Page 103 of The Art of Loving You

‘Can I see him please? The radiologist.’

‘He won’t be able to tell you anything. Look, here’s the porter.’ She faked a smile. ‘Cedar Ward please, Trev.’ She hurried away from me. Away from our conversation and my questions, leaving me alone with my fear and this strange man who began to push my wheelchair without warning. Without speaking. Our journey through the almost empty corridor swift and silent. He put the brakes on the wheelchair and with a ‘I’ll tell someone you’re here,’ I was left.

Again, I was alone.

Cedar Ward elicits an image of trees, sunshine, nature – a happy place to be.

It wasn’t.

My neighbours were elderly. One had skin so pale she blended into the pillowcase. The other rattled out a chesty cough every other minute. Neither had baskets of fruit or get well cards on their bedside table.

I shuffled under the covers, the blankets and worry weighing heavily on me.

‘Try not to worry,’ Rowan had said.

Was I reading too much into that sentence, interpreting it to mean I did have something to worry about? Was I making something out of nothing?

Perhaps being kept in for observation was standard. I wasn’t sure how CT scans worked. Whether the radiographer could see live on a screen during the scan or whether a computer needed to transcribe images. I texted Angela.

Can a radiographer tell at a scan if anything is wrong?

A radiographer will send the results to a radiologist who will write a report for the doctor.

Yes. But if something was wrong could they see it?

Radiographers aren’t trained to interpret what they see.

But could they see something wrong?

I waited for the buzz of Angela’s reply. I waited for the screen to light up.

But …

But …

But …

At last my phone vibrated. Her answer just one word.

Yes.

Chapter Thirty-Six

It wasn’t long after breakfast that Mum’s heels click-click-clicked down the stuffy ward until she reached me.

‘Libby.’ She leaned in to kiss me and the lightness of her perfume reminded me I hadn’t washed, cleaned my teeth. I must stink. ‘I came early so I can be here when they do your scan.’

I hitched myself up in bed, adjusting the pillow behind me so it supported my back. ‘I had it yesterday.’

She drew in a sharp breath. ‘Yesterday?’ Her hands fluttered to her neck. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I didn’t want you to worry and I knew I wouldn’t get the results straight away.’

‘So if you’ve had the scan, why are you still here?’

‘They kept me in for observation in case I banged my head or something when I fell.’ As I said the words I so wanted them to be true. They sounded plausible. Perhaps that’s all it was. Routine. Procedure.

Better to be safe than sorry.

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