That Elusive Cure

by Lisa C Hinsley

  “Oh, almost forgot.” The scarf lay discarded over the back of an upside down pew. My heart skipped a beat as I realized after all our precautions we’d almost walked merrily out into the street. Despite all his help in getting the machine fixed, he was still an unknown quantity to me. And to be honest, in his position, I’d make it my mission to steal the pod.

  Bob complained but allowed me to wrap the scarf around his head. Jimmy opened up the car and we led him to the back seat and made him lie down again.

  “Home then,” I said.

  The church was locked up, safe and sound. The machinery was working again, producing more of those little miracle particles. A plan to break Sally out of the hospital was hatching in my brain. I’d get her here in fifteen days on the nose and mend her broken brain. She’d be the Sally of old, before she started showing symptoms. I blew a kiss to the giant oak door as Jimmy pulled away.

  Despite being blindfolded and tossed in the backseat of our car, Bob chattered non-stop all the way home. He was spewing all kinds of technical talk that I didn’t understand a word of. I think he was a step further down the line to figuring out the nanoparticles we’d given him. Maybe he’d memorized enough of the guts of the machine to start making his own. That would be fine with me. Then he wouldn’t have to steal ours.

  I stretched back, feeling a little more comfortable, more rested and secure than I had in some time. A slight smile on Jimmy’s lips was probably matched with my own version. This was the time to be quietly confident, if ever there was one.

  Home was as we left it, with Bob’s old Fiesta like a stain on the pavement. If he did figure out the secrets of the machine he’d soon have more money than he’d know what to do with. I wondered if he’d keep Bessie.

  I opened up the front door. Bob was emerging from the backseat, the scarf now in his hands and still babbling scientific nonsense at us. The postie had been and I picked up the letters, shuffling though as I made my way to the kitchen. The day had started early and I was desperate for a decent cup of tea.

  Halfway to the kitchen I stopped dead. There among the bills and junk mail was a creamy envelope with my name handwritten in tidy script. I dropped the other cards on the table and ripped the flap.

  “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.”

  Jimmy came up behind me and peered over my shoulder. “What is it?”

  “It’s from Richard Newland.”

  He shook his head, confused. “Who?”

  “Newland, he’s the guy that started all of this. He’s the guy who owns the church.”

  “Oh shit.” Jimmy sat heavily on a chair. “What did you ask him?”

  I put a hand to my tummy to try and quell the growing butterflies there. “I don’t remember exactly. Just asked where the machine came from, I think.” I scanned the letter, too anxious to read it word for word. I saw something about trips away and…

  “Oh no.”

  “What? What is it?” Jimmy sat forward, his eyes fixed on the letter. “What does he say?”

  Aware of Bob standing somewhere behind me, and unsure whether he should be privy to the letter, I read the letter out regardless.

  Here goes nothing, I thought and began to speak.

  “Dear Kath,

  Thank you for your letter. I must admit it was a great surprise to be found. I was under the impression that my part in this was anonymous.”

  That was funny, it seemed Mr. Newland was like an urban legend when it came to the machine, with his name bandied about by all and sundry.

  “It has been a number of years since I last set eyes on the church and that wonderful MicroHealth pod. I would very much like to see it again.”

  Shit, shit, shit. The words blurred as I tried to see the entire letter all at the same time.

  “I do hope that wonderful machine has given you a new lease of life – a cancer-free life as it has surely done to so many people already. I’m not sure I can answer as many questions as you hope about the origins, but I will certainly do my best.

  The health benefit from the machine means I have retained the energy levels of a far younger man. Although I’m in my eighties now, I still hold the reins to my company. I have to attend a business gathering in Scotland next week, after that I would be honored to meet you and see the machine one more time.”

  If I could push him back enough the pod might have finished fixing itself. Maybe, just maybe we’d get through this without anyone realizing we’d broken the precious machine.

  “I feel the time has come to confess how I came to own the machine, and I look forward to imparting this knowledge on you. I will call closer to the date of my visit.

  Warm regards,

  Rich”

  Jimmy stared at me, a stunned expression on his face. I figured mine matched.

  “I need to be there. You can say I’m your brother.”

  I’d forgotten about Bob.

  The scientist continued, “If I know how it was made maybe I can find out more about how the machinery works and move towards manufacturing more pods. Imagine having one in every hospital.” He paused then said, “There wouldn’t be hospitals anymore, they’d be in every doctor’s office. No sick people anymore.” His eyes glazed over. “We’ll be the richest people on the planet.”

  Jimmy looked over my shoulder at Bob, the mention of money grabbing his attention.

  “Look you two, before you decide what color your Lamborghini is going to be let’s get through this meeting with Rich. Okay?”

  I stalked through to the kitchen and up to the calendar. In black marker I wrote 15 on today’s square and circled it. Then I wrote 14 on tomorrow’s and kept going until I got to the number 1. On the Tuesday two weeks and a day away I drew an X. Nerves got the better of me again, and I capped the pen and dropped it back into the pen pot, wondering how on earth I would last the fortnight.

  27

  Losing It

  Thursday arrived and I woke up with the knowledge that at about ten o’clock a bunch of consultants and doctors would all be in a meeting room discussing my case. Dr. Whoever-he-was who had subbed for our regular oncologist last week had mentioned surgery, and I still couldn’t believe it. Even if the pod never worked again I had new options open to me.

  Jimmy came into the bedroom with two cups of tea. “Good morning. Do you remember what’s happening today?”

  He put one of the mugs on my bedside cabinet and stood by the door while I plumped my pillows and sat up.

  “Yes, of course I remember. It’s the MDT.”

  “When I spoke to Mr. Noble’s nurse Jill she said she’d phone afterwards. Expect the phone to ring after midday. Excited?”

  Still waking up, I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. I certainly wasn’t as anxious as I should have been. But that’s because in a mere twelve days whatever the doctors came up with wouldn’t matter anymore. I’d be cured and their proposed treatment would be moot.

  “I might go out and ignore it all,” I said watching Jimmy for a reaction. “I got me a loverboy over at the gym. He texted me and maybe I’ll pay him a visit.”

  Jimmy snorted. “You haven’t been to the gym in two years.”

  I tried not to laugh. “Maybe I started going and didn’t tell you.”

  “That reminds me. Do you know we’re still paying for your membership? Seems a waste. Could spend that money in better ways.”

  “But how will I see my loverboy?”

  Jimmy left, chuckling as he went into his study.

  I lay there a while, sipping my tea and imagining a meeting room deep inside one of the Aintree hospital buildings, an unknown number of doctors and consultants giving my file time, studying my scans, deciding on my future. Jill would phone once she had news, but that wouldn’t be until the afternoon if past experience was anything to go by.

  The book I’d been reading didn’t appeal. I did try, but the third time I read the same page and still didn’t absorb the words I gave up. A shower helped. I stood under the water, the tempera
ture as hot as I could stand until my skin hurt and my head cleared. No point fretting. The machine would indeed finish recharging itself and I’d have no need for whatever the doctors were planning.

  The phone rang as I dressed. I ran for it, my heart beating hard. Midday was a bit early, but maybe I was first on the list. I grabbed the handset and answered it breathlessly.

  “Yes?”

  “Mum, it’s me.” Cass, not the nurse, and she sounded like she was crying.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s the baby, Mum. I’m losing it.” She burst into tears.

  “Oh no, Cass. Is Jack with you?”

  Through her sobs I made out a yes.

  “Sweetheart, I’m coming over.” I struggled with my socks one-handed. “I’ll be over in half an hour. You hold on.”

  I hung up and rushed the last of my clothes on.

  “Jimmy, I’ve got to go to Cass’s. She’s losing the baby.”

  Jimmy looked up from his computer. “Well, maybe that’s for the best. They are so young.”

  “Jesus, Jimmy. Have a heart why don’t you.” I shot him a dirty look.

  “Hey, just saying. It’s sad, but these things happen.”

  Men. I turned and stalked off, grabbing my keys and leaving without so much as a goodbye. Jesus, how could he be so cold?

  How far had things gone with Cass? Maybe the machine had charged up faster than anticipated. If the baby was still alive in her, maybe it could fix things. I veered off the route to Cass’s flat and stopped at the church. Since the fiasco with Jimmy I kept the key with me at all times. I opened up and ran inside. The panel opened and closed smoothly and the machine spoke the words that were now so familiar to me.

  “Power restarting. Diagnostics initiating. Pressure in the nanoparticle chamber is 99% and functionality is restored. Nanoparticle density is 60% and not high enough for functionality. Estimated time to recharge nanoparticles is twelve days. Recommend recharging with MicroHealth nanoparticles. Please contact MicroHealth representative.”

  I slammed my hand into the nearest pew. Shit. “Why can’t you be fixed?” I shouted at the pod.

  Cass was waiting for me, and this stupid machine was useless. I locked up and drove too fast to my daughter’s flat. If only I hadn’t hidden the key at home. If only Jimmy hadn’t had to look inside the machinery. If only he hadn’t broken the damn pipe. I’d be fixed and I could race Cass over and mend the little baby inside of her. Tears welled up at the unfairness of it all.

  I found Cass in a huddle on her bed. Jack attended her, playing a far better nurse to her than I could right now. The doctor had already paid them a visit, the advice given to let nature take its course. Feeling impotent I sat with her, listening to her cry and holding her hand.

  As late afternoon drew in, Jack suggested I go. His usual Goth makeup was absent and he looked ten years younger, like nothing more than a child playing at adults. I gave them both hugs and let them have their privacy.

  The drive home was slower than the panicked race over earlier. But a deep anger was growing in me, anger at Jimmy for messing up, for breaking a miracle machine. I pulled in the driveway as a rage descended on me.

  Slamming the front door as I came in, I shouted up the stairs, “Jimmy get down here now!”

  “What’s wrong with you?” He appeared on the half landing looking unsure.

  “Your daughter is miscarrying your first grandchild and your reaction was a shrug of the shoulders. How can you be so fucking cold?”

  He started at my words. “Just because I don’t break down in tears doesn’t mean I don’t feel. How dare you.” He turned to go back upstairs.

  “Oh no you don’t. Get down here.”

  He hesitated.

  “Now!” I shrieked and lobbed my keys at him. “Cass’s baby has died and I could have fucking fixed it! If you hadn’t broken the machine, if you hadn’t been such a fucking meddler, then none of this would be happening!”

  Jimmy recoiled, rubbing his arm where the keys hit. “I don’t have to listen to this. I’ll talk to you when you’re rational.”

  “Don’t you fucking ‘rational’ me.” I took the stairs two at a time, chasing him down. He’d gone to hide in his study. I grabbed a file off the shelf and heaved it at him. “You fucked it all up! I could have been cancer-free by now. Cass could be fine, but no, you had to have a look. You had to have a fiddle. Couldn’t you have kept your big clumsy fucking fingers to yourself?”

  He sat there silently, his expression dark.

  “What if you hadn’t found Bob? Then what? You wouldn’t have a clue what to do. The machine wouldn’t have stood a fucking chance with you ballsing it up.”

  I grabbed a pencil pot and hit him in the chest with it. Pens and pencils flew in all directions.

  “You’re an idiot, you know that, a fucking idiot!”

  Jimmy remained infuriatingly silent.

  “Answer me!” I stepped towards him, and he flinched. “I’m not going to hit you, for god’s sake, I just want an answer. Why did you have to break my miracle?”

  That was it. The tears started to flow. I stood there, weeping, feeling the sadness that seemed to root itself deep in my soul. Jimmy did nothing, just sat there, fingers linked across his belly, his eyes narrowed into slits.

  “Dad’s got prostate cancer. The machine diagnosed him,” I said between sobs. “What if it never works again and he dies?”

  Jimmy didn’t move.

  “Goddamn it, don’t you have any emotions?” I was reaching for another folder when the phone rang.

  “You going to get that?” Jimmy finally spoke, his voice cold.

  Wiping my eyes and dragging in steadying breaths I picked up the handset.

  “Hello, may I speak to Kath Wyatt?”

  “This is Kath,” I replied.

  “Oh hi, Kath. It’s Jill here. I have news.”

  I wiped at my face, trying to dry the tears while the nurse spoke.

  “Mr. Wright doesn’t feel he could successfully remove all the tumors. One of them is very close to the hepatic artery and he’s not convinced he’d be able to get clear margins.”

  I slumped against the wall.

  Jill continued, “There was a specialist in radiotherapy in the room when your case was being discussed. Dr. Feldman says you’re an ideal candidate for a new kind of treatment called radioembolisation or SIRTs. His nurse will be in contact shortly to make an appointment with you.”

  I thanked her for calling and hung up the phone. Not the news I’d expected. I couldn’t deal with anymore changes and went to lie down. The bedroom was cold and I threw the covers over me and hugged a pillow. The rage had dissipated but the harm had been done. No matter how much Jimmy deserved my anger it didn’t help matters. Tears flowed again, and I pulled my legs close and cried myself to sleep.

  28

  Dreaming of a Great Escape

  Dear Sally,

  I wonder when they’ll let me call you. Hopefully the nurses and doctors are treating you right and you’re getting the treatment you need. When do you think they’ll let you out for a day? The weather has been fabulous. We need to go down to New Brighton with the kids. You and I can lie on towels while the two of them build sandcastles and play in the sea.

  There’s one of those pirate re-enactments they do at Fort Perch in a couple of weekends. I thought Wendy might let me take the kids there, that is if they haven’t let you out by then. I could make them pirate clothes and color Peter’s face so it looks like he’s got stubble. Which one of them should I give an eye patch to? Remember all the costumes I made for Cass when she was little? You were always amazed at them. I might have some of the better ones in the attic still. Maybe I should get them down for the kids?

  If the docs don’t let you out for an entire day, maybe they’ll let me take you to the park? We could go to Royden park and walk around watching the dogs and debating which one we liked best.

  I’m thinking of you all the time, Sa
l. Hurry up and come home.

  Kath xxxoooxxx

  I reread the letter and decided I’d put just enough hints at taking her off safely for a day. The machine would only need ten minutes to do its thing, once it had recharged and was working again. She needed to last out another eleven days. That wasn’t so much.

  Sealing up the letter, I decided once again to drive to the hospital. Most of the journey was on the motorway and driving fast suited me right now. I blasted the music but didn’t really listen what was playing and put my foot down far too heavily.

  Jimmy flitted in and out of mind as I drove. He’d not spoken to me since my outburst yesterday and I wasn’t about to apologize for being angry at something he’d done wrong. We’d survived cancer where so many other couples can’t cope with the stress, and a strange machine from the future – if that’s what it was – is what does us in. The bed felt so big during the night, like a chasm had opened up between us. I’d give it another day then try talking to him. Today I was too wound up with thoughts of Sally to deal with him as well.

  I concentrated on the road and tried to shake myself free of angry thoughts. Just in case I could go in to see her I needed to be calm and open to her needs, not hung up on my own issues. But I couldn’t help but think that I could have had her in the machine and well before the breakdown had even happened.

  A road sign flashed past. Another half hour to go, roughly, before I got there. Someone else was travelling, Rich Newland. Next week he was coming to see the machine. My heart jumped at the thought. Somehow I had to put him off for a week, let the pod finish recharging. If I told him we were going on holiday that might work, but then again, if I were him, I’d have a second key. I pictured the big old-fashioned design in my mind and wondered if they could even be copied. Everyone had those Yale type keys these days. I’d go down to the shop in Moreton later and see what the man could do about making a duplicate.

  The other thing I wanted to do was nip down to the church and check on the progress of the machine, make sure it was recharging on schedule. Lots could happen with nearly two weeks until it was supposed to be working again. Who knows, maybe they’d release Sally before the machine had finished growing its nanoparticles and I could take her to the church without stealing her. Would tinkering with her brain change her? Maybe she’d come out of the pod with a different personality? How much of her and the way she behaved was down to being bipolar?