Somebody to Love: Sigh With Contentment, Scream With Frustration. At Time You Will Weep.

by Sheryl Browne

  ‘I assumed you might have been detained with Starbuck, so I left another message on your mobile. Did you get any of my, um…’

  Donna trailed off as Mark muttered, ‘Starbuck! Shit, I left him in the car,’ and shot out of the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It’ll be fine, Donna told herself again as she selected her best, clean and pressed — bless Mark’s thoughtfulness — lingerie. Nothing risqué, she decided, racy and lacy not being suitable for the hospital.

  No word from Mark. She peered at her mobile whilst applying enough make-up for a brave face, hoping it might flash up a message. Nothing, which meant either he didn’t get the bare-all message she’d left, or he had, and wasn’t returning her calls by way of his answer.

  She wished she’d had a chance to speak to him alone, to ask him outright what he’d meant by I care very much about you, but… That had been impossible though, with all the excitement when he’d brought Starbuck into the hall.

  Poor Starbuck. They’d had to take a little bit of his intestine away, apparently. And now he was going to be on water and antibiotics, followed by bland food for a while. Donna had offered to help. Mark had smiled and said he’d ring her. But he hadn’t; so, even without her odd million messages, that added up to him not wanting to pursue things. Didn’t it?

  Stop it. Donna selected sensible outer attire to match her sensible drawers and told herself not to be silly. Mark’s smile had been his usual twinkly-eyed one — Donna’s heart fluttered hopefully — so if he had decided her no complications stipulation was just too complicated, at least it meant they were still friends, which was… absolutely no good at all when Donna’s inclination was to get good and complicated with him, in any and all compromising positions.

  ‘Do you think he’d notice, hon,’ she plopped despondently down on the bed next to Sadie, who with her snout and front paw hanging over the edge of the bed, looked to be missing Mark too, ‘if I whipped off his shirt and just bit him next time I saw him?’

  Donna glanced down as Sadie glanced up, showing the whites of her chocolate brown eyes. ‘No, you’re right, babe.’ She sighed. ‘Probably would be a touch on the excessive side.’

  Oh, well. It was her own fault. Drive a man away hard enough and he’d go, she supposed. ‘I wished I hadn’t, Sade. That I was brave enough to pick up the phone and say, make mad passionate love to me.’

  To Mark obviously, Donna added a mental addendum.

  Ask him to just love her.

  As she loved him.

  No complications.

  ****

  She would call him. She didn’t like the loneliness of being alone… without Mark. Just as soon as she got back from the hospital she would ring him, depending on when she got back, and whether she got back in one piece.

  It occurred to Donna on the way there to extract her head from sand and concern herself about bits of her body other than her heart. She hadn’t really had time to think much about her appointment, which was probably a good thing, but now she was almost there. She’d be absolutely fine, she assured herself, popping her head back in the sand.

  Donna checked her watch twenty minutes later and strained her ears in hopes of hearing Alicia arrive. She wasn’t feeling quite so fine, after all, Donna realised. Very un-fine, in fact.

  Where on earth was she? Alicia had said she’d be here, though Donna had tried to wave away her sister’s concerns, whilst wondering how she’d found out about the appointment, other than by telepathy.

  Not by mind-reading. By letter-reading, Alicia had told her, sounding rather miffed when she’d rung. The letter on top of the microwave Donna hadn’t bothered to mention, she’d pointed out, and then insisted on meeting her here. Donna had been quietly relieved, whilst telling herself there was no need. Now, she was terrified, and there was every need.

  She wanted a hand to hold. What was she doing here, alone? The last time she’d been on her own in a hospital, she’d left empty-handed and broken-hearted, so why on earth had she imagined she could cope on her own, again?

  Because she’d had to before.

  Because she’d thought she should be able to this time.

  Would Mark have been here, she wondered, if things had moved on? If she’d let them move on… enough to confide in him. To ask him to be.

  Donna’s heart answered for her. You’re a fool, Donna O’Connor. The man tried. But you just kept pushing. I care very much about you, but… I can’t do this, was what Mark had been going to say. She just knew it.

  Donna sighed down to her soul, willing herself to stay on the trolley as she heard the consultant coming back, though she actually felt like squeezing out of the open window above her.

  ‘Well, we’re all fixed up,’ Mr Williams said, smiling warmly as he came back into the examination room. ‘If you’d like to pop your things back on, the nurse will take you along for your biopsy. Don’t want you getting lost, do we?’

  Yes we do. Biopsy!? He called it a fine needle aspiration five minutes ago. Donna much preferred the former, less scary description.

  ‘I think we’re dealing with a non-carcinogenic fibroadenoma,’ Mr Williams went on, nodding reassuringly.

  Donna didn’t feel very reassured somehow. Talk English, she wanted to shout. She really had no idea what he was talking about.

  She didn’t need to. Her face must have spoken volumes. Mr Williams smiled again, seated himself on the end of the trolley and set about explaining in simple layman’s language. ‘A benign lump,’ he said. ‘Nothing to worry about, but until we’ve removed a sample, we can’t be sure. That’s where the biopsy comes in.’

  ‘It’s a very simple procedure and quite painless,’ he assured her. ‘You’ll have a local anaesthetic, then a needle will be inserted in order to extract a few cells.’

  Painless? Donna looked at him, unconvinced.

  ‘The good news is, the results should only take about thirty to forty minutes. Is that all right for you?’

  ‘Fine.’ Donna finally offered him a smile. Then smiled at the nurse, because the nurse was smiling at her, but she really didn’t feel like smiling at all.

  ‘Don’t worry, it might look a bit daunting, but it really is a simple procedure,’ the nurse assured her, helped Donna sort herself out, then led her off to the cytology department.

  ‘Dr Smith’s ever so sweet, so don’t feel intimidated,’ she said, once they’d arrived, obviously noticing Donna was about to disappear into her shoes.

  Donna nodded and tugged up her shoulders.

  ‘Take a seat,’ the nurse said, indicating an empty corridor. ‘It should only take about fifteen minutes or so, then you can find your way back to reception.’ She smiled brightly and was gone.

  The nurse was right. It did all look a bit daunting. Donna worried and waited. She was also right about the doctor, to Donna’s relief. Dr Smith was lovely, thank God, explaining the procedure, outlining everything before she actually did it. And the consultant had been right, too. The procedure was painless, even though Donna was sure she must be rigid with fear.

  Twenty minutes later, Donna was trying to find her way back to reception down a myriad of corridors, first one way, then the wrong way, then back on track past the ultrasound department. Then stopping, and walking casually back again.

  It was her. Donna peered around the open double-doors into the waiting area. Leticia! Looking pale, scared and very much on her own.

  So where was he with aspirations to gentleman? Not here, obviously, holding her hand, surprise, surprise. So what did she do? Donna hovered in the corridor. Should she go in and speak to her? Go on and ignore her?

  ‘Leticia Buckland?’ A radiographer called her name, and Donna knew her decision was made. She could hardly duck out of sight when Leticia had looked up and looked straight at her. Wonderful. Just what she needed, a chance of meeting with the imminent mother of Jeremy’s child? She swallowed hard, and actually felt almost sorry for the woman.

  ‘Donna?’ Leti
cia stared at her, then looked around, no doubt wondering who it was Donna was with.

  ‘Hi, Leticia.’ Donna plastered a smile in place and walked over to her. If Leticia was having Jeremy’s baby, especially now she’d realised that the man was a self-preserving rat after their conversation at the pub, then she might well need that shoulder.

  Donna could do that. She might need a little scaffolding this time, to keep her shoulders broad and up there, but she could be a friend to a woman who would most definitely need one.

  ‘So, how are you?’ Donna asked in the absence of anything else suitable to say.

  ‘Good, thank you for asking.’ Leticia smiled, though not very convincingly. ‘You?’

  Donna forced a smile back. ‘Oh, fine,’ she said, airily. ‘You know.’

  ‘Good. I’m glad.’ Leticia smiled timidly again, wringing her hands together in that nervous way she did. ‘Are you here for, er?’ Her eyes flitted to Donna’s midriff.

  Donna knitted her brow, then, ‘Good Lord, no.’ Her eyes shot wide. ‘I haven’t even got… Ahem.’ A man, she was going to say. ‘… an appointment,’ she said instead. ‘Just visiting someone.’

  ‘Ah.’ Leticia nodded, then fiddled idly with her necklace.

  ‘I, um, assume…’ Donna glanced at the telltale little bulge lower down.

  ‘Yes.’ Leticia looked immensely relieved, as if she hadn’t quite known how to tell her. ‘I have my three-monthly scan. Just routine, I hope.’

  ‘I’m sure it’ll be fine.’ Donna smiled, a genuine smile this time, because that’s what the woman needed. Not bitchiness or snide comment. She needed support, especially with someone being obvious by his absence. ‘Is, um…’ Donna hesitated, wondering how to ask after the proud father.

  ‘Jeremy here?’ Leticia finished. ‘No. And nor will he be.’

  ‘Leticia Buckland?’ the radiographer called again, as Leticia hesitated, her eyes conveying a thousand emotions.

  ‘I should go,’ she said. ‘I, er…’

  ‘Do you want me to wait?’ Donna asked, empathising with every one of those emotions.

  Leticia beamed, actual smile lines and all. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Thanks so much Donna, but Daddy’s collecting me.’

  ‘Right, well, you’d better go on in then.’ Donna nodded towards the radiographer, who was looking as if she was about to move on to the next mum-to-be. ‘But call me, Leticia, anytime, if you fancy a chat, or a girl’s night, or maybe someone to go dog-walking with. You have my number.’

  Leticia nodded, her eyes filling up. ‘I’d like that,’ she said, reaching out to give Donna’s hand a squeeze before turning to go in.

  Donna’s little heart fair burst with pride. She’d done it, extended an olive branch to the woman Jeremy had left her for. The soon-to-be mother of his child. She might be superstitious, neurotic, and judgemental, but right then, Donna was mightily pleased with herself.

  She notched up her chin, turned around, and walked — straight into Mark.

  ‘Donna O’Connor…’ he cocked his head to one side, looking absolutely perplexed, ‘you never cease to amaze me.’

  ****

  ‘You doing okay?’ Mark asked as they sat waiting for her results.

  Donna nodded. ‘Uh, huh,’ she said, her huge green eyes like saucers, which told Mark she was anything but.

  ‘Good.’ He took a breath, then tentatively took her hand.

  Donna didn’t say anything. Just looked straight ahead, then, hesitantly, wove her fingers through his.

  ‘How did you know?’ she asked, after a moment.

  Mark took another breath. ‘Alicia,’ he lied, suspecting that coughing up to reading her personal mail and that he informed Alicia might not go a great way towards earning her trust.

  Donna glanced at him curiously.

  ‘She thought I might be able to get here a bit quicker with the assistance of blue-lights and sirens.’

  Donna’s mouth curved into a smile.

  ‘Lorry shed its load, apparently. She had no hope of getting here herself. They’re taking people off the motorway now; lanes closed both ways, but she said she thought you might need, er…’

  ‘A hand to hold?’

  ‘Something like that.’ Mark smiled.

  ‘I do,’ Donna admitted.

  Mark nodded. ‘Hold away.’

  Two minutes later, Donna was quiet, but holding on tight.

  She’d stop his circulation if she held any tighter.

  That was okay. He’d give his hand and the arm attached to it to be able to tell her how he felt and hear the same words back. Now wasn’t the right time though. Mark sighed quietly inside, wondering whether there would ever be a right time. Whether what he so badly wanted to say would be what Donna wanted to hear.

  If it wasn’t, he’d just have to deal with it. Whatever, it would be insensitive to bring it up while she needed to focus on dealing with this.

  The results would be good though. Mark was sure of it.

  They had to be. He tried hard not to think about his mother’s rapid deterioration, whose misplaced pride and fear of the unknown prevented her from seeking the help that could have saved her.

  Could he risk telling Donna he’d be there whatever the outcome, if she wanted him to be, without seeming pushy?

  He would. As soon as the consultant said what he’d got to say and they were alone, he’d tell her, that much at least.

  Mark gave Donna’s hand a reciprocal squeeze as the consultant walked towards them. Christ, just one more miracle please, he prayed hard.

  ‘Donna,’ the consultant smiled, ‘and?’ He looked at Mark.

  ‘Mark. Mark Evans,’ Mark supplied, extending his hand. ‘Donna’s… boyfriend.’

  ‘Well, Donna,’ Mr Williams said, shaking Mark’s hand, ‘good news. The cytology report is back and normal.’

  Donna closed her eyes. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Thank God.’ Mark dragged his hand through his hair. ‘How reliable is it?’ he asked, wrapping an arm instinctively around Donna.

  ‘Ninety-nine point eight percent according to a recent study. Removal would guarantee a clear diagnosis, of course.’

  ‘How would, um?’ Donna trailed off.

  Mark tightened his arm around her.

  ‘Just a small operation. A lumpectomy, to take away your little alien, that’s all.’ Mr Williams smiled reassuringly. ‘It would be carried out under general anaesthetic, as a day-case, so you’d be back cuddling up on the sofa by teatime. I’ll leave you to have a think about it.’

  ‘So, what do you think?’ Mark asked, steering Donna back towards a chair.

  Donna nestled closer. ‘That I quite like having the strong arm of the law draped about me in a crisis.’

  ‘It might need surgery to remove it.’ Mark slowed their walk to a halt and turned to face her. ‘Donna, there’s something I need to say…’ he started, realising now more than ever, that time was too damn precious to waste ‘… about us and where we go from here. But…’

  ‘Cooee, Donna!’

  Great. Perfect-bloody-timing. Mark groaned quietly inside as Simon and Alicia skidded towards them.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ‘Uh, oh, policeman alert,’ Matt called, from where he was attempting to select cross-generational music to please all of the people at his party. ‘Hide the Ecstasy, Mother.’

  Donna turned — trying not to look too ecstatic — from where she was helping Simon supervise Nathan grilling his sausages.

  ‘Oh, blimey.’ Simon removed his arm from Donna’s shoulders tout de suite. ‘We’re just good friends,’ he assured Mark, who walked towards them, one arm around Karl’s shoulders, who was walking side-by-side with Starbuck, but un-tethered.

  Which was most definitely progress. ‘You bought the sunshine.’ Donna smiled, glad Mark had come, even if friends were all they were destined to be. She could do friends, so long as he didn’t stand too close to her with his intoxicating persona… um, aroma.

&nb
sp; Mark smiled his twinkly-eyed smile back. ‘But of course. Madame’s wish is my command.’ He gave her a short bow, and prompted Karl, who handed her the box of chocolates he’d been carrying.

  ‘Ooh, Belgian chocolates! Thank you, Karl. They’re my absolute favourites.’ Donna beamed, delighted with the chocolates and the little boy carrying them, who’d been concentrating hard on his task, if the little “v” in his brow was anything to judge by. ‘But how did you know?’

  ‘Never met a woman yet who didn’t,’ Karl replied smartly.

  ‘Oh.’ Donna glanced from Karl to Mark, uncertain.

  ‘Er, shop assistant. She offered me a bit of advice,’ he said sheepishly, as he handed Donna a bottle of wine. ‘If there’s anything else Madame requires?’

  ‘Flowers,’ Matt whispered, whipping past to relieve Donna of the wine.

  ‘I’m working on it,’ Mark replied likewise, then smiled disarmingly at Donna.

  ‘What are you two up to?’ she asked suspiciously.

  ‘Nothing,’ Mark shrugged, the epitome of innocence. ‘Just man-talk.’

  Hmm? Donna wasn’t convinced. Man-talk and the flower word just didn’t go together somehow. Matt had obviously suggested he bring some, and Mark had obviously thought better of it, thinking Donna might read too much into the gesture.

  But he’d brought chocolates. Donna’s mind drifted back to their conversation, when they’d both been wet through to the skin and shivering in the hall. When he’d held her so close and kissed her so sweetly, he’d set her senses on fire and touched the very core of her. He’d brought a little bit of sunshine into her life then, too. Even through the incessant rain.

  ‘Donna,’ Mark cut through her thoughts, stepping towards her to pinch a sausage from the cooked pile parked next to the barbie, ‘I can see you’re tied up right now, but do you think we could slip off and have a quiet word sometime?’

  ‘About?’ Donna asked, her little butterfly’s wings flapping manically. Was he about to deliver his I care very much about you, but… speech?