Never Say Goodbye (24 page)

Lies, more lies.

‘I hope it’s good,’ he retorted, throwing down his keys, ‘because mine is.’

Surprised and intrigued, she said, ‘OK, you first.’

‘No, no, go on, let’s hear what yours is. Did you get the job?’

Feeling anxious, since she could already guess how he was going to react to what she was about to tell him, she said, ‘Well, I’ve been checking online with the Department of Work and Pensions and it turns out I’d get more on benefits than I do working if I . . .’

His expression darkened. ‘You should have known that already,’ he growled, ‘but it’s not who we are. We work for a living, not like all them scroungers out there.’

‘You keep saying that, Jeff, but most of them are finding it as difficult to get a job as we are . . .’

‘But we’re still managing to keep the wolf from the door without going looking for handouts. No, Josie, you’re not signing up for benefits and that’s that. We’ll get through this difficult patch, same as we always do, and that’s where my news comes in. I’ve only got a fare to Heathrow tomorrow
and
wait for this, one back again. That’ll net me over six hundred quid, plus tip if I get one.’

Josie’s eyes rounded in amazement. ‘
Six hundred quid,
’ she echoed incredulously.

He was grinning in a way that got her laughing. ‘What did I tell you?’ he chuckled, as she came to hug him, ‘we’ll get through this difficult patch, and if you ask me I reckon our luck’s already changing, because with that sort of money I’ll be able to get my car back on the road, or make the first couple of payments on a new one.’

‘Tell you what, I’ll make something special tonight to celebrate,’ she declared rashly. ‘Or shall we go out somewhere? It’s been ages since we last went into town for a night out.’

‘Steady on there,’ he cautioned, ‘I haven’t got the cash in my hand yet, but we’ll do something when I have. Now, I only came home to pick up one of those air-freshener things our Lily gave me for Christmas. I thought they could start doing their stuff in time for the Heathrow run tomorrow.’

‘You mean the ones you hang from the rear-view mirror? If you haven’t already used them I expect they’re in the drawer on your side of the bed.’

Making sure her folder of brochures and factsheets was out of sight, Josie went to put on the kettle. He might welcome a cuppa before going out again.

‘Don’t have time,’ he told her, snatching up his keys as he came back downstairs. ‘And you ought to be out there looking for a job, not sat here working out how much you could get if you signed on.’

Josie flinched as the door slammed behind him. She didn’t blame him for getting on at her, she felt like getting on at herself the way she was sitting around here doing nothing all day. Well, not nothing, exactly, because she always had plenty of housework to keep her busy, and for months now she’d been meaning to sort out Lily’s and Ryan’s old clothes and toys for the charity shop. She’d make a start on it just as soon as she’d drunk her tea, and if the bags weren’t too heavy by the time she’d finished she could take them up to the high street today. She might even have a browse around the shop while she was there to see if there was something suitable to wear for a night out in town.

Or for when she was having chemo. She’d found websites that recommended wearing tracksuits for this (or ‘snazzy pyjamas’, someone had suggested), and hers were a bit tatty now.

Feeling the dread of what was to come hardening like a stone in her chest, she took a deep breath and tried to carry on as though it wasn’t happening.
Drink your tea, rinse the cup, wipe down the worktop and empty the bin.

She’d found another website earlier called Cancer be Glammed, but it turned out to be American and anyway, she’d never have been able to afford the silk scarves or handy bags or clever-zip sweatshirts they were promoting.

What the heck was she doing, worrying about what to wear when it could hardly matter less? It was like pretending to be deaf when someone was screaming for help, or blind as a truck came speeding towards her. What she needed to do was stop being so bloody cowardly and get back on the computer to read up about her treatment and the type of cancer she had. She might not be able to do anything about it herself, but learning about it had to be better than tiptoeing around like she was afraid of waking it up. If she was a bit better informed she might be able to work out how to break it to Jeff.

Several hours later she was still sitting in front of the computer, aching and stiff and wishing with all her heart that she’d gone out, or got on with the cleaning, or done anything except this. That was the trouble with plucking up the courage to do something you really didn’t want to; once you had there was no going back.

Getting to her feet she went into the kitchen to make some tea. She hadn’t felt this afraid, or alone, since she’d thought Jeff was going to leave her for Dawnie; or when she’d waited to hear if Ryan was going to be sent down, only in its way this felt worse. Apparently there was nothing about the type of cancer cells she had dividing and growing inside her that was temporary or unthreatening. From what she’d just read hers were aggressive, fast-moving, a rampant living force intent on taking her over.

Until this minute she hadn’t allowed herself to think about dying; now she could think of nothing else. She was teetering on the edge of panic. Even as she stood there, trying to take it all in, the cancer was at work spreading through her lymph channels, breast tissue and even threatening her skin.

Feeling suddenly sick she bent over the sink and retched.

Nothing came up, but it was several minutes before she could stand straight again. She was still shaking; her eyes were watering, her head felt as though she’d banged it against the wall.

She took a breath and heard it waver and sob into her lungs.

She had to find a way of coping with this. If she didn’t no one else would be able to, and she couldn’t let her family fall apart. It was her job as wife and mother to be strong for them and make sure they always knew she was there to keep them together. If she was going to cry the way she was now, stupidly, loudly, self-pityingly, she’d have to do it in private; if she needed to shout and rant and swear at God, she’d wait until no one was around. She might even go to the church and give him a piece of her mind – except if she did that he might pay her back by doing something bad to Lily or Ryan.

He wasn’t a merciful God; he was cruel, vindictive, had no time for people who already had enough problems on their plates, thank you very much. Well let him stew in his meddling, because it was going to be all right, she’d make sure of it. She just needed to stay in control of her emotions, and go back in there and read everything through again to make sure she understood it properly. It could be that fear had made her blow it out of proportion, or shock had blinded her to something vital that would put a more positive picture on it all.

Half an hour later, certain now that it was as bad as she feared, she forced herself to pick up the phone. Mr Beck had said she could call any time, so she was going to ring and ask if it was possible to have her breast off straight away. Better that than spend the next however many months feeling like hell thanks to the chemo, while this vile cancer, that had got the wrong person, tried to take over her body. Why not cut it out now and be done with it?

‘You look hassled,’ Bel commented, as Harry joined her at a table in one of the hospital’s coffee shops. Being early afternoon, their only companions were the lady serving and an elderly man snoozing over a sandwich at a table just inside the door.

‘I’ve just spent the past twenty minutes,’ he replied, removing his coat, ‘trying to explain to a patient why she should have chemotherapy before a mastectomy, rather than going for the mastectomy straight away.’

‘And were you successful?’

He sighed and nodded. ‘I think so.’

‘But you’re still troubled?’

‘Yeah, I guess so, but only because it’s a hell of a thing for anyone to go through, as you know only too well.’

‘Is she young?’

‘Early forties; two grown-up children. Usually it’s the ones with very young kids that get to me, like your sister, but there’s something about this one . . . To be honest, she seems more concerned about her family than she is about herself, though I guess that’s not so unusual.’ He sighed and dashed a hand through his already dishevelled hair, then apparently making an effort to let the matter go, he brightened as he said, ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘The feeling’s mutual,’ she replied, ‘and I’m sorry I didn’t make it before today. I hope you got my messages.’

‘Of course. Something about buying an old barn?’

‘Indeed, and I need to move swiftly in case the farmer decides to double-cross me and sell to somebody else.’

Sitting back as the server brought his coffee, he said, ‘So where is the barn?’

‘Just outside Dodderton. There’s a massive amount to do before I can even begin the conversion, but I’m in need of a massive project so it couldn’t have come at a better time. Anyway, don’t get me started or I’ll bore you to death with it. I have the tickets and I see from the date that they’re for next Thursday, which could be a problem? Isn’t that your day for surgery?’

‘It’ll be fine,’ he assured her. ‘I should be through by three, four at the latest, so if I drive like the clappers I could make it for seven, is it?’

‘That’s right. It’s the opening, so you’ll be treated to champagne and speeches and no doubt the artist himself will be there.’

Though clearly impressed, his eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, ‘Will he know I’ve got my tickets through you?’

‘Through Nick,’ she corrected, ‘and yes, he will. So, if he tries to engage you in conversation . . . Well, I’m sure you’ll be happy to talk about his art, but if he should ask about how you know Nick, I’d be grateful if you left me out of it.’

‘Of course,’ he agreed.

She smiled. ‘So, who have you decided to take with you?’ she enquired, moving them on to safer ground.

‘A cousin who lives in Chiswick. He’s also a big fan, so I’ve shot way up in his estimation since I rang to say I had tickets. I’ll probably stay over at his place rather than attempt to drive back that night. Do you want to get that?’ he prompted, as her phone started to ring.

Seeing it was Nick she said, ‘It’s OK, I’ll ring him later,’ and letting the call go to messages, she changed the subject again. ‘So how are bookings going for The Medics? Any more gigs coming up?’

Laughing, he said, ‘Not for the next couple of weeks, but would you believe we’ve been asked to play at a bat mitzvah at the end of March? Actually, it might be slightly more impressive if the bat-ee, or whatever you call her, wasn’t our drummer’s niece, but hey, if they’re up for it, who are we to let them down?’

Amused by his modesty, she said, ‘If the way you got everyone dancing at the White Hart is anything to go by, it should be a great party.’

‘Let’s hope so. Actually, we’ve had an enquiry from your guys to play at the beginning and end of a walk at Blenheim Palace.’

Realising he must be referring to Breast Cancer Care’s annual Pink Ribbonwalk, she said, ‘Well that should get things off to a rousing start.’ Last year she and Nick had walked in memory of Talia; this year, if she made it, she’d do the same, but probably alone.

I have some news,
Nick had said,
I’ve been offered a position at the University of Sydney and I’m probably going to take it.

‘Are you OK?’ Harry asked.

‘Of course,’ she replied, releasing her breath. ‘So will you be joining the walk, or limiting yourself to the musical accompaniment?’

‘Probably the latter if we need to play everyone out and back again. I expect my wife and Semeena, my cousin who you met, will represent the Becks.’ He took another sip of his coffee and glanced at his watch.

‘You have to go,’ she said for him.

‘I’m afraid so. It’s one of those days, same as all the others.’

‘Well, far be it from me to keep you from those whose need is far greater.’

Though his expression was droll, all he said as he stood up was, ‘It’s been great seeing you, albeit brief, and thanks for bringing the tickets. I haven’t forgotten I owe you big time, and I’m determined to pay the debt.’

‘You really don’t have to,’ she assured him, allowing him to help her into her raincoat.

As they reached the door, he asked, ‘Will you be interested to know what I think of the show?’

She couldn’t help but smile. ‘If you want to tell me, I’ll be happy to listen,’ she replied, but only because it was him. Were it anyone else she wouldn’t want the subject raised.

Seeming pleased with that, he said, ‘Good, then I’ll ring when I get back and hopefully you’ll let me buy you dinner to say thanks,’ and before she could object he pushed the door open for her to go ahead of him.

‘Ah, rain,’ he declared, as if it hadn’t been pouring down for most of the month. ‘Where’s your car?’

As she started to answer an ambulance sped into A&E, siren blaring. ‘In the pay and display over by Blackberry Hill,’ she replied when she could.

‘Then I’ll walk part of the way with you,’ and taking her umbrella, he held it over them both as they started along one of the hospital’s main artery roads.

Trying not to feel so conscious of how close they were, she said, ‘Are you up to anything special for the weekend?’

‘Well, depends what you term special,’ he replied. ‘I’ll have the boys all to myself while their mother’s out of town at some conference. How about you? Are your niece and nephew going to be with you?’

‘No, not this weekend.’ Her words seemed to fall into the emptiness that lay ahead. ‘They’re going away with their father and stepmother.’

‘Oh? Somewhere nice?’

‘To see Kristina’s parents.’ She wondered how they were going to take the happy news of their daughter starting a new life down under. ‘It’ll give me the chance to get some preliminary plans together for the architect,’ she ran on. ‘I’m meeting him at the barn on Tuesday to start playing around with ideas.’