Change of Life (32 page)

He had begged to be allowed to come to the flat that afternoon. He had spent the morning cleaning out the fish tank so that Adam would be pleased with the level of care the fish had received from him. Although he didn’t say so, I knew he was hoping Adam would come home that day. I almost gave in and let Max come. But I sensed that just meeting with me and Rosie, with Jenny there in support, would be quite enough for Adam at this point.

Sam and my mother made lunch for us all, but I could hardly eat anything. Then I couldn’t wait any longer. It was ridiculously early but I had to get on the road, so Jenny and I set off for Edinburgh. In the end it had been decided that Jenny would meet Adam in town and they’d come to the flat together – it was the arrangement Adam was most comfortable with. I would go straight to the flat after I dropped Jenny in the city centre.

As I’d hoped, the sun had come through and it was a warm afternoon. I opened the windows and sun roof as soon as I started the car. As Jenny got in, the sun shone in her eyes, and she swept her long, fair hair back from her face as she searched in her bag for her sunglasses. She looked so like Rosie that it knocked the breath out of me.

“What?” she said, as she caught me staring at her.

“Oh nothing – it’s just – well – you’re a beautiful young woman, Jennifer McAllister and I love you.” I leant over and kissed the top of her head.

“Och, Dad – you’re a soppy git,” she said, smiling. “Give me a big Daddy hug.” This was something she used to say a lot when she was little, but it was quite a while since she’d last said it. I was happy to oblige.

“It’s going to be okay, Dad,” she said.

I tried to relax as we approached Edinburgh. It wasn’t easy. I dropped Jenny off and, before I knew it I was walking up the path to the flat.

It was Rick who opened the door. “Tom, good to see you,” he said, extending a hand.

How could I have forgotten him? But I had. In my daydreams about reconciliation with Rosie I’d not factored Rick in. How stupid could you get?

“Eh, yes, hi,” I said, shaking his hand quickly, as much to displace the urge to punch him as any attempt to be polite. I didn’t really stop to look at him. I just wanted to see Rosie.

I went through to the front room. And there she was. Rosie, sitting in an armchair with her feet tucked up under her. She was looking down at a book in her lap. She wore a dress, long and loose, made of some sort of light,
floaty
material and on her head she had a little blue hat with an upturned brim. She looked up as I came in and got to her feet.

“Hello, Tom.” She smiled at me. She looked so lovely. My need to hold her was even more intense than the last time I’d been there. I wanted to pick her up and carry her off. But all I could do was gaze at her. She was so familiar and yet so strange. It reminded me of the first time I saw her, this mixture of familiarity and strangeness. I was scared to speak.

Rosie took a step towards me. “Tom?” she said, looking puzzled. “Tom, are you okay?”

She was standing very close now. I inhaled her scent. Christ – how I wanted her. She put a hand on my arm. She looked up into my face.

Tentatively, I put my hand to her cheek. It was cool and soft.

“Rosie,” I said. It came out as a whisper. I cleared my throat. It felt as if she leant her face, just ever so slightly, against my hand. She closed her eyes briefly. She opened them again and looked right into mine. With my heart pounding, I contemplated kissing her.

Then Rick was there in the doorway. “I’ll get away, Rosie. I’ll be back to make us some dinner. See you later.” He looked at me. “Tom – take care – great news about Adam by the way.”

I didn’t really want to answer him. But I made the effort. After all, I wanted to impress Rosie with how reasonable I could be. “Yeah, thanks.” Despite my endeavours it still came out grudgingly and I was aware of my free hand tightening into a fist.

If Rick noticed my barely suppressed aggression, he didn’t seem in the least fazed by it. He turned back to Rosie. “Hope it goes okay,” he said.

“Thanks, Rick. See you later,” Rosie replied, smiling at him, as she stepped back from me.

I wanted so much to hit him. “He’s still here then?” I said, as the front door closed behind him. I couldn’t help myself – so much for trying to impress Rosie.

“Clearly,” Rosie replied. “Look – please, Tom - don’t start. Sit down – please.”

I bit back what I wanted to say and sat down opposite her. She was right of course. Today was not about Rick Montgomery and his relationship with my wife.

“Oh, by the way,” I said, reaching into my pocket. “These are for you.” I held out a couple of packets of Starburst sweets. “The kids told me you’ve developed a liking for them.”

She laughed as she took them from me. “Thank you – yeah – they’re one of the few things I can eat with any pleasure – most stuff tastes like
its been
dipped in metal or has no taste at all.”

“So - how are you, Rosie?” I asked, as we both sat down.

“I’m okay – you know – as well as can be expected – as they say. I just had my fourth dose of chemo – a few days ago. So this is a tough week. It’s a two week cycle – get chemo, feel grim for a week, recover during week two,
feel
almost human and then it’s the next dose. Still, I’m saving a fortune in shampoo and conditioner.”

“It must be hard going. Have you lost it all?” I asked, pointing to her head.

“Oh yes,” she nodded and removed her hat. “Look.”

I couldn’t help myself. I gasped. She was completely bald.

“I know,” she said. “Scary, isn’t it?” She rubbed her head with her hand. She smiled and added, “Max said I looked like an alien at first,
then
he said I looked like the robot in that film ‘I, Robot’. His latest comparison is to the person in the Munch painting – you know – the Scream. None are very flattering!”

I smiled back at her.
“Typical Max.”

“Yes, he thinks I should wear the wig at all times.”

“But you don’t like it?”

“There’s nothing really wrong with it. It’s realistic enough and everything, but it makes my head hot and itchy. I prefer hats and scarves if I want to cover up. Jenny and Sam have been lovely about it. They’ve bought me a couple of hats and a pretty scarf as well. They tell me I look cool. They’re probably just being nice, but I choose to believe them.”

“You look fine,” I said. “It’s a shock at first, that’s all.”

“I was so scared of losing my hair. It scared me as much as the cancer at first, if I’m honest, but now I’m used to it. And do you know the really annoying thing about it?”

“What?” I asked.

“I still have to shave my legs – those hairs are unaffected!” She laughed. It was a lovely sound. I laughed with her.

“And what are the doctors saying - about how you’re doing?”

“Oh, Angus Campbell is usually upbeat and reassuring. He’s pleased with how the surgery went. The scar is healing well. I lost the whole breast – which is – well it’s been difficult – you know?” She swallowed.

I so wanted to reach out and touch her,
but ...

“But it could have been worse,” she continued, “at least it doesn’t seem to have spread - and I have my prosthesis to balance things up. I might have a reconstruction later.”

I could only nod.

“Anyway, the main thing is the tumour’s gone,” she went on, “so, I suppose - so far so good. Amanda Knox – the oncologist – she never gives much away. She just keeps saying
it’s
early days. Once the chemo’s over they want me to have radiotherapy.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” I said. “They should throw everything they’ve got at it. What sort of tumour was it – if I’m allowed to ask?”

“Of course you can ask!”

“I don’t want you to think I’m asking so I can go and question your doctors – you know – take over – like you were afraid I’d do.”

She looked away for a moment before she answered. “I’m sorry, Tom – I’m sorry –the way I told you – it was cruel. I should have told you about the cancer right at the start – it seems a bit daft now – but I felt it was my battle, my body and I wanted to do it my way.”

“And now, Rosie, how do you feel now? Can you share any of it with me now?” Of course I wanted to ask her so much more. Like – was she coming home and how did she feel about me? Could she forgive me? Would she listen to my story? But I somehow managed to hold back.

She bit her lip and took a steadying breath. “I’ve got a fairly aggressive version, but it was caught at stage two and there is no sign of any spread to the lymph nodes or anywhere else at the moment. So, if the chemo does its job and if I have the radiotherapy and drug treatment afterwards, it seems I have a fairly good chance of survival. Of course, they can’t promise anything but, as Angus Campbell says, none of us has any guarantee of a ripe old age.”

“Thanks for telling me.” My voice was a croak. I fought to hold myself together. I cleared my throat. “I’ve been wondering, you know, about the medical nitty-gritty – the occupational hazard you were afraid of, I know. But it sounds like your medical team are on top of it.”

She smiled again. “I’ll tell them you said so. They’ll be relieved to hear it.” I knew she was teasing me. I smiled back weakly.

I was restless. I was enjoying being with Rosie but my nerves were shredded. The combination of trying to say the right things, of listening to Rosie talk about her illness and anticipating Adam’s arrival, made me shaky in a way I never was with a scalpel in my hand. I suggested a cup of tea. Rosie said she’d love one. She looked tired already.

Once I was back with the tea, which I noticed she didn’t touch, we talked about Adam and about Jenny, Robbie and Eilidh all rallying round in support. Rosie told me that, according to Kirsty, Robbie and Eilidh had been on a couple of dates. I told her a bit more about Robbie and how we were getting along well and she seemed pleased. She also seemed as excited and apprehensive as I was about seeing Adam. She got up periodically to look out of the window for him.

Watching her looking out, scanning the street for our son, I was uncomfortably aware of my part in Adam’s leaving. “I’m sorry, Rosie,” I said. “Sorry I caused Adam all this anxiety and then didn’t exactly reassure him when he needed it. I’ve let you both down - I know - but I am sorry. I want to put it right. There’s other stuff I need to tell you - about Robbie and Heather and – everything.”

“It’s not all your fault, Tom – I didn’t exactly handle Adam’s distress well either – and, yes, we do need to talk –and we will, I promise – but not today – today is about Adam.” As she finished speaking she put her hand up to her mouth. She looked very pale.

“Sorry,” she said through clenched teeth. “Sick!”

I jumped up and went towards her. She got to her feet. I put out my arm to help her and she threw up down the front of my shirt.

“Sorry,” she said again. And then she fled from the room. As I peeled off my shirt I heard the bathroom door clatter against the wall. I went after her. She was crouched over the toilet. I knelt down beside her and rubbed her back as she vomited. She retched violently and not always productively. Then, at last, I could feel her body relax. She leant back against me. I got hold of a face flannel from the side of the bath. I managed to dampen it under the wash hand basin tap without having to completely leave my position beside her on the floor.

“Here,” I said and she turned her face towards me. She was still very pale. I gently wiped her face with the flannel while supporting her in the crook of my arm. She rested there for a few minutes, her head against my chest. We didn’t speak.

It was me who broke the silence. “Better?”

“Yes, sorry about that,” she said, turning her head to look directly at me. She put her hand flat on my chest.
“Sorry about your shirt too.”
She smiled, even managed a little laugh. “But you did step into the firing line.” She continued to look at me. I held her gaze. I felt like I had lost the power to breath. Rosie this close, even in these circumstances, I was lost.