The Other Life of Charlotte Evans Page 6

  ‘Like what, exactly? Because the best-friends-having-no-secrets thing only works if it’s two-sided, you know.’

  ‘I do know. It’s just…’ At times over the last week or so Charlotte had felt as if she might explode; the panic was so heavy and so real. And once or twice she’d dialled her friend’s number to tell her everything, but had held back. Because what was the point of everyone fretting if it proved to be nothing?

  And yet…

  There were ten minutes before everyone else joined them for the bridesmaid-dress fittings so she told her best friend for ever about the lump and the appointments and waiting for the results, and even managed not to cry, and felt a whole lot better just getting it off her chest.

  Lissa, however, had gone paler than ever as she squeezed Charlotte’s hand. ‘Shit, shit and double shit. Shit again.’

  ‘You have such a way with words, but yes. That. In a nutshell.’ Charlotte breathed out slowly. It felt as if she’d been holding her breath ever since Ben had told her he’d felt a lump and now she was able to let just a little bit of it go. It truly did seem that a problem shared was also halved. Or quartered at least. ‘But you mustn’t say anything to anyone. Please. Promise me. I don’t know what it is and I don’t want to have to talk about it until I’m sure either way.’

  ‘Pinky promise.’ Lissa spat on her palm and offered it to Charlotte. Something they’d done since they’d met on that first day at ballet school. ‘Bugger.’

  Charlotte shook Lissa’s hand. A little reluctantly, because hadn’t they grown out of that yet? ‘Yes. It has put a downer on things. And nothing’s definite yet so I feel like I’m in limbo land. But forgive me for not getting all excited about my dress. It is nice. Nice is about all I can muster.’ Charlotte pulled the sculpted strapless top away from her chest and looked down at her boobs, at the purple and yellow bruise where the fine needle had proved not to be so fine after all. She’d never really paid her breasts much attention, but now she was looking at them every other second. ‘I don’t know if I’ll even have these puppies to fit into it by the time it’s aisle-time.’

  ‘Silly cow. Of course you will. You can stop that kind of talk right now.’ Lissa slid her arm around Charlotte’s shoulders. ‘I don’t know why the heck you didn’t tell me.’

  ‘My head’s been in a whirl. It’s like a bad dream and I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. I didn’t want to believe it and I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.’

  Lissa shook her black locks. ‘I don’t, actually. You’re a survivor, Charlotte Evans, and a fighter. So if it came to it, that’s what you’d do. You’d fight like hell. And I’d fight along with you. Pity doesn’t come into it.’

  ‘Thanks.’ This was what made her cry. Not the cancer. Not the lump. But this support and love and friendship.

  ‘No problem. Now… put your game face on, the girls are here.’

  So she did, grateful to have a straight talker like Lissa in her life.

  She faux-grinned as Eileen, Sonja, Niamh, Niamh’s little daughter and wedding flower girl, Poppy, Shelley and Mia all crammed through the door, chattering and giggling, and there wasn’t any opportunity to feel anything other than blessed as they all commented on how beautiful and bride-like she looked in her dress. How excited they were about the hen party and the wedding and God, I wish I looked like that as they all stared at Lissa in her dress, completely and utterly non-meringue-like.

  Champagne flowed. Eileen was holding up her end; there’d been no mention of the lump. But Charlotte was aware of her mother’s eyes on her, watching her – or rather, watching over her – and there was an air of sadness around her. Black shadows under her eyes.

  Then there was Lissa, grinning outwardly, but every now and then her concentration seemed to dip and she went pale and wrapped her arm over her stomach. And with a smile that was more bravado than anything else she’d wink and nod – you’ll be fine, girlfriend.

  And she was.

  Loosened by the champagne, Shelley was mooning over the forthcoming nuptials. ‘Well, we all look bloody amazing. It’s going to be just amazing. I’m soooo jealous. I want to get married too. I want someone to marry me. It’s just my typical luck there’s a man drought as I hit thirty. Or rather, a decent-man drought. Plenty of losers out there, though, unfortunately. When did you know Ben was The One for you, Charlie?’

  Ben’s older sister, Sonja, snorted. ‘Our Ben? The One? The number-one eejit at the party, perhaps.’

  But Charlie couldn’t forget how her fiancé had held her hand during her procedure the other day and how gentle he’d been with her ever since. Still no lovemaking, though… despite what he’d said in the consultation room about looking forward to it. And only barely-there touching when he absolutely couldn’t avoid it. Which made her heart hurt. This lump had pushed a wedge between them at a time when they should have been closer than ever. ‘Actually, I knew he was The One the moment I met him.’

  Shelley’s hand covered her heart. ‘Oh, that’s so romantic. Love at first sight. Really? So it does exist, then?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid.’ Lissa, ever the realist, jumped in. ‘Lust at first sight, maybe. Wanting to jump their bones at first sight, absolutely. But love? Real, deep-down, forever love? I doubt it.’

  Charlotte tried to remember when exactly she’d known. ‘Well, not actually the second I laid eyes on him. But that first evening, there was something there. A spark I hadn’t had before with anyone else.’

  ‘The only spark our Ben would make is if he rewired the light fittings the wrong way, which could happen. Believe me.’ Sonja looked over at her sister, Niamh, and they both shook their heads, helpless with laughter.

  But Charlotte’s heart pinged. There was still a spark there, wasn’t there? Yes. Yes, there was. She was just going to have to work a little harder to rekindle it. ‘You don’t know him like I do.’

  The two sisters looked at each other and pulled faces. ‘Eugh. No thank you.’

  More laughter filled the room. The conversation was going rapidly downhill.

  As always, it was Mum to the rescue. ‘When I met your father I knew instantly that I’d marry him.’

  ‘Ooh? How did you and John meet, Eileen?’ Shelley filled everyone’s glasses with the last of the bubbly. The shop assistant’s attention had been taken up by a phone call so there was little harm just sitting here a bit longer.

  ‘I met him at a concert. On the way to a concert, to be precise. Nineteen-sixty-nine. The Beatles. On the roof of the Apple Records offices. Last concert they ever did.’ Mum’s eyes were dancing at the memory. ‘I skipped lectures to go. I was so scared I’d get found out and lose my place at teacher-training college.’

  ‘Mum! I always thought you were such a goody two-shoes.’ Charlotte was aghast. Well, impressed, actually. Who knew her mother had been such a rebel? Funny, but Charlotte had only ever seen her mother as old. Not as anyone with a life before she’d been presented with her baby.

  And yes, Eileen had always acted old too. Growing up, Charlotte had fantasised what it would be like to have one of those younger yummy mummies at the school gate, with their fashionable clothes and make-up, rather than her dowdy mum. Someone she could be proud of – no, not proud, that was harsh – but someone everyone was impressed by, rather than scared of, with her teacher stares and high expectations. Hard to be at a school where detention was dished out by your mother. Charlotte rejoiced for more than one reason the day she was picked to train at the Royal Ballet School and leave that humiliation behind her.

  Charlotte wondered what her birth mother would have been like at the school gate. A young girl of fifteen.

  Who was she? What was she doing now?

  Charlotte refocused. Maybe she should just be very grateful for what she had rather than giving any thought to someone who hadn’t wanted her.

  As it was, youth – or at least the memory of it a time long ago – lit up Eileen’s whole face. ‘I wasn’t a tearaway or anything
. I just so desperately wanted to see Paul McCartney up close. I had a real crush on him. He was… well, he was lovely. So talented.’

  Lissa was beaming, as if she’d just discovered the best-ever secret. ‘You dark horse, Eileen Evans. Who would have known? You bunked off school to go to a pop concert.’

  As always, poor Eileen was blushing and clearly regretting saying anything. ‘Yes. But. Well. Yes. I did. But only ever the once.’ She looked over at little Poppy, who was sitting on the dais playing with her Bob the Builder and Lofty digger set. ‘It’s not something I was proud of. It’s not something anyone should do. Ever. It seems so silly now.’

  Niamh grinned. ‘She’s only three, Mrs Evans. I don’t think she understands what bunking off means. Yet.’

  ‘And how did you meet John, then?’ Sonja was on the edge of the pale-pink studded sofa. Glass empty. Smile large.

  ‘I was waiting for my friend Margaret, but she was running late. I didn’t know what to do – there were no mobile phones in those days and, to be honest, I was feeling a bit lost. We didn’t have tickets, you see. We were just hoping to get a good look at them all. A couple of men came over and started saying things to me… crude things, you know. Making me blush. Then another young man walked right up to me to check I was okay. Told the other two to bugger off and leave me alone. When they’d gone he said I looked a bit out of place and I felt it too – everyone was dressed in mini skirts, but they weren’t really my thing. He was in a suit that would have nicely fitted a bigger man, and his hair needed a good cut. He looked a bit out of place as well, but he seemed kind and had a nice smile, and he got rid of those other two who were harassing me. And when I looked into his eyes I forgot all about Paul McCartney.’

  ‘That. That right there, that’s what I want.’ Shelley was pointing at Eileen. ‘That absolute conviction. Undying love. I want me some of that.’

  Eileen smiled softly. ‘You’ll get there, Shelley. And when you do, you’ll know. It’s… well, this might sound silly, but I felt like it was fate.’

  ‘I knew when I met Jaz.’ Sonja nodded, looking serious for the first time that day. ‘Pretty much straight away. I think you’re right, Mrs Evans; it did feel a bit like fate. Give it time, Shelley, you’ll meet Mr Right. And you too, Lissa.’

  ‘Not a bloody chance, thank you. I’m perfectly fine on my own and happy to stay that way.’ Charlotte’s chief bridesmaid hauled her dress up to her knees and levered off the chair. ‘Right, I’m getting out of here. All this talk about everlasting love is making me feel nauseous. And yet I’m starving at the same time. Weird. I think I see a Mammoth burger in my future.’

  ‘Same old, same old, then. You’re going to look like a Mammoth burger one of these days – no, never. No. Okay. Party’s over. Such a shame, we all look brilliant. It’s going to be a fabulous day.’ Charlotte looked at her friends and soon-to-be family all around her. They were here for her, to make her day special. And it was lovely. Only, she still wasn’t quite feeling it despite how much she was trying. It felt as if someone had stolen her ability to be happy.

  She didn’t know what kind of a future she was headed towards. Funny how one random thing could derail so much. She ran a surreptitious palm across the beaded bodice of her dress. Wondered how she’d look with a scar. Or no boobs at all. Whether Ben would still love her like he said he would.

  Two more days, then she’d know her fate.

  Chapter Five

  ‘It’s not cancer.’

  Dr Carter might have said something more. Yes. In fact his lips were still moving, but Charlotte had trouble focusing on the sounds.

  It’s not cancer. It’s not cancer.

  Wow.

  She was aware of Ben squeezing her hand. Of feeling her blood rushing through her ears. Of breathing out. And again. Of feeling a bit dizzy. Of wanting to hug the grumpy old bastard of a doctor. Well, maybe not that.

  But relief had never felt so good.

  Dr Carter peered over silver, half-rimmed glasses and then looked down at his notes. ‘Yes. The FNA shows a C2 result, which means benign cells. Which means there’s no cancer. There’s nothing to worry about. It was just a large cyst. These things are very common. It’s the best outcome we could have hoped for.’

  ‘Whoa.’ Charlotte sat back in the plush leather chair, flanked by both her boyfriend and her mother – there really was safety in numbers, after all – and felt her limbs go weak. ‘I’m not… I’m not…’ Going to die. ‘That’s great news.’

  ‘Thank God,’ her mother said almost inaudibly and Charlotte felt her slump back in her seat. Ben, however, stayed completely still. Processing.

  For the first time since they’d met him the doctor smiled and suddenly seemed almost human. ‘Yes. Of course. I understand how frightening it is. I do. I know it’s distressing to have the procedure and the wait, but we have to be sure. We have to run the tests and get the results. It’s all routine.’

  ‘Yes.’

  The doctor closed Charlotte’s paper file in front of him, indicating the consultation was over. ‘So we’ll review you in six months, just to check everything’s okay. Make an appointment at Reception on the way out.’

  But Charlotte wasn’t sure her legs would hold her if she stood, so she sat a little longer, gathering her strength. ‘Six months? Is that normal?’

  ‘Yes. Absolutely. Routine. It’s what we do here at the West London Breast Clinic; just a quick check-up to sign you off. Surveillance.’ He glanced down at her notes. ‘No reason to worry. You’ve no family history of breast cancer, you have no other real risk factors. Actually…’ He peered more closely at the notes. ‘Ah. You’re adopted. So you don’t really know. Is that correct?’

  No, I don’t! How many times would she have this conversation? How many times would she not be able to give an answer? ‘No. Um. I mean, yes. No, I don’t know.’

  ‘Not to worry.’ He dipped his head, mumbling, ‘See you in six months.’

  Not to worry? Every medical person she spoke to seemed to think family history was a big deal.

  It’s not cancer.

  That was all she needed to know, right? She could move on with her life, look forward to the wedding. Plan the wedding. Focus on the wedding. Focus on a future, instead of feeling like she was staring at an abyss of uncertainty.

  Ben squeezed her hand and went to stand. ‘Come on, Charlie. Let’s go celebrate. Thanks, Dr Carter.’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ came her mum’s voice. Next to her, both sides, she was aware of her support team standing and moving.

  She didn’t have cancer.

  She closed her eyes. Breathed in and out.

  ‘Charlie, come on.’ Ben tugged on her hand. ‘He’s got more people to see.’

  She opened her eyes and felt as if she was looking at everything for the first time. Clichéd as it was, everything seemed brighter – the colours more vibrant. Sounds louder, crisper. Ben’s hand in hers, safer. The smile in her chest, blooming bigger and bigger. Beautiful relief.

  The consultant was writing in the paper notes. No computer for him. Just old-school pen and ink. He nodded. ‘See you in six months. Good day.’

  ‘Thanks. It is. A very good day.’ Charlotte stood up. Turned to leave.

  She looked at Ben’s back, all straight and proud and relieved. At her mother’s eyes, shimmering with happy tears. Charlotte felt it through to her bones. Relief. Pure and simple, like breathing in clean air. Like starting over, being given a free pass. A new slate.

  Next to her she felt her mum’s breathing relax. Things were back to normal.

  Right?

  But…

  There was that family-history thing tap tap tapping in her head. Because breast cancer, heart disease, stroke… people kept asking her if she had a family history. She didn’t.

  And they both knew theirs. Ben and Eileen with their generations of knowledge. The connections. The risks and the quirks. Ben’s dad had the same-shaped birthmark in exactly the same place on his
shin as Ben.

  Eileen’s mum had had a problem with her tummy. My funny tummy she’d called it. Eileen got it too when she was nervous.

  The freckles that joined the Murphys into one big clan. Their susceptibility to sunburn. The sticky-out tooth on the right side. The cowlicks on both his sisters’ partings.

  Family history.

  She stopped. Turned round to the doctor again. Wondered if this was appropriate. Or not. Or whether it mattered. Whether any of it mattered and she was just making a mountain out of a nonexistent lump.

  Yes, she probably was. Everyone had said it didn’t matter – but only after they’d asked her the question. So, if it didn’t matter, why ask the question at all?

  And then there was Eileen to think about. She wouldn’t want all this dragged up in front of the doctor, in front of Ben. She wouldn’t want it dragged up at all. Because they all pretended the adoption issue wasn’t important and didn’t matter, but Charlotte knew it was and that it did.

  Before she could stop herself the words came out. ‘Er… I know this probably isn’t your field, Dr Carter, but should I find out about my family history? I mean, is there any kind of test that could give me the answers to all these questions? You know, find any genetic issues… that kind of thing?’

  The doctor leaned back in his chair. ‘There are lots of tests, for lots of things. Is there anything in particular you’re worried about?’

  ‘Well, obviously, breast cancer, seeing as I’m here and with the lump and everything. But sometimes I read about a disease and wonder if it’s lurking in my background, waiting to attack.’

  She could feel both her mother and Ben staring at her. She didn’t want to look at them. Because she’d promised she wouldn’t do this. And yet here she was, doing it. With no explanation, only a gut feeling that this was what she should do.

  Actually, she should have been floating out of the room on happy air and resolving to plan her wedding with renewed enthusiasm, because she was going to marry Ben and he wasn’t going to have to look after an invalid. She was well! She was fine! She had two boobs and was going to keep them both.