I never realised how much I’ve taken that for granted. She’s always been the one looking after me, and there’s an unconscious security knowing that I’m the one who can get into scrapes and messes, and be frightened and upset, and despite everything she’s always there to pick me up, dust me off and sort things out. Even if it is with a frown and an impatient sigh.
I suddenly realise how much I’ve resented her for that. For her life seeming perfect and always in control. Things never go wrong for Kate. Everything has always gone right. She’s never failed at anything and always got what she wanted, be it the good hair or the exam grades. I feel like such a mess next to her. Her life seemed so sorted. Her emotions were in check. I don’t think she’s ever even been heartbroken. She met Jeff, they got married, and they have lived happily ever after. It’s all seemed so easy for Kate.
Now I realise it’s not easy; it’s never been easy. She’s just felt she had to be strong, to be there for me, and for all my life she has been. Now, though, it’s my turn to be strong for her. I have to be there for her.
Putting my arm round Kate, I give her a hug, and for the first time she doesn’t stiffen and pull away.
And I’m going to be.
For a few moments we remain like that, in the late afternoon sunshine, not saying anything, before finally going back inside to wait. After a while Dr Coleman comes to tell us that Jeff’s out of surgery, the operation was straightforward, and they’re going to keep him in overnight because of the effects of the anaesthetic.
‘In the meantime I suggest you go home and get some rest, young lady,’ he says to Kate, with a firm nod of his head. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
He turns as if to leave, but she stops him. ‘When will we know if you got it all?’
õnt>=“0”> C
‘We should get the results back from pathology in the next couple of days.’
‘So you’ll be able to determine the type and stage of cancer?’
He seems momentarily taken aback by her forthrightness, but this is the trained medic coming out in Kate, not the frightened wife.
‘Yes.’ He nods. ‘And what further treatment, if any, will be needed.’
‘Do you think he’s going to be OK?’
But the frightened wife is here. Underneath her files and her candidness, she’s right here and her hope is almost palpable.
Unknown
Dr Coleman pauses. He must have been asked that question a...
I offer to go home with Kate and this time she doesn’t argue or protest, just mutely nods her head and lets me take control as I find us a cab and give directions. Once inside the apartment I run her a hot bath, make her a cup of tea, then change it for something a lot stronger. Whose stupid idea was it to make tea at times like this anyway?
Wordlessly she does as she’s told. The old capable Kate would have made some comment about the teabags I accidentally leave in the sink, or the choice of towel I find for her in the airing cupboard, or the dirt from my shoes, which I forget to take off and trample across her rug.
The old Kate has been replaced by a girl with a helpless expression, who with clean, damp hair and pyjamas looks about ten years old, and who sits dutifully on the sofa nursing her whisky.
After a while she looks up. ‘I think I’ll go to bed now, Luce. I’m pretty tired.’
I nod. ‘I’ll come too.’
‘Oh, no, you don’t have to. I’ll be fine on my own . . .’ she replies automatically, then trails off, as if realising that actually, no, she’s not all right.
‘It’ll be like when we were little,’ I cajole. ‘Remember how we used to share a bed sometimes?’
‘So we could share secrets under the eiderdown with a torch.’ She smiles.
‘You used to kick me out in the middle of the night.’ I grin. ‘I used to have to creep back into my own bed and it was freezing.’
‘God, I was a horrible big sister, wasn’t I?’
d ton=“ont f C”>dShe turns to me sheepishly and I laugh. ‘Trust me, I was a pretty annoying little sister.’
We go into her and Jeff’s bedroom. It’s the polar opposite of mine. Uncluttered and painted a soft beige, it’s all perfect linens and plumped-up pillows.
‘All we need now is