Chapter 21
Bristol
Jamie had spent the last week up at Elstree Studios, recording a new sports quiz. The days had been long and the evenings in the hotel bar rowdily sociable.
Now, the rain was hammering on the roof of his car as he headed west down the motorway at midnight.
By the time he arrived back in Clifton, Leon would most likely be fast asleep, and at a guess Fen would be there with him, because they were still at the can’t-bear-to-be-separated phase and the Clifton duplex apartment was evidently far larger than Fen’s basement flat in Redland.
But when he let himself in an hour later and pushed open the door to the living room, Fen was asleep under a spare duvet on the sofa.
Jamie paused, his breath catching in his throat at the unexpected sight of her, at the curve of her cheek and the sweep of her lashes beneath closed eyelids.
Did this mean the two of them had had a monumental argument?
Leon wasn’t a snorer, so it couldn’t be that.
And if it was due to an argument, what had it been about? Surely not anything serious—
Sensing his presence, Fen’s eyes snapped open, her head lifting from the pillow. ‘Oh, it’s you. Thank goodness.’
‘What? Why?’ He left his case by the door and moved closer. ‘What’s happened? Where’s Leon?’
‘Upstairs in bed.’ Pulling herself into a sitting position, Fen rubbed her face and shook back her hair.
‘I’m worried about him. Something’s wrong but he won’t do anything about it.
Those bruises have gone, but he’s in way more pain than before.
It’s like he’s got flu and his whole body aches, but it doesn’t seem like flu and he keeps saying it’ll be better tomorrow.
Except it’s getting worse and he can’t sleep properly, just groans all the time because every time he moves, he wakes himself up.
He’s not eating either. Why won’t men ever admit they’re ill?
It’s crazy, all he does is knock painkillers back like Smarties and tell me he’s fine, when he so obviously isn’t fine.
You’ll have to back me up, make him see sense .
. .’ She tailed off at the sound of footsteps slowly descending the stairs.
Leon appeared, looking drawn and visibly unwell. ‘Thought I heard voices. How was London?’
‘You look terrible.’ Narrowing his eyes at him, Jamie came straight to the point. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Don’t you start. I’m OK, it’s a pinched nerve in my back or something.’ Leon grimaced as he bent to pick up a blister pack of painkillers from the coffee table. His jaw tightened when he turned it over and saw it was empty.
‘You aren’t OK. Look at you. And what’s happened to your face?’ Seeing him every day, Fen evidently hadn’t noticed, but it was immediately apparent to Jamie, who’d been away for over a week, that Leon had lost weight.
‘I’m not feeling great, that’s all. Haven’t been eating much.’
‘Get your coat.’
With a flicker of humour, Leon said, ‘Why? Have I pulled?’
‘I’m taking you to A Jamie had known he wouldn’t want to worry his parents unnecessarily.
‘Jamie’s my oldest friend. My best friend,’ Leon amended. Poor sod, he hadn’t been expecting to have to deal with something like this.
‘I’ll do anything that needs doing.’ Jamie was nodding at the consultant.
Feeling his head swim, as if his brain no longer belonged to him, Leon said, ‘Except choose my coffin. If you put me in a purple coffin, I’ll kill you.’
The consultant took this in his stride, evidently used to hearing inappropriate humour in times of stress. ‘You’ll need to let your family know.’
‘I know.’ Leon nodded; this was what he’d been dreading. ‘I will.’
‘And if you have any more questions at all, speak to the nurses on the ward. Or to any of the medical team.’
‘Right.’
‘I know it’s a lot to take in.’
Leon indicated the beige wall behind the consultant’s head. ‘That painting up there is crooked. It’s really annoying.’
He was definitely in shock.
The older man rose to his feet, then turned and carefully straightened the framed seascape. ‘Better?’
Leon attempted to picture his future, such as it was. No wedding, no children, potentially no more holidays or birthdays or Christmases. No growing old or even middle-aged.
He nodded at the man who’d passed sentence on him and said, ‘Much better. Thanks.’
But when the consultant had departed and it was just the two of them left in the room, Leon looked at Jamie and saw his own state of shock reflected back at him.
‘So it looks like the show’s over before it’s even begun.’ His voice sounded different, as if it no longer belonged to him. ‘Fuck.’
‘Fuck,’ said Jamie.
Fen had spent most of the previous day at the hospital while Leon had been undergoing a slew of tests, and the last thing she wanted to do was leave him today, but she had a two-hour meeting arranged with a business owner who’d driven down from Sheffield to speak to her in person.
Working as a remote personal assistant often meant never meeting your clients face to face, but this particular woman had insisted on it to discuss the potential arrangement.
And the contract would be an important one, so postponing it hadn’t been an option.
When she finally arrived back on the ward, the nurse at the desk said, ‘He’s outside in the garden with Jamie.’
But when she found them sitting together on a bench, with Leon’s wheelchair parked close by, the looks on their faces when they saw her making her way towards them chilled her to the bone.
‘What is it?’ The creeping dread that had been steadily escalating over the last two days felt as if it was now closing around her throat in an iron grip.
Jamie rose to his feet, indicating for her to take his place. ‘I’m going to grab a coffee. Give me a call if you need anything.’
When Jamie had left, Leon took her hand in his.
‘What’s happened?’
‘I’ve seen Dr Emerson.’
‘And?’ Don’t want to hear this, don’t want to hear it.
After a long moment, he said, ‘Think of really bad news. Then multiply it.’ He swallowed audibly, unable to carry on, and she knew it was what they’d all been inwardly dreading.
Squeezing his hand, she blurted out, ‘If it’s cancer, we’ll get through this. Millions of people have cancer and beat it. If anyone can, it’s you, and I know the treatment can be rough, but we’ll be with you every step of—’
‘There isn’t going to be any treatment.’ This time his voice cracked with emotion, the words catching in his throat. ‘Because there’s nothing they can do.’
‘No . . . no, that can’t be right. There’s always something.’