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Authors: Dianne Blacklock

The Right Time (42 page)

BOOK: The Right Time
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‘Emma, this sounds serious,' Blake persisted, following her.

She continued her way across to their bedroom. Don't get drawn into this, keep it offhand, appear unaffected. He will follow your lead.

‘Liz is overreacting, Blake,' she said. ‘You know she has a bee in her bonnet about solariums, she was just trying to frighten me.'

‘I don't think so, Em. She explained everything to me, that it's a T3, which means it could have spread. You have to go and have more tests.'

‘Of course I will,' she assured him, crossing to the walk-in and slipping off her shoes. ‘I'm not stupid, Blake. I've told her to book me in for everything once we're back from the honeymoon.'

‘Liz said you can't wait that long.'

‘Dear oh dear, Blake,' she shook her head. ‘I've never heard you pay so much attention to one of my sisters.'

‘Emma, she's a doctor!'

‘Which means she knows too much, and she's overreacting.'

‘What's wrong with playing it safe?' he urged. ‘Liz said it's only a couple of days in hospital.'

‘Ha! Have you seen my schedule for the next few weeks, Blake? There are just not enough hours in the day already, and I certainly don't have a couple of days to spare –'

‘Emma,' he interrupted firmly. ‘I don't think you understand how serious this is.'

‘No, it's you who doesn't understand what's really going on here,' she said, turning around to face him. ‘You know what my sisters are like. They have seized on one tiny little mole to sabotage my wedding, because they can't stand that after all their gossiping and sniping that I'd never get you to marry me, that's exactly what's going to happen. They know my wedding will be amazing and they want to ruin it for me, because they're so miserable in their own lives. Liz has wasted more than a decade on an opportunistic adulterer, and Ellen's perfect marriage was a total lie, and Evie . . . well, Evie will go along with whatever they tell her to. But I'm not a such a pushover. I'm not going to let them win.'

Blake stood there, staring at her. ‘Are you listening to yourself?' he said finally.

‘What?'

‘You're actually refusing treatment for cancer so that this fucking circus can go ahead?'

She didn't like his tone. ‘I'm not refusing treatment, Blake, just delaying it. Why is everyone making such a big deal about this? I've got well and truly enough on my plate . . .'

While she changed her clothes inside the walk-in, Emma gave him a rundown of the next few days, partly to show him how impossible it was to fit in time-consuming tests and procedures, but mostly just to move the conversation along. Hopefully they could start to talk about something else. She'd had enough discussion about her mole for one night. When she walked out of the wardrobe a few minutes later, Blake had opened a suitcase on the bed and was zipping up his toiletries bag. He tossed it into the suitcase and went to walk past her.

‘What are you doing?'

‘I'm not going to be a part of this, Emma.'

She turned around, watching him as he plucked socks and underpants and T-shirts from his drawers.

‘Blake, what are you talking about?'

‘I've had enough,' he said, walking past her again and tossing the things into the bag. ‘I can't do this any more, I'm out.'

He walked back to the robe and started to take shirts off hangers.

‘You have got to be kidding me,' Emma said. She was really beginning to get pissed off now. How dare Liz interfere like this? She had a good mind to ring her up and tell her off. And she was going to, but later; she had to deal with Blake's tantrum first.

‘Stop this, Blake,' Emma said. ‘We have enough to do without you pulling your entire wardrobe apart just to make a point.'

He didn't respond as he passed by her again with a pile of shirts over his arm. He started to pack them into the suitcase.

‘This is all about the cost, isn't it?' said Emma.

Blake looked up at her then. ‘You're kidding, you think that's what this is about?' He shook his head. ‘Read my lips, Emma. I'm out. I'm leaving. It's over.'

She scowled at him. ‘I know you never wanted this wedding, but this is low, to pull out now and to pretend to use my mole as your excuse.'

He ignored her, walking back into the robe and returning with a stack of jeans and trousers.

‘I can't believe this,' she said, planting her hands on her hips. ‘You must have been so thrilled when Liz called, handing you a pass-out on a silver platter. If you think anyone is going to see this as anything but you being a selfish, childish prat, then you're mistaken. I'll never forgive you, Blake. You don't get to ruin the wedding and then let things go back to the way they were. There's no coming back from this.'

Her voice was rising more shrilly as he moved around the room, calmly collecting his belongings, totally unmoved by what she was saying.

‘You walk out of here, Blake,' she cried as he closed up his suitcase and picked it up off the bed, ‘and that's it. I never want to see you again.'

He didn't even glance in her direction as he strode out of the bedroom. It was as though she wasn't there.

‘Blake, I'm warning you, this is your last chance. I won't take you back if you do this to me.'

He picked up his laptop case and slung the strap over his shoulder, then he walked up the hall, took his keys from the bowl and left the apartment, without even looking back.

Emma stood there trembling so hard that her legs finally gave out and she collapsed onto the floor, sobbing.

There was nothing left for them to do at Liz's except sit around and wait until they heard from either Emma or Blake. Liz told Ellen and Evie they might as well go home, that she'd keep them posted of any developments.

‘Are you sure?' said Ellen. ‘I don't mind waiting with you. Tim has the kids for the night.'

Ellen had got straight to the point when she'd called Tim yesterday. ‘Emma has a malignant melanoma. I need to be with her Friday night and I'd appreciate if the kids could stay with you so I don't have to worry about getting back to them.'

‘Sure, of course,' he'd said, obviously shocked. ‘How's Emma taking it?'

‘We don't know yet.'

Liz assured Ellen now that she didn't need to wait around. ‘It'll probably take Blake most of the night to talk her around anyway.' She looked across at Evie; her eyes were all swollen and red. ‘You're exhausted, Evie, and you've got a drive ahead of you. I think you should both go home and we should all try to get a good night's sleep – hopefully we'll need it because we'll be supporting Emma the rest of the weekend, and who knows how long after that . . .' she added, her voice trailing away.

Ellen nodded. ‘You'll let us know if you hear anything, though?'

‘Absolutely.'

When Ellen got into her car, she took out her phone and rang Finn. She just wanted to hear his voice. She'd done the same the night after Liz had called. She'd poured out the whole story to him, and he'd just listened. That was all she needed right now.

‘How'd it go?' he asked when he picked up.

‘Not very well.'

‘Where are you now? Do you want me to come over?'

‘I'm just leaving Liz's.'

‘So come over here.'

‘I don't think I'm going to be very good company, Finn.'

‘Come on, you don't want to be on your own, Ellen. The kids are with Tim, aren't they?'

She hesitated. ‘Well . . . I don't know where you live.'

Liz dashed to grab the phone when it started to ring, hoping it would be Blake or Emma. But it was only Andrew.

‘How'd it go?' he asked.

Liz paused before answering him. She'd had to tell him what was going on. He'd been so upset by her brush-off last week he had actually turned up at her apartment on the Saturday morning, something he'd never done in all their years together. Saturday mornings he was always too busy with the family. But apparently he had made some excuse to Jennifer about needing to check on a patient, and he had subsequently fronted up at her place at eight-thirty in the morning. He didn't call first, and that was unusual in itself. Liz was still in bed, though awake, and when she heard the quick knock followed by the key in the lock, it gave her a fright for a moment. Andrew sung out as soon as he opened the door and Liz scrambled off the bed, but suddenly he was in the doorway, blocking her way. He looked like he was scanning the room, as if he thought he was going to find someone there. When Liz suggested as much, he brushed it off, saying she was being paranoid.

‘No, Andrew, you're the one showing up early on a Saturday morning, with no phone call or any warning at all, and barging in here before I can even get out of bed. What's going on?'

He dropped down to sit on the bed then, holding his head in his hands. ‘It's been weeks, Liz. You were coming up with all these new excuses, comedy festivals and dress fittings, and then last night you didn't even bother with an excuse, you just hung up on me and then you turned your phone off. What was I supposed to think?'

Liz sighed quietly. She was only allowed to call Andrew at work. She did have his mobile number, but that was to be used only if it was absolutely essential and she couldn't get on to him any other way. He'd stored her number as ‘Hospital records', because no one in that section would ever call a surgeon on his mobile, but Jennifer didn't know that. And Liz was only ever to text,
Please contact ASAP
. Then, when he was able, he would call her back.

So Liz felt like saying to him that she didn't care what he had been driven to think, whether he'd been worried or frustrated, if he didn't like being nudged out of her life without an explanation. But instead, she calmly told him what had happened with Emma the previous night. Although he was concerned for both Liz and her sister, the relief he obviously felt at there being a reasonable excuse for her behaviour drowned out everything else. And soon he was kissing her, and soon after they were making love. And then he was gone again, and Liz felt nothing but resentment.

He had kept in touch with her this week to find out Emma's results and had shown appropriate sympathy, if not exactly empathy. Then he'd called earlier to say he could probably make it over for a while tonight, so she'd told him what was going on.

And now Liz was sitting here, holding the phone to her ear, contemplating what to tell him. If she admitted that everyone had gone, he'd come over and they'd have sex, and then he'd go again. And he would feel a lot better, but she would not.

Finally Liz said, ‘Um, I can't really talk right now, Andrew.'

‘They're all still there?'

‘Emma's being very stubborn,' she said, which was the truth.

‘Okay,' he paused. ‘So I guess I won't see you tonight.'

‘No, it doesn't look like it.'

‘She'll come around, Lizzie,' he said. ‘You know this is just a standard reaction to the shock.'

‘Mm.'

‘If there's anything I can do . . .'

‘I'll let you know.'

Evie arrived home to an empty house in darkness. She had arranged for Craig and the kids to go over to his mother's for dinner, though she'd let him think that it was his mother's idea. Unfortunately, as it turned out, she was unable to join them because she had to go and help Emma with something for the wedding. She could never have told Craig her sister simply needed cheering up. The chill between them had still not thawed. Weeks had passed and nothing had been said about that night, very little conversation had passed between them at all. They were polite but stilted; Evie focused on the kids, Craig spent most of his time out in the garage or in front of the television. It seemed a married couple could carry on for quite an extended period without really communicating.

Evie was about to turn on the main lights now, but she hesitated. There was something comforting about the darkness, only the moonlight coming in through the windows, casting shadows across the carpet. Evie walked around the house, turning on a lamp here and there, enjoying the peace and the stillness. Time to herself to think.

The problem was that neither of them had the skills to deal with conflict. Evie had always just smoothed things over between them in the past, accommodated. But she wasn't prepared to do that this time. She didn't really want to be around Craig right now, but she wasn't sure if that was how she'd feel forever. And it was a huge step, an enormous, scary step to contemplate some kind of separation, even if it was only temporary. For the first time Evie realised just how brave Ellen had been. She and Craig were like two people on a raft in the middle of the ocean, with no oars or compass or anything, counting on the tide to bring them safely back to land.

But it was rapidly becoming clear to Evie that life was too short to drift along like that. Look at what was happening to Emma. She was only thirty-six . . . she was too young . . . it was only a mole . . .

BOOK: The Right Time
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