Never Say Goodbye (26 page)

She just hoped she was going to be all right by then, because if she couldn’t make it out on Jeff’s birthday, the last present she wanted to give him was the reason why she wasn’t up to it.

Was he going to end up leaving her?

OK. Will talk to J
, Lily texted back.
What are you getting him?

DVD of
‘Wild Weather’.

Having always been fascinated by earthquakes, hurricanes and the like, Jeff hadn’t missed an episode of this series when it was on BBC, so she felt sure he’d enjoy watching it all over again.

Brilliant idea. Wish I’d thought of it. Any suggestions for me?

Will think about it. How many on wedding guest list now?

Eighty-eight. Invitations due at end of week. So excited. Where are you?

The question hit Josie’s heart. Where was she? She looked around and tried to think what to say, but all that kept going through her mind was that she shouldn’t be here. This was a place other people came, not her.

Having a sit-down with a cup of tea,
she texted back, knowing Lily would presume from that that she was at home.

Sorry. Got to go. Love you.

Love you too.

As the messaging ended Josie found herself being engulfed by a horrible sense of doom. She couldn’t allow it to stay, mustn’t listen to the voices in her head telling her she’d never make the wedding, or see Ryan this side of a prison wall again. It was all nonsense. Mr Beck had already told her he’d schedule the op to make sure she could go to the wedding, so he obviously thought she was still going to be around in the summer.

Would she still be here when Ryan came out? He wasn’t due for release for another two years.

People with cancer lasted that long. A lot longer, actually, so she had to stop scaring herself like this.

‘Are you feeling OK?’ Jenny asked, coming to inspect progress. She reached up to hang another bag on the pole. This one had Josie’s name on the front – her very own Molotov cocktail.

‘Fine,’ Josie assured her, as Jenny carefully detached the tube from the cannula in her hand. ‘Didn’t feel a thing.’

Jenny smiled. ‘Excellent. So, we’re going to start your first cycle now,’ she explained, pulling up a chair. ‘You’ve probably already been told which drugs we’re giving you, but I’m going to run through them again. OK?’

Josie nodded, but though she heard what Jenny went on to say, she knew she’d never be able to remember it if anyone asked. Who would?
Fluorouracil, epirubicin, something else and something else. Five milligrams, or was it a hundred and five? One would make her hair fall out, another might push her into menopause, maybe it was the same one.

‘It’s all written down for you,’ Jenny assured her, ‘and I’m here to answer any questions you might have.’

Josie found herself in another struggle with doom as she asked hoarsely, ‘Will I – will I be able to do ballet after?’

Jenny looked impressed. ‘Absolutely, if you’re feeling up to it.’

‘That’s good,’ Josie replied, ‘because I couldn’t do it before.’

An old joke that Jenny must have heard a hundred times, but her laugh was so merry that Josie was able to laugh too.

Lighten up, Jose, it’s going to be all right.

After entering information into the computer, and making sure the slow drip feed had begun, Jenny sat down again and held her free hand. ‘It’ll be fine,’ she whispered gently. ‘You just let me know if you feel unwell, or experience any kind of pain . . .’

‘I didn’t realise it might be painful,’ Josie interrupted, staring at the clear liquid as it passed through the syringe and on into her vein.
The destruction begins
.

‘It shouldn’t be,’ Jenny told her.

‘Will it burn?’

‘You shouldn’t feel anything at all.’

‘Apart from nauseous after?’

‘Metoclopramide is an anti-sickness drug.’

Presuming this was one of the names that had passed her by, Josie looked at the young nurse and smiled. ‘It’s a marvellous job that you do,’ she told her. ‘No wonder people call you angels.’

Jenny laughed. ‘That’s definitely not what my boyfriend calls me,’ she admitted, ‘but I’m going to tell him what you said.’

Josie was still watching her. ‘I’ve got a daughter about your age,’ she said, knowing that Lily was probably five or six years younger. ‘She’s getting married in the summer.’

Jenny’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh, how lovely. I bet you’re really looking forward to that.’

Josie nodded. ‘Very much. I’ve got a picture of her on my phone, if you’d like to see it.’ As she scrolled to it she realised how tedious this must be for Jenny, and stopped. ‘You’ve got better things to do than look at my family snaps,’ she declared.

‘No, no, I really want to see it,’ Jenny insisted.

Finding one of Lily and Jasper at Christmas, Josie passed it over.

‘Oh wow, she’s really pretty.’ Jenny sounded as though she meant it, and why wouldn’t she when Lily
was
pretty, even if Josie said so herself? ‘And he’s dead cute,’ Jenny added with a wink. ‘What’re their names?’

‘Lily and Jasper. My son’s name is Ryan, and my husband’s called Jeff. So there, now you know us all. What’s your boyfriend’s name?’

‘Alistair. He’s a vet in Taunton, so I don’t get to see him as often as I’d like, but he’s hoping to join a practice here in Kesterly later this year. Is that your phone?’

Checking to see who it was, Josie started to say it was her husband, but for some reason the word wouldn’t come. She looked at Jenny who was seeming hazy and distant, as though she was floating away.

‘Are you OK?’ Jenny asked.

Josie still couldn’t make herself speak. Everything was going dark, then lighting up again. Sounds were dragging and slurred.

‘Bronia,’ Jenny called over her shoulder.

Josie turned her head, and saw nothing but swirling darkness . . .

The next thing Josie knew, cold towels were being pressed to her face while someone fanned her with a clipboard.

‘Ah, you’re back,’ Jenny chuckled. ‘We lost you there for a moment.’

Josie blinked, and looked up at the other nurse. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, still feeling light-headed, but less giddy now.

‘There’s nothing to be sorry for,’ Jenny chided. ‘It happens sometimes, but you should be all right now. Tell me if you’re not.’

Josie tried to assess how she was feeling, and decided it was only slightly groggy.

‘Am I going to make it through to the end of this?’ she asked, not sure whether she meant the session, or entire course of treatment.

‘Absolutely,’ Jenny said firmly. ‘We’ll give it another half-hour or so, and if you’re still not handling it we’ll call Dr Pattullo to alter your prescription.’

Amazingly, at least to Josie, by the time she was finally released from the chair, two hours later, all she felt, physically, was slightly stiff from having sat for so long, and ready for the loo after so many cups of tea. No more dizziness (perhaps a little, because she’d got up too fast), or weird sense of everything floating around her; she wasn’t really feeling very much different to when she’d come in here.

‘Keep this on for the next few hours,’ Jenny advised, as she bound a compress to the puncture in Josie’s hand. ‘The bleeding should have stopped by then.’

Covering the dressing with her sleeve, Josie said, ‘Thank you. You’ve been very kind today.’

Jenny smiled. ‘How are you getting home?’

Josie stifled a yawn. ‘By bus. Let’s hope I don’t fall asleep on the way back and go sailing past my stop.’

‘Why don’t you set your phone?’ Jenny suggested, handing her a small white bag, stapled at the top. ‘Anti-sickness pills with instructions,’ she explained, ‘some painkillers, just in case you need them, and the emergency number, which hopefully you won’t need.’

Taking the bag, Josie thanked her again, and after helping to clear the dishes from her table, and being told she really didn’t need to wash up, she walked out of the unit into a wet and windy day.

One down, she was thinking as she headed for the bus stop, five more to go.

Josie was still feeling fine. She kept waiting for a blanket of tiredness to wrap her up in some sort of fog, or the urge to throw up to overwhelm her, but so far neither was happening. Her hair was still rooted to her scalp (not that she’d expected it to drop out just yet), and the reason she couldn’t wait to get in the front door was because it was so cold and blustery, not because she had anything bad going on.

So why, she had to ask herself as she peeled off her coat, was she feeling so bloody depressed? Having no side effects was something to feel pleased about, not glum,
so pull yourself together woman, and get on with the ironing.

After taking off her boots and putting on the kettle, she wondered if she should run upstairs to have a look at her boob. As if it was going to look any different already!
Get a grip, for heaven’s sake. There’s plenty to be getting on with, and the world doesn’t come to a stop just because you’ve had a shot of chemo.

What was it going to be like when she got undressed tonight? With all those chemicals inside her she might glow in the dark.

At least she could still make herself laugh.

Having heaved the laundry basket out of the linen cupboard, she settled it on the sofa and reached for her mobile as it rang.

‘There you are,’ her mother stated testily. ‘Are you at home?’

‘Just got in,’ Josie replied, going into the kitchen for the ironing board. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘No, it bloody isn’t. Karine’s got the flu so I need you to help me with my roots.’

‘I’m not a hairdresser,’ Josie reminded her.

‘I know that. I’ll tell you what to do. I’ve got all the stuff . . .’

‘Mum, I can’t do it . . .’

‘Yes you can, I’m coming over there now,’ and the line went dead.

Putting the ironing board down, Josie rang her back. ‘Why can’t you wait till Karine’s better, or go to Mimi’s on the high street?’ she demanded.

‘I took the day off specially to have this done,’ her mother retorted, ‘and I haven’t been speaking to that stupid cow Mimi since she invited everyone to her fiftieth and left me out. I’ll see you in twenty minutes,’ and down went the phone again.

Tempted to go out rather than have to deal with her mother and her roots, Josie plugged in the iron and went to find out what had just dropped through the letter box. The local paper. As she put it on the arm of Jeff’s chair, ready for when he got home, she remembered he’d rung earlier, so she dialled his number and almost wished she hadn’t got through when he answered.

‘You’ll never guess what’s bloody happened,’ he growled angrily. ‘Kev’s only gone and taken his car back. Not because he can drive it, but because his brother-in-law, that waste of space Frankie Root, thought he’d have a go at cabbing.’

‘Oh no,’ Josie groaned. ‘So where are you now?’

‘On my way to Houseman’s Storage. Apparently they’re looking for a security guard.’

‘How are you getting there?’

‘By bus, how do you think? Have you got yourself another job yet, because it’s high time you did? Kev’s Mrs says they’re looking for people at the ice-cream factory over by Mulgrove.’

‘It’d take me two hours to get there,’ she pointed out, as if it were even possible for her to apply.

‘Yeah, well, beggars can’t be choosers, and if they’re paying well . . . Go on their website, see what you can find out, and if it’s full-time, all the better. I know it’ll mean letting Fliss down at the caff, but she can always find someone to fill your place. OK, I’m there now, so I’m going to ring off. I’ll let you know how it goes.’

By the time her mother bustled in through the door with a bulging plastic sack in one hand and a vanity case in the other, Josie had drunk a nice cup of tea and managed to press a few shirts and sheets.

‘Effing washing machine’s on the blink again,’ Eileen grumbled, kicking the large bag across the floor, ‘so I thought I’d bung this lot in yours while I was here. Got the kettle on?’

‘No, and I’m not doing your roots, so you can forget it.’

‘Well someone has to,’ Eileen snapped. ‘I never ask you for nothing and the only time I do it’s too much trouble. Bloody typical!’

‘Mother . . .’

‘No, it’s all right, I know where I’m not wanted,’ and bundling on through to the kitchen she began jamming her laundry into the machine. ‘That’s a nice way to treat your own mother,’ she grumbled, turfing out a stray white thong that had found its way into the coloureds and stuffing it in her pocket.

‘Why don’t you go and see if Carly’s in?’ Josie suggested. ‘She does her own roots all the time so she’ll know what to do.’

‘Actually, that’s not a bad idea,’ Eileen agreed. ‘Why didn’t I think of it? Got any detergent?’

‘Didn’t you bring any?’

‘Oh, begrudge me that and all, would you?’

Sighing, Josie said, ‘There’s some under the sink, but don’t leave me short.’

After starting the machine, Eileen came back into the room. ‘What’s up?’ she demanded, her pale blue eyes peering from pools of black liner. ‘And don’t say nothing, because I can tell something is.’

‘I’m fine,’ Josie insisted. ‘Just got a lot on my mind.’

‘Anything you want to talk about?’

‘Not really, thanks.’

‘You need to loosen up a bit, have some fun and stop looking on the black side all the time,’ Eileen advised.

‘I don’t look on the black side,’ Josie protested, ‘although it’s hard not to, the way things are. And it’s all right for you, you’ve got a job and regular income . . .’

‘Yeah, I’m a millionaire me,’ Eileen muttered.

‘Compared to us you are.’

‘Oh don’t give me that. If you got yourself off that backside of yours and went out to find a proper job you’d get one just like that.’ She clicked her bony fingers, rattling her bracelets. ‘Or why don’t you ask Fliss for more hours? I bet she’d jump at it.’

Knowing Fliss probably would, Josie said, ‘I might,’ and answering her mobile as it rang she didn’t get a chance to speak before Jeff said, ‘Job’s already gone. Wasted my bloody time coming over here, never mind the fare. Now I’ve got to get back again. I’m going to stop at Trev’s to find out what’s going on with the car. There’s a couple of hundred left from that fare last week, with any luck it’ll be enough to get me back on the road.’