Never Say Goodbye (12 page)

Hardly able to breathe now, Josie watched Yvonne lay a paper sheet over the bed. Sitting on to it, she swung her legs up and lay back awkwardly. She wished there was a pillow, because being so flat was making her feel more vulnerable.

Mr Beck was right about the gel being cold, but the feel of the probe, as he called it, was a bit like he was giving her some sort of massage. She stole a glance at the monitor beside her, but it only showed a lot of shadowy images and since he didn’t explain what they were she was none the wiser.

‘OK,’ he said, replacing the probe and wheeling his chair away from the couch, ‘time to go with Yvonne for a mammogram. I’m guessing, given your age, that you’ve never had one before?’

She shook her head.
And she didn’t want one now.

Yvonne was handing her a bunch of paper towels to wipe the gel off her breasts.

She almost blurted out something about her boobs not having received this much attention in years, but thankfully managed not to. It would be right off colour, and make her sound a proper saddo. Not that Jeff neglected them or anything, but he was a lot less thorough with his foreplay these days than he’d been when they were first together.

Putting on the gown Yvonne was passing her, she followed the nurse out into the corridor and along to the mammogram room. She’d heard about these X-rays, of course, but now she was about to find out for herself how painful it was to have your boobs squeezed between two square plates and a massive machine come down on them.

The only good thing about it was that it didn’t take very long.

‘There, hopefully not too bad,’ the radiographer smiled as she ended the session. ‘You can get dressed again now, then if you pop back to the waiting room the nurse will come and get you as soon as Mr Beck’s ready.’

As the door closed behind her Josie found herself starting to shake, which made it really hard to get her bra done up. What was the matter with her? She’d been all right a minute ago, and now she seemed to be all over the place.

I need a cup of tea,
she decided, and once she’d finished zipping up her parka she went in search of one. The drinks machine in the waiting room turned out to be on the blink, so she settled for a plastic mug of cool water and returned to the chair she’d been in before.

There were a few more people in here now, none she recognised from earlier, but once again they were mostly in twos. Apart from one woman who had no hair, it wasn’t possible to tell the patients from the companions. The bald woman had lovely big brown eyes, she noticed, and her skin was like porcelain. She was laughing at something the woman with her was saying.

Josie’s eyes went down as tears welled up from nowhere and threatened to spill on to her cheeks.

Bel was parking her car next to the sea wall on Kesterly Promenade, half smiling to herself as she remembered how she and Talia used to tease each other over their crush on Harry Beck.

‘We have to have some perks while we’re going through this,’ Talia used to say. ‘I swear, if I weren’t married, and down to one boob, I’d be making a play for him by now.’

‘I don’t think he’d mind about the one boob,’ Bel would reply, ‘but I bet his wife gets fed up with all his fans.’

‘Do you think everyone fancies him, not just us?’

‘Are you kidding? Anyway, speak for yourself. He’s not my type.’

It was true, he wasn’t, though not because she wasn’t attracted to him, despite how good-looking he was, and charismatic and heroic (for those who survived, and even those who didn’t, given how hard he fought for them), but because he was married. In her book that made him strictly off limits, and anyway he’d never once given her, or Talia, the impression that he had anything but a professional interest in them. He was friendly, of course, but she was certain he was like that with all his patients, and his ability to make a person feel as though they mattered more than anything was almost certainly a gift any surgeon would want.

‘How lovely to see you,’ he’d said, capturing her with those velvety brown eyes of his as he’d taken her into the Visitors’ Room earlier. ‘But what are you doing here? Please don’t tell me . . .’

‘No, no, I haven’t had a referral,’ she quickly assured him. ‘And my latest check told me I’m still in the clear.’ She had yearly mammograms now, and would continue to for the rest of her life, or until they found something in her. If they did, it wouldn’t be the same cancer that Talia had suffered from, because she wasn’t carrying the gene. How could Talia have had it and not her? ‘I’m still doing the occasional volunteer work for Breast Cancer Care,’ she explained, ‘so I brought these along.’

‘Excellent,’ he responded, taking the leaflets from her. ‘A great organisation. I’ve given a couple of talks for them in the past.’

She knew, since she and Talia had attended one of them.

‘So how are you?’ he asked. ‘You’re looking great.’

‘Thank you,’ she smiled. He’d remember, of course, how she’d shaved her head when Talia had lost her hair so Talia wouldn’t feel so alone, or keep being reminded of how she’d been before the chemo had done some of its worst. ‘Life feels a little different to when I last saw you.’

‘I’m sure it does.’ He was still regarding her intently, maybe even seeing through the mask she put on for the world. ‘You and Talia were very close,’ he stated, telling her with those few words that he understood how the loss, much like the cancer, didn’t just go away, and maybe for a twin it stayed even longer. ‘How’re Nick and the children?’

Touched that he’d ask, she told him about Kristina and how pleased she was for her brother-in-law that he’d found someone else already.

‘It’s often the case,’ he responded, ‘that someone who was happily married is keen to repeat the experience after their partner dies, so I hope it works out for him and his new wife.’ He glanced at his watch.

‘You have appointments,’ she said.

‘I’m afraid so, but it was good to see you.’

It had been good to see him too, in spite of all the painful memories it had evoked, memories that continued to swirl around her as she left. He’d played such a vital role in trying to save Talia that a part of Bel would always feel attached to him just for that.

Still feeling the poignancy of the short encounter, she pushed open the door of the Seafront Cafe and went to one of the window booths. She and Talia had fallen into a habit of coming here before chemo sessions. Though Talia wouldn’t eat one of the full English breakfasts herself, she loved to pick at Bel’s, always stealing the sausage and usually managing a mushroom or two.

Bel hadn’t driven down to the Promenade with the intention of coming to the café. She was only here because she was early for her meeting at the town hall to discuss plans for renovating the summer house at the end of her garden. Ordinarily she’d have left the car in the underground park on Victoria Square, but for some reason she’d driven on to the front and ended up here.

It couldn’t be that Talia was guiding her moves, that was just nonsense. However, since no one had ever been able to prove or disprove that there was life hereafter, maybe she shouldn’t dismiss it. Why not imagine what she’d say were she able to talk to Talia now? Maybe she’d try to find out what it was like where Talia was, if Talia really was waiting for the other part of herself, her twin, to come and join her. She wanted to ask so many questions, like did Talia mind that Nick had married again? What did she think of Kristina? Was it tearing her apart to be able to see the children and not be able to touch them? Was she with their mother now; had their mother forgiven Bel for what she’d done?

‘Can I get you something?’

Bel looked up at the waitress whose name badge said Fliss, and whose creased complexion told of too much stress, lots of cigarettes and probably more than her share of sleepless nights.

‘It’s mostly self-service,’ Fliss told her, ‘but we’re not exactly run off our feet today.’

Bel smiled as she glanced around the empty café. ‘I’ll have a peppermint tea,’ she said.

The waitress cocked her head to one side. ‘Don’t I recognise you?’ she asked curiously. ‘I know, you used to come in here with your sister. Funny, I didn’t recognise you at first, I suppose I got so used to seeing double where you two were concerned.’ She laughed at her little joke. ‘It was the peppermint tea that tipped me off. You’re the only one who ever had it, and your sister used to order cappuccino with a full English.’

Realising Fliss thought she was Talia, Bel was about to correct her when she decided there was no point. ‘You have a very good memory,’ she told her. ‘Do you remember all your customers’ orders?’

Fliss’s smile was wry. ‘We don’t have that extensive a menu to make it difficult to remember orders,’ she replied, ‘but no, course I don’t remember them all. We get too many tourists coming in for that. It was just that you and your sister, well, if you don’t mind me saying, you stood out from the crowd, you being twins and so striking and all.’

Realising it was probably the headscarves she and Talia had worn that had made them stand out, Bel simply smiled.

‘Where’s she today then?’ Fliss ran on. ‘No, don’t answer that, I’m just being nosy and I expect you get fed up with people asking when it’s not like you have to be welded at the hip, just because you look the same. I’ll go and get your tea. Let’s hope we’ve still got some, because it’s been a while since we saw you in here.’

Feeling faintly odd about being served tea that had been sitting here as though waiting for Talia’s return, Bel turned to the window and let her eyes travel along the stretch of wind-torn beach opposite to where a small group of children from the Pumpkin playgroup, over by the station, were climbing on to a carousel. Oscar and Nell adored riding that thing, choosing something different every time, a horse, a bus, a police car, a golden carriage. She must bring them here at the weekend, while Nick and Kristina went to a party in London. She was looking forward to having them again. She might treat them to the cinema too, depending on what was showing, and maybe a pizza after.

Taking out the condolence card she’d brought with her, she rummaged for a pen and tried to think what to write to a couple she’d never met, who possibly didn’t even speak English, about the death of their daughter. Their names were Beryx and Jenica Bojin, the police had told her, they lived in a town called Slatina and Anca was the youngest of their three children.

Dear Mr and Mrs Bojin, my name is Isabella Monkton. I’m writing because my sister’s name and address was found on your daughter at the time of her death.

She stopped, wondering if it was too brutal to use that word. Nothing could be as brutal as what they must already be going through, and she couldn’t just ignore it even though they had no idea who she was.

I’m sad to say that my sister, Natalia, has passed on since she and Anca met at the Wayfarer Centre, here in Kesterly, but I know she’d have wanted me to write to you at this time to express her – and my – sadness at your loss. I only wish Anca had called before things got so bad, as I’m sure one of us could have helped her. At the very least we’d have been able to give her shelter and food and take her to a doctor.

Much good that was going to do them, or Anca now.

If there is anything I can do for you at this time, please let me know. My address is on the back of the card.

Respectfully yours,

Isabella

‘There you go, my old love,’ Fliss said, putting a cup and saucer and teapot in front of her. ‘I brought you a couple of biscuits too. Nothing fancy, but they’re on the house.’

Touched, Bel said, ‘That’s lovely, thank you.’

As Fliss walked away, her large hips sashaying under her crisp nylon overall, Bel wondered what her life was like, out of here. Was she married? Did she have children? What kind of tragedies might she have suffered over the years? Almost everyone had been through something, a death, an accident, an illness, a miscarriage of justice, divorce, rape, the loss of a daughter under a viaduct, it could be anything and no one would ever know from looking at them. They simply went about their days the way they had to, putting on a front, doing their best to overcome the challenges life had thrown their way. Some were subjected to more than their fair share, while others got off more lightly.

What was the point of it all, she kept wondering. She could never find a good reason for the world’s cruelties, and these days she no longer wanted to try. Almost nothing seemed to make sense, and apart from Oscar and Nell almost nothing seemed to matter any more.

Josie could hardly believe she was still waiting. Not that hours and hours had gone by, only a couple, in fact, but she’d really expected to be out of here by now and already home. Instead, she was still watching the comings and goings of the unit and had even got into a little chat a while ago with another woman who’d come on her own. It turned out she was having a check-up following a lumpectomy.

‘Lucky they caught it when they did,’ she’d commented. ‘I’m hoping they’re going to say I only need a few sessions of radiotherapy now. No chemo, please God, because you don’t want that if you can avoid it.’

‘No, of course not,’ Josie had agreed. Though she wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about the disease, or its treatment, she’d heard enough about chemo to be sure it wasn’t a route anyone would want to take.

She knew other things now, thanks to sitting here for so long and paying a bit more attention to stuff on the noticeboard. For instance, women of her age were only supposed to have a one in fifty chance of getting breast cancer, which seemed all right as long as you were amongst the forty-nine. If you turned out to be the one, you’d feel really hard done by, wouldn’t you? And then there was the lifetime risk, apparently one in eight, which didn’t sound very good at all.

Still, according to one of the leaflets survival rates were getting better all the time, and, most important of all, her lump could easily turn out to be benign. She wasn’t sure what they’d do if it was, maybe they’d still want to remove it; she guessed she’d find out when they got round to calling her back in.