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‘You don’t even want to know what the event is?’ he teased.
‘I hadn’t thought to ask,’ Evelyn replied honestly. ‘I just liked the idea of spending time with you.’ She blushed slightly, endearing her to him all the more. ‘But now I’m intrigued.’
‘It’s another fundraising event, to support taking art and classical dance into the wider, urban community.’
‘Wow, that sounded almost rehearsed,’ Evelyn teased gently.
‘To be honest, it is a bit. I feel like I’ve been hearing about it all year. I’m supporting a friend. He’s an Event Designer.’
‘That’s not a term I’ve heard before.’
‘I think he’s created the role himself, to be honest. It seems to be something between an event planner, a graphic designer and an interior decorator with all the stress and craziness that involves. From what he’s told me, it’s part gala, part show. I just did as I was told and paid for the tickets.’
‘Just to support your friend. That’s so sweet.’
‘It’ll be better with you by my side. And I’d like to introduce you to Nick. He’s practically family – and you’ve already met all the others.’
‘That sounds lovely. Let me know the dates, and I’ll ask Mum,’ she promised happily.
But it was a promise she’d never be able to keep, because a couple of days later, Summer collapsed at school.
Chapter Ten
Evelyn pulled her car into the parking bay, and took a deep breath as she looked up at the looming green and white building of the hospital. The cheerful colours of the logo did nothing to lift her mood, and the glossy metal and glass did nothing to reassure her as she strode through the far too familiar corridors. Her uniform helped her fit in, even though she was only wearing it to reassure Summer – lying to her that she was just at work, while really she was far, far north, about to have a conversation that made her stomach churn and palms sweat. She’d told no one where she was going.
Evelyn had been running on automatic since the call from the school. Her blood had run cold as the teacher explained, in a shaking voice, that Summer had seemed fine most of the day, but seemed distracted and a little out of sorts after lunch, and then collapsed at carpet time.
Evelyn didn’t feel like she’d warmed up since. If anything, the cold had sunken deeper with every blood test, scan and investigative procedure Summer had undergone. Some of them were with Tom Macpearson at the surgery, and others at the local hospital, with all the results carefully collated and sent to Mr Khan at the Great North.
When he’d called her yesterday to offer her an appointment – a week ahead of the one she’d originally made – she’d felt as if she’d frozen solid. Of course he hadn’t said anything over the phone, and there was every chance the earlier appointment had just been the result of a cancellation or a scheduling change. But she’d known him for so long, and been through so much of Summer’s treatment with him, that she thought she’d heard something in his voice – a hesitation or note of forced politeness perhaps – that had set her so far on edge she was barely hanging on.
The colourful cartoons and cheerful uniforms seemed too bright and too forced as she sat shivering in the waiting room, desperate for the appointment to start and at the same time dreading it. After what could have been minutes or hours, the consulting room door finally creaked open, and Evelyn felt her pulse start to stutter and race.
‘Evelyn.’ He’d called her by her first name since the very first appointment when she’d told him that with the amount of time they were likely to spend together, they should be on first name terms. ‘Come on through.’
‘How bad is it?’ Manners be damned, she couldn’t wait a second longer.
‘It’s not good.’ He sighed hugely and took his glasses off. ‘The original tumour is gone, but there’s another one, this time in the spinal cord.’
‘But she had blood work recently. It all came back fine,’ Evelyn argued, knowing they must have made a mistake. Summer couldn’t possibly have a tumour in her spine. ‘You have to be wrong, Imran.’
‘I’m sorry, Evelyn. I checked the scans myself. It’s there.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘It must have been residual cells. We knew this was a risk when we couldn’t complete the last carboplatin cycle.’
‘So we’ll go back to the cyclophosphamide, or the cisplatin.’
‘Evelyn, we talked about this at the time.’ He kept his voice calm and patient. ‘The cisplatin is basically chemically the same as the carbo. The reaction could kill her outright. And we only started on the platinum therapies when the phosphomides stopped working.’
‘But it’s a different tumour.’
‘We’ve looked at the biopsies and ran the sensitivity tests. It’s in a different place, but it’s the same cancer. I’m sorry, Evelyn.’
‘So we’ll operate.’ Evelyn made her mind up. Summer would be fine. She’d been fine before.
‘I’ve consulted with the surgeons to be sure. They don’t believe they can safely operate.’
Evelyn shrugged. ‘No operation is safe, I understand that.’
‘Evelyn.’ He leaned forward and took her hand in his, and Evelyn looked down, surprised at the gesture. ‘I need you to hear me, even though I know you don’t want to. The surgeons aren’t happy to operate.’
