Chapter 36
BETH
‘You’d better call the hospital,’ Justin says. ‘Look at this mess.’
I stare at the line of traffic jammed on the slip road leading to the motorway.
My fingers move before I can stop them. I scratch my arm.
The constant itching has become unbearable.
It rushes beneath my skin like tiny sparks that explode every couple of minutes.
He keeps telling me to stop it. But he doesn’t understand.
It’s impossible not to scratch, even though I know it’s making it ten times worse.
I knew this would happen if I reduced the meds as the consultant advised.
The revised dosage has sent me backwards.
I should’ve stood my ground. Told the consultant that it wasn’t what I wanted.
But it’s not just the meds. It’s the situation Justin has created at home – that’s what’s making it worse.
That girl in our home.
‘There must’ve been some kind of accident.’ Justin thumps his palm on the steering wheel. ‘There’s no way I’ll get you to your appointment on time. I’ll have to take the back roads. Call them. Tell them you’re going to be late.’
Sickness rises up the back of my throat. I reach into the footwell for my bag. ‘I can’t miss this appointment.’ I take out my phone and call the oncology ward. Justin swerves the car, shunting me sideways. My stomach lurches. I wish he would get rid of this car.
‘The council needs to do something about all these bloody potholes. And I need to get this car seen to again. The steering’s still not right.’
Hopefully, he’ll get another hire car like the bright red BMW the garage gave him recently when he took this damn car in to have the steering fixed.
A nurse finally answers my call. I relay what she tells me to Justin.
‘They said to get there as soon as we can. The treatment will still go ahead.’ I drop the phone in my lap.
‘Good.’ He takes the turning off the roundabout that leads to the winding country back roads to the hospital. ‘Stop scratching, Beth.’
‘I can’t help it,’ I cry out. ‘It’s hell.’ I throw my head against the seat and claw at the itching through my cardigan. ‘I’ve got to go back to the thirty-milligram dose. I should never have agreed to the decrease.’
‘You can’t. Not until we speak to the consultant.’
‘That won’t be until next week.’ The itching spreads to my shoulders. My nails tear at the skin.
He grabs my hand. ‘Beth, stop it. It’ll get infected.’
‘I can’t go through another day like this.’
He holds my hand, forcing me to stop scratching. ‘So – what about our anniversary? I was thinking about booking a hotel by the coast. Now we have Immy, we can take more breaks. It’s great to get some freedom back, isn’t it?’
I rip my hand away from his grasp and thump the dashboard. ‘You just don’t get it, do you?’
His eyebrows shoot up as he turns to look at me. ‘Get what?’
‘She’s trouble.’
‘We’ve been over this.’ He takes a deep breath and lets it out. ‘This is exactly why we have to resolve this medication issue. You’re seeing things that are simply not there.’
I pick up my phone and open the HomeWatch app for the camera Justin installed at the back of the house last summer – the one I told Immy didn’t exist. ‘Oh no!’ I cry out.
‘What?’
I turn the screen to him.
He slams on the brakes.
‘What have I been telling you?’ I say. ‘You’re so wrong about her.’