‘And is it my turn with Alexandra?’ Putting down her iPad, Margot took the baby from her as Bridget handed the magazine over to Flo.
The feature was headed: Three Amazing Things About Hallie.
Several seconds later, Flo exclaimed, ‘Oh my goodness, it’s Dear Rose.’
‘What is?’ Margot glanced over at the double-page spread.
‘This girl. Her name’s Hallie. She’s the one who set up that website. She was always anonymous, remember? Nobody knew who she was.’
‘Of course I remember,’ said Margot. ‘We used to read the problems every week. Then my iPad needed resetting and I lost all the bookmarks to my favourite websites.’
‘She had cystic fibrosis.’ Still reading, skimming through the words, Flo felt her breathing quicken. ‘She had a heart and lung transplant almost a year ago. It saved her life.’
‘Well isn’t that just wonderful? To think the whole time she was helping other people, she was going through all that.’ Ever the multitasker, Margot was holding Alexandra securely with one arm and scrolling through pages on the iPad with her free hand. Within seconds she’d found the same article online and was reading it herself.
‘You don’t think . . .’ Flo knew that Zander had helped a female, but that was the extent of the information she’d received. The recipient had sent a beautiful thank you card to Lena, but as far as she knew, Lena hadn’t replied. And since Lena was the next of kin, there was nothing more she could do about it.
‘Well that’s annoying; it doesn’t say the exact date.’ Margot was ahead of her; she had now found the threethingsaboutyou website and was scrolling back through the entries. Then, abruptly, she stopped. ‘Here it is. Oh sweetheart, look . . .’
Her heart thudding crazily, Flo looked at the entry. Her gaze skittered over the words . . .
I’m twenty-eight, I have cystic fibrosis and I never actually expected to live this long.
The hospital transplant coordinator called two hours ago – they have a new pair of lungs for me.
I’ve never been so scared in my life . . .
. . . Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU to the wonderful family of the donor for giving me this gift, this incredible chance. I hope you know how amazing you are. Your courage, kindness and generosity will always be remembered.
Flo took in the date, although by now she already knew.
Tuesday the twenty-fifth of June.
‘It’s her. It’s her. She’s the one. I can’t believe it. Look at her.’ Breaking into a wobbly smile, Flo studied the photograph in the magazine of a pretty, healthy-looking girl with short dark red hair, huge bright eyes like Bambi and a dazzling smile. She was wearing a dark blue outfit and a striking scarf with splashes of colour like cascading fireworks across a night sky.
At that moment, a thud of recognition hit Flo in the chest. She stared into the brown eyes of the girl in the photograph, then at the scarf once more.
‘Can you go back to the magazine piece?’ she asked Margot.
Margot obliged and handed her the iPad. Flo expanded the photo and stared again. The scarf was inky blue, with explosions of fuchsia, lime green, purple and gold.
It was a one-of-a-kind scarf.
It had cost more than the girl wanted to pay, but she’d been unable to resist, returning to the stall later on that afternoon to buy it.
Flo briefly closed her eyes, conjuring up a mental image of the girl in the wheelchair, with her striking pallor and those deep violet shadows under her eyes, and the plastic tubing delivering oxygen from a cylinder into her poor diseased lungs. Yet despite her obvious ill health, she’d been cheerful, good-natured and likeable. Basically, the kind of person you’d instinctively want to be friends with.
Above the sound of Alexandra’s babbling, Margot leaned across and said, ‘Are you OK, darling?’
Nodding, Flo felt her eyes swim with tears, but for once they were happy tears. ‘I’m fine. I can’t believe we found out this way, but it really does make it better.’
‘She looks lovely. Sounds it, too.’
‘She is,’ said Flo. Wait until she told Patrick about this. ‘And guess what? I’ve already met her.’ Her hand shook slightly as she pointed to the photo. ‘In fact, I sold her that scarf.’
Chapter 57
Dear Rose (yes, I know you’re Hallie, but you’ll always be Rose to me!),
I have an update for you.
You probably won’t remember, but last year I wrote to you with my problem. Basically, I loved my cats but my wonderful boyfriend hated them and wanted me to get rid of them. And you told me he wasn’t a wonderful boyfriend at all.
Well, I cried when I saw your reply, but eventually realised you were right. He couldn’t believe it when I ended our relationship, and the following months were pretty miserable. I will admit that I began to wish I hadn’t done it.