Rosie and I said our goodbyes to both of them. It was hard letting Adam go, but there really was nothing else for it. And he promised Rosie he would be in touch. That would have to be good enough for now.
After the children left, the feeling of anticlimax was awful and I felt it was down to me that things hadn’t gone all that well. I was about to apologise to Rosie for messing up – again - but she spoke first.
“Thanks, Tom. I couldn’t take any more. You did the right thing – calling a halt. We’re going to have to take it slow with him.”
“Oh – you’re not angry with me then?” I said.
“Angry? No I’m not angry. You want the best for him – I know that. He just doesn’t see it that way.” She sighed.
“Come on, Rosie – you’re shattered – you need to rest. Go and lie down. You’ve gone very pale again.”
“Yes, Doctor,” she said, managing to smile. She stood up, but then she staggered a bit and held the arm of the chair. She seemed even paler, if that was possible. “I feel a bit faint,” she said. She swayed forwards.
I was on my feet in an instant. I scooped her up and carried her through to the front bedroom. I was shocked at how light she was. She’d lost a hell of a lot of weight. I laid her gently on the bed and put the pillows under her feet. I sat on the edge of the bed beside her and took her pulse. It was weak and her breathing was shallow. I opened the window and returned to sit on the bed beside her. I stroked her hand and bent and kissed her forehead. “Take deep breaths,” I said.
She gripped my hand. Her pupils were dilated and she looked frightened. “Don’t go, Tom,” she whispered.
“I’m not going anywhere. Try and relax – don’t be scared. Your blood pressure has dropped to your boots. It’s okay, love,
it’s
okay.” I continued to stroke her forehead. “Are you in any pain?”
She shook her head. “No pain,” she said. She closed her eyes. Her skin was clammy. I removed her sandals. I stroked her hand. Gradually her colour returned. She shivered. I pulled the duvet over her and knelt by the bed. She reached for my hand again.
“Thank you, Tom,” she said, without opening her eyes. Then she fell asleep. I checked her pulse again. It was stronger now. I raised her hand to my mouth and brushed it with my lips. Then I stood up and drew the curtains. I left her to sleep.
I went back through to the living room and sank down on the sofa. Then I too dozed off. The next thing I knew the front door was banging shut and Rick was shouting hallo. I jumped up as Rick came into the room.
“Hi honey, I’m home,” he said. Then he saw it was me. “Oh – Tom, it’s you. Sorry I expected Rosie.”
“You don’t say,” I said.
“You’re still here then,” said Rick.
“Yes – evidently.”
“Sorry, sorry mate – I’ll try and stop stating the obvious. I just got a surprise-seeing you and not - God, I’m doing it again – sorry.” I almost felt sorry for him. He was clearly as uncomfortable as I was.
“Rosie felt a bit faint – so I put her to bed. I didn’t want to go away and leave her on her own.”
“Oh – right. Is she okay now?”
“She should be. She’s still sleeping.”
“No she’s not,” Rosie was standing in the doorway.
“Rosie, are you okay?” asked Rick.
“Come and sit down,” I said.
“I’m fine – thank you,” said Rosie. “Don’t fuss – both of you.” She smiled at the two of us.
Rick was looking at me. “Is that my shirt?”
“Ah,” said Rosie. “That’s a long story. I’ll tell you over dinner. I’m quite hungry actually.”
“Right,” said Rick, “I’ll get started on the food right away. Will you join us, Tom?”
I swallowed hard. For the second time that day I wanted to punch him.
“No, no thanks,” I managed to say. “I better get home. My mother and the others will be waiting to hear how this afternoon went.” I turned to Rosie. “Rosie – you seem better now and in good hands – so I’ll get away.” I tried not to sound sarcastic.
“Oh, okay then. Yes – give Evelyn and Max and Sam my love. And, Tom…” she came over to where I was standing. “Thank you for everything this afternoon.” She reached up and touched my face.
I put my hand on hers. “Don’t mention it,” I said.
Longings
Rosie
Chapter Thirty One
When I was first told I had breast cancer, I couldn’t really grasp it. I was in denial. Yes, at some level, I knew it was a fact. I was shocked and scared, but only up to a point. There was a barrier, a distance between me and my cancer. Robbie’s arrival, and my anger at Tom, meant that I focussed on my need to get away, rather than on the full significance of my illness.
But once I’d had the mastectomy, I had to face up to it. After days of refusing to look when the dressings were changed, I found myself saying to Wendy, my wonderful cancer-care nurse, that I was ready. I was ready to see.
“Are you sure, Rosie?” Wendy paused from preparing the dressings tray on the bedside trolley.
“Yes, if you’ll stay with me.” It was less than a fortnight since I’d first met Wendy but I already depended on her. She’d been there to meet me when I arrived for admission to the hospital. She accompanied me to the operating theatre, and she was there when I came round afterwards. She’d looked in on me most days since.
“Of course I’ll stay. If that’s what you want.”
I nodded.
Wendy gently slipped my hospital gown off my left shoulder and down my arm. Despite her gentleness, I winced at the movement.
“Sorry! I’ll just fetch us a mirror – okay?”
I nodded again.
As I prepared myself, I felt grateful for the privacy of the side room I’d had to myself since admission. Angus Campbell denied he’d pulled any strings for the wife of a fellow consultant, but I wasn’t sure I believed him.
“Here we are.” Wendy returned and handed me a small hand mirror. “Right, let’s get the dressing off.”
I looked away as she peeled back the gauze. She leant in close to examine the site of the operation. “It’s healing nicely.” She straightened up. “Ready?”
I took a deep breath and held the mirror level with my chest. I made myself look. I gasped. My left breast was completely gone, its absence marked by an angry, red wound.
Like viewing the corpse of a loved one, seeing was a sure way to believing. As the realisation of what I was seeing sank in, the shock gave way to rage
- rage
at this betrayal by my own body. I flung the mirror down. Wendy moved towards me.
“No! Please, leave me, leave me alone!” I pulled the gown up and turned my back on her. I heard the door close behind her as I gave way to the fury and fear. I’ve never felt so alone.
Over my remaining two days in hospital, I talked a lot with Wendy about how I was feeling. I ended up telling her the whole story of Tom, Heather and Robbie. “I’m sorry,” I said when I’d finished. “I didn’t mean to offload all that onto you. But you must have wondered where my family is, why they haven’t visited.”
“Don’t apologise. I’m here to listen. I did wonder about your family, and it helps me to help you if I have the full picture. I can’t offer any advice on your predicament with your husband. But I do know that your emotions would be all over the place even if you only had the cancer to concern you.”
“So you’re used to emotional wrecks?”
“Yes, indeed!” She smiled and put her hand on mine. “As for the cancer, your feelings about it are all absolutely normal. You’re grieving, Rosie. You’re grieving for your breast, your past certainty, the pre-cancer Rosie. The denial, the anger –they’re absolutely normal. It will pass. You’ll find the strength to accept what’s happened. Things aren’t going to be the same as before and you’ve got a fight on your hands.”
It was Evelyn who brought me home from hospital after the mastectomy. When we arrived back at the flat she insisted I go to bed.
“You look tired out,” she said. “Come on, I’ll help you get undressed.” She was right of course. I was exhausted and still very sore. I flinched as she gently removed my blouse. “Sorry, I know you must be feeling very tender. How’s the wound healing?”
“Oh, they say it’s doing well. The painkillers help but moving my arm is agony at the moment.”
“My poor dear.
Come on, in you get.” Evelyn held back the duvet and, once I was in bed, she made sure I was well propped up by the pillows. She perched on the edge of the bed and stroked my hair. “Did you consider having a reconstruction?”
“Yes – well that is –Angus Campbell suggested it. But I couldn’t face thinking about it or making a decision. I can have it done later, if I decide to go ahead.”
Evelyn nodded. “And you’ve seen the oncologist?”
“Yes, Amanda Knox, I liked her. She seems very capable, down to earth – a bit cagier than Angus Campbell about my – my prospects. She was honest with me, didn’t make any promises, but she did say my prognosis is fairly good, at least for remission, if not cure.”
“Oh, Rosie, my darling girl,” Evelyn held my hand in both of hers, “you’ve got a rough road ahead, but you’ve got to believe you’ll get through this.”
I nodded. “I’ll be starting my chemotherapy in about a month. It’ll be high dose and once a fortnight.”
“That’ll be tough. Will they admit you for some of the time?”
“Dr Knox suggested that. She said my immunity will be compromised. I’ll need to avoid people with colds and other bugs, and I’ll need lots of rest. But I told her I’d be living on my own, that I’d abdicated my responsibilities, abandoned the children. What must she have thought, what must everybody think?” I felt tears starting.
“Now stop it, how many times do you have to be told? You’ve not abdicated, or abandoned anyone. God, if you were a man you wouldn’t be thinking like that. Nobody thinks badly of you. You need to be away – and you’ve got lots of support in place for the family. And if you being here, rather than at home, means you don’t have to be hospitalised for most of your treatment, then all the more reason.”
“I know, but…”
“Rosie, you’ve got a lot to cope with. I told you at the outset - I think you’re doing the right thing.”
“Yes I know you did. It means a lot that you don’t think I’m being selfish. I know I’m fortunate to be able to step out of normal life for a time.”
“And it’s my fervent hope that by doing so, you’ll be able to return to it – that you’ll get well, forgive Tom…” Now it looked like Evelyn was going to cry.
I squeezed her hand. “Oh, Evelyn, I hope so too. It’s all such a mess at the moment. But your support, your approval, they’re very important to me.”
And Evelyn was a tremendous prop over the following few months. She visited regularly, often bringing her delicious, homemade soups and other light meals, designed to tempt my feeble appetite.
But Evelyn did not approve of Rick, or at least of his presence in the flat. Although she never put pressure on me regarding Tom, it was obvious by her coolness whenever she saw Rick, or if I even just referred to him, that she saw Rick as a threat.
Chapter Thirty Two
I lost my virginity to Rick Montgomery. I was nineteen, he was twenty one and I was in love for the first time. The event took place on the single bed, in my room in the hall of residence. It was a sweaty, awkward and uncomfortable experience. But Rick assured me it would get better. In fact, I think what he actually said was that
I
would get better at it and he would be my teacher.