The Art of Keeping Secrets

by Rachael Johns

  Neve marched in looking as if she’d been mugged in a thunderstorm. Her cheeks were red, blotchy and streaked with mascara. Emma had never seen her with so much as a hair out of place or a smudge of lipstick on her face. The evidence suggested that James’s reaction had been bad.

  Without a word, Neve stalked across to the minibar, took out a tiny bottle of bourbon, unscrewed the lid and poured the whole lot down her throat. Emma glanced at Flick and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘I guess things didn’t go well then,’ Flick said, putting her iPad down on the bedside table. She’d never been the type to mince words. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  In reply, Neve opened a tiny bottle of vodka, unscrewed the lid and took a gulp of that as well.

  ‘Can I get you some Coke with that?’ Emma asked, concerned about the effect of drinking neat spirits so quickly. The last thing they needed was Neve ending up in ER as well.

  Their questions went unanswered. Instead Neve walked the few steps to the armchair by the window and collapsed into it.

  Emma’s phone rang. She glanced down at the unknown American number on the screen and her concerns for Neve evaporated as her heart froze. ‘I think it’s the hospital.’

  Flick and Neve both sat forward. ‘Answer it,’ they said in unison.

  Emma’s hand shook and her stomach turned as she slid her finger across the screen, then lifted the phone to her ear. ‘Hello?’

  While her friends stared at her expectantly, a woman on the other end of the line announced herself as Dr Radcliffe’s secretary, asking if Emma could come to the hospital today for the results of her MRI.

  ‘He can’t tell me over the phone?’ She didn’t want to go back to that place, but even as she asked, she knew the answer. Doctors didn’t tell folks they were dying over the telephone.

  ‘I’m afraid that’s against hospital policy. Can you come in this afternoon?’

  Emma nodded and then realised the woman couldn’t see her. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘What time?’

  ‘Can you get here by one?’

  Emma glanced at the time on her watch. It was 11 am. ‘Yep. That should be fine.’

  Somehow she took in the woman’s directions to Dr Radcliffe’s patient offices and then disconnected the phone. ‘I’ve got a one o’clock appointment with the doctor,’ she told her friends, and then rushed into the bathroom to throw up. The comfort food she’d eaten that morning while waiting for Neve spurted into the toilet bowl and she wished stress turned her off food instead of onto it.

  Shadows appeared in the doorway, but neither Flick nor Neve said anything.

  Finally, when Emma didn’t think she had anything left to expel from her body, she straightened and then washed her face in the sink.

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’ Neve asked, holding up her half-empty bottle of vodka.

  ‘Of water,’ Flick said, glaring at Neve.

  ‘You can be such a spoilsport sometimes, Flick. For crying out loud, our lives are crumbling around our feet. If there’s ever been a good time to drink, it’s right now.’ Neve took another swig of the bottle as if to prove her point.

  ‘No.’ Emma shook her head and gestured for them to step out of the bathroom. ‘I’m fine. Well, probably I’m not fine, but unless vodka is the new cure for cancer, I’ll pass.’

  Flick frowned. ‘You don’t know you have cancer.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t googled brain tumours in the last two days.’

  Her friends looked sheepish. Just as Emma had suspected. She couldn’t blame them; she’d killed time in the hospital reading articles about trans-gendering husbands, of which there were plenty. Neve was right—their lives were a shambles. Someone could write a book about them.

  The others sighed as if they could read her mind and that made her laugh.

  ‘What?’ they asked.

  Emma walked out and sat down on the sofa bed, Flick and Neve following behind. ‘Nothing. Now, before we were rudely interrupted by that phone call—’ she shuddered at the memory and looked to Neve ‘—I do believe Flick and I were about to interrogate you about James? What happened?’

  Neve grimaced, but Emma knew she’d talk. No one refused a woman with a possible cancer diagnosis in her imminent future. ‘He exploded again, but not in the way he did last time.’

  ‘So you told him?’ Flick asked.

  ‘I did.’ Neve took another nip of vodka—at least she was slowing down. ‘He was speechless for a while and then got really angry. It was awful. I’ve never felt so utterly dejected in my life. And there were so many people watching, not that I care about any of them. All I care about is Will and James—one already hates me and the other soon will.’

  Emma reached for the tissue box and passed it over.

  ‘Thanks.’ Neve sniffed as she pulled one out.

  ‘I’m sure James will calm down eventually,’ Flick said. ‘And Will might be angry when he finds out, but maybe he doesn’t have to know the whole truth.’

  Neve shook her head. ‘James made it clear he wants me to tell Will that I’ve lied to them both all these years.’ She paused and blew her nose. ‘I’m so scared I’m going to lose him. Everything I’ve done, every breath I’ve taken the past seventeen years has been because of him. I don’t know what I’ll do if …’

  She couldn’t finish her sentence. Instead she buried her face in the tissue, her whole body shuddering as she sobbed.

  Emma looked to Flick. She shrugged back; obviously no clue either. Then she nodded towards the minibar and mouthed, ‘More booze?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Neve stopped snivelling for a moment and looked to Emma. ‘Here I am blubbering about something I’ve brought upon myself, when you have a terrifying health scare to deal with. I promise I’ll pull myself together before we have to go to the hospital.’

  ‘You guys don’t have to come. And my stomach quivers less when I’m focused on something else, so talk all you like about James and Will.’

  ‘For one,’ Neve said, ‘we are coming. That’s non-negotiable.’

  Flick nodded.

  ‘And two, I don’t want to talk about James or Will. Whoever said that talking about stuff helped was wrong.’

  ‘So wrong,’ Emma agreed.

  Neve sniffed again and wiped her eyes. The soggy tissue in her hand turned black. ‘Oh, lord, what a mess I am.’ She paused then looked to Emma. ‘If you don’t want to talk about your … thing, and I don’t want to think about James, that only leaves…’

  They both looked to Flick.

  ‘Oh no!’ She shook her head and waved her hands at them. ‘I don’t want to talk about Seb and my marriage either.’

  Neve almost smiled. ‘I was going to suggest you fill us in on Zoe’s latest wedding plans; I think we could all do with a little happy distraction right now. Don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes,’ Emma said, but as Flick started talking about an email she got from Zoe that morning about what flowers to choose for her bouquet, she couldn’t help thinking that she might not be around to see Louise or Laura walk down the aisle. Everything came back to her stupid head. But blasted cancer had robbed her of a mother and her children of a grandmother. She was not going to let it take anything else from her family.

  Whatever Dr Radcliffe told her today, she would fight it.

  ‘Do you want us to come help you choose a mother of the bride outfit when we get back?’

  Neve’s question drew Emma back into the conversation. ‘You don’t want to leave it too late. And you’d better show Beau’s mum your choice. It would be a calamity if you both turned up in the same dress.’

  ‘A calamity,’ Flick said, her face straight, ‘would be if me and Seb turned up in the same dress.’

  Neve burst out laughing and Emma joined her, the buzz of giggling with her girlfriends sending a flood of endorphins through her body. Even if their lives were falling apart, at least they had each other to laugh and cry with.

  With that thought, Emma glanced again at h
er watch. ‘I guess it’s time we got going.’ She didn’t need to say where.

  Neve sprung from her seat. ‘Let me just fix my face. I’ll be two minutes, max. Promise.’

  While Neve reapplied her make-up, the others put on their shoes and once again Emma found herself in a yellow cab on her way to hospital. When Flick and Neve had sprung a surprise trip to New York on her, this was the last place she’d imagined visiting. But hospitals were something she’d better get used to.

  As if they’d sensed her thoughts, she felt Flick’s and Neve’s hands close around hers and smiled gratefully. Talking might be overrated, but having friends like these two definitely was not.

  *

  ‘Good afternoon, ladies,’ Dr Radcliffe greeted Emma and the others as they entered his office. The walls were lined with certificates of his qualifications and diagrams of body parts. ‘Please take a seat.’

  As Emma sat on one of the three chairs across from his desk, she studied his facial expression and the tone of his voice. Were they positive or negative? Did he sound kind and gentle because he was about to deliver the worst news of her life? Or was that his usual style? She couldn’t remember how he’d acted the other day and neither could she breathe as she waited for him to speak again.

  ‘Thanks for coming in Mrs McLoughlin. I imagine the last two days have felt like forever.’

  She smiled tightly.

  ‘I’ll cut to the chase. We have the results of your MRI. It confirmed that you do have a tumour, but I’m pleased to tell you that we believe it is benign.’

  Emma heard the release of air as each of her friends sighed in relief, yet also detected an unsaid but in Doctor Radcliffe’s words. Believe wasn’t enough for her to break out the champagne. She held her breath, waiting for his next sentence.

  He clicked a few buttons on his computer and then angled the screen for her to see. A black and grey image appeared. She guessed it was her brain, but it could just have easily been a photograph of a head of broccoli for all she could interpret it. He pointed at an area of the image that was much brighter than the rest. ‘The MRI together with the CT scan has provided a good indication of the size and location of your mass. As I said, this information indicates the tumour is benign, but we won’t know for certain until a biopsy is conducted.’

  ‘A biopsy?’ Emma swallowed, her legs shaking even though she was sitting down. ‘Does that mean you have to stick a needle into my brain?’

  Dr Radcliffe ignored the question. ‘However, obviously things are complicated because you’re away from home. If you were a US resident I would recommend we do the biopsy straight away and work out a treatment plan, but due to the location of your tumour and the fact it isn’t impinging on any important structures, I’ve been speaking to a specialist in Western Australia. We are both comfortable with you going home for the next stage of assessment and treatment. I won’t lie. There are risks of flying with a brain tumour, such as an increase in intracranial pressure. I’ll go through these properly with you in a moment so you can make an informed decision about whether or not to stay on in New York or go home as soon as possible.’

  ‘If it is benign like you think, will I still need to have it out? What are the risks? Could I still … die?’

  Dr Radcliffe folded his hands together on the desk and sighed. ‘Until we’ve done a biopsy and confirmed the type of tumour you have, I cannot give you an informed prognosis. Brain surgery is risky business—it might be that we simply monitor the tumour, but because you experienced a seizure, it’s more than likely that we would go ahead and operate.’

  Emma blinked. He hadn’t answered her question about death.

  ‘Look,’ he continued, ‘I understand this is a lot to take in, especially when you’re in a foreign country, so let’s go through the risks and I’ll help you make an informed decision about whether you want to travel home for the biopsy or stay here.’

  ‘Okay.’ Emma nodded and struggled to regulate her breathing as he listed the pros and cons of staying versus going.

  In the end, neither option sounded appealing. It felt like a choice between running into a burning building or leaping off a cliff.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Felicity

  ‘Seb?’ It was early in the morning in Australia when Flick escaped the hotel room and found a quiet spot on the conference-floor level to call home.

  ‘Hello, sweetheart. How are you?’ He sounded drowsy but happy to hear her voice.

  ‘We got the results of Emma’s MRI. They’re fairly certain her tumour is benign but that still brings with it a whole load of complications and danger. She’ll probably have to have brain surgery.’

  In the cab on the way back to the hotel, Flick and Neve had forced Emma to focus on all the good news Dr Radcliffe had given them, not allowing her to think negatively. But alone, all Flick could think about were the risks of surgery: bleeding, blood clots, strokes, comas, infection and all sorts of possible problems with speech, memory, coordination and other things.

  ‘Worst case scenario, she could die.’

  ‘Fuck.’

  At his heartfelt exclamation, Flick lost the battle she’d been waging to hold onto her composure while in Emma’s company. She cried for her friend, the last person in the world who deserved more crap in her life. And she cried for herself and Emma’s children at the possibility of losing her. Seb joined her in tears and neither of them spoke for a full minute.

  When the sobs finally began to subside, he asked, ‘Does that mean you guys are staying longer in New York? Do you want me to fly over there?’

  She loved that he assumed if Emma needed to stay, Flick would stay as well. She loved that he’d support her in that decision and put aside everything to be with them.

  ‘No, thank God.’ Although she’d been eager to escape her life, now she couldn’t wait to get home and hug Seb and the kids. ‘The doctor here has given her permission to travel and is transferring her care over to a neurosurgeon in Perth.’

  ‘I can’t believe this is happening.’

  ‘You and me both. It’s certainly put a lot of things in perspective for me. We are so lucky to have our health but we can’t take anything, any day or anyone in our lives for granted.’

  The last forty-eight hours—trying to remain optimistic and strong for Emma—had clarified a lot of things for Flick. As had Neve talking about James and Will meaning more to her than anything. Flick understood that because Seb, Zoe, Toby, and now Beau, were her world. She didn’t want to even try to imagine her life without any of them in it.

  ‘No. Never.’

  ‘We’ve moved our flights forward to tomorrow,’ she told him. ‘We called Emma’s boss, and even though it was the middle of the night, he organised everything for us.’ She gave Seb their flight details and the time they were due to land at Perth airport.

  ‘I can’t wait to see you,’ he said, his tone uncertain.

  ‘I know,’ she breathed. ‘And I can’t wait to see you. I’ll need to be there for Emma over the next few weeks, months, but I know we need to talk too. I was shocked when I found out about your wish to transition, and I’m not sure I reacted as I should have.’

  ‘You reacted better than I imagined, to be honest,’ Seb said. ‘I never meant for you to find out the way you did. I just didn’t know how to tell you.’

  ‘That’s in the past now. I want to discuss the future, our future, and I want to know everything about how you feel and what you want to do.’

  There was silence on the other end of the line so that after a few moments Flick wondered if they’d been disconnected. ‘Seb? Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes.’ His voice was choked with emotion. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’m not making any promises yet. I haven’t made any decisions, but I’m ready to talk.’

  ‘That’s all I ask,’ Seb said. ‘How’s Emma taking all of this?’

  Flick sighed. ‘It’s hard to tell. She’s not one to speak openly about her feelings. Sin
ce Max betrayed her trust, she keeps a lot to herself, but here and there she lets things slip and I know she’s worried about finances and the kids. About what will happen if she needs to be off work for an extended period and how Caleb and the twins will cope while she’s in hospital or if …’ She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

  ‘Divorced or not,’ Seb said matter-of-factly, ‘Max will have to step up to the mark. They’re his kids too and if he loves them, he’ll make sure their mum is financially okay and they’re looked after. And we’ll be there for her as well.’

  They spoke for another few minutes and then Seb apologised about having to get up and ready for work.

  ‘That’s okay. I should get back so Neve can call James.’

  ‘Who’s James?’ Seb asked, and Flick remembered just how little they’d been talking when she decided to go to New York. Although she’d told Seb earlier about Neve’s dilemma, she’d never told him that was the reason behind going to New York. As far as he and the kids were concerned, Flick and Emma were accompanying Neve on a work trip.

  ‘It’s a long story, but I promise to fill you in on everything when I get back home. Have a good day.’

  ‘You too. Love you. Travel safe.’

  Flick tried to say ‘love you too’ but the words caught in her throat.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Genevieve

  Neve’s fingers barely even shook as she dialled James’s phone from a couch downstairs in the hotel lobby. She’d been more nervous sitting in the doctor’s office with Emma waiting for her diagnosis. Funny how tragedy had a way of making you see things more clearly. That and the fact that she was too tired to get overly worked up.

  He answered after a few rings. ‘I told you I needed time to think and that I’d call you before you left.’

  ‘I know,’ she replied to his accusing tone, ‘but my situation has changed and I’m paying you the courtesy of telling you I’m going back to Australia tomorrow morning. So, if you want to meet again in person, it will have to be tonight.’