‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Oh, Mona, it’s you.’ Her mother looked pleased to see her. ‘I expect you’re here to find out what Dr McCallum had to say today.’
Mona felt a pang of guilt as she followed her mother into the house. She’d completely forgotten about the appointment. ‘Yes, of course. What did he say?’
‘Come on through and sit down.’ Her mother waited until she was settled before she spoke again. ‘It’s not the best of news, I’m afraid. The cancer is spreading. You need to be prepared.’
Mona stared at her mother.
Her mother looked slightly exasperated. ‘You do understand what I’m trying to tell you?’
‘You are going to die.’ A lump was forming in the back of her throat. Growing up she had never been particularly close to her mother; she’d been a daddy’s girl through and through, to the extent of following him into the police. But since her father’s death, and particularly over the past few months, they’d grown closer. The thought of losing her mother, her only remaining relative, filled her with dread.
‘We’re all going to die, Mona. But in my case it won’t be that long. I’m sure you’re not entirely surprised.’
‘I knew it was a possibility, but still . . .’
Her mother sat next to her on the sofa, and took her hand. ‘Mona, I want you settled before I’m gone. I know I’m not going to get a son-in-law, and a couple of grandchildren, because that is not your inclination, and that is fine by me. But I’d like to think that you were at least in some kind of relationship, not going home to an empty flat every night.’
‘It’s complicated.’
‘Is it? It doesn’t seem that complicated to me. You need to go out and socialise, and find someone you like and settle down. That is simple enough in my opinion. And it seems to me that the first step is that you actually tell people you are a lesbian.’
‘I’m not sure if I’m ready to, Mum.’
‘Mona, you’re twenty-nine years of age. When exactly are you going to be ready? Because you’ll never meet a nice girl if nobody knows you’re available.’
Mona smiled. ‘Shall I stick the kettle on?’
‘Indeed you will not. This is my house and while I’ve still got breath in my body I’ll be the hostess.’
In spite of the brave words, Mona’s mother struggled a little to get back out of the chair. Mona took her arm and helped her through to the kitchen. ‘I just wanted to tell you, Mum, that I’ll be away for a few days with work, but you can get me on my mobile.’
Her mother pulled a face. ‘I hate those things. Write your number out for me and leave it by the phone. And don’t waste your time worrying about me, because I’ll be fine.’ She took Mona’s hand again, and held it to her face. ‘You’re the one that I worry about. Promise me you’ll think about what I said.’
She nodded. ‘I will.’