Part One is here

 

Friday – Sam Part One

It made no sense. She was healthy. She exercised four times a week, she ate nothing with refined sugar in and she had one glass of wine with her Sunday lunch. So how had she got cancer? She squeezed her eyes shut and took deep breaths. She wrinkled her nose. The tube smelled pungent today, probably thanks to the large man in the too-small t-shirt beside her.

What was he doing out anyway? It was seven in the morning and there was no way he was going to work, so why was he even here? She sniffed, wrinkled and rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. It came away with a hint of foundation and she sighed again.

‘Cheer up, love, can’t all be bad.’

He was speaking to her, with one of those smiles that says ‘I’m talking to you but I’m thinking about your breasts.’ She tried to imagine him undressed, but all she could picture was bulging white skin covered in hairs and spots and she clamped her lips together and swallowed.

‘Really, I mean, think about it? What have you got to be grateful for?’

God, he was still trying. Actually, that was a good question. The doctor had told her to think about that when she had moments like this. She looked anew at the man in the t-shirt. Had he had cancer? Maybe he still had it. She opened her mouth and closed it again.

Stupid. Of course he didn’t, he just lucked on the question. It was still a good one though. What was she grateful for? She was grateful for mum and dad. She was grateful for having her job and how nice they’d been about it all. She was grateful she no longer noticed the absence on the other side of the bed.

Getting rid of the photos had helped. Having her there, staring at her every time she walked in the door was the height of stupidity, but she hadn’t been able to just cut her out of her life. Even if Tanya had tried her best to do exactly that.

But the space was just space now. It wasn’t a Tanya-shaped space, nor was it a lack on her part, some fictional issue she had that drove other women away. Now it was just space. So she was grateful for that.

She blinked. The big man was staring at her, nodding and smiling. ‘There’s something, isn’t there?’

She nodded and flushed, putting her hand to her throat. Maybe he had got it, or had it. Maybe it didn’t matter. The therapist said it might have come from her anger. She’d laughed at him, in his posh shirt and tight jeans. He looked like a therapist as much as she did, but he was deadly serious.

‘Our diseases come from somewhere, Samantha. Often we cause them ourselves. You carry a lot of anger, too much I fear. What are you so angry about?’

She hadn’t been able to tell him. It was only the second appointment and she was in pieces, waking up five times a night to prowl around the flat and read websites on the C word. Four months later, she still couldn’t tell him. How do you explain to someone that you’ve always been angry?

She didn’t know where it came from, or why it came, but the world was flawed and no one else seemed to realise. No one else saw the hurt and rudeness and destruction and crappiness that went on everyday, so no one else got angry about it.

The tube rolled into Embankment and she got off. She managed to flash the big man a grateful smile and he gave a little wave, the kind big men who should be smaller give. His face followed her all the way to the office. She should have said something. She should have said what she was grateful for, and that right then, she was grateful for him.

She stopped her lip from curling into a sneer as she crossed reception.

‘Good morning, Miss Frane.’

She raised a hand as she made for the lift. She had meetings today, but she was exhausted. She’d stopped sleeping again. The doctor said the chemo’ would do that, but for all his warnings, she wasn’t ready for it. It was like she ran a marathon in her sleep and when she woke up, she just wanted to go back to bed.

She could manage the first hour or so. Habit and the determination to not give in got her out of the house. Then it hit and she staggered to the tube. The rest on the way gave her enough energy to get into her office but now she could hardly stand. She checked her schedule. Meeting after meeting after meeting. The pad was wet and with a sniff of realisation, she grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes.

No point in feeling sorry for herself, no point at all. The chemo’ was over in a couple of weeks and then she had the op and then it was recovery and she could put all this behind her. Maybe her memories of Tanya would finally go with it.

She put her phone on the desk. Knowing it was stupid, she pressed the button and the screen lit up. Tanya smiled up at her and her mouth wobbled. With a growl she unlocked it, went into settings and changed her save screen to blank. With a sigh of satisfaction, she slammed the phone back on the desk and went for her mouse.

Elizabeth turned up ten minutes later and stuck her head through the door. ‘Morning, Miss Frane, can I get you anything?’

Sam stared at her, wondering whether everyone who had chemo’ got the blurring around the edges of their eyes, and shook her head. The door was almost closed when she called her back.

‘Sorry, Liz, actually, yeah. I need to cancel the morning meetings. Sorry, I’m just…’

Liz nodded, eyes sad. ‘Yes, of course, no problem. Can I get you a drink or anything.’

‘Is it too early for gin?’

‘Probably just a bit. You could have coffee and pretend there’s liqueur in there.’

‘Couldn’t you just put liqueur in there instead of me pretending?’

Lis smiled and pulled the door too. Sam stared at it, at the dark wooden paneling covered in shiny lacquer, and ever so slowly put her head on the desk. She sat up guiltily when the phone rang, sweeping imaginary sleep dust from the corners of her eyes. Had she been asleep?

Face flushing red, she answered the phone.

‘Samantha Frane.’

‘Hello Samantha, it’s Doctor Islam. I’m sorry to bother you at work. Do you have a minute to talk?’

‘Of course, why, what’s up?’

There was a moment’s silence and it was enough for her to know. She bit her lip and grabbed the table edge with one hand, squeezing until her fingers ached.

‘We have all the results back now and I thought you would want to know immediately. The tumour is larger than we thought. Also, the cancer has spread into your lymph nodes. If we operate now, I think we can get it all, but I must warn you, it is a long procedure and will leave you out of action for some considerable time.’

He kept talking, but she didn’t hear him. She didn’t hear anything save the rushing in her ears. Her hand shook where it gripped the table and she stared in wonder at the whiteness of her knuckles. She’d never been that pale, so where did the whiteness come from?

‘Samantha, are you there?’

His voice, always so damned soft, flooded back into her consciousness.

‘Yes, yeah, I’m here.’

‘Do you understand what I am saying?’

‘Yeah, when will you operate?’

‘I have booked it in for Tuesday. I will not be operating though, this isn’t my area of expertise so I will pass you to a colleague of mine. She is outstanding, you will be in good hands. I need you to come in and see me today or tomorrow, can you do that?’

She organised things, autopilot taking over while her mind drifted up to the ceiling and stared down at her. She saw the straight, mousey-blond hair brushing her shoulders. The thin, even face that would be pretty if it weren’t so severe. She watched her lips wobble as she answered the questions and put the phone down. Then she slammed back into her body and heaved a great groan that doubled her over until she dropped from her chair and onto the floor.

‘Miss Frane, are you alright?’

Liz’s tremulous voice cut through her sobs and she looked up. Liz had never seen her cry and she knew what she must look like, but her PA came rushing around the table and wrapped her arms around her. It was probably the worse thing she could have done. Sam stiffened, drawing her shoulders in, tears drying up.

‘I’m fine, really. Can you get me an appointment with Mr Edwards. Needs to be today.’

Liz backed away, hands out to her. ‘Are you su—’

‘NOW, please, sorry. Yes, now please, straight away if possible, thank you.’

Liz dashed out the office and Sam slumped back in her seat. She spun the chair so she could stare out the big window behind her. She could see the river and thousands of people, going about their lives like she wasn’t this close to death.

She stood and sucked in a deep breath. She couldn’t be in here. She couldn’t talk to her boss and try and explain why her job didn’t matter anymore, why nothing mattered. She grabbed her jacket and ran. Liz called after her and it was probably something caring, something that she needed to hear, but she couldn’t hear it, not now.

Minutes later she burst out onto the street and sucked in a huge lungful of filthy London air. She could breathe again, as ludicrous as it sounded. Out here she was one among millions and not one of them knew her, or what was happening to her. She didn’t know why that was so important, but it was. She stamped past the yard and glanced at the van parked inside. It had been there when she left yesterday and it was still there. There was something creepy about it, with all the blacked out windows and nasty bumper stickers.

Sam set off for the river. It would be clearer there and she could pretend she was on holiday, cruising by the Thames. She used to come here with Tanya all the time. They’d hang out on the South Bank, or laze on the steps of St Paul’s. She sniffed and rubbed her eye with the heel of her hand, then looked in horror at the mascara smeared across it.

She reached Embankment and headed straight for the railings. As she leaned against them, the phone rang. She stiffened, like the railings had electricity running through them. She struggled to breathe as she pulled her phone from her jacket pocket. She was too hot and she yanked the jacket off as well, not yet daring to look at the phone screen. She didn’t need to.

She knew it was Tanya.

 

Next Installment Thursday 10th July