Buried (DC Jack Warr #1) - Lynda La Plante Page 0,16
four hours until she finished her shift and then taken her for a drink . . . Three hours later, they knew everything there was to know about each other. Jack wasn’t Maggie’s first love, but she was his.
Of course, he thought he’d been in love before, but he hadn’t really – he’d been in lust. Love was calm, lust was frantic. Frantic because Jack never knew exactly how long it would last, so he had to make the most of it while he could. But with Maggie, he knew immediately that he had all the time in the world. She was going nowhere.
*
Jack stared at the bungalow he’d grown up in. Every light was on. Every light was always on. He smiled and shook his head. He watched Penny fussing in the lounge through always-open curtains, then in his old bedroom – she was fluffing his pillows, probably for the twentieth time. He was sure she was checking she’d put every toiletry under the sun in his en suite, just in case he’d forgotten anything ‒ which would be handy on this occasion because, in his rush to get here, he’d forgotten pretty much everything.
From the second Penny opened the front door, she never once stopped talking.
‘Tea, darling . . .? Oh, the trains are a nuisance, aren’t they . . .? How’s Maggie . . .? Georgina’s got herself a puppy, can you believe it . . .? There’s a chicken in the oven, but the veg isn’t on yet . . . Would you like a whisky to tide you over?’
Charlie smiled at Jack and rolled his eyes, gently mocking his hyperactive wife.
Father and son hugged. Charlie held on for a moment longer than usual and, in that instant, Jack knew something was very wrong. When Charlie pulled away, the tears were welling – then he sniffed, shook his head and squeezed Jack’s shoulders. In the background, Penny fussed between the sink, the oven and the drinks cabinet ‒ oblivious to the fact that the dreadful news she was so frantically avoiding had just been silently shared.
When she finally turned around, holding two glasses of whisky and ice, Charlie and Jack were hugging again, and Jack was crying.
*
Penny carved the chicken as Jack and Charlie sat across the table from each other. Jack was frowning as he tried to get his head around everything.
‘OK, so who’s said it’ll be no more than a few months from now?’
‘Dr Chakrabarti, his name is.’
This was Penny’s domain, as Charlie had never been any good with details.
‘And what treatment has he suggested?’
Jack picked up his mobile and googled Dr Chakrabarti.
‘We’ve done it all, darling. Your dad was told just before Christmas and—’
‘Christmas? You were with us in London at Christmas!’
‘Are you listening or shouting, darling?’
Jack fell silent. His mum faced away from him and started to tear the remains of the chicken to pieces with her hands. He knew she wasn’t being rude, she was just terrified of breaking down before she’d said everything she needed to.
‘Your dad was told just before Christmas, and in the new year he went straight into his first round of chemotherapy, which didn’t agree with him at all, did it, my love?’ Charlie shook his head. ‘So, we tried a second type, which didn’t have as many side effects, but didn’t really do much good—’
‘I can’t find Chakrabarti,’ Jack interrupted. ‘Does he work at Derriford?’
‘Yes. The best in the West Country, he is. C - H - A - K . . .’
‘Found him.’ Jack read background on Chakrabarti at the same time as finding out everything that had happened while his bloody back was turned. ‘But there must be something else you can try. Isn’t there? I mean, even if there’s nothing right at this moment, new cures come along all the time.’
Now, Charlie spoke for the first time.
‘The word “cure” was never used, son. Not from the very beginning. It was always only ever about giving me as much time as possible. And they’ve done that. We are where we are.’
The pain in Jack’s chest built as he squeezed the words out from between his pursed lips and the tears welled again.
‘A few fucking months!’
Penny let the swear word go on this occasion.
‘Yep,’ Charlie said. ‘So, me and your mum are going on holiday. If that’s all right with you.’
‘For how long?’ Jack asked. ‘Do you need money? Where are you going?’
Charlie beamed as if he didn’t have a care left in the world.
‘Everywhere. We’ve cashed in the pensions and the bungalow’s on the market.’