Never Say Goodbye (42 page)

She never mentioned her father, so Josie didn’t either.

Josie had told her more about Dawnie, and how she missed her as a best friend, but couldn’t forgive what she’d done. She’d even admitted being disappointed that Dawnie hadn’t been in touch when someone was sure to have told her by now that Josie had cancer. She might even have heard it from Jeff.

‘Mum?’ Lily said, giving her a nudge.

Opening her eyes, Josie gave a start when she saw Mr Beck smiling down at her.

‘Having a little snooze?’ he asked as she hurried to get up.

‘Miles away,’ she confessed, feeling slightly dizzy. ‘You’ll be all right here,’ she told Lily. ‘I don’t expect I’ll be long.’

Happy that Mr Beck didn’t contradict her, she followed him along to his consulting room, realising she was starting to shake, not with fear so much as cold. Maybe it was both.

‘OK,’ he said, once they were settled and he had her notes in front of him, ‘you’ve seen Emma Pattullo, the oncologist . . .’

‘Last week,’ she confirmed.

He frowned slightly. ‘Seems like you’ve had a bit of a rough time with side effects?’

‘I’ve lost my hair,’ she tried to laugh, patting the lemon and fuchsia scarf she was wearing, ‘and I’m a good half a stone lighter than when it started.’

‘Are you finding it difficult to eat?’ he asked. ‘Do you have mouth sores?’

She nodded.

‘OK, we’ll give you something to help with that. How are you sleeping?’

‘Actually, not brilliantly,’ she admitted. ‘I’m tired most of the time, but I just can’t seem to switch off.’

‘And you haven’t been to see your GP?’

She shook her head.

‘Then we’ll give you something to help with that too.’ He read on for a while, before turning to face her. ‘So how are the back pains?’ he asked, seeming to give them more importance than she thought they were worth.

‘Well, they come and go,’ she said truthfully. ‘It was definitely better when I was using my Pilates board, so I’m going to make more of an effort to use it again.’ She twinkled playfully. ‘I’ve got my husband on it now,’ she confided. ‘He looks a proper charlie and gives us all a good laugh, but he says it’s helping his back no end, so it just goes to show that it works.’

Smiling, Harry returned to her notes, and she found herself looking at his hands, very elegant for a man, with pale short nails and a scattering of dark hair on the backs. She noticed the slim gold band on his wedding finger and found herself wondering about his wife, if she was Indian too, or Asian anyway, and if they had any children. There were no photographs on his desk, only the double-screen computer and various files. Maybe he had another office somewhere else where he kept his more personal things.

‘OK, let’s take a look at you, shall we?’ he said, removing his glasses as he pushed the file away.

Though she went behind the screen to undress he left the room anyway, and was back a few minutes later with Yvonne, the nurse she’d met before. It was oddly like seeing an old friend, and from the way Yvonne greeted her it seemed she thought so too – except she was probably lovely with everyone who came here.

The examination and ultrasound didn’t seem to take very long, and before she knew it she was sitting back next to his desk. ‘So, is there a chance I might not have to have a mastectomy?’ she asked, secretly crossing her fingers.

He brought his gentle brown eyes to hers in a way that made her heart turn over. ‘No, you won’t have to have a mastectomy,’ he told her, and for some reason she didn’t feel as relieved as she’d expected.

She continued to look at him, wondering why a sense of unreality was coming over her, a sort of effort to detach from where she was – probably because he was still speaking and the tone of his voice was making her feel stranger than ever.

‘. . . the tumour has shrunk, as we’d hoped,’ he was saying, ‘but I’m afraid the results of your latest bone scan are showing that the cancer’s spread.’

She blinked, unable, unwilling, to take it in.
Spread.
That meant . . . She felt suddenly panicked, and wanted to run as far away from here as she could get. ‘I – um, does that mean . . .?’ she stumbled. She looked at Yvonne, and the sorrow in the nurse’s eyes brought a rush of frightened tears to her own.

She swallowed hard, and dug her nails into her palms. Her heartbeat was racing; there was an odd buzzing sound in her ears. She couldn’t form the words she needed to say.

‘Are you saying I’ve got secondaries?’ she finally managed.

‘I’m afraid so,’ he confirmed.

The horror of it tore at her heart, ran through her like a deranged form of panic. ‘So I’m going to die?’ she whispered.

His eyes were still on hers, soothing and fathomless. ‘Not for a very long time if we can help it,’ he told her.

He hadn’t said no.
She’d wanted him to say no, that he could cure it, or that it was possible to operate and remove it, but she knew from what she’d read online that there was no cure for secondaries. She took a breath that was mangled by a sob. ‘Sorry,’ she said, pressing a hand to her mouth.

‘It’s OK,’ he assured her. ‘I know this has come as a shock, but I promise you, we’re going to do everything we possibly can to slow its progress.’

Slow its progress, not stop it!

‘So – so a mastectomy’s no good?’ She’d much rather have dealt with that than with what he was telling her now.

‘We’re going to continue with the chemotherapy,’ he explained, ‘followed by . . .’

‘But if the tumour’s shrunk and I don’t have to have a mastectomy, why do I have to go on with the chemo?’

‘Because we don’t want it to grow again and risk it breaking through the skin.’

Shrinking from the very thought of that, she could only stare at him, wishing she’d never come here to find out what was wrong in the first place.

And what good would that have done you, Josie?

‘At the end of this course of chemotherapy,’ he continued patiently, ‘we’ll assess the situation again, but it’s likely we’ll start you on bisphosphanates.’

What were they when they were at home?
‘Will I still be able to go to my daughter’s wedding?’ she mumbled, trying to think ahead and finding herself more frightened than ever as darkness began obliterating her dreams.

‘Of course,’ he smiled. ‘You have my word on it.’

With no hair, but two boobs. Be thankful for small mercies, Josie.

She wanted to cry so badly it hurt, but she didn’t want to be a nuisance, or to scare Lily when she went back to the waiting room.

He was offering her a tissue, and Yvonne’s hand was on her shoulder. His eyes were so gentle, but they were kind of forceful too, in a way that made her feel as though she was being swept along safely to a place she didn’t want to go.

Time to climb the wooden hill, Josie,
her father used to say, and swinging her up in his arms he’d carry her up to bed, ignoring her protests.
It’s for your own good. Early to bed, early to rise will make a little girl healthy, wealthy and wise.

If he’d stayed around a bit longer it might have worked; as it was, after he’d gone her mother had never really seemed to mind what time she went to tuck herself in.

Remembering what Lily had insisted she put to him, Josie said, ‘My daughter was reading about a new technique . . . I think she said it was called a cell matrix graft, or something like that.’

‘Acellular dermal matrix graft,’ he told her. ‘It’s a form of reconstruction, so I’m afraid it doesn’t apply in your case.’

What did, apart from goodbyes and funeral parlours, and what was it all about anyway?

‘Sorry, I’m not handling this very well,’ she told him, her voice choked with anguish.

‘You’re doing just fine,’ he assured her.

She nodded, slowly, then more firmly. She wondered if she should be asking more about her prognosis, but maybe she’d found out enough for today – and she couldn’t carry on sitting here taking up his time, feeling sorry for herself. He had other people to see who might be in an even worse state than her.

How could it be worse than dying? He hadn’t used that word, but essentially it was what he was saying.

He’d also said they were going to do everything they could to make sure it wouldn’t be for a very long time,
so pull yourself together, Josie, and try to be thankful for all the good things in your life
.

She couldn’t remember what they were.

‘I know it’s difficult to think straight at the moment,’ he said, ‘but is there anything else you’d like to ask?’

He was right, it was hard to think, especially with Lily sitting outside. Although maybe having Lily there was a blessing, because she had to be strong now whether she felt it or not. ‘It’s good, isn’t it,’ she said, needing to carry some positive news out with her, ‘that the tumour’s shrunk?’

‘It is,’ he confirmed.

‘And I don’t have to have a mastectomy?’

He shook his head.

Grasping the useless straws as though they were lifelines, she stood up ready to leave. ‘That’s all right then,’ she said. ‘Thank you very much for . . . Well, for being so nice about it.’

Standing up too, he asked, ‘Is someone here with you?’

‘Yes, my daughter,’ she reminded him, ‘but I’d rather she didn’t know anything yet, if you don’t mind. I’ll tell her another time.’

‘Of course.’ He stood aside for her to go out of the room ahead of him, and escorted her back along the corridor.

‘Aha,’ he said, as they reached the waiting area, ‘I’m guessing this is the daughter who’s getting married?’

‘Yes, that’s my Lily,’ Josie answered proudly as Lily stood up. ‘And this is . . .’

‘Bel!’ he exclaimed in surprise.

‘Harry,’ Bel smiled. ‘How are you?’

Josie watched them shake hands. It seemed to be happening in a dream.

‘Are you together?’ he asked, glancing at Josie and Lily.

‘Yes, I’ve come to drive Josie home,’ Bel informed him.

‘I didn’t realise you knew each other.’

‘Bel’s been . . . helping me to deal with things,’ Josie told him, her voice sounding echoey in her ears.

‘Then you’re in very good hands,’ he assured her.

She turned to Bel, who was regarding her curiously.

‘Are you all right, Mum?’ Lily asked.

‘Yes, I’m fine. Never better,’ Josie smiled.

‘How’s the flat purchase going?’ Bel asked Harry.

‘Yes, OK,’ he replied. ‘Our offer’s been accepted. They want an early completion, so it could be ready to move into by the end of next month.’

‘That’s great,’ Bel responded. ‘Or is it?’ she added doubtfully.

‘It’s good,’ he assured her, in a tone that made Josie wonder if he meant it. ‘Thanks for your expert guidance.’

Bel smiled. ‘I didn’t do anything, apart from agree with your choice.’

‘Mr Beck?’ the receptionist called out.

‘I’ll be right there,’ he told her. ‘It was good to see you,’ he said to Bel. ‘Take care, Josie, and be in touch if you need to be. You have the number?’

‘I do,’ she promised, and after watching him give Lily a smile, and Bel a second glance, she turned her attention to Yvonne who’d appeared with a prescription.

‘So how did it go?’ Lily wanted to know as they started for the pharmacy.

‘Quite well actually,’ Josie replied, feeling Bel’s hand tuck into her arm. She was struck by how soothing it was to have her there. ‘The tumour’s shrunk,’ she said, ‘and they’re giving me something to help with some of the side effects.’

‘Thank goodness for that,’ Lily sighed. ‘You scared poor Dad out of his wits the last time, when you started screaming.’

‘I know, I’m sorry about that, but the constipation . . . You’ve got no idea. I’d rather go through childbirth a dozen times than experience anything like that again.’

‘So when does your next round of chemo begin?’ Bel wanted to know.

‘I’m presuming it’s Wednesday of next week,’ Josie replied, ‘that’s what I was told before, so I don’t expect it’s changed.’ She put on a cheery smile. ‘Which means,’ she continued, ‘if they stick to the same cycle, I could be up for doing the Pink Ribbonwalk.’

Bel didn’t seem to be listening; she was regarding her too intently.

‘Did I tell you Jasper’s mum wants to join us?’ Lily piped up.

‘No, you didn’t,’ Bel replied. Her face was draining of colour; Josie wondered what she was seeing, reading in her eyes.

She looked away as Lily told Bel that Jasper’s parents were coming to Kesterly this weekend to take Josie and Jeff for dinner, at the Crustacean, if Josie felt up to it. Josie was going to make sure she did. There was no point letting this spoil anything for anyone, least of all her precious girl.

Don’t think about how much you love her now, it’ll get the better of you.

‘Did he say anything about a mastectomy?’ Lily asked, as they joined a short line at the pharmacy.

‘Oh, that’s the other bit of good news,’ Josie told her, avoiding Bel’s eyes, ‘I don’t have to have one.’

Lily’s face lit up with surprise and relief. ‘That’s brilliant,’ she declared. ‘Did you hear that, Bel? Isn’t it fantastic?’

‘Absolutely,’ Bel agreed, but the way she tightened her hold on Josie’s arm told Josie that she hadn’t done so well at pulling the wool over her eyes.

An hour later, after dropping Lily at the station, Josie was at home, lying on the bed feeling drained and battered and afraid to think. Bel had wanted to come in with her, but she’d claimed tiredness and said she’d give her a call in a while. Bel knew, she could tell, but she couldn’t talk to her about it, not yet. Probably not ever, because Bel had already been through this once; Josie wasn’t going to put her through it again. It would bring back too many painful memories; remind her of how helpless they were in the face of a disease that destroyed lives and tore families apart.

It was going to happen to her family and she just couldn’t bear it.

As panic welled in her chest she fought to make herself breathe.

She didn’t want to miss out on her children’s lives, all the small things that made them who they were, and the big things that marked their years passing. She had to be there for them, to share in their joys and hardships, to help them through whatever challenges came their way. She wanted to see her grandchildren, hold them in her arms and do what mothers did when their children became parents themselves.