Molly and Cam looked at each other and hesitated. Molly had already swerved the very same question that morning when she dropped off George at Dixie’s so she told Bree the same thing she’d told Cam’s grandmother. ‘Just a couple of meetings,’ she replied, holding out the van keys to Cam. ‘Come on, otherwise we’ll be late.’
As they set off towards the track that took them over the bridge into Glensheil, they drove in silence. Though there was still snow almost everywhere, Drew and the boys had done a brilliant job of clearing the road, and the bridge was now open, thanks to the wind dropping. As soon as they hit the main high street in town, Molly noticed the colourful Christmas lights draped from one lamppost to the next, and standing next to the clock tower a huge Christmas tree that looked magnificent. Christmas was one of Molly’s favourite times of the year. Inspired by Jamie Oliver, Cam had taken over the cooking for the past few years, dishing up the most succulent, mouth-watering turkey with homemade cranberry stuffing and all the trimmings, and George had an annual tradition of polishing off most of his chocolate for breakfast. This Christmas would be even more special with another baby added to the mix, and it couldn’t come soon enough for Molly.
The drive to the hospital was quite straightforward despite the terrible weather of the last week and with no delays they sailed through the rush-hour traffic and arrived at the hospital twenty-five minutes later. Taking a ticket from the machine at the side of the barrier, Cam pulled the van into a vacant space in the parking garage and breathed deeply.
Molly placed a supportive hand on his knee and gave it a little squeeze. ‘It’s going to be okay. Whatever the scan reveals, we are in this together,’ she reassured him. Cam looked at her and nodded.
They located the unit from the specifics in the letter and hand in hand headed off in the right direction, following the arrows on the signs down the long white corridors. Cam checked in at the desk and after the receptionist confirmed his personal details, a nurse took him through to a separate room. Managing a wobbly smile of encouragement before he disappeared, Molly sat patiently in the waiting room. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going through Cam’s head and she was trying to think of everything and anything that was positive – filling her head with George’s face, his smile and his voice – to keep herself distracted.
Meanwhile, the nurse handed Cam a gown and asked him to undress from his waist down. She pulled the curtain around on the rail, turning the corner of the room into a cubicle, and asked him to let her know when he was ready.
Cam was nervous and his hands slightly shaking as he untied his shoelaces, slipped off his shoes and removed his jeans and pants, which he folded up neatly and placed on the trolley beside him. Taking another deep breath, he managed to call out, ‘I’m ready.’
The nurse pulled back the curtain and took him through to another room where he was met by a technician who was colour co-ordinated with the clinical white room right down to her clogs. She gave Cam a reassuring smile and asked him to take a seat while she explained that she was going to undertake a scrotal ultrasound scan. She reassured him that it was a painless procedure that used high-frequency sound waves to produce an image of the inside of his testicle, which would be the main way of finding out if the lump was harmless or not.
She asked Cam if he had any questions but he just shook his head. He wanted this over and done with as soon as possible.
Trying to think about anything other than what was going on in this room, he thought about Molly and his mood swings in the last few weeks. He was angry with himself for keeping the news of the scan from her for so long and he was glad she was waiting for him in the other room because he couldn’t imagine getting through today on his own.
Before long Cam was back behind the curtain and reunited with his jeans and pants, thankful that the procedure was over with.
Molly was still sitting on her chair as Cam slid into the vacant one next to her.
‘Everything okay?’ she asked, placing her hand on his knee.
‘Yes. She said I just have to wait until the consultant looks over the scan.’
The next hour was excruciating as Molly and Cam sat in silence until his name was finally called. They followed the nurse into another room and sat down on the plastic chairs in front of the desk. Cam was fiddling with his watch strap, trying to keep his emotions in check – trying to stay as strong as possible – but he wasn’t finding it easy. His palms were sweating, his head was throbbing.
The door slowly opened and the consultant sat down at the desk. He checked over Cam’s details before taking one last look through the results of the scan. Cam had no idea what the diagnosis was going to be.
‘You did exactly the right thing by checking yourself,’ said the consultant. ‘I can’t urge you enough to keep doing that.’
Cam swallowed. His heart was pounding as he waited to hear the next words.
‘The scan shows that there is nothing sinister going on at all. It’s just a build-up of fluid, which I will be able to drain for you if it is causing you distress.’
Cam closed his eyes and breathed out as relief flooded through his veins. ‘So you’re saying I’m okay? I’m not going to die?’
The consultant smiled. ‘I can confirm you are not going to die from this.’
Cam flung his arms around Molly, who had happy tears leaking from her eyes.
‘Thank you,’ said Cam, looking back at the consultant, who nodded.
‘Let me talk you through the procedure for draining the cyst,’ continued the consultant.
Thirty minutes later they’d left the hospital. The return journey was upbeat. Cam and Molly were smiling, relief written all over their faces as they sang along to the radio whilst driving towards Molly’s old house.
‘It’s a right rollercoaster of a day, isn’t it? The unknown, the known, and now we are back to the unknown. How are you feeling about this suitcase?’ asked Cam, glancing at Molly as he indicated right and turned into her old road.
‘I’m not sure why I didn’t open it up at the time. I suppose everything was just too difficult to deal with when the grief was so new. It might throw up absolutely nothing and if so, I keep thinking: do I tell Bree about my mad thoughts?’
‘Possibly mad, possibly not. A DNA test would sort out that niggle.’
‘Bree is only a child and I’ve no idea how she would react to my musings. But if I had some concrete evidence, it would be a lot easier. And then say we were sisters – half-sisters? – could we really let her go back to living in a shelter?’ Molly was thinking aloud. ‘I’ve no clue who my own father is and where is hers? The more I think about it, the more confusing and impossible it all seems.’
‘What about your birth certificate? You must have needed that at some point.’
