‘This isn’t about me, Charlotte. A good counsellor never brings themselves into the conversation. I’m here to help you work out what’s best for you.’
‘But… if you were given the choice, what would you do? Would you wait? How long?’
There was a very long pause as Erika rested her chin on her fists and clearly struggled to find an appropriate answer. In the end she just sighed. ‘Off the record, I’d get it done as soon as I could. Is there any way you could bring forward your family plans?’
The pain, which she was now experiencing throughout her body, intensified into panic. She and Ben were barely even speaking, never mind having sex. He’d been a stickler for the five-year plan, bordering on obsessive. He’d got it all worked out. And she’d come here without him knowing.
She wanted to rewind the clock back to last week. To not have come here at all. To live in blissful ignorance for the next few years instead of in a blind panic. Boobless. Ovary-less. Childless. ‘I don’t know. I’m getting married in a few weeks.’ Her mind was reeling. ‘He doesn’t… we’re not really… oh, I don’t know. Yes, I suppose so. Yes, I think so. If it’s now or never then I’m sure my fiancé would agree that we start a family soon.’
‘Well, that’s a conversation you need to have, along with this news. It’s not all doom and gloom – you have information in your armoury now. Choices.’
‘Choices?’ She wanted to stamp her feet and shout. No, she wanted to scream. These weren’t the kinds of choices she wanted. She wanted the most difficult choice she ever faced to be whether to have cornflower-blue or palest-pink napkins. She wanted to have to choose between Italy and France for a holiday. She wanted to have to choose Prosecco over chardonnay, cheese over chocolate cake.
Not when to have her boobs taken off.
Not whether to have kids now or never.
Not when to tell her birth mother she might be too late to stop things.
Not when the best time would be to tell her mother, her fiancé, her friends about this… this nightmare.
‘Yes, think of it positively.’ Erika seemed quite animated now, as if this was a gift she was bestowing. ‘You can act and save yourself from a lot of heartache along the line. Make time to talk it through carefully with him, let him read this leaflet and, if you want to, you can both come and see me here any time.’
‘Yes. Okay.’ But that was going to be easier said than done.
Because how the hell was she going to tell Ben? Make him go through this all over again, and more… so much more… when she’d gone behind his back and come for the test in the first place?
Chapter Eleven
‘You have what?’ Lissa’s hands were wrapped around a coffee cup as they sat in very uncomfortable straight-backed wooden chairs in a café opposite the clinic.
After the bombshell, Charlotte had met Lissa in the waiting room. They hadn’t needed to speak… Charlotte couldn’t, actually. Couldn’t squeeze any words out through her throat.
And there was Lissa, with a wealth of sadness in her eyes. Fear. Pale and silent. So unlike the vibrant, noisy Lissa she knew and loved.
She was pregnant.
She must be.
She hadn’t said.
Charlotte answered her friend’s question because she needed to fill the silence and Lissa didn’t look anywhere near ready enough to talk about herself. ‘It’s called BRCA something. A gene. A bad one. And I need to have my boobs off and worse… if I want to be sure to reduce my risk all round, I have to have my ovaries and everything out too. Which means… no babies. Or maybe babies earlier than we’d planned. Or, well… anyway, babies aren’t in the picture.’
‘Well, my test was a big fat positive.’ Lissa’s eyes misted. ‘So babies are very much in my picture.’
Shit. Shit. Double blasted shit for them both. ‘Oh, honey. I’m sorry.’
‘So, you can have this one if you want.’
‘You don’t mean that.’
One of Lissa’s hands waved absently while the other cradled her stomach. ‘I don’t know what I mean. I don’t know what to do.’
‘You and me both.’
‘This is another fine mess you got me into.’
‘Sex with a randy DJ was nothing to do with me, matey.’ Charlotte was trying very hard to be upbeat. She fixed a smile on her face. Tried to downplay the churning in her stomach.
The disbelief.
The bad bloody luck.
Lissa sipped her coffee, then sighed. ‘So I’m going to look like a meringue at your wedding. My breasts are going to be huge. My belly’s already rounding. I’m never going to fit into that sheath of tissue you call a bridesmaid’s dress.’
‘We’ll just have it adjusted. Or we could just nip down to Blacks and get you a tent. They do them in lovely colours these days.’
Lissa’s eyes glittered as she looked down at her boobs, then her belly, which was still as flat as a pancake. ‘I’m going to need a marquee not a tent.’
‘Oh, yeah. One of those massive catering marquees like they have on Bake Off.’
‘Yes, and loop jubilee bunting round my middle. Serves me right for drinking too much, lying back and thinking of England, and of amazing sex with an amazing man… instead of using a bloody condom. Oh God. Oh God.’ Lissa’s mouth tipped upwards and she actually laughed. There were tears streaming down her face but she was doubled over, holding her sides. Bordering on hysterical. Okay, full-blown hysterical. The gentle chatter in the café stopped and all eyes fixed on the odd goth woman in the corner, nursing coffee and laughing until her sides hurt. Charlotte wished she could feel some of it, just a little bit, but she felt empty. Wiped out. Eventually, Lissa stopped, tried to speak. ‘I don’t know why I’m laughing. It’s not funny.’
No, none of it was. Not at all. ‘It’s not as if you’ll be huge in three weeks anyway. Will you tell the girls before we go to Amsterdam?’
‘I don’t know. I was thinking I might pretend I’ve got a bug or on antibiotics or something.’
‘Why not tell them?’
Uncharacteristically, normally straight-backed Lissa hunched over her cup. ‘They’ll ask a zillion questions I don’t want to answer, and besides, I don’t want to take the spotlight off you.’
‘Who? Miss no boobs and no womb here?’
‘Er… the bride? On her hen weekend.’
Charlotte cringed. ‘I can’t tell any of them about this. I mean, Eileen… wow she’s just spent a good part of her savings on finding out I’m all clear and she was so relieved – you should have seen her; glowing with relief. How will she cope with this? And Carol? I don’t even know her and I have to tell her there might be something wrong. And Ben…’ It was all too much to think about. ‘Shit. Shit. Shit. I don’t know… This affects everyone, right? Me. Ben…’ Guilt wriggled through her. She’d been so gung-ho about trying to get information, she hadn’t actually thought about what she would do with it. ‘I wasn’t thinking clearly when I jumped into all this. I just wanted to know something… anything that tied me back to people I belong to.’
‘Oh, honey. You belong to me. To Ben, to Eileen. To us.’
Charlotte knew that. Deep, deep in her bones she felt that. She also felt she belonged to Carol just a little bit too – and there were uncles that Ben had confirmed. Even if they were scoundrels.
And maybe they carried this faulty gene too. Maybe she should tell them as well. But that would muddy things with all these people she loved who didn’t want her to careen onto a path that might hurt her.
Too late. ‘But I’m ruining things with everyone. And now I can’t un-know that stuff about breast cancer. I can’t rewind. I don’t want to know, actually.’
Lissa wiped her eyes, suddenly very serious. ‘Hot damn, it’s so bloody cruel – you read about it, don’t you? But you never think…’
‘No. You never think it’s going to be you.’
‘When will you have the op?’
Charlotte shrugged and wondered a
ll over again how Ben would react to her not having breasts. Or… not having kids. Not having kids. Everything had ramifications. Her head was spinning so she took another drink of her now-cold latte, which was too milky and made her feel even more nauseated. ‘They’re going to refer me to someone about having it done when we’ve finished our family, the counsellor said.’
‘Well, like I said, here’s bub number one for you.’
That poor baby. Not wanted, not even now it was real and growing inside her. It was cruel. Damned cruel. ‘Stop saying that. It’s your baby not mine.’
Lissa’s palm came up in defence. ‘Whoa. Sorry. I was just trying to make you smile.’
‘It’s not working. And maybe it can sense how you feel. Maybe it knows already that you don’t want it. Imagine how that feels…’
‘I never thought. I should have, but I didn’t. You’re thinking about Carol and you now. I’m sorry, Charlie.’ Lissa wrinkled her nose up.
‘You have no idea. No idea at all.’ Charlotte couldn’t stop herself. This was the first time she’d ever really snapped at her best friend. But she felt so raw about the test and now this. Rubbing salt into the wound. Lissa was pregnant, and Charlotte had to have her ovaries removed, shunting the prospect of having a family into the spotlight of worry when it wasn’t something she’d ever had to think about before.
God, there was so much to think about. So much. How was she supposed to deal with this? A leaflet wasn’t nearly enough.
‘I know. I’m sorry. I say stupid things sometimes, without thinking.’ Lissa looked up at her through her black fringe. ‘I just want to say that, whatever you do, I’ll be with you every step of the way.’
Charlotte tried to dampen her irritation. This was Lissa – she could be careless with words, but she did feel deeply. And she was here, sharing this horrible, horrible day and trying to make her smile. ‘Thank you, I know you’ll be here. But will Ben?’
‘Of course he will. He loves all of you, not just the woman bits.’
Charlotte looked down at her chest. ‘He loves those best, he said so. Especially since the scare.’
But Lissa was thinking, plotting, her eyes widened. ‘Hey, you can have a boob job. Go bigger if you want to. Get rid of the ballet dancer’s flatties. Go huge. That’s what I’d do, I’d go full-on Katy Price. 32GG or something.’
Charlotte had spent a lifetime worrying they were too big already. If she was too big. Trying to be smaller, daintier. In her profession, appearance had been everything. The lines, the poise, the grace. She flicked her top and glanced down at her perfectly small 30Bs. ‘No, thank you. These are just fine. But, what about babies? What if he doesn’t want them right now? What if—’
Lissa frowned. ‘Stop it. Listen to yourself. You’re racing ahead.’
‘I can’t help it. What if I already have it… you know?’
Draining her cup, Lissa stood. ‘Right. That’s enough. Come on, let’s get you home before you get too stressed.’ She slid her arm into Charlotte’s and heaved her up, then took her out into the fresh air. The high street was bustling with people going about their business, people who had things going on in their lives that you’d never know. Just like them. Lissa was still chattering, filling the gaps with a rumble of words. ‘I think you’re jumping the gun, sweetie. Let everything settle first. Get the wedding over, keep your boobies for the big day, then work it all out.’
But there was a tight knot in the pit of Charlotte’s gut and she got a feeling it would take root in there and stay until she’d done something concrete. ‘There’s a small part of me that’s panicking and just wanting everything gone now. Right now.’
‘No. No. Firstly, that’s not going to happen in just a few weeks, and secondly, you have to take a breath and digest all the information.’ Lissa smiled. ‘Listen to me, sounding all grown-up and sensible. That’s a first.’
‘Almost motherly… right?’
‘This isn’t about me, it’s about you. So, you’re going to go home and have dinner with your fiancé. Then you’re going to have fabulous sex and say nothing at all about any of this. This is our secret until you’re safely up that aisle, otherwise there’ll be a lot of upset for everyone and you don’t want that. You want to have the happiest day, not one full of people asking a lot of questions and fussing. There’s no massive hurry to do anything yet. Here’s the plan: we do our work, go on your fabulous hen weekend, focus on the wedding, and have lots and lots of fun. And pretend none of this is happening to either of us.’
It was all very well for Lissa to tell her to keep quiet about all of this, but everything was eating at Charlotte. How the hell was she going to tell Ben? You know how I don’t have cancer? Well, turns out I just don’t have cancer… yet.
We have to start a family… now. Forget everything we’ve got planned.
Oh, you know how you LOVE my boobs? Well, tough luck, matey.
And her mother? How was she going to tell her? And Carol? Did she even know? Had she just been lucky? Had she had treatment, a diagnosis? Suddenly it felt as if the weight of everyone else’s happiness lay with her all over again. It was too much.
Lissa was right; being a grown-up sucked.
The bedroom was dark. She’d forgotten to open the curtains this morning when she’d headed out of here so expectant, thinking she’d find nothing of note. The room still smelt of paint, the whole house did, and Charlotte was sick of it. Sick to the stomach, and her body ached, carrying the knowledge she now didn’t want.
She pulled back the duvet and climbed into bed. Closed her eyes. Tried to sleep, failed. Lay there for how long she didn’t know. Breathing. Breathing. Wishing.
Maybe Lissa was right. There was no point upsetting everyone with three weeks to go to what they were saying would be the happiest event of their lives. She couldn’t whip their joy away like that. Couldn’t have them all watching her walk up the aisle fighting tears, feeling sadness or pity. Poor Charlotte… Poor Ben, taking her on. No, she couldn’t have that.
It was meant to be a happy occasion, so she’d keep it that way. She wouldn’t say anything. She wouldn’t tell anyone until after the wedding. A few more weeks. She could keep just one more secret until then…
Someone was kissing her cheek. Someone was climbing into bed with her. Her eyes fluttered open as her heart ramped up. ‘Ben?’
‘Of course it’s me. Why? Were you expecting someone else? Hussy.’ His face was close to hers and he whispered, ‘What are you doing in bed so early? Are you okay? Or just hoping for a quickie when I got home?’
She sniffed the air. Sniffed him, surreptitiously. Stupid. But just in case. He smelt of work; the dark starch of his uniform, the stifle of his patrol car and shoe polish. A day’s drudgery hung on him. But at least it wasn’t sweat. Or sex. She wondered briefly whether she smelt of deceit or disease. Charlotte breathed out sleepily. ‘I can’t believe I fell asleep. I only came for a little lie-down.’ To recuperate from the shock of her results, to lick her wounds. To calm down. But she’d wiped out instead. ‘I’m fine. Just tired, you know. I thought you were doing overtime tonight?’
‘Nah. Got called off.’ He shook his head, but she couldn’t see his eyes.
She sat up and peered at him. ‘What? Just like that?’
He turned and held her gaze. It felt like a dare that said trust me. Believe in me. ‘Yes, Charlotte. Just like that.’
Which in itself was unusual, but she decided not to go there as she asked about his day and kept the details of her own blood test result-laden day to herself. ‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it? You’re here early.’
‘Sure.’ He looked a mix of relief and disappointment and she wasn’t sure whether the latter was all about her. Dragging his eyes from her he slid up the bed and sat up. ‘Right. I’ve had a call from Father Lukas and he said he’d like copies of our vows as soon as possible.’
‘The wedding vows?’
‘Yep.’
‘But if it’s a church wedding, wo
n’t we just say the traditional things?’
‘He likes to jig things up a bit. We do the traditional ones but we can add a bit of our own too, to make it more personal and unique.’
‘Ah.’ To love and to honour. Or… to keep secrets, to rock the boat, to lie… Her stomach curled into a tighter ball. It still hadn’t uncurled from Erika’s bombshell. ‘I haven’t done mine yet.’
He leaned over and tugged at the drawer in the cabinet next to the bed, pulled out a notepad and tore some blank sheets off. ‘Okay, well… neither have I. But he said he wanted to have a look at them and see if we were in the right ballpark.’
‘They’re our vows, so surely we can write what we want?’
‘Yes, of course, he said that too, and that he could guide us if we got stuck. But… we won’t know if we’re stuck unless we write them. What do you think? Is now a good time?’
There were so many other things to talk about, but she couldn’t say anything about any of them. ‘I guess so.’
‘Excellent. I’ll go put the kettle on and we can get cracking.’
She watched him go, then looked at the paper in her hand. He deserved to know what he was getting into, didn’t he? She couldn’t marry him with this secret. Couldn’t let him think he was getting that perfect package when inside she was defective.
But he looked so content when he pushed open the door and brought her a steaming cup of tea, which he placed so carefully on her bedside cabinet, then jumped onto the bed and sighed. ‘Well, I think I know how to start…’
She couldn’t possibly tell him. It would break his heart. Break hers to even say the words. No, better to keep it inside than ruin his wedding.
The Other Life of Charlotte Evans Page 14
