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Unfortunately Dan has inherited the curly hair, although his is light brown, and he crops it very short. He’s obviously the middle kid. I smile, although I’m not sure what to make of him. I know he’s the one who connected Sidnie with the so-called Socrates. Sidnie said it was at a nightclub, and I have a sneaky feeling Socrates is a drug dealer, which doesn’t bode well for Dan.
“Pleased to meet you,” Dan says.
“This is my mum, Jane.” Sidnie indicates a woman in her early fifties. She’s the origin of the curly hair, although hers is now gray, and she pulls it back tightly into a ponytail. She’s still attractive, and her eyes sparkle as she shakes my hand. “It’s so good to meet you,” she says. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”
“No we haven’t,” Kate says. “Sid won’t tell us anything.”
I grin. Sidnie rolls her eyes and turns to the last man in the room. “Mack, this is my dad, Craig,” she says unnecessarily.
Craig is mid-fifties with a receding hairline. He looks tired, and his T-shirt hangs on him, suggesting he’s lost weight. But his smile is bright, and when I shake his hand, he rests the other one on top of it and keeps it there.
“I’m so pleased to meet you,” he says.
“Likewise.”
“You’re so young. Much younger than I thought.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
He’s still holding my hand. Looking into my eyes, he swallows hard. “I don’t know how to say thank you.”
“You just have, and you’re very welcome.”
He finally releases my hand, but I can see he’s choked up. Jane moves closer to him and rubs his arm, while sending me a rueful smile.
“You’re going through a very tough time,” I tell them. “I understand how you feel. My dad also had prostate cancer.” I feel Sidnie’s gaze on me, but I don’t look at her.
“I’m sorry,” Jane says. “Is he… okay?”
“Unfortunately it was many years ago, and it wasn’t discovered until it was too late. He died. It’s partly why I try to help others in the same situation—because I know what it feels like. It’s appalling that so many drugs aren’t funded in this country when you can just cross the Ditch and they have them all.” It is frustrating that many of the drugs we can’t get here are available in Australia.
“That’s right,” Jane says, “that’s how we feel.”
“It was such a shock to be told the best drug for me wasn’t funded,” Craig says. “The oncologist said we should try to find the money, but it’s a huge responsibility to put on my family. I was all for just saying screw it, I’m done, but they wanted to try and raise the money, and then I’m the cruel one for refusing to fight, you know?”
“It’s tough all ways round,” I say, as Jane’s face reddens. “Most men are raised to believe it’s their responsibility to provide for the family, and I’m sure it doesn’t come easy to make the conscious decision to put them in debt.”
“I won’t have to now,” he says. “Thanks to you.”
“I’m glad I could help.” My throat tightens at his obvious gratitude.
“Anyway, we should be off,” Sidnie announces, sliding her hand into mine.
“It was so nice to meet you,” Jane says.
“Good luck with the treatment,” I reply. “I hope it goes well.”
I wave goodbye, and we head out into the hallway. I pick up Sidnie’s bag, scolding her as she tries to take it from me, then say, “Christ, what have you got in here? Lead-lined shorts?”
“Ha-ha. Mum made me bring a large tin of Cadbury’s Roses for everyone.”
“Sidnie, we have so much food we’ll be eating until March.”
“I know, but we’re big on manners.”
I unlock the car, put her bag in the back, and we get in. I start the Aston and pull away, and drive to the end of the road.
Checking to make sure there’s nothing behind me, I stop at the Give Way sign, leave the car idling, and turn to face her.
