Page 32 of The Seaside Supper Club

‘Oh, my love.’ At last, she was able to take him in her arms, and she felt his weight sink against her as she gathered him to her. They held each other for a silent second or two.

He pulled back to say, ‘I can’t believe that this is happening, Cath.’

‘I know. I’m struggling to process this as well. But it’s just the test stage, remember, Will.’

‘I know, I know. I keep telling myself that, too. But my granda’ had it, prostate cancer. I remembered in the GP surgery … there were a load of questions. I’d gone to ask about the fatigue, and mentioned needing to pee a bit more. They did a well-man check whilst I was in, I was due one soon anyway … the urine test was fine, and then there were all these questions. And Granda’, yeah, he died from cancer … and I tried to remember what kind it was. Prostate … They suggested the test, and well, here we now are.’ He released a long slow sigh.

‘Oh, Will. At least, if there is anything, hopefully we’ve caught it early …’ Cath knew Will would want to be realistic, and positive. Genetics did seem to play a part. Of course, she’d already been on to Google, between lessons, just to find out a few facts. See where they might start with all this. She’d found the Prostate Cancer UK website. There were many different stages of the cancer, several options for treatment, surgery being one … But for now, she needed to mentally put all that on hold. Who she needed to hold and support right now was Will.

‘Christ, I hope this MRI appointment doesn’t take long to come in,’ he added. ‘If it is cancer, I want them to find it and get it out, as soon as …’

‘Of course. But hey, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’ One day at a time. One stage at a time. It was all they could do.

He held her gaze, adding earnestly, ‘Cath, we can’t tell anyone, not yet. Not until after the scan, the tests and whatever comes next. It might yet be a false alarm. And the girls …’ He was lost for words then. The pain, at the mere thought of having to tell them such devastating news, was etched across his face. He absolutely didn’t want to be the one to drag them all back through hell.

‘Of course, we can keep this to ourselves for now. No need to worry the girls. But hey, you can talk to me, at any time.’ She had a strong feeling Will would keep this news, and the conflicting emotions he was bound to be having, so close that it would smoulder away inside.

He nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘Another coffee?’ she offered. After fetching a second mug and the milk, she reached for the cafetière. Bloody hell, she felt like she needed a double gin, not another coffee. But that, of course, wasn’t the answer.

They were both now sitting at the kitchen table trying to make sense of this. It was going to feel like a damn long two weeks until the scan – which he’d been advised it was likely to be – she knew that much. From looking up prostate cancer earlier, even if it was contained, there was a strong likelihood of surgery or radiotherapy, and there were a whole host of side- and after-effects to consider. If the PSA indicator was right, then the next chapter in Will’s life, and naturally hers too, was going to be a difficult one.

After a light supper of mushroom and cheese omelettes with salad – something easy that she already had in – they moved to the lounge, settling onto the sofa together.

She leaned in against Will’s chest, and he brought his arm around her. She could feel his beautiful heart beating below her, as he held her tenderly to him. This test, the scan … it was their secret to keep for now. He’d insisted there was no need to worry family or friends. She loved how he was doing his best to protect everyone else, whilst faced with this terrible dilemma. Beneath his sometimes cool exterior, lay a heart that cared so much.

‘Whatever it is, we’ll face this together,’ Cath said in a calm, steady voice.

Chapter 12

Cath and Will could hear familiar voices chatting, giggling, and one – sounding very like Andreas – complaining about the weight of the cool box, and that his arms were feeling like they were ten feet long. Their supper club gang must be traipsing up the rather steep bank of the dune.

They couldn’t help but smile at each other. It was the weekend after Will’s troubling PSA test result. There was a hint of nervousness about Will’s health secret between them, but they were both looking forward to an afternoon spent with close friends at the bungalow on the coast. The appointment for the scan had come through for the end of the following week, and there was no point sitting at home and dwelling on things.

The beach hut was still very much a work-in-progress, more or less an empty shell, but at least the National Trust had agreed to the initial external works, and the building contractor – a friend of Will’s who’d fitted him in quickly after a last-minute cancellation, had managed to re-roof the bungalow and was coming back soon to replace several planks of rotten wood to its sides and floorboards. In fact, after he’d finished, there probably wouldn’t be an awful lot of the original wood left, but that was no bad thing.

When the supper club group had last met up at the lads’ flat above the stores, moving forward the plans for the Tilldale Afternoon Tea, they’d ended up chatting about the coastal hideaway, with Dan desperate to take a look, and Andreas hinting again on the WhatsApp group that he’d love a trip to the coast to see the new inheritance, whatever its condition. With the invite made, they then leapt in, offering to cook and make it the next supper club meet-up; which was a relief to Will who was well aware of the hut’s extremely limited kitchen facilities, or indeed, any other facilities at present. Nosiness and excitement were a driving factor for the lads, for certain.

As for today’s ‘supper’ menu, well that was still under wraps. Something that ‘reminded you of holidays and the sea’ was all Dan had hinted at. Fish and chips, had come to mind for Cath, but unless it was a takeaway, that was more than a tricky task to create on a camping stove. With no electric, there was, of course, no fridge in the place, either. Cath and Will had warned the others, but they’d still insisted on coming over and cooking, rather than a picnic.

With it now being mid-May, they were having to use cool bags and ice packs for the fridge essentials. Will had just been out to buy some big bags of ice cubes from the local mini-market, to fill an ice bucket for the white wine he and Cath had brought over. And, not-standing on ceremony, a black plastic bucket in which to chill some bottles of beer and soft drinks.

‘Over here!’ called Cath, as the footsteps and voices approached. The dunes could be a bit of a maze, with the various huts dotted here and there.

The pair of them then spotted the top of Andreas’s dark hair. ‘At last.’ A rather bedraggled Andreas, in striped-pink-and-navy short-sleeved shirt and beige chino shorts, was sweating his way along the dune ridge. It was a rather warm day. ‘I feel like a bloody pack horse.’

‘Oh, stop it. I’m sure you’ve managed fine. You keep telling me how you’ve got the biggest muscles,’ Dan teased, appearing from behind him. ‘Anyway, we’re here now. Honestly, you’d think we’ve made him walk the Sahara Desert with that cool box. Hello, folks.’

‘Hi, and welcome,’ greeted Will. ‘Can I help?’ He got up from his chair – they’d brought over a few practical essentials – and reached to take one of the bags from Andreas.

‘Thank you. And well, I am rather parched,’ said Andreas, giving a hopeful wink. ‘Hi, guys.’

‘Hello, lads,’ responded Cath, smiling at their banter. ‘Brought the kitchen sink with you, I see.’

‘Nearly. I don’t think we’d figured quite how far the walk was,’ admitted Dan, a few droplets of sweat beading his brow.

Will headed in to grab some cold beers, whilst Cath gave Andreas and Dan welcoming hugs.