Never Say Goodbye (17 page)

Though Bel could not claim to be an expert judge in these matters, to her mind Harry was sensational on the trumpet, it truly seemed to breathe and sing as he played, and when his first solo ended it seemed everyone else thought so too, from the resounding applause. Next came ‘Bumpin’ on Sunset’, which got several people dancing, and when ‘Stompin’ at the Savoy’ began even more people swung into motion. By the time the fifth or sixth number was under way just about everyone was on their feet, and many were singing along. Bel had to admit she didn’t know all the words, or indeed the tunes, but it didn’t matter, the beat and atmosphere were irresistible. As was the comedy the band injected into proceedings, either squabbling about what to play next, or encouraging members of the audience to come up and join them, or hitting a sudden pause in the middle of a song to try and catch people out.

It was no wonder they were so popular, Bel was reflecting to herself an hour or more later as they played a fourth encore. They weren’t only good musicians, they were born entertainers.

‘And they’re all surgeons?’ Kristina asked above the cheers.

‘Apart from the guitarist, apparently. In his other life he’s a pathologist.’

‘Amazing. If they didn’t all have such fantastically important jobs I’d say they were a great loss to the jazz world. As it is, I guess we’d rather have them doing what they’re doing. I wonder how many people here are colleagues, or patients?’

Having no idea, Bel only smiled and raised a hand as Harry caught her eye and tipped his bowler. It gave her quite a thrill to be recognised and even sort of singled out.

‘Fancy another drink?’ Kristina said in her ear.

‘Why not?’ Bel replied. ‘Neither of us is driving.’

‘Great. Two more Sauvignons coming up, if I can get to the bar.’

As she braved the crush a table in front of Bel started to empty, so quickly plonking herself down she grabbed another stool for Kristina and took out her phone. Not that she expected there to be any messages, it was simply habit – and the fact that she didn’t want to sit there with nothing to do.

To her amazement there was a text from Harry sent only a minute ago.
Great to see you. Stay for a drink if you don’t have to rush off?? H.

Unsure whether or not to respond, she glanced towards the stage and with a small rush of pleasure she spotted him coming towards her.

‘Hey,’ he smiled, helping himself to Kristina’s stool. ‘Did you come alone?’

‘No, Nick’s wife is with me. She’s at the bar. Can we get you a drink?’

‘Ben’s already on the case.’ His eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded her.

Feeling herself flush, she said, ‘The show was fantastic. I think I’m a fan.’

‘Only think?’

Laughing, she watched with mounting amusement as he teased a bunch of older women who fluttered around him claiming to be groupies. Though no one said so she guessed at least one was a patient, the silk scarf around her head being the giveaway. Another was so skeletal it was highly probable she was part of his caseload too, though she might simply have been naturally thin. As the women moved on a young couple descended upon him, tousling his hair and embracing him warmly.

‘My cousin, Semeena, and her husband Joel,’ he explained. ‘You two, this is Bel Monkton, kind of an old friend, and a new one too.’

The stunning Semeena quickly broke into a smile. ‘Hey, Bel, lovely to meet you,’ she said, grasping Bel’s hand. ‘Is this the first time you’ve seen the band?’

‘It is,’ Bel confessed, ‘but I hope it won’t be the last.’

‘Hold back on the flattery,’ Joel warned, ‘or it’ll go to his head. Are you here alone, Bel? Can we get you a drink?’

‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Bel assured him. ‘My friend’s at the bar, but please join us if you’re not rushing off.’

Before Joel could answer Ben Weaver, the guitarist-cum-pathologist, was setting a tray of beers on the table while Jim Sayer, the vocalist-drummer-paediatrician, followed up with bags of crisps, nuts and pork scratchings.

‘Glad to see the medics sticking to a healthy diet,’ Semeena commented, helping herself to a beer. ‘Joel, grab those stools over there so we can all sit down.’

Quickly scooping up four, Joel passed them round, and by the time Kristina returned the entire band plus several more friends were gathered around the table with Bel.

‘This is Kristina,’ Bel informed Harry, as a surprised-looking Kristina handed her a drink. ‘Kristina, meet Harry Beck and The Medics . . .’

‘Hey, I like that,’ Harry cried.

‘Yeah, don’t get used to it,’ Jim Sayer told him. ‘Good to meet you, Kristina. Here, take this seat. I’ll get another.’

For the next half an hour, as everyone talked over each other, teasing, baiting, competing with jokes and criticising their performance, Bel was reminded of the old days when she’d had dozens of friends. It felt good to be with people again, uplifting, almost intoxicating, yet at the same time she was aware of being slightly anxious, as though this wasn’t where she ought to have been.

‘Are you OK?’ Harry asked, apparently noticing she’d gone quiet.

Immediately she brightened. ‘Yes, I’m great,’ she assured him. ‘Just a bit overwhelmed, I suppose. It’s the first time I’ve been with so many people for a while.’

‘Then I’m doubly glad you came. You need to get out. Someone as attractive as you shouldn’t be hiding themselves away.’

Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him. ‘Doctorly advice I can take,’ she responded. ‘Compliments I have a bit more trouble with.’

He scowled. ‘I should have thought you’d be used to them by now. Maybe that’s what it is, you’ve heard them all before and really don’t want to hear them again.’

‘Oh, I think I can manage it,’ she laughed. ‘Do you always pull such a crowd when you play?’

He waggled a hand from side to side. ‘Often depends who we’re doing it for. Tonight’s beneficiary is the children’s hospice where Jim’s one of the trustees. We almost always get a good crowd for them. Actually, we don’t usually do too badly for your lot either.’

‘My lot?’ Bel asked, making a mental note to send a donation to the hospice.

‘Breast Cancer Care,’ he stated. ‘Don’t you belong?’

‘Yes, of course, well kind of.’

‘And what do you do the rest of the time, if I’m allowed to ask?’

‘Of course you are. Normally I’m buying and renovating houses, but that came to a halt when Talia got sick. I’m kind of getting back into it now . . .’

‘Harry, is that your phone?’ Semeena shouted, glancing at it on the table.

Realising it was, he scooped it up and cried in mock horror, ‘Oh my God, it’s the wife!’ and getting to his feet he clicked on.

Leaning towards Bel, Kristina said, ‘I’m not sure I’d let him out on his own if he was mine.’

Not rising to it, Bel said, ‘What time’s our taxi supposed to be coming?’

‘Eleven.’

‘Where do you have to get to?’ Jim Sayer enquired. ‘Maybe one of us can give you a lift.’

Kristina grimaced. ‘I’m all the way out in Senway, so I couldn’t . . .’

‘That’s where Ben lives,’ Jim informed her. ‘I’m sure he won’t mind dropping you off. How about you, Bel? Are you Senway too?’

‘No, I’m Kesterly, so . . .’ She broke off as Harry returned saying, ‘Apparently the Beck boys are refusing to go to bed, so I’ve been summoned to lay down the law.’

‘Oh, they must be so scared,’ Semeena mocked.

‘Terrified,’ he agreed, picking up his beer to down it. ‘Bel, it was lovely to see you. Thanks a million for coming. Actually, how are you getting home? Can I drop you somewhere?’

‘No, I’m fine,’ she assured him. ‘I have a taxi booked.’

‘OK, if you’re sure. Great to meet you, Kristina. Please give my regards to Nick.’

‘Of course,’ she smiled. ‘And thanks for a great evening. We’re definitely going to follow you on Facebook and Twitter.’

Harry chuckled. ‘Good luck with that. We’re hopeless at keeping it up. Anyway, sorry to rush off. See you guys whenever. Take care of yourself, Bel, and keep in touch.’

A moment later he was gone, and Bel couldn’t help feeling glad that her taxi was due.

‘Are you sure you’re OK about going back on your own?’ Kristina asked as they walked outside together.

‘Of course,’ Bel insisted. ‘It makes much more sense for you to go with Ben. I’ll give you a call in the morning.’

‘Are you coming over for lunch? The children have made your favourite dessert.’

Bel’s eyebrows arched. ‘And that would be?’

‘White chocolate cheesecake?’

She laughed. ‘I thought that was last week.’

‘It was, but they wanted to make it again. Shall we say twelve, as usual, and go to the pub for a drink before we eat?’

‘Sounds lovely. Thanks for coming this evening. I hope you’ve enjoyed it.’

‘I really did. The music was wonderful, so was Harry. I expect half his patients fall in love with him.’

‘Probably more than half,’ Bel agreed wryly.

‘And the other half think he’s better than God.’

‘Yes,’ Bel smiled, ‘I imagine they do.’

‘
JOSIE, THERE YOU
are. Do come in,’ Harry Beck invited as a nurse brought Josie to his door. ‘How are you? No trouble getting here this morning, I hope?’

‘No, the bus was on time,’ she assured him. ‘I got the right one this time. It brings me straight to Blackberry Hill.’

‘That’s good, and you don’t have to worry about parking if you use public transport. Would you like to sit down?’

Feeling as jittery as the wrens she’d put crumbs out for that morning, Josie perched on the same chair she’d sat on before and clutched her bag to her chest. It was a bit milder out today, so she was wearing her dusky pink wool coat and smartest brown leather boots. She’d put some make-up on too, though she wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe she’d thought it would bolster her confidence if she made an effort, or it could have been because Jeff had said she was looking peaky.

‘Are you all right?’ he’d asked, as she’d come down the stairs at seven o’clock this morning. ‘You didn’t see a ghost up there, did you? You’ve got no colour in you.’

‘I’m fine,’ she’d insisted. ‘Just didn’t sleep all that well. Unlike some,’ she’d added with a twinkle. ‘Snoring for flipping England, you were. I had to stick my earplugs in or you might have burst my eardrums.’

‘Very funny, given you’re the snorer in the family. Are you going to the jobcentre today, or did Fliss give you an extra shift at the caff?’

‘Both. Jobcentre this morning, caff this afternoon.’ It was only half a lie since she was working later, and anyway, she might manage to get to the jobcentre after her appointment with Mr Beck, in which case there would be no lie at all. Not that she didn’t tell little fibs where she had to, especially if it was going to spare someone’s feelings; she just didn’t like hiding things from Jeff, in spite of all he’d hidden from her in the past.

She was sure that didn’t happen any more though; in fact they’d seemed quite close lately, ever since the night they’d had a chip picnic in front of the fire. They’d ended up having a lovely cuddle when they’d gone to bed, all snug and warm with the electric blanket on and duvet wrapped around them, and Jeff hadn’t seemed to mind, or even particularly notice, that she’d kept her bra on. The next day he’d only brought home some flowers. He hadn’t done that in ages . . . Actually she couldn’t remember him ever doing it, and she didn’t care a bit that they’d been reduced to a pound in Asda because they were about to go over, it was the thought that counted. Two cuddles in as many days was almost unheard of for them, and though they hadn’t been that intimate again since, she felt sure they would have been if she hadn’t been afraid of him insisting she take off her bra. She didn’t want him finding the dressing and start asking questions, especially when she had no proper answers to give.

Of course, the flowers had made her worry that he’d found himself another woman, because that was what men did when they were cheating on their wives. Flowers, chocolates, lacy undies. He hadn’t done that when he was seeing Dawnie. Maybe if he had she’d have cottoned on sooner.

Harry Beck was fixing her with those magnetic eyes of his and she could feel herself starting to shrink inside. He was going to confirm what he’d said before, then she’d have to face what it would mean, and she didn’t think she could.

Yes you can, Josie. You’re not a coward, and remember it might not be as bad as you fear.

‘So, Josie,’ he began gently, ‘how did you get on having the scans? They weren’t too bad, were they?’

‘No, they were fine,’ she assured him, because actually they hadn’t been any trouble at all. Quite straightforward, was how one of the nurses had put it, and she was so matter-of-fact that Josie had more or less felt the same way.
Please don’t let them have found anything else. Please. Please.

‘That’s good,’ Mr Beck was saying. ‘Any more backaches?’

Surprised by the question, since she was sure it was the nurse, Yvonne, she’d mentioned them to, not him, she said, ‘No, not really.’ They weren’t significant, were they? He was probably just being thorough, or polite.

He turned to have a read through his notes. She gazed at his profile, very dark and Roman, and his hands, which were elegant for a man, and probably perfect for a surgeon. Was he going to be cutting her open? She recoiled from the thought of it.

‘So, the results of your biopsy are back,’ he stated, turning to look at her.

Her heart began thudding so hard he could surely hear it. The news was bad. She could see it in his eyes.

‘I’m afraid they’re confirming what I suspected, that you have a grade three inflammatory breast cancer,’ he told her gently.

Even though she should have expected it, she still felt as though she’d been punched. Grade three? Out of how many? What did it mean?

‘It’s also spread to the lymph glands,’ he added.

Oh God, was that as serious as it sounded?

‘It’s all treatable,’ he assured her, as though reading her mind. ‘Have you looked up this type of cancer on the Internet since you were last here?’

She shook her head. ‘I didn’t want to scare myself,’ she confessed, ‘and I hoped you were going to be wrong. If you were I wouldn’t need to know what it was.’