Page 42 of The Seaside Supper Club

Oh crikey, Cath could feel another batch of scones, and a request for more of Lily’s strawberry-cream sponges, and in fact anyone who could help out with bakes, coming on. But bless, it was lovely that the residents here were all so excited about the afternoon tea. Life was short – and oh, how much more was that sinking in now with Will’s troubling diagnosis. It was a lesson to enjoy life while you can. So yes, Cath thought, the more the bloody merrier.

Chapter 17

A few days later, and the multidisciplinary team meeting had taken place, with a follow-up appointment with the consultant urologist, to talk everything through with Will.

He and Cath were now back at his house, after the hospital trip, Cath still feeling a whirl of emotions. Will had asked that Cath be with him at the hospital meeting this time, which had felt like a major step forward. She was so pleased that he’d wanted and trusted her to be there. That he’d realised the strength of her commitment and love, and that they could move forward as a team on this.

There was so much to take in, however. The decision to be made was a difficult one. It was tough hearing about the delicate operation to remove the prostate and its likely side-effects, and the alternatives – or follow up, if required – of radiotherapy options, along with hormone therapy. She could almost feel Will cringing beside her on learning how it might affect him. There was, of course, no easy fix. The consultant and specialist nurse gave their opinions, and their best advice formed by years of experience. And then, the decision was ultimately Will’s to make.

Even before this meeting, he’d practically decided that surgery was the way forward for him – getting the cancer out there and then, in one go, was his way of thinking – but the team had advised him to go home and carefully consider his options. The implications would affect his future, his life. All of their lives.

‘Shall we escape to the sea?’ he asked her, as she was about to offer to make coffee, which seemed to be her default action these days.

‘Are you planning to take me on a cruise?’ Cath jested fondly.

‘I wish. Well, that would be rather nice,’ he responded. ‘But I might miss my rather important date with the surgeon.’

‘Who might yet be a machine …’

‘Yeah, that was a bit weird when they said it might be a robot doing keyhole.’

‘It’s a whole new world these days.’

‘As long as he … it, I suppose, does a good job, I don’t really care. Bring it on. Anyway, I’m downgrading my offer to fish and chips and a walk on the seafront.’

‘Ah, okay. That does sound a fine idea, actually.’ Something normal in the new scary world of tackling cancer they’d found themselves in. Cath had to admit, the four walls of his kitchen, with the photos of Jane and the girls (who still didn’t know a thing about all this), were making her already mushed-up brain feel a bit overcrowded. The sea air might help clear both their heads. She could still smell the clinical aroma of the hospital on them. It’d whip that away, for sure.

*

Will had grabbed a few essentials, changed his shoes to trainers, and snatched up his car keys. They’d then paused at Cath’s cottage so she could do the same. Now, as they rounded the moorland hill that led down to the A1, the North Sea was in their sights. An indigo-blue strip drawing them enticingly to it, there on the horizon, past a zig-zag of green fields, and beyond the towering outline of Bamburgh Castle.

‘Seahouses for fish and chips?’ he suggested. ‘They have the best ones there. Sat on the harbour, and straight out of the bag.’

‘Oh, yes. Happy with that. You so know how to spoil a girl.’ She gave a grin.

Sitting with piping hot, salt-and-vinegared, crispy fish and chips on their laps, whilst looking out over the fishing and tourist boats bobbing in the harbour, they chatted. Will was going to phone the consultant first thing in the morning. His decision on proceeding with surgery was final.

With a couple of hours yet to spare this afternoon, Will having asked Josh to fill in at the cycle shop today, they decided to take a drive further along the coast. It was only fifteen more minutes to get to Low Newton. The beach was so lovely there for a walk, and Will suggested they might go and check the beach bungalow, having popped the hut keys in his pocket, back at the house, just in case. They stopped to buy soft drinks at the village shop in Beadnell en route, thinking that it might be nice to sit outside on the deck for a while.

Strolling the sands holding hands – which meant so much more now, togetherness … support … I’m here – and with no rush at all, they took in the summer sights and sounds feeling the sea breeze on their skin. They then headed up the wonky wooden steps, away from the families and the dog walkers and the holidaymakers into what they now felt was their special part of the dunes. And there it was, Will’s wooden hut, which today especially very much felt like a haven.

Unlocking the door to the bungalow, Cath was relieved to see it mice-free – woohoo! – and just as they had left it those few weeks ago, when they’d all been there for the glorious paella day. Those happy, easy-going days would come again, Cath buoyed herself with the thought. Even in the midst of uncertainty and Will’s difficult medical choices, they would continue to find moments of joy. Cath was more determined than ever to seek them out.

The sun streamed onto the deck, in contrast to the rather cool and dark interior, so they took the two director’s chairs back out with them, and Cath fetched a couple of glasses for their drinks.

As they settled down, sipping refreshing ginger beer, looking out to sea, Will began to open up. ‘Did you hear the nurse suggesting I give it a name, my cancer?’

‘Oh, yes, … r-ight.’ It was coming back to her now. It had sounded rather odd at the time.

‘Apparently, it makes it less scary. I wondered about Colin.’

‘Well, it’s certainly not a scary kind of name, but it does make me think about cake and caterpillars,’ said Cath, with a wry expression.

‘Ah, yes, hadn’t thought about that. Better not desecrate Colin the Caterpillar, that was always the girls’ favourite birthday cake.’

This was such a bizarre conversation to be having pre-surgery. But weirdly it was actually helping to lift the mood.

‘I’ve got it!’ he announced. ‘Clive. I’m gonna kick Clive’s ass the hell out of here,’ he said with an American drawl.