Page 37 of You Were Always the One

Outside, as I walk to my car, I call Rita. ‘You are not going to believe what’s happened.’ When I fill her in, there’s silence. ‘Are you still there?’ I ask.

‘Of course I am. Fuck, Holly. What a nightmare.’ She pauses. ‘I mean, poor Miles. And poor you. This is no walk in the park, is it?’

‘No. And it’s probably going to get worse. The likelihood is his tumour is malignant.’ I’ve seen enough brain cancer patients to have a good idea about how these things can go.

‘But you don’t know for sure,’ she says. ‘Do you?’

‘Not yet. We’ll know more a couple of weeks after his surgery.’ Then I tell her about seeing Riggs again. And again. ‘I was so sure that Miles was seeing someone else,’ I say. ‘It turns out his secrecy was about hiding his hospital appointments.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ Rita sounds suspicious. ‘I mean, firstly, it sounds insane that he’d hide it from you. If he was having surgery, he’d have had to tell you at some point. And you’re forgetting. He’s been acting oddly for months.’

It’s true. This goes back further than his doctor’s appointments. But given where we are now, it’s suddenly less important. ‘Right now, all I can think about is getting through the next week.’ I pause. ‘I still haven’t told the kids.’ And I’m dreading it. I’ve seen it too many times. Families – like Charley’s – having to cope with a cancer diagnosis.

‘The kids will be OK,’ Rita says. ‘I know they’ll be upset. But they’ll probably be worried about you, too.’

After the call ends, I think about what she said. I know Max and Grace will be shocked when I tell them. But another thought niggles at me. Would Miles have told me if there was someone? I gave him the perfect opportunity. But as I think back to the conversation we had, suddenly I’m not so sure.

Clouds blot out the sun as I drive home, arriving just before Max and Grace come in from a friend’s house. ‘How are you both?’

‘OK.’ Grace looks anxious. ‘Are we going to the hospital?’

‘No.’ I notice the relief wash over her face. ‘Max? Are you OK?’

‘Yeah.’ My happy biker boy of recent weekends has gone. In his place, a frightened teenager.

But I understand. What happened with Miles has upset all of us. The fact that he is distant making it all the more complicated. I cut some slices of cake and put the kettle on. ‘Come and sit down,’ I say, taking three cups of tea over to the table, waiting for them to sit down. ‘They know what’s wrong with Dad,’ I say quietly.

Grace’s eyes shift sharply to gaze at me; Max freezes.

‘He has a brain tumour,’ I say, knowing I’m taking away everything they’ve taken for granted. That certainty and unquestioned security no longer exist in their world. ‘He’s having an operation on Wednesday to remove it.’

Grace gasps. ‘Will he be OK?’ Her eyes fill with tears.

‘He’ll feel better once it’s done. They need to do some tests once they’ve removed the tumour. But we won’t get the results for a week or two,’ I say.

‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ Max says angrily. ‘We have every right to know, Mum.’

I understand his anger. After all, it was how I felt. ‘Because I didn’t know either.’

‘He didn’t tell you?’ Max looks disbelieving.

‘No.’ I shrug. ‘I suppose you have to put yourself in your dad’s shoes. It isn’t easy to talk about something like this.’

‘He still should have.’ Max’s voice is mutinous. ‘We’re his family.’

‘I agree. He should have.’ There are no excuses. Max is right. Unless as Rita suggested, there’s something else that Miles is hiding. ‘But we know now. Dad should be discharged tomorrow. Then next Wednesday, he has to go to a hospital in London. The operation is on Thursday. They’ll keep him in for a while. Then he’ll be able to come home.’

‘But he’s going to get better.’ Max’s face is white.

I sigh. ‘At the moment, the doctors don’t know what kind of tumour it is.’ I don’t tell them what the likelihood is. I only give them facts.

‘Does he know you’ve told us?’ Max asks.

I nod. ‘I asked him if he wanted me to. There are no more secrets,’ I tell them. ‘And if there’s anything you want to know, you can always ask.’

A sob erupts from Grace. ‘Is he going to die?’

My heart twists for my daughter. ‘It’s possible to live for years with some brain tumours. It depends on what they find when they operate.’ I pause. ‘Dad is relatively young – and healthy in every other way. He has a good chance of coming through this.’