The Legacy

his tie in the hal way mirror. She lifted her head slightly; any second now he would appear in the doorway, his expression serious as ever, offering her a sherry, enquiring what time supper would be ready even though they always ate at exactly the same time. Always had.
    And there he was. She smiled. ‘Hel o, darling.’
    He frowned; it had been a long time since she’d used that word. A long time since she’d said a lot of things. A long and successful marriage, people cal ed it, raising their eyebrows, looking at her in wonderment. So few relationships had lasted so long. Longevity had given some the impetus to start afresh (many, many times), had instil ed in others the fear of commitment – for a lifetime of commitment was now so long, so terribly long. Without children there was no need for stability; with no family, there was no family unit, just individuals with their own agendas, their own pleasure-seeking journey.
    But not Julia. Not Anthony. They were old-fashioned, she would say to those people with raised eyebrows. They had got used to each other. And if the romance had died long ago, the companionship hadn’t. The kindness hadn’t either, not entirely.
    They were fond of each other.
    They’d come a long way.
    ‘Sherry?’
    Julia smiled. ‘I’d love one.’
    Anthony walked over to the drinks cabinet and took out two glasses and a bot le, fil ing them to the same spot he always fil ed them. So many lit le routines, Julia found herself thinking. Long life, short life – did it mat er when each day was the same, when humans were incapable of living for the moment because of their fundamental need for order, for the comfort of everyday routine?
    He handed her a glass and she took a sip.
    ‘What time’s supper?’ he asked, already walking towards the door.
    She smiled. ‘Does it mat er?’
    There was a silence; Anthony took a few seconds to register her answer. Slowly he stopped, turned round. He looked tired. Everyone looked tired these days.
    ‘Whatever do you mean?’
    ‘I mean, does it mat er?’ Julia said. She stood up, walked towards her husband, put her glass down on the mantelpiece and wrapped her arms around his neck.
    ‘We’ve had a good life, haven’t we, Anthony?’ she asked. ‘We’ve had our adventures, our holidays. We’ve lived wel , haven’t we?’
    Anthony nodded. ‘We live very wel ,’ he said. ‘And we wil continue to do so. So, Anthony nodded. ‘We live very wel ,’ he said. ‘And we wil continue to do so. So, what time is supper?’
    ‘For how long?’ Julia whispered.
    He frowned. ‘Julia, what’s wrong with you? What are you trying to say?’
    ‘How long wil we continue to do so?’ Julia said. ‘It isn’t going to last, is it, Anthony?
    We’re going to die. I know we are.’
    ‘We are not going to die.’ Anthony stepped back, his eyes flashing with anger. ‘I won’t have you say such things in this house. The Authorities are clear on the mat er. Longevity supply was sabotaged. The perpetrator is being held and questioned. There is no reason to –’
    ‘I saw the van,’ Julia said quietly. ‘They took my hairdresser. He wasn’t an Underground agent. The van was ful of dead people, diseased people.’ There was a flicker of something in her husband’s eyes. Fear? Recognition?
    ‘I saw inside,’ Julia continued. ‘The Authorities are lying.’
    ‘Lying?’ Again the anger, the defensiveness. ‘The Authorities do not lie. It is sedition to ut er those words.’
    Julia shook her head defiantly. She could feel tears pricking at her eyes. ‘I won’t be taken away like that,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I won’t. I’d rather stop taking Longevity.
    I’d rather die here with you, comfortably, on our own terms.’
    Anthony’s eyes widened. ‘You’re talking like a madwoman,’ he said uncertainly, downing his sherry in one. He stood up, walked back to the drinks cabinet and poured himself another. ‘What has got into you?’
    ‘Nothing has got into me,’ Julia said, blinking away a stray tear. ‘Just . . .’ She walked over to her husband. ‘We’ve had a good run. We’ve been happy. Haven’t we?’
    ‘Of course we have,’ he said irritably. ‘Julia, please stop this rambling. Are you drunk?’
    She leant against his chest, remembered how smal she used to feel when he wrapped his arms around her in the early days. He was a tal man and she’d loved that about him – loved the feeling that he would always look after her. Now she