They gave him an injection of contrast medium, and he felt it flash through his body in a hot wave as they slid him inside the body of the scanner.
‘Keep nice and still and just breathe normally. That’s great.’
* * *
It seemed like for ever, but it was only a few minutes before he was called into Raj’s office. ‘We’ve got the results.’
‘And?’ he said, his voice edgy.
Raj frowned, and he knew instantly he wasn’t going to like what was coming. ‘Not good news, I’m afraid. There’s a mass over the left side of your frontal lobe.’
He turned the screen so Andy could see it, and as he stared at it he felt the blood drain from his head, and his heart rate kicked up as the adrenaline began to surge through his body. It looked huge, menacing.
Life threatening?
He hauled in a breath. ‘What kind of mass is it? Come on, Raj, I’m a doctor, give it to me straight. Could it be a bleed?’
‘No. It isn’t a bleed. It could be a tumour of some sort. It’s overlapping the superior temporal gyrus and Broca’s area, part of your speech centre, which I think is why you’re struggling to express yourself. There’s some weakness on your right hand side, as well, because the motor area’s right there, too. Does that make sense? Stop me if you don’t understand anything. I don’t want to assume you just know what I’m talking about.’
He nodded. Oh, he knew, all right. He only wished he didn’t. ‘No, it all makes sense.’ Far too much sense. He swore, softly but succinctly, and closed his eyes. ‘That’s why I can’t find words,’ he mumbled. ‘Thought I was just tired.’
‘You are tired. You will be tired. You’ll need an MRI scan in the morning, which will give us more information so we can decide on a course of treatment. And you’ll need referring to a specialist centre.’
‘What if it isn’t treatable?’
Raj frowned again. ‘We’ll cross that bridge if we get to it. Until we know what kind of mass it is exactly, I don’t want to speculate, but it’ll need a biopsy for accurate diagnosis.’
He felt his muscles tighten in a flight response. For two pins he’d get up and run away, but that was ridiculous. He was a doctor. He knew about this stuff. He could deal with it. He breathed in and out slowly, and then nodded again.
‘OK,’ he said, and forced himself to stay there and listen to what Raj was saying.
‘This has obviously been growing for some time. You say you’ve had symptoms for a while?’
‘Mmm. We’ve got a new baby. Seven months—nearly eight. She’s still not going through the night properly. And I’ve been doing a course. Lot of work. I’ve just done the terminal exam.’ God, he was tired, and talking was so hard. The words were just sliding away. ‘Thought I was just tired because of everything, but obviously not.’
‘OK. Why don’t you have a rest now? We’ll take you up to Neurology and settle you in a side room while we run a few more tests, and I’ll come and talk to you again soon.’
‘No. Can’t we do this quietly?’ he asked, feeling a sudden rush of desperation. ‘I don’t want Lucy knowing. Not until we know more. I don’t really need to go to the ward, do I?’
Raj frowned. ‘Not really, not if you don’t want to. I can do the tests here. I don’t need to keep you in tonight if you’d rather I didn’t, but I’ll take the bloods today so we can get started, and we’ll do the scan first thing tomorrow and take more of a history, and go from there. You can go home as soon as I’ve got the bloods, if you want.’
‘I do want.’
It would be easier, he thought as Raj quickly filled several tubes with blood, if he had a home to go to where he was welcome, but he didn’t, not if Lucy had anything to say about it, he thought with bitterness and a shiver of apprehension. Then the practicalities hit him. His car was here, in the hospital car park, and even though he knew what the answer would be, still he asked the question.
‘Can I drive?’
Raj shook his head, and Andy felt his life ebbing away from him.
‘I’m sorry. Not for a while. Press that with your finger. And you can’t work, either. I’m signing you off sick until further notice.’
He stared at the plaster Raj stuck over the needle site. Further notice? How long was that, for heaven’s sake?
A month? A year?
For ever?
* * *
It was six thirty, over five hours since Raj had yanked him off the emergency department and into an alien universe.
He walked into the ED, went to his office and phoned James, the clinic lead, and told him the news.
‘Don’t spread it around. I don’t want the details of this out. Just tell everyone I’m off sick. Tell them it’s stress. Tell them whatever lie you like, I don’t care. Just—don’t tell them that.’
‘OK. Andy—if there’s anything I can do...’
‘Yeah. Thanks.’
He hung up and left the building, wondering when—if—he’d ever come back in here again in an official capacity.
‘Are you all right, Mr Gallagher?’
He gave the receptionist a fleeting smile. ‘Yes, Jane, I’m fine, thank you, or I will be after a few days’ rest.’
Lies again, but he wasn’t telling her what he wasn’t telling his own wife yet. He contemplated getting her to call him a cab, but he was still reeling from the news and it was just as easy to walk home, and the fresh air might clear his head.
He gave a grunt of laughter. Fat chance. It would take more than a bit of fresh air to clear this monster out of his head.
He collected a few things from the car, eyed it with regret and walked home in the tail end of the wind which had killed Jean Darby and her husband earlier today. He thought of her distress as she was asking about him, her rings, the years of love they represented, all gone in an instant.
At least he was still alive, and, if it came to that, he’d have time to say goodbye...
* * *
It was almost seven by the time he got home, and he walked into a scene of domestic chaos, welcomed by the dog and the children, but not by Lucy who was swiping at Lottie’s face and hands with a baby wipe.
‘I thought you were coming at three. We’ve been expecting you,’ she said reproachfully.
Because he’d promised, he thought, and felt sick. ‘Sorry. I got held up,’ he said, truthfully if a little economically, and she gave a soft snort and turned away. He sucked in a breath and turned to his children, dredging up a smile.
‘So, kids, did you have a good time with Grannie and Grandpa this week?’
‘Yes, it was brilliant,’ Emily said, her eyes sparkling. ‘We went to the zoo, and I touched an elephant’s trunk and it was all rough and hairy and scratchy, and the end was sticky and disgusting. It was awesome.’
He laughed, a hollow, rather desperate sound, and then listened to Megan talking about the monkeys, and then Em had a story about the meerkats, and they would have been there all evening if Lucy hadn’t cut it short.
‘Bedtime, girls. You need to go upstairs and put your dirty clothes in the bin while I bath Lottie, then you can have a bath and get to bed. You’ve had quite enough excitement this week and it’s a school day tomorrow.’
‘Daddy, will you read to us?’ Megan asked, her eyes so like Lucy’s pleading with him.
‘Yes, darling. Of course I will.’
‘Can I choose our story?’ she asked, but then Em chipped in and they started arguing about which story they wanted.
‘I’ll read them both. And I’ll read one to Lottie. In fact,’ he said, ignoring Lucy’s glare, ‘why don’t I go and bath her while you two put all the toys away?’
And lifting his sticky little daughter out of the high chair, he carried her upstairs and into the bathroom, still slightly numb
inside. ‘You’re a mess, little one,’ he said, turning on the taps and stripping her of the food-magnet clothes and trying not to speculate on whether he’d see her grow up. See her walk. Hear her call him Daddy...
He checked the mat in the bottom of the bath to make sure the temperature indicator hadn’t changed colour, then checked it with his hand, and finally lowered her into it.
‘What a little grub you are!’ he said lovingly, the numbness thawing to leave an agonising ache in its place. ‘Where’s that sponge?’
He cleaned her face tenderly, washed the food out of her hair and blew a raspberry on her tummy, making her giggle.
She grabbed his face, scrunching his cheeks up with her fingers, her sharp little nails gouging into his skin. ‘Ouch, little monkey. That hurts,’ he said, and he gently prised her fingers off and straightened up, chuckling as she giggled again and made another swipe for his nose.
‘Why are you so late, Andy?’
The soft voice behind him almost made him jump. It shouldn’t have done. He’d known she’d come up the moment she could, to challenge him.
‘I told you, I was held up.’
‘But it’s too late. They’ve been waiting for you since three. Why couldn’t you be here then? Why can you never, ever do what you say you’re going to?’
He gritted his teeth, unwilling to tell her the truth, at least until he had some answers. ‘I got held up,’ he repeated. ‘I told you that. And I know it’s late, but they’re still up, and like I said, I wanted to spend some time with them.’
‘You should have been here earlier. They’ve got school tomorrow, and you’ll only get them overexcited and they won’t sleep properly, and it’s my first day at work tomorrow, you know that. I wanted a quiet evening to prepare.’
‘So go and prepare. I’m not stopping you. Far from it. And I’ve moved back in, by the way.’
‘No.’
‘Yes,’ he said, equally firmly. ‘I’m not a cat, Lucy. I’ve told you that before. You can’t just put me out of the door when it suits you. This is my home, too.’
‘Not in front of the children,’ she murmured warningly, and turned to hug Megan who’d run up to her.
‘We’ve put all the toys away. Can Daddy bath us, too?’
‘I expect so. He seems to be Superman tonight.’
And with that she walked off, leaving him with Megan hanging over the edge of the bath and splashing a giggling Lottie, while he fought back the stinging in his eyes and wondered when and how it had all gone so horribly wrong.
* * *
‘“And they all lived happily ever after.”’
Why did they all end like that? It cut through him like a knife, slashing him with the uncertainty of his future, the exact diagnosis lurking just out of reach, the fear of the unknown gnawing at his insides and racking him with grief.
‘More!’ Emily said, but Megan’s eyes were drooping, and he knew Emily would soon fall asleep.
‘No,’ he said, although in truth he could have carried on all night, under the circumstances, cuddled up with his precious little daughters. ‘Come on. Snuggle down, Megan. Emily, back in your own bed, darling. Time for sleep now. You’ve got school tomorrow.’
He shut the book and put it down on the pile, tucked them in and kissed them both goodnight, then turned off the light and pulled the bedroom door to, leaving just a chink of light to chase away the monsters.
Lottie was fast asleep long ago, lying flat on her back, little arms thrown up above her head, her rosebud lips slightly parted. She reminded him so much of Emily at the same age.
He closed her door again, leaving the same little chink of light, and went into the bedroom that until now he’d shared with Lucy. She was sitting on the bed, stony faced, waiting for him.
‘Have you been here all week?’
‘There didn’t seem to be any point in staying in the hotel when you weren’t even here to object,’ he pointed out.
‘But we’re back now, so are you going to explain why you think you’re staying here tonight? Why you’ve just moved back in without asking me? I thought we were going to discuss this?’
‘We are—and I don’t think I’m staying here, I am staying here, and I don’t have to explain to you,’ he said stubbornly, because tonight, of all nights, explaining was the last thing he wanted to do. ‘I have every right to be here. Anyway, don’t worry, you won’t have to share a bed with me. I can sleep in the attic.’
‘Good,’ she said, dashing a hope he hadn’t even realised he was harbouring, and he swallowed hard and opened his side of the wardrobe, pulling out clean clothes for the morning.
‘If you’re hungry, you’ll have to go and forage in the kitchen. You were so late I just assumed you weren’t coming, so I haven’t got anything cooked for you.’
‘I’m not hungry,’ he said truthfully. ‘I’ve eaten.’ Sandwiches from the staff canteen at lunchtime and a couple of biscuits with a cup of tea in Raj’s office, but he wasn’t telling her that.
He could feel her eyes boring into him, hear her mind working.
‘I thought the idea was you’d get your exam out of the way and then we’d talk. Strikes me there’s not been a lot of talking, so how come you think it’s all right to move back?’
‘I need to be here. There are things I need in the study, stuff I want to sort out,’ he said, again truthfully, even if it was only part of the truth this time. ‘And I want to spend time with the girls. Read to them.’ Like tonight, maybe for the last time. ‘I thought that was what you wanted?’
‘Is that why you just read them five stories?’
Had he? Probably. Five hundred wouldn’t have been enough.
‘Guilt’s an ugly thing,’ she went on. ‘You can’t make it all up to them on one night, you know. It needs a concerted effort, change of lifestyle. And so far you aren’t doing so great, are you?’
He closed his eyes and counted to ten. ‘I’m well aware of that,’ he said, his teeth gritted. ‘I’m going to put this stuff upstairs, and then I’m going in the study. You don’t need to bother about me. I’ll be out first thing in the morning, you won’t even see me.’
‘Where’s your car? How did you get home?’
‘I walked. It’s at the hospital. The service light came on. The garage are going to pick it up tomorrow.’
Lies again. This was the first time he’d lied to her. The first out-and-out lies, at least, in all their marriage, and now he was doing it all the time. He’d tell her the truth tomorrow, but for tonight he’d just wanted to spend time with the girls without having to deal with Lucy’s emotions. It was hard enough dealing with his own, and now he just wanted to be alone so he didn’t have to pretend any more. And he certainly didn’t want to start talking about their future, not when he didn’t even know if he had one.
Scooping up his things, he walked out of their bedroom, flicked on the upper landing light and walked firmly up the stairs. He wasn’t going to weaken. He wasn’t going to go downstairs and sit with her, and pour his heart out.
Anything could happen. Until he’d had a biopsy there was no knowing what they’d find. It might be easily treatable, or it might be highly aggressive. And then where would Lucy be?
No. If she was angry with him, if she was ready to make a break from him, then he’d let her, for her sake and the children’s. It would be so much easier for them that way. And anyway, a large part of him was still angry with her for issuing that ultimatum two weeks ago. If she could do that, if she was prepared to throw it all away without giving him a chance, then maybe it really was over.
So he put his things in the larger attic bedroom, went downstairs to make himself a drink and a sandwich and shut himself away in the study. He had things to check—wills, details of his pension and bank accounts, life assurance, mortgage—all sorts
of things needed to be looked at, put together, so if the worse came to the worst, Lucy wouldn’t have a nightmare to deal with. And it had to be done while he was still able to do it.
Ignoring the flicker of dread, he pulled open the drawer at the bottom of the bookshelves and pulled out the file.
It was all in order. He’d known it was, but he’d had to check. When, like Jean and Dennis Darby, his parents had died together in an accident, their affairs had been in chaos. It had taken him ages to sort it all out, and he’d vowed that his family would never have to deal with the mess he’d been left with.
It was typical of them, though. He’d loved them dearly, but they’d never made a plan and stuck to it in their lives. His schooling had been constantly disrupted by their moves from one opportunity to another, and he’d grown used to making new friends and working hard to catch up in every new school. He’d done it because he’d had no choice, but he hadn’t enjoyed it, unlike his parents who thrived on every challenge life threw at them.
It hadn’t all been bad, he remembered fondly. His childhood had been filled with love and laughter, but it had also been riddled with upheaval and financial uncertainty, and he’d vowed his own children wouldn’t have to put up with the same chaotic lifestyle, and they certainly wouldn’t find his affairs in total disarray if anything happened to him.
But there was no mess. He’d already taken care of that, and if the worse came to the worst...
The flicker of fear made his chest tighten, but he ignored it. He wasn’t going to dwell on the dark side of this. Not until and unless he had to. He made another drink and carried his laptop back up with him. He’d spend the rest of the evening researching all the things that could be going on in his head, to take his mind off his disintegrating marriage to the woman he loved with all his heart.
And then tomorrow, hopefully, he’d have some answers.
* * *
She sat there on the bed, listening as he walked up and down the stairs. He spent a few minutes in the study, then eventually he went back up to the attic bedroom, closing the door with a quiet but somehow final click.
From Christmas to Eternity Page 5