Chapter Thirteen:

Back to Black

As we pull up outside Elm Tree a week later, I am thrilled to see Izzy, Freedom, and Mother shivering on the front step to greet us. They knew we were engaged, I had called as soon as we had stabled Blaze and run back to the ranch. It only disgruntled me a little to discover that Mother had already known as Michael had asked her permission when he could not make contact with my father. He was definitely suspicious that he had left again so suddenly, but seeing my expression had not pressed me for further information.

‘Congratulations to both of you!’ she cries and as we hurry towards them, we all hug and I hold on to my mother for a moment longer, as apart from eating more, one of my New Year’s Resolutions was to be a better daughter. There has been none of the expected exclamations that we were too young to be contemplating marriage and I loved her for that. My illness had taught me that time comes with no guarantee, and that I needed to live for now. She kisses the top of my head and ushers us into the house, which to my delight is decorated with banners and seemingly any other ‘Congratulations on your Engagement!’ paraphernalia they could find.

I hug Izzy again and tell her she would have to help me plan the wedding, which we want to take place the following New Year. ‘I don’t want too many people, though,’ I say anxiously, shuddering at the thought of Jules and Eddie turning up drunk with all the rest of my old acquaintances. ‘But Izzy, you will be my bridesmaid, won’t you?’

‘Of course I will.’ She looks at me fondly then we both turn to look at our mother, sensing apprehension as we all consider how Father might fit into all this. Not at all, if I have my way.

I take Michael’s hand and we sit by the fire. Mother brings cups of tea as we fuss over Freedom, who is looking decidedly different to the dog we rescued a few weeks ago. He has already gained a little weight, and has been lovingly groomed so his coat is shining. Even Lillian looks better; her air of sadness is gone and she has rosy cheeks from the long strolls they have taken together. I was thankful to hear her occasionally shorten his name to Fred or Freddie, and I latch on to this, feeling slightly relieved I may be saved from shouting ‘Freedom’ across the busy village common.

‘He is so well trained,’ Mother tells us proudly. ‘He runs straight back to me the second I call him, and he stops and sits next to busy roads.’ She rubs his ears affectionately. ‘You’re a little genius aren’t you, Fred?’

I interrupt her loudly, feeling he had had enough attention for now, and tell them to look at my engagement ring.

I am once again a little put out as Mother tells me Michael had already shown it to her when he asked for her blessing, but I do try to remember my three-day-old resolution and just smile sweetly as she goes on to tell me how stunning it is.

‘Where would like to get married?’ Izzy probably hopes it will be somewhere exotic.

‘In the village church, maybe.’ I look shyly at Michael. ‘Then perhaps a small gathering here or at the ranch, depending on where we are.’

My mother has a worried look on her face so I try to reassure her. ‘Michael’s parents are going travelling in January next year. They’ve always wanted to, but needed to wait until Michael was completely recovered before they could leave him to manage Sunrise.’

‘I’ll be one hundred per cent this time next year,’ Michael continues as Mother looks progressively anxious, ‘so that will free them to live out their lifelong dream abroad without worrying about leaving me alone. They have asked Anna and I if we will take over the ranch after we’re married. Of course she’ll finish her A Levels first and I will show her the ropes, but she can travel between there and Elm Tree until it’s all settled. Lillian, it really is not that far – only forty-five minutes if the traffic’s good – and we shall expect to see you and Freedom every weekend!’

I try to conceal my look of horror as Izzy giggles and Mother looks delighted.

I climb up the stairs to my room, leaving them talking while I take a few moments to myself. As promised, I take off my wig and place it back on the stand Mother bought for me. Leaning forward in my dressing room mirror I see that the scar is still swollen and painful. I curse inwardly that it should have been enough to have a bloody brain tumour without this on top of everything. I remember Mr Raj prescribing me some healing cream, which I had not used as he told me it was only if the scar did not heal by itself. I rummage around in the drawers to find it as Izzy walks in.

‘What you lost?’ she asks me, plonking herself down on the bed.

‘My scar isn’t healing. Mr Raj gave me some cream and I can’t find it.’

Izzy backs out the room and returns a few moments later with the little tube. ‘We may have borrowed it for Freedom,’ she tells me. ‘Mother was scared to take him to a vet about the cut above his eye in case someone had reported him missing. She called a vet instead and they said that cream was suitable as it is mildly antibacterial.’

Should I have had to listen to her nervous ramblings a month ago about how our mother had stolen her daughter’s scar cream for a bloody dog, I could not have been held responsible for my actions. Now I sigh deeply and ask her, ‘Did it work?’

‘Oh yes!’ She sounds terribly relieved. ‘He healed up in no time, bless him.’ Her voice trails off as she sees my expression and she offers to help me.

‘You have to clean it with those sterile wipes first,’ she twitters on. ‘The vet told us to use those as well.’

I frown crossly but say nothing as she puts on gloves and gently cleanses my scalp. I am reminded of Dr. Braby on the ward and suddenly feel incredibly tired. I absently listen to Izzy telling me off for wearing my wig and suddenly meet her eyes in the mirror.

‘I never thanked you.’

‘What for?’ she asks, looking confused.

‘The way you were when I was in hospital, it really got me through everything. Knowing that I had you … and Mother,’ I add, smiling.

‘We love you, Anna. It’s been hell for us too; worrying you might not get better. Honestly, if it hadn’t been for Michael, we would never have got through this. You have changed so much since you met him, you seem … happy.’

‘Despite everything?’ I say pointing to my bereft hair and ugly scar.

‘Despite everything,’ she says, and gives me a hug.

***

Michael stays for as long as he can before heading home to help his parents. They had a party of twelve booked in for the fifteenth of January, so he had to return to contribute with the preparations.

I mope around for a few days, but secretly I am exhausted trying to look good for him all the time. It is quite blissful not to bother with makeup for a little while and I am less self-conscious about not wearing my wig. Izzy is back to school so I spend my days mostly between Mother and long phone conversations with Michael.

‘How are you feeling today?’ he asks, as he always does.

‘I’m fine.’ I tell him, although for the last week or so this has not been entirely true. I’m still finding it difficult to eat despite having had my medicine doses reduced, and although I haven’t seen him since I was discharged, Mr Raj had told me my symptoms should gradually disappear. But I felt dizzy, my headaches have returned, and I am permanently tired. I had almost fallen last week when I had run up the stairs hearing my mobile ringing from my room, and had had to grab on to the bannister at the top, suddenly feeling I may pass out.

This had happened a lot before my diagnosis, but I had been drinking and partying so much, I thought feeling dizzy was normal.

‘Anna, are you still there?’ Michael’s voice breaks through my reverie.

‘Yes, I’m here. Are you still coming to my appointment next week?’

‘Of course I am, angel. January twenty-second, three-thirty.’ I smile at his American accent, which is prominent at more times than others, especially when he recites dates and times. I hear my mother calling for me so I roll my eyes and tell him I have to go.

‘What is the emergency?’ I ask her as I find them in the kitchen, Freedom her constant companion. I pat his head while she tells me dinner is ready, and I recoil as she lifts the pan lid and a wave of nausea hits me. I feel very hot at the back of my head and my mother tells me, ‘That is enough, Anna. You’ve looked wretched and wan for almost a week. I haven’t said anything thus far, but we need to bring your appointment with Mr Raj forward. I’m sorry, darling, but you should be feeling better and something isn’t right.’

I sit at the breakfast bar and place my burning temples against the cool work surface. ‘It’s back, isn’t it?’ I ask without looking up. ‘They said it might come back and it’s back. Like the fucking Terminator.’

***

Mr Raj agreed to see me earlier and booked a new appointment for the seventeenth. I sit nervously outside his room but this time I am not alone. Izzy and my mother are to the left of me, bickering about Izzy biting her nails. Michael is on my right, holding my hand, and Freedom is waiting in the car with a blanket. Mr Raj smiles as he sees us and pulls up a few extra chairs. I determinedly avoid the Alice in Wonderland chair he gestures me towards and he nods understandingly as I plonk myself on an uncomfortable plastic seat. It reminds me of the chairs from school and I suddenly think of an assistant whose chair we once pulled out from under her.

‘So, Anna.’ I try to read the consultant’s face but he stays neutral as always. ‘Thank you for undergoing more tests for me earlier. I trust they weren’t too unbearable?’ I hope to God he is not remembering my peek-a-boo bra.

‘They were fine,’ I mutter, hardly remembering the physical exam another doctor in neurology had carried out that morning. A nurse had taken blood and urine samples and I had been waiting for three hours for him to take off his glasses and tell me once again that I have cancer.

‘I have your results here …’ He begins slowly, but I cannot take any more.

‘I’ll save you the bother, Mr Raj, as this cannot be a part of your job you are particularly fond of.’ I say ‘job’ in a derisory manner just to be sure he knew how much I thought his chosen vocation sucked. ‘My brain tumour has returned with a vengeance, this time it is not possible to operate and instead of kindly allowing me to die with an ounce of dignity the first time round you have successfully prolonged my suffering and pain a further four months.’

I smile with satisfaction as Mr Raj does remove his glasses as predicted.

‘No, Miss Winters. Your cancer has not returned.’ He smiles in a friendly manner that I happen to find quite smug. ‘You’re pregnant.’

That wipes the smirk off my face.

***

I have never ever thought about having children. To me that is something for thirty-year-olds when they have exhausted every excuse not to. I look around at the stunned faces. Michael looks shocked but delighted; Mr Raj still looks a little smug like he has got one over on me, and Izzy and my mother look like they can barely contain themselves. I can tell they are beyond relieved that my cancer has not returned. Mother looks very anxious but somehow happy at the same time. As I watch them looking back at me expectantly, I wonder why it is that I do not feel the same. I sense a foreboding dark cloud returning.