by Helen Libby
Skin Deep
by
Helen Libby
Copyright © Helen Libby, 2016
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to
actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
For my sister, Anne.
X
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
I bury my face amongst the pale pink roses and cream freesias, inhaling the sweet scent; I wish Will would buy me flowers. Sighing, I bind the stems with ribbon the exact shade of the roses. I cast a critical eye over the large bouquet; it’s perfect. I can’t resist another sniff and I laugh as the feathery fern tickles my nose. Just one last thing to do; I attach the card to the cellophane.
To my darling wife, Caroline. Thank you for 40 wonderful years.
All my love, now and forever, Neil xxxx
How amazing is that? My heart pangs every time I read it. Lucky Caroline. Will has this theory that because I’m surrounded by flowers all day, I must get sick of seeing them. As if! I adore flowers – all those different colours, shapes and smells; the details on the petals.
I carefully place the bouquet in the cool room, then dash back through to the workroom. Grabbing the brush, I turn up the radio and attack the floor. Swivelling my hips in time to the music, sweeping the floor takes a lot longer than it ought to.
‘Gemma!’
I jump. It’s my boss, Marie, calling from the shop.
‘Turn the radio down.’
With hot cheeks I finish the tidying rather more sedately. From the workbench I salvage what I can of leftover ribbon, and using a dustpan and brush I sweep up discarded leaves and stems and dash outside to the gardening waste bin.
Whilst I’m scrubbing my hands prior to getting started on a wedding order, Marie pops her dark curly head through the doorway. ‘Put the kettle on, Gemma. I’m closing up – I’ll be through soon.’
Glancing at my watch I’m surprised to see it’s 6pm. We’re working late tonight. It’s such a big order that I reckon we’ll have to come in early tomorrow morning as well in order to finish it, but it will be worth it. I never tire of putting together a bouquet or a table decoration. And the look on the bride’s face when she sees her bouquet? I get a lump in my throat every time.
Two hours later and it’s time to go home. I check my mobile on the way to the car and see there’s one missed call from Will. I call him and immediately wish I hadn’t because he asks me to pick up some pizzas for the lads. I groan; that’s the third time this week that Will’s mates have been round at ours. They’re harmless, though somewhat annoying. I know I should say something to Will, but I don’t want to be a killjoy.
The A5 is quiet all the way from Chester to Mold, and I’m soon driving along the row of terraced houses which make up Churchill Street. For once I’m able to park right outside my house. The sound of rowdy laughter greets me as I struggle to open the front door with my cargo of pizzas.
‘Hi Blondie.’ Will ruffles my chin-length bob, plants a kiss on my forehead and whisks the pizzas away from me.
I leave my bag and coat in the narrow hall and head for the kitchen, passing through the living room en-route. Daz, Gaz and Kev are sprawled on the floor, cans of lager in hand. There’s a football match on the enormous flat-screen TV is displaying some football match. I smile at them all. ‘Hiya.’
Three grunts.
‘So how was your day?’
Will gets some plates out of the cupboard. ‘The usual. There’s some post over there for you.’
‘How was your day, Gemma?’ I mutter.
Will rolls his eyes. ‘How was your day?’
‘Fine, thanks.’ I turn to the small pile of mail on the worktop. On the top is a letter from the Maelor Hospital in Wrexham. I went to see my GP recently about a mole on my leg. I’ve had it for years. When I first noticed it had grown I didn’t think much of it, but thought I should get it checked out to be on the safe side. I was convinced it would be benign, but my GP suspects its melanoma; she’s referred me to a dermatologist. The letter tells me I have an appointment in a fortnight’s time.
‘How many slices of pizza do you want, Gem?’
‘Hmm… Sorry what?’ I look up. ‘Oh, none for me thanks. I’m not hungry.’ I feel a bit sick. Somehow seeing the details of the appointment in black and white makes me realise just how serious this could be.
‘Sure?’
I wave the plate away.
‘What’s that?’ Will gestures to the letter.
I turn to him, stuffing the letter back in its envelope. ‘W…what? This? Oh, it’s just junk.’ I feel bad keeping it from him, but there’s no point in worrying him unnecessarily. There’s a chance the mole won’t turn out to be melanoma. Maybe my GP is being over-cautious. ‘I’m tired. I think I’ll have a read in bed.’
Will shrugs. ‘Suit yourself.’
‘Night,’ I say to Will’s cronies and go upstairs. I don’t take long in the bathroom and I’m soon propped up in bed with a copy of Grazia magazine on my lap. I try to read, but I can’t concentrate, so I pull out my laptop from underneath the bed.
I don’t know much about skin cancer; you don’t hear about it as much as you do about, say, breast cancer, so I’m shocked to read that rates of malignant melanoma are rising faster than any other type of common cancer in the UK. There are different stages. I look up the details of an excision biopsy, which is what I’ll be having. If the mole is found to be cancerous, then I’ll need to have more skin removed, maybe even a skin graft . . . My stomach churns and I shut down the laptop. Sometimes you can have too much information.
I look at the mole. Surely this innocuous brown lump isn’t life-threatening? I mustn’t think too far ahead. I turn off the lamp on the bedside cabinet. Submerged under the duvet, I curl into the foetal position. I’ve got a feeling I’m not going to get much sleep tonight. Roll on two weeks’ time. I want to know what I’m dealing with.
Chapter Two
I’m experimenting with a design for a hand-tied bouquet, trying not to think about my upcoming hospital appointment, when I become aware of someone standing in front of me. I look up and, wow! I drop my pencil. He takes my breath away. The vision of gorgeousness is smiling at me. He’s got pale green eyes and chin-length, light brown wavy hair.
He peers at my name badge. ‘Hi, Gemma.’
I stand tall and beam up at him. ‘Hi, how can I help you?’ He smiles at me, and there’s a long silence. My mouth starts to ache.
He blinks. ‘Erm…I’d like a bouquet for my brother and sister-in-law. They’ve just had a baby.’
‘Well, you’ve come to the right place.’ I cringe. Silly! ‘Do you know what you want?’
‘I’ll be guided by you. I haven’t got a clue about flowers.’
I laugh and relax a little. ‘What did they have?’
‘Sorry?’ His forehead creases.
‘The baby. Is it a boy or a girl?’
‘Oh! It’s a boy - my nephew.’
‘Congratulations, Uncle . . .’ Underhand I know. I’m desperate to know his name.
‘Thanks. Leo. Uncle Leo, that’s me.’ He beams.
I
smile. Leo, his name is Leo. I give myself a little shake - it’s time for action. I leave the counter and head towards the many flowers available for selection. ‘Hmm . . . I’m thinking germini, freesias, alstroemeria and spray chrysanthemums.’ I point out the flowers to him along the way. The white and blue combination would be perfect, along with some foliage. I turn to him, keen for his approval. ‘What do you think?’
‘It all sounds great. Can you deliver it?’
‘Of course. Will it be to the hospital or to their home?’
He hesitates. ‘To the hospital. They’re in the Countess of Chester. I think they’re being discharged tomorrow.’
‘That’s fine. I can make the bouquet up and deliver it later today.’ I’m on my way back to the counter when I stop and turn back to him. He almost bumps into me.
‘How about I arrange it in a small vase? That means your sister-in-law can easily take it home with her tomorrow.’
‘Sounds good.’
We smile at each other. I can’t seem to tear my gaze away from his eyes. I have never had this reaction to a man before, not even when I first met Will. I start. Will, your boyfriend, remember him? I look away and dart behind the counter. ‘I just need to take some details.’
Leo pays, his fingers touching mine briefly as he puts some notes in my hand. I feel a buzz of energy. Did he feel it too? He writes a card to accompany the flowers, gives me the ward details, and then he just stands there. ‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’ I don’t want him to go.
Leo drums his fingers on the counter. ‘So that will be delivered today?’
‘Yes, this afternoon.’
‘Right, well, thanks for all your help.’ He backs away slowly, towards the exit. His smile doesn’t falter and I smile right back, admiring the view.
Once he’s gone I rush into the workroom and head for the sink to splash my cheeks with cold water. What is wrong with me? I feel like such a cow. I think about Will. We’re doing okay, so why did Leo have such an effect on me? It doesn’t matter - I’ll never see him again. The thought disappoints me though. Feeling even guiltier, I set to work on his order.
***
My trainers squeak along the hospital corridors. Clutching the vase and its contents tightly, I head towards the maternity ward. I speak to the nurse at the desk and am directed to Mrs. Morgan, Leo’s sister-in-law. She’s holding her son, gazing at him with such rapture. I hover, and eventually she looks up, smiling.
‘Hello,’ she says softly.
‘Hi. Mrs. Morgan?’ She nods.
‘These are for you.’ I hand over the flowers.
‘Oh! how lovely.’ She takes the card. ‘They’re from Leo, how sweet of him.’
I glance at the baby. He’s cute.
She buries her nose amongst the flowers briefly. ‘These are beautiful. Did you arrange them? You’re very talented. Thank you so much.’
‘I’m glad you like them, but don’t thank me, thank your brother-in-law.’ Your gorgeous brother-in-law. I back away. ‘Congratulations by the way.’ I nod at Joe.
I’m grinning as I bounce back along the corridor. I love delivering bouquets to people, being able to witness their delight.
In the car park I stop in my tracks as I spot Leo. His six-foot plus frame isn’t hard to miss. He’s heading towards the entrance; he’ll see me soon. My heart beats faster and faster. I’m torn between running away and staying put, but I can’t face speaking to him. There’s nothing else for it; I dash back inside the hospital and into the small shop. I pull out a magazine and wait, holding my breath. I soon see him striding past. Finally, I can breathe again. Why does this guy, someone I hardly know, make me feel this way, like a teenager with a crush? Will and I are settled and that’s that. But maybe being settled isn’t enough, a treacherous voice inside me whispers. I groan, dismissing the thought. Haven’t I got enough on my plate at the moment? My health should be – is – my top priority.
Chapter Three
Waiting at the Wrexham Maelor Hospital to see the dermatologist, I’m fast regretting that I didn’t tell anyone about my appointment; it would be nice to have some company. It doesn’t help that Mr. Davison is running late. I’m trying to stay upbeat, but the longer I’m here the more nervous I’m becoming. Thoughts flit in and out of my mind like floating dandelion seed-heads. What if the mole is cancerous? No, I mustn’t go there. I can’t wait to have it removed. I feel like I’ve got this potentially malicious entity on my body, eating away at me.
‘Gemma Davies.’
Taking a deep breath I enter the room. The man himself has bright blue eyes and white hair, complete with a beard. He could be Father Christmas. Surely someone who looks like Father Christmas won’t give me bad news. He has a nice smile, and I feel comforted by his kind manner. He asks me lots of questions about my mole (it’s even photographed) whilst examining it thoroughly, then it’s time for the excision biopsy, which is done under a local anaesthetic. I’m just pleased to get it over with.
I get a taxi home afterwards. Will won’t be home for hours yet because he’s going to the cinema with his mates after work. I’m glad, as the only thing I want to do is to crawl into bed and sleep. Thank goodness it’s still quite cold (even though it is supposed to be spring), and so me wearing pyjamas in bed won’t look strange to Will. He’d see the dressing on my leg otherwise. I know I’m going to have to tell him soon.
***
Waiting for the results of the biopsy is excruciating. My leg is sore so I’m taking lots of ibuprofen. Work keeps me occupied during the day, but the evenings tend to drag. The weekend is even worse. I can’t settle to anything. I’m amazed that Will doesn’t notice anything’s amiss, but then he’s with Daz, Gaz and Kev most of the time.
I had a moment in the shower. What if I’ve got skin cancer? What if the cancer has spread? What if they can’t do anything for me? What if this is the end of the road for me? What if, what if, what if? I sank to my knees and bawled my eyes out.
Finally, a week after having the biopsy, I arrive home to find a message on the phone asking me to make an appointment to see my GP. Is that good or bad? If the results are negative, wouldn’t they have said so?
After a sleepless night I ring the surgery at 8.30am the following morning, but oh no, the line’s engaged. I try ringing every five minutes or so, but to no avail. At last, it’s ringing. I drum my fingers on the workbench. I pace the room when I’m put on hold. When the receptionist comes back on the line she tells me that Dr. Harrison can see me after morning surgery. Oh Christ! It’s cancer, it has to be. What am I going to do?
There’s no time to dwell on it though as I relieve Marie and cover the counter for a while, helping a young man to choose flowers for his girlfriend’s birthday (sunflowers, red germini, salal and steel grass). When Marie returns, I get to work on an order for a christening. Keeping busy is the answer.
I take an early lunch and set off for the surgery in Mold. I exchange a few pleasantries with my GP, Jennifer Harrison (perversely now I’m all too happy to delay hearing whatever news she has to impart), but then she gets to the point. As she starts to explain, my breathing becomes erratic and shallow. I’m clutching my handbag so hard my fingers ache.
‘Mr. Davison has called me, Gemma. Your mole was found to be cancerous.’ She is calm and tries to reassure me, but all I can think is I’ve got cancer. Deep breaths. I ask whether the cancer has spread. I’m terrified that the cancer has spread. Dr. Harrison says that as the cancer was found early there’s every chance we’ve caught it in time, but that Mr. Harrison will be able to tell me more. I don’t think I can bear to wait to see him again, but it seems I have no choice.
Chapter Four
Apparently I have stage 1B melanoma, which means that the cancer hasn’t spread anywhere else in my body. Thank f*** for that. I can’t begin to tell you how relieved I am. Mr. Davison goes on to say that my case has been discussed at a skin-cancer multi-disciplinary meeting, and a wide local excision has been
recommended for me, which will involve taking more skin from around the area where my mole was removed. It’s to make sure that no cancerous cells were left behind, and to reduce the chances of the melanoma coming back. I’ll have the procedure done within the next few weeks. I hadn’t thought of the cancer coming back. Is this ever going to be over?
I’ve got the rest of the afternoon off, so I decide to go to Loggerheads Country Park and make the most of the sunny blue skies. I walk for about an hour along the various paths, through woodland and across the limestone cliffs. I pass quite a few people on the way; some on their own walking their dogs, others with a partner or a friend, plus a few groups. I eventually find a quiet spot near the river. Sitting on a tree stump, I stare at the water rushing past me. A slight breeze ruffles my hair. I close my eyes and try to clear my mind. It’s lovely here. Will and I used to come here a lot together. Why did we stop? There’s something restorative about being so close to nature and I begin to feel better and more able to put things into perspective. It’s going to be okay – I’ll be okay.
I get up and go as far as Devil’s Bridge. Leaning on the railings I look down at the rocks below. The drop is considerable. I can see an entrance to a cave from here, black and mysterious. I shiver. Nobody knows where I am right at this moment. Nobody knows that I have skin cancer, and that was the way I wanted it, but now it’s time to tell Will and my parents.
I decide to tell my parents first. I find being with them in my childhood home soothing. Mum and Dad are great, totally reassuring and I leave feeling positive. I go straight home to tell Will my news.
I hesitate in the hallway. Will isn’t alone; Daz, Gaz and Kev are here. Will promised he’d keep the evening free. I let the door slam behind me and stomp straight upstairs.
Will eventually comes up to see me in the bedroom. ‘What’s up, Gem?’
