Page 8 of A Midlife Gamble

‘Kay, are you—’

‘I’m fine,’ she interrupted.

‘Are you ok?’

‘I will be.’ And Craig, who also knew. Well, he offered the ease of confidence she’d found with Marianne, with the practical arrangements of Nick. Plus, he was impossible not to talk to. He had become her partner, if not in crime, then certainly in subterfuge. It was Craig that would be handling the domestic arrangements for her father while she was in hospital. Craig whom she had sworn to secrecy these last few weeks, as she came to terms with first the diagnosis and second the treatment necessary.

And then finally, just yesterday, she had told Caro. Who had immediately asked if Helen knew, and when Kay had answeredNo,had understood what wasn’t being said.I’ll tell her,she’d said and Kay had nodded.

Thinking all this, she tipped her head back and looked at the ceiling. It didn’t matter. It could have been either of them. What mattered was that they would have to be in the same room, they would have to talk.

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1 If you’d like to read more about Lisa, The Purple Irises and life at Ashdown House,you can do so by clicking here to order True Book Two ofThe Gen X Series

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THE NEXT DAY

Flat on her back in bed, encased in white cotton, Kay stared at the ceiling, at the lattice of sunlight that rippled across, accompanied by a stream of bubbling voices that sounded so very much like children’s chatter and that seemed to come from the window? Or further? Turning her head, she squinted as she struggled to make sense of what she was looking at. It was a park. Well, a sad square of grass, lined with a perimeter of ash trees that had been stripped bare by winter. A view that should have been a unilaterally bleak one, but wasn’t because something very bright and very lively was flashing. Winking silver at her, from across the grass. In her mind, she attempted to sit up, but whether she achieved any actual movement, she didn’t know, because a deeply embedded stiffness began throbbing from her left shoulder, spreading across her chest and all thoughts of changing position fell away. If she stayed just as she was, she was, she decided, just about comfortable… and actually very sleepy… and that winking light might be a star. Her lids, heavy as water, began to close, but in the humming silence of the white room, the voices remained. With great effort, she peeled her eyes open again and this time she saw them. A crocodile of children, winding a path across the grass, every one of them wearing a yellow safety vest, with winking, silver stripes. The corners of Kay’s mouth turned up to a lazy, dozy smile. All that flashing was making her think of the sequinned jacket she’d seen one of The Purple Irises wearing many years ago. Or even yesterday. She couldn’t decide. And then she was thinking of her own silver jacket, hanging in her wardrobe, and then she was twenty-four, with a waist… Trying on that jacket in the changing room of Topshop, turning around, as a thousand sequinned eyes winked at her,Kay’s going to Vegas… And then she was asleep.

The next timeshe opened her eyes, the ceiling was a dull-eyed grey. The park was empty and the children, with their flashing vests, had gone.Why didn’t you wait for me?she whispered.I have one too. A silver jacket.A tear leaked from her eye. If they had just waited, she would have put her jacket on and followed them. What had happened? Where was the sun? A rising tide of soreness lapped at the edge of her consciousness. With effort she twisted her neck and looked down at her left arm. A small clear tube seemed to run down the length of it, connecting to a bulb-shaped container half filled with pink liquid, like strawberry juice. She stared at it, from the liquid to the tube and back again, unable to join the dots that would have spelt traumatic wound, fluid collection, drain. All down her arm, across her shoulder, her chest and along the top of her back a lumpen stiffness had dug in. She thought about shifting her weight, but knew she wouldn’t be able to. From outside came the high-pitched yell of a child. They’re back, she thought, and the relief closed her eyes. The children were back.

The next timeshe opened her eyes, the room was bathed in warm yellow and the park had vanished completely, the window view now was that of a room, with white walls and a bed with white sheets. She strained to raise her chin. Oh there she was! She was in that reflected bed! And there was a table at the end of it. How odd. She turned and the scene became even odder. On the table was a vase of chrysanthemums. Kay frowned, made a mental note to sit up, attempted to do so and as she did a wave of pain roared along her arm, twisting her into submission.

‘Don’t try and move.’

There was a hand on her arm and a figure looming above the bed.

She looked up. ‘Caro?’

Caro nodded. ‘How are you feeling?’

Again Kay thrust her chin forward, as if she was trying to sit.

‘No… don’t try and move by yourself.’

Her head fell back on the pillow. It was all too odd. Caro’s lips hadn’t moved, and her voice seemed to be coming from the other side of the bed.

‘You mustn’t try and move,’ the disembodied voice said again and with titanic effort, Kay strained to look the other way. And there was Helen! It was Helen who had spoken. Helen on the other side of the bed.

‘The nurse said we were to help. That you shouldn’t move yourself.’ Helen smiled.

‘Ok.’ Her voice was a whisper and her lips were dry as sandpaper. Helen on one side, Caro on the other. I’m dead, Kay thought; it was, she considered, the only explanation for the fact that they were both in the same room. She closed her eyes and began to wonder, about the wonder of it all. How calm being dead was! How much like being alive, in that you could close and open your eyes. How much space to think through what had happened! The operation would have gone wrong, of course. That would have been what happened. She was probably still on the operating table. How nice of them then, to let Caro and Helen in to say goodbye. A tear leaked from her eye and slid down her cheek into her ear. She’d only got enough dinner in for Alex for the next three days. An overnight stay, the surgeon had said, so erring on the safe side she’d shopped for three nights. She hadn’t erred on the dead side. Another tear leaked, very cold, and again it was amazing to Kay how much space there was to wonder at the visceral reality of death. She had time for one more thought. They’d better not be arguing, Helen and Caro. They’d better not be standing there bickering over her dead body… If they were, she’d float above them and bang their heads together and…

‘Kay.’

Kay peeled her eyes open. There was Caro and there, still, was Helen. She was weighted as an anchor and lighter than a feather. She was not whole. Her consciousness spilled over the edge of her skin like water overflowing a bottle, like candles in the wind. Those lovely ship’s candles, forged in metal cradles, designed to sway with the tide but never go out. Candles on a tide, orin a wind.Like Elton John and Princess Diana who was so young and… and… An explosion of sobs escaped her, the most frighteningly guttural sound she thought she’d ever heard. It sounded like a bear! Had it actually come from her? Then, as if she’d been punched, her chin dropped and her chest heaved as she gasped for air and sobbed with a life force that was as reassuring as it was uncontrollable. She wasn’t dead! She knew this now. But she was in hospital. And she was in hospital because she had cancer. Cancer that had spread, that they were trying to cut out. ‘Ouch.’Another wave of pain shot across her shoulder.

‘Are you in pain?’

The question came from her right-hand side. Caro.

‘Sore,’ she managed.

Helen was on her feet, moving towards the door. ‘I’ll get the nurse, to keep on top of the pain.’

And within a space of time that Kay couldn’t have attempted to estimate, a nurse had been in, administered a shot of morphine and left again. And sure enough, the pain began to retreat as quietly as a wounded animal. In its place a tremendous feeling of wellbeing flooded her veins, filling every cell, imbuing her soul with bliss. Yes, bliss! She looked from Helen to Caro, and Caro to Helen, a huge lop-sided smile on her face. ‘My friends,’ she beamed, ‘my beautiful friends. How young you both look… Oh, I’m thirsty. I’ve never been so thirsty.’

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