‘Are you okay now?’ Liz asked Evie as she emerged from the bathroom.
She nodded. They had sent her off to the bathroom to wash her face and fix her makeup; they didn’t think it was a good idea for Emma to walk in and see her tear-streaked face first off.
‘So what now?’ asked Ellen.
‘Now we wait . . .’
The call had come through on Wednesday afternoon, from Richard Tao himself. Liz had picked up the phone with some trepidation when Michelle had announced him over the intercom. ‘Hi Richard?’
‘Hello Liz,’ he said. ‘I told them at the clinic to let me know as soon as the results were in. I thought I should call you myself.’
She was not surprised by then to hear that it was bad news. It was at least a T3 malignant melanoma, making further tests and surgery imperative, not optional. No one knew exactly how long it took for a melanoma of that depth to penetrate below the dermis and become life-threatening – it could be weeks, it could be days. But one thing was for sure, it could not wait until after the wedding. Liz knew how stubborn Emma would be, she’d insist that they had made a deal and simply refuse to listen to her. So she was going to need reinforcements. She had to get all her sisters in a room together, and very soon. Emma was going to be the most difficult to pin down, so Liz had started with her.
‘Now I know the high tea is only next week, but the girls and I want to have a drink with you before then.’
‘What girls?’
‘Your sisters, of course,’ said Liz. ‘Me, Ellen, Evie.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yes.’
‘When were you talking to them?’ she asked, her tone highly suspicious.
‘When I called about the high tea. We realised that we’re not going to get a look-in at that, with so many people there, so we should find another time to have a drink together.’
‘Oh,’ said Emma, her voice softening. ‘When were you thinking?’
‘Tomorrow night.’
‘Tomorrow? You’re not giving me much of a heads-up. When did you all talk?’
‘Oh, you know what it’s like trying to find a night that suits everyone,’ she said, evading the actual question. ‘I just thought there was more chance you might be free on a weeknight.’
‘Hmm, I have a late meeting . . .’ Emma mused, checking her diary, Liz imagined. ‘Actually Friday’s just opened up. We had a cancellation, we were supposed to catch up with Damien and Cressida but he was called overseas unexpectedly, so we’re going to have to reschedule. Heaven only knows when, I don’t have another opening before the wedding.’
Liz didn’t know or care about Damien and Cressida, they sounded like made-up people anyway. She was not comfortable at all about leaving it even one more day, but it was the only window she was going to get.
‘Friday it is then, we’ll meet at my place, I think six is good, you know, just come straight from work,’ she blurted all at once before Emma could have second thoughts. Then she hung up.
Now she had to get the other two on board. Evie was a pushover; Liz concocted a story about Emma feeling ignored and that they needed to rally around her, and Evie gobbled up the bait without question. Then Liz rang Ellen.
‘I’d love to,’ Ellen responded when Liz outlined what she had in mind. ‘But I have the kids.’
‘They’re old enough to stay on their own, Len.’
‘I know that, but I only get alternate weekends with them, Liz, and they’re busy with their friends most of the time. Friday nights are usually all we get to spend together.’
‘Look, I wouldn’t ask normally, but this is an emergency.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Ellen. ‘You just said we were having drinks to cheer her up? And I think that’s great, really, I do. But isn’t there some other time we could do it?’
‘No, there isn’t.’ Liz had hoped to avoid talking about it over the phone, but she had no choice. ‘Ellen, I found a mole on Emma’s back when I went for her dress fitting. I had it tested and it’s a melanoma. It’s malignant.’
‘What?’
Liz had gone on to explain everything, including the promise she’d made to Emma.
‘I need you with me when I break it to her, Len. We have to convince her that she has no choice, she has to have treatment as soon as possible, and we have to hope like hell that it hasn’t spread already.’
Evie had taken the news badly, as expected, even though Liz had tried to reassure her that as long as they had caught it early, it was highly treatable. She didn’t share her greatest fear that indeed they hadn’t caught it early at all, and that it had metastasised. Liz hadn’t even told Ellen that if it had, the survival rate was grim. It was basically considered incurable. She knew the chances of that were small, but without further tests any prognosis was still possible. And even if it had only spread as far as the lymph nodes and was in fact far more treatable, melanoma had a high incidence of recurrence, and survival rates reduced dramatically with each recurrence. This was the downside of being medically trained: Liz knew too much. She had to calm herself down and focus on taking it one step at a time.
When the doorbell sounded, everyone froze. Liz looked at her sisters. ‘Let’s try and act normal, natural, okay?’
They nodded and she went to open the door. Emma breezed in, pausing to air-kiss Liz, then swooping on the other two.
Liz had bought good champagne so that Emma would have nothing to turn her nose up at; besides, it felt like it was the least she could do. She popped the bottle and filled their glasses, before raising hers.
‘To Emma and Blake, may you enjoy a very long life together.’
Oh God, she shouldn’t have said that. Evie was tearing up already.
‘Oh Evie,’ Emma chided, putting her arm around her sister’s shoulders. ‘You’re always so emotional.’
Ellen gave Evie a stern older sister glare, and she sniffed, composing herself before gulping down some of her wine.
‘So let’s sit down, relax,’ suggested Liz. ‘Tell us all about the madness, Em.’
‘Madness is an understatement,’ she replied, before launching into an animated, blow-by-blow account of the preparations she was immersed in at the minute. Liz found it hard to concentrate on what she was saying, and she could tell Ellen and Evie weren’t even trying. Ellen’s eyes kept darting from Emma to Liz expectantly, and Evie was barely holding back the tide of tears threatening to burst any minute. Her face was all pinched and she couldn’t stop fidgeting. Liz knew she wouldn’t be able to put it off much longer.
The banks finally broke, and Evie started to weep. Emma put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m only talking about wedding cake and photographers, Ev. You’re going to be a mess by the wedding at this rate.’
Evie looked plaintively across at Liz, and Ellen’s eyes were still darting anxiously back and forth, her forehead knotted with tension.
Emma glanced around at her sisters, tracking the looks from one to another. ‘What’s going on here?’ she said finally.
‘I can’t stand this any more,’ Evie gasped. ‘Please tell her, Liz.’
‘Tell me what?’
‘Evie, you need to calm down,’ Liz said, keeping her voice level. She turned to look at Emma. ‘You know the mole I removed from your back? Well . . .’
She’d had to give this news before, many times. It was always difficult, but this . . . this was something else altogether. This was her sister. She took a breath.
‘I’m afraid it’s malignant, Em, and more advanced than we would have liked.’
Liz gave that a moment to sink in, but Emma was just sitting there, passive. So she pushed on.
‘The results we have so far are not conclusive, we need to do more tests. But it appears to be at least a T3, which means the melanoma has penetrated the dermis, or worse. We need to test your lymph nodes as soon as possible to see how far it’s spread, and to stop it spreading any further.’
Emma’s expression didn’t change. Nothing. She didn’t flinch, she hardly even blinked. Eventually she spoke.
‘I told you I didn’t want to know, Liz. We had a deal.’
‘I realise that,’ said Liz, ‘but when I agreed to that, I thought even if it was a melanoma it would be in situ, which is when it’s all contained in the actual mole and hasn’t started to penetrate the dermis yet. In that case, removing the mole is all that’s needed. I didn’t expect it was going to be a T3. If I did, I would have had you at the hospital that afternoon.’
Emma still remained strangely unmoved. ‘Well, no you wouldn’t have,’ she returned. ‘I had an engagement that evening, I wouldn’t have let you go carting me off to the hospital, and now I wish I’d never let you talk me into removing the mole.’
‘Emma, how can you say that?’ said Ellen. ‘Don’t you understand what a melanoma is? It’s cancer!’
‘Enough with the drama.’ Emma rolled her eyes. ‘The fact is, if I hadn’t asked Liz to my dress fitting, we’d be none the wiser.’ An edge was creeping into her voice. ‘So, that being the case, I would have gone ahead with my plans, feeling perfectly well, as I do now, until perhaps, just perhaps, Liz might have noticed the mole on the day of the wedding, when she was helping me adjust my veil or some such thing. And she might have had the same level of concern, but not even Liz would have thought she could whisk me away for a quick biopsy before the ceremony. And then I would be off on my honeymoon the next day, with a promise that I would have it checked out on my return, which is what I suggested last week. I should have stuck to my guns.’
Liz shook her head. ‘But don’t you see, Em, this is good news that we’ve caught it early, it’s a stroke of luck. Between now and when you come back from your honeymoon is enough time for the cancer to spread, but we can arrest it now, before it has the chance.’ She hoped.
‘You’re talking about a few weeks,’ said Emma.
‘It’ll be more than a month,’ Ellen pointed out.
‘This is just scare tactics.’
‘You want to be really scared, Emma?’ said Liz. ‘If it’s already gone into the subcutaneous layer, every single day counts after that. We act now – hopefully before it’s made it to the lymph nodes – and your survival rate is very high. We leave it, it can spread anywhere, to your liver, your lungs. And the fact is, melanoma that has metastasised . . .’ She took a breath. ‘It’s terminal, Em.’
‘What?’ Ellen said, alarmed. ‘But you are talking worst case?’
‘I’m talking inevitable, if it isn’t treated promptly,’ said Liz. ‘Melanoma is one of the most dangerous malignancies, we need to get things moving as quickly as possible, get you to the hospital at the very latest tomorrow morning. They’ll do a scan, and then a surgeon will perform a sentinel node biopsy, as well as a wide excision to remove a margin of tissue from around the site of the original tumour, the mole. The biopsy results will take at least a few days and you might need further surgery after that to remove any affected lymph nodes. But the sooner we know what we’re up against, the better.’
Emma was shaking her head. ‘It’s not possible, I just don’t have that kind of time, Liz. You’ve obviously got no idea how much there is to do – weddings don’t organise themselves, you know.’
‘I can help,’ Evie piped in. ‘I’m completely available to do whatever needs doing.’
‘I have to work,’ said Ellen, ‘but that still gives me plenty of time to help as well.’
‘It’s not that simple,’ said Emma. ‘Things are too far along now, it’d be more work getting you two up to speed than it would be to do it myself. Any way you look at this, it’s simply impossible.’
‘Nothing’s impossible, Emma,’ said Liz. ‘This is too important.’
‘Look,’ she returned, clearly getting frustrated, ‘if I go ahead with this now, I presume I’ll end up with a big ugly gash across my back from that wide incision. And then you said there could be more surgery if it’s in the lymph nodes? Have you forgotten, Liz, I’m wearing a strapless dress? It’s way too late in the day to be altering it now.’
‘You don’t do this, Emma,’ said Liz, ‘your chances of walking down the aisle in that dress at all are slim at best.’
‘You don’t know that, you don’t know anything without more tests,’ she scoffed. ‘And those tests are going to ensure that everything is ruined, aren’t they, Liz? And won’t that make you happy?’
‘What?’
‘Oh, come on, I know how pissed off you are that you’re the last one not married. While Blake and I weren’t married, you didn’t look so pathetic, hanging around waiting for a married man who’s never going to leave his wife for you. Instead you could point the finger at poor ridiculous Emma, in her ridiculous job, hanging on to Blake, who was obviously just waiting for someone better to come along. Except he wasn’t. He just didn’t care about having a big wedding, but he knew how important it was to me and that’s why he finally proposed.’ She got to her feet. ‘And that’s why I’m going through with this wedding, and nothing’s going to stop me, certainly not a stupid little mole on my back that’s not even there any more!’
‘Emma, this is crazy,’ Liz said. ‘You’re not being rational.’
‘You have to listen to her,’ Ellen insisted.
Evie could only sob, nodding in agreement.
‘Oh for godsakes, Evie, would you stop crying?’ Emma snapped. ‘They’ve sucked you up into this little melodrama. For once in your life don’t let them manipulate you.’ She glared at Liz and Ellen. ‘This is my moment, my time, and you’re not going to take it away from me. You’ll all finally see what I can do, and maybe you won’t think that my life is so pointless.’
‘I don’t think your life is pointless at all,’ Liz said seriously. ‘That’s why I’m trying to save it.’
Emma looked unfazed. ‘Well I’m not going to let you ruin my wedding day,’ she said, her voice quiet but determined. She walked back over to the coffee table and picked up her champagne glass, skolling back what was left. ‘Thanks for the drink, girls. It’s been a blast. See you at the church.’
With that she picked up her handbag and walked over to the door, letting herself out without looking back at them.
Ellen turned to Liz. ‘You let her just walk out?’
‘What else was I supposed to do? Crash tackle her to the floor and tie her up?’
‘So you think it’ll be okay to wait till after the wedding?’
‘Of course I don’t.’ She picked up the phone. ‘I’m calling Blake.’
After she’d pulled into her space in the basement carpark, Emma sat for a moment collecting her thoughts. Blake was already home, his car parked next to hers. She was wondering how best to play this with him. He was going to find out eventually, she was sure Liz would drag him into it. So it was better if it came from her first. She hadn’t even mentioned the mole coming off yet, which had required a little subterfuge in the past week, mostly in the bathroom. Lucky they weren’t having much sex at the moment, they were both too exhausted, so she had managed to keep herself covered up in bed.
So, she decided, offhand was the best approach.
‘Oh, by the way, I had a mole taken off last week, turns out it’s malignant.’
No, she couldn’t use that word offhandedly. Malignant. What an ugly word it was, it actually sounded malignant.
How about, ‘. . . turns out it was a melanoma. But it’s all gone now. I’ll have some follow-up tests when we get back from our honeymoon, just to make sure.’
That was better.
She got out of the car and caught the lift up to their floor, rehearsing the words over in her head, practising the tone. The good thing was that she knew Blake wouldn’t make a big deal about it. He would take her lead; if Emma was unconcerned, he would see no reason to be otherwise, and he certainly wouldn’t waste energy stressing about it.
She stepped out of the lift and walked up the hall to the apartment. She let herself in, but before she had tossed her keys into the bowl or put her bag down, Blake was coming towards her up the hall.
‘Emma, I’ve just spoken to Liz,’ he said urgently, still holding the phone in his hand.
She sighed. ‘Oh for goodness sake,’ she said, making her annoyance plain. ‘She wasn’t going on about the mole, was she?’
‘The mole?’ he said. ‘You mean the malignant melanoma?’
‘Which is a mole by any other name,’ she said lightly, walking past him out into the living room. ‘Isn’t mole an ugly name, I wonder who came up with it. I mean, freckle is cute, you can spin “freckle”, you can’t do much with “mole”.’
‘Emma, this sounds serious,’ Blake persisted, following her.
She continued her way across to their bedroom. Don’t get drawn into this, keep it offhand, appear unaffected. He will follow your lead.
‘Liz is overreacting, Blake,’ she said. ‘You know she has a bee in her bonnet about solariums, she was just trying to frighten me.’
‘I don’t think so, Em. She explained everything to me, that it’s a T3, which means it could have spread. You have to go and have more tests.’
‘Of course I will,’ she assured him, crossing to the walk-in and slipping off her shoes. ‘I’m not stupid, Blake. I’ve told her to book me in for everything once we’re back from the honeymoon.’
‘Liz said you can’t wait that long.’
‘Dear oh dear, Blake,’ she shook her head. ‘I’ve never heard you pay so much attention to one of my sisters.’
‘Emma, she’s a doctor!’
‘Which means she knows too much, and she’s overreacting.’
‘What’s wrong with playing it safe?’ he urged. ‘Liz said it’s only a couple of days in hospital.’
‘Ha! Have you seen my schedule for the next few weeks, Blake? There are just not enough hours in the day already, and I certainly don’t have a couple of days to spare –’
‘Emma,’ he interrupted firmly. ‘I don’t think you understand how serious this is.’
‘No, it’s you who doesn’t understand what’s really going on here,’ she said, turning around to face him. ‘You know what my sisters are like. They have seized on one tiny little mole to sabotage my wedding, because they can’t stand that after all their gossiping and sniping that I’d never get you to marry me, that’s exactly what’s going to happen. They know my wedding will be amazing and they want to ruin it for me, because they’re so miserable in their own lives. Liz has wasted more than a decade on an opportunistic adulterer, and Ellen’s perfect marriage was a total lie, and Evie . . . well, Evie will go along with whatever they tell her to. But I’m not a such a pushover. I’m not going to let them win.’
Blake stood there, staring at her. ‘Are you listening to yourself?’ he said finally.
‘What?’
‘You’re actually refusing treatment for cancer so that this fucking circus can go ahead?’
She didn’t like his tone. ‘I’m not refusing treatment, Blake, just delaying it. Why is everyone making such a big deal about this? I’ve got well and truly enough on my plate . . .’
While she changed her clothes inside the walk-in, Emma gave him a rundown of the next few days, partly to show him how impossible it was to fit in time-consuming tests and procedures, but mostly just to move the conversation along. Hopefully they could start to talk about something else. She’d had enough discussion about her mole for one night. When she walked out of the wardrobe a few minutes later, Blake had opened a suitcase on the bed and was zipping up his toiletries bag. He tossed it into the suitcase and went to walk past her.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m not going to be a part of this, Emma.’
She turned around, watching him as he plucked socks and underpants and T-shirts from his drawers.
‘Blake, what are you talking about?’
‘I’ve had enough,’ he said, walking past her again and tossing the things into the bag. ‘I can’t do this any more, I’m out.’
He walked back to the robe and started to take shirts off hangers.
‘You have got to be kidding me,’ Emma said. She was really beginning to get pissed off now. How dare Liz interfere like this? She had a good mind to ring her up and tell her off. And she was going to, but later; she had to deal with Blake’s tantrum first.
‘Stop this, Blake,’ Emma said. ‘We have enough to do without you pulling your entire wardrobe apart just to make a point.’
He didn’t respond as he passed by her again with a pile of shirts over his arm. He started to pack them into the suitcase.
‘This is all about the cost, isn’t it?’ said Emma.
Blake looked up at her then. ‘You’re kidding, you think that’s what this is about?’ He shook his head. ‘Read my lips, Emma. I’m out. I’m leaving. It’s over.’
She scowled at him. ‘I know you never wanted this wedding, but this is low, to pull out now and to pretend to use my mole as your excuse.’
He ignored her, walking back into the robe and returning with a stack of jeans and trousers.
‘I can’t believe this,’ she said, planting her hands on her hips. ‘You must have been so thrilled when Liz called, handing you a pass-out on a silver platter. If you think anyone is going to see this as anything but you being a selfish, childish prat, then you’re mistaken. I’ll never forgive you, Blake. You don’t get to ruin the wedding and then let things go back to the way they were. There’s no coming back from this.’
Her voice was rising more shrilly as he moved around the room, calmly collecting his belongings, totally unmoved by what she was saying.
‘You walk out of here, Blake,’ she cried as he closed up his suitcase and picked it up off the bed, ‘and that’s it. I never want to see you again.’
He didn’t even glance in her direction as he strode out of the bedroom. It was as though she wasn’t there.
‘Blake, I’m warning you, this is your last chance. I won’t take you back if you do this to me.’
He picked up his laptop case and slung the strap over his shoulder, then he walked up the hall, took his keys from the bowl and left the apartment, without even looking back.
Emma stood there trembling so hard that her legs finally gave out and she collapsed onto the floor, sobbing.
There was nothing left for them to do at Liz’s except sit around and wait until they heard from either Emma or Blake. Liz told Ellen and Evie they might as well go home, that she’d keep them posted of any developments.
‘Are you sure?’ said Ellen. ‘I don’t mind waiting with you. Tim has the kids for the night.’
Ellen had got straight to the point when she’d called Tim yesterday. ‘Emma has a malignant melanoma. I need to be with her Friday night and I’d appreciate if the kids could stay with you so I don’t have to worry about getting back to them.’
‘Sure, of course,’ he’d said, obviously shocked. ‘How’s Emma taking it?’
‘We don’t know yet.’
Liz assured Ellen now that she didn’t need to wait around. ‘It’ll probably take Blake most of the night to talk her around anyway.’ She looked across at Evie; her eyes were all swollen and red. ‘You’re exhausted, Evie, and you’ve got a drive ahead of you. I think you should both go home and we should all try to get a good night’s sleep – hopefully we’ll need it because we’ll be supporting Emma the rest of the weekend, and who knows how long after that . . .’ she added, her voice trailing away.
Ellen nodded. ‘You’ll let us know if you hear anything, though?’
‘Absolutely.’
When Ellen got into her car, she took out her phone and rang Finn. She just wanted to hear his voice. She’d done the same the night after Liz had called. She’d poured out the whole story to him, and he’d just listened. That was all she needed right now.
‘How’d it go?’ he asked when he picked up.
‘Not very well.’
‘Where are you now? Do you want me to come over?’
‘I’m just leaving Liz’s.’
‘So come over here.’
‘I don’t think I’m going to be very good company, Finn.’
‘Come on, you don’t want to be on your own, Ellen. The kids are with Tim, aren’t they?’
She hesitated. ‘Well . . . I don’t know where you live.’
Liz dashed to grab the phone when it started to ring, hoping it would be Blake or Emma. But it was only Andrew.
‘How’d it go?’ he asked.
Liz paused before answering him. She’d had to tell him what was going on. He’d been so upset by her brush-off last week he had actually turned up at her apartment on the Saturday morning, something he’d never done in all their years together. Saturday mornings he was always too busy with the family. But apparently he had made some excuse to Jennifer about needing to check on a patient, and he had subsequently fronted up at her place at eight-thirty in the morning. He didn’t call first, and that was unusual in itself. Liz was still in bed, though awake, and when she heard the quick knock followed by the key in the lock, it gave her a fright for a moment. Andrew sung out as soon as he opened the door and Liz scrambled off the bed, but suddenly he was in the doorway, blocking her way. He looked like he was scanning the room, as if he thought he was going to find someone there. When Liz suggested as much, he brushed it off, saying she was being paranoid.
‘No, Andrew, you’re the one showing up early on a Saturday morning, with no phone call or any warning at all, and barging in here before I can even get out of bed. What’s going on?’
He dropped down to sit on the bed then, holding his head in his hands. ‘It’s been weeks, Liz. You were coming up with all these new excuses, comedy festivals and dress fittings, and then last night you didn’t even bother with an excuse, you just hung up on me and then you turned your phone off. What was I supposed to think?’
Liz sighed quietly. She was only allowed to call Andrew at work. She did have his mobile number, but that was to be used only if it was absolutely essential and she couldn’t get on to him any other way. He’d stored her number as ‘Hospital records’, because no one in that section would ever call a surgeon on his mobile, but Jennifer didn’t know that. And Liz was only ever to text, Please contact ASAP. Then, when he was able, he would call her back.
So Liz felt like saying to him that she didn’t care what he had been driven to think, whether he’d been worried or frustrated, if he didn’t like being nudged out of her life without an explanation. But instead, she calmly told him what had happened with Emma the previous night. Although he was concerned for both Liz and her sister, the relief he obviously felt at there being a reasonable excuse for her behaviour drowned out everything else. And soon he was kissing her, and soon after they were making love. And then he was gone again, and Liz felt nothing but resentment.
He had kept in touch with her this week to find out Emma’s results and had shown appropriate sympathy, if not exactly empathy. Then he’d called earlier to say he could probably make it over for a while tonight, so she’d told him what was going on.
And now Liz was sitting here, holding the phone to her ear, contemplating what to tell him. If she admitted that everyone had gone, he’d come over and they’d have sex, and then he’d go again. And he would feel a lot better, but she would not.
Finally Liz said, ‘Um, I can’t really talk right now, Andrew.’
‘They’re all still there?’
‘Emma’s being very stubborn,’ she said, which was the truth.
‘Okay,’ he paused. ‘So I guess I won’t see you tonight.’
‘No, it doesn’t look like it.’
‘She’ll come around, Lizzie,’ he said. ‘You know this is just a standard reaction to the shock.’
‘Mm.’
‘If there’s anything I can do . . .’
‘I’ll let you know.’
Evie arrived home to an empty house in darkness. She had arranged for Craig and the kids to go over to his mother’s for dinner, though she’d let him think that it was his mother’s idea. Unfortunately, as it turned out, she was unable to join them because she had to go and help Emma with something for the wedding. She could never have told Craig her sister simply needed cheering up. The chill between them had still not thawed. Weeks had passed and nothing had been said about that night, very little conversation had passed between them at all. They were polite but stilted; Evie focused on the kids, Craig spent most of his time out in the garage or in front of the television. It seemed a married couple could carry on for quite an extended period without really communicating.
Evie was about to turn on the main lights now, but she hesitated. There was something comforting about the darkness, only the moonlight coming in through the windows, casting shadows across the carpet. Evie walked around the house, turning on a lamp here and there, enjoying the peace and the stillness. Time to herself to think.
The problem was that neither of them had the skills to deal with conflict. Evie had always just smoothed things over between them in the past, accommodated. But she wasn’t prepared to do that this time. She didn’t really want to be around Craig right now, but she wasn’t sure if that was how she’d feel forever. And it was a huge step, an enormous, scary step to contemplate some kind of separation, even if it was only temporary. For the first time Evie realised just how brave Ellen had been. She and Craig were like two people on a raft in the middle of the ocean, with no oars or compass or anything, counting on the tide to bring them safely back to land.
But it was rapidly becoming clear to Evie that life was too short to drift along like that. Look at what was happening to Emma. She was only thirty-six . . . she was too young . . . it was only a mole . . .
Evie couldn’t bear to contemplate it. Liz had to put the worst-case scenario to Emma to frighten her into action. Emma could not possibly die from a mole on her back, that would be so . . . pointless, wouldn’t it? Not that there was anything stopping people from dying pointless deaths. It happened all the time.
No, she wasn’t even going to think about that. Emma would come around, she was just in shock, and surely Blake would talk some sense into her? Surely she would listen to him?
Evie supposed she should call Craig, let him know she was home earlier than expected. She was going to have to tell him about Emma, but she was reluctant. This was the kind of thing that would brush everything else under the carpet. But she was going to have to tell him eventually; she had to be available for Emma, so he was going to have to step up and take over with the kids. She was not going to accommodate him this time. She walked over to the phone in the kitchen, but then she stopped, her hand on the receiver, unable to pick it up.
She turned away and strode out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom. She changed into her walking gear, laced up her shoes and picked up her hoodie. Downstairs she found the torch she kept in the hall cupboard. She’d never walked at night before, a torch was probably a good idea. She pulled on the hoodie and zipped it up, grabbed her keys and walked out through the front door, closing it behind her.
Ellen had made it to Finn’s place without incident; he had given her clear directions and it wasn’t hard to find. She just had to stay on the main road around the corner from his garage, all the way till she turned off into his street in Abbotsford. She parked out the front and climbed out of the car, peering up at the house. It was a charming little single-fronted weatherboard cottage, very neat and tidy; at least it appeared to be in the half-light of the street lamps. She walked up to the gate where a pebble path led to the front porch, flanked on either side by a clipped hedge. She had to admit she was a little surprised: somewhere in the back of her mind she’d imagined Finn living in an old fibro house with a great big yard full of old cars and spare parts and tyres. She could hear her sisters crying, ‘Snob!’ Maybe they were right.
Just then the front door opened. ‘Hey,’ Finn said, backlit by the light inside so that he was in silhouette. ‘I thought I heard a car.’
Ellen just gazed up at him, and all the sadness and fear and turmoil she’d been suppressing all day rose up, threatening to engulf her.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, stepping down off the threshold.
Ellen pushed through the gate and up the path to the steps, straight into his arms, where she collapsed into tears. She buried her face in his chest and he held her tight. ‘It’s okay, it’s going to be okay,’ he kept saying in a low voice, close to her ear. Eventually he drew her inside the house, closing the door behind them.
‘You’re freezing, Ellen,’ he said, taking her hands in his and rubbing them. ‘Didn’t you have a jacket or something warm?’
She shook her head. It had been one of those four-seasons-in-one spring days, quite balmy when she’d left the house this morning, but the wind had come up and it was getting chilly now. She hadn’t even thought to turn the heater on in the car, her mind had been on other things.
Finn was rubbing her arms now. ‘Are you hungry, do you want something to eat?’
‘No,’ she said wearily.
‘You look wrecked. Come in here and lie down for a while, let’s warm you up.’
Ellen let him lead her into the bedroom off the hall. He threw back the doona and she dropped gratefully onto the bed, utterly drained. Finn took her shoes off her feet, then he climbed onto the bed behind her and covered them both with the doona, spooning into her back. His body was warm, the doona cosy; Ellen felt as though she was enclosed in a cocoon.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Finn said after a while.
‘Hm . . .’ she murmured. ‘Emma’s refusing to have follow-up tests or any treatment until after the honeymoon. Liz said that’s too long to wait.’
‘Why won’t she listen to her? Liz is the doctor, isn’t she?’
‘She thinks we’re just trying to sabotage her wedding because we’re jealous.’
‘Seriously?’
‘It’s my fault. Oh, we’re all to blame in our different ways. But I never made it a secret that I thought she was frivolous, that what I did was so much more important, shaping young minds and all. And I had children of my own as well. What had she brought to the world?’
‘That’s not why this happened, Ellen.’
‘Maybe not, but if it’s even part of the reason she’s reacting this way, I’ll never forgive myself. The longer she waits, the greater the chance the cancer will spread, and Liz said when melanoma metastasises it’s terminal.’
‘You can’t blame yourself.’
‘I’ve just been wondering though,’ Ellen murmured, ‘the whole way here, how can I ever have treated her life as less important?’
Her voice caught in her throat, and Finn held her close as she wept quietly, until finally, overcome with exhaustion and grief, she drifted off to sleep.
As Evie approached the house, after walking for nearly an hour, she saw Craig’s car parked next to hers in the driveway. Bugger. She hadn’t thought about that, that he might get home before her. This would set him off.
She took a deep breath and walked determinedly up to the house, using her key to let herself in through the door.
‘Evie, is that you?’ he said, coming into the hall. ‘Where the hell have you been?’
She put the torch down on the hall table. ‘I went for a walk,’ she said calmly.
‘What the . . .?’ he said. ‘At this time of night? I’ve been worried out of my mind. Your car’s here, and your phone’s here, but you’re nowhere to be found.’
‘I needed to clear my head,’ she said, unzipping her hoodie without meeting his eyes. ‘Are the kids still awake?’ she said, heading for the stairs.
He grabbed her arm. She stopped, looking down at his hand and then back up at him, her expression defiant. He released her.
‘Emma has a melanoma,’ Evie said, lowering her voice.
‘What?’
‘She has skin cancer. It’s serious. So I needed to clear my head,’ she repeated the words slowly and firmly.
He was just staring at her. ‘Is she . . . are you all right?’
‘I’m going up to see the kids,’ she said, turning away and walking up the stairs.