What now? Lucy answered in a voice that didnt tremble.
How can you say what now? What am I supposed to do?
At least get out of the car, have a look, see if its still alive.
I swallowed a great deal. The courtyard was empty, the night air smelled of burnt metal a scent that seemed to belong to fear itself. I eased the door open, and without stepping out I leaned forward, peering underneath the boot. And there it was: it lived. A small grey bundle, shivering, its eyes wide open.
Its alive, Lucy. Its alive What now?
What do you mean what now? Take it to the clinic. Youre heading there anyway. Come on, hurry!
I lifted the cat gentlyit didnt resist, just lay there, breathing hard. I set it on the back seat, inside a cardboard box that lay on the floor. Then I was off.
The clinic was supposed to be only half an hour away. Usually. Not on that day. That day stretched as if time itself had decided to forget its own rhythm, and the thirty minutes grew into eternity.
In the boot a dog already lay. An old mixedbreed, a victim of a railway accident. My holidaygoing neighbours had begged me to take it to the vet let them put it out of its misery, please, theyd said. A stray, unwanted by anyone, but we felt sorry for it. I drove in, as if on autopilot.
And now this cat, too.
I sped down the lane like a frantic rider, the only thought in my head:
What a day what a life?
At the clinic, to my surprise, there was no queue. I burst through the doors with the box, as if I were delivering my wife to labour the surgeon snatched it from me and whisked it into the examination room.
Whats happened to it? How is it? I panted outside the door.
Well do an Xray straight away the assistant nodded. It looks nothing serious, but well make sure.
Fifteen minutes. An eternity. The clocks seemed to stall, playing a joke on me. I paced the waiting room, stared at the ceiling, the windows, the posters of British Shorthairs and Maine Coons
Inside me something buzzed. Not simple worry shame, guilt. I hadnt noticed. I shouldnt have driven so fast. So many things could have gone differently. The tiny, helpless creature had stepped onto the road a second too late, and I was busy trying to locate the clinics side entrance. And that was it. One instant. A fateful clickand I was there, throat tight, begging silently: Just let it live. Let me fix this
Finally the doctor emerged.
It needs surgery
Then I rememberedthe dog was still in the boot!
I turned back. Silence. No whimper. No movement. I pressed the release; the boot lid creaked open slowly.
Two terrified eyes stared at me from the darkness. It was alive.
Hey I whispered. Sorry well sort this out straight away.
I raced back to the clinic, caught up with the surgeona stern woman with a dry stare.
Theres another dog in the boot. Railwayhit, hind legs
Theyve already called us to put it down they said theres no chance.
I faltered, the words caught in my throat. Her face stayed unmoved. She lifted a coat from her cloak, and we walked back together.
We pried open the boot. She glanced at the dog, then at me. Her eyes suddenly pierced like an Xray beam.
Have you lost your mind? Who told you it must be put to sleep? Yes, its legs wont heal. But it can live. Weve rescued worse. Bring it in.
I nodded again. I didnt argue. The doctor said, It will live. That was enough.
That night I slammed the front door of the house. Lucy turned from the kitchen, eyes wide.
Whats happened to you, Tom?
Wordless, I slipped into the bedroom, fetched an old diary in which I had once hidden a few notes. A dream. A motorbike. It no longer mattered.
Tom?! Whats going on?
Theyll live! I shouted. Both of them!
Who? Have you gone mad?
Ill explain later!
We kept them. The cat we named Molly. The dog became Raja. Together we endured everything: dripinfusions, sleepless nights, physiotherapy.
Lucy finally said,
If theyre with us, well make it work.
And we did. She fed Molly with love, bandaged Rajas wounds. We wept when Molly first took a tentative step, we laughed as Raja, now in a little wheelchair, zipped around the garden.
Five years passed. They werent just pets. They were family.
When I came home today, the scent of fresh biscuits welcomed me. Lucy wrapped me in a tight hug from behind, then began to tremble.
Whats happening? I asked, turning to her.
Well be prosperous she whispered, hand resting on her belly.
At first I didnt understand. Then I understood.
Im forty now. Shes thirtyseven. Wed tried for years, almost giving up. Then a strange woman once told us:
Youll have three children. Two gifts from nature. One a blessing from God. For kindness, for patience. The road will be hard, but it will be bright.
Molly curled up, asleep beside a plush rabbit on the windowsill. Raja, older now, shuffled over, rested his head on my leg, and sighed a deep breath.
I didnt believe it then. NowI believe.
Because once we said yes to life. And life answered us with a quiet yes.
