Page 43 of The Seaside Supper Club

‘Yep, that works.’ She couldn’t help but smile.

And they sat there grinning and sipping ginger beer in the sun, amidst the worry, the pain and confusion, the what-ifs and the what-nexts.

Will then puffed out a slow sigh. ‘Ah, but it’s a real shame that all this, here, is going to have to be on hold for a bit. My dreams of doing up the bungalow this summer are pretty much stalled.’ The reality of his surgery and the time he’d need for recovery, that he’d learned in much more detail today, was sinking in. ‘It might be weeks until I’m able to get back to any physical work. Bastard Clive.’

‘Hey, there’s no need to pressure yourself with any of this, my love, the renovations can wait. And this bungalow has been standing a long time, in a far worse condition. It’s been waiting years for its second chapter, a couple more months won’t hurt.’

‘Well, my heart’s not really been in it these last few weeks, I suppose. And today, finding out how I’m likely to feel post-op, well, I’ll hardly be able to get to work in the cycle shop for a while, let alone do any painting and decorating.’

‘It’ll be frustrating, for sure. But you really don’t want to be taking on too much, too soon. After that op, you’ll need to give yourself the chance to heal. That’s the most important thing.’ She reached a hand to brush his bare forearm, reassuringly. ‘And all this’ – she gestured at the wooden hut – ‘it’ll still be here, when you’re feeling back to yourself again. Doing the place up, well, it’ll be something to look forward to. At least the main structural repairs are done. That was such a good move, getting the roof sorted. And you said the joiner’ll be back next week to fix those last rotten slats. It’ll stay sound. So, there’s no need to pressure yourself.’ Cath was ever the voice of reason.

‘Yeah, you’re right …’ he conceded, glancing back inside with a longing gaze, as though he wished he could wave a magic wand over it all and transform it, there and then.

‘Give it time …’ added Cath, gently. She meant the hut, and his healing.

Will looked right at her, his beautiful hazel-brown eyes seeming troubled. His real fears bubbling to the surface. ‘I can’t knock the NHS, but having been through that hell with Jane, I just want it out. It’s a nightmare knowing I’m walking around with a cancer inside me. I mean what the hell are those cells doing right now? I want it over with. The op. Like, let’s get on with it, get the bloody cancer out of my body, so it can’t cause any more trouble.’

‘Yeah, I can understand that.’ Her tone was gentle, caring. After everything he’d been through with his wife, it must be extraordinarily tough to know you had cancer, too. To be reliving that nightmare. But this was different, she told herself. Will’s cancer was very different.

‘If it’s still to be two weeks yet …’ – which was what the consultant had mentioned – ‘then they’re going to seem bloody long ones,’ he admitted.

‘For sure. But you’ve got your work to focus on. And you can maybe do some of your shorter cycle rides.’ She didn’t want him to overdo it with his long-haul trails, right now. He may not have had many symptoms, but he needed to keep sound and look after himself before surgery. ‘And hey, I’ll be around too.’

He nodded, but didn’t look convinced. Naturally, he was bound to be so very worried about everything yet to come.

In contrast to the storms they were facing within, it was a beautiful afternoon at the bay, with only a few wisps of cloud streaking the azure sky. If they’d have thought about it, and brought a few practical things with them, it might have been nice to stay over. Watch the sky melt into the flame colours of sunset, listen to the gulls and the hush of the waves as dusk fell, Cath thought longingly, and stay up to watch the stars come out. Oh, and then, make the most of the sofa bed. While everything was as it was …

Cath took a slow breath. Making love might change very much for them. They’d been informed by the specialist nurse, that after surgery it might be several weeks before Will might begin to feel like sex, and even then, physically it was likely to be a very different experience, with erection problems and urine leakage – the joys – to contend with. Will had seemed to shrink into himself in the consulting room at that point.

The physical and mental impacts were not going to be easy or pleasant for him. Cath had already looked up the likely side-effects online, too. Soaking in every grain of knowledge, spending ages on the Prostate Cancer UK site which was so helpful; reading the blogs of prostate cancer survivors, and learning about their experiences, the problems with peeing, the inevitable loss of libido, dealing with erectile dysfunction … It didn’t make for easy reading.

What fate lay in store for her gorgeous Will? She couldn’t help but worry for him. But hey, she told herself, any of that could be countered, be given time to heal, if they could only stop the cancer in its tracks. Keep Will safe, alive and well. Give him, them, their future back. That was the name of the game here.

They’d face what they had to, together, one day at a time, resolved Cath.

Trying to be more positive, she suggested, ‘We could maybe come back over this weekend? Make a small start here. Maybe paint the loo, or something, on your next day off. Perhaps tie it in with when the joiner’s here doing those repairs. If you promise not to take on too much.’ It might well help take his mind off things.

He gave a small smile. ‘Yes, shall we come back? Make a start … And, we could have that night over here, whilst the weather is warm, and before …’

Before it all changes … they were both thinking.

Chapter 18

Will had a dusting of white paint over his hair, and a fleck or two stuck on his eyebrows. He’d tackled the beach bungalow’s ceilings, lightening them to a bright white to lift the space; thinking it made sense to do that first. Whilst Cath had started small and achievable, focusing on the toilet’s walls – with the repairs to the wood having been completed the day before – choosing a white with a hint of pebble grey called ‘Whisper’. If they liked it, they figured they might, in time and post-surgery, follow that shade through to the living space.

Cath grinned, looking at his speckled hair, thinking that he looked like an older version of himself. A glimpse of the grey-headed, still rather gorgeous chap, he might become in time. If they had time …

Of course, they did. Cath shook off that morose thought. All would be well. Being Sunday, the appointment for his surgery, with Will having confirmed the decision to go for the operation, was only four days away. She reached out to dab at the paint flecks on his brows, but they had set. She smiled. They were so very close, his eyes smiling amusedly back, and the air suddenly felt charged between them. Like the only natural thing to do right now was to steal a kiss. Their lips met tenderly at first, and then all those heightened emotions became channelled into that caress. Her heart felt so damn full of love and fear, right now.

They were soon lost to the moment. His hand clutching her back, drawing her even closer to him. Her hands ruffling through his paint-dusted hair.

‘Oh, Will.’

‘Cath …’ His voice sounded husky with need, and love. Those myriad emotions of the past weeks rolling into a wave of longing.

They’d already set up the sofa bed for later, and the two of them tumbled back onto it. Will kissed her once more, whilst expertly undoing a button at her chest, slipping a hand inside her cotton blouse, finding her breast. Every nerve end in her body now on high alert and exquisitely tingling.

His lips moved away from hers, tracing her chin, her neck, to follow his hand … Oh my. Zips undone, clothes discarded. His hips and lower body moving to press, oh so firmly, against her, like a promise, as she lay beneath him.