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“No.” I can hear her sniffling, “S’okay.” Her tears must be drying – result. “I just wanted to tell you that…” And then the tears start again.
“What? You’re scaring me, Tean.” My heart feels as if it’s climbing into my mouth. What’s happened to her? I’ve never known Tina to be this upset before.
“Oh, Goddddd.” There’s a retching sound. “I think I’m going to be sick.” Shit. She must be hammered. “Audrey, I’m going to die.” I can hear her shuffling now, blowing her nose. At least she hasn’t vomited.
“Die?” I collapse onto the sofa, letting out a sigh of relief. She must be very drunk. “Tina, you’re not going to die, Hun. Just drink plenty of water.” I kick off my shoes and tip my head back on the headrest, “Sleep it off, everything will seem much better in the…” But she doesn’t let me finish.
“I’ve found a lump,” she cries in a little voice.
“A lump?” I leap to the edge of my seat. “Where?” Silence. “Tina!”
“In my breast,” she sobs. “Audrey, I’ve got cancer.”
“What?” My hand closes over my mouth, sealing in a silent scream.
“And there’s more…”
“More?” I exclaim. Oh, God, please don’t let her tell me that she’s known for ages, that it’s spread. That there’s no treatment. Oh, God, oh God. No, no, no.
“I’m so sorry, Audrey…”
“Sorry?” I cry, my eyes bulging with fear. “You’re not making any sense.”
“I did something stupid.” She pauses, blows her nose. “It’s just that I was desperate, and I couldn’t find you, and I tried calling your mum and Louise but they weren’t picking up…and I had no one else to turn to and I…”
“What did you do?” Oh my God, she’s taken an overdose. I’ve got to get off the line, call 999, and get round there fast. I push my feet into my shoes, staring around the room wildly. Where’re my bloody car keys?
“I rang Nick,” she says in a teary voice, “and I begged him to find you for me.”
17
“Nine out of ten breast lumps are benign.” The nurse is small and round with short blonde hair – late fifties, mumsy. “Try not to worry, love,” she says softly. But Tina is a whimpering wreck. “If you can just pop into the changing room over there and slip into this, someone will see you shortly.” Tina snatches the patterned gown from the nurse’s hand, swallowing hard. I give the nurse a knowing look depicting “she doesn’t mean to be rude, it’s just her nerves.” and she smiles at me warmly, eyes soft, kind. I expect she’s used to anxious patients.
“Go on, Tina,” I urge, squeezing her arm, “you’ll be fine.” Although I’m not quite sure who I’m trying to convince, her or me. “I’ll be waiting for you right here.” Her eyes search mine anxiously, gown in hand. I don’t know how she got through the last eleven days, to be honest, let alone this morning. It took a lot of coaxing and pleading to get her to see a specialist. For although initially frantic with worry, she then went into denial, hoping the lump would just go away. It was Nick who persuaded her to see a doctor in the end. He’s very good with words, gentle and calming, and she’s always trusted him.
“Okay,” she says after a few moments, nodding quickly. “Look after my stuff, will you.” And she’s gone.
I take a deep breath and glance around the posh waiting room. We’re at a clinic in Chelsea. Tina’s PR job comes with private medical insurance, thank goodness, because I hate to think how much they charge here. Everyone looks tanned and unlined, and rich!
We arrived bright and early and were seen almost immediately, which was a godsend as a long wait might’ve caused Tina to leg it through their automatic sliding doors. I did see her eyeing them longingly when we first sat down, but were saved just in the nick of time by her consultant, Mr Roberts, a middle-aged man in a lilac wrinkled shirt with gentle brown eyes and a warm smile.
We sat in front of his large, oak desk like two misbehaving school girls stealing glances at each other while he leafed through some paperwork and explained what was going to happen today. A painting of The Sunflower hung slightly lopsided on the otherwise bare magnolia wall behind him. A medical couch with a blue and white curtain loomed in the far corner, but, weirdly, all I could think about was why he left the house in an unironed shirt.
“How do I look?” Tina’s back looking small and vulnerable in her patterned gown, white fluffy robe and slippers. I’m still holding her hand when the radiologist calls out her name. I stand up, like a worried parent, mouth dry. “Can I come in with her please?” I croak, bile swarming my stomach.
“I’m afraid not.” The radiologist crinkles her nose, hand resting on Tina’s back lightly, “No one is allowed in the x-ray room. But don’t worry.” She leans forward on the sole of her white plastic clog peeking from her blue scrubs. “I’ll look after her,” she whispers, clutching Tina’s file close to her chest and giving my arm a light squeeze. “I promise.”
Within fifteen minutes Tina’s back in the waiting room, pale and anxious.
“How was it, Tean?” I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “You look exhausted.”
“So would you be if you had your boobs squeezed between two plates from all directions, it was bloody painful.” She tightens the belt of her dressing gown angrily. A mature lady sitting opposite gives us a thin smile, drawing her black oversized bag close to her chest.
“So what happens now?” I ask.
“Oh, I dunno,” Tina huffs. “A doctor has to read the mammogram or something.” A scent of mango infused shampoo dances under my nose as she loosens her hair. “Then I’ve got to have an ultrasound,” she mumbles, clamping the hairband between her teeth as she gathers her red tresses in her hands. “So, it’s not over yet.”
Tina has nearly worn out the carpet with her foot tapping. We’ve only been waiting thirteen minutes, but each minute seems like an hour. I inhale deeply, stomach clenching. It’ll all be fine, I tell myself. I’ve got to stay strong for Tina.
