‘She can’t have it,’ Nick snarled. ‘She’s perfectly healthy.’
‘I’m afraid it looks as though she does, but please be reassured, the rates of success with the correct treatment are extremely high.’
‘She’s only twelve.’ Nick felt his throat closing. ‘How can she …’
Kate reached over and held his hand.
‘I’m very sorry,’ Dr Kennedy said again, ‘and I know it must be a terrible shock but please don’t be disheartened. As I said, the recovery rates are very high. I’ll be back to you later with some updates.’
Dr Kennedy went to leave, but Nick grabbed his arm. ‘I want results now. Why the hell do we have to wait? I want my daughter seen to first. She’s your priority. No one else. Jess is number one, okay?’
‘I’ll speak to you later.’ Dr Kennedy firmly removed his arm from Nick’s grip and walked down the corridor.
‘Stop it, Nick. You’re going to alienate the staff,’ Kate said.
‘I want answers. I’m not going to sit around being patient. I’m going to rattle the bloody cage and make sure these people know they’re not dealing with doormats. I want the best for Jess.’
‘So do I, but shouting at everyone isn’t helping, you moron. Stop behaving like a bloody caveman. You’re upsetting everyone, and if Jess hears you, you’ll upset her too.’
Nick frowned. ‘I’d never upset Jess.’
‘Well, you will if you carry on like that.’
He looked away. ‘Why the hell is this happening? Jess is … she’s … Why, Kate? Leukaemia? I just don’t …’ He brushed away the tears that were welling in his eyes.
‘I know,’ Kate said. ‘I don’t understand it either. But we have to be strong for Jess and show a united front. I need you to calm down and help me figure this out. We have to listen to what the doctors say and help them make Jess better.’
Nick nodded. ‘You’re right, I just … I can’t sit around doing nothing.’
‘I feel the same. Here she is now. Be strong.’
Nick took a deep breath and turned to see Jess walking towards him. She was in a hospital gown. She looked so young and pale. His little girl, his only daughter, his favourite child. He knew it was wrong to have a favourite, but Jess had always been so easy to love. He’d always thought he’d bond more with his sons, but the minute he’d set eyes on Jess, he’d fallen head over heels in love. He pulled her in to his chest and held her tight.
‘Ouch, Dad! You’re crushing me,’ she said.
‘Oh, God, I’m sorry.’ He let go. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Well, I’m a bit freaked out, but Dr Kennedy said not to worry, that I was in the best place and they’d all help make me better.’
Nick could see Jess was trying not to cry. His little girl was being so strong. He felt physically sick. He had to protect her. That was his job. He’d shout the place down, if it helped get her the best care or to the top of a queue. Whatever it took. He wasn’t going to sit around doing nothing. He knew how the health system worked: you had to demand to be seen and heard. You had to make sure they knew you weren’t going to wait patiently for results and treatment. It was the squeaky hinge that got oiled, and Nick wasn’t going to take this lying down. He was going to save Jess, no matter what it took.
He hugged her again. ‘I love you, Jess, and you’re going to be fine, okay? I promise. I’m going to fix this. It’s just a little blip. They’ll give you some medicine and we’ll all go home.’
‘Well, she’s going to have to stay here overnight for tests, but then hopefully we’ll go home,’ Kate said.
Nick frowned. He didn’t want Jess in here. What if she got one of those hospital bugs? This wasn’t good. He’d have to talk to that doctor and get her out of here. She could come in for tests – surely she didn’t need to stay the night. Kate was way too weak: she had obviously said yes to everything. Well, Nick wasn’t going to. He would question everything and make damn sure that his daughter didn’t get misdiagnosed or pick up some crappy bug. Those consultants thought they knew everything – well, they weren’t going to push him around. He was going to research leukaemia and tell them what to do.
He felt himself beginning to calm down. He’d take charge and it would be okay. He looked around to see if he could spot Dr Kennedy, and as he did so, a boy hooked up to a drip wheeled himself out of a room. He had no hair and his eyes seemed huge in his small head.
‘Welcome, newbie. I’m Larry,’ he said to Jess.
Nick grabbed Jess and pulled her away from him. He didn’t want her near sick kids. Jesus Christ, they didn’t need to see that – bald head, emaciated body. Nick felt fear rising in his throat. That was not going to happen to Jess. No way. Not while he had breath in his body.
12
Kate left Bobby eating his pasta and went upstairs to Jess’s room to pack a bag. She put in Jess’s pyjamas, tracksuit bottoms, her Kindle and her favourite cuddly toy – Whiskey. She still slept with him every night. Kate’s mother, Nancy, had given him to Jess when she was born, and Jess had curled her tiny fingers around his soft paw and never let go.
Kate held the yellow-and-black striped cat in her hands and squeezed him. She mustn’t cry. She’d managed to hide her tears from Bobby by turning when he’d pulled out of a hug. She could hear Luke listening to music in his room next door. She didn’t want him to see her falling apart. She had to be strong.
Her father popped his head around the door. He came towards her but she put her arm out. ‘Don’t. Don’t hug me or say anything nice. I’m hanging on by a thread here, Dad.’
George nodded. ‘I understand, pet. How’s Jess?’
Kate looked at Whiskey’s ridiculous face and shook her head. ‘She’s confused and frightened. They’re doing all these tests on her tomorrow to find out more but they’re pretty sure she has leukaemia. Now it’s a question of finding out which type and how bad it is. Cancer, Dad? How the hell can Jess have cancer? I know she was feeling tired and she had those bruises, but I thought it was from playing sport. How can she just have developed cancer? I can’t get my head around it.’
George sat beside her on the bed and took her hand. ‘Listen to me, there is no “why” in cancer. It just is. The good news is that the survival rate is ninety per cent. Our Jess is going to be fine.’
‘Ninety per cent?’
‘Yes. Piper Googled it and rang Luke to tell him. I’d said he wasn’t allowed to Google it as all you find on that old internet is bad news. So Piper did it and called him.’
‘Good old Piper.’ Kate gave a small smile. It was great news. Ninety per cent was okay. Ninety per cent gave Jess great odds. ‘The nurse told me not to look it up. She said all you get is misinformation. She said to ask her and the consultants any questions I had. But I didn’t have any. I couldn’t think straight. All I want to know is – is Jess going to be okay? They can’t answer that.’
‘The tests will give them the information they need and then they can tell you what the treatment will be and how soon she’ll be better.’ George patted her hand.
Kate held Whiskey to her face. ‘It was bad enough, but Nick kept shouting at everyone that he wanted results now, why the hell did we have to wait and he wanted his daughter seen to first. He was making the whole thing worse and freaking Jess out.’
George stood up and began pacing the bedroom. ‘I’ll have a word with him for you.’
‘No, Dad, it’s fine. He calmed down after I spoke to him. In fairness, he was just upset and worried. You know how he dotes on Jess – she’s always been his favourite, and he isn’t subtle about it.’
‘He isn’t subtle about anything,’ George said.
Luke came in. ‘Hey, you should have told me you were back. What’s going on?’
Kate looked up at him and almost broke down. ‘Well, they have to run some tests tomorrow and then we’ll know more. I’m going back now with a bag for Jess and I’ll be staying the night with her.’
‘Can I come and see her?’
Luke asked.
‘Sure – she’d like that.’
‘Is she freaking out?’
‘She’s definitely worried and frightened, but the doctors and nurses have been very kind and reassuring so she’s okay.’
‘Did Granddad tell you about the ninety per cent?’
Kate smiled. ‘He did. Tell Piper thanks.’
Luke went over to Kate and gave her an awkward hug. ‘It’ll be okay, Mum.’
She held him tightly. ‘I know, Luke, I know.’
‘Hey!’ a grumpy seven-year-old voice shouted. ‘You all left me by my own downstairs. I want to know what’s going on too.’
Kate put her arms out and Bobby came to her and allowed her to hug him again. ‘We’re just talking about Jess and how she has to stay in hospital for a bit. I’m packing a bag for her.’
‘Luke told me she has lukeemia. It’s kind of weird – “Luke-eemia”. She has a sickness called Luke.’
Kate half smiled.
Bobby shuffled his feet. ‘I know about cancer cos Kerry in my class, her mum had it and her hair all felled out and she looked weird, but then it grew back and she looked nice again.’
Kate bent down to him. ‘Jess might be given a medicine called chemotherapy and it will probably make her a bit sick and her hair may fall out. But it’s going to make her better after that.’
‘I don’t understand. Why does she have to have medicine that will make her sick? Isn’t it supposed to make you better? Maybe chemotherapy is the wrong stuff. Maybe the doctor got mixed up.’
‘Dude, stop annoying Mum with questions,’ Luke said.
Bobby tugged at Kate’s sleeve. ‘Mummy, I looked up cancer in Guinness World Records and there was information. The highest cancer death rate is in Hungary, which is good cos we live in Ireland. So you can tell Jess that she’s lucky we don’t live in Hungary. Right? Right, Mummy?’
‘Bobby, leave your mother be,’ George said.
Kate held up a hand. ‘It’s okay. Yes, Bobby, it is good news. Now, don’t worry, pet, the doctors will make Jess better.’
‘Don’t forget to pack Whiskey,’ Bobby said.
Kate held up the cat. ‘I have him here.’
Bobby went over and picked up his Guinness World Records book. ‘Give her this too. I always read it when I can’t sleep or if I’m scared and it really helps.’
Kate took the book and turned to put it into the bag so he wouldn’t see she was crying.
George stood up. ‘Right, Bobby. It’s time for you to go to bed – we’ve all lost track of time.’
‘Come on, little dude. I’ll give you a piggyback in to brush your teeth.’ Luke picked Bobby up and carried him off to the bathroom.
George put his arm around Kate. ‘Tell Jess I’ll be in tomorrow morning. I’ll have my phone beside me all night so call if you need anything – anything at all.’
‘I will, Dad, thanks.’
Kate put Jess’s favourite hoodie into the bag, then her little washbag, her One Direction towel, her iPod, her sparkly slippers and pink hairbrush. She was looking around the small bedroom for anything else she might need when her phone beeped.
It was a text from Nick: Can u come back asap. Jenny wrecking my head, Jaden’s sick. I have 2 go home.
He really was under her thumb, Kate thought. Who would have thought it? Nick was being pushed around by his girlfriend. But he’d have to stand up to her. He needed to be there for Jess now: she was their focus. He’d have to tell Jenny to back off. If he didn’t, Kate bloody well would. It was all about Jess now and she needed her dad. No one was going to stand in the way of that. No one.
13
Jess stared up at the ceiling. Haematology and Oncology. She rolled the words around her mouth. It didn’t sound awful, but she knew what it meant now. It meant cancer. It meant leukaemia. It meant tests. Many, many tests.
Jess watched as a young boy was pushed past her room in a wheelchair. He was bald and hooked up to a drip. She turned her head to look at the ceiling. It was safer, less frightening. She didn’t want to see bald kids. She didn’t want to hear the crying parents, the screaming children and the soothing nurses. She wanted to close the door, lock it and put ear plugs in to block out the noise. Her head ached.
How could your life change so much in just a week? She’d had millions of blood tests and then they said she needed blood transfusions ASAP. Apparently she was very low on red blood cells so they’d pumped her full of ‘good blood’. She felt cold and scared. The nurses covered her with warming blankets and Mum had held her hand.
As the week went on she had lots more tests – blood tests, bone-marrow aspirate, a lumbar puncture, chest X-rays – and there were lots of hushed conversations.
A few days ago, after yet another test, Jess had pretended to be asleep and listened as the doctor told Mum and Dad that she had a rare subtype of AML.
‘Acute myeloid leukaemia. We call it AML … high-risk category … based on cytogenetic and molecular features … unfortunate … chemotherapy … activating mutations … haematopoietic cell transplantation, more commonly known as bone-marrow transplant …’ Dr Kennedy spoke quietly and Jess strained to hear what he was saying and take it in.
She didn’t understand it all, but she heard Mum gasp and Dad say a really bad word. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands to stop herself crying. Chemotherapy? She knew that was bad. She’d seen the movie My Sister’s Keeper: the girl in it had chemotherapy and she was bald and sick and … God, it was so scary.
Why was this happening? How did she get it? Where did cancer come from? In the first few days Luke had kept telling her that she was ninety per cent okay, and so did Piper, but when they heard it was AML they stopped saying that.
Jess wasn’t supposed to Google anything. Mum and Dad had banned her from using the internet, but Jess knew from everyone’s reaction that AML was bad. She also knew that ‘acute’ was not good. She was terrified. She wanted to know but she didn’t want to know. She knew there was one person who would tell her straight. She texted Nathalie and asked her to come on Sunday night, when she hoped she could see her alone.
Bobby, who didn’t understand that AML was bad, just kept going on and on about the fact that it was great they didn’t live in Hungary. Granddad squeezed her hand, kissed her head and coughed loudly into his handkerchief.
Jess loved her family, but sometimes they were too much. Their worry sort of passed over into her and she felt a big weight on her chest. She preferred when it was just her and Mum, sitting quietly, watching movies, or when Mum read to her. That was when Jess felt safest.
When Dad came to see her in hospital it was always kind of stressful. He’d hug her really tightly and then he’d go out and shout at the nurses and doctors, telling them his daughter needed more attention. His phone would ring and beep all the time and he’d go in and out of the room to talk to work or to Jenny – he usually argued with her – and then he’d be back all stressed. When Dad came to visit, Mum usually left them alone. Jess would have preferred her to stay.
Dad would try to cheer her up by telling her stories about when he was a kid, the goals he’d scored and the ‘funny things’ he’d done in school. But Jess found it all kind of boring. She knew he was doing his best, but every time he left she always felt exhausted.
Tomorrow was D-Day. They’d put the Hickman line in yesterday and tomorrow she’d be starting chemotherapy. Dr Kennedy told her that the Hickman was ‘an intravenous line that facilitated drawing blood and administering medications, including chemo’. She had nodded as if she got it, then watched as they inserted it under the skin on her chest, and the attached tube went into a vein near her heart.
They had told her that getting it in wouldn’t hurt, but it did and it felt weird. Jess wanted to pull it out. It felt like an alien in her chest. When she looked in the mirror, she could see the bump under her skin. She looked like a freak. She hated it.
Her mum had squeezed Jess’s hand really hard when t
he doctor said chemotherapy. Jess knew she was freaking out but pretending she wasn’t. It was silly, really. Jess could see her red eyes and she’d heard her crying on the phone to Granddad and to Maggie when she’d thought Jess was asleep. She was getting very good at pretending to be asleep – it was the only way she could hear people talk honestly and escape from Dad’s stress and noise.
On Sunday, Granddad, Bobby and Luke came to visit while her mother went home to shower and catch up on some paperwork. Granddad brought her a holy medal for luck. ‘It’s the medal of St Raphael, the archangel and the saint of sickness.’
‘Why is he the saint of sickness?’ Jess asked. She was happy to get the medal – she wanted all the help she could get. She had to beat the cancer. She had to get better. She wanted to get out of this stupid hospital and go home. She wanted it all to be a bad dream. She wanted to wake up and be normal.
‘Because in Hebrew the name Raphael means “It is God who heals”.’
‘Thanks, Granddad.’ Jess held the medal to her chest, touching it against the Hickman line.
‘It’ll protect you, my little pet, and keep you safe.’
‘Is all your hair going to fall out?’ Bobby asked. ‘Mrs Lorgan said that chemotherapy makes your hair fall out but that it grows back again. She said you’ll look weird for a bit but that I’m not to say anything about it and pretend that it’s just normal that you have no hair. She said it’s worser for girls to lose their hair cos girls have long hair. She said –’
‘Thank you, Bobby, I think Mrs Lorgan has said quite enough,’ Granddad said.
‘It’s okay, Granddad. Yes, Bobby, I will probably lose my hair but the doctor and the nurses said it grows back quickly.’ Jess was amazed that her voice sounded casual when inside she was panicking about losing her hair.
‘I’ll love you just the same whether you look like an alien or not,’ Bobby said.
Luke turned his back on them and Jess saw him wipe his eyes.
‘Thanks, Bobby.’
‘I miss you, Jess. I’ve no one to talk to at night, and when I try to tell Mummy my new facts she says, “Not now, Bobby,” all the time.’
The Good Mother Page 9