Rose let out a cry of shock. She rocked back on her haunches and collapsed onto the floorboards, holding the envelope. She pulled out the sheet of blue writing paper. It trembled in her fingers.
Even though every word was already imprinted on her heart, she began to read it.
Dear donor,
I hope it’s OK to write to you though I suppose it’s a bit late for that now!:) I’ve written a hundred versions of this letter in my mind but finally I’ve put my thoughts on paper. No words could ever live up to what I want – need – to say, but I have to send one of them before I chicken out.
So this may not be the perfect letter but believe me, I’ve learned to be happy with way less than perfect. My life, my health, is enough and you have given me that precious gift – and the gift of knowing just what it means to be alive.
I may never get to meet you, but quite simply, you have given me my life back. You’ve given me a future and I can never ever thank you enough for that.
You may not realise, fully, what your gift means. I understand if that’s overwhelming for you: it’s not every day we get the chance to save a life. I’m trying not to go over the top here, but it’s almost impossible.
Thanks to you, I got the chance to achieve my dreams and my family had the chance to see me start the career I love. One day, I hope to start my own family and they will also have you to thank, as will my descendants.
I don’t know why you volunteered to go on the donors’ register but I’m so happy and thankful that you did.
I wish you everything you want in life and much more.
Best wishes,
Your Grateful Recipient
x
‘Oh, God. Oh my God …’
Her cheeks were wet and a tear had splashed onto the edge of the letter. Cursing, she scrambled to her feet, and laid the letter on the bed while she found some tissues to wipe her eyes.
Hairdryer … she needed a hairdryer to dry the edge of the paper, but Finn wouldn’t have such a thing. Of course he wouldn’t!
Instead she laid the paper on a chair in the sunlight coming through the balcony window … But she didn’t have time to wait for it to dry. She’d have to put it back, where she found it, this ticking time bomb she’d found hidden in Finn’s house. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice. Likely he never looked at the letter these days – maybe not from the moment he’d read it and sent his reply.
Carefully, Rose folded up the sweater in the way all of the others were folded. She inserted the envelope inside the folds and laid it in the drawer.
It was Finn who had saved her. No doubt … unless …
She found the wastepaper basket and turned it out onto the boards. Finn kept a tidy ship, but it still held a few odd scraps of paper, the champagne wire and cork from a few days before, an envelope from an electric bill. She found what she wanted, put the litter back in the bin and went home in her T-shirt, the autumn chill forgotten.
Oriel pulled open the shop door. ‘Rose! You’re late. I am wetting myself!’
‘Sorry, I was at Finn’s.’
‘Yeah, I worked that one out. Oh my God, I can see the telly people in the car park. Arghh.’
Rose couldn’t have cared less about the telly people or the sword. The knowledge that it was Finn who’d saved her life swept away anything else. All she wanted to do was fly upstairs and do one thing that would make her one hundred per cent certain, but it would have to wait.
Many hours later, Rose locked the door on the world. She’d answered dozens of questions, been interviewed by the regional TV, Radio Cornwall and correspondents from several national newspapers.
Her inbox and Twitter feed were swamped with requests from historical journals, bloggers and podcasters worldwide, all dying to know the story of the ‘girls’ who’d pulled the Roman sword from the lake. Rose could have directed them all to Oriel, but she was even more inundated. She had turned off her phone and was hiding at home, half-wishing she’d ‘never found the bloody thing at all’.
Rose knew it wasn’t true, but she didn’t blame Oriel for being overwhelmed. It had taken every ounce of concentration to get through the day, but now, no one was going to stop her from doing the one thing that really mattered to her.
She took the card from the drawer in her bedroom and laid it out on the bed next to the list she’d found in the wastepaper basket at Finn’s.
The words were mundane enough. Boatbuilding stuff, biscuits, milk, Mum’s dry-cleaning … She smiled briefly. The bottom line brought a lump to her throat.
Nice wine for R.
Like all lists, it was hastily written and yet, when laid side by side with the card, no one could deny that they were both written by the same person. The hand sloping backwards, which when the card had first arrived, Maddie had said meant the writer was reticent, cautious …
She could have compared the writing in her card with Finn’s weeks ago … if she could have got hold of some … but it hadn’t occurred to her. It was a step too far even for her.
Only the discovery of her own letter in Finn’s drawer had changed everything.
She took out her card and read it again.
Glad you’re feeling better.
Good luck in the future,
Wishing you a fair wind and calm seas.
It was so Finn. She’d always known it was. How could it be anyone else but Finn?
The genie was out of the bottle and she had no way of putting it back in.
‘Everything OK?’
Rose glanced up at Finn over the dining table at Curlew Studio. He’d invited her for dinner and cooked sea bass that he’d caught himself, with potatoes and samphire. It was simple and delicious and Rose did her best to eat it but ended up pushing her food around her plate.
‘It’s great but I’m not very hungry. Sorry. It’s been a hell of a day.’
‘I bet. Sounds exciting but it would be my worst nightmare having to give all those interviews. I’m sure you were great, though.’
His sexy grin would have normally been the prelude to whisking him straight off to bed, but Rose’s dread only grew. She had to tell him the truth, no matter what his reaction might be.
She placed her knife and fork side by side across her plate. ‘You know this morning, you said we’d speak later?’
‘We did.’
‘Well, I think now’s the time. There’s something important that I need to tell you.’
He raised an eyebrow and she could tell he still wasn’t expecting her to share anything too momentous. That made her even more jittery.
‘Wow. Should I brace myself?’
‘Actually, yes, it might be a good idea.’
A tiny frown appeared. ‘Is it a bad thing?’
‘No. Not bad.’ She smiled fleetingly, wondering if he suspected she was going to say she was pregnant, though there’d hardly been time for that – and anyway, it wasn’t likely, given the treatment she’d been through. ‘Actually, just the opposite but it might come as a shock.’
‘OK. Hit me.’ He folded his arms. ‘I’m braced.’
‘I … Oh God, this is so difficult. It’s weird and you have to hear me out before you react. You need to hear the context, the background … It’s complicated …’
‘Rose. Rose.’ He took her hands and frowned. ‘You’re cold …’
‘Probably because I’m nervous.’
‘Don’t be. Slow down a little, take a breath.’
‘OK. Here goes. I think – I know – you’re the man who saved my life.’