prone to making quick decisions; Kate was far more measured and in control of her emotions, even at the age of eight. Juliet sometimes wondered if Kate’s dyslexia had influenced her personality. Had she learned to take her time with her responses to ensure she made fewer mistakes or was she simply less volatile than her mother?
Edward and Kate were as different as chalk and cheese, both in looks and behaviour. Edward had inherited his father’s looks and much of his personality. They were both adrenalin junkies, both attracted to danger. She was constantly on the lookout around Edward because he was still too young to assess risk. Sam liked order and routine, he liked to follow the rules and would never make a rash judgement. Juliet hoped Ed would develop some of his father’s sense as he matured but she was worried because she suspected Sam might have always had that slightly sensible gene and that healthy regard for the rules may have been reinforced by his defence force upbringing. Sam’s love of order and routine had certainly helped him to cope with the frequent moves that he’d been exposed to as a defence force brat. From what he ate for breakfast and how he read the paper to the system in his wardrobe and in his bookshelves, Sam was a creature of habit. Even the kids’ bedtime routine had been started by Sam. And now Juliet had taken away some of that.
She followed Sam’s lead, kissing the children goodnight as an unwelcome thought burrowed its way into her head—other than their children, they hadn’t made much of a success of their life together.
CHAPTER THREE
August 2008
JULIET was rushing around the house, trying to get several last-minute jobs out of the way before fetching Edward from kindergarten, when she was interrupted by a knock at the door. A postman waited with a letter, registered mail. She showed the postman her driver’s licence as identification and signed for the envelope with a shaky hand. She knew what the envelope contained? it could only be one thing. It had been a month and a day since she and Sam had been in court.
This was it. Her self-imposed D-Day.
She’d been delaying a whole host of things, things she couldn’t put off any longer. She hadn’t set a date exactly but she’d decided that once the divorce was final and she had the paperwork that said so, she would have to face facts.
She took the envelope to the kitchen and slit it open with a knife.
It had been a month and a day since she’d seen Sam, one month and a day since they’d been in court. Her divorce was absolute. It was there in black and white in front of her. She was now officially a divorcee.
Before she could procrastinate again or let herself be distracted by the children, she did the two things she’d been avoiding. She slid her wedding and engagement rings off her finger and slipped them onto her right hand. It was a slightly tighter fit but she wasn’t ready to be without them totally, though she also had no cause to still be wearing them on her left hand. The rings felt heavy on her right hand and her thumb automatically fiddled with the bands. She supposed she’d get used to the sensation.
One more task to do. She picked up the phone but hesitated before dialling. She put it onto the kitchen bench while she deliberated. What if she didn’t need to make this phone call after all? She palpated her left breast with her fingers, hoping, once again, that maybe the lump had disappeared. But it was still there, about the size of a small walnut. She retrieved the phone and made a long-overdue appointment with her doctor.
‘Good morning, Juliet,’ Dr Wilson said as she called her into the consulting room. ‘What can I do for you today?’
‘I’ve found another breast lump,’ Juliet said as she sat down. She had a history of benign nodules and she’d had various tests done in the past but thankfully they’d all come back negative for any malignancy.
‘When did you notice this one?’
‘A few months ago,’ she answered honestly.
‘Any changes in this one?’
‘I think it’s got bigger.’
Dr Wilson looked at her with one eyebrow raised. ‘Any reason why you haven’t been in to see me sooner?’
Juliet knew that the change in the size of the lump should have sounded warning bells. It had, she just hadn’t had the time or energy to deal with it. Part of her had also tried to pretend that this lump was just like all the others and they’d been fine, hadn’t they? But she knew that this lump wasn’t the same—it had kept on growing.
‘Sam and I got divorced. I had a lot on my plate.’
‘I’m sorry to hear about the divorce?that must have been tough.’ Dr Wilson paused before adding, ‘Do you want my lecture on how important it is not to neglect your health now or should I save it for later?’
Juliet shook her head. ‘Save it. I know I owe it to my children to look after myself, that’s why I’m here.’
‘Fair enough. Let’s have a look at this lump, then, shall we?’
Juliet undressed and was poked and prodded for the first of what would become many times over the course of the next few days. The lump was tender but no worse than the others had been.
‘How big was it when you first noticed it?’ Dr Wilson asked.
‘About the size of a pea,’ Juliet recalled.
‘Just under a centimetre, then. It’s now between three and four. When did you notice that it had got bigger?’
‘Probably five or six weeks ago,’ Juliet estimated. It had been around the time she and Sam had gone to court, which was one reason she’d ignored it. It hadn’t reached the top of her list of priorities yet.
‘I think we need to check this out further. You can get dressed and then I’ll take some blood, and I’m also going to send you off for a mammogram. You haven’t had one before, have you?’
‘No, only ultrasounds.’
‘It can be a bit difficult to get a clear picture with a mammogram in the under forty-five age group because your breast tissue is still quite dense, but I want to do that so we can get a look at the size and shape of the lump and a clear idea of its position. I’m going to refer you for a biopsy as well but those results will take a little longer to get back.’
Juliet was dressed now and sat in the chair beside Dr. Wilson’s desk, extending her left arm, ready for blood to be drawn. The needle stung as it entered her arm and she watched the dark red blood fill up the vial, wondering what sort of nasty things her blood was harbouring.
‘I want you to have the mammogram this afternoon, and I’ll make some calls and see if I can get you in for the biopsy tomorrow,’ Dr Wilson said as she capped and labelled Juliet’s blood. ‘Is there someone who can help you with the children if the appointment times clash with school pick-ups? It might make it easier to get appointments for you if you can be flexible.’
Juliet nodded silently. She didn’t have a clue who to call but she was sure she’d think of someone once her brain had time to process all the other stuff Dr Wilson was talking about. Mammograms, biopsies, blood tests. She hadn’t actually said the word yet but Juliet knew what she was thinking. Cancer.
Juliet was struggling to get past that word. The word was stuck in her head, making it very difficult to concentrate on everything else Dr Wilson was telling her. The word was also stuck in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. Perhaps she’d feel better if that word was out in the open.
‘You think I have cancer?’
Saying it out loud didn’t improve matters much. She was breathing now but the tightness in her chest had been replaced by nausea.
Dr Wilson’s reply didn’t ease her fears. ‘I think this lump is different from the fibroadenomas you already have. It’s presenting more like a tumour because it’s growing rapidly and I don’t like that. I think we need