I sense something is wrong. ‘Are you okay?’ My heart is thumping against my ribcage.
‘I have breast cancer, Nelly.’
My chest tightens. I struggle to breathe. ‘Cancer?’ I croak.
‘Yes.’
My body starts to tremble. ‘You haven’t told me about this.’
‘I didn’t want to worry you.’
‘Okay – is it treatable?’ My legs feel weak. I sit on one of the plastic chairs in the children’s section.
Aunt Polly continues. ‘Nelly, the doctor tells me I have a good chance of beating it as it hasn’t spread to my lymph nodes. I need to have a course of chemo and possibly a mastectomy.’
Hot, stinging tears rush to my eyes. ‘We’ll get you through this. I’m coming over. I’ll get on a train now.’
‘Not now. Come on your day off on Sunday.’
‘I’ll be there.’ My voice is wavering. Hilary’s face flashes up inside my mind, which is followed by a sad ache in my chest. My aunt and Hilary were best friends. They were so close that my aunt often referred to Hilary as her ‘fourth emergency service’. Ten years ago, they fell out and have not spoken since. My aunt refuses to tell me why she won’t talk about Hilary. She says some things are better left alone. It’s moments like these that I wish Hilary was still in our lives.
‘Let’s talk when you’re here, Nelly. There’s something I want to ask you.’
‘What is it?’
‘I’ll tell you when I see you.’
A cloud of gloom passes over me. What does she want to tell me? ‘I can’t wait, Aunt Polly, tell me now.’
She lets out a sigh. ‘Nelly, I wanted to ask whether you would come with me to have my chemo. They want to start it on Wednesday, and I know that’s your day off from the bookshop. I was worried it would be a lot of?—’
I interrupt her. ‘You don’t have to ask. I’ll be there.’
Aunt Polly gave up her time, energy, sleep, and possibly her sanity for me. The least I can do is be there for her when she’s unwell and needs to have treatment.
‘The course is weekly. It would be every Wednesday. But… what about the cost of the train fares?’
‘I’ll sort it, Aunt Polly,’ I croak. ‘You don’t have to worry; I’ll be by your side.’
My aunt’s sobs come in bursts. Hearing her cry and knowing I am not there to comfort her makes my heart break. ‘I’m sorry, Nelly.’ She sniffs. ‘I’m just scared.’
‘It’s okay to be scared,’ I say as tears roll down my cheeks. ‘We’re going to get through this together. I am going to be holding your hand, bringing you book gifts, and I might even treat you to one of our new bookmarks.’
‘Oh, Nelly, you don’t have to go to any trouble, but I wouldn’t say no to one of those.’ She blows her nose, which makes me hold the receiver away and smile. My aunt has always favoured an extra-loud nose blow. ‘Let’s talk on Sunday,’ she says, her voice sounding a little stronger. ‘Would you like to join me at the café when you arrive? My treat.’
‘Only if we can eat far too much cake.’
I can hear a weak laugh. ‘See you on Sunday.’ She hangs up, and I wipe my watery eyes.
Gary’s envelope is waiting for me when I get home. It sits where I left it on the hall table, leaning against Mum’s vase. I should have shoved it in a drawer or, even better, set it on fire. Snatching the envelope, I tear it into pieces. After tossing the remains in the bin and apologising to Mum’s vase for leaning Gary’s letter against it, I wander into my bedroom. A note on my bed greets me. It reads,Fixed it. Gary claims he has repaired the hole in the ceiling. This is surprising. I glance up at the ceiling and groan. The stain has been covered with sheets of white paper stapled in place. He hasn’t solved the problem at all.
Aunt Polly’s news weighs heavily on my shoulders. I sit on the bed and let my tears fall into my lap. She means the world to me. Over the years, when my curse has shown me nothing but heartbreak and darkened my world, my aunt has answered it with cake at her favourite café, long talks about books, and slow walks along the beach. These small, steady things have given me the light to find my way again.
Sensing that I need some emotional support, Lenny weaves his body through my legs while emitting a loud purr.
‘Where would I be without you, Lenny?’ I whisper, giving his chin a good stroke. ‘You are Mummy’s best boy.’
We sit in our favourite spot in the living room. I’ve placed my chair by the small sash window, creating an ideal spot for unwinding after a bad day and perfect for people-watching. Beside my chair is a stack of my favourite go-to reads for when my days feel heavy and I turn to reading about other lonely but resilient souls. On top isJane Eyre, and beneath it isAnne of Green Gables.
