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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2018
Copyright © Helen Fields 2018
Cover photograph © Alamy
Cover design © www.blacksheep-uk.com
Helen Fields asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008181611
Ebook Edition © January 2018 ISBN: 9780008181628
Version 2018-06-20
Lilyâs life was very nearly over, it was just that she didnât know it yet. He stroked the photograph of her heâd kept by his bed for the last few months. In it, she was bending over the edge of a pond, throwing bread for ducks, laughing, entirely unaware of her stunted future.
Much remained to be done before the evening, but he could allow himself a few moments with his box of treasures. He pulled the bottom drawer from his bedside table, putting his hands into the dark void beneath to grip the wooden container. Heâd made it in woodwork at school â one of the few triumphs in a largely wasted period of his life â but then heâd moved around a lot, and academics had never come easily.
Sliding the lid off, he caught his breath looking at the scraps of lives contained within. A brooch, inlaid with semi-precious stones, in the shape of a sprig of heather. He remembered the back-breaking hours of gardening heâd had to do for that one, never allowed a rest to avoid the rain, yet it had been worth it in the end. Then there was the tiny silver letter opener, so well used and well loved that part of the swirling design on its handle had been worn away. A lucky coin, or so its owner had claimed, kept always in a pocket or a purse. Just went to prove there was no such thing as good luck. Finally, a tooth. More specifically a crown, dislodged in the torment and drama of those final moments when nothing had gone to plan. He liked the smoothness of its surface, the integral part it had played in the life heâd ended. Where did a bodyâs energy go once death was complete? He thought back to his school days once more. There had been something about energy changing form but never ceasing to exist. Not enough knowledge to have passed a science exam, but he was pleased with the tiny pearl of wisdom. He wondered if it was possible to breathe a dying personâs energy in.
Making a small space in the centre of the objects in his box, he imagined a new prize there. Its owner had taken more time to cultivate than the rest. Lily kept herself to herself, enjoyed family life, and worked hard. Soon he would have his memento of her, ready to savour among the others heâd worked so hard for.