Page 42 of Together Again at the Cornish Country Hospital

‘And?’

‘You have Addison’s disease.’ For a moment Gwen wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. She’d been so certain that Dr Grainger was going to say aphasia, and when she’d heard the ‘a’ sound, adrenaline had flooded her body, making the roots of her hair feel like they were on fire.

‘What’s Addison’s disease?’ It was left to Barry to ask the question, because Gwen was still too shocked to speak. She’d never heard of it, all she knew was that it wasn’t any of the things she’d feared the most. She didn’t have aphasia, or dementia, or motor neurone disease. So whatever Dr Grainger was about to say, she couldn’t imagine it being any worse than what she’d expected.

‘Addison’s disease is caused by a disorder of the adrenal glands, which sit on top of the kidneys. It results in damage to those glands, meaning you don’t produce enough of the cortisol or aldosterone hormones. This can result in a number of symptoms, including the low blood pressure, dizziness, loss of appetite, increased thirst and difficulty in concentrating that you presented with. It also causes low mood, which might account for some of the other symptoms you described.’

‘Is it serious?’ Barry was still asking all of the questions, instinctively understanding that Gwen was struggling to process what the doctor was saying.

‘If left untreated it can be very serious, even fatal, but with the right treatment patients can have a normal life span. Gwen will have to stay on medication for the rest of her life, and if she experiences an adrenal crisis at any stage, it will be treated as a medical emergency and you’ll both need to know how to administer a hydrocortisone injection. I know it’s a lot to take in, but it really is a manageable condition, and my team will be here to support you. So I don’t want you to worry too much.’

‘It’s about the best news you could have given me.’ Gwen finally found her voice. ‘I was struggling so much to concentrate on anything, and I’d convinced myself I had aphasia, like my mother, but now I wonder if the fear was making everything worse. I tried to talk some sense into myself about how different some of this was from what Mum went through, but I was worried I was losing my mind because the symptoms kept coming and going, and it felt like I didn’t know myself at all any more.’

‘The symptoms of Addison’s disease can be very debilitating and can mimic a number of other conditions. They can also come and go in the earlier stages of the disease, but I promise it will all get much better once you start treatment.’

‘Thank you.’ Gwen could happily have hugged the woman sitting opposite, who was now giving her a reassuring smile. One thing she knew for certain was that Dr Grainger would never be paying for another Crunchie bar herself, but there was still one question she needed to ask. ‘What causes Addison’s disease?’

‘It’s usually a problem with the autoimmune system, which makes the body attack itself. When that happens to the adrenal glands, it disrupts the production of the hormones. We’ll be carrying out some more tests to make sure we don’t need to treat another underlying condition, but there’s nothing in the tests we’ve conducted so far to raise any concerns, and we’ve been able to rule out it having been caused by cancer cells in the adrenal glands. Hopefully we’ll be able to get you back on track and feeling much more like your old self really soon.’

‘There’s nothing I want more than to feel like my old self. Thank you.’ Gwen felt the pressure of Barry’s hand again as she spoke, knowing there was nothing more he wanted either. They continued holding hands through the rest of the appointment, as Dr Grainger, a consultant endocrinologist, outlined the next steps in Gwen’s treatment.

‘I don’t know about you, Gee, but I feel like I’ve won the lottery three times over.’ Barry was grinning from ear to ear as they walked down the corridor towards the pharmacy, where they’d be picking up Gwen’s first prescription.

‘Me too and I love you so much.’ She tugged on his hand to stop him and he turned to face her.

‘Not as much as I love you Mrs Jones, and that wouldn’t have changed whatever your diagnosis had been. But now we can plan for lots more adventures, I know we’ve never held back on those, but if there’s something we want to do, I’m not going to let anything stop us.’

‘Me neither and while we’re on the subject, there are a couple of things I want to do straight away. The first one is this.’ Letting go of his hand, she reached up to touch his face, pulling it close to hers and kissing him like her life depended on it. Someone walking past gave a wolf whistle, but Gwen had never been shy about showing how much she loved her husband and right now he might as well have been the only other person on earth.

‘Well, that was great.’ He grinned when she finally let him go. ‘Dare I ask what the other thing is?’

‘I want to go and buy a pair of killer heels that cost far more than they should, and that are far too fancy for someone like me. Then I want to wear them to go dancing as soon as I feel up to it. No Velcro sandals for me, not now, not ever.’

‘You were made for killer heels, my darling girl, and nothing is too fancy, because you deserve the best.’ Barry took hold of her hand again, and they continued down the corridor together, into a future they were determined to treasure every second of, no matter what it threw at them.

* * *

When it was just Amy and Lijah together, it was easy to believe he was the same person he’d been back when they’d first met, an irresistible juxtaposition of confidence and insecurity that had allowed him to perform in front of crowds of people – albeit fairly modest crowds, back then – but at the same time had left him stuttering slightly when he’d first admitted how he felt about her. Their go-to date in those days had been the cinema. They’d gone by bus most weeks to the one in Port Tremellien, which had two screens. The main screen seated up a hundred and fifty people, and the smaller screen less than thirty. Screen two had always been their favourite. There was something about the cosiness of it and Lijah had said when he made it with his music, he’d buy them a house with their very own cinema room, which would be a replica of screen two.

It had been a fun game of make believe, one they’d indulged in more and more as their relationship progressed, talking about how many children they’d have, where they’d live, and how they’d balance Amy’s nursing career with Lijah’s dream. Amy had never doubted that Lijah had the talent, but people from fishing villages on the west coast of Cornwall didn’t become famous. She hadn’t realised until later how much a part of her had hoped it wouldn’t happen. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Lijah to get his dream, she just didn’t want anything to change or come between them. She’d have been happy to continue getting the bus to Port Tremellien and playing make believe, because screen two was enough for her as long as she had Lijah. She didn’t need a cinema room of her own.

It was when she realised what Lijah was willing to sacrifice to follow his dream that she’d known they wouldn’t last. He wanted a life so different from the one she loved, and she couldn’t hold him back from that. She knew she couldn’t follow him either, desperately clinging on to his coat tails and hoping there was enough of the old Lijah left to still want her around, even if he wanted everything else to change.

Even now, she had no idea how she was supposed to be certain of that. When they shut out the rest of the world, it was much easier to believe that he was still the same Lijah, whose dreams had always included building a future with her. But the trouble was, the rest of the world didn’t seem to believe that could possibly be true, and as much as Amy didn’t want to listen, the things people were saying online tapped into every insecurity she’d ever had. She was trying not to look, just as Lijah had advised, but it was much harder than she would ever have thought possible. If she let it, the vitriol some people spouted could reach her even when she was within the sanctuary of her own home, and she was trying to devise strategies to counter that.

Closing the door behind her when she came in from her shift, Amy hung up her coat in the hallway, leaving her phone in the pocket, determined not to let the rest of the world creep in for a while.

‘How was your day?’ Lijah was in the kitchen when she walked through. He was still keeping an eye on Monty, even though the little dog didn’t need constant watching any more. Amy suspected he wanted an excuse to be at her house all the time, as much as she wanted an excuse for him to be there. Lijah looked remarkably at home in her place, cooking the same pasta bake that had been his speciality at eighteen, and acting as though there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be, and no one he’d rather be with. She had to remind herself they were just playing make believe again, because this wasn’t his world any more and, regardless of what happened between them, they wouldn’t be able to spend their whole lives hanging out in her little flat.

‘Work was busy, not helped by the fact that at least some of the patients were journalists faking an illness to try and get a photo of the woman who’s stolen Lijah Byrne from his public.’ Amy wrinkled her nose.

‘Stolen my heart maybe.’ He laughed at the expression on her face.

‘Are you going to have enough cheese left for the pasta with lines like that?’ It was something she said to him a lot, any time he tried to talk too much about feelings, but they both knew it was a defence mechanism, because it was the same line she’d used when they were teenagers, for the exact same reason. She couldn’t help joining in when he laughed in response, and he clearly wasn’t put off by her accusations of cheesiness.

‘I was going to write a song for you too, about how I’ve only ever made pasta bake, for the one girl who made my heart ache. You can forget that now, and it had an Ivor Novello award written all over it too!’ He was laughing even more now, the warmth in his conker-coloured eyes making something inside her ache with longing, despite the ridiculousness of the fake lyrics.

‘I’ll suppose I’ll just have to accept that I’ll never be your muse again.’ She gave a mock sigh.

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