Chapter nineteen

A

ndy answered immediately and Charlotte found herself hesitant, realising she was about to expose her inner frustration and worry to someone she hardly knew. His sympathetic and consoling manner, telling her to let it out, broke through her reserve and she poured out her feelings, becoming tearful in the process.

‘Please don’t cry, I’m sure your mother will realise you’re only trying to help and be more grateful. She sounds like the proverbial tough old boot who doesn’t want to admit to any weakness. How did she react when she first had cancer?’

‘Oh, she was worse! It was shortly after Daddy died and she buried herself away, not wanting to see me or anyone else. I only discovered she had cancer when I found a letter from her oncologist she had accidentally left in my house,’ Charlotte said, pacing up and down her room. The sound of Andy’s voice helped her to calm down a little and she was glad she had phoned him, in spite of not having any right to involve him in her problems.

‘Mothers can’t be seen to be weak; my own was the same when she was seriously ill a few years back. Just be patient and be there for her. That’s all you can do.’ His voice softened. ‘I miss you, Charlotte. Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?’

She felt her insides melt. It was so tempting.

‘No, much as it would be lovely to see you, it’s better if I handle this alone. I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise. I…I miss you too.’ Saying the words made her realise they were true.

She asked him how his latest project was going and they talked for about twenty minutes before she reluctantly ended the call, promising to ring him the next day. Sitting still, she recognised their relationship had become closer. Anxiety about her mother had precipitated emotions to the surface, including her growing attraction to Andy. And he had made plain his willingness to help her through this awful time.

After unpacking her case she had time for a quick freshen up before going down to dinner. Assailed by the aroma of chicken cooked in wine, Charlotte anticipated an enjoyable meal until Phillips said her mother was too tired to eat downstairs and a tray had been taken to her room, where she was not to be disturbed.

For a moment Charlotte felt a flash of anger, sensing her mother was deliberately avoiding her. Then common sense prevailed; her mother had looked ill and it was natural if she preferred to stay in her room. Sighing, she sat down and allowed the butler to serve the food which, as usual, was delicious and accompanied by one of her favourite wines. Smiling at Phillips for his thoughtfulness, she raised her glass in a salute to her mother. Hopefully she would be willing to talk in the morning and they could agree on possible alternative treatments. If they didn’t then the future for her mother looked bleak.

The next morning when Charlotte walked into the breakfast room she was relieved to see her mother already sitting at the table, albeit pushing food around her plate.

‘Good morning, Mother. Do you feel better today?’ she asked, taking a seat next to her.

‘A little, thank you.’ Her mother had dark rings around her eyes and her usually immaculate hair looked unwashed.

Charlotte helped herself to the hot buffet laid out on a side table and Phillips arrived with a fresh pot of tea. Lapsang – her favourite.

Once seated she concentrated on her food, unsure how to approach the subject uppermost in her mind. Annette continued playing with her food, taking the occasional mouthful.

‘You don’t seem to have much of an appetite, Mother. Is it because of your illness?’

‘Yes, I find it hard to swallow and don’t enjoy my food,’ her mother replied, sucking in her gaunt cheeks.

‘I see. Will the chemo help?’

‘Apparently. I’ve been booked into the clinic on Monday and will stay until Wednesday while I undergo treatment.’

‘In which case I’ll stay in London until you leave, Mother.’

‘There’s no need–’ her mother waved her hand.

‘There’s every need. I want to be near so I can visit and bring anything you require. Just as I did last time you had treatment.’ Her mind raced. It was so soon…

‘Have you given any thought to my suggestion about talking to Gillian, the doctor I mentioned? Perhaps you could see her before entering the clinic?’

Her mother shrugged.

‘Not particularly. I’m not sure there’s any point.’

‘I can’t see any harm in talking to her and she might be able to suggest something to make the chemo more bearable. Remember how ill it made you last time? She did also say she’s helped patients go into remission, Mother, and at the very least it should be possible to provide a tolerable treatment which might prolong your–’

‘What, my life?’ Annette snorted. ‘And what makes you think I want to live longer? In pain and not able to do the things I enjoy. What would be the point?’ She glared at Charlotte, eyes blazing and lips stretched tight.

She reeled back, shocked at her mother’s words.

‘But…but you’re a fighter, not a quitter! You always taught me only cowards gave up. And you’re no coward, Mother! Surely, if we could find an approach which gave you a chance to beat this disease, or at least become pain-free and able to enjoy life again, it would be worth taking?’ Charlotte said, leaning forward.

Annette’s eyes opened wide.

‘I’m surprised you care. We hardly have a close relationship after all. It’s my life we’re discussing here and I can make my own choices, thank you.’

Charlotte re-filled her cup of tea, her hands shaking. Her mother was so pig-headed! Taking a deep breath, she tried again, her voice calm. ‘Of course it’s your choice, Mother. But what have you got to lose by talking to someone who’s willing to help? At the very least we might be able to make your last months, possibly years, more comfortable and fulfilling. And for the record, I do care, you just make it clear you…you’ve never loved me.’ Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks and she brushed them away.

Annette gasped, and her jaw dropped.

‘What nonsense! I do love you, Charlotte, I’m just not one of those huggy people who fuss over their children. Your father was more like that and when you two were together I couldn’t get a look in.’ She sniffed, reaching for a handkerchief in her cardigan pocket. ‘I do miss him, you know. I’ve been quite lost without him and now…’ She blew her nose, turning her head away.

Charlotte felt her stomach tighten and she risked touching her mother’s hand. This time she did not recoil, but left it on the table. Charlotte gripped it, feeling the cold thinness of the fingers. Leaning forward, she put her arms around her mother’s shoulders and they remained locked in an alien, but somewhat comforting embrace. They quickly drew apart when Phillips knocked on the door, asking if they needed anything else. On being told they did not, he left.

An awkward silence followed. Charlotte sensed the shift in their relationship and did not want to push her mother too far. She could almost hear the eggshells crackling under her feet.

Her mother coughed.

‘Well, it would seem we both have learnt something this morning.’ She smiled faintly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. ‘I do appreciate your concern, Charlotte, and you’re right to say I have nothing to lose. My life already hangs in the balance, so what harm can it do to seek help?’ She dabbed at her eyes, and straightened her shoulders. ‘If you would be so kind as to give me Gillian’s number, I will phone to arrange an appointment, if possible before I enter the clinic.’

Charlotte felt a rush of relief.

‘I’ll fetch it now. I’m sure she will be able to see you soon as she’s semi-retired and I’m happy to take you to London once you’ve arranged a time. You need to be there before Monday, anyway.’

Annette nodded and Charlotte ran upstairs for her phone, praying Gillian would be free at such short notice. Once she had passed on the number she left her mother to make the call and went off to the kitchen to chat to the cook. Mrs Combe, a rotund, cheerful woman who had been the family cook for as long as Charlotte remembered, gave her a big hug, saying she looked thin and needed fattening up.

She laughed. ‘No, I don’t, Mrs C. I lost weight deliberately and feel so much better for it. But I did enjoy my dinner last night, thank you. You haven’t lost your touch,’ she said.

Mrs Combe grunted. ‘I wish Lady Townsend agreed with you. She hardly touches anything I make these days and it’s worried me, it has.’ She gave Charlotte a keen look. ‘Is there anything wrong, Miss Charlotte? Your mother always loved her food, she did.’

Charlotte was torn. She did not want to discuss her mother’s illness, knowing she would be mortified, but…

‘She’s not been well, Mrs C, but the doctor’s sorting her out and I’m sure her appetite will return soon. Please don’t say anything to her. You know what a private person my mother is.’

Mrs Combe tapped her nose.

‘I won’t be saying anything, Miss Charlotte. I’m just glad to hear whatever was wrong is getting put right. Now, how are things with you? I heard you were spending a lot of time in Guernsey lately and wondered what the attraction was?’ she said, her head tilted to one side.

Charlotte felt herself flush. ‘Oh, I’ve been staying at a fabulous health centre and made friends with some of the locals. It’s been good to get away from London,’ she said, flicking her hair.

‘Good. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to actually live in London, myself. So busy and noisy and everyone in such a hurry! Give me the countryside, anytime, I say,’ Mrs Combe said, hands resting on her stomach. For a moment Charlotte found the image of the cook hurrying about the streets of the city quite incongruous and suppressed a smile.

Saying she must get back to her mother, Charlotte left the kitchen and returned to the breakfast room where she found her mother looking out of the French windows at the rose garden, her pride and joy. She felt a lump in her throat as she tried to imagine her mother’s thoughts. Annette turned round and Charlotte caught a hint of sadness around her mouth, quickly replaced with a tight smile.

‘I had a long conversation with Gillian Henderson and she’s kindly agreed to see me tomorrow afternoon in Richmond,’ Annette said in her usual brisk tone.

‘That’s good news, Mother. We could travel up to London tomorrow morning and I can drive you to Richmond later.’

‘Thank you, Charlotte. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to talk to Phillips.’

Charlotte was left feeling as if she had been dismissed and gritted her teeth. It would seem her mother’s earlier softening was not yet permanent.

They arrived at the house in Bloomsbury at eleven the next morning and Mrs Thomas, forewarned this time, had prepared a room for Lady Townsend. After taking their cases upstairs she served them coffee and biscuits in the morning room.

Charlotte observed her mother as they sipped their coffee. She was concerned with what she saw. Her mother’s skin had a yellow tinge and the dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced. Her stomach clenched. Perhaps it was too late…She had been on the internet to learn more about metastasis of the liver and the prognosis was not good. But for her mother’s sake she had to be seen to be optimistic. The previous evening she had spoken to Andy and just knowing he was there for her helped. Once the chemo was over, she hoped to persuade Annette to return with her to Guernsey to spend some time at La Folie. Gillian was due to fly over on Sunday to stay with Malcolm so it would work out perfectly, as long as her mother agreed.

The drive to Richmond was slow, thanks to a build-up of traffic leaving London for the weekend, but they arrived in good time and Charlotte waited in an airy sitting room while Gillian took Annette off for the consultation. An hour later the women returned and Charlotte was relieved to see her mother smiling.

‘Thank you for bringing your mother, Charlotte. We’ve had a long chat and I’ve made up some remedies which will help mitigate the effect of the chemo next week as well as kick-start the healing process,’ Gillian said, turning to Annette and giving her a hug. Charlotte saw the flash of warmth between them and smiled.

‘That’s wonderful. Thanks again for seeing my mother so soon.’

As they walked towards the front door, Annette turned to say goodbye, adding, ‘I look forward to seeing you next week.’ Charlotte was puzzled but followed her mother outside.

‘I understood Gillian was off to Guernsey, so how can you see her next week?’

Annette smiled. ‘She told me how wonderful La Folie is and I’ve agreed to fly over after I leave the clinic. Gillian has offered to be on hand to begin a treatment programme. Wasn’t it kind of her?’

‘Yes it was. And I’m so pleased you’ve decided to stay at the centre. We can fly back together.’ Charlotte sent up a silent prayer of thanks as she started the engine. As long as the chemo went smoothly, she would be back in Guernsey on Thursday and free to see Andy again. Something which made her feel a great deal more cheerful.