‘Tell me,’ he said with quiet emphasis.
So Nicola did, in short, brutal sentences. ‘Hayley was diagnosed with breast cancer a few weeks ago. She had a mastectomy and reconstruction on Monday. The op is the reason she asked you to take Doggo. She knew she wouldn’t be able to look after him because she can’t currently look after herself. My sister Vicky and I agreed to take turns staying with her to cook, help her wash and dress, run her to and from appointments and be with her when she got the histology results. She can’t lift anything heavier than half a kettle of water and she’s in pain from the wound and the drains.’
Isaac’s heart began to beat like a train. ‘Why didn’t she tell me?’ Even as he asked the question he knew the answer. He’d been defensive and suspicious when Hayley began turning up at The Three Fishes. He hadn’t invited confidences. With horror, he realised that when he’d thought she’d been checking up on him or hoping to rekindle their relationship she’d probably been trying to tell him what was going on.
‘I have my own ideas but you’ll have to ask her,’ Nicola said crisply. ‘The thing is that I’m asking you to help her. She’s only four days post-op and our dad’s been knocked down by a car in Cornwall and is unconscious. Vicky and I need to rush down there.’ Her voice shook. ‘It’s proved impossible to get Hayley nursing care at no notice on a Friday and you know the only family she has are cousins she never sees. If we could have found someone other than you we would have. But you were in a relationship with her …’
‘Right,’ Isaac said numbly. His heartbeat had slowed until he felt almost lightheaded. Half his brain was trying to work out how soon he could get back to the UK and the other trying to come to terms with words like cancer and mastectomy. As Nicola kept talking, persuading, cajoling, guilting, he imagined Hayley trying to come to terms with losing a breast. He wasn’t sure of the details of breast reconstruction but it sounded frightening and horrifying.
‘Sorry,’ he said into the phone suddenly, cutting across Nicola’s verbal torrent. ‘Of course I’ll come, but you’re going to have to give me space to look up flights and stuff.’
‘But you’ll come tonight,’ Nicola pressed. ‘I’ve got to get to my mum and dad—’
‘The sooner you leave me alone to sort things out, the sooner I’ll know,’ he snapped.
Nicola ended the call without saying goodbye.
Isaac rose feeling as if he’d stepped through a portal into a different world. The singing Christmas tree was still singing, lights still blazing, the music still ringing out, yet everything had changed. He realised a figure was coming towards him and it was Lily.
Lily.
His heart twisted. This was going to screw up everything.
‘All OK?’ she asked breathlessly, concern in her eyes.
He shook his head. ‘No.’ He recounted the situation as economically as he could, watching shock, horror and sympathy flit across her face as she listened. He wound up with, ‘So I feel I have no alternative but to try and get back.’ He stopped, realising he was telling the woman he’d slept with last night that he was abandoning her, letting the whole group down, to fly off and look after the woman he used to be in love with.
Lily gazed at him. She looked as if she were absorbing the same truth.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said awkwardly. ‘But she seems literally to have no options. Vicky and Nicola are her best friends. They were going to look after her post-op. It would never have occurred to her that, as they’re sisters, if one had a family emergency it would mean both of them did.’
She frowned.
‘It’s not that we’re together any more,’ he began again.
‘Of course you must go,’ she said simply. ‘I’ll tell the others then you and I can run to the station. We can use our phones to search for flights from the train.’ It seemed that while she’d been staring and frowning at him she hadn’t been getting angry. She’d been deciding how to help.
They hurried back in the direction of the singing Christmas tree. Lily grabbed Carola and gabbled into her ear. Carola looked shocked and then nodded, raising her voice over ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’. ‘We’ll make our own way back when we’re ready. Don’t worry.’
Then Lily grabbed Isaac’s hand and they began to jog to the station, jumping on and off the pavement to brush past people, the Christmas lights reflecting in wetness on the pavements that he suddenly realised came from light snow that was stinging their faces as they ran.
Lily had appointed herself leader of the expedition. On the station concourse she studied the departure boards, dark blue with white writing, and found their train. ‘Platform five for the 18.43 to Biberbrugg. We’ve only got two minutes – run!’ Then she stopped so abruptly that he cannoned into her. ‘Wait.’ She frowned, panting for breath, her gaze fixed to the departure boards again. ‘I don’t suppose you have your passport with you now?’
He patted the zipped pocket of his coat. ‘Yes. I’m one of those tourists who keeps it on them.’
She lifted her gaze to his. ‘Unless there are really late flights it’s never going to work going to Biberbrugg and then driving to Schützenberg for your things. You’ll have clothes and stuff at home so let’s get the train straight to the airport. There’s an airport shuttle in a few minutes. I can pack up your stuff to bring it home and look after Doggo for you.’
‘Doggo! I hadn’t even thought …’ He tried to fold his foggy mind around this new idea. ‘You’re right. I’ll do that.’ So they ran to the ticket office. Isaac knew he ought to almost literally be able to run rings around Lily but his legs seemed made from water and it was all he could do to keep going as she urged him through the barrier and onto the train.
Three words boomed through his brain. Cancer. Mastectomy. Hayley.
Oh, shit.
It was a big deal for Hayley to accept help, let alone ask for it. He could only imagine how she was feeling. The resentment and antipathy he’d felt for her over the past few months faded to nothing.
As the shuttle left the station Lily was already on Skyscanner. ‘There’s a plane to Luton at 20.50, which is doable. It’s not seven p.m. yet.’ She studied the screen. ‘That’s about the only option this evening. I’ll buy a ticket.’
Numbly, he passed her his credit card and watched her tap in the payment, then his passport details.
She worked rapidly, swaying in her seat with the train’s motion. ‘You land at 21.40, UK time. Trains from Luton would get you to Peterborough station at either just after midnight or just after one, and then you’d still have to get to Hayley’s place. I think it’ll be better if we book you a car.’
He nodded, watching her use his credit card again as if trapped in a dream. Then reality made itself felt. ‘You’re on the train to the airport with me,’ he said stupidly. ‘You’re going to have to get it all the way back again on your own.’
Her eyes twinkled. ‘Ten minutes to Zürich Main and then from Zürich to Biberbrugg, for which I already hold a ticket? And then I’ll get the minibus—’ She broke off. ‘Minibus! Give me the keys! I’m not sure how the others will be getting back from Biberbrugg to Schützenberg but Carola has numbers for Max, Tubb and Garrick. I’m sure they’ll work it out.’
He swore beneath his breath, earning himself a reproving look from an elderly lady nearby. Now the first shock was over his mind was moving into gear. ‘Your hand – you can’t drive, Lily.’
‘I can if I have to,’ she contradicted him flatly. ‘My hand’s much better and I’ll take paracetamol. The only thing that’s really worrying me is getting Doggo back to the UK, to be honest. You’ll have to ring me when you’re home and talk me through where his documents are and what to do.’
He slid his arms around her and rested his cheek on the top of her head. ‘You are a diamond. You’re coping with this as if it’s a walk in the park instead of a tricky situation you could easily have distanced yourself from.’ He tilted her face to his and kissed her lips gently. ‘Thank
you.’
When he looked up, the elderly lady was looking upon him with a little more warmth.
Lily gave him a hug as they whooshed to a halt in the Zürich Flughafen station. ‘My role in this is comparatively easy. Much worse to be Hayley.’
Lily rode the train home later having seen Isaac as far as she could through the airport.
It had been odd to see him in the grip of shock, the usually incisive Isaac disorientated, repeating how hard Hayley’s situation was to take in. He’d given her a hard hug and a hot kiss goodbye and headed for airport security with just one look back, hesitating as if considering returning. But then, with an air of resignation he’d turned and joined the flood of humanity funnelling in between the barriers. Gone.
Waiting would have been pointless so, the adrenalin of the mad dash to the airport draining away and leaving her feeling surprisingly alone, she’d trailed back down to Airport Level 2 and the shuttle. Isaac had thanked her and thanked her for hustling him onto a flight and it had made her feel ashamed because under the veneer she’d known herself to be resenting a woman with breast cancer for spoiling her good time.
Last night, his bed had felt like their own special world. She’d been prepared for their time together to be short – but not just one night.
As the train rumbled away her hand ached from being jostled as they’d run. She bought a bottle of water when she changed at Zürich and took paracetamol. At Wädenswil she changed for Biberbrugg.
Carola texted: Are you OK? We’re back. Max and Garrick picked us up from Biberbrugg station.
Lily replied. All OK. Isaac got flight. I’ll be back at Biberbrugg station in twenty minutes. Will phone you tomorrow. She couldn’t face a Carola inquisition tonight.
It was nearly nine thirty when she was finally reunited with the minibus, which was covered in snow. She sighed and dug out the squeegee thing from the driver’s door and, standing on tiptoes to reach the high bits, cleared all the windows. It was trickier to get out of the parking space because selecting reverse meant pressing the gear stick down with the middle of her palm where the bruising was worst.
With a loud and violent four-lettered outburst she managed it, then followed the sat nav back to Schützenberg and Toblerstrasse, where she parked, her hand throbbing and burning. She let herself into the annexe and it was so silent that she walked down to Max’s house and collected Doggo.
She didn’t want to be alone tonight. Her spirits felt like weights slung round her ankles.
Isaac reached Hayley’s at ten minutes to midnight. He’d called Nicola from the taxi and arranged to do a handover before Nicola headed south for Cornwall, Vicky having set out already. He’d sat through the short flight in a state of unreality but now he had to get himself together.
It felt odd for Nicola to let him into the flat that had been his home for years. She and Vicky were more thickset than Hayley but equally permanently groomed. Nicola’s corn-coloured hair was cut in stylish layers and she wore neat make-up. ‘Sorry for screwing things up for you but thanks for coming,’ she whispered shortly. ‘Hayley’s asleep. Come into the kitchen. I’ve printed you some notes.’ She tapped the top of the page. ‘Here’s the officialese: she had a grade one, stage one invasive ductile non-specific tumour so they gave her a skin-sparing mastectomy with lymph node biopsy and stage one reconstruction.’
His thoughts swam. ‘What does it actually mean?’
She sighed. ‘Breast cancer, caught early, hopefully not aggressive. They’ve taken all the insides out of her breast along with the nipple and put in a temporary implant. When they have the results of the biopsy and have decided on further treatment they’ll plan the rest of the reconstruction.’
Sweat burst out on his forehead. Poor Hayley. Body maintenance was a way of life to her and then this foul thing had come along and savaged her.
Nicola moved on. ‘She mustn’t lift her arm above her head. She has two drains in and has to carry the bottles the fluid passes into around with her in a bag. Washing and dressing herself, cooking, they’re all impossible right now. Can’t be left alone. Can’t drive. Can’t stretch. Can’t lift.’
Responsibility settled on Isaac’s shoulders. ‘I can see why you got in touch with me.’
Nicola pulled a selection of packets and boxes towards her. ‘If she could have come up with someone else she would have, I think. Here are her meds. Antibiotics, paracetamol, ibuprofen and Tramadol. Here’s the number for the breast cancer nurse. She’s brilliant so if you’re worried, call her.’ She slid the notes onto the counter and headed for the hallway where her bag was already packed and waiting. ‘Do you still have my phone number? Sorry I have to dump this on you – but I do have to.’
‘I realise.’ Isaac tried to make himself function. ‘How’s your dad?’
A tear formed at the corner of her eye. ‘In a bad way. Deeply unconscious, pelvic injury and internal injury. He’s out of surgery now. Vicky’s there already and Mum’s in pieces. She saw him step off the pavement in front of the car that hit him.’ She wiped the tear away.
Whispering the usual platitudes that were all you could offer when a loved one had sustained life-changing injuries or worse, he saw her out then walked slowly into the lounge. It looked the same as last time he’d seen it: cream sofas, green curtains, the streamlined chrome lamps Hayley favoured with white glass shades. It was he who had changed.
What should he do? He had no clothes here now. Maybe Flora could bring some stuff from The Three Fishes tomorrow. He peeped into the spare room and saw the bed tumbled, presumably after Nicola had slept in it. Unable to face changing the sheets tonight he returned to the sofa and put the TV on low, preparing to spend the night there.
Then Hayley drifted in like a ghost in a white robe. Tubes emerged from beneath the fabric and looped into the floral bag hung over her shoulder as if she was just off shopping. Her pallor was startling, lines graven on her face. For once, she looked her age – and more. Her voice was a thread. ‘You can’t imagine how hard I tried not to ask this of you.’
He rose slowly, shocked by her appearance. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could tell me what you were going through.’
She drifted to the armchair and lowered herself gingerly into it, disposing of the inappropriately cheery bag at her feet. She sounded irritable. ‘It’s me who owes you the apology. I ended the relationship and it’s outrageous that I should now presume upon your good nature to turn yourself into my carer just as if we were still together. Outrageous. I talked to Bev, my cancer nurse, about it for quite a while but she’s adamant that I can’t manage alone yet.’
‘You don’t look as if you ought to be out of bed, let alone managing by yourself,’ he said honestly. ‘When you handed Doggo over I should have realised there was something wrong.’
‘I was feeling alone,’ she sighed.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, meaning it. ‘I leapt to conclusions and was prickly and defensive.’
She sat back, closing her eyes. ‘I understand. From your point of view I turned up out of the blue acting oddly. This is going to be awful. I thought that getting a nurse would be easy enough. I have the money to pay privately.’
He sat down again. ‘I know from Mum that if she needs respite care for Dad it has to be booked well ahead.’
She nodded. ‘I can’t work for a while. I might have to have radiotherapy or chemo. I might lose my hair.’ Her eyelids flicked open with a glint of grim humour. ‘I always said I’d never have an implant or a tattoo and now I’m going to end up with both.’
His brain worked on that. ‘The implant I understand but … a tattoo?’
She began to ease herself up again. ‘They tattoo on a nipple. Non-functioning, of course.’
‘Oh,’ he said blankly.
She shifted her weight forward and managed to get to her feet. ‘Thanks for coming, Isaac. I’m afraid things are going to be incredibly awkward.’
‘Then let’s not highlight it by continually apologi
sing,’ he suggested gently. ‘We’re both managers. Let’s deal with what we have, pragmatically and with as much good humour as we can.’
She managed a wavering smile. ‘You’re a wonderful man. See you in the morning.’ And, as silently as she’d arrived, she glided from the room.
Isaac spent the next couple of hours searching the internet for information on breast cancer and breast reconstruction. Holy shit. And people went through this all the time.
Chapter Nineteen
The fun seemed to have drained from the Swiss trip. After taking Doggo on a morning walk through the fresh, crisp fall of snow covering the grass of the local park Lily met Carola at Max’s to reorganise things in the light of Isaac’s absence. At least concentrating on the logistics stopped her thinking about Isaac and wondering what was happening back at Hayley’s place.
Max offered to drive the equipment to the advent brunch this morning and on to the Christmas market so Lily could put off driving the minibus until she absolutely had to. Lily thanked him and said, ‘Lucky this is our last day of singing. We can all relax on Sunday, apart from packing to leave on Monday.’ She’d slept badly last night but she would have had a chance to get back on an even keel by then.
Tubb rubbed his hand over his thinning hair. ‘Driving back to the UK is going to be a terrific burden for you. Maybe I ought to do it. I can fly back here.’
‘I can’t let you do that,’ she protested, thinking about his dodgy heart. ‘My hand’s much better now. I’ll rest it as much as I can today and Sunday. The rate it’s been healing, I’ll be good to drive back, especially as so much of the first day is motorway where there will be hardly any gear changes. I’ll be fine just to steer.’
‘Let’s see how you are on Monday morning. We can sort out insurance for me then, if necessary,’ he prevaricated, still looking dubious.
Lily wondered how the insurance company would react to a driver in his current state of health but suppressed the urge to mention it. She had no intention of letting Tubb drive.
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