The Quilt (21 page)

H
e shook Paul’s hand vigorously.

“Sean
, you wouldn’t be thinking of retiring would you?”

H
e wrapped his enormous arms around Jean and hugged her tightly before walking into the kitchen without waiting for an invitation.  He spread his considerable bulk into one of the chairs.

“You understand
, I am just giving my opinion.  It is not official valuation.”

“Yes
, of course.  You explained that yesterday.  Unfortunately, time is not on our side.  The purchasers want to secure an agreement today.  There is another property on Highway 3 they are considering if the Twin Pines and Kean farm option is not available.”

John picked up the
title, rates and read through the Agreement for Sale and Purchase. 

“I put a little thought
into it last night.  The Kean property is obviously a good comparison.  It is a larger acreage but the contour is not as desirable as Twin Pines and the land and buildings next door need attention.  I ran you off a list of some of the recent rural sales in the area.” 

H
e passed out three photocopied sheets.

“Twin Pines stands in a class of its own
if you consider both production and infrastructure.  I do think that is reflected in the price offered.    You will need to get an independent valuation on plant and equipment and, of course, stock.  I am happy to send out a colleague if you want me to.”

John heaved himself
to his feet.

“
If you took it to auction or placed the property on the open market you would be lucky to get the amount you are being offered.  It’s a good offer.  But is it a good move for you, my friend?  Don’t be rushed into making a decision until you have had the time to it consider carefully.”

Jean held the pen over the first large x on the agreement.  Her hand was visibly shaking.

“Paul, Sean are you both sure this is what you want?”

“No one likes change Jean.”

S
he drew a deep breath signed and initialled where indicated and abruptly left the room.

“Don’t worry
, once she has found a suitable home unit and had a little more time to adjust Jean will be fine.”

“Would you like to have a look at that unit I spoke
to you about earlier?  I could organize it for tomorrow.  It won’t hang around on the market long and I think it would suit you perfectly.” 

Amanda was extending the pen to Paul as she spoke
.

“What unit?”

“It’s a brick and tile two bedroom unit in a block of four.  They have just been completed and two have already sold unconditionally.  It is the rear one so there is good security for when your parents are away. I am surprized it was not the first to sell, being removed from the road. It backs right on to the golf course so there is no hemmed in feeling.” 

S
he waved her arm expressively towards the pool.

“T
here is a good sized garage and a communal garden,” she added.

Paul passed the pen to Sean
.

“It sounds ideal.
  I am sure Jean would enjoy looking at what is available.”

“I’ll ring later
this evening to organize a suitable time.  There are several units for sale to give you a chance to compare.”

Ama
nda gathered up the paperwork before turning to Paul.

“I will be putting a sold sign in front of the Keane
’s farm later today.  Would you object if I also positioned one in front of Twin Pines?”

Paul met her eyes steadily.

“Yes, I bloody would object.”

Sean made a cup of sweet tea and took it up to the bedroom.  Jean was sitting on a small chair positioned near the window.

“It has happened too quickly.  Paul has no idea what he wants to do
.”

“Paul knows what he doesn’t want to do and that is a good start.  He will find his way and our situation is really no different.  We had already decided to move
to a smaller home and travel.”

He put his arm around her shoulders
.

“None of us like change
.”

“You think he has done the right thing don’t you
?”

“Yes
, I think he has done the right thing for himself.  But he certainly hasn’t taken the easy option and I am proud of him for that.  Maybe, for Paul, the family history is better written than lived.”

SECTION 4

Chapter
18

“
Reality”

It was early evening by the time Joanne’s taxi pulled up outside the villa.  A light, humid breeze rustled through the leaves in the front garden.  The curtain was pulled slightly to one side and Sandy’s face appeared pressed against the glass.  A few seconds later the front door opened and both Critter and Sandy erupted through the opening. 

“You look like hell
.”

Sandy’s eyes scanned Joanne’s ring finger as she spoke
.

“So what was she like? The woman you caught him with
.”

“Naked
, and how did you know?”

“It’s just wh
at men like Stephen do.”

“Why didn’t you talk to me
if you thought this would happen?” 

Jo
anne had turned her back to Sandy and was staring at the small trailer boat parked on the road.

“What
the hell is that?”

“My boat
, and I didn’t talk to you because you wouldn’t have listened.”

They made their way in
to the house and Sandy poured two glasses of wine, handing one to Joanne.

“So when are you due back at work?”

“I am currently unemployed.  This has not been one of my best days.”

Joanne sipped at the
wine. An unfamiliar tension seemed to have seeped into the room. 

“Joanne
, I really don’t want to talk about the lump right now.  I haven’t spoken to you for weeks and you have had life changes that are far more interesting than my health.”

Sandy had obviously also felt
uncomfortable.

“You told me you have cancer.  How can you expect me to ignore
that for the evening?”

Sandy was chewing on her bottom lip
. 

“I’ve seen a couple of d
octors about the lump and I have another appointment on Thursday.”

“Have they actually told you that it is a malignant cancer?  What tests have you had?”

“I’m not sure.  It’s just a small lump.”

“Did anyone go to the
previous appointments with you?”

“No
.”

Joanne frowned.

“You obviously are not going to discuss this tonight.  Sandy, you will not be going to the next appointment by yourself.”

By nine thirty, the adrenalin, conversation and wine had drained from Joanne’s body.  She was curled up on the couch with Critter nestled snuggly at her feet.

She woke as his
unfamiliar weight shifted on her legs.  The weight groaned and circled before readjusting its body and resuming a rhythmic snoring.  Lights from the passing vehicles probed into the room harshly illuminating the walls and casting ghostly shadows across the surfaces. 

Joanne stretched
her cramped legs and reached across to the coffee table feeling blindly around the surface until she located her phone.   Four thirty.  Her arm fell across her eyes in an effort to shut out the headlights and orientate herself.

The turmoil of the previous twenty four hours had
turned solid ground into jelly beneath her feet.  Would she be considered high risk by prospective employers?  After all, she had terminated her employment, for what would appear to be, no good reason and with unacceptably short notice.   Without pressing charges she would not be able to give a believable explanation, and, if she was to press charges, it could result in her losing all credibility.  There certainly would be no opportunity to return to the firm in Nelson.

Her fingers ran around the ridge left by her engagement ring.
  There was a numb, cold feeling that sat stone-like in the pit of her stomach.  How could she have been that stupid? She pulled the musty blanket up under her chin.  The smell made her nose wrinkle in disgust.

Why had Sandy been so reluctant to discuss the lump she had located in her brea
st?  As soon as it was mentioned, the conversation had become stilted and her face rigid and closed.   She sniffed again at the mouldy rug Sandy had put over her the previous evening.  As soon as there was a certain diagnosis made, and Sandy had recovered, she would look for an alternative place to stay.  Joanne’s eyes followed the chaos around the room.  Stacks of newspapers and empty pizza boxes littered the floor, a pile of dirty clothes sat in the corner, unwashed dishes and pans spewed from the sink and onto the benches and dust coated every surface. 

She picked up the phone again.  Five thirty.  Weak light
had turned the room into a depressing grey.  Joanne prodded the small dog with her toe until Critter reluctantly relocated to the floor where he sat looking at her with resentful eyes.

Joanne opened the fridge and sniffed hopefully at the milk.  It was sour and poured down the sink in watery lumps. 
She looked at her phone.  Six fifteen.

Tears pricked behind her eyes
. They threatened to overflow and send an unstoppable flood of emotion down her cheeks.  Joanne’s legs buckled and she slid down the grimy front of a kitchen cupboard muffling her sobs with a dirt-covered tea towel.

It was lunch time before Sandy emerged from her room.  She stretched like a contented cat.  The dishwasher rumbled as it battled with the third load of plates, the washing machine was finishing the last load of filthy linen and clean laundry fluttered in the light, summer breeze.  The floors were vacuumed and moped and the surfaces dusted and polished.  Joanne had walked to the supermarket and purchased fresh produce, a coffee percolator and good quality coffee.

“Grab a coffee and there are fresh pastries on the bench
.”

“You washed Critter!” 

The tiny dog was lying in the doorway.  He looked up through bulging, sullen eyes that now protruded from neatly trimmed sockets.  

“He was disgusting.  The matted hair was full of decaying food!”

“You don’t have to come tomorrow.”

“I know
, but I want to.”

“I had a look at the mural on Lucky Lady.  You have done an extraordinary job.  I didn’t expect the detail
to be so good.”

“I am very happy with it.  I just wish it wasn’t on the side of a boat.  Not the most practical place to put your work if you
want it to last.”

“Practical
ity is not a quality you have ever possessed.  You’re going to be late for work.”

Sandy
shrugged. 

“I’ve taken the phone off the hook.  There were so many mess
ages the answerphone was full.  Before I forget, there was one message from your mother, the rest were from Stephen.”

Sandy paused at the door.

“You had better ring her back, she sounded anxious.”

Joanne rolled her eyes and picked up her mobile.

“Joanne
.  Where the hell are you?”

There was a brief pause
.

“Stephen has rung several times looking for you.  I contacted your office this morning and was informed you are no longer with the firm, your mobile went straight to messages and Sandy’s landline went to answerphone.  What the hell are you thinking?”

“Calm down, I’m fine.”

“Fine? Your fiancée has no idea where you are.  It appears you are now unemployed
.  I assume you have relocated.   Joanne, your behaviour is selfish, irresponsible and immature!”

“It is complicated and I was intending to speak to you
.”

“Exactly when
, were you intending to speak to me?”

Joanne ignored the question
.

“It would be better if I spoke to you in person
.”

“Your f
ather is furious.  I would advise you to avoid him for the next few days.  He won’t be constructive until he has had time to calm down.”

“
Furious, not concerned?”

“That comment was unfair
, Joanne.”

“I found Stephen in bed with someone else yesterday
.”

“T
hat is hardly surprising, but is it a good enough reason for you to leave your employment?” 

“There were also problems with one of the partners.
  To resolve them I would have had to stand down and lodge a complaint.  Under the circumstances, this was not an option I felt I could take, especially when I ran a high chance of losing.”

“Bloody men!
I assume it is too early for you to have really considered your situation.”

“I’ll let things
settle for a few days before making any decisions.  If you need me I am at Sandy’s, leave a message on my phone and Ill return your call.”

Joanne’s muscles felt like lead.  The frenzied cleaning had left her drained and nursing a dull headache.  She forced herself to prepare
a stir fry which she ate without enthusiasm and to take a hot shower before collapsing into the comfort of clean, lavender scented sheets. 

The waiting room smelt strongly of disinfectant.  Neat piles of woman’s interest and home and garden magazines sat on low tables.  There was a hushed silence broken only by the occasional low voice or rustle of paper.  A starchy, formal receptionist greeted them and made a note in her appointment diary.

Joanne
scanned the sober faces that sat around the perimeter of the room.  They were all well-dressed, middle-aged or older, and sitting behind magazines, although very few appeared to be actually reading.  She looked at the list of doctors displaying their qualifications and areas of expertise.

A few minutes of uncomfortable silence passed before the severe receptionist approached them.  She made an effort to smile but it stopped at her bright red lipstick without reaching her eyes.

“Dr Hansen will see you now.”

Joanne glanced at the list of specialists behind the reception desk.

Dr Hansen, Oncology. 

A tight uneasy
feeling gripped her stomach.  Whatever was suspected or had been diagnosed was no longer in the hands of a family doctor.

The
y entered a comfortably decorated room, overpowered by a huge expanse of wooden desk that was positioned in the centre.  Dwarfed by the polished surface was a thin elderly man.  He stood up as they entered, giving the impression of a skeleton, lightly covered in fragile skin the texture of parchment paper.  He was stooped and wore old fashioned glasses that barely disguised the overwhelming tiredness in his non-descript pale eyes.

He extended a thin bony hand to Sandy.

“Hello, Sandra,”

“Sandy
.”

S
he corrected a little too quickly.

“I am sorry.  I am sure you told me that at our last appointment
.”

He turned to Joanne
offering his hand.

“
I am Doctor Hansen and you are?”

“This is
my sister, Joanne,” answered Sandy.

The specialist
pulled up a third chair for Joanne.  He made no attempt to return to his seat at the opposite side of the table.  Instead, he eased himself wearily into a leather chair beside them. 

The ge
sture made Joanne instantly alert.  He was putting them at ease, he was reducing formality and he spoke in a familiar, level, well-practiced voice.  The same voice she herself used if children were in attendance at a hearing.

“Sandy.  I h
ave reviewed the mammogram and ultrasound you had a few days ago.”

H
e met Sandy’s searching eyes.

“I feel that it would be advisab
le to do further investigation.” 

The specialist hunched forward towards Sandy.
 

“The ultra
sound and mammogram indicate a histological diagnosis of the lump.  We need to define it further.” 

H
e looked from Sandy to Joanne.  Hell, this was always hard.

“The results so far
are suspicious for malignancy.” 

Dr Hansen hesitated
, giving them an opportunity to respond.  Sandy continued to stare, her face calm and giving the appearance of understanding. 

Joanne narrowed her eyes and spoke in a brisk
, business like fashion.

“So
, where do we go from here?”

“
It will be necessary to make an appointment to have a core biopsy. I would like to schedule that for early next week.  Is that possible?”

Joanne nodded
and turned to Sandy.  A glazed expression was forming on her face.

“Can you please go to the reception area and ask if they can either make the appointment or give you the contact phone number?”