Occasionally when Bex watched Matt and Tristan together, or her three boys, in the moments when they were getting along likethe best of friends, she’d feel a twist of something in her gut that could still make her catch her breath after all these years. It should have been how she and Briony were. They should have been starting up the campsite together, running the little shop, just as they’d always dreamed of. Maybe that dream would have died for Briony years before, and she’d have pursued her shot at fame instead, but as it was, Bex had no idea whether she’d even tried. She shook the thought off again, as she had so often lately. Most of the time she managed not to think about Briony too often, but there was something about finally opening the campsite and shop that had brought her estranged sister back to the fore; it must have been all those old dreams from the past finally coming to fruition. There was no other explanation for it.
Either way, it wouldn’t be her sister helping her run the shop and campsite. It would be her mum, who at the age of sixty-five still seemed to have more energy than most thirty-year-olds, despite the diagnosis of rheumatoid arthritis she’d received in her early forties. At least she had until very recently. Just the last week or so, as they put the finishing touches to the campsite and prepared for its launch, Donna had seemed to flag a bit. Maybe it was the pressure of wanting to get things right, which Bex was certainly feeling. Their first guests would be a group of campers who had been invited to stay for free, in the weeks running up to the official opening, in exchange for reviews and guidance with any potential snagging issues. Bex was apprehensive about the potential length of that snagging list and what the reviews might look like. She was so proud of what they’d done. The shower block and other facilities they’d created were as good as at any of the other campsites she’d visited in and around Cornwall, during her research phase. The views from the site itself were breathtaking in all directions and there was even a small play park for children, with wooden play equipment, and a pathway throughthe woodland for dog walkers. Just beyond the edge of the farm, guests could pick up the coastal path that took them to Port Agnes in one direction and Port Kara in the other. It was pretty damn perfect as far as Bex was concerned and it was her fourth baby. But just like her other children, she couldn’t bear the thought of anyone criticising it. Right now though, she had other concerns.
‘Mum, why don’t you go home? You look worn out.’ Bex looked over to where her mother was stocking a newly installed second rack with leaflets. There was now information for guests on every possible point of interest in the area, from family theme parks, to stately homes, and farm shops where they could buy milkshakes straight from the dairy farm where the cows were living. Bex had been busy making some updates to the website, but when she’d glanced up, she’d spotted the pained expression on her mum’s face, as Donna slotted the leaflets into the rack.
‘I’m fine, my love, honestly.’ It was her mum’s lifelong mantra. Something she’d always claimed whenever her daughters had asked after her, even when it had been patently obvious that wasn’t the case. Back in the old days, when she’d been working three jobs, it had often been clear just how tired Donna was, but she’d never admit it, and Bex knew now that it was because she hadn’t wanted to worry her daughters. Her mother didn’t need to work multiple jobs any more; in fact she didn’t need to work at all. Yet somehow, in her mid-sixties, she currently had two jobs again.
‘You’ve been at the museum all day and you should go and put your feet up. I told you I could manage up here. There’s only a handful of things to do before tomorrow and none of them are exactly essential to us being able to open.’
‘I don’t want you to have to do this all by yourself.’ Her mother’s tone brooked no argument. Donna rarely insisted onanything when a compromise could be reached, but it was clear she didn’t want to back down on this.
‘At least have something to eat then, you’ve barely touched the food that Matt dropped off.’ He’d arrived up at the campsite shop with fish and chips for both of them, before heading back to the farmhouse to eat the same thing with the boys. The cod from Penrose Plaice in Port Agnes was legendary and it had always been her mother’s favourite treat. So it had been strange to witness her complete disinterest, especially when Bex’s stomach had begun rumbling at the mere smell of it. There was a small storage area and kitchen off the campsite office, stocked with cups, glasses, plates and cutlery. So there was no reason why Bex and her mum couldn’t enjoy their impromptu dinner in a perfectly civilised way, but all Donna had said was that she wasn’t really hungry and she repeated more or less the same thing now.
‘I just don’t seem to have much appetite.’
Looking at her again, Bex suddenly realised how gaunt her mother’s face appeared. ‘Just today or generally?’
‘I suppose it’s been going on for a while.’ Donna wrinkled her nose. ‘The upside is that I’ve lost almost a stone, but that just seems to have made my stomach protrude even more in contrast to the rest of me shrinking a bit. I blame having two kids!’
Donna was laughing, but Bex couldn’t bring herself to join in and it had nothing to do with the fact that her mum was pretending to blame her for no longer having a flat stomach. A horrible feeling of unease was creeping over Bex, leaving goosepimples all over her skin in its wake, but her mother hadn’t finished yet.
‘In fact, if I didn’t know better, I might even think I was expecting again. I feel nauseous a lot of the time like I did with you and Briony. Although it wasn’t just morning sickness for me, oh no, I had to have it all day.’ Donna laughed again. ‘What withthat and looking about six months gone, I could almost be pregnant.’
‘I think you should go to the doctor.’ Bex’s scalp was pricking now and suddenly she wasn’t so sure that the slightly tanned appearance her mum seemed to be sporting was down to her having caught the best of the early spring sunshine on her dog walks.
Almost robotically, Bex got up from the desk and walked towards her mother, looking at her very closely for the first time in days. They’d been so busy getting ready for the opening of the campsite and Bex had been so engrossed in what they had to do that she hadn’t stopped to really look at her mother, not like she was doing now. She didn’t know what she was looking for until she saw it, but when she did, she couldn’t speak for a moment. She didn’t want to say the words out loud, because then they’d be true, but she had to.
‘Mum, I think there might be something wrong. Your eyes… they look a bit yellow.’
‘Don’t be silly! It’s just the lighting in here, that’s all.’ But even as her mother spoke, Bex knew it was a lie and she realised her mum knew it too. Donna just didn’t want to face it, and she wasn’t the only one. No matter how awful the prospect of discovering that something was wrong might be, they couldn’t afford to ignore this. Whatever it was would be fixable if they tackled it head-on, it had to be. The alternative was something Bex wasn’t even willing to consider.
‘It’s not the lighting, Mum. There’s a yellow tinge to the whites of your eyes and your skin. You’re not eating and your stomach’s distended.’ Bex snatched her keys from the top of the desk. ‘I’m taking you to St Piran’s.’
‘Don’t be daft.’ Donna shook her head. ‘It’s nothing, but ifyou’re really that worried, I promise I’ll pop along to the doctor’s surgery tomorrow just to put your mind at rest.’
‘No. We’re going to the hospital.Right now.’ Bex held her mother’s gaze for what felt like an eternity. Donna wasn’t the only one who could dig her heels in when it really mattered. Eventually her mother nodded, her eyes looking glassy now. She was obviously terrified about what they might be about to discover, and Bex recognised it as just one more thing she shared with the woman who meant the world to her. The thought of something happening to her mother was so unbearable it felt as though she’d forgotten how to breathe. Donna had been her rock and the one person she’d been able to rely upon for her entire life. Bex would do whatever it took to make sure her mum got the help she needed, even face the fear of being told that something was seriously wrong. She could do it and be the strong one, that was what she was telling herself, even as her legs began to shake. Grasping her mother’s hand, Bex pulled Donna in the direction of the door, her heart racing as though she was already at the end of a gruelling marathon, but she had a terrible feeling that what lay ahead was about to become the stuff of nightmares.
3
Bex had hoped that the medics in A&E would put her mother’s symptoms down to something as simple as a virus or minor infection, but the look on the face of Dr Eve Bellingham, who’d taken charge of her mother’s initial assessment, had done nothing to reassure her.
‘I’m going to run some blood tests for you, Donna, and arrange a scan.’ Eve had a gentle tone, but suddenly she’d taken a deep breath, frowning slightly as she leant closer to her patient. ‘I need to ask you some questions about your lifestyle, so just let me know if you’d like to do that in private.’
‘Oh no. There’s nothing I wouldn’t talk about in front of my daughter.’ Bex’s mother had given a wave of her hand and then paused for a moment, before dropping a perfect wink. ‘Well, almost nothing. If you know what I mean.’
‘Mum!’ Bex had shaken her head, as they all laughed. It had been a wonderful moment of light relief, but it hadn’t lasted long.
‘Okay I promise not to ask you aboutthat.’ Eve had raised her eyebrows slightly. ‘But I do want to ask how regularly you drink alcohol.’
‘Friday nights, Ken and I always share a bottle of wine. Then on a Sunday, when we go for a roast at the pub and stay on for the quiz afterwards, I’ll have a couple of gin and slim lines.’
‘Okay, so maybe six or seven units a week?’ Eve had narrowed her eyes and put her head on one side as she waited for Donna to respond.
‘Yes, very occasionally more, if we’re invited to a party or a wedding, or meet friends for dinner, but I would be very surprised if it’s ever more than ten drinks over the course of a week, even if we’re away on holiday. Why’s that?’ Donna had looked more confused than worried, but Bex had known without having to be hooked up to a monitor that her own blood pressure was much higher than it should have been as she waited for Eve to explain.
‘Your symptoms point to an issue with your liver and that’s often linked to excessive consumption of alcohol, but it doesn’t sound like that’s the case for you.’ Eve’s tone had remained calm and even, but the creeping sensation of dread that Bex had been experiencing had deepened further. ‘If it is your liver, it could be linked to a condition that can be related to your diet and the way your body processes certain foods, called non-alcoholic fatty liver disease.’
‘Well, that’s not a very glamorous-sounding name, is it?’ Donna had attempted to laugh again, but there’d been a definite shift in her demeanour. ‘If it is that, how is it treated?’
