Page 67 of You Were Always the One

Over the next week, while the kids go to school, I continue to work a few hours. The routines of our days go on. But none of it masks that, underneath, Miles and I are estranged in every sense of the word. Under almost unbearable strain; awaiting the results of his surgery, while in all this, neither of us mentions Patricia.

Attempting to keep some sense of normality in my life, I go to see Charley.

‘I wasn’t expecting to see you today,’ she says. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be taking some time off to look after your husband?’

‘Well, firstly, he doesn’t want me to. And secondly, it’s easier not to,’ I tell her. ‘Life has to go on – and if I don’t go to work, I’m stuck in the house with him and I’m not sure either of us can bear that.’ I look at her. ‘How are you this morning?’

‘OK,’ she says. ‘Other than it feels like I’m treading water. I have a scan next week. Meanwhile, my brain is in catastrophising mode.’ She shrugs. ‘I’m sure you can imagine.’

‘I can,’ I say. ‘Apart from that, how have you been feeling? Any pain?’

‘None,’ she says. ‘I actually feel OK. I’m just terrified.’

As she puts the kettle on, I watch her closely for unsteadiness, for signs of increasing frailty. There’s no obvious deterioration in her physically. But we both know only the scan will give the full picture. ‘How is Tallie?’

‘She’s great,’ Charley says. ‘She’s been through such a tough time. Poor kid.’ She turns to look at me. ‘How are yours bearing up?’

Since Miles’s diagnosis, there’s a new layer of understanding between us. ‘They’re doing OK, as far as I can tell. But their relationship with their father makes it so much more complicated.’ I look at her. ‘Of course, they care about him. But there’s no closeness between them.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘Well, you never know,’ she says. ‘If he comes through this, he may change. I mean, there’s nothing like a confrontation with your own mortality to remind you about what’s important in life.’ She gets out a box of teabags and reads the label. ‘This one is really gross. How about I make us fresh mint tea?’

She pops outside, leaving the door open so that the coolness of the air filters in, coming back a minute later with a handful of fragrant mint she’s just picked. Making the tea, she brings it over.

For someone with a terminal diagnosis, Charley is remarkable. She’s had everything in her power thrown at her cancer. Surgery, chemo, and every alternative treatment that she’s educated herself about, in the hope that one of them will help. Now and then, a miracle happens. And after all, in her situation, as she said to me: she has nothing to lose.

‘I’ll just be glad when it’s out of the way,’ she says. ‘I’d rather know what’s going on. Truly, waiting to see a consultant is the most nerve-wracking thing ever. It feels like they hold your life in their hands.’

It’s how Miles must have felt. ‘It must seem surreal,’ I say. ‘Miles doesn’t talk to me about it. He keeps everything inside.’

‘And gets angry?’

‘Exactly.’ But I understand that, too; that even our most misplaced emotions have to find an outlet. Especially at a time like this.

‘A word of advice,’ she says unexpectedly. ‘This is tough on you, too – don’t forget that. Make sure you take some time for yourself.’

After leaving Charley’s, I don’t go home. With Miles there, it isn’t the sanctuary it used to be; isn’t a place where I feel peace. But peace doesn’t exist between us; what love there was has slowly ebbed out of our lives.

I drive up a lane onto the South Downs until I find a place to park. Then getting out, I start walking. It’s years since I’ve been up here. The hills are gently undulating, folding into each other, the trees ablaze with vivid autumn shades. Breathing in the clean air, I think about the conversation I had with Riggs.

He reacts, I’m realising. To everyone he cares about. It’s why he let Emma move back in. Why he changed his mind about France, then changed it back. It’s even why he let me go, all those years ago. He doesn’t value what he wants. Or maybe he doesn’t know what he wants. Maybe, also, there are reasons. He’s always been conflict averse.

Then I think of Miles, at home, most likely terrified about what tomorrow will bring. Guilt washes over me that I’m not there with him. But even if I was, he wouldn’t talk to me. A sigh comes from me. In another life… But this isn’t another life. This is this one.

I get home just as my kids arrive back.

‘Tea?’ I ask them.

‘More like pizza,’ Grace says. ‘I’m starving.’

‘I’ve been shopping,’ I tell her, hoisting a bag onto the table. ‘I thought we could do with some treats.’

Grace gleefully delves in and fishes out packets of biscuits and chocolate, while Max looks at me oddly. ‘You’re always going on about healthy eating.’

‘It’s about balance,’ I say breezily, needing it as much as they do. ‘Nothing wrong with this, as long as it’s only now and then. Help yourselves. I’m taking your father a cup of tea.’

The following morning, as I drive to Dora’s, I have a feeling that’s more of a premonition. She’s been on my mind; I’ve learned to recognise the signs when someone doesn’t have long.

Sure enough, when I get there, it’s like her house is holding its breath. In Dora’s room, Natalie is sitting at her bedside, her face etched with what I’ve come to recognise as premature grief.