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Before I Saw You
Before I Saw You Read online
Emily Houghton
* * *
BEFORE I SAW YOU
Contents
1. Alice
2. Alfie
3. Alice
4. Alfie
5. Alice
6. Alfie
7. Alice
8. Alfie
9. Alice
10. Alfie
11. Alice
12. Alfie
13. Alice
14. Alfie
15. Alice
16. Alfie
17. Alice
18. Alfie
19. Alice
20. Alfie
21. Alice
22. Alfie
23. Alice
24. Alfie
25. Alice
26. Alfie
27. Alice
28. Alfie
29. Alice
30. Alfie
31. Alice
32. Alfie
33. Alice
34. Alfie
35. Alice
36. Alfie
37. Alice
38. Alfie
39. Alice
40. Alfie
41. Alice
42. Alfie
43. Alice
44. Alfie
45. Alice
46. Alfie
47. Alice
48. Alfie
49. Alice
50. Alfie
51. Alice
52. Alfie
53. Alice
54. Alfie
55. Alice
56. Alfie
57. Alice
58. Alfie
59. Alfie
60. Alice
61. Alfie
62. Alice
63. Alfie
64. Alice
65. Alfie
66. Alice
67. Alfie
68. Alice
69. Alfie
70. Alice
71. Alfie
72. Alice
Epilogue: Alfie
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Emily Houghton was a digital specialist, but is now a full-time creative writer. She originally comes from Essex but now lives in London. Emily is a trained yoga and spin teacher, is completely obsessed with dogs and has dreamed of being an author ever since she could hold a pen.
Readers love Before I Saw You
‘One of the must-reads of 2021! It is beautifully written, with characters that have such great depth.’
‘I expected this to be an emotional story. What I didn’t expect was to laugh and cry in equal measure … Absolutely amazing and a must-read!’
‘A really intense and original romance that is so well crafted and paced that it leaves you yearning for more.’
‘One of my favourite 2021 reads … Wonderfully crafted, complicated, messy, funny, broken and human characters. Loved them both so much.’
‘All of the characters in this book are so amazing, so loveable, and they jump right off the page.’
‘A lovely romance novel showing people in some of their darkest moments. I couldn’t put it down once I started, leading to a very long night!’
‘Truly inspiring and my heart constantly felt full of love and admiration.’
‘I loved this really fresh take on a love story … in your darkest days, the kindness of a stranger and a really good friend can make all the difference in the world.’
‘My heart was full of emotion. The characters were so believable and I was completely absorbed.’
www.penguin.co.uk
For Rebecca, who believed in me and this book before I ever could. I carry your words and support with me in my heart every day.
1
Alice
As she slipped in and out of consciousness, all Alice could process were the stark white lights overhead, the acrid smell of burning, and the searing heat that ripped through her entire body.
An unfamiliar voice drifted above her. ‘Good God, she’s lucky to be alive.’
She wanted to try and work out where she was. Find out who these voices belonged to, and more importantly who on earth they were talking about. But it hurt to just be, let alone think. Plus, those lights were blinding.
‘Lucky? You think she’s going to feel lucky when she looks in the mirror for the first time? She’s been badly burnt, the poor girl.’
She tried to force her brain into action, fighting against the pull of sleep. Just as she was about to give up and allow the cool safety of darkness to take her, Alice started to piece it all together.
The ‘poor girl’.
The smell.
The burning.
It was her who was lucky to be alive.
It was her who had been on fire.
2
Alfie
‘There he is! Alfie Mack, the luckiest son of a bitch I know!’
He didn’t need to pull the curtain back to know who had come to visit him – he would never be able to forget that voice, even if he’d wanted to.
‘Not quite so lucky when they chopped my leg off, but you win some, you lose some, right?’
‘Can’t argue with that one.’ Matty shrugged. ‘Anyway, how have you been, buddy? By the way, I can’t stay long today, got to pick the missus up and go for lunch with the in-laws.’
It was normal for everyone to make their excuses to leave before they’d even taken a seat, and Alfie was grateful to Matty for at least asking how he was first.
‘Yeah, no worries, I’ve got a fairly packed day too.’
‘Really?’
Alfie could tell he was only half listening.
‘Oh yeah, it’s relentless in here. The main challenge is trying to guess the number of times Mr Peterson will get up and go to the toilet this morning. Normally we average a good seven, but if he has a sip of that apple juice, it could be anything up to ten.’
A disgruntled voice rang out across the ward. ‘When you’re ninety-two and your bladder is about as taut as a dead duck’s arse, you’ll be pissing constantly too.’
‘It’s all right, Mr P, there’s no judgement here. Although, are you sure you weren’t a writer in another life? Your vocabulary is downright poetic.’
The old man across the way in bed fourteen broke into a smile, then very quickly shoved his middle finger up at Alfie and returned to reading his newspaper.
‘Seriously though, mate, how are you doing? How’s the physio going? Any idea yet when you’ll be out of here?’ Matty’s eyes were wide with hope.
Everyone asked the same questions with the same concern. It was strange; on the one hand he knew that they all just wanted him home and out of the hospital, but at the same time he couldn’t help but sense their slight apprehension. He supposed that while he was in the capable hands of St Francis’s nursing staff, it was one less thing they all had to worry about.
‘No idea, if I’m honest. The infection seems to be all under control now. Physio is going well and they’re going to measure me for a custom prosthetic soon. I just need to keep building my strength up. It’s small progress but, as the nurses say … every step is a step closer to the end!’
‘That is the worst motivational phrase ever. It sounds like you’re walking to your bloody death.’
‘Well, isn’t that what we’re all doing, Matthew my friend?’ Alfie reached over and patted him on the arm.
‘Oh, give over. You’re still a dark-humoured bastard even with one leg, aren’t you!’ Matty slapped his hand away affectionately.
It was around now when most people usually took their cue to leave – they’d checked in on him, cracked a few jokes, asked the questions they thought they should. There was usually only so much time being surrounded by the sick and vulnerable that a person could take.
‘Don’t you worry, I’ll be here! Take care of yourself and give the little ones a kiss from me.’
‘Sure thing. Love you, mate.’
‘Yeah, you too, Matty.’
The declarations of love were still something Alfie was getting used to. They had only started after Matty had thought his best friend was gone for ever. The first time, Alfie could have sworn he’d misheard.
‘What did you just say?’
‘Nothing.’ Matty had shuffled uncomfortably, his gaze fixed to the floor. ‘I just …’ His eyes flickered up briefly to meet Alfie’s. ‘I just said I love you, is all.’
Alfie had burst out into laughter. ‘Oh, come on, mate! Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t need to say all that stuff.’ But Matty was definitely not laughing. In fact, he was looking even more uncomfortable. His head had dropped lower; his fists were tight by his side.
‘Look, it’s not ridiculous, OK?’ He was painfully forcing the words out through gritted teeth. ‘When I thought I’d lost you, I realized I’d never said it to you once. Not in the entire fifteen years of our friendship, and so I promised myself that if you survived I’d tell you. Thankfully here we are, so you’d better get used to it, OK?’
It was all Alfie could do not to cry. ‘I love you too, mate.’
Since then, it had become the full stop at the end of their every goodbye. Of course it was said in a very nonchalant, testosterone-filled manner, but Alfie knew how important those few words were to both of them now.
Alfie had been a patient at St Francis’s hospital for nearly six weeks. Since he’d moved to Hackney three years ago, he’d had the pleasure of seeing St Francis’s regularly. Its murky pebble-dashing loomed over the trendy gentrified streets as a reminder there was a shabby history that couldn’t be ignored.
‘Jesus Christ, if I ever end up in that place, Mum, promise me you’ll get me transferred?’ he’d joke, whenever they’d walk past it during one of her visits.
‘Oh, don’t be so morbid. I’ve heard very good things about that place.’
‘Really? You’re telling me you’ve heard good things about a place that looks more like a multi-storey car park than a hospital?’
‘Stop it! If you were at death’s door, trust me, you’d be begging them to take you in.’ She smiled at him in that infuriating self-righteous way. ‘Plus, what have I always taught you? Never judge a book by its cover.’
But continue to judge it he did. Right up until the very moment the unsightly building and the people within it saved his life. As soon as he was admitted, they’d known it was bad. Just one look at the wreckage would have told you that, but over a month in hospital? Nobody could have predicted that.
3
Alice
‘Hey, honey … can you hear me?’ The voice was quiet, hopeful and cautious.
The smell was the first thing to hit her.
Bleach. Blood. Human decay.
‘You don’t even need to say anything, Alice, love. Maybe blink or wiggle those fingers of yours, we just want to know if you’re awake.’
In an act to get this human and her nauseating kindness away from her, Alice forced her fingers to move. The effort alone felt peculiar. How had she forgotten to use her own body? How long had it been since she’d told her brain to work?
‘There you are, Alice, my girl. Well done, you’re doing brilliantly!’
It didn’t feel like she was doing brilliantly. It felt like someone had stretched and pulled at her skin, trying to fit her into a new body that was the wrong shape altogether, and then to top it off they’d run out of material and given up halfway through the job. She felt unfinished and in a hell of a lot of pain.
‘You’ve been in an accident, Alice, but you’re on the mend now. I’m going to call for the doctor so he can come and explain what’s been happening, OK? Sit tight, sweetheart, I’ll be back in a moment.’
Alice’s head was pounding. Broken fragments of memory kept swirling around her mind, making it impossible for her to think. She blinked her eyes open and saw two people hurrying towards her bed.
Please just tell me where the hell I am.
‘Hi Miss Gunnersley. Do you mind if I call you Alice?’
The doctor stepped a little closer to her. He had a face that Alice presumed was once filled with hope and enthusiasm for the work he was doing, but now appeared a little jaded and somewhat wary. Here stood a man well and truly hardened to death.
She shook her head very slightly. The only act of acknowledgement she could muster.
‘Fantastic. So, Alice, as the nurse has probably already explained, you’ve been brought into St Francis’s hospital because you’ve been in a serious accident. There was a fire in your office building and unfortunately you were caught in it. You’ve suffered some quite substantial injuries – we estimate about 40 per cent of your body has been burnt to varying degrees. We’ve already performed one surgery in an attempt to minimize the damage, but there’s still a long way to go. For now, I want you to know that you’re receiving the best possible care and we have a plan in place to support you.’ An awkward smile appeared momentarily on his face. ‘Do you have any immediate questions I can answer? I know it must be a lot to take in.’
The words washed over her, flooding her with a deep sense of dread. Surely this couldn’t be real? Was it some cruel joke? Her brain desperately searched for any other alternative than the one staring her in the face. But the pain was real. She knew that for certain. She looked down at her arm. The damage was unavoidably real.
Alice snapped her eyes shut immediately.
Don’t look. Don’t you dare look at it again.
She heard the doctor shift at the end of her bed. ‘It may be uncomfortable for a little while, but we are giving you pain relief to help. I’ll let you rest some more, Alice, but I’ll be back in the morning to check in on you again, OK?’
She nodded and then, without needing to be told twice, she fell back into a deep ignorant sleep.
*
Over the coming days, as she grew stronger, Alice found herself able to stay awake for more than only a smattering of time. Her brain had slowly come round to the idea of working, which in turn meant she was able to finally take in her surroundings.
Bleak.
That was the first word that came to mind. ‘Soulless’ was a fast follower. For a place constantly brimming with noise, it felt empty. There were always people busying themselves with one thing or another. Checking this. Reading that. Talking constantly. Alice knew she was alive but only by the grace of the machines she was attached to. There were so many wires feeding into her she started to forget where the flesh ended and the mechanics began. She let herself be prodded and poked and discussed, all the while taking her mind and most importantly her gaze elsewhere. Every time she looked down, the evidence was there. It was as if the fire had been so incensed that she had managed to escape with her life, that it had wanted to leave its mark on her indefinitely, and it had done its job well. The entire left side of her body was charred. Eaten up and spat out by the flames. In a bid to try and block out the state of her, she spent most of her time looking at the ceiling or at the inside of her eyelids. Sleep became the only place that felt familiar to her. The only place she didn’t feel pain and the only place left for her to escape to.
Sleep also meant that she avoided the influx of people constantly checking in on her like clockwork. Throughout her life she’d often wondered how it would feel to be looked after. How would it feel to be cared for with no questions asked or conditions to be met? Now it had become her reality and it made her want to scream until her lungs bled raw. She knew they were just doing their job. She was fully aware that the nurses and doctors were obliged to care, but what wasn’t required were the tears that would well up in their eyes every time they saw her. Nor was stayin
g after hours to try and talk to her because for days in a row there had been no visitors by her bedside. A bitter resentment ignited inside her, flooding her body with poison and spilling out on to those around her. She recoiled at their touch; she despised their pity. It was nobody’s job to take pity on her.
Often, if sleep hadn’t carried her away, she’d close her eyes and pretend during their rounds. She couldn’t stand looking at the same faces trying to disguise their shock. The same faces attempting to coax even a hint of a word from her mouth, but still she said nothing. At first it genuinely was too painful to speak. She’d breathed in so much smoke during the fire that, as well as a melted face, she’d won a pair of lungs fit for a forty-a-day smoker. No matter how many litres of oxygen she was forced to inhale each day, the entirety of her throat still seared with pain. She was charred from the inside out. A truly well-done piece of meat.
4
Alfie
When he’d first been admitted to hospital, everything felt alien. He didn’t belong there. Nothing fitted. Everything, from the chlorinated smell of the air to the feel of the scratchy starched bed sheets and the sounds of the people, was wrong. There was no space that was his and he was constantly being walked in on, interrupted, or woken up by the doctors and nurses. He could feel the frustration mounting with every passing hour and the unfamiliarity was overwhelming. Every night he prayed he could be back in his home. Back in his little one-bed flat in Hackney, surrounded by the safety of his life. Now he wasn’t sure how he could ever go back to it. How would he sleep without the meditative beeping of the heart monitors? How could he wake up in his bedroom alone? Where would the faces of the other patients be when he needed company?
One of the rare perks of being a patient for so long was that you got very familiar with the dos and don’ts of hospital life. Six weeks was long enough to know what to choose and what to avoid from the daily menus, to remember which porters had a sense of humour and which could barely even blink, let alone crack a smile. It was also long enough to know which of the nurses would slip you an extra pudding at dinner and which of them you needed to be on best behaviour for. Luckily, the Moira Gladstone ward contained more of the former than the latter. And none was kinder, more protective and larger than life than Nurse Martha Angles, aka Mother Angel. There was nothing small about her; she was a woman who could fill a room with just her bust and her laughter, and she oversaw the rehab ward with a keen eye and an open heart.
Before I Saw You