Will It Be Fine?

I have just finished packing my bag when Jenny enters the room and sits on the edge of her mother’s bed. A little sunshine is leaking though a complex sky outside, catching flecks of floating dust in its rays.

“You’ve moved everything around,” she says, apparently noticing this for the first time.

“Yeah, as much as possible, I did.”

Jenny nods thoughtfully. “It’s better,” she says.

“Well, at least you can lie in bed and look at the stars now.”

“No curtains,” she says.

“They’re drying. On the line.”

“Right. Look. Have I upset you?” she asks. “Because, you know, I’m all over the place at the moment and I didn’t mean to …”

I shrug and sit down beside her. I sigh deeply. “It’s just … I thought I was helping. But I’m just on the outside really, aren’t I? Because of everything that’s happened. Which is fine. But you have Tom, and I think I should move on.”

“You have been a help,” Jenny says. “You’ve been brilliant.”

“Thanks.”

“And Sarah’s loved you being around.”

“Yes. I’ve liked seeing her too. She’s a great kid.”

“Where are you going now? To France, or back to Colombia?”

“I thought I’d head to the south coast for a few days. Have a look at Eastbourne. Maybe Brighton too, for old times’ sake. But don’t tell Tom.”

“No.”

“And then on to Nice. Ricardo wants me to look in on his flat.”

“God, does he still have that?”

“Yeah.”

“The same one? Overlooking the port?”

“It’s rented of course, but yes.”

“I had no idea.”

“No.”

“And have you booked tickets and hotels and stuff?”

I shake my head. “I thought I’d do it as I go along.”

“Right.”

I frown at Jenny, picking up on some hidden motive. “Why?”

“I … look, I know I haven’t been as nice as I should have been, right?”

“Really Jen, it’s fine. You’ve got so much going on.”

“But … well … if you could …”

“Yes?”

“If you could stay till tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, you know I have to go to London …”

“Oh, yes, right. And you want me to look after Sarah?”

“No, that’s not it. No, Sarah will be in nursery and Susan can pick her up.”

“Then … ?”

“I think I need someone with me.”

“In London?”

“Yes. And Tom’s working of course, so …”

“Right,” I say. I frown and glance a little regretfully at my packed bag. “Is there something specific happening? Is there a specific reason, because …”

Jenny sighs and swallows. “I didn’t want to tell you,” she says, rubbing her brow and looking out of the window. “It’s not fair really. It’s not fair on you.”

I touch her arm and she looks back at me, watery eyed.

“Jenny?” I prompt.

“It’s cancer,” she says in a whisper.

“I’m sorry?” I honestly think that I have misheard her.

“It’s cancer. A brain tumour.”

“You?”

“No the neighbour’s cat.”

“The neigh … ?”

“Well of course me.”

“I’m sorry, I mean … God! Really?”

“Well, that’s what they said anyway.”

“And that’s the cause of the fits you had?”

“Yes. Pressure on the brain or something.”

“God.”

“Yeah.”

“Did they say anything else?”

Jenny nods and bites her lip. “Yeah, they did,” she says, her voice trembling and tears welling up. I sit and watch her face swell and wait for whatever’s coming next.

“It’s in a really difficult place,” she finally says.

“What do you mean, a diff …”

“Difficult to operate on. That’s why he had to consult.”

“To consult?”

“With a colleague.” She clears her throat, then continues, “The guy I saw – the specialist – he had to talk to a colleague, about what to do. Because he doesn’t think they can take it out because of where it is.”

“So what’s happening Tuesday?”

“Tuesday they decide. Or at least, Tuesday he tells me what they’ve decided.”

“Right. About what?”

“Oh, Mark, look, I don’t know …” she says, her voice strangely flat. Tears are streaming down her cheeks though and I’m starting to cry as well. “I’m … I’m scared,” she gasps.

“Oh Jen. Of course you are. You should have told me.”

“I know. And I know it’s not fair, but, can you? Can you come with me?”

“Of course,” I say. “You know I will.”

“I’m so scared,” she says again. “I’m so worried about Sarah.”

“Sarah?”

“Well if something happens …” Her body shudders and I turn towards her and take her in my arms. “If something happens to me,” she whispers. “What’s going to happen to her?”

“It’ll all be fine,” I say squeezing her as tight as I can and staring outside at the fast-moving clouds.

“Will it?” she asks. “Will it be fine?”

“Of course,” I say. “You’ll see. It’ll all be OK. They do miracles nowadays.”