Heart of Bone: A gripping novel of psychological suspense, page 10
Relief hit Greer. It might be selfish, but she wanted to be the only one allowed to hear Tom’s heart.
CHAPTER 33
The following day, Greer rose early. She couldn’t wait to drive back to Birmingham. Nathan might contact her today, ask her to visit, and she needed to be close by.
By eleven am, she arrived at the hotel she’d booked. Her room was small, but well-furnished and clean, and came with a microwave, kettle and hotplate. Greer unpacked her suitcases; she’d brought more stuff this time, including Tom’s sweatshirt. All she needed to do now was to buy groceries.
Back in the tiny kitchen area, Greer made herself a sandwich and a mug of coffee, one eye on her mobile phone. Would Nathan contact her today? So much remained for them to discuss; she’d still only scratched the surface of the man who’d received Tom’s heart. They had time, though.
But did they? Nathan’s remark about the ongoing risk of organ rejection—that was downright scary. The slab of chocolate cake he’d devoured—hadn’t any of the cardiac team advised him about healthy eating? Greer made a mental note to raise the issue with Nathan, because obviously Isla hadn’t bothered. In the meantime, there was much she could do to help. For one, educate herself about the after-care requirements following a heart transplant. Maybe Nathan had been too woozy post-surgery to understand the advice he’d been given, and Greer refused to count on Isla. The less she, and Nathan, saw of that woman, the better.
Greer retrieved her laptop and opened up her browser, typing ‘immunosuppressant drugs’ into the search engine. The large number of serious side effects such medication entailed made for disturbing reading. Nathan, it seemed, wouldn’t be home and dry health-wise even if his body didn’t reject Tom’s heart. From what she could glean, he’d be at risk from the common cold. His bones might grow brittle. His kidneys would be vulnerable to problems. Greer read several more articles, each more alarming than the last. Not good.
Just as she was about to make another coffee, a link at the bottom of the page caught her eye. ‘Cellular Memory—True or False?’ How intriguing. Greer clicked on it.
Fascinating. She’d never heard of such a thing, but many people, scientists included, believed in cellular memory or conceded that it might exist. The theory was that every cell in the body stored memories, not just the brain. As a result, some transplant patients took on traits of the donor. Strange things happened; the living adopted the characteristics of the dead: their food preferences, their music choices, etc. Meat-eaters became vegetarians. Folk fans switched to jazz. Only a few cases documented the phenomenon; most transplant patients either hadn’t experienced the issue or chose not to speak about it. The latter, most likely. Maybe they feared ridicule. Or being declared mentally ill.
The possibilities were dizzying. Incredible. If cellular memory was real, Greer’s relationship with Nathan might skyrocket to a whole different level. Time to investigate further.
She found various YouTube videos in which organ recipients spoke of their experiences. A woman told how, pre-transplant, she’d loathed curry. Now the staff at her local Indian takeaway knew her by name; lamb bhuna with a side of mushroom rice was her regular Friday night order. On further investigation, she discovered the donor of her heart had loved spicy food.
In another, a man described his inexplicable urge to play the piano, despite having no previous musical training. When his fingers hit the keyboard, his level of skill astounded everyone. The man who donated his heart to him had been a keen amateur pianist.
Most fascinating of all was the account of a young boy who suffered horrific nightmares following his surgery. He described the sounds of screeching tyres, of metal crashing into metal, of flames erupting in front of him. Further enquiries revealed that the donor of his heart died not long after a multi-car collision.
Greer needed to find out more, and quickly. She ordered a book on cellular memory, called ‘Outside the Brain’ by Dr Thomas Webb. Dr Webb was an American surgeon who’d performed countless heart transplants, and the book concentrated on his conversations with the recipients. The ‘next-day delivery’ option was a straightforward decision, because even that was too long to wait.
Greer stepped away from her laptop to fill the kettle, her mind reeling. Cellular memory might happen with Nathan, and wouldn’t that be incredible? In fact, what if it already had? Take Nathan forking chocolate cake into his mouth the other day. Her Tom had adored the stuff, despite his addiction to the gym and healthy living.
Was it possible? Could a miracle be about to happen?
Greer grabbed Tom’s sweatshirt, held it against her nose, and breathed him in.
She was going to get her darling boy back. For good this time.
That meant a temporary halt to finding the man who’d broken her beautiful son’s heart. Greer hadn’t forgotten her vow. First things first, though. She’d establish a firm relationship with Nathan, and then she’d seek her revenge.
As the saying went, it was a dish best eaten cold.
CHAPTER 34
Greer drummed her fingertips across the table as she waited for Nathan. He’d messaged her the previous evening to suggest they meet for lunch. The place he’d chosen was an upmarket bistro, all leather banquettes, subdued lighting and soft music. The prices on the menu had made Greer blink with shock. She glanced at her watch; Nathan was already ten minutes late.
Panic clutched at Greer. Had his new heart given out? Might he have collapsed on the floor, unable to reach for his phone? Should she rush round to check?
She couldn’t lose someone else from her life. Hadn’t she suffered enough?
The door to the bistro opened, and Nathan strode through, his gaze falling immediately on Greer. He walked over and seated himself opposite her. ‘What do you think of this place? Pretty swanky, isn’t it?’
No apology for being late, or even a greeting. She mustn’t be petty. He was here, along with Tom’s heart, and that was the most important thing. Greer forced a smile. ‘It looks lovely. So does the food.’
‘I’ve eaten here many times. You can’t go wrong, no matter what you choose.’ Nathan picked up the menu and perused it. While he did, Greer studied him. He appeared healthy enough; his skin was a good colour and the dark circles around his eyes had faded.
He really did look familiar. Had she seen him before? Or was her imagination playing tricks on her?
Greer caught a whiff of his cologne as he shifted in his seat. It didn’t smell cheap. The iPhone he laid on the table looked brand-new. She reached out a hand to finger his shirt, ignoring the surprise on Nathan’s face. Egyptian cotton, of the best quality, and so soft. Nathan was clearly a man who appreciated the finer things in life.
‘Steak and chips for me,’ Nathan said. ‘What about you?’
Should he be eating all that saturated fat? Almost certainly not. Later, perhaps, once they knew each other better, she’d discuss his food choices with him. As things stood, it was still early days between them. Best not to rock the proverbial boat. ‘I’ll have the coq au vin.’
A server appeared at their table. ‘Hello there. What would you like to eat today?’
Before Greer could say anything, Nathan had ordered for both of them. ‘And a bottle of your best red. Have you got—’ He mentioned a particular French label and vintage. Greer knew nothing about wine and cared even less. It sounded expensive, though.
The server moved away, and Nathan turned his attention to Greer again. ‘Mum’s not happy that I’m here today. I probably shouldn’t have told her. You’d think I’d know better.’
Oh, the sweet prickle of schadenfreude. Isla’s son was obviously under no illusions about her. ‘Your transplant hasn’t brought you closer, it seems.’
‘She fusses over me too much. A right old smother mother, if you know what I mean.’
Back off, Mum, you’re suffocating me. Tom’s words, spoken a few weeks before he died, echoed in Greer’s brain. She mustn’t make the same mistakes with Nathan. Was it so wrong for a mother to want to protect her child, though? Why had Tom rejected her love?
She needed to stop this negativity. Right now. Here was Nathan, lunching with her in this upmarket bistro, marking the start of a whole new relationship. She mustn’t ruin it. Too much was at stake.
Their food and wine came, and the two of them made small talk as they ate. Greer’s chicken was perfect, the sauce rich and sublime. Nathan attacked his steak with gusto, clearly enjoying it.
The enticing possibility of cellular memory at work in Nathan danced before Greer’s brain. The book she’d ordered had arrived that morning, and she’d already read a couple of chapters. ‘I have a question for you. Have you heard of cellular memory?’
When Nathan shook his head, Greer elaborated. ‘Don’t you think it’s fascinating?’
He laughed. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘It’s not widely acknowledged in the medical community, but the anecdotal evidence is strong.’
‘It sounds like your son was a great guy, so maybe I’d do well to take on some of his characteristics.’ Nathan picked up the menu. ‘I think I can squeeze in some pudding.’
Well, that was disappointing. Greer had been so excited by what she’d read, so eager to share it with him, and Nathan had brushed aside what she’d said.
Perhaps she was being unfair. Many people probably dismissed the idea of cellular memory; it was a pretty wild concept to accept that other body parts might contain character traits and preferences, not just the brain. She’d talk to Nathan about it again sometime to see if she could open his mind a little.
‘Do you want a dessert?’ Nathan asked.
Greer didn’t think she could eat another thing. ‘Nothing for me, thanks. I’m full.’
‘Well, I’m not. I’ll go for the sticky toffee cheesecake.’
Greer pursed her lips. More unhealthy food choices. Wait, though. Hadn’t Tom always loved cheesecake?
Oh, God. Yes, he had. Coincidence, possibly, but what if cellular memory was at work?
Once Nathan’s dessert arrived, she watched as he slid his fork through the gooey mess and lifted it to his mouth. ‘Is that what you’d usually order?’
Nathan paused, his fork in mid-air. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘No reason. Just wondered.’
He shrugged. ‘Normally I’d go for ice cream. Just had a fancy for cheesecake, though.’
Greer stayed silent. Her hope that her son was alive and living on in Nathan sparked higher. Her eyes roved over Nathan’s Egyptian cotton shirt. The style was the sort Tom had favoured. Cellular memory again?
The server appeared again. ‘Can I get you anything else?’
‘Just the bill.’ Nathan smiled at Greer. ‘Would you excuse me? I need the toilet.’
A moment after he’d gone, the server placed a leather folder on the table. Greer flicked it open. The numbers on the slip of paper inside made her gasp. The restaurant hadn’t stocked the wine Nathan had wanted, but the bottle of red they’d drunk had cost more than their combined food. A far cry from her occasional pizza delivery.
Greer pulled her purse from her handbag and selected a credit card. This was a special occasion, and she wanted to impress Nathan. Her finances could ill afford it, but so what? She slipped her card into the folder and handed it to the passing server. When Nathan returned from the toilet, it was already back in her purse. He smiled as he slid into the booth. ‘Ready to go?’
‘We’ll definitely eat there again,’ Nathan said once they were standing on the pavement outside. ‘It’s been great to see you, Greer. Next time, I’ll take you to an Italian place near here. They serve the best osso buco in Birmingham.’
Greer stepped closer. ‘I’d like that.’ What she really wanted, more than anything, was to listen to Tom’s heart. But a light drizzle was falling, and they were in public, people bustling all around them. She was about to suggest coffee back at Nathan’s flat when he spoke. ‘My car’s parked over there. I’ll be in touch, okay?’
He mustn’t escape so easily. Greer placed her hand on his shirt, close to where Tom’s precious heart lay. Her face flushed hot with longing. ‘Can we go to your place? Please? I’d like to listen to... well, you know.’
Nathan took a step backwards. Greer glimpsed distaste on his face, but it had gone before she could be certain.
Probably the fact they were standing on the pavement in the rain.
Or maybe Greer was being too pushy.
‘I really have to go,’ Nathan said. ‘It’s been fantastic seeing you, Greer. I’ll text you about meeting up again sometime, okay?’
That was more than okay. ‘I’d like that.’
He smiled. ‘I’m so grateful to your son. I feel this is the start of something wonderful for us both, don’t you?’
Greer could only nod, incapable of speech. Yes. Yes, she did, and it was incredible.
CHAPTER 35
By the evening of the next day, Nathan hadn’t contacted Greer, despite his promise.
His words floated back to her. This is the start of something wonderful for us both. So why hadn’t he texted? Was she expecting too much, too soon?
Two more days passed, and Nathan still hadn’t been in touch. Was he ill? Should she drive to his flat?
No. She mustn’t smother him. No texts, no phone calls. Nathan would contact her before long, and everything would be fine. Wouldn’t it?
As Greer struggled through another sleepless night, she wasn’t so sure.
IT WAS THE FOLLOWING morning when Greer’s phone finally buzzed with a message from Nathan. Sorry I’ve not been in touch. There’s a good reason for that. Can we meet? There’s something I want to discuss.
Tension rushed out of Greer like air from a burst balloon. How silly of her. He wasn’t abandoning her as everyone else had done; he’d just been busy. Time to call him.
To her relief, Nathan answered straightaway. ‘Greer! How wonderful to hear from you.’
‘Likewise. Of course we can meet up. Maybe that Italian place you suggested?’
‘Sure. Are you free at lunchtime?’
How was it possible to be this happy? Lunch with Nathan beckoned, all shiny and inviting. He hadn’t lost interest in her. All was well in her world.
By the time the call ended, Greer had arranged to meet Nathan at L’Oro di Napoli in Edgbaston at one o’clock. It was now just after nine. Time to shower and get ready. Black trousers and a teal-coloured blouse, teamed with a matching jacket, would do nicely. She’d spend extra time on her hair and her make-up, too. They were going to an upmarket restaurant; Nathan would expect her to look her best.
Greer arrived at L’Oro di Napoli half an hour early. She drummed her fingers on the expensive linen tablecloth while she waited. How quickly her feelings for Nathan had grown. Her grief over Tom remained a leaden weight in her heart, but her deepening connection to Nathan had soothed the pain a little. She’d been right to contact him, no matter what Beth thought.
The minutes ticked by, and Nathan didn’t arrive. Greer shifted uneasily in her seat, aware of the hustle and bustle around her. Lunchtime diners packed the restaurant, mostly male, all in sharp suits and with neat hair. She didn’t fit in here, even with her cut-price designer gear. Too downmarket by far.
Nathan would come soon, right? Although being late seemed to be his style.
Five past one. Still no sign of him.
Ten past. Should she call him? But no, there he was, walking towards her.
Greer’s shoulders slumped with relief. His thousand-megawatt smile erased all traces of her anxiety. How silly of her. Not everyone valued punctuality the way she did.
To her surprise, Nathan grabbed both her hands once he’d sat down, leaning across the table. ‘It’s so good to see you. I’ve been looking forward to our lunch together all morning.’
‘You have?’ Pleasure fluttered in Greer’s belly.
‘Of course. Let’s eat, and then we’ll talk. Like I told you, there’s something I want to discuss.’ He grinned. ‘Don’t look so worried. It’s nothing bad, I promise.’ He handed her a menu.
Greer ordered a simple antipasto salad and bread. Her lips curled in disapproval when Nathan chose a traditional Italian beef stew, but she curbed the urge to comment.
Nathan talked a lot about himself over their meal: his last appointment with his cardiologist, how he got good days and bad days, his latest blood tests. Not that Greer minded. It was good to know Tom’s heart was being carefully monitored.
A server appeared at their table. ‘Can I get either of you the dessert menu?’
‘Not for me, thanks.’
‘I’ll have some of your excellent tiramisu,’ Nathan said. Really, all that sugar couldn’t be good for him. She was about to say something, but Nathan got in first.
‘Remember how I mentioned I had something I wanted to discuss?’
Greer nodded.
‘It’s the reason I’ve not been in touch. I wanted to be sure before I told you.’
‘Told me what?’
‘Things have been weird the last few days. Everything I’ve been experiencing, though—it makes me think this cellular memory stuff is real.’
CHAPTER 36
Greer stared at Nathan, her mouth open with shock. Her life currently hovered over a precipice; with his next words, Nathan might haul her to safety or push her over the edge. ‘What do you mean?’
He reached into the messenger bag he’d brought and extracted a rectangle of card. ‘I’ve had no interest in drawing before. Yesterday morning, though, I got this weird urge to do some sketching. It nagged at me, won’t let go. In the end, I rummaged through my desk drawer, found a pencil and rubber and some paper. Next thing I knew, it was lunchtime, and I’d covered a dozen sheets of A4 with doodles, sketches, you name it. That afternoon I bought myself a sketchpad and spent the rest of the day drawing.’ He placed the card before Greer. ‘It’s not great, I know. But what do you think?’
