The Vine (16 page)

I also take my Tiffany necklace and bracelet that my mum and dad had bought me, and although it pains me not to be taking them with me, I am also leaving them with Katy, but they aren’t for her.
In her note, it tells her that they are to be placed in Luke’s coffin with him, so even though I’m not there with him, he’d feel like I am.

I write a quick note for George, telling him that I’m fine and to not worry unnecessarily, and then I write the hardest letter of all—Luke’s. I take all I need downstairs, and when I hear a tap at the door, I’m relieved the taxi’s here. Now that I’ve decided what I am doing, I need to get on with it before I change my mind. I open the door and the taxi driver takes my holdall from me, and while he takes it to place in the boot, I walk over to the kitchen counter and take the last bits I need—my plane ticket to Verona and my passport.

I grab both tickets, as I don’t want anyone catching on to what my plans are, and with that, I walk out, shut the door and get into the taxi. I tell the driver which airport I need to go to, but I also tell him I first need to go to London Royal Free Hospital, and he’s to wait for me no matter how long I am gone, and that he’s not to worry, as I’d cover the cost and I’d also throw in an extra hundred pounds for him to never mention this journey ever took place, needless to say he was more than willing.

So in the early hours of the morning, I set off for the hospital so I can somehow say my farewells to Luke before he passes, and then I will fly to Verona to start a quiet, non-existent life as Ella. I’d love to use Castle as my surname, but it’s too painful, so I settle for Castel. As I reach the hospital, I have butterflies, so I know Ella isn’t completely in control yet; plus, I will always be Lizzy in Luke’s presence.

I go up to the unit I know Luke is on and approach one of the nurses, explaining I really hadn’t been in a fit state earlier to see Luke, but I’d really like to see him now, and I promise I will only stay a couple of minutes. The nurse is not happy when she says, “He’s gravely ill, Miss Maynard, and I really shouldn’t let you in there.”

“I do understand, but I really need to see him…please,” I say, putting on my best puppy dog eyes. In fact, Katy would have been proud.

“I really shouldn’t, but okay. Just a couple of minutes,” she replies.

“Thank you so much,” I say as I turn toward Luke’s room.

Just as I get to his door, I take a deep breath before I pull the handle. As I enter, I immediately turn into his Lizzy—the girl he’s crazy about, the girl he loves more than life itself—and to me, seeing him lying there swollen and battered, he’s still my beautiful man.

I really need to do this before I change my mind, as there’s no way I can go through someone I love dying again, and if I’m here when he eventually does go, I’m as sure as the grass is green I wouldn’t survive this time. So as crazy as my plan seems, it’s something that I have to do.

I sit on Luke’s bed and look at him, and then I take his limp, lifeless hand in mine before I start to tell him what I have come here to say—to talk to him one last time, from my heart to his, before he goes to heaven to meet with my mum and dad. I have always wished they could’ve met, but not like this. Who would’ve imagined yesterday I’d be having to hold my beautiful man’s hand with his face full of tubes and in a room full of machines, when in a few hours, we should have been holding hands in an aeroplane, on our way for a romantic adventure in Italy.

I sigh, lift Luke’s hand to my mouth and brush my lips across his knuckles in a gentle, loving, tender kiss. “Hey, my beautiful man,” I say with the tiniest smile playing on my lips, thinking of yesterday morning when Luke found out that’s what I call him and he teased me. “Looks like you had a rough day yesterday,” I continue, but a small sob breaks through. I catch my breath, pulling myself together. It’s bad enough I am going to leave him after this, so I at least owe Luke the honour of getting through this without breaking down.

“I love you so much, my darling man, and the good thing for me is that you know just how much I love you. I know just how much you love me too, and that is why this goddamn situation is
so awful. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and the last six months have truly been the best of my life, with happy times I never thought I’d have again.” I take a deep breath when I feel the knot in my throat trying to cut off my words, but I need to finish what I have to say.

“You will always be ‘The One’ for me, and I can faithfully promise you that there will never be anyone else for me…
ever
. I know people will say I shouldn’t promise things like that, because even in death, you would still want me to be happy. But I honestly think they’d be wrong; I don’t think that would be the case with you, as I know you would be jealous as hell.” I smile at him, and then carry on, losing it slightly, “I don’t want
anyone else! I can’t breathe without you!
” I shout this last part in anger at this cruel situation.

After a couple of minutes trying to regain my composure, I tell him, “You taught me so much—to love again, to trust again—and I also think I taught you a lot too, especially about yourself, although I’m sure you would never admit it. Our lives changed forever yesterday. You have been cruelly taken from me, and it’s just not fair. We still have so much to give one another. This is so hard for me, baby, but I know you are the one person who shouldn’t, but will totally understand why I can’t stay here to watch you die. It might seem selfish to other people, but I can’t go through this loss again. I just can’t, and especially not you.

“I know this time I wouldn’t survive it. When you take your last breath, and when your heart beats for the last time, how could I watch and not wish I was going with you? In my head, of course, that was my first option, my only option—that I take my own life so we can still be together—but the only thing stopping me is the thought of you, my mum and my dad being disappointed in me. I couldn’t bear for you to look at me with anything but love in those big blue eyes. I need you with me, Luke.” I’m openly crying now. Tears are falling down my cheeks and landing on his hand that I still hold, resting in my lap.

“I need your arms around me, protecting me forever, just like you promised. I know even in death you’ll shine down on me and watch over me, because I know you would never break a promise to me. The only way I know I will survive this is if I go away and live another life as another person. I’ll be a person who survives purely to make you proud of me, but I can promise you this—never will another man be close to me again, especially the way you were, mind, body and soul.”

The door opens, and the nurse pops her head in. “You really need to leave now, Miss.” She must notice my tears as I receive her best pitiful smile.

“Okay,” I sniffle, “I’ll just say goodbye.”

The nurse nods and retreats quietly, shutting the door. I look back at Luke. “So this is my goodbye to you, my beautiful man, and I know this is just how you would have wanted my goodbye to be—intimate, just you and me, and on our own with no prying eyes. I know people will think I’m callous leaving you before you go, but I know that you won’t. I know you’d understand, and plus, I haven’t left you; I’m just going to wait until my time comes, so I can be with you again.

“I’ve lost my leading man, but you will always be my hero, and forever in my heart. I love you so much, baby.” I place Luke’s hand on my chest, over my broken, beating heart, and then I gently place it back down on the bed. I lean over and kiss his lips gently, and a tear rolls down my cheek and drops onto his. “See you on the other side” I whisper, as I shakily stand.

I walk to the door and open it; I vowed not to, but I have to, so I turn back one last time before I walk out the door and out of my beautiful man’s life for good. As I close the door behind me, I lean back against it as I try to catch my breath in between the sobs that are trying to burst out through my chest. And then I run. I run as fast as I can to my awaiting taxi before I can change my mind.

Back in Luke’s room sits the box containing the Louboutin heels, and Katy’s letter containing the necklace and bracelet. On
Luke’s bed is the indent of where I sat. Unbeknown to me, as I sit sobbing in the back of my taxi on the way to the airport, my heart totally obliterated, Luke’s hand is on the bed moving slowly about, frantically and desperately trying to find mine, as his own tear meets the one of mine on his cheek.

When the taxi drops me at the airport, I know I pay him, but I’m not aware of much else. I am totally numb, and exhausted from crying. Thank God the taxi driver does the right thing and just leaves me alone. He catches my eye every now and then in the rear-view mirror, but he says nothing. I pay him and he hands me my bag, but I can’t even thank him. I have nothing to say.

I know that I’m doing the right thing for my own wellbeing and sanity—well, maybe I don’t know for sure, but I certainly think I’m doing what is best, even though the pain in my chest is telling me otherwise. How can doing something so wrong be the right thing to do? But I just know I have to go. I feel immense guilt, and I’m hurting so badly from my loss. I can’t talk, I’m barely breathing, for goodness sake and at this moment in time, it’s all I can do to put one foot in front of the other whilst carrying my bag.

I queue, and I hand my ticket and passport over; my bag goes through, and I walk away still mute, even to the overly-smiley, polite, chatty stewardess. She soon gives up when she gets no response from me. I can’t even feel bad about how rude I must seem. Nothing matters. I’m not aware of anything except the constant searing pain in my chest.

As I go to sit down in one of the only free chairs, I notice there is a takeaway McDonald’s bag on it. I pick it up, but don’t see a
bin. I sit down still holding it, as I know my legs could give way at any minute. As I sit looking at it, I have an idea. I pull my mobile phone out of my bag, I make sure it’s switched off and place it in the McDonald’s bag. I sit waiting until I see a man pushing his trolley around collecting rubbish, and I walk over to him, give him a brief smile and throw the bag into his trolley.

I sit back in my seat until I eventually hear the announcement that I now need to board my flight. It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours—I don’t know, as time doesn’t matter, and to top it all off, I feel as sick as a dog; the churning in my stomach is so bad.

I stand in a queue, waiting to board the aeroplane amongst excitable tourists, gorgeous Italian men and women going home and stern businessmen who just want to board quickly and get to Italy, probably for more meetings. I board the aircraft, I find my seat, I place my handbag under the seat in front of me and I fasten my seatbelt. This is all I can manage, one mundane, trivial, meaningless thing at a time.

I sit back in my seat; I lay my head back, but turn it to the side so I can look out the window. Watching as the aeroplane makes its way slowly to the runway, when it gets there, it stops briefly before I hear the engines fire up fully and it heads down the runway, getting faster and faster before I feel the nose of the aircraft tip up and we take off. The tears silently fall down my cheeks as I think of what I have lost; he’s actually gone, and now, so am I. I vow not to, but eventually I bravely look at the empty seat next to me, and I think of how my beautiful man should be sitting there looking back at me, with his gorgeous, blue, smiling eyes shining with happiness as they always did when he looked at me.

He would have probably been dressed in linen trousers, and have the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. I always used to laugh about that and ask him why he didn’t just wear a short-sleeved shirt instead, but he would always just smile at me and shake his head as if I just really wouldn’t understand. I wasn’t one to tell
him how to dress; I didn’t need to—he always looked immaculate and perfectly groomed anyway. Luke would have sat here next to me with his fingers laced through mine during the whole flight, frowning if I had to break contact to use the toilet.

At some point during the flight, I would have leaned on his shoulder, he would have put his arm around me and I would have probably dozed off. I can feel a slight smile tug on my lips at these thoughts of Luke and what could have been, running through my mind. I can visualise him so clearly I can almost feel his presence. But as I blink, I see the chair that my beautiful man should be sitting in is indeed empty, and it hits me like a brick as I turn back to the window and sob. The tears have returned, but this time they are relentless, and it is so sudden, and they are so intense they knock me out of the daze I was in.

The reality of what’s happened in the last twenty-four hours hits me, and as the gut-wrenching sobs leave my body, I am struggling to breathe. I try to catch my breath in-between each sob. I suddenly become aware of my surroundings for the first time since Katy came to the house to deliver the most horrendous, life-changing news that I could ever hear; if she ever wanted to rock my world, she did it with that one visit. Things start to come back to me in flashes, making me relive moments all over again—being at the hospital, listening to the consultant basically telling us Luke wasn’t going to make it and my life at that moment feeling like it was ending itself. I recall Luke’s mum in tears, Smyth holding me, Cole in absolute bits as I had never seen him before and Katy, along with Luke’s dad, trying to hold it all together for everyone else’s sake.

I remember needing to get out of there, shouting at Katy, then being in Luke’s house with all my thoughts and memories. I remember deciding on the course of action I needed to take to survive, writing Luke, Katy and George’s letters, going to the hospital and seeing Luke—my beautiful, gorgeous, handsome, sexy, wonderful man, who cherished and worshiped me, and I him. I see myself talking to him and explaining things to him that I knew he’d understand.

Then I was in the taxi, and I suddenly remembered I’d called Jett, giving him some instructions for a funeral that I couldn’t attend and telling him to phone Katy for all the details. He had barely been able to hear me with the mouse-like monotone I was speaking in. I realise now, as I think back to it, he was clearly at one of his gigs with all the background noise there was around, and bless him for answering my call, even though he had been busy. Yet I’d been so curt and abrupt to him. He didn’t deserve that; I hope when he rings Katy and gets all the details of what I had been trying to explain to him he will forgive me.