Chapter 14
Cath found the wait excruciating. Being asked back in for results was, in her experience, never a good sign.
She was pacing the hospital corridor whilst Will spoke to his doctor.
Though Cath had offered to be there by his side, Will had wanted to face this one alone, heading into the consultant’s room by himself.
The past couple of weeks had been tough.
And since the wonderfully uplifting beach bungalow paella day, Cath and Will had had to plough on at work and at home, until the scan day finally arrived.
Both of them hoping against hope that all would be well, and that this nightmare they’d suddenly been plunged into would end. But that wasn’t to be.
After that, the biopsy had come next, and again, yet more days to get through.
More nights at Cath’s in each other’s arms, words often failing them.
Cath couldn’t help but notice that Will didn’t seem to want to be intimate in his own home, not more than a brief kiss and a cuddle.
Perhaps the ghost of Jane, and his family ties felt so strong there, that it still seemed inappropriate for him, somehow.
And then, he’d had to deal with presenting cheery-faced video calls to his girls, trying hard to hide any trace of his fears or this dilemma he was facing.
He was determined to protect them for as long as he could.
Cath could understand that, respecting his decision, especially after all they had been through as a family, but she couldn’t help but think that if she was in his daughters’ position then she’d have wanted to know.
And unable to offload her stress and fears in a private chat perhaps with her sister, steadfastly keeping her promise to keep Will’s health scare as a secret until they knew the outcome either way, the tension for them both had been palpable throughout.
And here they were. The outcome imminent. What kind of conversation was going on between those consulting room walls? A relieved or extremely difficult one?
The sound of a door opening from along the corridor.
Cath was on high alert. Oh, here he was.
Will was coming out. His face looked pale.
Her heart felt all jittery. The sucky swish of his trainers on the grey lino floor filled the corridor as he approached, sounding very much like the swishing of her own stomach.
Cath was trying to read his facial expression, his posture. If anything, he appeared rather dazed. He wasn’t smiling. Oh dear God, please let him be all right.
She stood up instinctively as he neared, focusing on his beautiful hazel eyes, afraid of the words that might come next.
‘Wi-ill.’ His name caught in her throat. It came out sounding like a question.
He pursed his lips before starting to speak, ‘It’s cancer, Cath. I’ve got it. I’ve got prostate cancer. Stage T2.’
‘Oh my God, Will.’ The ‘C’ word snatched her breath away. No, not her gorgeous Will. And oh, dear God, not after everything he and his family had already been through. It seemed too cruel.
She took him into her arms.
As she held him, her mind was buzzing: What did that even mean, T2?
And what did this diagnosis mean for him?
What next? But she sensed this was not the moment to quiz.
The questions, and some answers, would come soon enough.
Time seemed to stand still for a few seconds.
They hugged in this starkly-lit, white-walled hospital corridor, with other patients sat waiting their turn, a nurse walking purposefully by, clinging on to each other like they were clinging on to hope.
As they finally shifted apart, Will took a long, slow breath.
It was evident he was struggling to take this in, trying to work out how to process, to deal with, this shocking news.
His voice trembled as he finally spoke, ‘I-I don’t know how I’m going to tell them, Cath.
I can’t do this to them … not all over again. ’
And she knew exactly who he meant. His girls. They were still reeling from the bomb of their mum’s death, after all. And now this … Cath’s heart felt sore for him, for them. At this moment, life seemed too bloody unfair. How could it be happening again to this grief-stricken family?
‘I know, my love … we’ll find a way,’ she tried to soothe him with her words, but it was as though he’d hardly heard them.
A fucker of a cancer curveball had hurtled in.
The impact of this frightening diagnosis was about to crash with wider consequences.
Despite her personal fears – and she really didn’t want to allow those thoughts headspace right now – she needed to step up and be strong for Will, for his family.
As of today, there was a whole new future to face.
First, they needed to head back, to get Will home. ‘Come on, let’s go back to the car.’
Cath was glad she’d been the one driving, as Will seemed in shock. He was almost too quiet as they took the lift down; Will clutching a couple of leaflets, she noticed, one of them from Prostate Cancer UK, another Macmillan Cancer Support. It was all so hard to take in.
They’d talk later, process this more, when Will was ready.
When the initial thoughts and fears had had time to settle.
Dammit, she wished she’d gone in with him now, but he’d insisted on facing the consultant and his diagnosis alone.
They were at such an early stage in their relationship, they weren’t married, weren’t even living together, and she hadn’t forced the issue.
But this was the kind of news you needed someone by your side for. Well, she was here now.
Cool fresh air hit them at the atrium glass door exit. Will paused.
‘You feeling okay?’ she asked.
‘Bit sick, sort of giddy … I’ll be all right to get to the car.’
She was feeling that, too. A bit spaced out. Like she was here, but also that she was watching it all unfurl like a movie … a nightmare.
‘I can’t stop thinking about the kids.’
‘Oh, Will.’ She held his hand as they weaved through a trail of slow traffic, that seemed to be kerb crawling but were actually hunting free spaces, into the row of parked cars where Cath remembered hers was. It was a relief to reach the Mini, and sit down. It felt familiar, safe.
Taking a slow breath, and deciding that she was okay to drive, she announced, ‘Let’s go.’
Will merely nodded, and off they set. Words failed them for a while. There was enough going on in their heads with trying to absorb this news, that chitchat seemed both irrelevant and irreverent. Cath focused on the drive, navigating the busy Newcastle City bypass, aware she was still reeling.
Fifty minutes later, driving over the brow of the hill, with the country landscape rolling like a patchwork of fields before them, and the Cheviot Hills in the distance, they could see Tilldale nestled in the valley. It felt a relief to be home.
Back in the village, they parked roadside and headed into Will’s semi-detached house. Into this home, that had already witnessed so much pain and grief.
Cancer, it was real. Will had cancer. Cath felt haunted by the thought. He seemed so healthy, so vital. He’d only had the mildest of symptoms, and there she was, thinking he’d had a virus or was overdoing the cycling.
As they took off shoes in the hallway, unsure what to do next, Cath offered, ‘Umm, shall I make us some coffee?’ You had this seismic news, and then you didn’t know what the hell to do with it.
‘Yeah, please.’
In the kitchen, the everyday task helped shift her focus for a short while.
She’d make it strong; they certainly needed that.
Froth up some milk. She’d been there enough to know how to work his fancy coffee machine.
A rhythmic hum filled the kitchen, as it filtered through, along with the whizzing sound of the milk spinner.
She took the two filled cups, and found Will sitting on the sofa in the living room, head in hands. He looked up, rubbed the salt-and-pepper hair at his temples, and reached for his coffee, muttering, ‘Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome. Better than the hospital stuff.
’ The hospital … and why they’d been there swamped their minds.
They’d persevered in the waiting area, with a thin plastic cup of instant coffee from a corridor vending machine.
It had been pretty tasteless. The only thing comforting about it had been the warmth.
‘Will, I’m so sorry it was bad news.’ She sat down beside him on the sofa, consciously leaving a few centimetres between them, giving him a little space.
‘Yeah, bit of a shock. I’m the healthy guy. All the cycling, I don’t smoke, don’t drink that much, eat pretty well. I feel fine. It seems crazy.’ He was shaking his head.
‘Yeah, it does. But at least it seems like you’ve caught it early. What did the consultant say exactly? You mentioned Type T2?’ Now seemed a better time for those questions.
She so wished she’d been in the room with him. She could have listened on his behalf, taken things in, made notes even, as his world had folded in like a pack of cards.
‘Well, it’s not the worst type, thank God. There’s one to four. Two means the cancer’s contained within the prostate, and not spread.’
‘Okay, well, that’s hopeful, I guess.’
‘Yeah, guess I got lucky.’ He sounded bitter, sarcastic even. ‘Sorry,’ he added swiftly, looking up at her, confusion and pain in his eyes. ‘I didn’t mean that. There’ll be lots of others having this conversation, who aren’t so lucky.’ He paused, sighed heavily, then took a sip of coffee. ‘Jeez.’
‘So, what happens next?’ she gently probed.
‘Umm, I need to have a more detailed talk, soon, with the team … multidisciplinary or something. We then decide whether we go for surgery or radiotherapy as the first option. There was also something about active watching – keeping an eye on it. That’s not going to happen here.
I want it out. It’s fucking cancer, it’s going … ’
‘Yeah.’ Cath nodded, understanding that he’d want to do everything he could to get rid of this tumour as soon as possible. Taking no chances that it might spread.
‘There are loads of possible side-effects to consider, too. It was hard to take it all in … There’s a letter they gave me. A website too. It’ll all be in there, I suppose.’
‘Okay, so we can look at all that. Get the information we need.’ Cath’s tone remained calm, even though she was tearing up inside for him.
He held her gaze with a haunted look. ‘Cath, I can’t tell the girls, not yet.’
‘I do think they’ll need to know, Will … they’d want to support you.’ They were adults, and this was their much-loved dad.
‘I know, I know, but not now. Not yet. Sophie’s got her big law exam coming up. Her degree hangs on this. I-I can’t do this to her, not again. She’s already had her A levels wrecked.’ He sighed heavily, exasperated by the position he found himself in.
‘Yeah, I understand that, but I do feel that they’d want to know … to help. To be there for you.’ Cath tried. It was such a big thing to keep from them.
‘Leave it, Cath,’ he snapped. ‘We need to keep this to ourselves for now. And yeah, maybe later, when her exam is done, maybe then it’ll be better news.
Once it’s gone, once it’s removed. I’ll have the surgery …
We can tell the girls, then. In a couple more weeks. ’ He was determined to protect them.
‘But surely, they’ll want to know that you’re about to undergo surgery, if that’s the way it goes?’
His face was fixed, his decision too. ‘No, there’s no way I’m jeopardising Sophie’s exam. And if Sophie can’t know, then neither can Maddie.’
‘All right, of course, it’s your decision. Your family.’ God, this was so difficult, but she had to concede. ‘I can see your point with exams involved. Though I bet the girls will be bloody cross with you, once they find out that you’ve been holding back on this.’
‘Probably, but that’s nothing new, me doing something to annoy them … and hey, we can cross that bridge when we come to it.’ He managed a wry smile.
‘Oh, Will.’ Cath leaned in beside him, closing the gap between them on the sofa.
His arm came around her, and they sat side by side, battered by worry and shock, and yet harboured by the warmth of their love.
‘We’ll get through this. We will. Together.
’ Cath’s voice held strong, in a world that had just turned upside down.