What now? Lucy answered, her voice flat as a stone.
How can you say what now? What am I supposed to do?
At least get out of the car, look under it, see if its still breathing.
I swallowed hard. The courtyard was empty, the night exhaled a hot, metallic scentthe sort of smell that belongs to fear. I eased the door open and, without stepping out, leaned forward enough to peer beneath the chassis. There it was: a tiny grey knot, trembling, eyes wide open.
Its alive, Lucy. Its alive What now?
What now? Take it to the vet. Youre heading that way anyway. Hurry!
I lifted the cat gently it didnt fight, just lay there, breathing shallowly. I placed it on the back seat, inside an old shoe box that had been sitting on the floor. Then I was off.
The clinic was supposed to be a halfhour away. Usually. Not on this night. This night stretched like a memory you can never shake, and those thirty minutes grew into forever.
In the boot a dog lay already. A mangy mix, hit by a train. My holidayweekend companions had begged me to bring it in let them put it out of its misery, dont let it suffer any longer, theyd said. It was a stray, nobody claimed, but we felt sorry for it. I went in, almost on autopilot.
And now this cat too.
I hurtled along the road as if possessed, the only thought humming in my head:
What kind of day is this? What kind of life?
At the veterinary hospital, oddly, there was no queue. I burst through the doors with the box as if I were delivering my wife in labour; the doctor snatched it up and ushered it into the exam room.
Whats wrong with it? Hows it? I stammered at the doorway.
Well do an Xray straight away the assistant nodded. It looks nothing serious, but well doublecheck.
Fifteen minutes. An eternity. The clock seemed to mock me, its hands freezing. I paced roundandround, staring at the ceiling, the windows, the posters of British Shorthairs and Maine Coons
Inside, something churned. Not just worry shame, guilt. I hadnt noticed. I shouldnt have raced off so fast. So many things could have been different. The tiny, helpless creature had only just stepped onto the road a second later, and I was thinking about which turn would lead to the clinic. That was all. One breath. A fateful clickand I was there, throat tight, pleading with myself: Just let it live. Just let me fix this.
At last the vet emerged.
It needs surgery
Then it hit me the dog was still in the car!
I turned back. Silence. No whimper. No movement. I pressed the release; the boot creaked open slowly.
Two terrified eyes stared at me from the gloom. It was alive.
Hey I whispered. Sorry well sort this out soon.
I raced back to the clinic, grabbed the doctora stern, dryeyed woman.
Theres another dog in the boot. Hit by a train, its hind legs
Theyve already called us to put it down they said it had no chance.
I froze, words dying on my tongue. Her face stayed unmoving. She lifted her coat, slung it over her shoulders, and followed me.
We pried open the boot. She looked at the dog, then at me. Her eyes cut through me like an Xray beam.
Have you gone mad? Who told you it must be put to sleep? Yes, its legs wont heal. But it can live. Weve brought in worse. Bring it in.
I nodded again. I didnt argue. The vet said, It will live. That was enough.
That evening I slammed the door of my flat. Lucy turned from the stove, eyes wide.
Whats wrong with you, Tom?
Wordless, I slipped into my bedroom, pulled out the old ledger I used to hide cash between its pages. A dream. A motorbike. It no longer mattered.
Tom?! Whats happening?
Theyll live! I shouted. Both of them!
Who? Have you lost your mind?
Ill explain later!
We kept them. The cat we named Molly. The dog we called Rex. We endured everything together: drips, sleepless nights, physiotherapy.
Lucy finally said,
If theyre here, well figure it out.
And we did. She fed Molly, bandaged Rex. We wept when Molly took her first wobbly steps. We laughed as Rex, in a little wheelchair, zipped across the garden.
Five years slipped by. They werent just pets. They were family.
When I finally got home today, the smell of fresh biscuits welcomed me. Lucy wrapped me from behind, tight, then began to tremble.
Whats happening? I asked, turning to her.
Well be prosperous she whispered, hand on her belly.
At first I didnt understand. Then I understood.
Im forty. Shes thirtyseven. We tried for ages. We were almost broken. Almost. Then a strange woman 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. Rex, now old, shuffled over, leaned against my leg, and let out a deep sigh.
I didnt believe it then. NowI believe.
Because once we said yes to life. And life answered back, yes.