‘It has been,’ I told him, ‘the best six months of my entire life.’
There was a long silence.
‘Funnily enough, Clark, mine too.’
And then, just like that, my heart broke. My face crumpled, my composure went and I held him tightly and I stopped caring that he could feel the shudder of my sobbing body because grief swamped me. It overwhelmed me and tore at my heart and my stomach and my head and it pulled me under, and I couldn’t bear it. I honestly thought I couldn’t bear it.
‘Don’t, Clark,’ he murmured. I felt his lips on my hair. ‘Oh, please. Don’t. Look at me.’
I screwed my eyes shut and shook my head.
‘Look at me. Please.’
I couldn’t.
‘You’re angry. Please. I don’t want to hurt you or make you –’
‘No … ’ I shook my head again. ‘It’s not that. I don’t want … ’ My cheek was pressed to his chest. ‘I don’t want the last thing you see to be my miserable, blotchy face.’
‘You still don’t get it, Clark, do you?’ I could hear the smile in his voice. ‘It’s not your choice.’
It took some time to regain my composure. I blew my nose, took a long deep breath. Finally, I raised myself on my elbow, and I looked back at him. His eyes, so long strained and unhappy, looked oddly clear and relaxed.
‘You look absolutely beautiful.’
‘Funny.’
‘Come here,’ he said. ‘Right up close to me.’
I lay down again, facing him. I saw the clock above the door and had a sudden sense of time running out. I took his arm and wrapped it tightly around me, threading my own arms and legs around him so that we were tightly entwined. I took his hand – the good one – and wrapped my fingers in his, kissing the knuckles as I felt him squeeze mine. His body was so familiar to me now. I knew it in a way I had never known Patrick’s – its strengths and vulnerabilities, its scars and scents. I placed my face so close to his that his features became indistinct, and I began to lose myself in them. I stroked his hair, his skin, his brow, with my fingertips, tears sliding unchecked down my cheeks, my nose against his, and all the time he watched me silently, studying me intently as if he were storing each molecule of me away. He was already retreating, withdrawing to somewhere I couldn’t reach him.
I kissed him, trying to bring him back. I kissed him and let my lips rest against his so that our breath mingled and the tears from my eyes became salt on his skin, and I told myself that, somewhere, tiny particles of him would become tiny particles of me, ingested, swallowed, alive, perpetual. I wanted to press every bit of me against him. I wanted to will something into him. I wanted to give him every bit of life I felt and force him to live.
I realized I was afraid of living without him. How is it you have the right to destroy my life, I wanted to demand of him, but I’m not allowed a say in yours?
But I had promised.
So I held him, Will Traynor, ex-City whiz kid, ex-stunt diver, sportsman, traveller, lover. I held him close and said nothing, all the while telling him silently that he was loved. Oh, but he was loved.
I couldn’t say how long we stayed like that. I was dimly aware of soft conversation outside, of the shuffle of shoes, a distant church bell ringing in some far-off place. Finally, I felt him loosen a great breath, almost a shudder, and he drew his head back just an inch so that we could see each other clearly.
I blinked at him.
He gave me a small smile, almost an apology.
‘Clark,’ he said, quietly. ‘Can you call my parents in?’
27
CROWN PROSECUTION SERVICE
FAO: Director of Public Prosecutions
Confidential Advisory
Re: William John Traynor
4.9.2009
Detectives have now interviewed everyone involved in the above case, and I attach files containing all related documents accordingly.
The subject at the centre of the investigation is Mr William Traynor, a 35-year-old former partner in the firm Madingley Lewins, based in the City of London. Mr Traynor suffered a spinal injury in a road accident in 2007 and had been diagnosed C5/6 quadriplegic with very limited movement in one arm only, requiring 24-hour care. His medical history is attached.
The papers show that Mr Traynor had been at pains to regularize his legal affairs sometime before his trip to Switzerland. We have been forwarded a signed and witnessed statement of intent by his lawyer, Mr Michael Lawler, as well as copies of all relevant documentation relating to his consultations with the clinic beforehand.
Mr Traynor’s family and friends had all expressed their opposition to his stated desire to end his life prematurely but given his medical history and previous attempts on his own life (detailed in his attached hospital records), his intellect and strength of character, they were apparently unable to dissuade him, even during an extended six-month period which was negotiated with him specifically for this purpose.
It will be noted that one of the beneficiaries of Mr Traynor’s will is his paid female carer, Miss Louisa Clark. Given the limited leng