Jilted

by Rachael Johns

  ‘Flynn doesn’t need me anymore, Lauren.’

  She laughed at that, loudly, and in a most unladylike manner. ‘Of course I know that. I didn’t mean Flynn. I meant Matilda.’

  Stunned, Ellie shook her head as Lauren strutted off down the corridor. ‘Wait,’ she called. ‘Matilda?’

  For a moment, Ellie didn’t think Lauren was going to stop. But when she did – turning around agonisingly slowly – her smile was pure evil. She marched back just enough that she didn’t have to raise her voice. ‘Oops.’ She pressed her fingers against her cherry-red lips. ‘You mean she hasn’t told you? I just assumed because you two were so close …’ Her voice trailed off and then she shrugged. ‘Forget I said anything. It’s not my place.’

  Lauren twisted on her heels and marched away again. Ellie’s body went cold with fear. Her heart was thumping again and she wondered if what Lauren said had any truth in it. Perhaps it didn’t. Surely even Lauren wouldn’t risk her job – patient confidentiality and all that – simply to manipulate her.

  But as she thought it over, little things began to add up, and the sum total pounded her skull like an angry fist. Mat looking frail and weary after two nights in hospital. Her fatigue, her constant need for nanna naps. Feeling the cold more than she ever had before. Oh Lord! Sorting her stuff and packing up her house …

  Goosebumps swam like a plague on Ellie’s skin. Her breath raced. She stood, sat, stood, and paced the pokey waiting room, trying to calm herself.

  Don’t overreact. It could be nothing. But her little pep talks did nothing to placate her anxiety. Inside, she knew. Something was wrong. Something was terribly, horribly wrong with Mat.

  And she had to know what it was.

  The door of the examination room opened again. Ellie stopped pacing and turned. Dr Bates had a steadying hand on Matilda’s back as she helped her through the doorway.

  ‘So, I’ll see you again next week,’ she said. ‘And please, think about what I said. Please?’

  Matilda nodded. When she looked up at Ellie, the fight of the morning was gone. She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her usual heights. Ellie regarded her mother figure – her best friend – and her eyes brimmed with tears. It wasn’t fair for either of them to have the conversation here.

  ‘I’ll go get the car,’ she said. Her feet pounded the cold linoleum and raced across the carpark. It was raining, so she pulled up right in front of the hospital entrance. She helped Matilda into the car and ran round to the driver’s side. ‘How was your appointment?’ she asked, trying to focus on driving and not on the crippling fear in her bones.

  ‘Fine. What do you feel like for lunch? I could make us some nice scrambled eggs.’

  ‘I’m supposed to be looking after you.’

  ‘Then you can make the scrambled eggs,’ said Matilda, an edge to her voice.

  Two could play at this game. ‘When does the doc think you’ll be able to put pressure on your ankle?’ Ellie asked surreptitiously.

  ‘Soon.’ Matilda glanced out the window as they arrived at the cottage. ‘Oh look, Joyce is here.’

  Ellie wanted to kick something. She should have gotten straight to the point. Now she’d have to wait until Joyce left, and that could be hours. Mat and Joyce talked faster than anyone Ellie had ever known, and when they got together, getting a word in was impossible.

  Ellie sighed. Joyce came out to help Mat up the steps, so Ellie went on ahead to put the kettle on. She banged cupboards and the fridge door as she thundered around the kitchen, collecting cups, milk and coffee. Patience wasn’t one of her virtues at the best of times, but when worry was thrown into the bargain, she didn’t have any at all. The kettle seemed to take aeons to boil and the coffee didn’t want to dissolve. In the end, she only made two cups, deciding she’d leave Joyce and Mat to their gossip and take herself off for a bath. But when she turned down the hallway to deliver the drinks, their hushed and hurried voices stilled her. At a sudden halt, coffee slopped over the edges and over her fingers and onto the carpet, but she stood, oblivious to the heat and the mess, her ears stretching to hear the conversation.

  She placed the mugs on the side table next to a vase, and crept closer to the door. Someone had gone to the effort of almost closing it, but the tiny gap was enough to make out their words.

  ‘You have to tell her,’ Joyce hissed. Her voice conveyed a forcefulness Ellie hadn’t yet witnessed in the jovial woman.

  ‘I can’t,’ came Mat’s irate reply. ‘I don’t want to hold her back.’

  ‘Bah humbug. Or to put it your way, bollocks. How do you think Ellie will feel when she finds out from someone else? Or when it’s too late?’

  There was silence in the living room as Mat pondered her response. Ellie waited a moment before deciding it was time to announce herself. Forgetting the coffee, she pushed open the door and stepped into the room. It lacked the usual warmth found in Matilda’s house. She stood straight and tall, her tight fists on her hips. She glared first at Mat and then at Joyce.

  ‘What is it you need to tell me?’

  Joyce rubbed her lips together. She stared at the carpet as if the ancient weave were worthy of museum status. Mat looked up and tried to smile but her face crumbled. She seemed small and weak and it scared the living daylights out of Ellie. Her shaky hand patted the spot on the couch beside her. ‘You’d better come sit down.’

  Thoughts flashed through Ellie’s mind. First and foremost that nobody ever said sit down before good news. What was going on? She sat down and prepared herself for the worst. But the words that left Mat’s mouth next were ones you could never be prepared to hear. Nightmare words.

  ‘I have cancer, Ellie. Bone cancer.’

  Ellie took a few moments to process the diagnosis. There had to be some mistake. Mat had never smoked. She’d always derided Ellie for her terrible eating habits. And she came from sturdy stock. Her mother, who died only last year, had lived to nearly a hundred. There had to be a misunderstanding, a medical mix-up.

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Since a few months ago. It’s all right, everyone has to go one way or another.’

  ‘Hold on … rewind a second. We’ll talk about the dying later.’ No way in hell would she let a disease rob her of the only mother she’d ever known. ‘If you’ve known a few months, why didn’t you tell me?’ Hurt and confusion threatened to bring forth tears.

  Mat shuffled over and put her arm around Ellie. ‘What use would it have done? You’d only have worried yourself sick.’

  ‘And that’s my right, dammit! You’ve worried about me long enough.’

  Joyce cleared her throat. ‘I might leave you girls to it. If you need me, just call.’ She slipped out, almost unnoticed.

  Matilda locked eyes with Ellie. ‘I’m sorry, but I needed some time. I had to make a couple of decisions on my own.’

  ‘What decisions?’

  ‘What I should do. Whether I should fight it.’

  Ellie jolted from Mat’s embrace. ‘What do you mean if?’

  ‘The cancer is quite aggressive, Ellie, it already was when I was diagnosed. I could have done chemo and radiotherapy, but they couldn’t give me any guarantees – besides the fact it’d be an absolute hell. The symptoms could fill a book: vomiting, hair loss, fatigue. Bunch them together and there’s no quality of life. I decided against it.’

  ‘You what?’ Ellie couldn’t keep the fury from her voice. She shot up, needing to move around before her negative energy took over.

  Mat reached for her crutches and tried to struggle up.

  ‘Stay there,’ Ellie growled. Her muscles had never felt so tight. She wanted to start hurling antiques and souvenirs, screaming at the top of her lungs. She stopped and ran a hand through her hair. Her fingers caught in the elastic of her ponytail at the precise moment that nausea whirled in her gut. She covered her mouth and fled the room.

  In the bathroom, she slammed the door and fell onto the tiles. She gripped the toilet bowl as sobs and vomit
combined in a cocktail of fear, anger and grief. When she thought it was finally over, she reached for the toilet roll and tugged. The whole thing began to unravel. She tore off long lengths and scrunched them up, swiping at her cheeks and eyes. The last time she’d been this sick was in this very bathroom. Only a week or so before her wedding.

  Shivering, she tossed that thought aside and looked around. The sobs had slowed, but as she contemplated the bathroom – one that could only be Matilda’s – the feelings resurged. The walls were covered in sayings, poems and crazy jokes her godmother had collected over the years. Many a first-time guest had been known to spend hours in here, simply reading. It was like a collaged history of all the places she’d been – a quote or a poem from every city and village, a testament to a woman in love with life and the world around her. How could she not fight this?

  ‘Els?’ Mat’s voice sounded through the door. ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘No.’ Ellie pouted. She couldn’t look at Mat without the anger welling up again. She loved her more than anyone, but she just couldn’t see her right now.

  ‘Please, Ellie, come out. We need to talk about this.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘This is childish, Ellie.’

  ‘Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black.’ Ellie glowered at the bathroom door. ‘Not seeking treatment is childish. And selfish.’

  ‘Now look here, young lady, you can call me a lot of things, but don’t you dare call me selfish. I’ve never been that. Especially not to you.’

  ‘Sure seems that way from where I’m sitting.’ Ellie crossed her legs and arms and leaned back against the door.

  ‘So it was selfish of me to turn down one of the best offers of my career, was it? To take on a child who wasn’t mine?’ Ellie had never heard Matilda raise her voice in this way, at least not to her. And she’d never mentioned this sacrifice before. ‘To house her, feed her, clothe her, love her?’

  Another sob slipped from Ellie’s lips. There were so many damn thoughts, so many damn emotions going through her mind and body she didn’t know what to feel. But life without Mat wasn’t worth thinking about. When she didn’t respond, neither did Matilda. After a while – Ellie couldn’t be sure how long – she heard the slow click-clack of Mat’s crutches against the floorboards as she walked away. Ellie stayed there until her bum went numb. Despite the pins and needles, she still wasn’t ready to see her godmother. Not yet.

  Eventually, she washed her face and ventured out into the kitchen. Mat’s bedroom door was shut, Ellie guessing she’d retreated there for a rest. She hesitated by it for a moment before pulling the hood of her jumper over her head. She couldn’t face Matilda right now, but there was someone else who could give her answers.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Ellie strode down the main street past the shops, keeping her head down. She turned at Apex Park and walked briskly towards the caravan park. It was on the other side of town to Mat’s house, one block back from the main street. Ellie hadn’t been past or even stopped in for a squiz since her return. Joyce had asked her round for a cuppa numerous times, but between looking after Mat, fixing the house, helping the theatrical society and dealing with her emotions, she just hadn’t found the time. But right now, she needed Joyce’s thoughts and opinions. Joyce and Mat were close, and if Joyce believed Mat needed to try proper medical treatment, then maybe she and Ellie could launch the battle together.

  Not that Ellie wanted to fight Matilda – that had and would never be the case – but she needed to lodge a persuasive argument. Make the stubborn old bat see just how important and needed she was.

  She stopped at the entrance to the caravan park to gather herself. The paths between the camping and van plots were weed-free and neater than Ellie had ever known them. The ablutions block had been repainted since she’d last been here, and signs scattered the park telling visitors what activities they could partake in around town. An abundance of flowers grew in big tin pots on the verandah of the caretaker’s chalet. Joyce’s chalet. Ellie took the steps to the front door. Unsurprisingly, it was wide open, a sign that all and sundry were welcome.

  She knocked, her nose catching the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Just what she needed to bring her tension down a notch.

  ‘Ellie?’ She turned at the voice behind her. Joyce, with an arm full of washing, approached. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Not good.’ Through her hoodie she rubbed the goosebumps that still littered her arms. It wasn’t that chilly a day, but her bones felt icy.

  ‘Come on in.’ Joyce marched ahead of Ellie and dumped her washing on the table. She had the kind of home one felt comfortable in – a lot like Mat’s. There was a profusion of clutter and, despite the small size, lots of nooks to curl up in and read or rest or watch TV. ‘I’m glad you came,’ Joyce announced. She gestured to her impressive-looking percolator. ‘Can I twist your arm?’

  ‘No twisting required.’ Ellie helped herself to a wicker armchair. ‘Feel free to put in a shot of something stronger if you like.’

  Joyce chuckled, but didn’t reach for any secret stash. She finished making the brews and then laid them on the table with a plate of homemade choc-chunk cookies. ‘Help yourself.’

  Ellie picked one up to be polite, but she was unable to stomach even one bite. Now that she was here, she wasn’t quite sure how to start this conversation. Joyce was, in essence, a stranger. They’d never talked about anything more meaningful than baking.

  Joyce sensed her hesitation. ‘I take it you and Mat had the chat?’

  Ellie shook her head. ‘Not exactly. Conversation kind of blew up after you left.’ The cookie crumbled in her hand as her fist clenched. She’d forgotten it was there. ‘Sorry.’ She attempted to wipe the crumbs onto a plate but Joyce waved a hand in front of her.

  ‘Don’t be silly. Leave it. Why did things blow up?’

  Ellie crossed her arms. ‘Because I’m furious. And Mat can’t seem to understand why.’

  ‘Are you angry because she didn’t tell you, or because you don’t agree with her decision?’ Joyce cradled her mug in her palms.

  ‘Both. I don’t understand either. When did she tell you?’

  ‘Four months ago. The day she was diagnosed.’

  Joyce’s admission was like a shot in the back. Ellie had always thought of herself as the closest friend Matilda had.

  Joyce knew what Ellie was thinking. ‘Some things are hard to share with those we care about the most.’

  Ellie scoffed. ‘What a crock. And you should have told me the moment I arrived. Does anyone else know?’

  ‘No one, aside from the medics. Mat didn’t want them to.’ At Ellie’s scowl, Joyce raised her eyebrows. ‘How would you feel if Matilda had told me your secret?’

  ‘Betrayed.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Joyce nodded. ‘And didn’t you only tell her yourself recently? Some things are hard to confess. I desperately wanted to tell you. I’ve been begging Mat to tell you since she told me. She speaks about you constantly, she’s so proud of everything you’ve achieved. I knew you could handle this.’

  ‘So why didn’t she?’ Ellie felt herself succumbing to tears yet again. She reached for the tissue box on the table. ‘I could have made her see sense.’

  ‘And there lies your answer,’ Joyce replied sagely. ‘She doesn’t want you to change her mind.’

  The tears trickled silently down Ellie’s face. ‘I don’t get it. She’s always loved life. Why doesn’t she want to live? Why doesn’t she want to beat this?’

  ‘As you say, she loves life. She’s done amazing things, met amazing people, always been independent. My feeling,’ Joyce said, ‘is that she doesn’t want that independence taken away. She doesn’t want chemo – and all that it entails – to deprive her of it, and she doesn’t want to go through treatment alone.’

  ‘She wouldn’t have to,’ Ellie rushed. ‘I came home for an ankle, I’d have moved mountains for this. I would have been by her side through it all. If only sh
e’d given me the chance.’

  ‘So you’ll stay now?’

  Ellie swallowed. ‘Of course.’ An image of Flynn jumped into her mind. She pushed it away. There were more important things to think about than her heart. ‘Do you know how long we’ve got?’

  ‘Yes. At least, the doctor’s estimation anyway. But you need to talk that through with Mat. As much as she doesn’t want to need anyone, the road ahead won’t be easy.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Ellie lifted her mug and took a long, comforting sip. Now that she’d had time to calm down a little, she realised how awful she’d been to Mat. She’d screamed and yelled and acted like a spoiled child when she should have been understanding and giving. ‘I was horrible to her,’ she confessed, looking across at Joyce. ‘I just don’t want to lose her.’

  ‘I know.’ Joyce reached across and held Ellie’s hand with hers. ‘I don’t want to lose her either. But we have to respect her wishes.’

  ‘I guess so.’ But it pained Ellie. ‘I better go,’ she said, taking a final sip. ‘Thanks for the drink, and for listening. And thanks for being there for Mat. I only wish she’d trusted me enough to be there for her before now.’

  ‘I know. Tell her.’

  ‘I will.’ Ellie said goodbye and wandered back through town. She passed by the Co-op and bought a pizza from the deli counter, knowing that neither she nor Mat would be in the mood for cooking.

  When she arrived home, the cottage was silent. Eerily so. She wandered slowly about the rooms, looking through Mat’s many possessions – some worth lots, others only of sentimental value. She fingered the collection of snow globes from around the world. They’d always been special to Ellie. As a teenager, she would choose one of an evening and ask Mat to tell her stories about where it was from. She wanted these when Mat was gone.

  This thought startled her so much that she almost dropped a beautiful globe from Salzburg. She clutched it tightly to her chest and tried to remember what Mat had said about it. In the silence, she heard a tiny sob come from her godmother’s room. Guilt swamped her.