‘You look and smell fantastic,’ he said. ‘Wallflower,’ he teased as he pressed me up against the wall and I started to unbutton his shirt. He stopped me. ‘No. I want to see you.’ He loosened the belt of my dressing gown, then reached up and slipped it down over my shoulders, caressing each part of exposed skin as he did so, then covered my neck with butterfly kisses. A few moments later, I was naked in front of him. It felt utterly erotic to be like that whilst he was fully clothed. One of the wonderful things since we’d been together was that I didn’t feel inhibited in front of him or in any way ashamed of my body. I could see in his eyes the arousal I caused and I could hear it in his voice when he said, ‘Turn around.’
I did as he instructed, and he arranged my arms so that they were above my head as he stood behind. He began to follow the outline of my body with his fingertips. It felt thrilling to be naked in a strange flat with Daniel, who was forbidden somehow, and every one of my senses felt heightened, the feel of the closeness of him behind me, his weight against me, the scent of him, his touch.
Suddenly he stopped. ‘Shh.’
‘What is it?’
‘The lift. Someone’s coming.’
I turned around to hear a clunk, then a key in the door. ‘Shit. It must be Fleur come back for something.’ There was no time to even find my dressing gown, which Daniel had tossed behind a sofa. At the same time, we both looked at the curtains. ‘I’ll hide behind there. Hopefully she won’t be long,’ I whispered.
‘And I’ll say I left something.’
I dashed behind the curtains and, a moment later, I heard someone come into the room.
‘Daniel! What are you doing here?’ It wasn’t Fleur. It was Rose.
‘Left my dongle,’ said Daniel. ‘From this morning.’
I was nervous, close to hysterical, I almost burst out laughing. Dongle.
‘I left my overnight bag,’ said Rose. ‘I didn’t want to be carrying it with me in Harrods.’
Phew, I thought. She won’t hang around then.
‘Where’s Fleur?’ asked Rose.
‘I believe she’s gone to stay with a friend.’
‘So how did you get in?’
Oh shut up Rose, I thought. And go away. At that moment, I glanced down from my vantage point. Fuck. The flat looked out on the street below. The street below looked up at the flat and I realized that, with the light behind me, I was completely visible. In the buff. Clearly hiding behind the curtains. I quickly put my hands over my breasts and crotch and prayed that no one would look up. Rose, please, please, clear off. I stood barely breathing as I listened. Please, please don’t let anyone see me, I thought as I noticed a couple of older ladies walking along the pavement down below.
‘Dee let me in,’ Daniel replied.
‘Dee?’
Nooooo, I thought. Wrong answer.
‘Yes. She came back to collect her things too.’
‘Oh. So is she still here? Where is she?’
Arghhhh. This is a nightmare.
‘No. Gone. She went to see a friend, I think.’
‘So you did see her?’
‘Yes. She let me in then went straight out.’
‘Oh. But how did you know she’d be here?’
‘I didn’t. I took a chance that Fleur would be here.’
‘Is Dee coming back?’
Oh fuck off Rose, with your questions, fuck off, fuck off, fuck off.
‘Oh. Not sure.’ I prayed that Daniel was a better liar than I was. I would have gone scarlet and started stuttering.
Oh for God’s sake, I thought, as I saw a group of young men on the street down below. Don’t look up, don’t look up, I prayed. They did look up and were soon laughing and pointing. Yes. Hilarious, I thought as I shut my eyes. Absolutely fucking hilarious.
I heard footsteps. Rose’s. ‘I’ll go and see if her stuff is still here.’ Click clack went her heels across the floor.
‘You OK?’ Daniel whispered, then sniggered.
‘No. Get rid of her. Not funny,’ I whispered back. There was an agonizing silence. I didn’t dare say anything else in case Rose came back in. I barely dared to breathe or move an inch and, down below, my spectators were clearly enjoying the show.
Moments later, I heard Rose’s heels again. Click clack. ‘Her case is still here and there’s stuff in the bathroom, so she must be coming back.’
‘Oh, OK.’
‘So did you find your dongle?’ said Rose.
‘Yes. Got it. So I’ll be off. Er … should I wait for you? We can go out together.’
‘No. I’m going to stay a while. Make some phone calls.’
Nooooooooooooo. I took a peek down below. The young men weren’t going anywhere in a hurry either. Please don’t let any of them have a phone camera or else this could be all over YouTube tomorrow with the headline: Mystery naked woman hides behind curtains in Knightsbridge.
‘OK. Bye then.’
‘Actually Daniel, don’t go just yet.’ Nooooooooooo. ‘The dongle. I assume it’s the one with Mum’s recording?’
‘Yes.’
‘Could I borrow it?’
Oh God, this is getting worse by the second, I thought. If he hasn’t actually got the dongle on him. How’s he going to get out of that?
‘It’s my only copy at the moment,’ Daniel replied. Phew. ‘I’ll put all the recordings together for you, I promise, so you’ll have them on one file.’
‘Oh. OK, though I’d prefer it if I could have copies of what we’ve seen so far if you can arrange that. I’d like to show my husband and children.’
Outside, my audience of young men were still pointing and laughing so, of course, anyone passing on the street also looked up to see what was causing so much amusement. Me. In all my glory. Still as a statue. Getting colder by the minute. OK, probably not the circumstances you had in mind for prayer, Mum, but dear God, please help. Please. I’m begging you. I shut my eyes tight and prayed. A Star Trek moment would do it. Beam me up. Somewhere else. Anywhere else.
‘I’ll make that a priority,’ said Daniel.
‘And um, I wanted to ask about …’ Silence. Oh, please spit it out and go, Rose.
‘About what?’ asked Daniel.
‘Nothing. Never mind. Not important.’
‘You sure?’
‘Sure.’
‘OK. I’d better be off now then.’
‘Yes. Goodbye Daniel. See you in two months.’
I heard footsteps. His. The door closed. The lift clunked down.
I heard rustling sounds as Rose moved around in the room. What if she decides to look at the view? What if she decides to look behind the sofa and finds my discarded dressing gown? Oh please God, make Rose go home.
I noticed Daniel leave the building down below. Thankfully, before he turned left, he didn’t look up or alert the young men to the fact that he had something to do with the apparition at the window on the first floor.
It was so quiet in the apartment, I could hear Rose breathing. Will she hear me? What will I say if she does? Oh hi, Rose. Yes, I was just flashing my bits to Sloane Street.
A phone rang. ‘Hugh. Hello darling. Yes, yes I’m fine,’ Rose’s voice sounded softer than usual. ‘I’ll be home in a while. I was going to … Oh, you’ve cooked? I’m not really … of course. I’ll be back as soon as I can get a taxi.’
Oh thank you God, I thought as I heard more movements, then finally the sound of the door closing and the sound of the lift going down.
I waited a few moments, gave my audience the V sign, then came out from behind the curtains. I went to my room, got dressed, then called Daniel to say that it was safe to come back. Needless to say, when he did, the earlier mood had been ruined and we headed out to the nearest bar for a very large glass of wine.
20
Rose
Wednesday 17 February
I was in the clinic in West London waiting to see my consultant and get the results of the most recent CT scan to see if the hormone tre
atment had worked. The scan was to compare the cancer deposits before and after the treatment I’d had for the last three months. If they had shrunk or remained the same size, then good, the treatment would have worked. If the deposits had grown or there were new ones, then not so good, it hadn’t worked. The treatment hadn’t been so bad, slight nausea and indigestion some days, leg cramps some nights, hot flushes now and then. They’d been a nuisance but all manageable and I hoped I could continue on it.
Here goes, I thought, as Mrs Campbell looked up from her notes. Her face gave nothing away.
‘I’m so sorry, Rose, the treatment isn’t working as well as we’d hoped. We’re going to have to try something else now.’
Isn’t working? Hasn’t worked. I felt a sinking in the pit of my stomach as I tried to take in the enormity of what she’d told me. ‘Something else?’
‘There are different regimens that can be used which I’ll go into in a minute. We’ll be aiming to prolong life and, more importantly, maintain your quality of life. With your particular cancer, you have a choice of two types. Vinorelbine or Capecitabine …’
As in my first session with her, I could barely take in what she was saying. One regimen is intravenous, the other a tablet to be taken at home. I can choose. Cycles, weeks on, weeks off. Thank God, they write it all down and give you the pages to absorb later, I thought, because my mind was already elsewhere, back at home, wondering how I was going to break this to Hugh.
I left in a daze, armed with papers, the printed summary of what had been discussed, explaining my options, side effects, how the drug is administered. This cannot be happening, I thought as I flicked through the pages in the lift. Possible side effects, risk of infection, bowel changes. I stuffed them in my bag. I didn’t want to know, not now, not yet. Mrs Campbell had said it would be a gentle chemotherapy, not everyone gets the side effects. They have to warn you, I told myself, even with antibiotics, there’s a long list of side effects. They have to let you know the worst-case scenario. It might be all right, the hormone treatment was, but I’m not going to think about this right now. I’ll go somewhere quiet and read the notes over. But not now. Not yet. When I’ve come down a bit.
Part of me was determined to carry on as normal. Not to let the cancer interfere for as long as I could but, when I stepped out into the street, I realized that I wasn’t ready to face Hugh, my dear love and husband. He’d be devastated, and there was no way to soften the blow. What I needed was a place to go and sit and take in what I’d been told and compose myself before heading home. Or was that what I wanted? If I found a quiet spot, my imagination might run wild, worrying about what I’d just been told, what I had to come, letting fear run riot. I decided – I’m in the west of town. I’ll go to the solicitors, keep busy, carry on as normal. Mr Richardson wanted to go over some detail on the will and, as I’d been named as one of the executors, it had to be done sooner or later. So yes, keep busy, I told myself. Put on the busys, as Mum used to say if any of us were stressing over something. So far, I’d found that was the best way because the minute I was alone or had little to do, my inner demons were sitting there waiting for me with their teeth bared.
*
When I got to the solicitors, Daniel Scott was coming out. He looked surprised to see me.
‘Hello.’ He jerked a thumb in the direction of Mr Richardson’s office. ‘Just been in collecting funds for the next stage of the programme. Actually, Rose, as it’s to be held at your house in August, would you have a minute later? I need to go over a few details, sleeping arrangements and so on.’
No, I thought. I’m in no fit state to have a friendly chat. ‘Can we do it on the phone?’
‘We could I guess.’
Luckily I was saved by the receptionist. ‘Mr Richardson will see you now,’ she said, and indicated the door I should go through.
‘Sorry, got to go. Give me a ring,’ I told Daniel.
I wasn’t pleased to see that Daniel was still there when I came out twenty minutes later.
‘Time to grab a coffee?’ he asked.
I was torn. I should get home. Hugh, Simon and Laura would all want to know what the oncologist had said, a conversation I was dreading. I knew I’d have to keep it together for their sake. No tears. No breaking down in front of them. I had to be strong, stronger than I had ever been in my whole life. I hadn’t told Hugh that my appointment with the consultant was this morning because he’d have wanted to come with me and I’d wanted to hear for myself first. If it was bad news, I wanted time to take it in. And it had been bad news, so I was in no mood to spend time with Daniel either, but I didn’t want to alert him to the fact that anything was not as it should be in case he let something slip to Fleur or Dee.
‘OK, a quick one, I haven’t got long,’ I said, noting the irony of my words. I wanted to get whatever it was he wanted out of the way. It would save doing it later.
As we left the solicitor’s office, I remembered what he’d said about the swami working with the terminally ill. It had intrigued me, and I’d given it some thought, despite my cynical response when he’d told us about it at Fleur’s. Daniel had been right when he said that people like me would maybe like to be able to talk about what they are facing. My consultant gave me the facts about what was happening physically. Drugs choice. Treatment schedules. We didn’t discuss how it was affecting me mentally or emotionally, although I had been offered counselling. I’d attended one support group, but it made me ever sadder than I felt when on my own. OK, so sitting listening to other patients’ case histories made me realize that I wasn’t alone, but watching them break down gave me no solace for my situation. I’d liked the swami. Maybe he could offer something more positive.
We went to a small hotel just off the main road, ordered coffee, and in five minutes Daniel had picked up that something was wrong. So much for my public, ‘everything is OK’ face.
He reached over and took my hand. ‘What’s up Rose?’
I brushed his hand away but my eyes brimmed with tears. ‘Don’t be nice to me. I can’t handle it when people are nice to me.’
‘OK. Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude, but I can see that something has upset you. Sometimes it helps to talk – that is, if you feel like it. Maybe I can help?’
‘No one can help,’ I said.
‘I got the feeling something was up when I bumped into you at Fleur’s that evening back in February.’
I tried to compose myself back to Rose Edwards, professional woman. I don’t do overemotional, not in public anyway. We sat in silence for a few moments as a waiter brought us coffee. I took a sip and conveniently ignored the fact that I wasn’t supposed to be having coffee at the moment, but hell, what difference was one cup going to make?
‘Do Dee and Fleur know what’s bothering you?’
‘No. And they mustn’t find out, Daniel. Please, please don’t tell them you saw me like this. I’ll be fine in a minute. It’s nothing.’
‘Doesn’t look like nothing. Don’t worry. I won’t mention it to anyone if you don’t want. Discretion is my middle name, but it sounds big, whatever it is.’
We sat in silence again. I was battling inside, trying to keep it together, when all I wanted to do was break down and weep.
Daniel broke the silence. ‘You know, I’ve watched you and your sisters when you’re together and I see how you are with them. You want to protect them. I see that you care,’ he said, then smiled, ‘behind the bickering, that is. But I also see behind your public face, that there’s someone quite vulnerable. We’re all human. We all have our problems to deal with. What are yours? What’s the fear, Rose? What’s troubling you? You have to tell someone. Can you talk to your friends? Your husband?’
And that did it. I could talk to my friends, my family – but not really. I couldn’t tell them I was scared, a hundred worries in my mind. What would become of Simon and Laura with no mother? What would become of Hugh? He’d be lonely. What was I going to have to go through? And if I was fe
eling particularly down, I felt sad and angry at all the things I would miss – Simon and Laura graduating, getting married, meeting my grandchildren. I wanted to live. I had so much to live for. I wanted to cry and rage at the same time, but I wasn’t ready to talk about it and Daniel didn’t press. He took my hand again and just held it. ‘I expect you’re trying to protect them too. Am I right?’
I didn’t reply.
‘Whatever it is, sometimes it helps to talk to someone outside of friends and family.’
‘You’re not suggesting I go back to Beverly are you? No thanks.’
‘No but … maybe I could be someone that you don’t have to protect or soften your situation for. I’m a good listener.’
Another hour, another day, I might have left, but he’d caught me at the worst possible time. I did need to talk to someone, despite my resistance. There’s the link with Mum, I thought, and he does seem to have the measure of Dee and Fleur. It could be like talking to a family friend without the complications. He might understand. I took a deep breath and told him what had been happening. At first, shock registered on his face, but he listened without interrupting. ‘And if I get another of those blooming positive quotes of Mum’s about dancing on a shifting carpet,’ I said when I’d finished, ‘I won’t wait for the cancer to get me, I might have to kill myself.’
Daniel laughed at my attempt at humour. ‘I can appreciate that in your situation, they might be untimely, but I always think, life isn’t made up of what is thrown at you, it’s about how you react to it.’
‘Is that another of Mum’s quotes? Because I can tell you that some of those messages you send make me want to throw up.’
Daniel held his hands up. ‘As I said when we first met, don’t shoot the messenger. Your mother asked me to send them.’
‘I know. Mum said it too, didn’t she? Don’t shoot the messenger. Not your fault that one of her daughters has cancer.’
‘No, but I do believe, Rose, that wherever you are, whoever with, it’s the state of mind that you’re in that determines if it’s a good or a bad time.’
I felt a flicker of annoyance. How could he possibly know what I was going through? I’d made a mistake in opening up to him. I’d done everything I could to be positive. He’d just caught me at a bad time. ‘Hah! Easy for you to say. I can’t bear it when people come out with platitudes and talk about staying cheerful. You try it if you’ve just heard your cancer is incurable. I know you mean well but—’
The Kicking the Bucket List Page 18