Page 6 of A Found Family at the Cornish Country Hospital

‘None of us go into this for a quiet life, do we?’ Joe gave her a wry smile, and she nodded.

‘We certainly don’t. Sarah’s carcinophobia definitely feels like it’s escalating. She was ranting at one point about how unfair it was that she’d ended up with cancer of the eye, when she’d made sure to find glasses that didn’t contain any plastic. She seems paranoid that everything is capable of causing cancer. She said she stopped using any sort of deodorant, shampoo or washing powder last year. And I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t think she’s found an alternative that works.’

‘No, she hasn’t.’ Joe sighed. ‘Looking at her history this has been going on for well over fifteen years, and her behaviour was already making her isolate herself, but even if she goes along to one of the support groups I recommended to her, I think the hygiene issues are going to make it hard for her to develop any relationships.’

‘It’s really sad.’ It was obvious how lonely Sarah was and, from the way she spoke about her late mother, it was also clear that she was still grieving. She’d talked about how her mum hadtold her to go out and live her life before it was too late, but she’d been left with no one once her mother had gone. Sarah had cried when she’d recounted that story, and how true it had turned out to be. Her mum seemed to have been everything to her, and it was no surprise that her existing hypochondria had spiralled into something that was now affecting her ability to live a normal life. Thank God for people like Joe, who she was certain wouldn’t give up on Sarah. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to persuade her to try some medication this time around?’

‘I hope so. I’ve promised to go through the side effects of all the medications with her, talking through any risks. I’m also hoping she might be willing to try EMDR.’

‘I don’t think I’ve come across that?’ One of the things Isla liked best about working in A&E was that, once they’d dealt with the initial emergency, they directed their patients to treatment with other specialists, which allowed her to get some insight into the work of so many other departments.

‘It’s a kind of therapy that involves the patient moving their eyes in a way that helps their brain to process traumatic experiences. I think it could help Sarah to work through her feelings around her mother’s death, and some of the other issues that have contributed to the decline in her mental health.’

‘That sounds fascinating and, from what Sarah has told me, her mother’s diagnosis came much later than it should have done, which made an awful situation even more traumatic.’ Isla knew firsthand how losing a parent could change someone. Witnessing the progress of her father’s disease had changed her in so many ways – some obvious, others less so. It was the reason she’d become a nurse, because she’d wanted to give back. And it was the same reason she’d decided to become an egg donor. But there were other things she deliberately kept to herself, because of what she’d been through. Like however worried she was about something, she’d never share that fearwith her mother. Her mum had been through more than enough for anyone, and Isla had become her protector when she’d still been at secondary school. She’d never told her about the bully who’d stolen her trainers or taunted her on the bus. She’d put on a brave face when she wasn’t sure she was going to get a place on her chosen degree course, and she’d never admitted how much she wished her mum had stayed in Cornwall, instead of moving back to Florida. She wasn’t a martyr, but there was no way of knowing for sure whether she’d have been as careful around her mother if she hadn’t watched Clare go to hell and back, losing her husband in the way she had. It was what made it so easy for her to understand why Sarah had been as affected as she had been by her mother’s death.

‘The good news is she’s agreed to be a voluntary in-patient for a couple of days, and even better news is that we’ve got a bed available immediately, which is pretty rare these days. So there’ll be a chance to talk to her about all of her options, and I hope this time she might be willing to try something new.’

‘Me too.’ Isla could have chatted to Joe all day about his work, but waiting time in A&E was already at over two hours for non-urgent cases. ‘Thanks again for coming down so quickly.’

‘I would say any time.’ Joe gave another wry smile. ‘But we both know it’s impossible to make that kind of promise, and I make it a rule never to say I’ll do something unless I’m sure I can keep my word.’

‘That’s a good rule, and I think it’s one everyone should try and stick to.’ Isla might have been talking to Joe, but she was thinking about Aidan when she said the words. She’d made him a promise, and it wasn’t one she was prepared to go back on. As long as he could promise her one thing in return.

4

The Cookie Jar café in Port Agnes had always been one of Aidan’s favourite places to go for lunch. There was a deli counter, a small bakery section, and they also bought in a wider range of cakes and pastries from Mehenick’s Bakery, on the harbour. It was a good job he lived in Port Kara, about five minutes from the hospital, because if it had been possible to walk to either The Cookie Jar, or Mehenick’s Bakery, on a daily basis, the chances are he’d have been at least three stone heavier. It was all well and good promising Jase he’d lose the weight he still needed to shift, in order to get back down to the twelve and a half stone he’d been when they met, but he was only human and a salted caramel brownie was not something he was equipped to resist on the best of days. As it was, he was stress eating, because it was the last meeting of the infertility support group before he and Jase had their interview at the clinic.

The group met after The Cookie Jar had closed to other customers, and this week there were so many questions Aidan wanted to ask, but he was terrified he was going to forget something. Jase was running late from work and there was a chance he might not make it at all, so it was up to Aidan to gatherall of the information they needed to give them the best chance of success. It wasn’t just the interview on his mind either. When Isla had first offered to donate her eggs, he’d felt as though someone had offered him the moon on a stick. But then doubts had started to creep in.

Knowing the donor personally could make things complicated down the line, especially if they wanted to maintain their friendship and continue working together. Isla might have strong ideas about how he and Jase should do things, and the thought of being part of some kind of throuple when it came to parenting sounded like hell. There was also a risk that the clinic they’d chosen wouldn’t support the idea, and it had taken them so long to find somewhere they felt comfortable with. All of which meant Aidan hadn’t even told Jase about Isla’s offer, and he’d been doing his best to avoid her at work for the last couple of days. He felt like the worst person in the world for even thinking about turning her down when she’d been so kind, and especially when she’d told him why she wanted to do it, but he still had no idea if saying yes was the right thing to do. Or how Jase would react to the fact that he’d all but accepted the offer without even talking to his husband about it.

‘Are you okay? You look like you’re training for a competitive eating competition the way you’re shovelling that in!’ Caitlin, one of the other members of the group, looked at him and laughed. ‘My three-year-old is like that if he gets his hands on a brownie.’

‘I think this is what they call mindless eating.’ Cakes were without question Aidan’s favourite food group, even if none of the dieticians were willing to give them their own slot on the nutrition wheel. But he’d barely even tasted the one he’d just demolished. ‘I don’t even think I’d notice if Harry Styles had served the brownie up to me, wearing nothing but a smile.’

‘I would have noticed him for you, trust me. So come on then, what’s up?’ Caitlin gave him a gentle nudge. She’d had her little boy through IVF and had already had three more rounds trying for a second baby. The kinds of stories that were exchanged at the infertility support group left no room for shyness, and she clearly wasn’t going to let him off the hook about what was bothering him.

‘We’ve got the interview with the surrogacy clinic in four days’ time and it’s all I can think about. There’s no plan B if they turn us down.’ He couldn’t risk telling Caitlin about Isla’s offer, because it would be very hard to explain why she couldn’t breathe a word of it to his husband. One thing he knew for certain was that he was never going to have an affair. Keeping secrets wasn’t his strong point; it was just a shame that stress didn’t burn calories, otherwise he’d have been able to eat as many brownies as he liked and still have had a body like a Greek god. At this rate, all the comfort eating was more likely to result in him ending up looking pregnant, and that was the kind of irony he could definitely live without.

‘They’re not going to turn you down; you and Jase are great.’ Just like Esther had, Caitlin made it sound like a certainty and he wished he could believe that, but he’d done enough research to know that something could disrupt their chances of becoming parents at every stage of the process.

‘I mean, you know that, and I know that.’ Aidan smiled for the first time, when she laughed. ‘But even if we manage to convince the clinic of that too, they’ve still got to find us a match. Who’s going to put down on their preferences that they want to help a middle-aged gay couple, one of whom has a ridiculous phobia of balloons, which is going to make celebrating our kid’s birthday an exercise in hysteria. And another of whom still can’t ride a bike, or catch a ball, and will have to hope that any offspring prefers Irish dancing to sport.’

‘I didn’t know you could do Irish dancing.’ Caitlin looked him up and down, her eyes settling at more or less the same spot as the brownie had.

‘I’m not a stereotype!’ Aidan feigned indignation, trying not to laugh. ‘Jase is the one who did Irish dancing from the age of eight; I swear to God he was only interested in me at first because of my heritage, thinking I might share the same passion. And I’ll have you know I’ve been riding a bike without stabilisers since I was twelve.’

‘Twelve?’ Caitlin shook her head, both of them laughing again and it felt so good to be able to do it. The desire to have a baby had fast become all-consuming, but Aidan hated the thought of it robbing him and Jase of their sense of humour. Laughter had been what had bonded them together from the start.

They’d both had their challenges in life. Jase had been bullied at school, when the need to lip read had marked him out from everyone else. He’d told Aidan that one of the reasons he’d loved Irish dancing so much, was because he’d been able to feel the rhythm pulsing through his body. But it was hardly the sort of hobby that had helped him blend in with most of the boys at his school, and the bullying had been pretty much relentless. Jase had refused his parents’ offer to take him out of mainstream education, and he’d thrived academically, despite the challenges he faced and the impact of the bullying. It wasn’t until much later that he’d been given a life-changing cochlear implant. He still used lip reading to help him in busy environments, or when lots of people were talking, but he was now head of the best primary school in the area. He was a brilliant and empathetic teacher, with a particular patience for supporting children who had SEND challenges of their own. What he’d been through had made him the man he was, butAidan still felt as though his blood was boiling in his veins when he pictured the bullies who’d taunted Jase as a child.

Aidan’s own challenges had been closer to home. Growing up in a household where heterosexuality and old-fashioned masculinity were the only things that defined a man, meant he’d felt like a square peg in a round hole for as long as he could remember. For a long time, he’d been in denial, before eventually finding the courage to be proud of the person he truly was inside. Except all the things that made Aidan who he was, had been seen by the people who should have loved him most as something to overcome, or to hide away, like the shameful little secrets he’d been told they were. There’d been times, before they met, when there hadn’t been much laughter for either Aidan or Jase, and he never wanted to go back to that. If he had a habit of making a joke of things, that was just his way of trying to make sure they never did.

‘It might not be the age that Olympic cyclists make it on to two wheels, but Jase would still need a trike even now!’

‘Okay, so that probably isn’t the most impressive list of attributes.’ Caitlin gave him a pointed look, suddenly much more serious than before. ‘But surely you don’t really have to put any of that on the forms?’

‘No, but if we get matched with someone, we’ll meet up, and it’s going to be like a blind date and I’m liable to blurt out all the worst things possible. The last time I had a date like that, I was so nervous, I kept laughing for no real reason. At one point I laughed so hard I started choking on my food, and a pea shot out of my nose and landed on my date’s shirt cuff.’

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