Page 57 of Chocolate Cake for Breakfast
If he intends to release it in instalments on the hotel website,eventually he’s going to need to reveal the ending. But I haven’t even workedout yet what the ending will be...
I decide to make some notes now, but as usual, there’s not asingle pen in the house apparently – despite the fact that I bought a giantpack just a few months ago. I go through to Dad’s study. He’s bound to havesome spares in the pen tidy on his desk and sure enough, he does. I pick oneout and I’m about to leave when I catch sight of his desk diary, where herecords things like birthdays and dental appointments. It’s lying open attoday’s date and there’s just one entry. I glance over at it, puzzled, becauseI can’t think what it would be.
When I read what it says, my heart misses a beat.
Hospital. 2pm. Test results.
Shocked, I stand there, my mind reeling. Why didn’t Dad tellme he was getting his results today? Was he trying to protect me somehow? I’dhave wanted to go with him, of course. But maybe he wanted to be there on hisown to hear his fate? So he’d have time to pull himself together before he hadto tell me the bad news...
I wander slowly downstairs, almost wishing I didn’t know.There’s no way I’ll be able to concentrate on my story now, knowing that Dadcould be back at any moment.
My mind wanders to the gin and tonic I drank at Logan’s theother night. I could do with one of those right now, to be honest, to still thenerves. I need to know. And yet I don’t want to know. It’s sure to be bad news.It can’t be anything else. Can it?
I sit stewing for a while, and then I hear his car and thekey in the door.
My heart starts beating fast, but I greet him normally atthe door. ‘Hi, Dad.’ We hug and he smells of the hospital.
Drawing away, he smiles wistfully. ‘Life is so precious,isn’t it? We should grab it with both hands and live it to the full everysingle day but we hardly ever do.’ He pulls off his tie and crosses to thewindow, staring silently at his beloved garden.
Oh, no! Please no! I can’t lose him. Don’t let it be badnews.
Already, I’m steeling myself for the worst. It’s bad news.It must be. He wouldn’t be talking like this if it wasn’t.
But when he turns around, he’s smiling. A broad smile thatmakes my heart jump in hope.
‘I know you got the results today,’ I blurt out. ‘I saw itin your diary.’
‘Did you?’ He looks concerned. ‘Oh, Martha, I didn’t tellyou when my appointment was because I knew you’d worry. But the thing is...there’s not as much to worry about as we thought.’
‘Really?’ I stare at him, hardly daring to believe this. Ishe putting on a brave face for my benefit?
He takes my hands in his. ‘You know I lost my spleen when Iwas a teenager?’
‘The car accident, yes. Surgeons had to remove it because itwas damaged.’
‘Exactly. So what I’m apparently suffering from is somethingcalled splenosis.’
‘Splenosis? What’s that?’
‘Well, I’m told that trauma to the spleen can sometimescause tissue to be released into the body. It could go into the lungs...the chest... anywhere in the body. But in my case, it went tomy kidney.’
‘So that’s the mass they found in your kidney?’
He nods. ‘Sometimes the lesions can bleed, which was why Iwas coughing up blood. It’s quite a rare condition which is why the consultantsdidn’t pick up on it immediately. But the great news is it’s not cancer,Martha, and it’s definitely treatable.’
The sheer relief I feel at this news renders me utterlyspeechless for a moment.
‘Oh, Dad,’ I say at last, as he comes over and we hug as ifwe’ll never let go. My voice is choked and tears are soaking into his jumper.After all the worry over the past weeks, I can’t quite take it in.
Everything’s going to be all right.
*****
‘Dad? Can I ask you something?’
We’re sitting in the living room later, having opened abottle of Prosecco to celebrate his news, and there’s a question that’s been onmy mind ever since Sam told me that Primrose was suffering from postnataldepression.
He smiles. ‘Of course you can. Ask away.’
