Charlotte thought of her adoptive mum dragging her hand away. Not wanting physical contact with her just because she’d asked a question. She shuddered. ‘That I had other things I should be focusing on.’
Ben shrugged. ‘She could be right. You do have a lot on at the moment.’
‘The lump… yes, but maybe searching for her might take my mind off things.’
He frowned. ‘I was thinking about the wedding, actually. But yes, the lump too.’
‘Oh God, I’m sorry. Yes. Yes.’ How could she tell him that her interest in flowers and cake and wedding dresses had diminished to almost zero? The only thing she could see on the horizon was a black shadow zapping all the fun and anticipation. She needed to focus on positives. ‘Yes. There’s still a lot to get done.’
‘Yip. So listen, it’s all overwhelming and you’re probably all over the place. You are allowed to freak out a bit, but now we’re going to rise up and fight… okay? Together. We’re a team, Charlie.’ He tugged on her hand, wrapped his fingers into hers and made a tight fist. His smile showed her he only wanted to help, to smooth her journey. ‘We’ve got this.’
‘We most certainly have.’ She squeezed her fingers in his too. He was right; they were a team. A bloody formidable one at that. And the countdown was on. Whatever else happened in their lives, they had less than two months before they made that ultimate commitment to each other, and there was still a lot of work to be done and decisions to be made. So she needed to somehow rediscover her interest in wedding bouquets and silk and lace and push everything else to the back burner. She owed him that, owed them both. One little lump wasn’t going to derail their plans. Not at all. Their love was stronger than that. Hell… she was stronger than that. ‘Eek! We’ve got a whole wedding to organise and I’ve dropped the ball a bit, to be honest. No problem. We’re on this.’
He tipped her chin to look into her eyes. ‘Too right. If you need any help, ask me. Okay?’
‘Okay.’
‘Now, baby, have some cake. Please.’ With his free hand Ben picked up her fork and fed her the double-chocolate, which was so divine she pretended to swoon. Then he gave her some of the red velvet and smiled – the tension drifting away, leaving just them and their promises and this minute, and this one… And she smiled too and fed him some carrot cake. He pigged his eyes and copied her swooning and they were back to situation normal.
Thank you. Thank you, Ben. Thank you for making me laugh, she said silently, leaning into him and hoping some of his strength would leach into her. Remembering, too, to be grateful for the small things, which were often the most important. Being silly. Laughter. Moments of love.
While they lasted.
It was amazing how quickly things moved when you had money. No matter how much Charlotte had refused, her mother had pushed for a quick appointment, so here they were, the very next afternoon, pushing open the heavy wooden door with the golden plaque bearing the name West London Breast Clinic.
The place looked like a hotel, not a private hospital. With blonde stone and marble floors it oozed grandeur and wealth. It was everything the NHS GP surgery wasn’t: plush, spacious, tidy. In any other situation Charlotte might even have been excited about going into such a place. ‘Wow. Very glam. If only I wasn’t feeling quite so nervous. All the gilt and marble is a bit intimidating.’
‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’ Ben squeezed her shoulder, but the tremble in his hand gave him away. ‘Look at the sculptures and the artwork. Now you know where half the consultation fee is going.’
There were huge, comfortable chairs in the waiting room and in each of them sat women a lot older than Charlotte. All of them looked glum. Anxious. Which made Charlotte’s worry quota escalate a hundredfold.
‘Miss Evans?’ A lady with a smart chic French knot smiled across the reception desk, her voice rich and welcoming… and the loaded seriousness of her words made Charlotte’s heart race. ‘Dr Carter is waiting for you. Room two. Down the corridor, third on the left.’
‘Okay.’ She gripped Ben’s hand, sounding a lot more confident then she felt. ‘Let’s do this.’
A short consult. A wait. A mammogram. A wait. An ultrasound. A wait. And now a something-something biopsy. There was a lump. Yes. Yes. They had to see what was in it.
She was lying on an examination couch with Ben seated next to her. To her right was a huge ultrasound machine that beeped and whirred and clicked and made the room too hot.
‘We’ll do a fine needle aspiration…’ The room phone rang. Dr Carter peered at them over his half-rimmed glasses and frowned. He wore a tartan bow tie and a charcoal three-piece suit; very old-school with his speech and mannerisms and clothes. Charlotte hoped he was very new school with therapies and treatments and diagnostics. ‘Excuse me,’ he said to them, pointing to the phone and picking it up. ‘Yes. Yes. I see.’
When he finished he put the receiver down. ‘Excuse me again, Miss… er…. Evans. A query. Outside. Not about you.’
Then he left the room leaving Charlotte and Ben wordless. Being here and seeing the blurry pictures on the screens made everything feel so much worse. She’d always imagined the first ultrasound she’d have would be about a baby growing inside her. Not this.
‘I feel like I’m staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.’ Charlotte finally managed to get words out through a tight throat, keeping her voice low because everything was hushed here. ‘It’s like I’m in a dream. Or it’s happening to someone else and I’m watching.’
Ben gave her a half-smile that tried but failed to reach his tired eyes. ‘I am watching and it’s no better this end, believe me.’
Trying to break the tension she laughed a little, although it sounded forced, even to her. ‘To be honest, I’ve never had so many people touch my boobs, and definitely not all in one day.’
‘Serves you right for flashing them to anyone who asks.’ He winked and tugged her gaping gown across to cover her left breast. ‘Hussy.’
‘Well, I’ve been asked a lot today. A lot of people seem to want to look.’ She paused. Wondered whether to say what she was feeling. Decided, what the hell. ‘I’m scared, Ben.’
That was the truth of it. She felt utterly out of control. Utterly at the mercy of the stars, or fate. In a strange limbo land that had stripped her of the ability to enjoy anything, no matter how much she tried. That had made her see herself in a new light. As something mortal, fragile, vulnerable, and she didn’t like it one bit.
It was, as she’d felt so many times when hanging out to see whether she’d landed a role in a show or the corps or a solo, the waiting that was the worst part.
‘I know, me too. Shit scared with custard on top.’ Ben gave her another half-hearted smile. That was a huge admission. Something she’d never heard him admit even when he’d been posted to the riots a few years ago. Or when he’d been caught up in a stabbing and nearly got hurt himself. Even when his father got sick and it had been touch and go whether he was going to pull through.
That made her feel doubly worse. ‘He’s a bit grumpy, though, isn’t he? Dr Carter. Very serious and pompous. I think I’m more scared of him than I am of the needle aspiration thingy.’
‘Imagine him naked or something, that’ll make you feel better.’
‘Ugh. He’s ancient. Like, over seventy or something.’ That would definitely not make her feel better.
‘I meant, he’s just normal like you and me. He’s nothing to be scared of.’ Ben leaned across the space between them and ran his fingers down her cheek. His mouth close to her ear. ‘You’re going to be fine.