Love Islands…The Collection. Jane Porter

      Lily watched the man’s lips move. Words came out, she could hear them, recognise them, but the words seemed disjointed, nothing he was saying made sense because this wasn’t happening. She put down the full teacup, the contents cold, and turned her head to look through the glass partition where Emmy was sitting up in bed. She was wearing her favourite pyjamas and giggling as her grandmother pretended to search for the toy she clutched in her chubby little hands—it was one of her favourite games.

      The emotion swelled in Lily’s chest, the ache so intense that it drew a rasping sigh from her pale lips. This couldn’t be happening. Emmy was too little, too... It was not fair!

      Life isn’t fair, said the unsympathetic voice in her head.

      ‘Are there any questions you would like to ask me?’

      Lily slowly turned her head; she felt weirdly frozen inside. ‘Are you sure? Could there be a mistake? Results can get mixed up.’ The magazines were always full of such stories. Hope flared and died in her eyes as the doctor, firm but sympathetic, put a hand on her shoulder.

      ‘Your daughter is a very poorly little girl.’

      Lily bit her lip, drawing blood but not noticing the metallic coppery taste on her tongue. ‘But I’d have noticed.’ Should have noticed. The guilt was there; it never went away. Her job as a mother was to protect...and she hadn’t.

      ‘This is not your fault.’

      ‘Then whose fault is it?’ she hissed, anger flaring then fizzling like cold ashes as he responded.

      ‘Nobody’s fault. The onset is notoriously insidious—the symptoms are often missed at this stage by professionals. Your GP did well to pick them up when he did, which puts us in a good position.’

      Lily seized eagerly onto his words. ‘It does?’

      ‘At this stage ninety-five per cent of children go into remission following a bone-marrow transplant.’

      Hope fluttered inside her skull. ‘So bone marrow is a cure?’

      ‘I don’t want to raise your hopes.’

      Too late, she thought, fighting a mixture of frustration and trepidation as he consulted the tablet he held.

      A bunch of figures that spelt out her baby’s future.

      The man laid the tablet aside and removed his glasses. ‘Though the number of bone-marrow donors have increased over recent years...’

      Anticipating the but, Lily rushed into speech. ‘She can have mine, can’t she?’ She laid her arm on the table and began to roll up her sleeve. ‘Take what you like.’

      ‘It doesn’t work like that, I’m afraid,’ the man said gently. ‘I don’t want to be negative, but the fact is that your daughter has an extremely rare blood group.’

      Lily closed her eyes and released a low sigh as she finally realised where he was going. ‘And I don’t.’

      ‘I have already discussed the subject of compatibility with your mother. She was unsure of the situation, Emily’s father...paternal relatives. It is a relatively minor procedure for the donor though there is some discomfort involved.’

      Lily surged to her feet feeling the first fluttering of real hope. ‘Her father, he’ll do it.’

      The doctor gave a cautious smile and reminded gently, ‘He’ll need to be tested.’

      She tilted her head again. ‘He’ll do it?’ She heard the question in her own voice and from his questioning expression so did the doctor. ‘He’ll want to.’

       And if he didn’t?

      She pushed the question away, she had to, because the other option... Her thoughts came up against the self-protective wall she had erected and bounced back.

      Back on the ward, Lily gave an edited version of what the doctor had told her to her mother. They spoke softly because Emmy had fallen asleep, her thumb in her mouth. Looking at her made Lily’s heart ache. That anyone so innocent should suffer...it seemed so wrong.

      Elizabeth sat there in silence during Lily’s halting delivery and then, with a hand pressed to her mouth, rushed from the room.

      Lily found her a few moments later in the corridor, red-faced, but calm. ‘This is the last thing you need. I’m sorry I didn’t want Emmy to see... How are you, darling?’ She held out her arms.

      After a few moments Lily pulled free of the warm maternal embrace. ‘I’m fine.’ Empty was a better description, empty but for the sense of purpose that she focused on with tunnel-like determination.

      ‘I have to leave, Mum.’

      ‘But why? To go where?’

      ‘I’ll explain later, but I’ll be back soon, I promise, and you have to go home for some sleep when I do.’ She kissed her mother’s smooth cheek. ‘You look exhausted.’

      ‘It’s not me I’m worried about.’

      Lily’s voice thickened. ‘Have I said thank you for being there...for everything...?’

      ‘What you don’t seem to realise is that what you’d do for Emmy I would do for you. You’re still my little girl.’

      There were tears in Lily’s eyes as she walked down the corridor. She dabbed at them impatiently and reminded herself there was hope. Outside it had begun to drizzle. Standing on the wet pavement, she fished out the phone Ben had given her and pressed the dial key. He picked up almost straight away.

      ‘Ben, it’s Lily, could you—?’

      She stopped as a long limo drew up beside her, a window swished down and Ben, phone to his ear, leaned out.

      Lily laughed. She hadn’t really believed he was going to drive around the block.

      ‘Need a lift?’

      She nodded and the door swung open.

      ‘Where to?’ He studied her face and watched a single tear slide down her cheek, then another. He felt as if someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. ‘Oh, baby!’ He reached for her and she drew back, a hand extended to ward him off.

      ‘Do not touch me...don’t!’ she quivered out.

      He stiffened.

      ‘It’s not you, it’s me...if you touch me I’ll start crying and I don’t think I’ll be able to stop!’ she wailed.

      He touched a teardrop on her cheek with his thumb. ‘You’re already crying.’

      With a sob she flung herself at him. Ben looked down at the fiery head pressed to his chest. After a pause his arms went around her and he let her cry herself out while he signalled the driver to carry on driving.

      Embarrassed by her outburst and ashamed of her weakness, she finally pulled away. ‘I must look terrible.’

      ‘You look...’ He stopped, an odd expression spreading across his face before he said abruptly, ‘Fine. So...?’

      He was prepared for the worst. He had been from the moment she had slid into the car emanating the sort of tension that did not say good news. And then she had started crying. He had never heard sobs like that before. They seemed to have been dragged from deep inside her. The sense of helplessness he had felt remained, a cold knot in his gut. He had dated beautiful women, women who were well groomed and elegant, and yet as he looked at Lily sitting there, her tear-stained face bare of all make-up,