, considering that we had the same surname. However, we were very different, and most of our classmates didn't even realise we were siblings, let alone twins. We walked home separately at the end of the day, not making eye contact while meeting in front of our house.

Every time an exam at school came around, we both bashed away furiously at our textbooks all night every night just so that we could do better than the other. We didn't really care about the grades - Gina only ever wanted to do better than me and I only ever wanted to do better than her. Winning gave me satisfaction and an opportunity to tease her until the next test came around.

When my father was not busy working or sleeping with his secretary, he would pit us against each other.

“Only room for winners in this world,” he would say. This became his mantra and was deeply instilled in both of us. We were embroiled in fire and dad always added petrol to it. Mom would be far away in the distance, ignoring the flames instead of putting them out. She would simply look down on us, a pyromaniac thrill in her eyes, letting us burn slowly.

I always thought it was unfair when we were younger and had to retire to our rooms as soon as the guests arrived at the cocktail parties my mom loved to throw. But, as I got older, we were forced to attend the parties, and I began to envy my younger self. My mother was impartial to our rivalry. If we both did well, she had what she wanted – something to show off to her friends. She loved an opportunity to gloat, and her parties were just that: a big event during which she could toot her own horn all evening.

In our finals, somehow, Gina managed to get two points more than me. She never let me forget this, and I always hated her a little bit more for that. Or maybe I just hated myself.

By the time it came around to picking out a college, it was an unspoken agreement between my sister and me that we needed to go to opposite ends of the country. Being from the Cobble Hill, the rich past of Brooklyn, we needed to escape New York and stay far apart. She landed on Harvard in Massachusetts and I picked Stanford in California.

From the day we both moved out to go to college, we rarely saw each other. I always insisted the plane journey from California was just too much to travel for every small holiday, like Easter, and instead, I visited in summer, thus avoiding seeing my sister as much as possible. However, this wasn't enough of an excuse when it came to Christmas, meaning I had to spend the festive period at home. I only managed to force myself back for a week most years, insisting I had too much work to do towards my business and economics degree.

In California, I lived student life to the maximum, letting my hair down now that I was no longer in the shadow of my better twin. A once a fortnight phone call with mom was about as much as I could muster when I wasn’t puking over a toilet bowl or in bed with a girl. Sometimes dad would shoot me a curt email reminding me to work hard, as though I could ever forget.

During frat year, I went off the rails, sleeping around with random girls, most of whom I didn’t know the names of. I doubt that the angel Gina got up to such shenanigans. 

I started using friends like I used the random girls. I only associated with people who would help me progress. Once they became useless to me, I would drop them like a hot rod. This is the way I have always been. Brutal but efficient. If someone was no use to me, they were gone from my life.

I didn’t work as hard in college as I didn’t have Gina to compete with. But I got through it with a good enough degree, and I managed to walk straight into a job at a top business management incorporation firm called Henderson and Pollock. Much to my constant annoyance and utter denial, it was only down to my father that I got this job. He had a friend who managed to get me an interview.

Unfortunately, the one stipulation of this job was I had to move back to New York. But I figured I could still use the same ‘too much work’ excuse to try and steer clear of my folks and their perpetual social gatherings. They did manage to force a few odd weekends out of me. And, of course, there was the usual nightmarish Christmas, where the four of us would put on quite the show, pretending to be a tight-knit happy family in front of dad’s various business associates. 

Gina went on to be a high court barrister, working on the typical stabbing in the city cases that happened every other day. Boring. I would sell stocks and snap up shares, often into the early hours of the morning. The market would reopen at six in the morning, and I would be unable to tear myself away. Sleep was unknown to me, and the coffee shop on the ground floor of my fifty-story office block felt like heaven. I must have given that place thousands over the years for their sub-standard coffees.

Ever since the first day I set foot through those glass revolving doors, I set out to mark my authority. This turned out to be easy. One of the many things that dad taught me was: you have to make your mark from the get-go. Have the others bark to your every beck. Strick fear. They were my minions, and inters, in particular, were as disposable as the many paper coffee cups I got through. After all, there was only room for winners in this world. 

CHAPTER 6 – SARAH THEN

Ma and pa really did have it all. Well, at least all that mattered. We didn’t have much money but we made up for it with the love in our hearts. I was slap bang in the middle of five kids – a boy, a girl, me, a boy and a girl. One of each, above and below. Love was in no short supply in the Jenkins clan.

We lived on a respectable ranch just outside of Connecticut with a small-hold or kid-friendly animals like chickens and rabbits. We would all chip in with the animals, working at all hours to collect eggs and such to sell to the local villagers.

Our community was unbreakable. Everyone looked out for everyone. If anyone were short of money and couldn’t afford food, they would send their kids down the road to knock on a neighbour’s door and say that mama sent them for dinner. We, kids, never fully understood the meaning of this, but looking back, it warmed up my heart. Food was never really much of a problem for our family as we had our own supply right out the back door, so very often these kids would visit us. We had eggs, milk and homemade butter ready so ma would invite them in in a heartbeat, no questions asked. A thick slice of a loaf and melted butter went down a treat. We would eat like kings – at least that’s what it felt like.

Ma also used to grow her own berries and make various jams and preserves. Any surplus would be frozen in our industrial-sized freezer we had out in the back barn and saved for winter, where the jam-making process would continue. Ma would send us off into town with a few coins most weekends, with strict instructions on how many ounces of sugar we were to get from Mrs Smith at the shop. Trudging back home, sharing the weight between us, we would chatter about which jams ma would be making and what to call the latest chicks. 

It’s funny but I don’t even remember us ever arguing. We must’ve done, all kids do, but our childhoods were so full to the brim with happy memories that I guess they must’ve outshone the less happy ones. We really were fortunate. 

We were your typical country bumpkins. This was the case for the first five years of my life. Then, when mom popped out her last kid, Zachary, we moved to New York City, the polar opposite of everything we knew and loved. We moved because pa was offered a grand construction job in Brooklyn and, as I found out later, they felt a change would be good for us, help us move in the world. Even if we were only moving state, it felt like were we off to an entirely different planet.

It was an extraordinarily sad day. We had to say goodbye to everyone back home. I remember crying while Mad Joe, our neighbour, tried to make me feel better about the move.

"It's okay, little one. You will grow to be big and smart, and we will always remember you here," he said. With a long white beard and scruffy old denim jeans, and what looked like a white shirt stained with tea leaves, he was no looker. But a kind soul nonetheless with no malice in him, and for this reason, my folks looked out for him.

Rumour has it that one year at the annual produce fair in the village, Mad Joe was caught by my pa inside a sheep pen, baa-ing around the place on all fours pretending to be a sheep. I must admit I reckon pa exaggerated the story a little but then again, that was something I could imagine Mad Joe doing.

“So long, little ones!” he called after our car as we drove away. I waved passionately at him out of the window. A wide grin spread across his face at the thought of this little girl caring so much about saying goodbye to the local loony. But that’s the thing about kids - they don’t judge. Many people would’ve ignored Mad Joe, but the Jenkins family never did. My folks were adamant that as long as a person had a good heart, they deserved a chance. This was instilled in us kids for the rest of our lives.

Not that long after we moved to the city, we heard that Mad Joe had passed away. He had gone to fetch his mail from the mailbox at the end of his drive and never made it that far. He was found by some local kids slumped about halfway down his driveway. They said that it was instant and I am glad as I wouldn’t want to think of him suffering alone. My folks and my two eldest siblings, Jason and Amanda, travelled back for his funeral. They left us three young ones with the neighbours they had soon befriended after our big move. Apparently, over two hundred people attended that day and considering the population of our little town was probably around two hundred and one, that was indeed very impressive. You never know the impact you make. 

About a couple of weeks after we moved in, we were contacted by a lawyer who had traced Joseph Abelman’s last will and testament. Still to this day, I was amazed Mad Joe ever made a will. Dear old Joe had left a little of something to everyone he knew and treated him well. The cash we inherited from him may not have been much but the thought was heart-warming. His life was simple but maybe if everyone were as kind and carefree as Mad Joe, they’d get two hundred folks mourning for them. 

The day we moved to the city was certainly a significant one in all our lives. By this time I was five but I loved to insist I was nearly six as my birthday was only a month away. Zachary, just a babe at this point in time, slept the whole way whilst Mary moaned throughout the entire journey.

"Ma, how much longer?" she would ask every five minutes, driving us all insane. Jason and Amanda tried to make up games to pass the time but I was completely in awe of the whole world around me. 

I would never forget my first glimpse of the city. Tall skyscrapers, I thought, must be able to reach the moon and traffic as far as the eye could see. People bustled around the place, eager to get to where they were going, walking fast, with a purpose. From that day on, I knew I would never leave. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the ranch and the lifestyle it gave us but the city felt right. It felt magical like I was floating in the air.

While ma was unpacking, pa decided to take me for a walk. While downtown, I am pretty sure that my mouth must’ve hung wide open the whole time. There were people everywhere, swarming around the place like ants. Punks with bright green hair stood on end in Mohicans, young girls with their boobs basically hanging out were smoking cigarettes and old men dressed in suits were walking to somewhere, too busy to notice that they all looked alike.

Pa made sure to keep a tight grip on my hand the whole time. He wouldn’t let the wind blow on me, my pa.

“Let’s do skipping!” I demanded, as I often did. A story my pa loved to bring up every holiday until his dying day. At this point, most grown men, eager to fit into the new city lifestyle and not risk looking daft, would’ve kindly let their daughter down. But not my pa.

For around half an hour, we skipped all our way around the district, taking in the sights and loving every minute. People were staring, I have no doubt of that but pa didn’t care and nearly six years old me certainly didn’t. Bouncing along, we soon got our bearings and I think that was a crucial moment for both of us. As I grew older, pa would often confide in me and me in him. One day he told me that he had been worried that the city was not right for us and he was concerned that our family might change too much. We were us and he wanted us to stay that way. Then, skipping along with his mousy haired, gap-toothed daughter, it dawned on him. The Jenkins’ hearts would never change.

CHAPTER 7 – NOW

“Christ, I need a shave,” groaned Michael. Everyone’s ears sprung to attention. Michael rarely spoke to his fellow Ward 4B dwellers, but when he did, he held this sort of presence over the room that made everyone hush. It was a particularly cold winter day. Justin, located closest to the door, was shivering under his covers. One of the nurses had offered to find him a blanket but he had to wait until the next round to get it.

“Second that,” chuckled Justin. He hated when his facial hair grew too long. His floppy, blond hair he could put up with but when any stubble came through, it always seemed to be ginger. He had grown it out in the past when he was at his lowest mentally, purely because he couldn’t work up the energy to shave. Back then, he had been in a deep depression, spiralling in endless cycles of gloom and doom, and shaving wasn’t a priority. Grimacing, Justin thought he might ask the nurse delivering his blanket to also get him a razor and some shaving foam.

“What’s a guy gotta do to get a shave around here?” cried Michael, anger seeping from every pore of his body. Sarah just tutted. She couldn’t put up with his whinging ways and wished he’d just be happy for once. He was scarily similar to her five-year-old son, who could be a right little tearaway at times.

“Well, have you got a razor in your holdall?” asked Wendy, eager to help where she could. “I could probably get some warm water from the bathroom and bring it over to you.”

“Nope,” replied Michael. “I didn’t exactly pack for this prison camp.” His response was curt but Wendy just smiled and shrugged. Michael threw his head back and groaned. “God, I need to get outta here.”

“Quit your bellyaching,” retorted Sarah from the adjacent bed. She immediately regretted getting involved as she didn’t have the energy to argue. 

“Excuse me?” bellowed Michael in response. “Who do you think you are telling me wh-“

“And who do you think you are to mope around all day moaning about literally everything you can think of?" She rolled her eyes. "I’ve got a five-year-old that you would get on with splendidly. He might teach you to tone the whining down a little bit.”

Michael threw her a dirty glare and turned to face the other direction but he did stay quiet, to everyone's surprise. He went on to refuse to look in Sarah’s direction for the rest of the day.

Wendy felt uncomfortable. She hated drama even if she faced it every day at work at the housing association office for the borough of Brooklyn. Single mothers with a consortium of children would march in, their troops following them and demand she put a roof over their heads. This would break Wendy’s heart. She wanted to help, of course she did, but it wasn’t that easy. There were forms to be filled in, background checks to be carried out. However, some people were less than obliging when it came to completing these tasks. To top it all off, even if she managed to find them somewhere they could potentially move into, there was no guaranteeing that their budget would be enough. It would tear Wendy apart when a situation like this arose. The most upsetting for her was when folks had moved into somewhere but, more often than not, they hated the place. She had countless records of new properties where the family had been greeted by flea-ridden rats, festering beetles and questionable smells. Wendy was forever begging the greater powers to improve procedural policies and the standards of new homes so that these situations could be avoided. But her begging fell on deaf ears. 

Suddenly, Wendy jumped out from her bed and run to the window.

“What’s going on?” Sarah asked, confused with her behaviour.

“Christmas carollers! I swear, I could hear the bells ringing.” She flexed her body to get a better angle. “There, they are! And look at their cute little outfits! That kid is dressed as a snowman!” She sighed and shook her head. “I can’t wait to get out of here.”

It was now only a couple of days until Christmas, and needless to say, no one wanted to still be in the Ward 4B come December 25th. But the way things were going, it didn't look good for them. They were now all in a stable condition and their injuries were non-life-threatening. Still, nonetheless, the nurses were insistent that they needed continuous observation for the foreseeable future.

As a kid, Justin enjoyed Christmas despite it being the only day of the year where he couldn’t see Lizard. They always got each other a little present to make the other know that they were important to each other. Lizard would usually get him something trivia related – a book, board game or, on one occasion, a selection of playing cards with a fact on the back of each one. She would usually receive from him a colouring book and some pencils or some sort of teaching yourself to cross stitch set as she loved all things creative. They knew each other so well.

As Justin got older and progressed with his education, he soon found a reason to love Christmas. It was the time of year where no one would judge you for not doing work, and he wouldn’t feel bad because of it. He would travel home on the tube, a large laundry bag shoved to the brim in tow and revel in the time he would spend relaxing with his family. As soon as he got through the door, there would be a hot meal on the table and his mom would take his laundry and set about putting a wash on right away. After Christmas dinner, while his parents were taking a power nap, he would look under the tree for a nicely wrapped gift, knowing that Lizard would never forget about him, especially not during Christmas.

Heidi didn’t exactly love Christmas but also didn’t exactly hate it either. Christmas Day would go either one or two ways in the Monroe household. Either they would all bicker and end up in different rooms or they would get along just long enough to see the day through. Two things were for sure: her mom would hustle around the place in a constant panic with a bin liner in tow for all the loose wrapping paper, and her dad would have to dash off in the afternoon, keen to report on some deadbeat story that no one cared about. 

Wendy had always loved the Christmas period. She never received a present from her mom but also never felt she missed out. Wendy adored the bright lights and smell of roasting chestnuts and still did to this day. Just a whiff of chestnuts roasting, and she would instantly be taken back to the most magical times of her youth. Alone and cold, she would gaze at the displays in shop windows for hours on end. While other children screamed out the toys they wanted before quickly moving on to something in another store, Wendy would remain fixed in place, mesmerized by the magical sights before her. This was one of the best ways to pass the time on those freezing New York City nights.

It would be a strange year for Wendy to not spend Christmas Day down at her local soup kitchen, feeding what felt like thousands of people. All walks of life came in for a sub-par Christmas dinner on the big day, but they all had one thing in common - this was their only way to get a hot meal. They didn't have a choice. Wendy, however, did have a choice. And her choice was to help others – always was. Come rain or shine, Christmas Day or not. She would always choose to do this. It was just her way. 

Michael was about as opposite from Wendy as one could get when it came to Christmas. Whilst Wendy usually dressed up as a reindeer every year to make people laugh as they collected their meal, Michael hated all things festive. As far as he was concerned, it was all just some blown out of proportion excuse at gawdy advertising and commercial exploitation. A waste of time and a waste of money. He’d hated Christmas ever since he could remember. He and Gina would always fight over who had the most presents, ate the most roast potatoes and countless other trivial things. Their mother would stay out of it all, usually spending her time planning the big annual New Year’s Eve party that they just had to have every year. Then there was their dad, fed up with the arguing, who would pick a side and shove them in one of the spare rooms of the house to try to get along. It did not work.

When the city buzzed with the glow of thousands of lights and the sound of carol singers, Michael would shove his way through the city, keen to get back to the sanctuary of his office. The first Christmas he spent with Henderson and Pollock was probably memorable for everyone that worked with Michael. Around the start of December, a few close work colleagues stayed behind to decorate the office with what Michael considered to be hideously outrageous tinsel and streamers. The following morning Michael, who always arrived slightly after everyone else as he liked them to see him walk in, threw a fit of rage. Before his bemused co-workers knew it, Mr Lopez was ripping everything down, shouting at everyone to follow him and remove the ‘shiny crap’ from around the walls. They did, of course, in fear of him and the office was never decorated again. Christmas would not be celebrated if Michael was there. 

Sarah, on the other hand, adored Christmas. This year she would miss her children come the big day and would ache endlessly to be with them – even if they were visiting for an hour on the 25th. Every year throughout her childhood, her adoring pa would dress up as Santa. Sarah was a clever child so she always knew it was him. However, she would always desperately try to convince herself otherwise, both to retain the magic and to avoid hurting her father’s feelings. Christmas was always magical in her childhood home. Her parents, sisters and brothers always exchanged the best presents, tailored perfectly to the giftee. They were never a wealthy family, but their presents would always mean so much more than money could ever buy. They all knew each other inside and out and, more often than not, handing out presents was more enjoyable than receiving them for each and every one of them.

This year, Christmas certainly was going to be very different for the patients of Ward 4B. Everyone had their own traditions and outlooks, and they were very different people from different walks of life. But, without even knowing it yet, their lives would become so unexpectantly intertwine with each other’s that they would form bonds that will last a lifetime. 

CHAPTER 8 – JUSTIN THEN

The day before I left for college, Lizard came round to say goodbye with a small gift bag in tow. That is what she was like, sweet and caring. She was not going off to college, instead choosing to stay and live with her folks whilst saving up some money to travel from her job at the local ice cream parlour. This decision always baffled me. She wasn’t the most intelligent person - sounds arrogant, I know - but she wasn’t dumb either. She could’ve done college had she wanted to. Maybe if she had, things would have worked out differently. Life may have had other things in store for her.

No, instead she stayed in our boring, little suburb of New York and worked at the ice cream parlour where middle-aged men would leer at her rear end and little kids would chuck sprinkles and sauce everywhere. I could never, and still can’t, shake the feeling that it was such a waste. But she was happy and that was all I ever wished for her. I think she loved the social side of it – well, the nice customers who looked at her face and didn’t create a mess.

On my last day at home, she gifted me a small globe. I had become recently obsessed with learning about all the countries and was currently able to recall 148. An impressive repertoire but not complete.

“Here ya go, bud!” she exclaimed in her usual happy-go-lucky way. With that, she passed me the bag which contained what was to become my newfound most treasured belonging. I look into her eyes before I opened the gift and saw that glimmer of happiness and child-like excitement in them, and suddenly, I realised it. I loved her.

I think I always knew deep down. I didn’t just want her to be a friend but simultaneously couldn’t risk losing her. That must be why it took so many years for me to tell her how I really felt. But right there at that moment, the sun beating down, highlighting her gorgeous features, I couldn't deny it.

“Thanks,” I murmured, physically struggling to keep my feelings bottled up any longer. I loved her so much that it was becoming painful. My main worry was not when, where or even how to tell her. It was that telling her might wreck our friendship. If she didn’t feel the same way about me, then she would go out of her way to try and make me feel less embarrassed, which, ironically, would make me even more embarrassed.

We took up our usual place underneath the big oak tree in my garden. She began telling me all about the new gang of bikers that had graced the ice cream parlour with their presence. I couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying. My heart was beating faster than it should, and as always when I’m nervous, my palms just wouldn’t stop sweating. I couldn’t take it any longer.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, turning to face me.

“I love you,” I blurted out. I immediately felt myself turn red and knew I most probably looked like a radish - a fact which she later confirmed. 

“Well, that ain’t a problem, silly,” she replied. “I love you too.”

Before I knew it, her lips were pressed against mine. At that moment, I was the happiest I have ever been and, I genuinely believe, ever will be. The girl I had loved practically forever loved me back. Finally, life could fully begin.

She had gifted me a globe, but to me, the world was her. She was my everything. My best friend, now my girlfriend and I hoped one day my wife. It sounded cheesy, I know, and I can never say it aloud, but it was how I felt. She was the best thing that had happened to me.

CHAPTER 9 – HEIDI THEN

“Dan, for God's sake, behave!” I exclaimed. I was sitting on an uncomfortable chair, looking at my brother. I had just been informed by one of the guards that he had been in a fight with a guy called Giuseppe who had been in jail for gang related murder. Great. 

My brother was a quiet kid. He always had been but he sure had a temper. So, it came as no surprise that it took him three weeks to get in a fight with someone. The littlest thing could push Dan over the edge. And prison was a minefield of situations that could press his buttons.

Once, when we were kids, mom had cut his sandwich into two triangles. He didn't want it cut. The tantrum that followed was ridiculous. He pushed everything off the kitchen table, including my sandwich, before storming off into the sitting room and throwing mom’s favourite vase full of scarlet lilies to the floor. When the vase didn’t shatter, he stomped on it whilst mom wailed in the background, unable to process the disaster unfolding around her. Meanwhile, I picked my sandwich up off the floor and run to my room, ready to get lost in my music.

That was the biggest difference between me and my brother. Any sign of an upcoming argument and I would barricade myself in my room and hit top volume on my record player. Dan would fight back, placing himself between our parents, so they would stop screaming at each other, yelling at him instead. Mom would then break down crying and dad would shrug it off and storm out. The following morning, or even afternoon, he would return, and she would implore him to stay. He would and the cycle continued. 

“It ain’t that easy,” Dan retorted. “I can’t just ignore them.” They had figured out how to wind him up, and for as long as they did this, I knew his outbursts were inevitable. Dan was an unstoppable force when he got into one of his moods and I am sure that the other prisoners found this some sort of sick entertainment. 

I didn’t want Dan to become their mule but I knew that he was his own worst enemy. “Try, Dan,” I pleaded. “Hopefully, you’ll get your sentence reduced for good behaviour. But first, you have to behave,” I added.

“That’s alright for you to say," he mumbled, leaning forward. "You weren’t caught selling drugs to kids.” He had practically spat his words at me, the plastic shield between us acting as my protector. I should’ve known then that he was a lost cause.

"Yeah, that's because I wasn't stupid enough to sell drugs to kids!" I whispered angrily. "Or to anyone for that matter," I added quickly. He rolled his eyes and scoffed.

The thing was: you can't help someone who doesn't want to help. Drugs were Dan’s life and his addiction was hurtful. But I never thought he would go into dealing. I didn't think he would be stupid enough to do it.

Later that day, I crept in through the front door, eager to avoid mom and the incessant questions about Dan that I thought she would bombard me with. I quickly jogged up to my bedroom, eager to lock myself away in my private music-filled world.

As it happened, my worries were in vain. I braced myself for mom’s interrogation but it never came. At dinner, mom said nothing about Dan. Dad came up to my room when he finally returned from work. He stood in the doorframe, not used to being in my space.

"Don’t mention your brother to your mother. He’s dead to her," he told me. And, just like that, he left with no explanation, leaving the door open.

And that was it. What mom couldn’t deal with, she simply didn’t deal with.

CHAPTER 10 – WENDY THEN

I was now officially Wendy Ulyatt. It was comforting to know that I had started over but to say it was hard would be the biggest understatement of the year. I was eighteen, just a kid, but I had to find someplace to live now that I was legally an adult. Thankfully, I managed to apply for government financial help due to my situation and scraped together enough for the deposit. I still had to share the apartment with three other people but I didn't mind.

I barely met my roommates. I can’t even name them now. But, at the time, I was glad to be left to my own devices. I needed to focus on myself and get my life on track. Besides, I was pretty sure my roommates weren’t exactly good, law-abiding citizens. The place constantly smelled of weed and we had a lot of visitors coming and going every ten minutes.

At the time, I had to work three jobs just to keep a roof above my head. Even if that roof was leaking and falling apart. Sometimes, my share of the bills would be paid late and the electricity would shut down but I tried my best. I never broke the law to get by. I was proud of that and I still am.

The first job I managed to get was easy enough to come by in a bar on the corner of the street that I was living on. The hours were long and tiresome and the sleazy men made disgusting advances, which did not make it easier. But it was alright. The work was regular and, unlike the other girls, I was not afraid to walk home alone at three in the morning. The streets were my home for most of my childhood.

The money, even including tips, didn’t cut it, so I had to get a second job. It was not that I was afraid of hard work. Anything but. However, it was extremely exhausting balancing my hours. The next job I got was my favourite - waitressing at a local bakery. I liked it there. There was nothing not to like. Good tips, kind customers and I even made some friends there. In particular, a girl my age called Lily. We couldn’t have been more different – Lily had folks who loved her. She only worked this job for a bit of extra pocket money to add to her bank account. She later confided in me that she was worried that I would resent her for this but I could never resent someone for being happy. I was happy for her. She was a kind soul and we still meet up regularly. 

The job was ideal for me and came along at the right time. We used to sell the most delicious pastries with little crystallised sugary fruits on top. The most popular was the berry ones. Our window displays were always gorgeous, and they reminded me of the ones I have always admired around Christmas time. I loved being asked to make up the window in the morning. I would practically do a little dance when the manager selected Lily and me to do it together. We would chat and laugh at the little things and make the window look the best we could. We weren’t qualified in any official way but we sure did try. Lily had a brilliant eye for colour, knowing where to place things to best highlight them. We would usually opt to categorise the cakes into their own mini display whilst spreading the cookies evenly across the scene. The most interesting thing we ever did was arranging the scones in a union-jack fashion.

Customers were complementing our creative skills quite often. One sweet little old lady even told me, “Your window is truly stunning, my dear, very cleverly done!" I shouldn't have been as proud as I was when she told me that but I was.

From that day, the importance of appreciating the little things in life was cemented in my mind. A compliment and a kind word could go a long way and you never know how good it could make the receiver feel. To this day, I always aimed to hand out at least three compliments a day and I loved the smiles I would get in return.

Two jobs were enough to pay rent and bills but left me with nothing more so I found another one. I did it about three evenings a week, sometimes four, if they asked me to. I was cleaning for an office where businessmen floated around gazing at my ass and looking about eight inches south of my face. It wasn’t flattering, but it was work, and it paid quite well. Despite it being a hard time in my life, it was good. I was self-sufficient and in a safe enough environment. I was proud of what I was doing and something started to flicker inside me - a glimmer of something I could never afford before. I began to dream.

CHAPTER 11 – MICHAEL THEN

I had just finished college and only had a week before I was to start my graduate job at Henderson and Pollock. I was utterly bored and tired of being at home. Gina was fortunately only there for a week but this was a week too long. 

She loved to brag to dad all about how damn well she had done in college, and I couldn’t get a word in edgeways about my achievements. By this time, I’d given up trying to win the limelight. What was the point? Dad preferred Gina, that much was obvious, and she was the one he was proud of. I never really cared about making him proud, just beating Gina, but I never managed to do that either, not really.

Taking one of dad’s trucks, I drove to the nearest bar and got absolutely shitfaced. I had had far too many tequila shots - which, by the way, do not mix well with sambuca - and, by some miracle, hadn’t thrown up yet. Across the spinning room, I saw a stunning blonde waitress. Her curvy figure enchanted me. I had to have her. I was still stuck in my college ways, and I thought that I could get any girl I wanted by simply telling her that I wanted her.

I stayed until close, waiting to make my move when no one else was around.

“Hey, come here,” I called, trying to ignore the urge to vomit. She simply smiled in my direction and turned to walk back to the kitchen. "Hey! I fucking said come here!" I shouted. Looking terrified, she turned to who I could only assume was her manager. A greasy-haired buffoon of a man with his belly hanging out. As he marched towards me, fury spread across his face, and my stupid drunk inner voice told me I could take him. 

“Get outta here, you prick,” he ordered, grabbing me by both shoulders and guiding me outdoors. Like I didn't know where the door was. Christ, I was a graduate, I doubted this guy even went to middle school.

"Let go of me, you fat prick!" I barked. I tried to fight him but I was wrong before. I was too drunk to fight anyone, barely standing. As I was being pulled outside, I glanced back and saw the blonde girl hiding behind the bar. If she just did what she was told, we wouldn't have this problem.

The icy gush of air hit my face as the guy shoved me through the doors and into the parking lot. Then it all went black.

I woke up, I think, a few hours later. Fumbling for the keys to dad’s truck, I tried to stand and get home. But my head thumped and everything was blurry, slightly out of focus and discombobulating to my drunken, fuzzy mind. That was the most rotten I have ever felt in my entire life.

Before I knew it, I was throwing up in a dingy corner. I stumbled on the ground and it took me a couple of minutes to get up. I saw the sun rising out the corner of my eye. It was blinding and my head was splitting, especially the left side, which was now bleeding as I assumed I landed on it.

Somehow, I managed to find the truck and get home in one piece. Sneaking through the back porch door, I prayed no one would see me coming in. Thankfully, they didn’t. I crawled, quite literally, back into bed and woke up in a pool of my own vomit. At that time, Perfect Gina was probably sat downstairs with mom and dad, eating fresh fruit and granola, commenting on how lovely the weather was. Before I could get angry at her, I vomited again.

CHAPTER 12 – SARAH THEN

I met Oliver Trent at my local church. I had gone to pray for ma, who was suffering from ill-health. Three pews behind me sat a tall, dark and handsome stranger who was soon to become mine. My Oliver. Concerned about ma, I said amen and stood to leave but I stood up too quickly and immediately had to sit down again, my head spinning both with worry and light-headedness.

Footsteps approached along the stone floor, and Oliver sat by my side, speechless at first, allowing me to gather my thoughts. From that very day onwards, that is where he has always been – right by my side, come rain or shine.

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

“Yes, thank you,” I replied, rather unconvincingly because I was now bawling my eyes out. My strong, independent ma was deteriorating and I couldn’t cope with losing her. I knew that everyone dreaded losing their parents but I felt that as soon as ma went, I would be lost. She had always been the rock of the Jenkins family and without her, we would be incomplete. I couldn’t even bear the thought of losing my dear pa too. 

“I don’t think you are," Oliver commented, his voice smooth and quiet. "Can I get you some water or something?” he asked. I simply nodded and he trotted diligently to the water cooler out in the lobby.

I managed to stop actively crying when he came back, a polystyrene cup of ice-cold water in his hand.

"Now," he started again, "can you tell me what's going on?" His eyes were kind and honest, so I did just that. I told him everything. I told him my life story.

Oliver was my saving grace. He gave me his number and told me to call him if I needed anything at all, and I somehow knew he really meant it. That evening, the hospice called pa at home to come to say our goodbyes. Us five kids were spending every mealtime at our family home at this point in time, so pa was never alone. I remember it so vividly. We were sat at the kitchen table, laughing at some nonsense Jason had come out with and handing out bread rolls when pa came in from the hall. He stood in the doorway, utterly dumbstruck.

"We have to go see ma," he just said and we all knew.

Pa was a broken man. Jason and I had to practically carry him out the door and into the truck. He looked like one of those drunks you see come when a bar was being closed, walking arm in arm, stumbling on each other as they were all they got. Maybe pa was drunk on grief. 

As we five kids and pa sat around ma, I looked at pa out of the corner of my eye. He had always been my mentor, a strong pillar in my life but now he was a broken man. The foundations of the pillar were cracking and I wasn't sure if I could handle that on top of losing ma.

Ma passed just before the stroke of midnight and, still to this day, I hate it when the clock chimes out, bringing in a new day. She was only fifty-eight. No one spoke for hours after, even Jason, who was a constant chatterbox. I’ve never heard Jason so quiet and never seen a man so hollow as pa was. It was like someone had cut him open, scooped out his insides and stitched him back up – just a hollow masquerade of the man he used to be. 

After ma’s passing, us kids would take turns staying at pa’s, always ensuring at least one of us was there overnight with him. This usually fell to me, not that I ever minded. It was during these cold and depressing nights that pa and I would offload our thoughts to each other in the early hours of the morning. We would always aim to go to bed at a reasonable hour but somehow never would. Instead, we would sit at the kitchen table that the six of us once shared and nurse cups of cocoa with hot milk. Come sunrise, we would finally retire to bed, aiding each other upstairs. One evening, pa told me that he did it because he couldn't sleep without ma. I didn't tell him that I already knew that, simply nodding.

My parents well and truly doted on each other and, it later proved, that they couldn’t be apart. I phoned Oliver the first morning we had to endure without ma alive, desperate to talk to someone who wouldn’t break down in front of me.

On that first day, I couldn’t face talking to my family. It was still too raw for all of us and they would’ve just broken down in fits of tears. I knew it because I was doing the same thing, hiding in the hospital toilet so no one could hear my sobs. I needed someone to pour my heart out to. Normally, I would turn to pa but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not this time.

Oliver was so understanding. When I kept apologising for phoning, he would persistently reassure me that I was being silly for saying sorry and asked for my address. Grief-stricken, I was unable to put two and two together, so around fifteen minutes later, I was surprised to see a strange burnt orange truck out on our driveway. I soon realised who it was and, without a second thought, I just hopped in. We must’ve driven around for hours that day with no particular destination in mind. I got everything off my chest, as best as I ever could’ve done, whilst he just listened and interjected to fill the silences. From that day on, we were never apart. We became Oliver and Sarah, the inseparable couple.

Six months later, my already fragile world fell apart completely. Pa died and I became an orphan at a young age of twenty-four. He died of a broken heart. He and ma were always together in this world and now they will be in the next. And, true to his word, Oliver was by my side through it all. The hardest time of my life to date. My rock. Another six months and we were married. A small ceremony with my siblings and his folks. It was beautiful and we all went back to his folk’s place after for a delicious buffet that his mom was kind enough to organise. I only wished ma and pa had been there. But, in many ways, I feel they were.

Later that evening, I had stepped outside into the garden for a quick breather. I was thrilled to be a newly married woman but missing my parents sorely. I was not a superstitious person in the slightest but I believed that the Lord looked over us and he sure did that day. They say when a red robin visits you, it’s a loved one you’ve lost dropping by to say hello. As tears of contentment and loss filled my eyes, two blurry shapes fluttered a few yards from where I stood. Two robins. My ma and pa. They danced about, making me chuckle and looked me dead in the eye. I blinked my tears away and they flew off.

Another month down the line and I was pregnant with our first child of the three we were to be graced with. A bonny little, strawberry-shaped faced lad. We called him Mark – after my dear old pa. I had given birth in a hospital and, still ditsy from the drugs I had to have to relieve the pain, I held my new-born in my arms whilst Oliver pushed me in my wheelchair to the window. Outside was a large oak tree, basking in the sun, its branches spread in all directions.

Sure enough, there they were. Two robins sat right on the edge of a branch, about midway up the tree, looking up to me. Now, I don't believe birds can smile, but that day, those two robins sure did.

CHAPTER 13 – NOW

Time had flown on Ward 4B yet it also seemed to stand still for the five patients. It was now Christmas Eve. Despite the countless hours they had spent in each other’s company, the patients still barely knew each other. What they did know was only surface things like where they were from or their age.

Michael spent his time ignoring everyone and tutting when they spoke a decibel higher than he tolerated. Sarah and Heidi had formed an alliance of sorts, sharing stares and smiles more often than words. Justin and Wendy talked to each other from time to time but they never went into anything but trivial chat and comments about the weather.

The visiting hours had been extended around the Christmas period to allow families to spend valuable time with their ill loved ones. Justin smiled as his mother gave him a new sudoku magazine. At least he will have something to do. His father sat next to her, quiet as always.

“How are you doing, love? Feeling any better?” his mother probed. She was worried sick about her son, understandably, but her questions were tiring. He understood her worries and obliged, giving her watered-down versions of how he was doing. He was still throwing up most days, struggling to keep any food down but he kept this from her. It would only add to her stress and he didn't want to do that.

Meanwhile, tucked away in the corner, Michael tutted at the line of annoying questions Justin’s mother was blurting out. Thankfully, no one noticed. The patients had blocked out his rudeness, and the visitors were too absorbed in their family members to pay any attention to him.

In the adjacent bed, Heidi eavesdropped on the interactions between Justin and his parents. She didn't mean to be rude; she was simply bored. With no one by her bed, she wondered what it must be like to have folks that have enough time to worry about their kids. With her brother in prison, her dad probably out on some job and her mom an anxious mess, none of them really had the inclination to visit Heidi. She didn't expect any of them to come but she let herself hope a little bit. It was Christmas Eve after all.

In her brother’s defence, he couldn’t exactly leave prison unless she was dying, which she was very much not. Her mom would never be able to come into a hospital without having a meltdown. Jane Monroe couldn’t bear to be around frail, sick people or any sort of cross-contamination which may cause her to join them. Heidi was relieved that her mother decided not to visit. The last thing she needed was her mother having a panic attack because the bed wasn’t made properly while someone was dying in the ward next door.

Wendy’s close friend, Lily and her girlfriend, Izzy, sat at her side, filling her in on their latest news. Wendy loved to live vicariously through the experiences of others. For example, she never had a bike as a kid but watching the other children ride theirs made her just as happy. Lily and Izzy had just moved into a new apartment and had used some of their spare cash to redecorate the place.

“It sounds gorgeous!” exclaimed Wendy. “I can’t wait to see it.”

"And this one wanted to paint the kitchen green. Can you imagine that?" Izzy asked and Lily rolled her eyes at her girlfriend, a loving smile creeping on her lips. Wendy was there for Lily after she came out to her parents. She picked up all the phone calls at three in the morning, listening to her friend sob on the other side of the line. Luckily, her folks had come round to the idea and learnt to accept it. They loved their daughter and wanted her to be happy. If that meant being in a loving relationship with someone of the same sex, then so be it. They had even met Izzy and decided that she was a lovely girl.

“Izzy, how’s your new job going?" She had made a mental note earlier to not forget to ask about this new high-flying job in journalism that the blonde got earlier that month.

"Oh, it's brilliant!" Izzy swooned at the mention. "Not to be corny but it is exactly what I imagined it would be. It's a dream," she added, her eyes shining with excitement.

Michael lay opposite, gritting his teeth at the annoying blonde girl that sat by Wendy’s bed. He loathed successful women and hated them, especially when they talked about how successful they were. Snapping out of his anger-filled void, Michael turned his attention back to what his business associate, Bryce Vaughan, was blabbering on about. Something about figures and quarterlies. Many people would hate talking shop whilst laid up in a hospital bed but Bryce was here at Michael’s request. Michael’s life was his work and his work was his life. Propping himself up, Michael began to flick through the sheets of data in front of him.

Thankfully, for Michael anyway, Bryce had brought enough work to last for the next three days or so. This should tide Michael over whilst the other patients engaged in their ridiculous festivities. Michael looked up from the piece of paper he was holding and rolled his eyes at three little children sitting by Sarah's bed.             

Sarah couldn't stop smiling as her eldest, Mark, talked about all the fun things he did.

"And then we went to the park and then-"

"I saw a squirrel in the park, mom!" Piers interjected, wanting some attention.

"It wasn't a squirrel," Mark rolled his eyes at his brother. "It was very clearly a mouse."

"I want a mousey from Santa," Adam mumbled, whilst hugging his blanky. She looked at Oliver and they smiled at each other. God, she missed her children. Oliver constantly joked about how they had ended up with three boys, their little boys' squad but she secretly wished for a little girl. Her boys wouldn’t want their makeup done or their hair plaited. They wouldn’t want to go shopping with her to select dresses and have dinner out with a side of a girly heart-to-heart. Those three boys were her world but she always felt a little bit sad whenever she remembered she hadn’t been blessed with a girl.

Sarah’s boys were aged seven, six and four and were still just in that age range where they believed everything they were told and felt the world was a lovely place. They knew mommy was poorly, as daddy had explained that to them but not just how poorly she was or even why. They also knew that mommy wouldn’t be home for Christmas but Oliver promised them that they would visit at least for an hour. He then talked to them about Santa, which simply made them too excited to worry.

The room was full of visitors not but come Christmas Day, the patients would be stuck together, forced to celebrate the festivities in each other’s company. It's not like they had a choice anyway.

CHAPTER 14 – JUSTIN THEN

I was away at college during my first semester when I decided to travel home for the weekend. Homesick and dying to see Lizard, who was now my girlfriend, I was desperate for a short break from the pressures of my architectural studies. My parents had gifted me an angled drafting table when I had left for college and my back was beginning to suffer from leaning over it for long hours. It would be nice to sit upright and not stare at building plans for a little while, instead, looking in the beautiful eyes of a girl I loved.

I decided to keep the trip a secret – a surprise to my family and Lizard. I shoved my dirty laundry into a rucksack, boarded the subway and headed straight to Lizard’s house. I had something I needed to talk to Lizard about before I saw my folks. 

It felt like an eternity before I arrived at Lizard’s folk’s condo. Knocking on the door, I suddenly panicked, trying to remember if she told me that she was working this day. What if she was at the ice cream parlour? What if her dad opened the door? That would certainly kill the mood. My palms started to sweat as the door handle moved, and for a split second, I considered running away, but then I saw her, and everything was good again.

“Justin!” she cried out, surprise visible in her big eyes. “I missed you so much!" she said before embracing me in a big hug. A smile broke out across my face, and that familiar warm feeling returned to my stomach. I knew I had to get it over and done with, else I might never do it. My hands were practically dripping in sweat. I took a step back, breaking our hug and dropped on one knee.

I looked up at the love of my life and retrieved the cheap ring I had got from a pawn shop. “Will you marry me?”

Before I had a chance to worry that she would reject my proposal, she kissed me. “Yes!” she cried out. "Yes, yes, thousand times yes!" she mumbled between the kisses, and I laughed. We were engaged and she was to become Mrs Elizabeth ‘Lizard’ Anderson. We embraced and I never wanted to let go. I wish I never had.

My parents were shocked, to say the least, but I soon made it clear how serious I was about marrying Lizzie (as they knew her) and they accepted it. They were happy for us as soon as they got their heads around the fact that their only child was to be married off before he’d even graduated.

Not long after, I had to travel back to college and leave my new fiancé behind me. My folks, along with Lizard, waved me off from the subway platform. That journey back was amazing. I felt so grown up. I was engaged to the love of my life and I couldn’t wait to tell Scott about it. Sure, he’d be shocked, but I knew he would be happy for me.

Later that night, when I got back to my dorm, Lizard rang me to check up on me. I told her that I was safe and that I missed and loved her. To this day, I wish I had said more but I didn't know.

I didn't know that I would never hear her voice again.

CHAPTER 15 – HEIDI THEN

Dan was a free man again for the third time. I suspected it wouldn’t last long - it never did - and had long given up encouraging him to stay clean and out of trouble. Mom was still pretending she’d only ever given birth to me and dad had probably forgotten he’d even got out again. 

My only brother was forced into sofa surfing as mom wouldn’t let him cross her threshold. Staying in stinky bedsits with druggy lowlife wasn’t exactly the ideal environment for an ex-con but I knew I shouldn't try to reason with mom. I had been unfortunate enough to visit Dan at one of his many residents once and I was keen never to go back. I knew my mother was a neat freak but there’s a standard of living and where Dan was existing didn’t live up to it.

Desperate to at least try and help him, I went to dad’s office. Dad was rarely actually at his office, insisting that the best journalists have their offices out in the field.

“Hey?” asked a confused, fat, bald man peering through a small gap in the doorway.

“I’m Daniel’s daughter. Do you know where ‘bouts he is?” I asked, keen to sort this sorry mess out. Mike, as his nametag said, shrugged and went to shut the door. “Please!” I said, wedging my foot in between the door and the frame. “I need to find him, it’s about my brother!”. 

Shrugging again, Mike replied, “I dunno, try the skip, he might be covering the new recycling scheme.” Wow, that sounded like something super worth neglecting your family for, great job dad.

Thankfully, dad did turn out to be down at the skip, chattering away to some workers who looked as bored as the subject they were interviewed about was.

“Dad!” I shouted. He muttered something to a worker, who looked glad to escape his questions, and plodded over to me whilst lighting up a cigarette. 

“What’s up Heid?” he asked. No concern. Nothing. I never came to find him when he was on a job, so you’d think that he be worried something had happened to mom or Dan but that just wasn’t his style.

“I really think we need to house Dan again. He’s staying with layabouts, and it’s doing him no good to be in that envi-"

“Woah. Heidi, what have I said?" he interrupted me, the cigarette smoke escaping his lips. "Your mom can’t deal with Daniel and I can’t deal with her not dealing with it. He’s a liability. We can’t have that around your mother.”

“But he’s her son! Christ, he’s your son!” I implored, aching for him to reconsider. I knew he was right about Dan. Even if he did move back in with us, he would most probably re-offend again. But at least this way he would have a fighting chance at sorting himself out. No matter what, he was my brother. I felt I owed it to the podgy kid who used to hate his parents arguing and made himself the target to try to stop it. 

“End of discussion!” Dad replied, turning back towards the workmen who were eating their lunch. And that was that. Dad had made up his mind - my brother was no longer a part of this family, not to him and not to mom.

Dan had no one. No one but me.

CHAPTER 16 – WENDY THEN

Eventually, the time had come where I had just enough money to try and find a better place and hopefully a better job to go with it. I wouldn’t miss the bar and cleaning jobs but I would miss working with Lily at our cute little café. On my last day, she squeezed me tight and we promised to stay in touch. I cried a lot that day, a mix of tears of sadness and joy. That was the first place I felt like I truly belonged but I had to move on. I needed a better paying job with more hours and, more importantly, a job where I could make a real difference in other people's lives.

I wasn’t exactly qualified to do much but I had the motivation by the bucket load. I must’ve applied to hundreds of jobs until I found one that accepted me – and it was perfect. I was to be a junior advisor at the local housing association in Brooklyn. I probably only ever got my foot through the door because most people would’ve hated the job but I loved it. The feeling of finding a single mother and her kids a place to stay is incomparable to anything else.

With my newfound skills, I managed to easily make friends in the office with the staff and the customers. Some didn't refer to the people that come through our doors every morning as customers but I do. They are people and we are there to provide a service.

True to her word, Lily stayed in touch and, for that, I will be eternally grateful. I grew up alone but now I felt anything but. I finally had a network around me. People I could count on and even some that counted on me.

On my first day, Lily rocked up for my lunch hour with two vanilla lattes in one hand and a bag of two raspberry doughnuts from our café in the other. She was still working in the café but apparently it wasn’t the same without me. Bless her. I had never made a mark on anyone’s life but maybe now I was starting to.

We took a short walk to Central Park, just around the corner from my new office and settled down on the nearest bench. We chatted and I caught her up with everything my new job entailed. Out of the corner of my eye, I couldn’t help but notice the children playing nearby and watch their adoring moms wistfully.

I didn’t want to start a family, not at this point in time. I wasn’t ready both personally and financially, not to mention I was also single. But, in the future, I wanted a husband and kids. It would be nice to have twins – a boy and a girl. We would have a little house with a garden and a dog and I would love them and bake them cookies. We would be a real family. I would give my kids everything I never had.

All in good time. I don’t believe in miracles and destiny but I did believe in giving things time to blossom. I had come from nothing and now I was something. Okay, not much by most people's standards. I wasn’t a world leader or a top businesswoman but I worked a job where I got to help people. My life was finally on the up.

CHAPTER 17 – MICHAEL THEN

On my first day, I was embarrassed by just how worried I was. I had witnessed first-hand my father’s cut-throat executive moves and knew I had to be barbaric from the get-go to mark my stamp on the place. This wasn’t my concern. It was more that people might not respect me and I’d end up being laughed out of there. A fresh-faced graduate straight from college who still got the occasional pimple around his collar line. I didn't know if they would respect me.

The office was on the twentieth floor out of fifty and the lifts were in constant use. Sharing a lift with strangers whose breath stank of eggs and coffee was never pleasant, so if I boarded first, I always made sure to shut the doors quickly. A trip up to twenty alone was much more peaceful and easier on the nose.

The office was roughly a 50/50 split between men and women. Women I could deal with. Just make a misogynistic remark and they soon back off. They may well call you a pig behind your back but I couldn’t care less about that. The men were harder. Some enjoyed some sexist banter but that won’t earn you the power. Usually threatening their job stability worked.

Within a week, I had already fired someone and earned my place as the alpha male of the office. Everyone followed my orders down to the very last letter and, as long as that continued, we had no problems. But human errors happened and they irked me.

I had only been at the firm for about three months before my first promotion. A big achievement but, of course, daddy dearest was more interested in the latest court case Gina was working on. Some bloke bashed his wife’s skull in with a baseball bat. Apparently, she had ‘achieved so much for a young lady of her age’. Bloody great for her. By the age of twenty-three, I had fifty people working under me and the power in the office was mine. I earned that company thousands and my pay was good. But nothing I did could come close to Gina.

One year dad insisted I had to attend mum’s birthday soiree, which naturally I hated. They were always the same bloody set up whether it be a birthday, Christmas, New Year or just about anything else. The same cocktails would be served, the same people would attend and the conversations always followed the same three consistent themes – money, business and achievements.

At this particular dull fest, dad and I escalated ourselves into a blazing row over him preferring Gina to me. I had just about had my fill and I guess I just tippled over the edge. I didn’t want his approval - that wasn’t the problem - it was just Gina’s smugness that sickened me. Before anything got too heated, dad dragged me outside, wanting to avoid a scene in front of his associates.

“You always favoured her!” I screamed in his face. “Don’t you see that smug look on her fucking face?” 

“Shut up!” he bellowed, yanking me further and further away from the party inside. “Gina has achieved amazing things and, for that, I am proud of her. That's what fathers do!” he hissed in an angry whisper. He just didn’t get it.

“But what about me?” I asked, alcohol buzzing in my system, making me ask all the questions I always wanted to ask.

“What about you? Gina’s a high court judge, for fuck’s sake! You're a drunk angry boy who just threw a jealous fit for no reason!”

That was the final straw. I had to get away. I stormed off, rage consuming me, headed back to my apartment and packed up everything I owned. The next day at work, the first thing I did when I arrived was asking to be transferred to another Henderson and Pollock branch. They didn’t know I was dying to escape my godforsaken family and they didn't have to know. I knew a bloke who did a similar thing just a month prior, except he had gotten some secretary pregnant and paid her off to get an abortion and keep her mouth shut. He then promptly pissed off to the other side of the country.

I would’ve loved to tell the firm to shove it. After all, it was thanks to dad that I got the interview and therefore the job in the first place. But the money was good and I had become comfortable with the procedures. This meant that moving to a different branch in a different state was the next best thing. 

It turns out that there was a job opening in Portland that was equal in a hierarchy to my current job. It was like destiny – the same power and the other side of the US, away from my family. Perfect.

Within a month, I moved to my new place in Oregon and cut ties with my parents and sister completely. I changed my phone number, left them no forwarding address and deleted the email account my father occasionally contacted to tell me how amazing Gina was. 

It was liberating. There were bars near my new office and I soon became the top dog there too. I soon got another promotion and I was finally happy with the way my life was going. My work life was on the up, I could drop women as much as I wanted from the local bars and my family was all but dead to me. That was exactly the life I wanted to be living and I couldn't be happier.

CHAPTER 18 – SARAH THEN

Following the birth of our third boy, Adam, Oliver persuaded me that we should stop at three. I was gutted to be daughterless but tried to squash those feelings. I had three beautiful boys so why would I need another child?

Our lives soon become rhythmic, embedded in a fixed routine. There was little room for spontaneity. By that time, the kids were all at school and I was a stay-at-home mom with the typical suburban life I’d always yearned for. On Mondays, Oliver had his creative writing class, which he had always been passionate about, but life had always got in the way meaning he never managed to start a career in this field. Besides, the jobs were so poorly paid that we could never have raised a family on such a salary. On Wednesdays, I had my yoga. Then Thursdays were for Piers’ basketball after school and Adam had his karate class. The weekends were always jam-packed too. Saturdays would always end up a write-off, a pledge of endlessly driving back and forth with rowdy kids squabbling and spraying water at each other.

Sundays were always booked-up too. Oliver was keen that we always had to go to church on Sundays and then take a long walk in the park. Don’t get me wrong, occasionally, I loved this. I was keen to keep my faith strong and attend church when I could and I loved walking with the kids outdoors so that they could burn off some of their built-up energy. But not every week.

I hated to admit it but I needed a break. A weekend off, just for me. Wine, chocolate and a cheesy rom com in a sauna. A grand time of doing nothing. I would just lie on a freshly made bed with new sheets that had no crayon marks all over them and read book after book.

Whenever I start a book, I’ll get about a chapter in and then the boys start fighting so I have to go and break it up. Either that or someone scraps their knee and screams blue murder. My first aid kit is in constant use in the Trent household.

I loved my boys but I was losing sight of myself. I sometimes worried that Oliver and I rushed into starting a family. Within a year, we had our first child. Most couples haven’t even started to live together by that point. But there we were. Stuck in this life we were happy in but... but was it enough?

CHAPTER 19 - NOW

“Happy Christmas!” declared Wendy as the breakfast trolley came around. Everyone except Michael replied in harmony. Even the nurse joined, her voice happy even though she could have been at home right now, spending the morning with her family.

December was always bitterly cold in New York City and, sure enough, a thick layer of snow covered everything as far as the eye could see. The swings in the play area outside balanced a neatly constructed rectangle of snow.

As people bustled past the hospital, their breath was visible, puffs of cold exhaling from their bodies. Many carried presents, heading to visit their families for the day and some even sported their new gifts already - new bikes, clothes and watches shining on their wrists.

In the meantime, the patients of Ward 4B lounged around, eating breakfast and sipping lukewarm teas and coffees, which they were now allowed. Many of them had suffered from caffeine withdrawal and the subsequent headaches that ensued when they were hospitalised but now their medicines allowed them to have an occasional cup. 

A guy dressed as Santa waltzed his way down the corridor outside their ward, lugging a sack of presents for the children that were to spend Christmas in hospital. It was a sweet gesture but not quite the same as sitting at home around the Christmas tree with their families, excited to see if Santa visited them overnight.

“I’m so glad I get to see my kids later today,” exclaimed Sarah to no one in particular.

“I bet,” replied Wendy. “How old are your boys?” she asked.

“Mark’s seven, Piers six and Adam is five,” Sarah said, a gleeful look in her eyes. "They are a handful but I love them to bits."

“Hard work!” Heidi mumbled.

The day went by without any arguments or bickering. Even Michael behaved. Christmas dinner was served at midday and everyone stood in a circle, crossing arms to pull crackers. Michael was less than obliging but Sarah soon put him in his place and - bored of his data sheets - he reluctantly joined in. 

Dinner contained a lukewarm serving of grey turkey, with a few boiled potatoes, some over-boiled and now mushy peas, a few more questionable vegetables and gravy that tasted more like warm water. Afterwards, they split a yule log that Wendy’s friend Lily had brought in for them all, which they all enjoyed immensely. 

“We should play a game,” Justin declared after guzzling down the last of his cake. Michael groaned but the others clapped their hands in joy and chanted out loud the different games they could set up.

They decided on ten questions, where they got to ask the person to the right of the ten questions about themselves. This way they could both pass the time and improve what they knew about each other.

During this game, many revelations were made. Justin, in Bed 1, had gone first and asked Heidi tame questions. But, when it came to Heidi asking Wendy questions, things got deeper. They discovered that Wendy had grown up on the streets, had never had a boyfriend and used to be able to complete a 5K run in under twenty-five minutes. Michael answered his questions, obliging, but didn’t really take in everyone else’s answers. Wendy, always in fear of upsetting someone, also asked pretty mild questions and they learnt the basics about Michael. He was from the rich part of Brooklyn and had an estranged twin sister. He also liked tequila, which was something new.

Michael then had to generate some questions for Sarah. She had already told them all of her husband and three sons, so he couldn’t ask that. They found out that she was from Connecticut, grew up on a ranch before her family moved to the city and used to have a dog called Rover. This prompted a discussion about childhood pets. 

Sarah then asked Justin questions mainly relating to his college degree. How he got in, how he did and how he found it. She didn’t reveal to everyone else her reasoning but she had chosen college-related questions because she never went to college herself. As her boys grew up, at least one of them was likely to go off to college and she didn’t want to be dumb on how it all worked.

Across the course of the afternoon and into the early evening, the five patients learnt some things about each other. It felt like they weren’t just strangers anymore but they were far from being friends.

Come evening, they all raised their hospital plastic water bottles into the air, in a mock cheer. “To Ward 4B!” Heidi declared.

“To Ward 4B!” they all chanted.

CHAPTER 20 – JUSTIN THEN

The day after I returned to my dorm after getting engaged to Lizard, I received the most heart-breaking news and my life turned upside down. No, not just upside down. Someone had flipped my life around, shaken it vigorously and then scooped out its insides. 

At 11:13am, I received a phone call from my mom. Lizard had been hit by a cab whilst crossing the road and she had died instantly. She had been on her way to look at wedding dresses and was meeting her mom there. When she had been ten minutes late, her mom – thinking this extremely unusual of her timely daughter – tried to ring Lizard but couldn’t get through. So, then she retraced the route Lizard would walk to get there. An ambulance blasted its way past her as she turned the corner. A crowd had formed around a yellow cab.

They said that the cab had blood splattered across the bonnet but I couldn't think about that for too long. I hated that day and everything about it. I hated that driver. The speed he was going, everything about him. If I ever met the guy, I’d kill him in cold blood without even thinking about it. He took away from me everything that mattered... No. He took the only thing that mattered.

And now my Lizard was gone. She was and always will be the love of my life, except now I couldn't marry her. Buy a house with her. Have kids with her. Nothing.

I spiralled into a deep depression. Nothing seemed to ease the pain, it was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Loss was a monster that grew inside you, eating you up slowly until there was nothing left. I would spend hours locked away in my room, the curtains shut and the light off. My limbs would turn to lead and I wouldn’t be able to move my body – not even an inch. Without her, I fell out of love with life. I even stopped reading and learning facts, something I have always been obsessively in love with. It didn't matter if she wasn't here.

When I was home, my mom would knock on my door, come in, open the curtains and turn on the light. Yet nothing would let the light into my mind. I was consumed by dark thoughts and the prospect of my life without Lizard. I was never suicidal but I’m pretty sure I came close.

The only reason I even stayed at college and worked as hard as my depression allowed was because of Lizard. She knew what this degree meant to me. Unable to compose the words to explain everything to Scott, I wrote it all down and slipped it under his door. Of course, my family knew but other than that, I kept it a private problem that I didn’t want to talk about to others.

That girl with the constant grin on her face was gone. She was stuck in time. I got older but she stayed forever young. I will reach my eighties, maybe even nineties. Lizard will always remain young, barely twenty, a bright smile on her face. And she will always remain in my heart.

My graduation came and went and I did well in my degree. The thought of Lizard being proud of me was my main driving force. I always thought she’d be in the crowd, clapping alongside my parents as I collected my certificate. I swear I saw her that day. In the distance, she smiled in that old cheeky way she always did. Someone shoved past me in the line as we waited to go up on stage for certificate collection and, just like that, she was gone again.

People said you’ll get over it. That you’re young. You’ll find someone else. But they didn’t know Lizard. And if they truly believe those things, then they didn't know me either.

I had yet to secure a graduate job and was desperate for a break. The world was a huge and scary place and I never thought I’d be facing it alone. I knew what Lizard would say. Take a break. Go and see the world. So that is what I decided to do.

CHAPTER 21 – HEIDI THEN

Dan was back in prison again and I barely saw mom and dad anymore, especially dad. At the time, I had my own apartment that I managed to keep without the need for a roommate. I liked my own space but the nights were long. I had a dead-end job in marketing which I didn’t hate or love but the pay was good, so I stayed.

Out of pure guilt, I forced myself to visit mom on either Saturday or Sunday each week. I was now accustomed to Dan’s new jail and visited him monthly. I hated both visits but, as I said, guilt drove me into following through with both of them. They were my family, even if they never felt like it. 

Whenever I arrived at my childhood home, my shoes felt glued to the ground outside the front door. I would stand, lost, gazing at the door, bringing myself to knock. The sooner I knock on the door, the sooner I go in, the sooner I get the visit done, the sooner I leave. The same mantra every time. 

The visits were mentally exhausting. Mom was never easy to be around and time had done nothing to heal this. Sometimes, as a kid, I would blame myself for her mannerisms. Now, I came to realise it was just the way she was built. To my surprise, I think for the only time in my life, dad opened the door.

“Hi Heid,” he said.

“Um, Hi Dad,” I replied, wondering what on Earth was going on and peering over his shoulder. “Where’s mom?” No point beating around the bush. He stayed quiet, and I noticed a little stubble on his face. He was always cleanly shaven. Everything about this felt odd and I didn't like it.

“Come in,” dad said, ushering me inside. The moment I stepped inside, I knew something was off. There were shoes in the living room. A glass on the table without a coaster. A pillow on the floor. It was not an immaculate sitting room that mom spent hours cleaning every day.

“Your Mom’s not well,” he started.

“Well, no shit,” I replied. Dad raised a hand to tell me to stay silent but I knew better than to interrupt again.

“I took my fill. My load if you will. I tried to ask her for a separation.” An involuntary gasp left my mouth. Dad sunk into himself, cradling his head in his hands. “She lost it. Had one of her breakdowns. The worst I have ever seen.”

Looking back on it all now, this was probably destined to happen one day. Dad couldn’t take mom’s ways anymore and I couldn’t really blame him. I knew how she could be. But still – in sickness and in health, dad.

“She’s in hospital, honey. They had her evaluated and they are-” he stopped, shaking his head slowly.

“They’re what, dad?” I probed.

“They might put her in a mental institution.”

CHAPTER 22 – WENDY THEN

One day, Lily came to meet me as I left work, a latte and doughnut in hand.

“Hey girl,” she said, appearing from thin air at my desk. I snapped my head up in surprise – classic Lily, never one to call before she comes to see you but that’s just the way she was.

“Oh, hey, Lil!” I replied, grinning at her. She looked glum. “What’s up?”

“Are you finished for the day?” she asked. I checked my little sunflower clock on my desk. It was 4:56pm and I wasn’t meant to clock off until 5pm.

“Can you gimme five minutes?” She nodded and took a seat in reception, which was now deserted as everyone that could be seen today had been.

As we left the office, I asked again, “What’s up, Lil? Is it you and Izzy?”

"Well, yeah," she said, and my heart skipped a beat. She must've seen it on my face because she laughed. “No, no, nothing like that, you idiot,” she said while shaking her head. We stopped on the sidewalk just outside Central Park.

"So, what is then?" I asked, taking a sip of my latte.

“We’re moving," she mumbled so quickly that I almost missed it. It took me a couple of seconds for the information to click into my mind and I smiled.

"Oh my god, that's amazing," I said. "Why are you looking like you were about to tell you that your dog died then?"

“It's just..." she shook her head. "The place is in New Jersey. I'm moving to New Jersey,” she repeated as if she couldn't believe in it.

“That’s great!” I replied and I genuinely meant it. I knew how excited she was to get a place with Izzy, and I was elated they had found somewhere they liked.

“Really? You don't think it's too far? I mean, it’s a whole other state,” she replied, looking at me suspiciously.

“Not at all! I can travel to see you! And it's not that far. And even if it was, you have to do what’s best for you and Izzy!”

"Oh, thank God," she said and pulled me into a hug. "We just wanted a little change and Izzy said, 'Hey, what if we check out New Jersey', and I never thought we would actually find anything but the place is so pretty, Wendy. It's so nice and I couldn't not pick it just because it was in New Jersey and, oh my god, did I mention it has this cute little garden?" And just like that, the worry disappeared and she talked about the place as we walked down the streets of New York, excitement glimmering in her eyes. “You absolutely have to come and see it!” she added and I truly couldn’t wait.

CHAPTER 23 – MICHAEL THEN

It was a standard hungover Monday morning. My head was spinning and the blonde girl was still in my bed. I needed to kick her because I had to leave for work soon. After ushering the half-dressed woman out of the door, I quickly got dressed, grabbed my briefcase and headed to the coffee shop around the corner.

Turning the corner to my office, a latte in hand, I saw a face I haven’t seen for a long while. Squinting in the sun, my head spinning with alcohol-induced sex memories, I realised who it was. Gina.

Typical Gina. She couldn’t just call like a normal person. Oh no, she’d have to bloody fly out here. Dramatic bitch. But then I guess I had changed my phone number. 

“Hello,” she said, that smug look still painted on her ugly face. Her glasses balancing on the end of her nose, she still looked down at me despite me being six foot two inches and her just five foot seven. 

“What do you want?” I barked, my hand tightening around my briefcase. When my initial anger subsided, I loosened my grip a little, not wanting to ruin it.

“Typical Michael,” she tutted. “Just wanted to tell you the news. Dad’s dead.” I can’t say I was upset. But I wasn’t happy either. I was... completely impartial to the news that my father had died.

“Oh, that sucks," I mumbled and looked around the busy street. "How did you find me?” I asked. The moment I asked this question, something inside her snapped.

“How is that important, you prick?!" she yelled. "Dad is dead and you want to know how I found you?! How about you ask mom how she found dad, slumped over his desk, whisky still in his hand, paper stuck to his chin. Does this mean nothing to you? Do you really feel nothing, you pathetic little boy? Because what? Because he had a favourite when we were kids and it wasn't you? Grow up, Michael," she spat the words in my direction.

I didn't tell her that but I couldn’t care less how he died. A small part of me felt sorry for my mother but that soon diminished when I remembered all the times she could’ve stood up for me when dad favoured Gina and chose to remain quiet.

“Just tell me how you found me,” I replied, annoyed that she was taking so much of my time. She looked shocked, just for a split second, before shaking her head slowly.

"Wow, you really are something," she sighed. “You still work for the same company, you idiot. I just went to your old office, asked Mr Mendoza where you went, flashed a bit of cleavage and then came out here,” she answered. Shit. Why didn’t I think of that? Of course – it would be so easy. Gina always knew how to piss me off and here she was doing it again – appearing in my new life just to make me suffer.

"Anything else? I don't want to be late," I told her, making sure that she knew that she was interrupting my life. She scoffed.

“If you want your inheritance, come back home next Tuesday at 1pm,” she simply said before turning on her heels and storming off.

Damn it. I didn’t think of that. Yes, I wanted the inheritance, the bastard owed it to me. And so, I had no choice but to travel home.

CHAPTER 24 – SARAH THEN

I rarely heard from Jason, my eldest brother, since we had both grown older. Yet when we met up on the major holidays, it was like we were never apart. We would simply pick up where we left off – the old in-jokes, the funny stories from our childhood, catching up on our lives. It was always refreshing to see him.

Out of the blue, before church one Sunday, I got a call from Jason and I was thrilled. Growing up, as much as I shouldn’t say it, Jason was my favourite sibling. In fact, I think he was everyone’s favourite sibling but we would never tell each other that. Jason was always the lovable goofball of the Jenkins clan. The one that everyone loved at school. He managed to deter any bullies that came our way when we moved to the city and the cool kids soon left the other four of us alone. Everyone loved Jason and Jason loved everyone – he took after pa in that sense. 

“Hey, how ya doin’, bud?” I said, grinning down the phone line.                            

“Hey, sis,” he replied, monotone and glum. That wasn’t like Jason.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, immediately concerned that my larger-than-life brother sounded to be struggling. 

“My divorce has gone through and it just feels... weird, ya know?”

Jason had been distraught when he realised his marriage to Amy was dead in the water. They had got themselves stuck in a rut that neither of them wanted to be in. It was a matter of time before one of them called it quits. They both knew it was over and, as it later transpired, Amy had mentally left the relationship behind months before they talked about separating. Jason had to find out from his friends that she had cheated on him multiple times. 'We were together but not really,' she would say to anyone who questioned her. Naturally, this angered me – she deceived him and cheating is wrong no matter what. He was my big brother and I was heartbroken for him. I tried to push Jason, plead with him even, to state infidelity for the grounds of divorce. It was what Amy deserved. But my kind-hearted brother just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

So now there he was - divorced and childless. I always thought this was a shame – Jason would’ve made a brilliant dad. He told me that his wife didn’t want children and he had obliged to make her happy. I guess it turned out for the better - at least a kid wasn't forced to take sides in this messy situation.

“We both knew it was over,” he had said to me at the time when I went on a rant about infidelity.

“That’s no excuse!” I retorted. I wanted to go on and quote the Lord but managed to stop myself just in time. Jason had given up on Christianity a long time ago, around the time pa died, so this wouldn’t help me plead my case. In fact, nothing I tried worked with Jason. He simply wouldn’t betray Amy – despite the fact she betrayed him.

“Oh, Jason," I mumbled, trying to find the right words. "At least you can move on now,” I said, desperate to add a sense of optimism to the situation.

He remained silent and then said, “Come stay with me.”

“Sorry?” I asked.

“Come stay with me. I mean it, come up today, stay for a week or two. We could explore New York – pretend we’re tourists.”

“Jason, I can’t leave the kids.”

“Yes, you can. Oliver will take care of them. He can drop them off at his mom’s when he works. Come on, you deserve a break and I really don't want to be alone right now.”

How could I say no to that?

CHAPTER 25 – NOW

One evening between Christmas Day and New Year’s Eve, Michael stirred in the night and, through blurry eyes, made out the shape of Sarah wrapping her dressing gown around her and standing up, walking in the direction of the door. Interesting. Eager to know what she was up to, he quickly followed her. 

Sarah marched up the corridor, as though she knew what she was doing and where she was going. She strode with purpose whilst Michael crept behind her, hiding in the shadows. She took a sharp left, as did Michael, before quickly spinning to face him.

“Why are you following me?” Sarah asked.

“Um, where are you going?” Michael retorted, now no longer bending over in the dark.

“No, you first, I wasn't being a creep who follows innocent people in the dark. You could’ve just asked me where I went but you chose to do this. You are the one who has to explain yourself, not me,” Sarah answered. Michael had met his match.              

“I-, um, I-,” Michael tripped over his words.

“Never mind," she said, rolling her eyes. "I’m just going to the vending machine. Come with me, I’ll get you something. Just don't be a creep, okay?” she said, grinning at Michael, who looked like a little boy caught in the act.

“So, why are you and your sister estranged?” Sarah asked as they walked down the corridor. Just like that. Shocked at her forwardness, Michael felt a sudden wave of emotion wash over him. He felt like he was drowning. Why... why were they estranged? Why couldn’t he and Gina just get along? At the end of the school day, other siblings would run up to each other, chattering ten to the dozen about their days and joking about with each other. Meanwhile, Michael and Gina were still in their physical fighting phase and it was just a case of who would throw the first punch. 

They always hated each other but why? Well, his dad’s preference for Gina never helped but maybe they could’ve formed an alliance or something.

Now stood at the vending machine, as Sarah punched in the code for her food, Michael felt himself begin to well up. A tear fell down his cheek.

"Okay, what do you want?" Sarah asked and turned around, looking right at his glossy eyes. Her smile faded. "Michael? Are you okay?"

Suddenly, he was bawling like a baby and couldn’t stop it. He hadn't cried in years, at least not sober, and now here he was, humiliating himself in front of this woman. The thought only made him sadder and Sarah grabbed his arm and led him to the nearby bench. She didn't say anything, simply letting his emotions flow. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, he started talking.

It seemed like hours they sat there whilst Michael poured his heart out to Sarah about the various problems he suffered in his childhood. She listened and consoled him – something no one had ever done for him before. Still utterly embarrassed by the whole situation, Michael tried to pull himself together but found himself sinking deeper into her warm embrace. 

“Everything happens for a reason,” Sarah whispered in his ear. She patted his shoulder and looked him deep in the eyes. “However, I must say that a toxic childhood you had shouldn’t define who you are as a person.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, trying to blink away the tears that started to gather in his eyes once more.

“I mean, look at Wendy. She had the worst childhood one could imagine but she decided to work through it and become a better person despite it. And now she is honestly one of the nicest people I have ever met,” she said, shaking her head slightly before meeting his eyes once more. “Michael, you lived your life thriving on hatred for your sister and parents but have you ever tried... living for yourself?” Michael could feel a single tear of realisation fall down his cheek. No. He didn’t. He never even thought of what he wanted if it wasn’t being the best. But did he really care for winning? Or was it simply something he learned to care about. Something rotten that ruined him slowly from within.

“I never,” he mumbled, sniffling. “I never really thought about it this way.”

“You are out of the toxic setting now. It can only get better.” Michael knew that she was right.

“This is so embarrassing,” he muttered to himself. 

“Oh, not at all," she said, shaking her head. "We’re all human. You’ve gotta have a cry sometimes. Lord knows I do,” she added. This was foreign to Michael but he did have to admit that he felt like a weight had been taken off his shoulders.

That night they became more than just strangers sharing a ward. They became friends.

A couple of days later, when they were the only awake patients, Sarah confided in Michael about how hard she had taken the loss of her parents. They soon forged a nice little friendship, based on a mutual understanding that their problems were not to be divulged to anyone outside their little duo. In the first days of being stuck together, Sarah had thought Michael a pompous git whilst he considered her a busybody soccer mom. But, ever since that night by the vending machine, over bags of Maltesers and Skittles, they became pals.              

Their rapport continued to thrive, which took him by surprise. Michael had never had any friendships with females, always insisting that their company bored him. But now, he relished having some time to open up to – something he had never really done before. He and Sarah were always the last two awake at night. They used those times to have deep and personal conversations, usually snacking on something from a vending machine.

The old Michael wouldn’t recognise himself now. He discussed things with Sarah he had never wished to voice to anyone before, except in that explosive row that he had the last time he saw his father all those years ago. When he spoke to his newfound friend, he could let his feelings pour out like an unstoppable dam. He would uncover raw emotions and things that had hurt him that he had locked away for such a long time. In return, he would listen to tales of how she had needed to escape her family but felt terrible guilt for it.

They tried to advise each other as best they could and their nightly chats became a sort of counselling for them both. They also developed in-jokes that only the two of them understood.

Ever since the festive period, and in particular Christmas Day, all five of the patients had continued to get to know each other better, sharing banter, stories and regales of their tales pre-hospital admission. Even Michael started to enjoy the company of the group as a whole, much to their amazement. He had never found a group of people that were so laid back and not in the slightest judgemental towards him. He and Justin would share tales of their time in college, whilst Wendy would listen in, fascinated by their experiences.

Sarah had established herself as quite the mother figure to everyone but Michael. He was too similar to her in age, and besides, he wasn’t the sort of guy that would appreciate being mothered. Sarah loved reclaiming her maternal role and adored her title as ‘mom of the group’. In particular, Sarah took Justin under her wing, feeling as though his mother would appreciate it and she would want someone to do it to one of her sons.

Heidi had also warmed up to Justin, thinking him sweet, kind and innocent.

Wendy was over the moon that they were all getting along. She felt this reinforced her faith in humanity and made her feel fuzzy inside.

Justin loved how Sarah looked out for them all and his friendships with Wendy, Heidi and even Michael were growing.

The five patients would often pass the time by playing any games they knew that were hospital friendly. Wink murder was a particular favourite for them all and rounds of consequences were conducted regularly. 

They had become good friends in such a short space of time. They yet didn’t realise how long their friendships would last.

PART 2

The Accident

CHAPTER 26 – JUSTIN

There I was about to take the leap and travel the world – well, at least as best I could with my budget. I had managed to save up a little over the years and my folks had gifted me some money to fund my journey. They said they saved it for my wedding. I tried not to tear up when they handed it to me.

The day I packed my rucksack, I just knew that I couldn’t bear to leave behind the little globe that Lizard had gifted me. With the globe safety tucked into my luggage, I boarded the bus, which I would ride straight out of state into New Jersey, where I would catch a greyhound bus.

I decided it made sense to travel the US first and was shocked when I realised, I had only visited four out of fifty states. With New Jersey right next to my home state of New York, it made sense to start there. From there, I would probably go onto Pennsylvania and then Ohio. The world was my oyster.

I knew that if I still had my Lizard, she would be right at my side, travelling with me. It filled me with grief whenever I remembered she was no longer around. I hated admitting it but I actually couldn’t think about her too much or I would put myself at risk of spiralling back into my depressive state. 

The irony was not lost on me that I was travelling ‘outta state’ and even the tiniest insignificant thing would remind me of her. If I saw someone take the tomatoes out of their burger, my mind went to her. If I saw someone chewing their hair whilst mid-conversation, my mind went to her. Anything and everything reminded me of her, so whenever my mind was free to roam, for my own sanity, I had to force myself to think of something else. 

Now I had something to focus on that wasn’t academic. After the USA, I wanted to hit Europe and see what that had to offer. The UK, Spain and France were top of my list but anywhere would be great. My folks asked me when I’d be back. The simple answer was… I didn’t know.

Catching the bus was the very first step of my adventure. The sun was beating down as I sat by the bus stop, waiting for the next stage of my life to begin. My mom, forever worrying about me as moms do, had packed about a gallon of sunscreen, making me promise to use it throughout the day. Typical mom. There I was to travel around the world and her worry was my catching sunburn.

“I’m going outta state, Lizard,” I whispered to myself under my breath. As the bus pulled up, I took a deep breath and let the rest of my life begin.

CHAPTER 27 – HEIDI

I was still in shock as I boarded the bus to visit mom at the mental facility that she was now staying at in New Jersey. I guess I had seen it coming for years but I still couldn’t wrap my head around just how bad this breakdown had been. Mom was co-dependent on dad so the thought of separating broke her. Her mental state has never been stable and this just tipped her over the edge.

With dad refusing to tell Dan, it was left to me to tell him. I guess they were both locked up now. How different can a cheap rehab be from a prison?

Dan hadn’t been particularly bothered by the news. No doubt he also would’ve seen the situation coming but I expected a little more surprise. Dan always seemed nonchalant during my visits, like he wasn’t really taking in anything I told him. I always wondered if he found a way to get drugs in jail. I was hoping it was just withdrawal, but as his lazy eyes stared at me, I wasn't so sure anymore.

As I sat on the bus, I wondered if they gave any medication to mom. Will she be able to speak to me, or will she be the reflection of her son, looking at me with a blank, empty stare. 'Whatever happens, it can't get worse,’ I told myself.

How stupid of me to think that.

CHAPTER 28 – WENDY

I was delighted that Lily and Izzy had invited me to go and see their new place. I waited to board the bus that would take me straight out of town and into New Jersey. As I sat waiting for the bus to arrive, I imagined how my friends would decorate their new home. Lily loved traditional décor – I knew that from my time working with her. In an ideal world, I reckoned she would try and achieve a regal feel. I couldn't wait to see how she would go about doing it.

Both Lily’s and Izzy’s parents had given them some money to help them with starting out in their first home. I had met them after they had been shopping just the week before and we sat in Central Park whilst they showed me the equipment, plates and cutlery they had picked out. They had gone for a red theme.

I boarded the bus and sat behind a girl who was humming away to herself. As I wondered what song she has stuck in her head, the door closed and the bus started moving.

CHAPTER 29 – MICHAEL

Pissed off and running late, I decided that catching a bus would be the quickest way to reach the will reading. God knows why but the silly bugger had decided to use a solicitor out of state so I had to travel out to their office in New Jersey.

Gina would no doubt get more than me and my mother would obviously get the most. I was dreading seeing them both, wishing I could just be invisible. Or, better still, not on a bloody bus in New York when I could be back in my apartment in Portland sharing the evening with some girl and getting drunk.

Since dad’s death, it got me thinking and I couldn’t really recall a happy memory with him in it. He was never there and when he was he and Gina would buddy up and exclude me. 

One memory does stick out, though. After one of these particular excruciating events, I managed to slip away for a quick cigarette, which I was now becoming accustomed to doing behind my parents’ backs. I would have only been about fifteen. Mom and dad both smoked but all hell would break loose if they found out I was doing it too.

I was stressed about an upcoming test and smoking always helped me take my mind out of it. So, there I was, in my garden, hiding behind a tree, smoke slowly escaping my lips.

"What do you think you're doing?" I heard my father's voice. I threw the half-smoked cigarette on the ground, attempting to cover up my behaviour but it was too late. He saw, and even if he didn't, he was close enough to smell it.

"Sir, I-" I started, standing up, but he interrupted me.

"You wasted a perfectly good cigarette is what you did," he said and I blinked in confusion.

"Sorry, sir, I-"

"We don't waste things in this house. That's just not what we do," he said and turned around to leave but then he stopped and my heart skipped a beat. 'Here it comes,' I thought. He was going to tell me off and Gina will look so smug when she finds out and-

Suddenly, a new cigarette fell on the ground, hitting my left sneaker. I looked up but dad has already turned away.

"Don't tell your mother you smoke, she won't be happy," he said and, just like that, he was gone. To this day, I couldn't understand why he didn't tell mom or Gina, why he didn't humiliate me like he always did. I kept that cigarette and smoked it the day I moved out to Portland, letting the only semi-good memory of my dad burn away under my fingertips.

So, there I was now. Standing in the boiling heat in my three-piece suit, with the jacket draped over my left arm, holding my briefcase with my right. I remember willing the bus to hurry up so I could get this whole ordeal over and done with. I hated public transport and hated my father. Yet here I was, unable to escape either. 

CHAPTER 30 - SARAH

The day had come for me to catch the bus out to New Jersey to Jason’s condo. I was so excited about our little break together. We both deserved it so much and, although seeing the state we had lived in sounded odd, we both realised we hadn’t actually done many of the classic tourist things.

I was sad to leave my boys, hugging them extra tightly that morning. I don’t think they fully understood why I was leaving but they did know where I was going and what I would be doing – and that it would all be with Uncle Jason. I promised them that when they were bigger, I would take them on the same trip and we would see everything New York had to offer. I also promised myself that one day I would return to Connecticut to show them the old Jenkins’ ranch.

As I sat waiting for the bus to pull up, something dreadful dawned on me. I wasn’t sad to not see Oliver. I couldn't even imagine longing for him like I always had done. For once in my life, since I lost my ma, I didn’t want him by my side. I loved him but leaving him behind felt right. The very thought frightened and sickened me all at once. 

Oliver had always felt like my rock, by my side through everything life had thrown at us. An amazing husband and father, he was perfect in every sense. But the magic had died and leaving him behind made me realise this. I was no longer in love with him. He just felt like a boulder, weighing me down and if I didn't escape soon, I would be crushed.

CHAPTER 31

The bus heading towards New Jersey was empty as it pulled out of the bus depot and started its route. The driver, Sam Rivers, was a sixty-year-old man who was enormously looking forward to his retirement. His daughter Jenny had just given birth to her second child and he was thrilled to have another grandchild to dote on.

Once he retired, Sam planned to babysit his grandkids so Jenny could pick up some more shifts at work. When he wasn’t doing his grandpa duties, he would spend time pottering about with his plant pots out on the balcony of his fourth-floor apartment in the Bronx. His wife, Hetty, would no doubt yell at him for spending some much time with his ‘sodding plants’ only to burst into laughter a minute later. 

He grinned at the thought and told himself, ‘not much longer now’ as he took a left onto the road of his first bus stop. At the stop, he spotted through his thick-rimmed glasses, just three passengers waiting to come aboard. The first stop was always quiet.

There was only one guy there, with a huge rucksack balanced between his legs. He looked wistful, almost like he was lost in the moment.

After the man had purchased his ticket, a woman stepped aboard, humming as she scrambled for her change. She was followed by a slightly older woman with a suitcase. As she went to pay, a plush panda fell out of her purse and she blushed.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said to Sam while bending to pick the toy up. "My son gave it to me so I wouldn't forget him when I'm away. As if I could ever do that," she explained and Sam smiled at her. She looked tired in a way that most moms did. She pushed the toy into her purse and dragged her suitcase. Sam waited for her to find a seat before closing the door and driving to the next stop.

Stop number two was unusually empty. Only an angry businessman, who was clutching his suitcase too tightly and a smiling young girl with a tiny backpack on her back. They couldn't be more different. Sam pulled in the stop and opened his doors for them to come aboard. The businessman walked past Sam, ignoring him, anger visible on his face.

"It's nice weather today," the younger woman said, smiling. "I like when it starts getting chilly. Can't wait for the snow to come," she said.

"Same here, miss," Sam answered, wondering if he could convince his eldest grandson to sledge down a hill on his own. He was so much bigger than last year, so much more independent... Sam smiled at the thought, closed the door and started driving.

He had only travelled about half a mile when tragedy struck. 

A large cargo lorry had taken a wrong turn and accidentally gone into the city. The driver was panicking and got flustered. He looked in his rear mirror and snapped his head back to see pedestrians on the road. Braking sharply, he lost control of the wheel and managed to steer clear of the pedestrians that were now running back to the sidewalk. But he didn’t manage to miss the bus travelling on the other side of the road. 

The lorry drove straight through the windscreen, bludgeoning the driver and knocking out the five passengers. 

Horrified onlookers called the emergency services who were on scene within a few minutes. The lorry driver and five passengers survived. Being higher up in the lorry cabin, that driver escaped with a few cuts and bruises. The same couldn’t be said for those on the bus. The five passengers were retrieved from the burning wreck and carted off to the local hospital. Injured, yes, but alive.

Sam Rivers had not been so fortunate. He died instantly on impact. He never did get to live out his retirement dream.

      PART 3

One Year Later

CHAPTER 32

Five Survivors of a Bus Crash Pick up Where Their Lives Left Off One Year After the Accident

Written and edited by Daniel Monroe

Nearly a year ago to the day, a bus travelling towards New Jersey crashed, causing one fatality and five hospitalisations. Sadly, the bus driver, Mr Sam Rivers, passed away instantly due to the brunt of the force impaling the windscreen. He was mourned by his wife, daughter and two grandchildren who were reportedly distraught, quoting: ‘He was going to retire as soon as he could... if only he was able to hang up his keys a little sooner, he would've still been here’.

Mr Rivers aside, just five passengers were travelling on this particular bus, one of whom was my very own daughter, Heidi. The heartbreak I went through at the thought of my own flesh and blood in that mangled carcass of a wreck was devasting, but my girl is a fighter and she sure pulled through. I have never been prouder.

Amongst the other four passengers were a Mr Justin Anderson, Miss Wendy Ulyatt, Mr Michael Lopez and Mrs Sarah Trent – now Jenkins. All five of them had been heading out of town for very different reasons when the tragedy struck. 

Seemingly out of nowhere, a cargo lorry that shouldn’t have even been on such a busy road swerved into the bus. The windscreen shattered instantly and the airbags deployed - but this did little to protect Mr Rivers.

Thankfully, most of the passengers have now recovered to good health. Heidi Monroe had said: ‘It was like life had to pause, but now it can resume again. We can start living.’ 

To commemorate the anniversary of the crash, these five once-strangers have reunited to go on a once-in-a-lifetime trip around Europe. With their newfound respect for life, these individuals have chosen to grab the bull by the horns and live the to the fullest.

Perhaps we can all learn a lesson from them.

“Oh, Heidi, it ain’t that bad!” declared Sarah after reading the article. They were sat in the departure lounge of the John F. Kennedy Airport, waiting for their flight out to Barcelona. There, they would meet Michael, who was now a proud owner of a villa out there. Justin and Wendy were joining them later.

“Yea, Sarah, it isn’t that bad,” Heidi sighed. “It’s bloody awful!” she cried. Heidi’s father had chosen to write a piece on the one-year anniversary of the bus crash his daughter was involved in. Or, in Heidi’s opinion, he had decided to exploit it. The news was scarce in the suburb of New York where Heidi grew up, so the first anniversary of a bus crash was the best piece her father could find to write up. “I cannot believe the bullshit he had written!” Heidi continued. “'I could have never been prouder’ and ‘the heartbreak I went through’ is about as true as the moon landings.”

“Still caught up on the moon landings, huh?” chuckled Sarah. Heidi sighed. “Well, you never know, maybe he is proud of you?” probed Sarah, keen to make her friend feel better. Sarah’s maternal instincts that she developed for the three ‘young ones’ of Ward 4B never went away. She tried to make all of them feel better if she could.

“Yeah, right,” Heidi muttered. Sarah knew better than to continue.

Heidi told them about her deadbeat father, always out on some job or another, so Sarah felt she knew him pretty well. She doubted that he was proud, but she couldn't understand how anyone could not be proud of Heidi.

Sarah had kissed her own children goodbye around an hour ago and she ached for them already. Her ex-husband and close friend, Oliver, had guided them away, turning back to wave at her with that old grin of his before they left the departure lounge.

Oliver had been incredibly understanding when Sarah asked for a divorce but she knew he didn’t want it too. She needed her freedom and, in the past year, she had grown to realise that her marriage was constraining her in ways she never thought it could. Even the little things like his snoring annoyed her endlessly to the point where she just snapped. They remained good friends and co-parents of their three boys but Sarah worried how the split would affect her kids. Oliver, being his usual self, would reassure her whenever she voiced any concerns, telling her how happy the boys were but this did little to stop her worries.

"And that quote!" Heidi continued. "I don't recall saying this bullshit for God's sake," she said, shaking her head. Despite her faith dwindling hugely over the past year and her church visits becoming more and more infrequent, Sarah still winced at Heidi’s use of the Lord’s name in vain. She still believed in her Lord and prayed alone at night but rarely visited her local house of worship.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I doubt anyone will read it.” This seemed to calm her friend momentarily as it dawned on her just how few people read her father’s pitiful journalistic attempts. The paper was mainly used to line hamster cages. “Anyway,” said Sarah, eager to divert Heidi’s attention. “Are you looking forward to the trip?” That seemed to do the trick and Heidi's eyes shone brightly at her friend.

“Hell yeah!” The four of them were heading out to Michael’s place for a week and then they work their way through Europe. It truly was to be a once-in-a-lifetime trip – something which Daniel Monroe had surprisingly accurately reported. The four of them had received Michael’s email six weeks prior.

Hi all,

Michael Lopez here. You may remember I have been staying at my villa on the Portuguese coast recently. Fancy joining me out here for a couple of weeks? 

Best Wishes,

ML.

They had all readily taken up the offer and regularly swapped emails amongst themselves, eager to get their plans into gear. Sarah was keen to make the trip longer.

"How ‘bout we travel the rest of Europe?" she had jokingly suggested. To her astonishment, the others agreed. Why not?

And so that was the plan thus far. Sarah and Heidi, followed by Justin and Wendy, would fly out to Barcelona to stay with Michael for a week. Then the gang would travel through as many European countries as they could before they had to get back to their jobs.

Justin was already deep into his travelling escapades, with many states now ticked off from his list. He had also been in Canada for a while and dwindling on money. Fortunately, the odd bar job and pizza delivery stints managed to tide him over, and he had scraped enough together for a flight to Spain with a bit leftover. 

Heidi had inherited a small lump of money from some recently deceased relative. Sarah had done well out of her divorce settlement, so that money wasn't a problem. Oliver was kind enough to take care of the kids when she was away.

At first, Wendy was reluctant to take such an extended period of time off work. But she was owed the holiday as she rarely used it and, with some persuasion from Lily, she had agreed.

The Ward 4B Gang, as they now affectionately called themselves, was soon to be back together. Most of them returned to the health they retained before the bus crash. Justin’s lungs still let him down sometimes and Michael’s back still ached long into the early hours of the morning. 

“This is your call for flight 32, departing at 12:45 for Lisbon,” a voice said over the airport intercom. Heidi and Sarah jumped to their feet, beaming at each other they grabbed their luggage and marched straight to the front of the queue. 

CHAPTER 33

“My damn back,” Michael groaned. It was midnight and he expected the girls to arrive in the cab he had arranged to pick them up from the airport in just over an hour. Their flight took around ten hours to get to Lisbon and, luckily, the airport wasn’t all that far from his villa. They were landing early in the morning because these flights tend to be cheaper.

Rubbing special ointment into the pit of his back, right at the base of his spine, Michael groaned once more. He felt old before his time and hated it. Like one of those clapped-out cars that would still run but ached and screeched in the process, a dented exterior weighing them down.

His back had not been the same since the crash, and despite it being slightly better, it was still painful a lot of the time. The ointment did little to ease his pain. The Portuguese doctors had tried everything with him, irritating Michael to no end as no one seemed to have the magic potion to make his discomfort disappear.

Now, looking at himself in the sink, Michael was startled to find just how old he looked. Before the crash, he was a suave kind of guy with slick back hair and piercing blue eyes. He was also never seen by anyone, excluding the mailman, in anything but a suit and tie. Now stood before him, a bushy-haired, greying ghost of his former self. His nose hairs sprayed out of the end of his nostrils, and deep bags hung from underneath his eyes. He was sleep-deprived as his back kept him awake most of the night, but the consequent appearance disgusted him. He had not even reached forty yet felt about ninety. 

Grabbing a small electric trimmer, he set to work neatening up his nose hairs, promptly moving on to his ear hairs too. He wanted to at least look half alive and decently kept when his visitors arrived.

The next hour seemed to last a lifetime as Michael sprawled about in bed, urgently seeking any comfortable position. Sleep did not bless him and the alarm he had set soon went off.

Dragging himself upright, with more moans of pain, Michael heaved himself out of bed and into a fresh pair of grey joggers and a blue Adidas T-shirt. That would do for now. He knew the girls would be shocked at his attire but they would have to get used to it. This was a vacation for him too and he was keen to be as comfortable as possible, which meant suits were off the table.

As he walked down the main staircase, into his open plan sitting room and kitchen, he gazed around at the modern décor that suffered from few homely touches. Michael had always been a man of few possessions but this was quite frankly pathetic. No photographs adorned the walls. What would he frame? Photos with his estranged family? Michael and his mother hadn’t spoken for months now and even that conversation was simply a curt phone call on her behalf, checking if he was still alive. Things with Gina were even worse - it was coming up to six months now since they last had any contact. Apparently, according to his mother in her phone call, Gina was flying even higher than before, too busy with her career to bother them.

Rubbing his hands over his face in exhaustion, a buzz from his jogger pocket told him they were near. Sarah had texted him. 

Hey Michael – the cab driver says we’re close to yours now, just coming up the hill. Exciting! See ya soon, S x

The ‘x’ at the end made his heart flutter a little and he immediately cursed himself for being so foolish. Sarah was not interested in him, and he was not in her, or at least that’s what he told himself. It had become his daily mantra at this point - an attempt to squash any feelings that might have been emerging.

Five minutes passed agonisingly slowly as Michael downed a stream of painkillers with a side of malt whiskey. His Portuguese doctor was constantly telling him off for taking too many tablets far too regularly and threatening to cut back his allowed prescription amount. How that man would blow his top if he knew Michael religiously took his medication with alcohol. 

As the cab drew up outside Michael’s villa, the girls breathed a sigh of relief and smiled warmly at each other. At long last, they were here.

“Michael!” Heidi called, stumbling from the cab as she left Sarah and the cab driver behind to retrieve her luggage from the trunk.

“Hi, Heidi! Hey Sarah,” replied Michael. With that, Sarah turned and smiled at him in the same old way she always used to. A broad and beautiful smile that he couldn’t get off his mind and one that was imprinted in his nightly dreams. Her blonde hair was tied into a messy bun, giving her the girl, or rather a mom, next door look. By contemporary standards, Sarah could never be classed as ‘stunning’, which added to Michael’s confusion as to why he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

The three of them turned to make their way to the villa and to their beds for the night. Michael took Heidi’s luggage from the cab driver and tipped him generously.

“Well, this is it,” said Michael, throwing the door open whilst struggling to balance the luggage he was holding. The girls responded with dutiful gasps of amazement.

"Oh, isn’t it nice," Heidi mumbled while looking around.

Michael glowed with pride. He knew they would say such things, it’s just what people do, but he still loved receiving compliments of any kind. Sarah had noticed this way back during their time together on Ward 4B. One day she had simply commented on how quickly he had finished the New York Times crossword puzzle and how clever he must consequently be. She noticed how his cheeks shone as red as ruby and the little grin he tried but failed to keep to himself.

Taking a seat for a nightcap at Michael’s suggestion, the girls gazed around the sitting room. In the middle of the room sat a large and expensive-looking mahogany oak table on top of a neatly trimmed teal rug. The couches were even more sparsely adorned, with no cushions or throw insight.

“It really is a lovely place. Remind me, what had you come out here?" Heidi asked.

“I had a business trip a while back and enjoyed the time I spent in the accommodation they put me in. It was only a cheap little condo. But it got me thinking – if I liked it there in a shabby place, I might love it here in a costly villa that I could own. Then whenever I am back in Portland, I can rent the place out to holidaymakers. Win-win,” replied Michael.

“Oh, I see,” added Sarah. “Have you met many of the locals?”

“A few. There is an old man who sits on the same bench every day at the junction by the phone booth. He always comments on the weather. Then there is a youngish lady who delivers the milk and eggs.”

“Youngish?” asked Sarah, chuckling at his description.             

“Well, I suppose about twenty-five. You can never tell these days.”

Not long after, the three of them were in bed, Sarah and Heidi conked out due to the exhaustion of their flight and Michael tossing and turning in pain right until the sunrise. 

CHAPTER 34

Justin and Wendy were due to arrive on separate planes within a couple of days of Heidi and Sarah getting to Michael’s villa. Justin, having just travelled to Canada, would be flying out from Toronto Pearson International, whilst Wendy, still living and working in New York, would be flying out from Newark Airport.

Canada and the USA had both suited Justin well but he was yet to travel across the big blue pond and couldn’t wait to see Europe. Whilst in Canada, he had been working a few odd jobs and had managed to pick up a bit of French from his co-workers.

At one time, he was working in a bar doing the late-night shift, which entailed escorting drunks outside. He also tried balancing another job delivering pizzas in the afternoon. He had still to get his driver’s licence, so this meant riding a bicycle around the local neighbourhood blocks, pedalling as quickly as he could so the pizzas didn’t get cold.

As he sat in the departures lounge, waiting for his flight out to Lisbon, he read a book about the Cold War.

Peering over the top of his pages, he noticed a young couple sat on the bench opposite him, unable to take their hands off each other. Their suitcases were wrapped in 'Newly Wed' banners, and the bride wore a novelty badge on her jacket saying, ‘I just got hitched’. It was quite obvious they were off on their honeymoon.

The man giggled as he fed his new wife pieces of chocolate he broke off from a large block. She smiled and ate the chocolate from his hands, gazing into his eyes the whole time. Their wedding rings blinded Justin, who sat opposite them, now teary-eyed.             

Lizard had been buried in her engagement ring, so her ring would never shine bright in an airport departure lounge. Instead, it was stuck six feet under, worms and maggots looping their way around it. She would never be fed chocolate sat on an uncomfortable plastic bench, waiting to fly out to a different continent.

Justin thought of what they would have done for their honeymoon. They probably would’ve waited for him to graduate before they married, and then the honeymoon would’ve come soon after. He liked to think it wouldn’t be much different to the travelling he had been doing.

Lizard was never the sort of girl to sit sunning herself on the beach for hours on end. She preferred ‘doing’. They would’ve travelled somewhere for sure, exploring the local cuisine, museums, galleries and tourist haunts.

That was the thing about Lizard. She would’ve gone wherever. She would love wherever she went because she was in love with life. Able to see the best in everything, she thrived in every situation and would’ve visited any country Justin planned for them. Elizabeth Newson had a zest for life, and when you have that passion, you will love whatever life throughs at you. Justin sat at the airport, contemplating what was always on his mind: the future he could never have with the love of his life.

Meanwhile, Wendy was due to catch her flight later that evening. She was busy arranging the last-minute details of her journey out to Lisbon. She hadn’t told anyone except Lily but she was travelling out later than the others to Portugal because she was waiting to hear back from her latest medical specialist. 

Wendy was suffering from polycystic ovary syndrome, which could be due to a whole range of reasons. She was asked if anything ran in her family but, of course, she didn’t know.

Her biggest concern was a very possible struggle with conceiving in the future. Wendy had always yearned to have a family – something she never had growing up – but her body was beginning to let her down.

If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve thought it a cruel turn of karma. But what had she done to deserve this? She was the kid that roamed the streets cold, hungry and alone and now she couldn’t put this right but having her own children to keep warm, feed and hug whenever they cried.

“I’m so sorry Wendy,” Lily cried, as she told her. They were sat in Lily and Izzy’s apartment on their new flush sofa, nursing cups of coffee, whilst Izzy had popped out to get some muffins. Wendy didn’t need coffee and muffins, she needed children. But she appreciated her friend’s help, nonetheless. 

Hours of sobbing and restless nights later, the day came around where Wendy was due to fly out to Portugal for the Ward 4B Gang’s trip around Europe. Genuinely looking forward to the trip but with the weight of the world on her shoulders, Wendy shoved the last few things into her holdall and checked for the fifth time that she had her passport. She would only ever be packing her own things to go on holiday, never needing to pack a roll-along kids' case with toys and clothes to go anywhere. 

By the time she caught her cab to catch the flight, she was all cried out, her eyes drier than the desert, she tried to blink but they felt scratchy and hurt. The cab driver asked where to and she told him Newark Airport. Soon she would be about to embark on the greatest, single most exciting experience of her life. Yet, she knew this was about as thrilling as her life could ever get. She’d probably never give birth, send her kids off to school on their first day, watch their school plays or cry when they went off to college. She felt alone as she always had been and worried that she was always going to be that way. 

CHAPTER 35

Once everyone had settled into villa life, the Ward 4B Gang was eager to plan out what they could explore in the nearest town. They sat around a large glass table that Michael had set up for them on the veranda out the back of his villa. The veranda and, in fact, the whole exterior of the villa, was engulfed by vines and weeds. Never much of a gardener, Michael didn’t really care. Sarah, however, cared.

“Why on Earth didn't you sort these weeds out, Michael? You could plant some nice flowers along the stone wall, it would look gorgeous,” she said after refilling her glass of water. Michael nodded in agreement, knowing better by now than to disagree with Sarah when she got an idea in her head.

“Where shall we hit first?” asked Justin, keen to write down their plans in his travel journal. His mom had bought it for him when he left to travel the states and he had meticulously recorded his movements in it ever since.

“Well, that local cave looks interesting," Heidi mumbled. "Then maybe that rock formation by that cocktail shack that Michael mentioned?” she added, before popping another olive in her mouth. Everyone nodded in agreement and soon they were packing up their bags for the busy day ahead.

Michael had the foresight to hire a jeep for them to travel around the local area. They set off in the direction of the caves. In the subsequent days of their time at the villa, a similar routine was followed. They would discuss their plans in the morning with Justin making notes, Michael guarding the keys to the jeep and Wendy busy trying to top up everyone’s food and drink. Then they would set off, visit their locations and head to the local cocktail shack for an evening meal and a few glasses of wine. Wendy, who did not drink, was appointed as the driver to get them back in one piece at night.

One day, the nice weather stopped and the group decided it was best to stay at the villa for the day as the forecast had said showers we set to last into the night. Besides, with their jam-packed days and late nights, they all needed a day to rejuvenate. 

Wendy was happy for a break, keen to read one of the thriller books that Sarah had lent to her. Heidi joined her but soon nodded off, snoring gently. Justin announced that he was going to the nearest telephone booth to call his parents, hoping the weather hadn’t caused the reception to be lost. Michael and Sarah sat alone in the sitting room, nursing a glass of wine each.

It was a long time since one of their meaningful chats since Sarah was discharged from Ward 4B, so she thought that was a good place to start.

“How have you been, Michael?” Sarah asked.

“Oh, never been better,” he lied. “Except my back's hurting like mad.” Involuntarily his hand flew to it, rubbing the base of his spine.

“No, not physically,” Sarah responded. She pointed to her heart. “How have you been feeling here?”

Michael sighed. He realised he knew the answer the moment Sarah arrived at the villa, her smile like a ripe cherry in summer. She sat next to him, patiently waiting for a response, her index finger hovering over her chest.

But what could he say? The business was thriving, and he was glad to book the time off for the trip with the others. Michael loved his villa and everything it offered. The tranquillity, breathing space from bustling Portland and even the odd enjoyable conservation with the local villagers. But now he knew he wasn’t fine. Not until Sarah got here.

“I’m lonely,” he sighed finally, his gaze dropping onto his half-empty wine glass. “I haven't realised it until now... or maybe I knew for a while but the only time I feel good is when," he stopped, swallowing hard, his eyes rising to meet hers, "when I'm with you, Sarah."

Sarah gazed at him, stunned, unable to believe what he had just said. They sat in silence for what felt like a lifetime.

“Say something,” Michael whispered, his voice almost breaking. “Surely you feel the same. This...thing between us, you must feel it too," he shook his head. "Please, Sarah,” he said, now begging her to break the void between them. 

“Michael, I adore, you must know that,” she whispered. She was so quiet he almost didn't catch it.

“I love you,” Michael said before he could stop himself, his heart on his sleeve. Sarah dropped her gaze, unable to look him in the eye. What was she thinking? Was she unable to admit that she loved him too? Or did she not want to reject him and make him more broken than he already was. She shook her head, opened her mouth but nothing came out. She tried again but her lips stayed sealed her vision blurring.

"I'm sorry," she whispered before standing up and walking out of the room, tears dripping down her face.

Michael felt he had screwed the whole thing up. Why couldn't he just stay friends with her? Why did he have to declare his love for her, ruining what they already had? He had been burying his feelings deep within him his whole life and he simply couldn’t do it any longer. He loved Sarah and believed she loved him back. She had to.

Tears streaming down her face, Sarah marched down the driveway and soon down the road away from the villa, the wind blowing the rain in her teary eyes. Not all that long ago, she was mad over Oliver. She was Sarah Trent, a loving mother and wife and now she was back to being Sarah Jenkins, a single woman who clearly didn't know what she wanted. The only man she ever loved gave her everything she had always wanted – stability and family. He gave her what her parents had. But from the day she boarded that cursed bus, ended up in the hospital and grew closer to Michael, she was falling more and more out of love from Oliver.

She loved Michael; she really did. She had realised that only recently but she didn't believe that he could ever feel the same. Oliver Trent was everything Michael Lopez was not. He was loyal, trustworthy and reliable. A man of ethics and integrity.

Michael was a cheat, a liar and the guy that slept around, not giving a fig for anyone’s feelings. Ethics and integrity were unknown to him, as he would trample over anyone that got in the way of where he wanted to be.

But she was no longer Sarah Trent, married to Oliver Trent, the kind gentleman loved by everyone. Now she was divorced, Sarah Jenkins once more, unsure of herself and her feelings. Could she really allow herself to fall again for someone so much different from her? She was worried to just ignore the feelings bubbling over within her. It was like fate was calling on her to give herself - and love - another chance. 

Walking in the opposite direction to Sarah, Justin fought against the storm to back up the hill from the phone box to the villa. With the umbrella in front of him, half-heartedly working as a windbreak, he missed Sarah sobbing her heart out as she walked the opposite way. If he had seen her, maybe things would have worked out differently. But then that is the fate for you – it works out exactly as it intends to.

By the time Sarah reached the phone box, she had managed to subdue her tears and keep her mind clear enough to dial Oliver’s home number. Steadying herself against the glass, she fought to take deep breaths and stay calm.

“Hello,” said Oliver, picking up the receiver thousands of miles away.

“Hi,” Sarah replied, fighting to keep her voice from wobbling. “Are the boys there? I wanted to speak to them.”

Oliver yelled for the boys to come in from playing in the front yard and made small talk with Sarah as the boys scampered to the phone. When they arrived, she grinned as she could hear muffled arguing as to who got to speak to mom first. Now grinning with pure joy, Sarah chatted to her boys about the school and what their friends had been up to. Once she had been informed that Adam’s friend Billy had gotten headlice and given it to half of his class, Oliver felt the need to end the boys' rambling and take back the phone. As he did, the rain started to calm as the sun began to shine through the clouds.

Sarah her goodbyes to her ex-husband and the boys and hung up. As soon as she did that, the happiness she felt went away, fleeting as always and tears started to well up in her eyes once more. 

Stepping out onto the phone booth, Sarah was temporarily blinded as the sunlight penetrated the clouds in uneven beams. Opposite where she stood sat an old man leaning on a wooden cane, who seemed to be deep in thought. He reminded her of Mad Joe and tears began to fall down her cheeks.

“What is the matter, my love?” shouted the old man. Sarah turned to face him. He had bushy hair and a matching snowy moustache that curled out at either end. A concerned look painted his face. She sighed and walked towards him, the sun becoming warmer by the second. Taking a seat next to the old man, Sarah sniffled. The man gestured for her to talk.

“A dear friend had just told me that he loves me and I- I don’t know what to do,” she said, her voice breaking.

"Take a deep breath, my dear,” advised the old man. She did as she was told, feeling herself calm down slightly.

“And now I am sat on a bench in the middle of nowhere in Portugal, discussing my problems with a stranger, who cannot possibly understand my situation.”

They both sat in silence, before the old man turned to her, grabbing her hand and holding it in between his two wrinkled palms. “When I was a young man, many, many years ago, I had to go away and fight in the army. I left the love of my life behind. Her name was Maria,” his voice was calm but his eyes seemed to be a million miles away. Sarah gazed at him, listening intently. “Everyone thought us boys would die out there. I thought so too. But, my Maria, she was the one that ended up dying. Pneumonia... It was the coldest winter known to my country. I loved her. I still do. Will do until my dying day, which, let’s face it, might be soon,” he chuckled before continuing. “But I never acted on that love. Out in the firing range, I thought as soon as I got back, I would, but of course, I was too late by that point. We never married, and we never had children and grandchildren together. And now I am just an old man sat on the same bench I sit on every day – come rain or shine - discussing my problems with a stranger.” They both chuckled nervously and grinned at each other knowingly.  

“So, my dear if you love this man, act on it. Before it is too late and you end up on a bench back in your hometown, doing exactly what we are doing now.”

CHAPTER 36

Meanwhile, back at the villa, Wendy had decided to check in on Justin, who had been silent since he came back from the phone booth. She noticed that he was fidgeting with something and smiled.

“What’s that?” she asked, taking a seat next to him.

“A little globe that my fiancé gave me,” he replied. He had told the others very little about Lizard, choosing to keep that part of his life private but they did know that they were engaged to be married when she died. “I take it everywhere I go. It feels like she's with me when I do.”

“That’s very sweet,” replied Wendy and put her palm on his shoulder. “She would be so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Justin answered, a polite smile on his lips. “I reckon we would’ve gone travelling together. Perhaps during our honeymoon,” he shrugged, but his eyes looked glassy. Wendy placed her closest arm around him, pulling him close.

“I bet she would be even prouder if you moved on, found someone else to travel with.” They both knew she did not mean herself. Their friendship was closer to that of siblings.

“How am I supposed to do that?” he asked, genuinely seeking an answer.

“I have no idea,” she replied with equal honesty. “But you have taken the first step without even knowing it.”

“What do you mean?” Justin replied.

“Well, you say you would have travelled together and here you are travelling with friends. You could have stayed home, wallowing, but you took the leap. You travelled the states alone, and now the Ward 4B Gang is going to see Europe. You are going to see Europe.”

She was right. To travel with the Ward 4B Gang was the best thing he ever did and Justin smiled to himself as he realised just how proud Lizard really would’ve been of him. He let himself smile and hugged Wendy back, thanking her for being there for him. She truly was the best friend he could ever ask for.

Meanwhile, Heidi awoke from her nap startled by the sound of what seemed to be an alarm. She eventually realised it was her portable phone ringing on the bookcase next to her. She answered the phone, wondering why she ever bothered to bring it out here in the first place.

“Hel-, is this-, Mon-?” went the caller. Heidi, still half asleep, was baffled until she remembered just how poor the reception was out in the villa. Her phone wasn’t a particular up to date model, so she had no caller identification installed on it. This meant that she had no idea who was calling her. 

“I’m sorry the line is bad. Who is this?” she replied.

“The Ne-, Police…” was the response - or what she could make out of it. She moved into the kitchen, hoping the reception would improve. It did. “We thought it best that you found out from us,” the caller stated.

Confused, Heidi replied, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. Best I found out what from you?”

“That the deceased was found hung this morning,” came the response. “The coroner will, of course, confirm the cause of death for you but we are anticipating it to be suicide.”

Speechless and fighting to get her words out, Heidi thought of her mother and brother, both locked away in their destructive habits. Her mind filled with tawdry visions of her mom hung from the light fixture in her private room at the rehab centre. Then she saw Dan, her big brother, hung from the ceiling of his shared cell from a make-shift rope made up of tied bedsheets.

“Ms Monroe?” said the caller. Heidi closed her eyes, trying to make the world stop spinning.

Spluttering once again, Heidi replied, “I’m sorry, who is dead?”

“Your father, Ms Monroe. Mr Daniel Sr Monroe.”

CHAPTER 37

“I love you too, Michael,” announced Sarah, standing in the open doorway of Michael’s bedroom, soaked to the bone. He stared at her – now it was his turn to be stunned into silence. “But I can’t act on it for as long as my boys are boys,” she continued. “I have caused enough upheaval leaving their dad. I can’t introduce another man into their life, not until they're way older. If you are prepared to wait, then so am I.”

Michael smiled. She loved him too. He hadn’t been a complete fool and she hadn’t rejected him. She loved him and nothing else mattered, not really. He had never waited for any women before. But then again, he had never been in love before. Michael's ice-cold heart was melting and the fire in Sarah’s was roaring strong. 

They embraced and kissed, a long and passionate kiss that they both knew was well overdue. When they separated, they held each other, never wanting to let go. Over Sarah’s shoulder, Michael saw Wendy leaving Justin’s bedroom. He cursed himself for not shutting the door but it turns out he didn't need to bother. Wendy just smiled at them and made her way down the stairs, allowing them to stay in the moment. He needed to thank her for that later.

CHAPTER 38

On the morning they were due to leave for Spain, Justin and Wendy decided to take a little walk before the journey across the border.              

As they walked down the hill from Michael’s villa they chatted about how Michael and Sarah had finally admitted their feelings to each other. They also mentioned how remarkably well Heidi was dealing with her father’s suicide.

“She just doesn’t seem bothered,” remarked Justin, still in shock to how well Heidi was coping, especially given the suicide ruling. “I mean, she said she’s leaving all the procedural stuff up to the solicitor. She's letting them arrange a funeral!” He shook his head at how impersonal that felt. 

“Well, she did say that they weren’t a close family, so perhaps she feels no loss as such,” replied Wendy, shrugging.

Such an idea baffled Justin. He would be distraught if either of his parents killed themselves. Just the thought of them dying made his eyes start to moisten but he liked to think they had a few years left in them. Wendy, on the other hand, could understand where Heidi was coming from. She didn't know if her mother was alive and, frankly, she didn't care.

“I guess you can’t grieve someone you didn’t love,” concluded Wendy. Justin still didn’t really understand, he had experienced love in every sense so he could never really understand. 

The sun beamed down on the pair as they neared the small church down the hill. Outside sat a mother and two children. All three had matted hair and ragged clothes, huddling together despite the warmth of the morning sun. 

Justin and Wendy stepped inside the church and went their separate ways. Wendy went to admire the ornate stained-glass windows and Justin focused more on the architecture of the building than its arts. Standing by a statue of the Virgin Mary, Wendy placed her sun-worn hands together and shut her eyes. She prayed for the family outside and for all the poor families of the world. She had never been one for religion but it was worth a shot. She finished with a note begging to be gifted a child at some point in her life and immediately felt selfish for doing so. Fate had set her path for her but she couldn’t help aching for a family of her own one day.

Justin was also sceptical on the religious front but as he took in the beautiful surroundings that stood before him, he felt inner peace. Taking a seat on the front pew, he admired the artistry of the delicate water fountain with its porcelain surface covered in dainty pink and red petunias. As he stood up to leave, he noticed not that Wendy had already left but that someone else he recognised stood at the wedged open doorway of the church. Lizard.

It was just like at his graduation. Her smile mesmerised him as the beating sun shone behind her figure. Desperately trying to avoid blinking and utterly absorbed at the moment, Justin felt his heart was about to explode. She looked so proud and content. Her eyes twinkled before she turned to walk away from him. With a swish of her long plaits, she was gone. Just like that. Left alone, mouth wide, Justin truly felt that his Lizard had visited him and that – just maybe – she was trying to tell him to move on.

Outside the church, there were now four figures sat on the poorly laid and cracking slabs – the mother, her two urchins and Wendy. The little trio didn’t speak English but they smiled at Wendy and Wendy smiled at them. They understood not what Wendy was saying but that she was a kind person. The children gazed up at this angel speaking in a foreign language they understood nothing of, the sun extenuating her features. Wendy’s smile alone had crossed the language barrier and her thoughtfulness to stop a while to at least try and converse with the family was a big gesture. Wendy emptied her purse of all the change she had and gave it to the mother, not bothering to count how much she was giving away. It will mean more to them than to her anyway.

Justin realised that on that day, he didn't just see one angel; he saw two.

PART 4

After the Europe Trip

CHAPTER 39

Once the trip had ended, four out of the five Ward 4B Gang returned to the states as Michael chose to stay in his Portuguese villa for a short while. Now pining for Sarah more than ever, he had phoned Henderson and Pollock head office and asked to move back to the New York City branch with immediate effect. They were very obliging as they didn’t want to risk losing their biggest earner. He never thought he’d be feeling this way but here he was, shaking his whole life up for a woman he had fallen for.

The others had loved the trip, having travelled through Portugal, Spain and France. They then went on to briefly visit Belgium, the Netherlands and Germany. If money and work allowed, in the future, they all wished they could return to Europe and tick some of the remaining countries off. Justin, in particular, was keen to visit some more of the place, including the Greek islands.

Now, sat on the veranda of his villa, looking at the even more overgrown weeds around the place, Michael sipped at an Aperol spritzer. He dreaded returning to work and facing the reality of his and Sarah’s situation. They had thrived in each other’s company as they travelled as part of the Ward 4B Gang and had fallen even more for each other as the days spent together passed. The group has often parted ways but Michael and Sarah had barely been apart, practically joint at the hip.

Now, sat on the veranda alone and slightly tipsy, he missed her sorely and thought of her arriving at JFK Airport. They had an unspoken mutual agreement that they were exclusive but he didn’t know how long it would take before she was fully his. She made it clear from day one that they would have to wait until her boys were older but how old? In their teen years? Or eighteen? Twenty-one even?

Michael shuddered both from the draft from the Portuguese coastline and the thought of having to wait so long. When they had been near each other, it was fine, the idea of waiting not really dawning on him. But now, when she was back on American soil, the prospect of having to wait to be in a relationship with her thumped him straight in the face.

It didn’t help not knowing just how long Sarah would make him wait. He knew she would stay loyal to him but how could he go that long without being with her? Why couldn’t he meet her kids? As he drank more and more, turning to his old pal malt whiskey, he started to mull the whole situation over more. Did she think he wasn’t the sort of person she would want her kids around? Why? Who did she think she was to disrespect him like that?

“Damn her,” he mumbled to himself as he gulped another sip of whiskey.

But that was the problem: he couldn’t just ‘damn’ her. He told himself he hated her, that he could move on and live without her but the reality was he loved her. Michael's jaw began to ache from where he had been grinding his teeth in rage and his head pounded from the alcohol he was chucking back. 

In the background, a muffled sound interrupted his resentful thoughts. A knock. He stumbled through the kitchen, struggling as the room continued to whirl around him. Finally, he reached the door, gripping the handle tightly and opened it to find a familiar-looking face of a twenty-something-year-old woman with a bright smile. She was holding a tray of eggs. Her smile faded as she realised what state he was in.

"Uhm, hello, Mr Michael. I have brought you your products and-" she started timidly and he hated how her brows connected in concern. He didn't want anyone to be concerned about him. He was a man. He didn't need pity from some poor delivery lady.

"Who are you?" he interrupted her. She blinked in surprise.

"I'm Catia?" she answered but her tone went up in a questioning way. "I deliver your eggs?" she added, pointing to the crate in her arms. He grabbed it from her too quickly and too hard, making all the eggs fall at their feet. She let out a small squeak before falling to her knees, trying to pick out the eggs that didn't break to pieces. "There's no reason to waste," she mumbled and looked up at him with a timid smile. It was at that moment, as she knelt before him with a genuine smile, picking up his mess, he grinned, his mind falling back into familiar habits.

"Would you like to come in for a drink?" he mumbled, trying to swallow a burp that was going up against his throat. She stopped what she was doing and looked at him with confusion.

"But the eggs-"

"Damn the eggs. Let's have some fun," he said, trying to look as appealing as he could. He shoved his hand in front of her.

Maybe it was the peculiarity of the situation, the lust in Michael's eyes or the fact that she had stopped loving her husband years ago but Catia realised what the invite meant and, without any hesitation, she grabbed Michael's palm and followed him inside.

CHAPTER 40

“So, to cut a long story short, we have decided to adopt!” declared Lily. Wendy sat opposite her friend in her apartment in New Jersey. Lily had had to compromise with Izzy on decorative taste and they had opted for a more modern vibe. The place was packed to the brim with brightly coloured throws and cushions. Abstract art prints covered the walls. It was a little odd but nice.

“That’s amazing!” Wendy cried, placing her latte back on the coffee table. 

“Yeah, well, obviously we can’t conceive naturally,” Lily giggled. “So, we thought it would be nice to give a baby in need a better chance in life.”

Wendy reflected on her own miserable childhood and thought this was a lovely idea. As a kid, she had wanted a mommy, daddy and lots of siblings but she now realised that any sort of family would’ve been beyond amazing. She knew that the child Lily and Izzy would adopt would, without a doubt, be cared for deeply.

“So, how does it all work?” asked Wendy. “You know, the whole adoption process?” Having never been fortunate enough to be adopted herself, she was keen to see what it would’ve been like to experience. She also wanted to know what her friends would soon be going through. Lily was more than happy to explain.

Wendy still couldn’t help but feel a strong ache in her heart. She was still coming to terms with her latest diagnosis of polycystic ovary syndrome. Maybe she could also look into adoption. The idea scared her. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the idea of adopting because she really did but she didn’t want to adopt and become a single mother.

Throughout her childhood, and indeed into adulthood, Wendy never knew who her father was. As a young and innocent kid, she liked to think he was a famous rockstar, an astronaut or maybe even Tarzan himself. But as she grew older and wiser to her surroundings, she realised he was most probably one of her mom’s clients.

It’s not even that she ever wanted to meet her dad, as he would only disappoint her if she did. It was more that she had longed for that classic family life but never received it. She wanted children tremendously but in equal amounts wanted to give those children everything she didn’t have. And that included a loving father. Wendy resigned herself to wait until she found Mr Right. Maybe then they could adopt and have what she had always wished for.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Heidi stood alone in the sitting room of her childhood, really wishing she were anywhere else in the world. In this exact room, her father had unexpectantly hung himself.

Until now, she had been abroad on the Europe trip, blissfully ignoring the disaster unfolding at home but now she had to face reality. Her mom was showing no signs of leaving rehab anytime soon and Heidi knew her brother would never return to her childhood room, so it fell to her to sort everything out. The solicitors had taken care of most of the post-death paperwork but they needed paying and the only way Heidi could afford this was to allow them to take anything from the house that was worth anything - which wasn’t very much.

When her brother had been informed of their dad’s death, he was reported 'unfazed’. This came as no shock to Heidi as she knew there was no love between Dan and their parents. Her mom, on the other hand, had suffered yet another mental breakdown thanks to the distressing news.

Taking deep and long breathes, Heidi went about bagging up some of the more personal effects that were worthless money wise and therefore still lying about the place. A bin liner in hand, she went about rummaging through her dad’s desk, digging out anything that the solicitors left behind.

Fumbling around in her dad’s desk, she pulled out multiple newspaper clippings from his ‘career’ as a deadbeat reporter. She sighed as she read the ridiculous headlines that her dad had written articles on. 'Sausage dog spots drowning woman and barks to alert owner', 'Local ice cream vendor shut down by health inspector as fingernail clipping is spat out by unsuspecting child' and 'Just how clean is your toilet seat?' and many more like that. 

Now laughing at the ridiculousness of the reported stories, Heidi promptly chucked at the stupidity of her father’s journalism career. Still feeling around the bottom drawer of his desk, she felt a hard object wedged and the back and, after a bit of wiggling about, it came free. 

In her hand was now a little box that she had never seen before. Blowing the thick layer of dust off the top and prizing the lid open, her hand slipped. The contents fell across the floor in front of her. She sat on the floor, still clutching the box tightly, gazing around at the black and white polaroid photos that her dad had stored for what must’ve been years.

It took Heidi a few seconds to figure out that a madly in love couple in the pictures was her mom and dad. These photos must’ve been taken when they were courting before they were married and tied down by children. Her mom’s smile radiated pure joy and her dad looked utterly besotted. 

It dawned on Heidi there and then just how much in love her parents must’ve been. Her mom was neurotic, mentally disturbed and high maintenance but Heidi now realised just how in love her dad was to stay by her mom’s side. That must be true love. But the young and ditsy girl he fell for was gone. She was replaced by an entirely different person and Heidi now knew why her dad chose to end it all. He couldn’t face seeing the woman he loved now existing as someone else. He had been slowly losing the love of his life for years and, one day, he looked her in the eyes and didn't recognise the woman in front of him.

CHAPTER 41

As Michael awoke, he felt as if his head was on fire lay as he laid on his now sick-stained pillow. Groaning from his hangover and back pain, he rolled over to find Catia, naked and still asleep, on the other side of his bed. Clothes were sprawled all around his bedroom, his favourite whiskey glass laid smashed on the floor, the alcohol sticking to the wood. He ignored the mess, knowing that he wouldn’t be the one to clean it up.

Struggling out of bed, Michael walked over to his en-suite before sitting himself on the floor by the toilet. Here, he went on to spend the next half an hour, his mind full of images of Sarah, the sadness in her eyes when she will find out that he still was what he always was, a disappointment. His own brain was working against him, forcing him to watch a picture film of himself and Sarah together, happy and madly in love. And now, he had screwed the whole thing up. 

Michael slumped to the floor; his vision fixed on the toilet brush. He could barely remember the night before but knew the basics – he and Catia had sex and he had blacked out. Should he tell Sarah? They weren’t really a couple but he couldn’t get out of this on a technicality – she would view this as cheating and, deep down, he knew what he had done should be considered as such.

Should he admit his infidelity? He shuddered at the thought. Sarah had confided in him the tale of the heartbreak her own brother went through when his short-lived marriage fell through after his wife cheated on him. Could Michael really force Sarah to experience those same feelings? He didn’t think he could face telling her face to face. He knew it made him a coward but he didn't care.

Michael managed to pull himself up, using the side of the toilet bowl, and shuffled himself unsteadily into the bedroom. He was shocked to realise that Catia had disappeared, leaving a little note. Eggs will be delivered tomorrow at 7am by Bruno.

Michael looked around at the untidy room, the paper note heavy in his palm. Then, he had a terrible thought.

No note, no girl, no problem. He scrambled the piece of paper, then unscrambled it and ripped it to pieces just to be sure.

No note, no girl, no problem. He repeated to himself as the paper snow covered his sticky floor.

No note, no girl, no problem.  He shook his head, trying to focus his vision. Sarah would never find out about this. Nothing happened. He can be happy and he can let her be happy. He just needed to forget the girl, forget the note, forget...

In a few days, he will fly back to New York City, where he would reunite with the one woman that had come along and changed everything about him. The woman he loved. The woman that mattered. He could be happy.

No note, no girl, no problem. But unfortunately, Sarah didn’t change one thing about him – he was still a cheat and he knew it. 

He could feel vomit coming up again and he wondered how much one person could throw up in one evening. Maybe he was simply sick of himself.

No note, no girl, no problem.

CHAPTER 42

Now that the trip of a lifetime had ended, it was time for Justin to finally find a full-time job. He had done well in his architecture degree and he had a good portfolio with him but the selection processes were brutal. 

After all the travelling he’d been doing and having only worked in dribs and drabs to fund him along the way, he was officially broke. This meant that he was back living at home for a while, building up the cash to move out. He must’ve sent out thousands of resumes before he got any responses but as his mom said, he needed to stick at it.

Desperate to get back into some sort of routine, Justin started to apply to part-time jobs that would tide him over in the meantime. Not that long after they had gotten back from Europe, Sarah called him.

“Hey, Justin! Any luck on the job front?” she asked. Justin’s sigh of exasperation down to the phone spoke a thousand words. 

“No,” he groaned. “I’m looking for some part-time jobs now, anything really to get back into normality and get some money in the bank.”

“Well, I think there’s a vacancy at the place Jason works at,” Sarah replied, recalling Jason having said something like that to her anyway.             

“Oh, really? Where does he work again?” Justin asked.

“Well, he’s actually the manager now of a coffee shop on 23rd street. I’m sure he’d give you some hours,” Sarah replied, glad she could help Justin in some way.

“That sounds good. What exactly would I be doing?” Justin asked. He was slightly concerned as he had never worked in a coffee shop. He didn't even drink coffee so he hadn’t the faintest idea what all the different types of coffee meant.

“Oh, I don’t know coffee shop stuff. Hey, I tell you what, grab a pen and paper, I’ll give you his number. Just be sure to explain who you are. You might need to have an interview but that should be easy for you,” Sarah said, scrambling for her contacts book so that she could recite Jason’s number down the phone to Justin.

Within a week, Jason had helped Justin fill out all the appropriate forms and he was off and running. As it turned out, Justin was mainly responsible for cleaning, working on the till and tidying away tables, so there wasn’t too much to learn with regards to coffee making just yet. Justin absolutely thrived in the bustling environment, building up inner confidence he never knew he had. The thrill of working so closely with so many people around made him understand why Lizard loved her job at the ice-cream parlour so much. It made him feel closer to her than ever.

One day Heidi and Sarah decided to pop in to see the two boys and grab a cup of coffee. The visit came as quite a surprise. Taking a seat, Heidi and Sarah watched Justin from behind a newspaper for a while, admiring how confident he seemed. They giggled to each other at the whole covert operation they were carrying out.

“We’re like spies,” Heidi whispered. 

“I know! The name’s Jenkins, Sarah Jenkins,” Sarah whispered back. Heidi went to laugh out loud before stopping herself just in time, as not to give the game away. They both giggled silently once more.

“I reckon we should go say hi,” Heidi whispered, “I’ll go order a couple of coffees. What do ya want?”

With Sarah’s order in mind, Heidi took to the growing line and mimicked spy moves to Sarah, making her giggle. Finally, Heidi arrived at the front of the queue.

“Hello, sir, could I please have a mocha for myself and an iced vanilla latte for my friend over there please,” she said to Justin, pointing in Sarah’s direction. Sarah waved. The three of them burst out laughing as Justin took their order. 

"Hey, Jason," Justin turned to his boss. "I'm taking my lunch break," he said and put his apron down before sitting down with Sarah and Heidi. Squashed around the little table, the three of them caught each other up on their latest news. Heidi told the others of the polaroid’s she found in her dad’s desk whilst the other two gasped dutifully at the appropriate moments. Justin told the others how much more confident he felt now that he was working in a job where he had to interact with many different people. He also made sure to thank Sarah once again for practically getting him the job and remarked on how kind her brother was.

Sarah then went on to tell the others the details of Michael’s flight that was due to land the following day at Newark airport. She was going to catch a cab and meet Michael as he got off the plane. Then they were going to go back to Sarah’s place to discuss their future. Things were still going well between them, as far as Sarah was concerned, but they had to discuss how they were going to take things slowly in the background whilst her boys grew up.

She had been flattered when Michael had said he was transferring back to the branch of his workplace in New York City. He had also opened up to her about how wary he was of moving back to the New York City branch. When she had asked him why he answered, “I made my mark there. And not a good one.”

Things were looking good all-around for the Ward 4B Gang. Justin had a new job in which he was thriving. Heidi had now made a collage of her parents’ photographs from their youth and hung it on her wall. Wendy’s friend had told her that she was going to adopt, which Wendy talked incessantly about to the others. Michael was travelling back to the states, into Sarah’s open arms. Finally, Sarah was spending more time with her boys. She also couldn’t wait to see Michael.

PART 5

A Few Months Later

CHAPTER 43

Ever since they got back from their trip to Europe, Heidi has been adamant that Justin should try dating websites.

"C'mon, Justin. They're like the new way to find young, eligible and like-minded singletons just like you! Or at least that's what the website says but you know," Heidi mumbled to him one evening over pizza. Justin wasn't so convinced. You hear all these stories of seedy, old perverts using them to hook up with young girls. But Heidi was persistent, so more to shut her up than anything, Justin let her set him up a profile. He preferred to leave the matchmaking to the hands of fate but, to be honest, fate wasn't really working for him right now.

So now there he was, on a blind date with a girl from Poughkeepsie who has recently moved to Queens. Well, the 'blind' part wasn't exactly true - they talked through emails and exchanged pictures but this was the first time they officially met. Pete from work thought this was a good idea, much to Heidi's delight.

Justin shook his head, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers. He had worked with Pete ever since he started at Brollingtons, a large architectural firm in Manhattan that designed skyscrapers. It seemed like his dream job just came to Justin. He enjoyed working at Jason's coffee shop but he was finally given the chance to do what he always wanted to do. He couldn't let an opportunity like that pass. Luckily, his time working in a coffee shop taught him about confidence and when he started at the new job, he made friends instantly. On the first day, Justin had been assigned to work with Pete. They hit it off and had been friends ever since.

Justin liked to think that his times of sweaty palms and dripping with nerves were gone but that night, as he waited for Polly to arrive at the bar, he was visibly nervous.

CHAPTER 44

This was it: Heidi’s mom had completely lost it. Heidi just arrived back at her apartment, which she now shared with Wendy - it helped them save some money and be less lonely. As she visited her mom in the rehab facility, Heidi had realised that her mom might never leave that place - that is, if she could afford to pay for it until she died. Hence, a need to save some money, hence a need for a flatmate.

Today, Heidi had to remind her mother that her father died. Twice. The nurses say her mind had let her down and now her memory is failing. It had been this way since her dad died. Thankfully, for once, Dan was doing okay. Wendy helped to find him a place where he could live alone, away from bad influences. Maybe this time, he will change. Maybe.

It seemed to be fate when Justin found a new job and Jason needed someone to take his place just as Daniel left prison. The stars finally aligned and all that.

"You sure you don't mind that he's a convict?" Heidi asked Jason over the phone one evening. She heard him laugh.

"Everyone deserved a chance to earn an honest living," he said and she smiled. She couldn't agree more. Talking about 'honest living', Heidi found a new job as a travel agent. She was inspired by their trip to Europe and how much it mattered to her. She wanted to help others explore the world. Plus, the extra money in the bank helped. She could even afford to live in a nice suburb with Wendy, which made her very happy. She was doing well and, for once in her life, she was proud of herself.

She and Wendy had fun together after work. They often stayed in and watched TV, occasionally drinking wine and laughing all night long. They took turns cooking meals for each other. Sometimes Dan would come over to steal their leftovers, which weren't really leftovers but an extra portion they always made sure to make. He didn't need to know how much they actually took care of him.

On other weekends, the Ward 4B Gang would meet up, occasionally going out for a meal at a local steak joint. Sometimes Michael would bring Chinese take-out only to feel smarter than them when they couldn't use the chopsticks correctly. Overall, Heidi couldn't be happier with where she was right now. She didn’t even care about being single anymore, completely contempt with her life that was just getting better and better. She felt so silly thinking about all the dating deadlines she previously set for herself: meet him by 31, be married by 33, have kids around 35 – it now seemed crazy to her. Instead of worrying about how others perceived her, Heidi learned to just live. And isn’t it that what it’s all about?

CHAPTER 45

Wendy was so over the moon for Lily and Izzy. They were soon getting a little girl who was just six months old and currently living in foster care. Her name was Daisy and she looked perfect. Wendy had seen all the photos that her friends showed them, excitement visible in their eyes. Now, every time Wendy saw any toys and little clothes, she couldn't stop herself from buying them. She might never be a mom but she will sure as hell be the best aunt she could ever be.

And she was finally ready to get into the dating scene. Sarah had set Wendy up for a date with her older brother, Jason. She insisted that he was an ideal man for Wendy and she was excited to learn if that was true. Justin and Dan, who had definitely been forced by Sarah and Heidi to be supportive, couldn't stop talking about how perfect Jason was.

One day, Sarah and her three little boys popped by to help them paint the sitting room. Once everything and everyone had been covered in blue paint from head to toe, Sarah turned and smiled at Wendy.

"Jason will meet you tomorrow at the bar in the city. Red Mic, I think it was called." Wendy opened her mouth to speak but Sarah raised her hand to shut her up. "Six o'clock. Wear something pretty. You will have fun, love you," she added and rushed through the front door, grabbing one of her sons by the sleeve of his jacket.

"What the-" Wendy started and turned to look at Heidi, who simply shrugged.

"Look like you have a date tomorrow," she stated the obvious.

CHAPTER 46 

Michael had been trying to improve himself and he was doing really good. Since the unfortunate night with Catia, that he decided to forget completely, he was a changed person. He had cut back on drinking and started eating healthier, mostly because Sarah gave him books and articles on how he would die in his early 50s if he continued living his life as he did. Sure, his back still hurt and the doctors reckoned it would never be the same but he was lucky to be alive and he would never forget that.

Sarah didn’t know about the Catia mistake. She was so happy every time he saw her, talking about her sons and  newfound hobby - gardening. He knew he could ruin that by telling her the truth, so he simply didn’t. And he never intended to. This would be one secret that he would take to the grave and burn in Hell for but he was okay with that. He would be the best almost-boyfriend she ever had and make her happy again.

Sarah and he were moving slowly. She introduced him to her children as her friend and he realised that he didn't mind. He didn't mind moving slowly as long he could move at Sarah's pace with her.

Today was Saturday and Michael was getting ready for his weekly date with Sarah. Sure, they spoke on the phone most days of the week and she even popped into his office a couple of times to say hi but the weekends were theirs. It was when the kids stayed with their dad and Sarah didn't have to worry about them all the time. She could just focus on him and he could just focus on her.

Sarah highlighted that their weekends were not dates and Michael pretended to believe her as he bought her flowers and took her out for dinner. Tonight, they were going to see a movie and later get some drinks at a nearby bar. Michael suspected that Sarah wanted to go to that bar to spy on Jason's date with Wendy but he didn't mind. Doing anything with Sarah was fun.

Gina got in touch with him last week to tell him that their mom was planning to move to Pennsylvania. He wasn't rude to her, didn't raise his voice once, even when she told him to pick up his old stuff or they will throw it away. Gina must've noticed how civil he was.

"I'm glad we can at least talk once a year without you breaking into pieces," she said, her tone genuine. Normally, Michael would've taken that as a dig but he realised it was a compliment. He wondered how many times his sister tried to be nice to him just to be yelled at. No surprise she stopped trying years before he did.

"I hope we can make it twice a year," he said, his tone as honest as hers.

"I would like that." He was surprised to realise that he, too, wanted it.

Now, as he stood in front of the cinema, a bouquet of tulips in his left hand, he chuckled at his past self. He was so filled with rage and resentment that he didn't even realise he hated himself the most. Letting go of all the anger had really changed his life.

"Hi," Sarah said, suddenly appearing in front of him, her smile as bright as the sun. God, he loved her so much. "You ready?"

CHAPTER 47

"We need to stay low so they won't see us," Sarah whispered to Michael as they sat, hunched over their booth table, watching Wendy throw her head back in laughter. Jason smiled at his date and Sarah squeezed Michael's hand. "Do you think it's going well?"

"It looks like it couldn't go better," he whispered back as he pointed out Wendy's left hand was resting on top of Jason's right palm. Sarah couldn't wait to hear from both of them what they thought of each other. She knew they were perfect and they deserved each other. They were both so kind and caring. Wendy was so used to taking care of others, Sarah couldn't wait for someone to take care of her.

"Wait, is that-?" Sarah squinted, spotting a familiar head full of messy blonde hair.

"Justin?" Michael finished her thought. It seemed as if he had heard them as he marched towards them.

"Guys, what are you-?" he started but Sarah grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into the booth. "What the-?"

"Shh, we're checking-"

"Spying," Michael interrupted.

"-on Wendy and Jason," Sarah finished and pointed at the couple. Justin followed her finger and smiled.

"I hope it's going well," he said. "They are kind of perfect together."

"What are you doing here?" Michael asked and Sarah realised she was wondering it was well. Justin shrugged.

"This is where my date with Polly was today," he said and Sarah opened her mouth wide. "Before you ask, it went okay but I don't think we will be meeting again. But it's okay. Now that I've done it once, I will be able to do it again. I will find someone. Eventually," he said and Sarah nodded.

"How are we doing, gang?" they heard a familiar voice as Heidi slid next to them into now a very full booth. "Are you guys spying on the lovebirds as well? You should've told me, we could've coordinated this better," she mumbled as she sipped her drink. Justin raised his hand a little.

"Actually, I am here beca-" he started but Heidi interrupted him.

"Oh my god, guys, look!" she whispered and Sarah turned just in time to see Wendy lean forward, her lips meeting Jason's. The entire booth erupted with loud cheers. Too loud. Wendy moved away from Jason quickly, confused until her gaze landed on them. She rolled her eyes, poked Jason's knee and pointed at their booth. Wendy giggled at something he said and picked up her drink.

"To Ward 4B!" she shouted over to them, raising her glass.

"To Ward 4B!" they cheered back.

EPILOGUE

On his walk up the hill to Catia’s, Tomás noticed just how much colder the Portuguese evenings were beginning to get. He wondered just how cold it was over in New York, where the five youngsters he met this summer lived. The older chap, Michael, rented the villa to young Catia. Tomás had wondered how she could afford it since she had just divorced her husband – but promptly reminded himself not to be so nosy. Nonetheless, Tomás was thrilled that Catia had also been keen to have him around for a few suppers a week. 

Tomás missed Maria sorely and regretted every day that he never told her how he felt. But he realised that talking about her, usually to Wendy (when she rang from America for a chat) or Catia, kept her memory alive. He felt this was the least he could do for the woman he had loved his whole life.

Arriving at the villa, Tomás let himself in through the side gate to the veranda at the back. There was a time when this veranda was a mess, a jungle of overflowing weeds and unpleasant insects. Now the place buzzed with vibrant colours, various flower species and crowds of bees. Catia was to thank for that – she had certainly brightened the place up. 

Seeing Tomás, Catia removed her pinny and placed the final dish full of pitta bread and cheese on the table. Mimicking drinking a glass of wine and raising an inquisitive eyebrow, she asked if he wanted a glass of rosé. Of course, he did.

“What shall we cheer to tonight, Tomás?” she asked.

“How about our friends in New York? To chance encounters?” he replied.

Oh, if only he knew, Catia thought. She was under no illusions as to why Michael had offered her this place at such a slashed back price. She had never intended to tell anyone of their night together and was still never going to. He was her mystery lover that came along at just the right time. She was stuck in a loveless marriage to a horrid man and her revenge had been to sleep with the rich American before handing her husband the divorce papers. She got her own back. It was just a shame that she was the only person that could ever know. 

After her divorce, she needed somewhere to live and was strapped for cash, so was in no position to turn down Michael’s offer. Everything worked out well in the end. She had a lovely villa and little money leaving her account each month. Michael had the security of her keeping quiet. A perfect agreement – he just didn’t know it.

With a nod, Catia raised her glass and Tomás followed suit. “To our friends in New York and chance encounters!” she declared with a smile. Their glasses sounded a satisfying chink.