Num8ers - By Rachel Ward Page 0,88

getting on, and then I’ll be back. I’ll bring Dawson back here.”

So it was going to be a few hours, then. Nothing I could do about that.

They gathered their stuff together, clipped their briefcases shut, and were gone. On the way out, they shook hands with me, like we were business partners or something. That’s a good sign, I thought. They’re showing that they’ve made a deal with me. I had to trust them now — what else could I do?

By now it was lunchtime and Anne, the rector’s wife, had brought me some scrambled eggs on toast, kept warm under a wrapping of silver foil. She didn’t eat with me, but kind of hung around, like she was waiting for something. Eventually, she squeezed some words out awkwardly.

“Jem, can I talk to you?”

I shrugged. Didn’t bother me one way or the other.

She went up to the door and closed it, so that we were alone together in the vestry, just me and her. She wants to persuade me to leave, I’m causing her husband too much trouble, I thought. But I was wrong.

“They’re saying…they’re saying that you can tell when people are going to die.” Her face was creased into a frown as she searched my face.

I tried not to look, but I couldn’t avoid her eyes, her need for contact was too strong. 06082011.

“Oh?” I said, willing her not to ask me.

“I’m ill, Jem. I’ve got an illness. I haven’t told Stephen, so please…don’t…”

Hearing her speak the rector’s — her husband’s — name made him more human; made me think I might have been wrong about him earlier. Yes, he was going to live for another thirty years or so, but maybe he wasn’t going to be spoiled for the rest of his life. Maybe it was going to be lonely nights, takeout and boiled eggs on his own in an empty house.

“The thing is…I need to know. How long I’ve got. So I can plan things, make sure the children are OK, make sure that Stephen will be all right.”

“Children?” Another shock.

“Well, they’re pretty grown-up now. Nineteen and twenty-two. But I want to make sure they’re well set, try and pay up the college debts, you know.” She must have realized that I didn’t, because she laughed nervously. “Well, perhaps you don’t, but I’ll feel happier if there aren’t any loose ends. Happier…not happy…” She trailed off.

“I can’t tell you. It wouldn’t be right.”

“You do know, though.”

I chewed my lip.

“You do know,” she repeated. “I shouldn’t feel so scared, should I? ‘In the true and certain knowledge of eternal life’…” There were tears in the corners of her eyes now, threatening to burst out and trickle down her face. “Why isn’t that a comfort?”

I was the last person to ask about that. She sat, lost in her own thoughts for a bit. Suddenly, I thought of Britney, how her family had come to terms with her brother’s illness.

“I think you should tell him,” I said.

“Stephen?”

I nodded.

“I know. I’ve put it off. For a start, while it’s still a secret, it doesn’t seem so real. Sometimes I can pretend it’s not happening, for an hour or so — well, for a few minutes. And then, the other thing is — it will break his heart.” Her voice quavered. “I know he’s a bit pompous — severe, even — but we’ve been so strong together; a good team. How on earth will he cope without me?” The tears were coming for real now, and she leaned forward and held her hankie tight against her eyes, like she was trying to force the tears to stay inside.

I waited until she stopped and was sitting up again.

“I’m sorry I can’t help,” I said. And I was, I really was. I felt completely useless.

“Oh, but you have, Jem, you have. Just telling you has made it easier to face. It’s given me the courage.” She grabbed my hands, and I fought the urge to snatch them away. I couldn’t say anything. I just wanted her to let go, to take her pain away from me. After a while, she did. She stood up, smoothed down her skirt, and shook her head, like she was shaking away the despair. She went to open the door. “Thank you, Jem. God bless you.”

As far as I could see, I hadn’t done anything. When she’d started crying, it had been dead embarrassing, but it had also been difficult not to join in. Her tears at the