12 comments/ 14935 views/ 11 favorites Imogen's Gift By: Cromagnonman This is another romance that will probably not be to everyone's taste. That's life. This story is about courage and love, so please, if you want to criticise it, show a bit of courage yourself and don't hide behind the 'Anonymous' tag. CM * The first time I saw Imogen it had a profound impact on me. "Hey Simon, come here." Scott should have been working on his computer but was instead looking at YouTube. I got up from my desk and walked over to his. "Have you ever seen anything so amazing in your life?" I wouldn't have gone that far, but it was pretty intriguing. She sat on a high stool that had a back support on it, her waif-like body barely creating any contours on her thin floral dress, in place of hair she wore a bandana tied around her head, and her thin legs were held from the floor by her sandal clad feet on the foot rest. That image was intriguing enough, but what really attracted me was her voice and the song she was singing. In a clear but soft voice as if the effort of getting through the song was almost too much for her, she sang a slightly altered version of the Gloria Gaynor hit, 'I will survive'. It was no longer the disco hit that the original was, it was no longer about a woman getting over the man who was cheating her. In her now folk version, it was an illness that she was fighting. I willed her with all my heart to finish the song, and the final 'I will survive' soared clear and pure and abruptly stopped. There was no fade out, no giving in to the inevitable, she was strong to the end. There was a moment of silence, and just before the image dissolved, the guitar seemed to slip from her hand, it was only the hand holding the neck that prevented it from falling to the floor, and she stood for a second or two, holding the stool for support. "Who is she?" I had never seen such a gutsy performance. "I don't know, but what I do know is that this is going to go viral. In the twenty-four hours it has had nearly a hundred thousand hits." "We have to find out who she is, this could be one of the best human interest stories of the year." My mind was already on my fame and fortune, if I could find her before anyone else could, I could jump on to her publicity band-wagon, possibly even lead it. My job, if you could call it that, was to spot new talent for a community FM radio station that played mostly Indie bands and singers. We had a good following and each year we put out a CD of the top acts of the year. I was one member of the selection panel for this project, and the CD always sold well. We were not a commercial station, and relied heavily on CD sales, public subscriptions and donations to keep us in operation. It took time and perseverance, but Scott and I managed to track her down. She lived in a small cottage at Leura in the Blue Mountains west of Sydney. She answered her phone on the fourth ring. "Hello." The voice had the same clarity as the video, but there was a quality about it that worried me, it was quiet, almost weak. "Miss Ferrier, my name is Simon Porter, I'm with OriginFM in Sydney. I'm ringing because I saw your YouTube posting and I'm impressed with what I saw and heard. I'd like to come and talk to you about it. Would that be possible?" "I don't think so." "Please, hear me out. I'm not so much interested in promoting your song, you seem to be doing pretty well on your own, and it's just that I think that there's more to this than just the song. Don't worry, while I'd like to do a story on you, I will not publish anything without your prior approval. It could be a great human interest piece and, I could be wrong, but I'm thinking that you have a motive behind your posting of the video on YouTube, you want it to be seen as a message of hope to other cancer sufferers." "How did. . ." "So you are suffering from cancer, I wasn't sure, although the bandana should have been a dead give-away. This makes it even more imperative that I meet you, I believe that I can help you to really get that message of hope out there." It was a typical winter's day in the Blue Mountains, it had been trying hard to snow, resulting in a steady drizzle of bitterly cold rain pushed along by the strong wind, layering the roads with the last of the soggy late autumn leaves. The house was set back from the road behind a garden full of English flowers (not so many flowers, they had given up until spring) and shrubs, its weatherboard facade newly painted. The impression that I got was of an ordered existence. She had, at first, sounded reluctant to let me come and interview her, but on my promise of not publishing anything without her approval, she relented, and here I was. I mounted the front steps and pressed the door bell. "It's open, come in." That small voice just managed to penetrate the door. I pushed it open and stepped into a darkened room. I could just make out her shape seated one of those old over-stuffed sofas, with a rug over her knees. "You'll have to forgive me for not getting up, and for the darkness of this room, but the light hurts my eyes." "I understand. I'm Simon Porter from OriginFM, but you already know that." "I'm Imogen Ferrier, but you already know that." I could just make out a smile on her face. "I asked for that, didn't I? The reason I wanted to speak with you was about your YouTube posting. It really moved me, seeing you there singing that song, it looked as if it took a great deal of emotional as well as physical effort just to get through it." "Yes it did, but I had to do it. If you've done your research, and I assume that you have, you will have already discovered that I have Leukaemia. My doctors have given me six months, so I decided to put what little time I have left to good use. I wasn't going to lie in bed and allow this to sap my physical as well as emotional strength, I am going to fight it every millimetre of the way. When I eventually go, I want to be still fighting, I will not surrender to this." "I know you won't. I could see that in that video of you singing 'I will survive', that was the voice of a fighter, and I made the decision that I just had to help you fight and survive." "The survive part of this isn't going to happen, I'm resigned to my fate, I know that there is no cure for me, but my fight is to help those who come after me to survive and hopefully allow me to live on through them." "I think that I can help you there, I know that I can help you. What I want to do is to help you set up a charity, you can mention it on your Facebook page, we'll set up a Web page so that we can put your song out for people to download, and we will play your song as often as we can, and mention the charity each time we play it. With a little luck we can raise enough money towards Leukaemia research to help find a cure." "I don't want to limit it to Leukaemia research, I want the money to go to research into all forms of cancer. For some reason cancer seems to run in my family. My mother died of breast cancer three years ago and I came here to live with my aunt. She died six months ago from cervical cancer, and now I have this. I was diagnosed just before Aunt Celia died." "How has your father taken all of this?" "I don't know, I haven't heard from him for the past ten years." "I'm sorry to hear that. What gave you the idea for the video?" "Would you believe it was seeing all of those talentless fools becoming famous on YouTube, I figured if they could do it, I could. I wasn't trying for sympathy, although a little of it won't hurt, I just wanted to do something to help others in my situation. Believe me it's not something that I'm looking forward to, but if I can not only do something, but be seen to be doing something, then the pain won't be so bad, I hope." "What you're trying to do is a wonderful thing, and I promise that I will support you in any way that I can. This is going to sound funny, but I don't feel sorry for you, don't get me wrong, I fully understand what it is that you're going through, but you are too strong to need my sympathy, that's a negative attitude and you don't need negativity at this time of your life. I promise to be strong for you no matter what it takes." I had moved over and sat next to her, and took her hand in mine. "You are tougher than I could ever be." "No I'm not, that's just a front to stop me feeling bad about myself." She squeezed my hand. "Can I make you a cup of tea or coffee?" I asked to change the subject. "I'll make us a cup of herbal tea, I seem to drink a lot of the stuff but I have to warn you, it's an acquired taste, you mightn't like it." She stood and I followed her to her kitchen. The sunlight penetrated the thin fabric of her dress and I realised just how desperately thin she was. She filled the kettle and switched it on and then spooned leaves into a plunger. When the kettle boiled she poured the water in. "It takes a few minutes to steep, would you like something to eat, I have muesli cookies, I make them myself and I think they taste nice." "I'm sure that they do, thank you." She pushed the plunger down and poured the tea into a couple of mugs and handed me one. I sipped the liquid and my mouth almost rebelled at the taste of it. "It may take a while before I acquire a liking for this, and I'm sure that it's doing me some good, but, yuck." I took a cookie and bit into it in an effort to rid my mouth of the taste, Imogen was laughing at me. I took another sip, it wasn't that bad while the taste of the cookie was still in my mouth. "Actually I could even get to like it." "You should have seen the look on your face when you first tasted it." "Yeah, well, I wasn't expecting it to be that bad." Another sip and my mouth gave up its protest and I settled down to almost enjoy it. "Getting back to your singing, it would seem that you've had some musical training." "Yes I was studying at the Con, (Sydney Conservatorium of Music) but I've had to give that up, the commute was getting too much for me." "Have you recorded any other songs?" "Yes, I've done a few, they're mainly classical pieces, 'In Paradisum' and 'Pie Jesu' from Faure's Requiem, Gounod's 'Ave Maria', stuff like that, but people don't want to listen to that, it's too morbid." "But that's the thing, it's okay to sing I Will Survive, but that smacks of denial, those other pieces are beautiful in their own right, but they also show that you are at peace with what lies ahead, a reality check if you will." "I never thought of it that way, I look on them as my admitting defeat." "That reminds me of a joke I heard, 'I'd like to go in my sleep like my grandfather, not yelling and screaming like his passengers.', I have no fear of death, and like you, I want to live as long as possible, but I would like to think that I can accept that, when my time comes, I will know that I need to give in to it and go in peace." "You amaze me, first you tell that joke and then come up with that deep philosophical outlook on death." "It's not all that deep, it's just a rationalisation on life. Birth, amazing as it might seem, is the first step in the journey of life. This journey takes us through many different phases in our lives, our first love, the birth of our first and subsequent children, the death of a loved one, until, finally we reach the final phase, our own death. This can take many forms, it can be as the result of an accident, of war, of disease, whatever form it takes, no matter how long it takes, it is inevitable that it will happen. I would like to think that, if I were in your shoes, I would have the courage to resist that inevitability, and make the most of the time that I have left, before I go with as much dignity as I can muster. I just hope that I will not surrender and lose all dignity. Having said that, I don't know how I would react if I had been diagnosed with cancer, I'd probably fall to pieces." "I don't believe you would, you seem to be a strong man." "I have lived a sheltered life compared to you, my strength is yet to be tested." "Enough!" She stood up and took my hand and led me back into the living room. "Sit." She switched on her TV and the DVD player and the screen burst into the same light as her YouTube video, this time she was singing the 'Pie Jesu', her clear voice reminded me of a boy soprano singing 'a Capella' in a cathedral, the sound seemed to have the same acoustic quality. "Wow." What else could I say, I was blown away by this woman's obvious talent and the emotion that she could impart in the words sung without accompaniment of any kind. This song was followed by the 'Ave Maria' in the same acoustic tone, this time with a softly strummed guitar backing. It would be a heartless bastard to not be moved by this, and I'm not one of those. I sat beside her with tears streaming down my face. She leaned over and kissed them from my cheeks. "Now I know that I want to work with you. Until a couple of months ago I had a boyfriend who, when I told him what I wanted to do and achieve, didn't get it and left. I was shattered, and it took a while to get over that." I wanted to hug her but didn't, fearing that I'd break her, she sensed my reluctance and hugged me with surprising strength. "Don't be afraid to hug me, I'm not that fragile." I hugged her, tentatively at first and increasing the pressure in response to hers. "You have an amazing voice, were you born with it or is it something that you've had to work on?" "I seemed to have been blessed with it. I do have an inspiration for this style of singing, but without the voice I'd have no chance of emulating the sound." She walked to a cupboard and extracted a vinyl album which she placed on a turntable. Soon the room was filled with a voice not unlike hers singing a similar arrangement of the 'Ave Maria'. "This was one of my mother's favourite albums from the 70's." She handed me the album sleeve, it was a self titled album from someone that I'd never heard of, an Australian singer, Kerrie Biddell. I could understand Imogen liking this album, it was brilliant and when she got to Carole king's 'You Need a Friend' I was hooked, it was nothing like the music that I listen to day after day. "That could almost be the theme for your charity, if you'd like I'll contact the Copyright holder and see if we can get permission to use it." "I sort of thought of it but didn't want to go through the hassle of getting permission, but if you can, I'd appreciate it. You and I, we're on the same page on this, aren't we?" "I'd like to think so, I thought that there could be a connection between us from the very first moment I saw that video. What I would like to do is to work with you to produce an album, the radio station could produce and release it, unless you already have a recording contract, I'm sure you'd sell well." "I don't know if I have the strength to do this." "We'll take it slow and not overtax your strength. I won't let anything happen to you." "I know you won't, your motivation is not all about money and fame and fortune, it's about me and my plans to help people like me." "Look, I have to get back to work and it's a bit of a drive, so I'd better leave. Work'll be wondering where I am." "Come back soon, please." She put her arms around my neck and kissed me. "I'll be back and soon, trust me." If it wasn't for work I would have spent the whole weekend with Imogen. I was knocking on her door at eight on Saturday morning and she was ready for me, opening the door and, no sooner was I inside the house than she had her arms around my neck and was kissing me. "I've missed you so much." "It's only been three days and we've spoken on the phone every night." I saw the look on her face realised that I'd missed her too. "I've missed you too, do realise how much of an effort it was to get here at this time in the morning after having spent most of last night listening to second rate garage bands who all think that they're the next good thing?" I kissed her to stop her responding to that, I realised after I'd said it that she would have had to make a similar effort to be ready for me. "That was insensitive, wasn't it?" "Yes it was, but I forgive you, after all this is a new experience for you." "I've been giving some thought to the album, I think it should be called 'Imogen's Gift' and the charity should have the same name, after all your voice is your gift and you are using your gift and giving it to those less fortunate." "That sounds perfect. I've been working on another song, listen to this." She placed a DVD on the player and her image lit up the screen. She sang an arrangement of the Beatles' 'Help' that amazed me and it fitted so well with what we had planned. "What we should do is to record each of the songs, and I'll send them all to the copyright holders with a letter asking permission to use them and requesting that they waive royalties on the understanding that all proceeds go to the charity. They can listen to your treatment of all of the songs and realise that you have a strong and cohesive project and not something that has been cobbled together. The letter will have a short bio of you and a run-down of your plans. How does that sound?" "Sounds good, you've really been giving this a lot of thought." "That's not all." I took a folder from my bag and spread the contents on the table. "What do you think of these, we need to choose which one we'll use?" She looked at the designs I'd done of letterheads and business cards and even the title page for a newsletter that we'd use to send to those interested parties. The newsletter had an article that I'd written giving a short bio of Imogen and outlining her dreams and aspirations. She read through the article. "I don't know whether I can live up to this hype." "It isn't hype, it's you and as long as you stay 'you' it won't be a problem. Another thing, I've been talking to a friend who's a music producer and shown him your YouTube video and he's interested in producing an album for you and, here's the good part, he's doing it for free, and," I paused here for dramatic effect, "he's arranging for some friends of his to provide whatever backing you need as well as the use of a studio with the Sound Engineer thrown in. What do you say to that?" Imogen didn't say anything for a long time, her lips were otherwise occupied. She'd thrown herself at me and I found myself sprawled on the sofa with her on top of me and I could feel her tears of happiness on my cheeks. She removed her lips long enough to say "I love you" before resuming her kiss for several seconds to the next "I love you". This went on for several minutes until she stopped. "Simon, I want you to make love to me." Her hands had found my hard cock. "He wants you to make love to me and my moist pussy wants you to make love to me." "Whoa there! While I admit that you have turned me on, do you think this is a good idea?" "I think it's a wonderful idea. Let's face it, when you have only a short time to live shouldn't you live it?" "I can't argue with logic like that, but I'm afraid of breaking you." "You won't, and do you know how I know that you won't? Because you are you and I know that you won't hurt me, you'll never hurt me." "Are you sure that you're twenty-one?" She had straddled me and I was admiring her almost pre-pubescent breasts that seemed to have doubled in size under my gentle caresses. My cock was deep inside her and I could feel her tensing her muscles and squeezing it. "Do you want to see my Birth Certificate? Of course I'm twenty-one." She bent down and lay on top of me and I could feel her warmth along my body. "I'm not a virgin, as you've probably realised, and I know that I like making love, but with you I love making love. I am giving myself to you, totally and unconditionally." Imogen's Gift "I know, I can feel your gift to me and I'm returning the favour, my unconditional love, and my promise to make what time we have together the happiest time of your life." "Mmmm, that's what I wanted to hear." She nuzzled my neck. "If I die tomorrow I will have known true happiness." "But you're not going to die tomorrow and your happiness will grow with each day, that much I promise you." I felt her tense and a series of spasms coursed through her body. "My pussy has just found true happiness, that's never happened before. Now it's your turn." No sooner had she said that than my cock spurted its load deep inside her. "Imogen, I've had an idea." It was sometime during the afternoon, in between our love-making, as she lay beside me casually fondling me. "Actually, it's more of a suggestion, would you be offended if I suggested that I provide guitar backing to your singing. I don't mean that you shouldn't play guitar yourself, but I have had a bit of experience." "I'd love that." Her kiss, combined with her manipulation, had the effect of making him stiff a lot quicker than I'd thought possible. After she'd mounted, she looked me in the face, "I'd have to hear you play and judge for myself just how good you are." "Of course, but not right now." I pushed up with my hips that brought a soft 'ooh' from her. An hour later we sat on the edge of her bed and I played her guitar as she sang, I thought we sounded good together, don't get me wrong I was less than perfect, it had been more than a year since I last played in a band. "What do you think? Be gentle with me, I know I wasn't that good." "I thought it sounded great, the acoustics in this room didn't help much, but with a little practice I think we will be great together. A little more practice in other areas wouldn't hurt either." She took the guitar from me and stood it at the foot of the bed before kissing me with that purpose in mind. Over the next three weekends I spent my time at her house and we practiced both the professional and personal aspects of our relationship. Both were going quite nicely thank you. At first I sat in her hallway, it had the right acoustics, with headphones on, playing to the tracks of her songs. I had an editing programme on my computer and I was able to overlay my playing over her singing to see what it sounded like. I had to learn to modulate my playing a little better to blend in with her singing, and Imogen suggested some changes, before we were satisfied with our progress. A month after my first visit we decided that I should move in with her so that we could spend more time together. I took a leave of absence from work so that I could be with her full-time, and slowly we put together twelve songs for an album that I took to my music producer friend. "This is great Simon." Gavin said as the last track faded to a close. "You and Imogen should put this out as soon as possible, the two of you will make a fortune out of this." "We won't make anything from this." "What do you mean?" He said. "We will make nothing. All proceeds from the record sales are to go to a charity that we are setting up called 'Imogen's Gift', the same name we propose to use for the album, and the single from it. Imogen is dying from Leukaemia and hasn't long to live, this charity is to raise money for cancer research. It is Imogen's gift of hope to those cancer sufferers, hope that the money can help find a cure. For her there will be no cure." "Shit, I'm sorry Mate, I didn't know. Okay, this is my deal to you, both of you, I will arrange for the necessary permissions to use the tracks. I will produce it free of charge. I will arrange for a mate to produce a DVD, hopefully free of charge as well, I will talk to record labels to see if I can get one who's prepared to cover the production and distribution costs, as well as maybe 'iTunes' to see if we can get them to list it." "I'll have to discuss it with Imogen before I can give you the go-ahead." I dialled her, our, number. "Hi Darling," I noticed Gavin's eyebrow shoot up at that, "I'm with Gavin, he has volunteered to do all the legwork regarding permissions, he's going to arrange for the production of a DVD and will talk to record companies about release and distribution, what do you think?" "My main concern is that we'll lose control over this whole thing, and I don't want that to happen. Can we have some sort of assurances on that?" "I'll speak to him about it. Hey, I've just had an idea, I'll have to run it by him, but how would it be if we were to put on a concert for 'CanTeen' and record it for the DVD?" (CanTeen is an Australian charity for young cancer sufferers that provides services such as counselling, and camps, for the young cancer sufferers, as well as to help kids with brothers and sisters and parents suffering from cancer, deal with their life issues.) "You can leave that part of it to me, I've been with them from the time my mother was diagnosed." "Imogen wants a guarantee that she doesn't lose creative control of all of this. She's suggested that she gives a concert for CanTeen and the DVD can be a recording of that. What do you think?" "How soon can she arrange the concert?" "She'll speak with them and we'll get back to you with a time. One thing, I think that we should start small with this, I don't know what sort of venue we can get, but, because I don't want to put too much pressure on her, I'd prefer something like a venue that holds no more than a couple of hundred people, if the demand's there we can put on more than one show." "I agree, her music doesn't suit a large venue. When do we start?" "I thought that we'd already begun." Things took off with amazing speed. Gavin got the necessary permissions without cost, the copyright holders were only too happy to support us after he explain the situation with Imogen and her illness and the reason for it all. He sent them copies of the twelve songs and were pleased with their comments. His mate had everything organised for the DVD production once the venue was finalised. OriginFM announced the concert over the air and it was picked up by one of the TV News magazine programmes who sent a presenter up to our place to talk to us. Millie Warburton, who apart from appearing on the TV show as a music interviewer, was an announcer with an FM station which broadcast predominately alternative music over a national network. She was so overcome by Imogen's story and her singing that she left us in tears, promising that it would get airplay before the concert. The response to this was that, because of Imogen's health, we had to limit the number of concerts to five, we could have sold out twice that many if we'd been charging for them, but they were free to cancer kids and their families first, with any remaining seats sold on a strict ration system. It took us a while to set up the stage of the small hall so that we achieved the right acoustics, we even got a whole bunch of people to sit in the audience so that we could be sure of the effect of a crowd. We had erected a half hexagonal screen, painted in a blue/grey colour, behind where we would be sitting. There was soft backlighting and a filtered spot over Imogen's high stool. I would be sitting a little behind and to one side, just in the wash of the spotlight. Imogen had a mike set up to pick up her acoustic guitar and a voice mike, while I had the single mike on my guitar. We did the final sound and lighting check half an hour before the audience were to arrive, and everyone was satisfied, especially the DVD camera crew. They showed us the playback and Imogen hugged me. "It's perfect, just as I imagined it would be." There were tears in her eyes so I kissed them away. Our first surprise came just before we were due on stage, I was under the impression that Gavin would do the introductions, at least that's what we had rehearsed, but the Millie who had interviewed us had volunteered her services. The second surprise was the number of people in the audience, the hall was packed with people standing around the walls. The house lights went down and the stage lights rose. There was an expectant hush. Millie walked on stage to a modest round of applause from the kids in the audience, some of whom listened to her radio programme. "Kids, families of kids, tonight is for you. I recently had the honour to interview Imogen for TV and I was blown away by, not only her talent, but her drive to bring joy and understanding to you. You will have noticed the cameras around the place and out the back there is a sound production team recording tonight for a CD and DVD. All of the proceeds from these will go to a charity called 'Imogen's Gift' that has been set up to help finance cancer research and to support you guys here at CanTeen." This was greeted with loud applause. "Those of you who have been on a desert island for the last couple of months may not be aware that Imogen has leukaemia, and has been given only a few months to live. You kids know what that means, and through CanTeen you know that this isn't the end of the world, some survive and some unfortunately don't, some give in to this illness while others don't. Imogen, I'm happy to say, has not given in, and tonight she is going to share with you her message of hope for the future. Kids, give a great welcome to Imogen Ferrier!" Imogen walked on stage to a tumultuous welcome, the muted backlighting highlighted her frail body. I slipped in and took my seat as she looked out over the crowd. "Kids, tonight is my gift to you." More noise until she had taken her seat on the stool and waited while I played the intro to 'Help'. I didn't know what it was, but she seemed to lift, her voice took on a strength that hadn't been in it before. It still had the quality that I'd come to love, but it took on a purpose that lifted it. Each song was greeted with applause and the applause as it finished was loud and sustained. What really blew me away, and everyone around us, was her final song, her trademark song, 'I Will Survive', as she reached the final chorus the kids rose and joined in, singing their hearts out. The final 'I Will survive' stopped abruptly as it did on that original YouTube video, and there was a pause for a good thirty seconds before the crowd erupted in louder and more sustained applause. Imogen held her hand out to me and I joined her centre stage as she took her bow. She smiled at me, and in front of the whole audience she kissed me. "Kids, would you please give a round of applause for my man, Simon Porter, the man responsible for organising this show tonight, and the man who has given me the strength to be here, tonight is my gift to him as well." After the applause died down, we left the stage to be met by a crowd of people we didn't know, all wanting to speak with us. We sat in the kitchen of the hall that had doubled as our dressing room and the sound and DVD production suites, trying to sort order from the chaos. Millie stepped in and addressed the crowd of reporters. "Imogen is an amazing talent who, unfortunately, has only a short time to live. She has decided to devote what little time she has left to establishing a charity, 'Imogen's Gift' to raise money for cancer research and for CanTeen. Everything that happened here tonight happened because a whole bunch of music industry people got behind her cause and donated their valuable time and expertise for her. When approached for the necessary permissions to use their music, the copyright holders of all of the music she used gave her permission without cost. We have made arrangements with the CD and DVD distributors who will give all proceeds of sales to the charity. All monies received by 'Imogen's Choice' will flow to cancer research and CanTeen, not one cent will be used for administrative costs. Imogen will now answer your questions." "Imogen, we all know that you have leukaemia, but is there another reason for this charity?" Imogen looked at the reporter who asked the question. "Yes, I am not the only person in my family who has had cancer. Three years ago my mother died from breast cancer and not that long ago her sister, my aunt, also died of cancer, this time cervical cancer. Cancer appears to run in the family, so one of the things that we will be looking at is research into whether people are born with a genetic disposition to cancer." "What can you tell us about your relationship with Simon, how long ago did you meet and under what circumstances?" "We met because of the YouTube video I put out a few months ago. He saw it and guessed that I had cancer and came to see me to volunteer to help me. There was an obvious connection between us and it has grown from there." "So, are you considering marriage in the not too distant future?" "We don't have a too distant future and are happy with our present arrangement. We love each other and live together. He is my constant shoulder to cry on and the glue that holds me together and supports me. Without him I would be sitting in a darkened room in a little cottage up in the mountains, probably feeling sorry for myself. As it is I'm here with you all tonight feeling pretty good with life and with myself, but wondering how long it will be before Simon and I are tucked up in bed." Millie stepped in. "I think that will be all for tonight, there is another show tomorrow night and I'm thinking that, impossible as it would seem, it will be better than tonight. Tonight was Imogen's first ever public performance and I think she did an amazing job of it, don't you?" It's not often you see hard-nosed journalists in tears, but tonight was one such occasion. Imogen and I had booked into a hotel for the time that we had to be in Sydney for the concerts, and so she could keep an appointment with her Oncologist for more tests and treatment. "Simon, I have an important question that I have to ask the Oncologist tomorrow." "What is it, you're not feeling tired because of tonight are you? If you are we can always cancel a couple of shows." "No, how could I feel tired after tonight, that was better than all of the medication in the world. No, I have to ask him whether I should continue on with my pregnancy." "What? How long have you known?" "I took one of those home pregnancy tests today to confirm it. It looks like it could have been the first time we made love that did it, I'm pretty sure that I was ovulating around then. I want more than anything to have this baby, and the fact that I'm having your child has given me a much greater motive to stay alive. But if he says that it's too dangerous, I'll have to consider a termination. Are you happy for me, for us?" "How could I not be happy, I've never seen you looking so happy and so well, it's almost as if whatever controls the cancer has decided to allow you a new lease on life, I can only hope that it's a permanent lease." "I don't think that's possible, at best it will extend for the full term of the pregnancy." "Is that what you want?" "I want more, I want forever, but I need another six months, and that's pretty much all I can expect." She snuggled against me, "I'm happy and that's what counts, how long I stay happy is up to you and me." "I'll do whatever it takes to make sure of your happiness." I kissed her. "I love you so much, I want to marry you so much." "I would love to marry you, but it's not necessary, I love you and I know that you love me, and that's all that matters to me." "I don't know who's the happiest here, you or me." "Let's call it a dead heat." The next day brought a surprise. The demand for concert tickets was so great that CanTeen arranged for a big screen to be set up outside the hall, so that those without tickets could enjoy the show. Priority seating was still given to the cancer kids and their families. The show went off better than the previous night, everyone knew what to expect and we made sure that no-one went away disappointed, even those outside. Meanwhile we had kept the appointment with the Oncologist. Imogen told him of her pregnancy. "Are you sure that this is the right thing to be doing?" He asked. "Yes, Simon and I are very much in love and making love is very much a part of our relationship, and my getting pregnant is a natural progression to that. I've never been happier and, believe me, I've never felt better, not for years." He poked and prodded and took blood samples and all of those other things that are done on these occasions. "I have to agree with you, I haven't seen you looking this well, or indeed this happy. We'll have to monitor your pregnancy very carefully, and the first sign of complications a decision will have to be made, the last thing I want to see is you dying in the third trimester and us having to make a decision as to whether to attempt to deliver the foetus and try and save it. Having said that, I can't see any problems at this stage but I'm referring you to a Gynaecologist friend of mine, who can give you a thorough examination just to make sure." He picked up the phone from his desk and dialled a number. "Charles, Peter here, I have a very special case for you, one of my patients is pregnant and I want her to have a thorough going over to see if everything's as it should be, and let me warn you, if you stuff it up the world will know all about it, she's something of a celebrity." There was some faint mumbling that we couldn't decipher. "You have heard of the latest sensation Imogen Ferrier, yes the very one, when can you see her?" He looked at us. "Can you go straight over?" "Yes." "Okay, go to the reception area and his secretary will meet you there." As we got up he was back on the phone. "They're on their way. Thank you for this." (Back to us.) "I don't suppose I can get a copy of your CD, for my daughter." He added quickly. "Sure thing, we'll have one sent over." Imogen looked at me as I was just about to say something about him being as tight as a fish' arsehole, so I left the thought unsaid. The walk to the reception area took longer than expected, Imogen's new found celebratory status took care of that, we were stopped several times by people asking for an autograph and a mobile phone photo opportunity. Imogen was not the type to refuse these requests, so we were a little late to meet Charles' secretary. I was just about to apologise for the wait when she stopped me. "Please, follow me." It was a short walk and the looks that we got when we were led through the waiting room full of pregnant women, was at first one of anger, then one of amazement at seeing Imogen and they probably forgot that they had been waiting for some time, knowing hospital clinic waiting rooms. I had to wait outside while the examination took place, Imogen didn't have a problem with me being there but Charles did. I was soon called in. "Imogen is three months pregnant and all appears to be in order. I have had a long talk with Peter and we are going to have you come in at least once a week just to be certain that it stays that way. He tells me that he's scaled back on your chemo, so that shouldn't be too much of a problem. All that I can say is, 'don't overdo it and no world tours, please." The fact that Imogen was seen going into a Gynaecologist's rooms led people to jump to the conclusion that she was pregnant and this news was all over the media by evening. Before she began her songs Imogen addressed the audience. "You will probably have heard by now the rumour going around that I'm pregnant, let me set the record straight. I am in a committed relationship with Simon here," she pointed to me, "and yes, we can announce the great news that we are expecting our first child. It may be our last, who knows, but we couldn't be happier with this news. We have been told to take it easy, what do you think, should we?" Imogen's Gift "NO!" I played the intro and Imogen began to sing. The mood of this audience was more upbeat that that of last night's audience, it was as if they were wishing us all the happiness and good health that we'd need to see ourselves through this. Imogen was showing signs of fatigue after the final show so I had no hesitation in refusing Gavin's suggestion for concerts in Melbourne. Gavin had assumed the role of our manager and was the bearer of good tidings, CD and DVD sales were going gangbusters and the money was pouring in to the 'Imogen's Gift' bank accounts, we would soon have to make decisions on who, apart from CanTeen, would benefit. We knew that we'd made it when the fictitious 'true stories' appeared of Imogen and I, and our relationship, not to mention our child who, we were reliably told by the glossies, was a boy and would be named 'Matthew' after my father. There was even an article that suggested that Imogen was not suffering from leukaemia at all, that she was in fact anorexic. Gavin had a lawyer on that case, and a retraction and apology was published in all media. We were kept busy, Imogen was asked to give regular motivational talks to CanTeen kids and I went along to lend my support and make sure that she didn't overdo it. She suggested that I could give talks to the families of kids on living with cancer sufferers. At first I wasn't sure that I could do it, but she convinced me to try. "Living with Imogen is not what I expected it to be when I first met her. I expected that I would have to do everything for her, but that hasn't been the case. She has a strength of character that never ceases to amaze me, and she credits me for that but I don't know. I see my role as supporting her in every way, but not doing everything for her. If I don't allow her to be herself and be as self-sufficient as possible I would be telling her that she has no hope left and that she should just go ahead and die. These are the things that I bring to her, love and hope. She is in no doubt that I love her, and that knowledge, along with her love for me, gives her the hope, and the motivation, to make every precious moment that we have together, as good and as happy as we can." "When she had her pregnancy confirmed we had to think long and hard about our situation. We were faced with two choices, the first was for Imogen to have a termination, and her doctor would have had no hesitation in granting that if that was our decision. Disappointed yes, because he knew that she had a strong drive to reach her life goals. Our second choice was to go ahead with the pregnancy and pray that the outcome would be positive. We have around us the very best medical team who have our happiness in mind, and are dedicated to our health and happiness and that of our child, who, despite what the media has speculated, we don't know whether is a boy, or a girl." "We have made the decision to cut back on our public speaking commitments, so this will probably be the last one until after our baby is born. We will resume when Imogen has recovered fully. Please, would you pray for us, the three of us?" There was a drama just after Imogen entered her third trimester, she was suffering from abdominal pains and there was a small amount of blood coming from her vagina. She spent a week in hospital until she managed to convince the doctors that she would get better faster at home. When she reached her eighth month I spoke with my parents and, because it was a lot closer to the hospital than our place, they invited us to stay with them until after the baby was born. Mum and Imogen spent a lot of time together, I think they talked a lot about me because Imogen suddenly knew more about me than I had ever discussed with her. "She's a lovely girl Simon, I can understand why you are so besotted with her. You must take very good care of her, and the baby, because if you don't you will have me to answer to." "I am taking good care of them." I assured her. "I love Mum. She is going to spoil us rotten, you realise that don't you? And, for a while at least, I'm going to let her. For a while, but not forever, I want to be standing on my own two feet as quickly as possible. I wonder how old he or she will have to be before we start doing concerts again." "Don't think that far ahead, we have to get through this bit first." "But if I don't think ahead I might not get through this." "Yes we will, we will make it, we will survive." It was two in the morning when Imogen woke me. "Simon, I need to get to the hospital, fast." I helped her out of bed and into a robe, scribbled a hurried note to Mum , grabbed her bag that had been ready for the past week, and put her in the car. Before starting it I rang the hospital to prepare them for our arrival. Half an hour later she was being pushed into the Neo-natal unit by worried looking nurses. Charles was on his way. The next hour was the longest year of my life, if I'd been a smoker I would have consumed a pack in that time. I paced up and down, casting glances at the TV showing something or other until Charles came in and told me to take a seat. This did not look good. "Simon we have to make a serious decision. I know Imogen wanted a normal delivery but I don't think she has the strength to go through with that. Her labour has taken a lot out of her already and to prolong it could be dangerous for both her and the baby. I think that we have no choice but to do an emergency 'C' section, I know we have no choice. It's up to you now." Shit, what a decision. "Go ahead, I want both of them to get through this." I hadn't even finished before he'd got up and was almost running to the theatre. The next half an hour was longer than the previous hour. Eventually Charles came out. "You'd better come with me, your daughter's fine, but it's taken its toll on Imogen, I hope that seeing you will help." I bent and kissed her through the mask that they made me wear. Her eyes flickered open and she smiled up at me. "I did it Darling, we have a daughter, they tell me she's beautiful, that she looks just like me." "Yes she is, she does look like you. How are you feeling?" "I've been better. Simon, I know that I don't have long, just minutes probably. Please hold me. I love you and I know that you'll look after our baby, she's my gift to you, now kiss me without that mask." I took the mask off and kissed her good-bye. There were two funeral services, the first a small private affair with just a few family and friends and, except for the Millie, the media were excluded. Imogen Porter slept, in her baby capsule, between her grand-mother and a nurse through the whole show. "There has never been a woman like Imogen," I began, "I fell in love with her even before I met her and that love grew until it was taken from me three days ago. Our lives together involved our charity 'Imogen's Gift' that I'm proud to announce, has exceeded all of our expectations. It was the driving force that gave her the motivation to succeed in that project. Her other motivation began with her falling in love with me and the inevitable consequences of that love that's asleep in the front row. It was her wanting to see our child born that carried her through the pregnancy. In her final words to me she told me that Imogen was her gift to me. Apart from her surviving her ordeal, I couldn't have asked for a better gift, a beautiful daughter who will be a constant reminder of my life with Imogen, my love for Imogen, and her love for me. Go in peace my love, go to that better place." Ps: The public memorial service was HUGE, Segments of the 'Imogen's Gift DVD were played on a huge screen and we had eulogies from people that we'd never met, praising her talent and her resilience. The boss of CanTeen gave a moving speech about her work with them and how money they'd been given by our charity was being put to good use providing more counselling services for cancer kids. The final part of the service was Imogen singing 'I Will Survive' and, as had become the fashion since that very first concert, when she reached the last 'I will survive' the crowd joined in. She will survive in the memories of a lot of people, and in the heart of at least one. I will never forget Imogen. I now work full time running 'Imogen's Gift' with a dedicated group of volunteers, many of whom have come from CanTeen. Imogen is growing into the spitting image of her mother and is already singing along, not very well yet, but I can hope, with her mother's DVD. There is no other woman in my life although Millie has been spending quite a lot of her spare time working with us as a volunteer. I suppose that I could do worse.