Every nerve in Mae’s body went cold.
‘Say what?’ she managed.
He looked at her then, properly. She saw things she usually skimmed over: the grey in his hair that hadn’t been there a few years ago, the way his skin seemed thinner, the dark smudges under his eyes that she’d always put down to early starts.
‘Do you remember,’ he said slowly, ‘a couple of years back, when I kept going to the doctor about my stomach?’
No. No, no, no…
‘Well. Turned out it wasn’t just indigestion. They found… something they didn’t like. Sent me for tests. Then more tests.’
‘And?’ she whispered.
His fingers tightened on the edge of the table.
‘It’s cancer, love,’ he said.
Everything inside her seemed to drop. The kitchen went distant, as if she were suddenly looking at it from the far end of a tunnel.
‘No,’ she said. It came out childlike. ‘No, it’s not.’
‘I’m afraid it is.’
‘You would’ve told me,’ she insisted. ‘You would’ve… I would’ve…’ She broke off, realising even as she said it that it wasn’t true. He could have hidden it. He had hidden it.
‘All those times you went to “see the supplier”,’ she said. ‘Those mornings you left me to run the place…’
He closed his eyes briefly. ‘Hospital.’
A tear slipped, hot and sudden, down her cheek. ‘But you were fine.’
‘I thought I might be. With the treatments…’ His eyes were steady, even as his mouth trembled. ‘They did work, in a way. Bought me time. More than I expected, to be honest. I’ve had a few good years, but…’
‘How long?’ she asked.
He hesitated. Looked at the kettle, the fridge, anywhere but her.
‘They don’t like giving numbers,’ he said. ‘Could be a year. Could be two. I feel all right, considering. A bit more tired. Bit more…’ He gestured vaguely at his thin frame. ‘But I’m still here now.’
She couldn’t seem to breathe properly. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she burst out.
He flinched, guilt flickering across his face. ‘Because you were a kid,’ he said. ‘Because you’ve already lost one parent. Because I wanted you to enjoy your life without thinking about this. Enjoy all the things you have. Enjoy being with… Callie.’
Under any other circumstances, she might have leapt on that implication, demanded to know what he meant, what he’d noticed. Right now, it slid past.
‘I’m not a kid,’ she said, voice shaking. ‘I could’ve helped. Been there. Held your hand. Not just… sold loaves while you were hooked up to something.’
‘You did help,’ he said fiercely. ‘You kept this place going. You kept me going. You gave me normal. I wanted to do the same for you.’
Some wild, irrational part of Mae wanted to scream at him. For not telling her. For deciding on his own what she could cope with.
But of course, she wouldn’t. She had to swallow it. Just like he did.
‘So that’s it,’ she said eventually. ‘You’re… dying.’
He swallowed. ‘We’re all dying, love.’
‘Don’t,’ she snapped.
