Ever since the ligament injury that thwarted his rugby career, he’d had a sincere conviction that the universe was against him.
And Nora was, at least she felt, considered by him as part of that same universal plan.
From that moment in that car park she had felt she was really just an extension of the pain in his left knee.
A walking wound. But maybe he had known what would happen.
Maybe he could foresee the way one regret would lead to another, until suddenly that was all she was. A whole book of regrets.
“Okay, Mrs Elm. I want to know what happened in the life where I did what my father wanted.”
“Where I trained as hard as I possibly could. Where I never moaned about a five a.m. start or a nine p.m. finish.”
“Where I swam every day and never thought about quitting. Where I didn’t get sidelined by music or writing unfinished novels.”
“Where I sacrificed everything else on the altar of freestyle.”
“Where I didn’t give up. Where I did everything right in order to reach the Olympics. Take me to where I am in that life.”
For a moment it seemed as though Mrs Elm hadn’t been taking any notice of Nora’s mini-speech,
as she kept frowning at the chessboard, working out how to out-manoeuvre herself.
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