Chapters (100)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Note to Readers
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Part One
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Part Two
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Part Three
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Part Four
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- Chapter Thirty-Eight
- Chapter Thirty-Nine
- Chapter Forty
- Chapter Forty-One
- Chapter Forty-Two
- Chapter Forty-Three
- Chapter Forty-Four
- Chapter Forty-Five
- Chapter Forty-Six
- Chapter Forty-Seven
- Chapter Forty-Eight
- Chapter Forty-Nine
- Chapter Fifty
- Chapter Fifty-One
- Chapter Fifty-Two
- Chapter Fifty-Three
- Chapter Fifty-Four
- Chapter Fifty-Five
- Chapter Fifty-Six
- Chapter Fifty-Seven
- Chapter Fifty-Eight
- Chapter Fifty-Nine
- Chapter Sixty
- Chapter Sixty-One
- Chapter Sixty-Two
- Chapter Sixty-Three
- Chapter Sixty-Four
- Chapter Sixty-Five
- Chapter Sixty-Six
- Chapter Sixty-Seven
- Chapter Sixty-Eight
- Chapter Sixty-Nine
- Chapter Seventy
- Chapter Seventy-One
- Chapter Seventy-Two
- Chapter Seventy-Three
- Chapter Seventy-Four
- Chapter Seventy-Five
- Chapter Seventy-Six
- Part Five
- Chapter Seventy-Seven
- Chapter Seventy-Eight
- Chapter Seventy-Nine
- Chapter Eighty
- Part Six
- Chapter Eighty-One
- Chapter Eighty-Two
- Chapter Eighty-Three
- Author’s Note
- Book Club Questions for The Life We Almost Had
- Acknowledgements
- Extract
- Chapter One
- About the Publisher
And then I felt nothing at all.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Anna
Adam.
I couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not when our future was at last bright and glittering with all the things we had dreamed of.
Adam.
How could I ever have thought that I didn’t want him anymore?
I did.
Oh, how I did.
The other swimmers had reached the yacht and were diving under, resurfacing without him.
Adam.
The beach had lost its colour. Its noise. Holidaymakers static and silent, staring out to sea like mannequins.
‘He’s got him!’ someone shouted. Adam’s head surfaced and a sob clawed up my throat.
‘Bring him back,’ I screamed, beckoning with both hands, quickly, quickly.
I paced.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Turn.
A tiger in a cage. Coiled. Ready to spring the second they reached shallower water. Ready to shower my husband with love and kisses.
At last they were closer but Adam didn’t stand. Instead he was dragged onto the sand and dropped heavily.
Adam.
I fell to my knees beside him. Shaking him. Wake up. Wake up.
‘He’s not breathing!’ Frantically I scanned the crowd. The horrified expressions. The camera phones. Why wasn’t anyone helping?
‘Please.’ I shook Adam again, crying harder. ‘Someone.’
‘Let me see.’ A woman kneeled opposite me, her fingers scooping the inside of Adam’s mouth, before checking his neck for a pulse.
‘Adam. He’s called Adam.’ It was important that she knew but she didn’t answer. Instead, she breathed into his mouth – the mouth that had kissed me goodbye. She linked her hands and pushed hard on his chest.
How can his heart have given up when it was so full of love for me? For our unborn child.
His face was pale. The sand, once golden, was stained crimson by the blood trickling from a wound on his head.
I waited for him to gasp, the way they do in the movies. For water to spew from his beautiful lips.
It didn’t.
Adam.
Please don’t leave me.
Part Three
‘Giving up isn’t an option.’
JOSH QUIGLEY – ADAM’S BEST FRIEND
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Anna
The smell of hospitals was the same wherever you were in the world. Abrasive and clinical; disinfectant mingled with bleach, sorrow tinged with fear.
Adam hadn’t woken up.
I tightly clutched the itchy grey blanket that had been draped around my shoulders, wishing it were my husband’s hand that I was holding. I half ran to keep up with the trolley as it was wheeled down a corridor, bright with harsh, fluorescent light. Doctors and nurses blocked my view as they poked and prodded him, chattering away in a language I couldn’t understand. They could have been saying Adam had no chance of survival, they could have been discussing last night’s TV, what they’d be eating for dinner. I had no way of knowing.
I had never felt more scared.