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moments, but as the drug took hold, Anne settled again.
She somehow found the strength to grip my hand.
"Desmond, I haven't long...you of all people know.... I'm...I'm so glad you came to say goodbye... and.....today of all days, I need a strong man."
I was about to speak, but she waved a hand. She looked out into her beautifully kept garden. Donald had found his green wellingtons and was raking fallen copper leaves from his manicured lawn.
"He's a good man, Des...a very good and decent man...but he doesn't have what you have."
I could feel my heart break all over again.
"Anne, my darlin', I'm so..."
Despite the meds, her pain returned and she arched her back in agony. Sweat poured from her.
"Don't!" she managed through gritted teeth. "Don't tell me you're sorry; don't tell me you're...fucking sad."
She took short laboured breaths. I could hear the hiss of the oxygen being forced into her ruined lungs.
"You...you can help me, Des...if you ever loved me...still love me...you can help. Donald is a lovely man, but he can't...he won't..."
She held my gaze for the longest time. I could feel my tears.
Then the realisation of why she had contacted me hit me like a train.
I stood and released her hand.
"No, Anne! Come on...not that! You can't possibly have thought that I'd...I mean...fuckin' Jesus H Christ... You call me out of the blue...to say goodbye; that's what you said....to say goodbye...not for me to...to...what? Put a fuckin' pillow over your face? Pull the plug? Is that it? Oh I see... Des will do it, he's knocked a few off in his time; one more won't matter."
I sat back down and buried my head in my hands. I was in bits.
Of course I could see her suffering; you wouldn't put a fuckin' dog through it. I'd always insisted that if I ever got gut-shot on a job, and I was screaming my nuts off, one of the lads would slot me. I'd do the same for them, but that was in battle and this was different, this was Anne...my wife.
I took the deepest of breaths. "How can you ask me such a thing, eh?"
She cocked her head to one side, the way she always had when I was going off on one.
"Des?"
"I cannae, hen...I'm so sorry."
Anne took my hand again, and despite her agony, smiled. She could barely manage more than three words at a time.
"Okay...it's okay. I had to ask the question. I've been kinda desperate here if you know what I mean? Donald can't do it; he's not..."
"Not a killer, you mean?"
"I didn't mean that, Des. I understand; it was wrong of me... to put...to put you in such a position....Forget I mentioned it eh? I'm glad you came. Just stay a while, talk to me, have a drink with me...please?"
What was I to say?
I found a bottle of Irish whiskey in the cabinet and dropped two tumblers on the bedside table.
I hadn't touched a dram for donkeys but there was no Guinness, and to be honest, I needed a drink more than I was willing to admit.
I poured two large measures and did my best to make light of the situation.
"I hope this won't interfere with your medication."
Anne picked up her glass and despite her shaking hands, managed to knock the golden liquid back in one.
"Fuck it, Des. Nothing is going to change anything now is it...pour me another, eh?"
I followed suit and necked my shot before I pouring two more.
Anne pressed her meds button again, but nothing happened.
She grimaced in pain. "Bastards," she spat. "It loads itself every forty minutes...so I don't do myself any harm, eh?"
I found a smile from somewhere and raised my glass. "Best have a few of these then, eh, hen?"
This time as she sipped her drink, she shook so violently I had to help her put her glass back on the table.
She lay back, exhausted from the merest effort. She closed her eyes for a moment. Her speech was slurred, she was falling into unconsciousness.
"Des... Des....my handsome man...come on.... spill the beans...you must have a girl by now."
I shook my head. "Nah...nobody, hen."
Anne forced her eyes open and
Louis - Sackett's 10 L'amour