The words shimmered and reverberated in the air between them. Their eyes locked and stayed locked. Hallie gripped the sides of the chair she was sitting on and murmured, ‘Me too.’ Her heart was clattering, her mouth bone-dry, her brain reeling at this revelation.
Jean glanced up from her phone. ‘Well that’s what I call a coincidence, two people both getting new hearts on the same day! I mean, what are the chances of that happening, eh?’
The photographer, whose name was Sandra, paused in the process of setting up the lighting system for the shoot and said, ‘Wow, weird! If it’d been kidneys, they could have both come from the same person. But it’s not as if anyone’s got two hearts to give away!’
Hallie was lost for words. Time was kaleidoscoping, simultaneously speeding up and slowing down. Tasha was still watching her in the mirror. And she knew. Of course she knew. The vast majority of the population might never have heard of the domino transplant procedure, but she and Tasha were only too aware of it.
Oh my God . . .
‘So I wonder if there was some huge traffic accident with loads of people involved?’ Her eyes bright and beady, Jean said, ‘That could make an interesting angle to the piece. Is there any way we could find out?’
Whoa . . .
‘No.’ Hallie was firm. ‘They don’t tell you who your donor is. It’s all very strict. Any letters are exchanged via the transplant coordinator, and you might never even hear back from your donor’s relatives.’
‘They generally say to leave it for a year before writing to them.’ Tasha joined in.
‘So has your chap written to his donor’s family yet?’ asked Jean; being a journalist, she clearly had a nose for a story.
‘Not yet,’ said Tasha.
Hallie shook her head. ‘Nor me.’
Somehow Tasha managed to pull herself together and resume applying foundation to Hallie’s face. The secret seemed to enclose the two of them in a transparent bubble. Only when Sandra was otherwise occupied and Jean was out on the balcony taking another call did Tasha risk giving Hallie’s shoulder a squeeze and murmuring, ‘This is crazy.’
Hallie said, ‘I know.’
‘We’ll talk when they’ve gone, OK?’
‘OK.’
Then Jean came back in to begin the interview, Tasha carried on with Hallie’s hair and make-up and Sandra began taking test shots. Together they chose the best outfit for the shoot, selecting Hallie’s thin navy top and matching flippy skirt and teaming them with her new fuchsia sandals.
‘I can’t decide between the scarf and the necklaces,’ said Sandra, ‘so we’ll take some shots with each of them, and some without.’
‘I prefer clean lines.’ Jean was blunt. ‘You don’t need accessories. Her face is enough.’
‘I know, but we’d better give the picture editor something to choose from,’ said Sandra, evidently a diplomat.
God, being photographed by a stranger was weird; smiling became unbelievably complicated. Answering Jean’s questions required concentration. Hallie perched beside the window, then sat cross-legged on the king-sized bed and pretended to be typing out replies to people who’d sent their problems in to threethingsaboutyou.com. Finally she submitted to close-ups and sat backwards on a chair with Sandra moving around, getting shots from all angles.
All the time she was willing it to be over . . . Please, that’s enough now, time for the rest of you to leave . . .
Finally it was done. Sandra had taken hundreds of photos. The interview was complete. As she was leaving, Jean said, ‘It’s been wonderful to meet you. We’ll be running the feature at the end of June. And listen.’ Taking a business card from her bag, she handed it over. ‘If you ever do get in touch with your donor’s family, we’d love to do a follow-up piece. Just let me know.’
‘Thanks. It was great to meet you too.’ They shook hands and Jean left. Now Sandra was packing away her equipment. As, very slowly, was Tasha.
‘Oh, I forgot, you wanted me to show you how to put on false lashes.’ Holding up a plastic box, Tasha added brightly, ‘I don’t have to rush off. Shall I give you a lesson now?’
‘Fantastic,’ said Hallie. ‘Let’s do it.’
Sandra, with cases of equipment slung over both shoulders, said a cheery goodbye and let herself out of the hotel room.
And then they were alone.
‘Oh my God, three whole hours.’ Tasha clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘I can’t believe we managed it. I thought I was going to explode.’
‘What’s Rory’s blood group?’ said Hallie, just to double-check.