by Shari Low
Shit, she hadn’t even checked with Jeanna on her results.
‘I have breast cancer,’ Jeanna said, her voice oddly detached, her face devoid of any emotion. ‘Got called back last week for more tests. It’s in my left boob.’
Claire was too stunned to speak for a moment.
‘Oh God, I’m so sorry, Jeanna.’
She would not cry. She would not cry. This wasn’t about her, it was about her friend, and she needed to be strong for her. She managed to keep it together until one silent tear ran down Jeanna’s cheek. She’d seen Jeanna cry once in her life, when they were in college and her mother – her only relative – died. So the sight of this woman she loved shedding a tear was too much.
Claire crumbled, shot over to Jeanna’s side, wrapped her arms around her and they cried until their chests hurt with the pain of it.
Eventually, throat hoarse, Jeanna found the words to talk.
‘They’re removing the lump next week and then I’ll have radiation and chemo. And I know I’m crying, but I’m fine. I am. I’ve totally got this.’
Claire could see otherwise. She had a sudden flashback to that night when she’d found Jeanna in a similar state. When she’d calmed down enough to speak, she’d revealed that her mum had passed away. Cervical cancer. They’d known she was ill, but were so sure she would beat it because her mother had never admitted how advanced it was, choosing to play her illness down to her daughter, not wanting to worry her. She’d been stoic and tough as nails, insisting she was fine… Just as Jeanna was doing now. Claire knew better than to believe her.
‘What can I do to help you?’ she begged, devastated, willing to do anything to ease her friend’s pain.
Jeanna smiled ruefully. ‘Tidy my kitchen?’
‘Done,’ Claire replied, getting up and pulling on a pair of marigolds from the counter. ‘We’ll get through this, Jeanna. We will. I’ll be with you every single day until this is done.’
‘Just as well, because the other news is that Giles is gone too.’
‘What? The bastard! He left you now? When this happens?’
‘Nope, he doesn’t know. I didn’t tell him. We were done. To be honest, I’ve been seeing someone else – you don’t know him – and I’ve no doubt Giles was too. I didn’t want him staying here out of pity, so we called it a day. I think he was relieved.’
‘And the other guy?’
Jeanna shrugged. ‘That’s over too. It was just a fling. Nothing serious.’
Normally Claire would press for details on the participant of the ‘fling’, but now wasn’t the time. ‘Bloody hell, Jeanna, I leave you alone for a few days…’ she said, trying to copy Jeanna’s pragmatic attitude.
‘I know,’ Jeanna agreed. ‘And, er, I did fall apart a bit as you can see.’
Claire was loading the dishes into a sink of hot soapy water now. She’d have this place sorted out in no time, but she was furious with herself for allowing her friend to deal with this on her own. She should have been here, taking care of her.
Suddenly, she stopped soaping, the answer completely obvious. ‘You know what, Jeanna, this is no good.’
‘I know, it sucks.’
‘No, I mean this situation. Go pack a bag, you’re coming to stay with us until you’re well again. No arguments.’
Jeanna automatically ignored the last part. ‘But I’m—’
‘Jeanna, no arguments! Look, Sam and the kids and you and Doug are the only family I have left. My mum and dad don’t count, because they’re fecking useless. I want to take care of you.’ She could see Jeanna still wasn’t on board, so she chose another tack. ‘Do it for me. I’ve just lost Fred, and that’s a huge hole. His room is lying empty and it makes me weep every time I pass it.’
‘So you want me to fill your huge hole?’ Jeanna asked archly.
Bloody hell. The worst time in her life and she was still going for inappropriate innuendo. This cancer didn’t stand a chance, Claire decided.
‘Absolutely. As soon as possible. Go pack a bag. Besides, my boys will be delighted to have you there. Just don’t lead them to a gutter or a cell.’ If Jeanna could use humour at this time, then so could she. She’d play this out on any terms that Jeanna wanted.
Jeanna sighed, rolled her eyes. ‘OK then. I suppose so. It’ll save me cooking. I phoned for a pizza last night, so I’m clearly on the road to ruin.’
Claire laughed, bringing on more tears, and threw her arms around her pal. Whatever Jeanna had to face, she would do it with her.
‘We’ve got this, Jeanna McCallan. Don’t you worry.’
Jeanna hugged her back, an unusual occurrence given her loathing of displays of affection.
Claire finished clearing up the house while Jeanna packed, and made sure the bins were empty and nothing electrical was left on.
Half an hour later, they were in the car when Jeanna reached over and took her hand.
‘Thanks for this. I know I don’t tell you, but I love you.’
‘I know. And I love you back. More than you know.’
They drove on with red rimmed eyes.
They picked up Jordy and Max on the way, both of whom were delighted to see their favourite aunt.
‘Right, you two, I’m going to be staying with you for a while…’
‘Why?’ Max asked. He was almost eleven and eternally curious.
‘Cockroaches,’ she replied. ‘They’ve taken over my flat.’
‘Eeeeeeew,’ the boys recoiled.
It set the tone for them to drive the rest of the way talking about all things bug related and disgusting.
Claire had no idea how the next couple of months would play out, but she knew that the boys were going to be Jeanna’s greatest distraction. She loved being around them and that had to be good for her. They’d manage the tough times, the fatigue, the sickness and the chemo on a day-by-day basis. But whatever came their way, they could deal with it better if they were together.
Back home, they had a quick bite to eat, before it was time to leave for their afterschool clubs, but Claire suddenly felt reluctant to go.
‘We can skip their clubs tonight, it’s no problem. Let’s just stay in, watch a movie,’ she suggested to Jeanna, who was having none of it.
‘Absolutely not. Look, I can only do this if we try to keep things normal. I’m not having the kids miss stuff because I’m here. To be honest, I could do with unpacking and having a sleep, so I’d be grateful if you all buggered off.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Positive,’ Jeanna assured her.
Claire decided to go with it. If she tried to smother Jeanna, her pal would get pissed off and hightail it back to her own house. Better to play it out exactly as she wanted.
‘OK, well, I’ll be back at nine o’clock. Sam should be in about then too. Max’s rugby is over near Grandad’s house, so I’d planned to meet Doug there to help him clear it out. I can make it another night…’
‘Nooooooooo,’ Jeanna blurted, exasperated. ‘Do exactly as you planned. If I’m bored before you get back, I’ll shag your husband to keep me amused.’
Yep, they were back in the gutter.
‘Good to know you’ve got a backup plan,’ Claire quipped, laughing. She hugged her friend, rounded up the boys and took off, dropping Jordy at football, then Max at rugby.
When she pulled up outside Fred’s house, her first reaction was devastating sadness. She’d been coming here since she was a kid. She’d even lived here for a couple of years as a teenager, when she couldn’t stomach her parents any longer. This was her and Doug’s place of safety and comfort. It was where she felt more at home than anywhere else she’d ever lived. Now Fred was gone and she’d miss that feeling, just as she’d miss him every single day.
Her second reaction was confusion when she saw her father’s Mercedes parked outside, next to Doug’s ancient jeep.
What the hell were her parents doing here? Dear God, hadn’t there been enough turmoil today?
W
orry about Jeanna rose from her gut and closed her throat. None of this petty stuff mattered. All that was important was that she sorted out Fred’s house, then got back home to look after her friend.
She tried to use her front door key, but it wouldn’t work. Doug must have heard her because, the next minute, it swung open. Claire’s first thought was that she’d never seen him look so flushed and flustered. And that was before she even told him about Jeanna. The two of them had been so close their whole lives, she knew he’d be devastated.
‘Hey,’ she greeted him, kissing him on the cheek and hugging him as she always did. ‘What’s up? Are you OK?’
‘Run now,’ he said, sounding desperately weary. ‘Save yourself. If this turns into a crime scene, tell the police you knew nothing about it.’
Oh Jesus. This couldn’t be good. Doug was the most laid back guy she’d ever known. If he was stressed, it must be really bad. But then, their parents did have that effect on them.
Instead of fleeing, she followed him into the kitchen to see her mum and dad standing there, leaning on the worktop, holding hands. Of course they fucking were.
‘What are you two doing here?’ she asked. She was still sickened after their display of hypocrisy at the funeral.
‘Don’t speak to your mother like that,’ her dad chided her like she was six and had just answered back.
‘Dad, I’ve had a long, tough day. I can’t be doing with this just now, I really can’t. Doug and I need to get Grandad’s house cleared so we can give it back to the council. So whatever it is, whatever you want, just take it and leave us to it.’
Her father came right back at her, his usual sneer on his face. ‘Yeah, well, we were just telling Doug you don’t need to worry about that, because we’ll take care of it.’
That news almost floored her. They would take care of it? They were finally stepping up and helping? They’d wanted nothing to do with him when he was alive, but they were going to help now that he was dead? If this was what guilt did, she was happy to take it, especially now when she had other priorities.
Her expression must have shown that she viewed this as a positive thing, because Doug jumped in before she could reply.
‘And go on, tell her why you’re suddenly being so fucking magnanimous.’
‘Don’t you dare speak—’ their dad started.
‘Aw, fuck off,’ Doug cut him dead.
‘Douglas!’ her mother shrieked.
Claire finally found her voice. ‘What the hell is going on?’
‘We own this house,’ her mother said sniffily, ‘so we’ll take care of everything from here on in.’
‘You what?’
Claire didn’t understand. This was a council house. Fred had been insistent that he would never buy it because he wanted it to go to a family that needed it after he was gone. How could they own it? And then it dawned on her.
‘You bought it? Is that why my key wouldn’t work? You’ve already changed the locks because you’ve bought this house? Grandad wouldn’t have wanted that and he’d never have allowed you to do it.’
Her dad shrugged. ‘Well, sometimes he didn’t know what was best for everyone concerned. This house is worth something. No point letting that go to strangers.’
Doug spoke up. ‘How did you make him sign it over to you?’
‘You don’t need to worry about the ins and outs of it,’ Ray shut the question down. ‘All you need to know is that it’s ours now.’
Claire challenged them, her voice raised now. ‘How could you? How the fuck could you do that?’
Her mother came right back at her. ‘He was my father. Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?’ she sneered. ‘Your dad is right. It was the smart thing to do. The old fool just couldn’t see that.’
‘The old fool?’ Her voice was rising to a level that could crack Fred’s old windows. ‘Don’t you bloody dare call him that. He was the most loving, the most decent man we ever knew and he was no fool.’
She took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm herself and dispel the urge to slap her mother’s smug, arrogant face. There was a pause before she could continue.
‘So what are you going to do with it?’ she demanded.
‘Fix it up, sell it on,’ her dad said, completely unashamedly. ‘Make a tidy profit. That’s what life’s about, isn’t it?’
Claire’s fingers tightened into a fist. Her heart was pounding so loudly it sounded like a bass drum in her head and she couldn’t remember ever being angrier in her life.
These two had been crap parents her whole life, but this was an all time low. They’d absolutely betrayed Fred. They’d somehow conned him into signing this house over when he was alive and now they were going to make money from him in death. It was about as despicable as it got and there was no coming back from it. Ranting and raving about it wouldn’t change things and it definitely wouldn’t bring Fred back. In truth, he was the only important person in all of this. These two truly, absolutely did not matter.
Her gaze met Doug’s and there was a telepathic exchange in which they both instinctively knew what the other was thinking.
She pulled up her shoulders, stared her father square in the eye.
‘You two are scum,’ she said, her voice low and unrelenting. ‘And Doug and I don’t associate with scum. We’re done. Not that you ever cared, but don’t call us, don’t text us, don’t contact us ever again. And good luck with the profits from this sale – I hope they choke you.’
‘Who the fuck do you think you are, Miss High and Bloody Mighty?’ He was going red in the face now, spittle flying from his mouth as he spoke.
‘Ray, don’t let her upset you,’ her mother wittered.
‘Upset him? Oh Christ. I can’t tell you how much I hope that I am absolutely nothing like you.’ She turned back to her dad. ‘And as for who I think I am? I’m Fred McAlee’s granddaughter. I’m sure as hell not related to you two.’
And with that, Claire turned around and she and Doug walked out of their parents’ lives.
She just hoped that one day this abhorrent behaviour, this absolutely repulsive lack of loyalty and decency, would come right back and destroy them. The sooner, the better.
Thirty
Denise 2019
Staring at the ceiling wasn’t working. Denise had hoped that it would still her mind, centre her soul, but all it was doing was sending her brain into overdrive and allowing the pain to spread until it was permeating every sinew and crevice of her body.
This bedroom had always been her haven, her sanctuary, but now, with the afternoon sun forcing its way in around the edges of the blinds, the quiet solitude was allowing her to replay the morning over and over again in her head. Looking out Ray’s clothes, taking them to the funeral home, then returning home and all the financial stuff. This morning she was aching with loss. Now she was drowning in fear.
She just didn’t understand. It was like some kind of bad movie playing out, with the man she loved in the central role.
Why was she dealing with all this alone? She had never been one of those women who had a gaggle of girlfriends like the yoga chicks in the cafe. If she had spare time, or worries, or things to plan, the only person she wanted to share that with was her husband. He’d been her best friend since she was fifteen years old and she honestly didn’t regret that for a single second. He had always been everything she needed, but now he wasn’t here, she didn’t know where to turn. Again, she thought about calling Claire and Doug, but decided against it. Neither of them could make this any better, so what was the point? The only person she wanted here was Ray.
Sleep wouldn’t come, no matter how tightly she squeezed her eyes shut. Instead she rolled over, pulled his pillow towards her and hugged it, like she could pretend for just a moment that it was him. It still carried his scent. A week after he’d passed, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to change the bed linen because she didn’t want to lose that smell. Sometimes it was a comfort, other times it
was like a vivid reminder, tormenting her, reinforcing her loss.
She couldn’t lie here any longer. Not on the sheets they’d shared, in the bed that Ray had picked himself, in the room he’d designed. This was all him and she’d adored every corner of it. Not now.
Mind racing again. There was nothing she could do to change the fact that he was gone, but the practicalities were weighing on her. She’d planned to leave everything to one side for today, but now that sleep wasn’t coming, she decided she needed the distraction. Anything to stop her mind spiralling into ever darker places.
With a defeated groan, she pushed herself up from the bed and headed to the shower, dropping her clothes on the way. She’d never have done that before, but right now she didn’t care – she just wanted to be rid of the outer shell she’d had when she stood in that undertaker’s room, when she walked back, when she opened that bank statement and when she discovered a whole heap of questions about the man she’d been married to.
The shower belched steam when she put it on the highest heat and stepped in, desperate to wash away every trace of the day. Her pain receptors screamed as her skin turned scarlet, but she didn’t care. At least for a few minutes, the physical pain masked the hurt on the inside.
When her body could stand it no more, she shut the shower off, grabbed the robe from the back of the bathroom door and swaddled herself in it. Too late, she realised it was Ray’s, one of the matching silver-grey pair he’d bought them before their skiing holiday a few winters ago. The last time she saw him wearing it was on his way to the shower on the morning he died. He’d hung that robe on the back of the door and less than five minutes later he was dying. The memory slayed her, forcing her to the floor for the second time today. She curled up on the marble tiles, her whole body shaking with the violence of her sobs.