‘So what’s the problem then?’ sheasked.
‘I’ll tell you what the problem is. I’m going to get fat. I’ll be waddling down the street like some overgrown penguin. Suffering back pain and developing a taste forgherkins.’
‘And having mood swings,’ said Annabel, unable to quite helpherself.
‘Exactly!’ saidRebecca.
Annabel wondered if her sister knew how selfish she sounded. She’d have traded places with her in an instant given half a chance, waddle or no waddle. There had to be more to this than she was admitting. Everyone knew her sister bloomed duringpregnancy.
‘What’s all this really about?’ she asked. ‘You’ve always loved beingpregnant.’
Her sister reached into her bag and pulled out atissue.
‘Well?’ said Annabel. Waiting for an answer, she was determined to get to the bottom of this if itkilledher.
‘It’s about Gavin,’ Rebecca finallyreplied.
At last, maybe now they were actually gettingsomewhere.
‘Whatabouthim?’
Rebecca’s lip began to quiveragain.
Another unwanted thought suddenly entered Annabel’s head, this one worse than the first. ‘He’s not sick is he?’ she asked. She felt her whole body tense up in anticipation. ‘Please tell me hasn’t got some god-awful disease.’ Having lost her own husband, the thought of her sister losing hers felt equally unbearable; and not just on behalf of Rebecca, but for the childrenaswell.
‘No, it’s nothing like that,’ she replied, wipinghereyes.
Thank God,thought Annabel,relaxing.
‘So what is it then?’ she asked. ‘What’s the matter?’ In her view, if Gavin wasn’t dying, nothing could be so bad as to warrantallthis.
‘He’s bored with me,’ said Rebecca. ‘After nearly ten years together, he’s finally gotfedup.’
‘What are you talking about now? Of course he’s not fed up.’ As far as Annabel was concerned, life with her sister as of late was anything but boring. ‘I think the fact that you’re pregnant proves he’s still interested,don’tyou?’
Feeling a mixture of frustration and helplessness, she watched Rebecca burst into full blowntears.
‘Then why is he having an affair?’shesaid.
16
‘At last,’said Dan. Relieved to hear voices filtering up from the hallway, he tossed his book to one side. Reading had been a fruitless exercise from the start, but he’d had to find something to take his mind off what was taking place in the kitchen. Try as he might though, he hadn’t absorbed a single word, and all courtesy of that vulturedownstairs.
He listened as the front door finally opened and closed, he imagined his mum’s visitor making his way down the path. All the while rubbing his greasy hands together thanks to the sale he’d just clinched. Dan sneered. Not that he’d had to work for it. Not inhisgame.
Glad he no longer had to hide away; he swung his legs off the bed and stood up. He stretched his back out and could only guess at the amount of money his mother had just spent. He felt cowardly for not offering his support, especially when she’d made it clear she valued his opinion. However, it was bad enough Dan knew that his mother was going to die, without listening to her organise her own funeral. Funeral arrangements signified the end, something he wasn’t yet readytoface.
Dan headed downstairs and told himself that today was no different to when the nurses came. Apart from the fact that in those instances, rather than let him be present, his mother actually ordered him out of the room. Heaven forbid he should glean the slightest bit of information on her condition. So much so, she’d instructed her medical staff to keep schtum when it cametohim.
He recalled how he’d tried to discretely accost, Jill, one of the nurses, in the hope of having a little chat; except, just like today’s reading, that turned out to be a pointless exercise too. She was very nice about it, even if she did politely and sympathetically tell him that patient confidentiality kept her from divulging anything.Thank God for the Internet, thought Dan. If it weren’t for modern day technology he’d still know absolutelynothing.
He entered the kitchen and caught sight of the various coffin brochures littering the dining table. They seemed to mock him as he put the kettle on. ‘Everything sorted?’ heasked.
His mother failed to look up and continued to scribble in her notepad, her concentration was there for all to see. No doubt, making notes on what she’d decided upon, getting everything down before she forgot mostofit.
She’d been doing that a lot lately, thought Dan. She could be half way through a sentence and suddenly not know what it was she’d wanted to say. Partly because of her illness, he realised, cancer pain was enough to stop even the greatest minds in their tracks. And partly because of the side effects of all the drugs she was now taking.Oramorphfor the pain,Stemetilfor the nausea,Midazolamfor the anxiety … the listwenton.
Anxiety,Dan scoffed to himself,such a funny word under the circumstances. As far as he was concerned, anxiety was something you felt when you didn’t want to go to the dentist. Surely the excruciating agony his mum experienced, and the fact that she faced certain death, deserved something more fitting? In Dan’s opinion,Midazolam for pain-induced suicidal thoughts and being shit-scared of dyingmight not have the same ring to it, but it certainly seemed moreappropriate.
