
# Book Title

### (alt)

### By

## H.A Dawson

##### ©2015, 2018 H.A Dawson

##### (Honor Amelia Dawson)

##### Wild Mushrooms - Publishing Associates

##### ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

##### New edition Published 2018

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#### Drowning in her woes over recent family tragedies, Leanne has reached the end of her tether. It's the personal revelations that force her to take stock and pluck up the courage to visit a home she has never known. She seeks answers to her quandary. Why can one lie be destructive but essential? This is one big lie that haunted her grandmother's soul! How bad can it be?

####  Life often plays us like fools then we realise we have no significance.

* * *

##### This is a work of fiction. Any characters, names, organisations, places, events or situations are either imaginary or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

##### This book contains material protected under International and U.K Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorised reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author and publisher.

##### This book is written in U.K English and has been edited/proofread to comply with UK grammar and language conventions. The structure differs in subtle ways to other versions of English. Some spelling and grammar variances will be apparent in the text and are normal.

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### _Books by H A Dawson_

_British crime thrillers and psychological suspense with a sharp edge_

_Morrison & Adams - Novels_

  * Girl On A Train (Walking The Pendulum)

  * Beds Of Rusty Nails

  * Crossing Forbidden Margins

  * Stumbling In A Smoky Haze

  * Withering Truth
  * When Echoes Clash

  * Caught In The Millstone

_Morrison & Adams - Novellas_

  * Twist Of A Steel Bracelet

  * Snapping Locks

  * Parallel Collision
  * Wanton Choice
  * Repeat Prescription
  * Blind Conscience

_Circles of Subterfuge_

  * Never To Be Ignored

  * Stolen By Jackdaws

  * Struck With Venom
  * Trampling Broken Sticks

_Mystery Novels_

  * Drowned By Distant Murmurs

  * Hunting Reckless Shadows
  * Cruel Persuasion
  * Floating Away

_Singles - Themed Novellas_

  * Lapse Of Sanity
  * Behind Old Mirrors

_Short Novellas_

  * Sweeping Away Tomorrow

_  
_

### _Book Collections_

_Circles of Subterfuge_

  1. Books 1 & 2
  2. Books 3 & 4

_Morrison Adams  _Cold Cases

  1. Books 1 & 2
  2. Books 3 & 4
  3. Books 5 & 6

_Morrison Adams Brief Cases_

  1. Books 1 & 2

  2. Books 3 & 4

  3. Books 5 & 6

* * *

Important notes for readers.

Only the highlighted titles are currently available. The remainder are due for release over the next few months. Please check with your vendor for the latest edition of this book.

We are a small team swift to expedite revisions to ensure our products are of the highest quality for your reading pleasure.

* * *

Table of Contents

Copyright

Other books

Never To Be Ignored

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Stolen By Jackdaws

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

###  Join My Exclusive Book Club

H A Dawson - Catalogue 1

H A Dawson - Catalogue 2

H A Dawson

# Never To Be Ignored

# Chapter 1

Several times a year I suffered nightmares and negative thoughts surrounding my deceased father. He died when I was five years old, and since I had enjoyed a positive relationship with him, I hoped that I suffered from illogical and unexpected reflections due to stress or fatigue. Yet deep inside I feared there was another explanation for these worrying occurrences; I feared I was remembering snippets of the harrowing truth, a truth my mother wanted me to forget.

Shifting in bed to glance at the time, I sought to blank my mind. Being due at work in less than an hour allowed me no time for indolent behaviour and contemplation, something I viewed positively since I didn't enjoy being morose. I also needed to wash away my chilled sweat, so at the sound of the flushing toilet I leapt from the bed and made my way to the bathroom, passing Marie, one of my housemates, en route. We exchanged a few words before I disappeared into the bathroom for a shower and she progressed downstairs.

As I washed, my head spun with thoughts of my father and the flashing images I tried to forget. Repeatedly, I witnessed over-protective parents clinging to their children within school grounds and harassing him with vicious words. I knew he had been a teacher, so that wasn't a concern. The problem lay with my mother vehemently denying that any such events had occurred.

My memories—if that was what they were—were so dissimilar to the picture my mother tried to paint that it was perturbing, to say the least. I knew it was impossible for me to have formed an accurate opinion of him; nonetheless, from the scraps my mother had shared over the years, I'd grown up believing him to be kind, caring and generous in thought and action.

Had she lied? If she had, I wasn't sure I wished to learn the truth behind my nightmares. It may enable me to learn something about my father I'd rather be ignorant to, and thus shattering the happy illusion I was desperate to hold onto. How would I feel then? Was raking up the past necessary or helpful to either my mother or myself?

Once I had dressed in my nurse's uniform, I progressed downstairs, made a tea and prepared a cereal, and joined Marie in the lounge. She lifted her gaze from the television to welcome me in the room, before continuing to watch the news programme.

I sat in a morose silence, eating my breakfast and staring at a spot on the carpeted floor. What kind of man had my father been? Would we have shared commonality? Would we have spent time together in restaurants and theatres? Would he have been proud of my career in nursing?

Marie interrupted my thoughts. 'What's bugging you today? You're not your usual chipper self.'

'Nothing.' I scrutinised her taut expression. 'I guess I'm still not fully awake.'

She must have accepted my reply as she began to tell me about her family's Father's Day celebrations that she had enjoyed over the weekend. I knew she wasn't being mean and that there was no way she could have known the truth behind my glum mood, but I couldn't help but feel angry at her for forgetting that my father had died and that I had no one to share such joy. Nevertheless, rather than displaying my irritation, I presented a cheerful face and encouraged her to talk about the day.

'Oh Shona,' she said. 'It was amazing. It's been years since we have all been together, and I'm not just talking about Father's Day either. We never manage it—not even at Christmas time.'

'I'm pleased for you.'

Hesitating, she passed me an apprehensive stare.

It must have dawned that I was without the privilege of having a father, but since I didn't want to share a conversation that would lead to an awkward silence, I leapt to my feet and hurried to the kitchen.

She trailed behind. 'Your father died of a heart attack, did he not?'

'That's right.'

'He must have been young.'

'My age... twenty-nine.'

'That's too bad. Still, what you don't have you don't miss. Or so they say.'

I did not reply and placed my dirty crockery in the dishwasher along with a few others left on the worktop, then placed the tea caddy into a cupboard, the milk into the fridge, and the previous nights empty takeaway containers into the dustbin.

Being the cleanest and tidiest of the four of us had its disadvantages since I felt as though I was forever doing most of the chores. We may have agreed to do things equally, and if I practised a little patience, I'm sure Ebony, Kelly and Marie would do their bit, but I couldn't abide an untidy house.

'You don't need to do that,' she said.

I passed her a blank stare.

'Are you sure you're all right, honey? You look a bit grey.'

'Honestly, I'm fine.'

Before she had a chance to probe any further, I told her I was going to leave for work. Since we were based at the same healthcare centre, Esterbeech, and she was going to be there all day, she asked if she could accompany me in my car. I was glad to oblige, and minutes later, we left our Victorian terraced house and started across the city.

The traffic was burdensome, but nothing more than what we had catered for. During the middle of the day, the journey could take me twenty minutes; at each end of the day, it could take in excess of thirty. It was a nuisance but nothing more. As a community nurse, I was accustomed to driving, sitting in queues, and negotiating hold-ups. It may be time-wasting, but it was part of my routine.

'You don't talk about your family much,' she said.

'There's not a lot to say. I only have Mum. My wider family lives in Devon and Cornwall, and we rarely see them.'

'That's a pity.'

'Not really. As you say, what you don't have you don't miss.'

'What do you remember of your father?'

I gulped and my body tightened. I felt certain given the intensity of Marie's gaze that she must have seen my arms tense, but she never commented and awaited my reply. 'Not much.'

'Aren't you curious?'

'What's the point? It won't solve anything.'

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Even though we had been close friends for a number of years, I felt too ashamed of my thoughts surrounding my father to share them, even with Marie. Instead, I evaded her questions as best I could and we continued to work in a strained silence.

Clearly, she was hurt. I should trust her enough to unburden my anxieties and fears regardless of the subject, but I just couldn't do it. My anxiety relating to my father's behaviour was deep-rooted and I wanted to remain ignorant of the truth. I wanted the perfect image I held in my heart to remain untarnished; I wanted the image I had of protective mothers hurtling abuse towards him to be nothing more than a figment of my imagination.

I parked the car in the staff-only section car park, and as Marie got out, I told her I would talk to her later. Her disappointment quickly evaporated and she strode away, leaving me alone to contact my mother, Judy Lowe. Since she too had enjoyed a day of celebration the previous day courtesy of her new partner and his two grown-up children, she was animated and jovial. However, time was short, and regardless of my needs and desires, I needed to put an end to her non-stop chatter.

'Sorry to butt in,' I said, 'but I called to see if you wanted a bite to eat and a catch up at the Queen's Head one evening next week?'

'Sure, that would be lovely. When are you thinking?'

'How about Tuesday at seven-thirty? I want to ask you a bit about Dad.'

The silence caused me to tense.

'Mum... are you there?'

'I can't tell you anything about him that you don't already know,' she said stiffly.

Her remark irritated. In truth, I knew little. She had told me bits, like the fact he had been an English Teacher, a canoeing enthusiast, and loved opera, but I didn't know much about his personality and the things that mattered to him. Was he reserved and thoughtful or abrupt and outspoken? Was he tolerant, patient and forgiving? Did he hold grudges? Did he hurt children?

The thought caused a lump to form in my throat. I regretted thinking such horrible things and urged my mind to something else by reiterating my suggestion for a meal out. I heard my mother agree; the rest and the negative comments she made regarding my request relating to my father were irrelevant. I had got my wish and gained an opportunity to initiate a conversation that was long overdue.

Feeling happier, I sauntered into work, chatted with the staff, and progressed to the office to complete a few admin tasks prior to visiting my first patient within the community. Since Mike, my manager was not there, I was alone and free to progress unhindered. After ten minutes or so, Marie stepped into the room.

'Sorry about earlier,' I said quickly. 'I didn't mean to offend you. I just have some things on my mind and I wanted to ring my mum.'

Her appreciation coated her face.

'No offence?'

'Of course not.' She reached into a cupboard and plucked out a wodge of forms. 'Mike's having a hard time. Have you seen?'

I shook my head.

She indicated with her head along the corridor and towards reception, causing me to step to the door. A tall scrawny looking woman in the forty to fifty age group was ranting about something to Mike.

'Any ideas who she is?' I asked.

'Not a clue. She's been having a go at him for several minutes, and before that, Kate on reception. She's a feisty one. I hope she's not put on my list.' She started out of the room then stopped abruptly and spun back around. A smile warmed her face. 'Have you passed by Dr Jeffries room yet?'

Puzzled, I shook my head.

'Well do yourself a favour, take a trip.'

I passed her a confused glance.

'I'll give you a clue. He's a Sam Heughan look-alike.'

After that, she was gone, leaving me alone with images of my favourite actor from the Highlander series. I was desperate to see him and learn if he was anything as she implied, and glanced down the corridor towards the room at the end hoping for a quick glance. I could hear shuffling sounds followed by what sounded like furniture scraping on the floor but learned nothing to assist me in my objective. Unwillingly, I returned to the office and continued with my task.

Every time footsteps sounded, I spun around. But the stranger never appeared, and I started to wonder who he was and why he was there. He couldn't be a new doctor since I believed I would have heard about it. I didn't even suspect he was a locum since no patients progressed that far. He had to be there for other reasons. Perhaps he was a builder or a technician.

Mike's appearance in the office caused me to dismiss it from my mind. He looked flustered and hot, and nodded his greeting and slumped into his swivel chair at the far side of a table. I'd completed my work and was about to leave when he called me back.

'What's your schedule like today?'

I passed him a blank glance; I was busy, as always.

'Can you fit a patient in at the end of the day?'

I nodded, curious as to his request. If he wanted me to take on someone new, I would. That was my duty.

'I've just been speaking to a cancer patient from our sister clinic. Her name's Carmen Tonks. She was diagnosed with stage 3 ovarian cancer earlier in the year and has been unhappy with the Macmillan Nurse assigned to her. She's demanded someone new.' He paused and caught my eye. 'She's made a specific request for you.'

'Me? How does she even know who I am?'

'Word spreads, I guess. You are good at what you do.'

I accepted his compliment with grace.

'I admit that it's strange that she's asked for you by name. She wouldn't even say why, but hey, if it keeps her quiet.'

'I saw that she gave you a hard time.'

He nodded. 'I'm sure she'll be fine. Some of her gripes are justified...'

His voice trailed. I got the sense he wanted to add that the majority weren't, but he stopped short. It wasn't professional to bad-mouth a patient, and that aside, I was bound to learn more about her troubles in due course.

'Her notes will be emailed to me by lunchtime. Will you be able to call back in to collect them?'

'Sure.'

'Thanks, Shona. Keep me informed of any problems.'

I agreed and with my head low and my thoughts on Carmen's unusual request to involve me, I stepped out of the room, bumping straight into the Sam Heughan lookalike.

Marie was correct. He was tall with a slender yet muscular physique, light brown shoulder-length hair, a tightly trimmed beard, a chiselled face, and dazzling blue eyes. He had me hooked, and suddenly I felt like a lovesick teenager and not the mature adult I was supposed to be.

'S-sorry,' I spluttered.

He chuckled. 'I'm not.'

I should have been concerned that he had gained pleasure from our bumping bodies, but I couldn't feel anything of the sort, and stared at him gooey-eyed and lost for words.

'I'd better get on,' he said grinning. 'I'm installing a new computer system.'

'Of course! I'd forgotten about that.'

He passed me an amused look. I had said too much and unwittingly admitted to either talking about him or thinking about him. But I couldn't retract my comment without digging myself a bigger hole. So I didn't speak, and stared, gormless and lost for words.

'I hope I'll see you around,' he said and stepped away.

'You will.'

I was transfixed and watched him travelling along the corridor taking strong steps without the wide gait seen in some men. To my regret, after a few steps, he spun around. Ashamed to be still in position, I quickly averted my gaze and hurried towards reception.

'You've met him then,' a voice said.

It didn't immediately register that it was Marie. When it did, she was chuckling to herself, adding to my embarrassment and causing me to hurry away.

'His name's Justin Rolles.'

'I'm not interested,' I said quickly.

The look on her face said that she didn't believe me. Had I been in her position I wouldn't have done either. Not that it mattered. Since I'd only just broken up with a long-term boyfriend, I wasn't in the right headspace for a new relationship. In addition, I had too much on my mind for love, namely my deceased father.

Cancer was a dreadful disease and brought out the best and the worst in people. Whilst some people dealt with it with astonishing strength, others were sapped of all hope and goodwill, and were left broken, exhausted, and without the energy or desire to fight. Regardless of their situation and the positive or negative energies exuded, it was my job to support my patients through the diagnosis and treatment, and where necessary, provide palliative care. It was, or at least could be a draining experience, and to get through each day I needed a constant supply of positive energy, optimism and patience.

Under normal circumstances, I had those traits. However, my recent negative thoughts relating to my father, and probably, if I was honest, my breakup with Tim, were taking their toll. In addition, I was starting to fear my mother's motives behind her silence and believed with a growing amount of trepidation that she had lied to me for years. It was an uncomfortable notion that intensified a feeling of dread, but it was also something I must set aside, at least for now.

Progressing towards my meeting with Carmen, I tried my best to believe she wouldn't be as antagonistic as she had appeared at the centre. I also reminded myself of her situation. No one asked for cancer, and certainly not one as advanced as hers with only a slight chance of remission. Added to the fact she was only in her early forties, and as far as I could tell from her notes she lived alone and was without family support, she was not in a good place. The least I could do was be supportive, helpful, and understanding.

Determined to project the best face I could muster and deciding my problems were trivial in comparison, I guided my car through the new housing estate and reached her semi-detached home. She had a neat front garden incorporating a small square lawn and borders containing a blaze of colourful herbaceous flowering plants. Absorbing the scene, I admired the effort, self-respect, and desire necessary to keep something as insignificant as a garden in good shape in the circumstances.

Perhaps I had misjudged her. I hoped so, and rapped on the side door of the house and waited for her arrival. When I caught the anger on her face, and her tense jaw, bulging eyes, and prominent neck veins, I reconsidered. I knew there and then that my initial assessment of the type of patient she was going to be was accurate. In response, and committed to doing the best job I could, I took a deep breath and willed my best interpersonal skills to the fore.

# Chapter 2

Once Carmen had finished ranting about my tardy arrival, which I apologised for profusely, she guided me through to the lounge and told me to make myself comfortable while she made a drink. It was unusual for me to have time for such pleasures, but since it was the end of the day and I was effectively in my own time, I agreed, sank into the armchair and waited for her to make an appearance.

The inside of the house was as equally impressive as the outside with no dust visible on the tops of framed paintings or on the ornaments, and no stray items spread about the room. The furniture was of high quality and incorporated a black leather sofa and an oak display cabinet in the corner. Mounted on the wall was a television. There were no family photos around the place.

It was clear that Carmen was house-proud, something I could relate to, and I was impressed. It couldn't be easy finding the energy or desire to maintain a house to such a high standard whilst undergoing chemotherapy, and especially not since I had seen two cats about the place, both of whom would add to the uncleanliness in the house. It was something positive I would refer to should the need arise.

Confident of the path I would take, the moment Carmen arrived with drinks I initiated a discussion by going through her case notes, starting with the cancer diagnosis and progressing to the current phase of chemotherapy. She started by telling me that at the start of the year she suffered pain in her leg following by a swelling, which turned out to be deep vein thrombosis. It was then that the doctors suspected something more serious, and after multiple tests, they discovered a large tumour on one of her ovaries.

Carmen didn't speak of the trauma she must have endured upon learning cancer was suspected, but emphasised the multiple failings of the medical staff, starting with her doctor. She claimed he hadn't been helpful or willing to treat her, and said if he'd had his way, he would have dismissed her outright. They were claims I found difficult to accept, causing me to wonder if she had misinterpreted either the tone of his voice or the phraseology used. Regardless, I tried to be as sympathetic as possible whilst remaining impartial and, where necessary, applying an upbeat approach.

Carmen's ranting continued. Next, she described multiple delays in acquiring the correct sized support stocking for the thrombosis to the necessity of repeating certain tests due do to an error a nurse had made. It seemed as though she had endured a catalogue of errors, and I wondered if it was possible that she had been unlucky. However, given that she was a no-nonsense type of woman who readily told people of their failings, I doubted that to be the case. Once again, I kept these thoughts to myself and remained supportive at all times.

I wasn't being deceitful but professional. Regardless of whether I felt her problems to be genuine or not, I couldn't side with her against the system employing me. My job was to provide solutions. I could do nothing to rectify past events but I could encourage a calm state and a positive mindset.

She continued to tell her tale. It was almost two months after the onset of her deep vein thrombosis that Carmen had the ovarian cancer diagnosis confirmed. It was an aggressive tumour type at the high end of stage three and the worst possible news.

'I couldn't believe how slack they'd been,' she said. 'Nothing should take that long to diagnose should it?'

'It must have been a stressful time for you.'

'And it could have been avoided if they'd pulled their fingers out! When I turned up for my first scan, they had my appointment down as another day and they couldn't fit me in. Can you believe that? I'd taken a day off work too. I was well and truly pissed and I really let rip. Not that it made any difference. They still made me wait another nine days.'

I stared at my notes. If I allowed this to continue, I would be there a long time. 'Can we—'

'Then there was a delay with the biopsy. I was told the results would be fast-tracked, so theoretically it should have arrived sooner than the two weeks it normally took. But guess what?' She paused for effect. 'Staff problems!'

I frowned.

'In the end, it was a day short of three weeks before I learned the results.'

'I'm so sorry you've had problems. All I can do is to try to prevent anything similar happening again.'

'If you ask me if it can go wrong, it will go wrong, at least as far as I'm concerned. I'm jinxed.' She shook her head. 'Definitely.'

I felt for her, I really did, but what could I say that would alleviate the anguish she felt? The diagnosis had transformed her world, and nothing I could say would change that.

Being a cancer nurse could be a challenging task. It was a rotten job at times and I craved the day I could wave a wand and make things better. But that day wasn't about to arrive anytime soon, and so I had to make the most of the tools I had. 'I understand you've had three sessions of chemo and a scan, and you're awaiting the results.'

Carmen's nod was slight; she held a stern expression and reached for her tea.

'And the scan occurred three days ago.'

'That's right. If the last time is anything to go by, the results will arrive in a couple of weeks' time... at the soonest.'

'I shouldn't try to think about it too much.'

'Easy for you to say! Your life's not on hold!'

'No,' I said carefully, 'I understand that, but worrying about it won't push it along. And whilst I understand the wait is stressful, the amount the cancer progresses during that time will be minimal if not non-existent.'

She stared angrily at her knotted hands.

'Not everything is going to happen perfectly I'm afraid, but it won't affect you long-term. Some things are out of our control, and they're the things you have to forget about. I agree it won't be easy, but I would like us to focus on what we can control rather than the things we can't.'

'Easy words...'

'I know,' I said softly, 'but I believe you're strong enough to do this. You're a fighter, Carmen. How about you try to put some of your strength into a little positive energy?'

Her face slackened.

'I know what I'm about to say is a cliché,' I continued, 'but we have to deal with what you're going through one day at a time. There's no point in looking ahead in circumstances such as these. The future is not written and a lot can change between now and some point in time.'

Slowly, she lifted her gaze. I assumed if she disagreed with me that I would hear about it, so I carried on with my speech, and over the course of the next half an hour, I learned a bit more about her. As suspected, she lived alone, she never married, and her only family was a brother she constantly fought with and a female cousin many years her senior. Employed on a contract basis as a postal worker in the parcel delivery section, she had flexibility for treatment.

Her strength of mind amazed me. Not only was she dealing with cancer alone, without any assistance from either family or friends, but she was working full time too. It was more than I would have expected given the severity of the treatment, and I was impressed.

'Chemo doesn't affect me,' she said. 'I don't get sick at all.'

'That's good. It doesn't mean it's not working.'

'No, I know that.' She reached for her mug and passed me a quick sidelong glance. 'It would be nice to feel something, though. It would be reassuring.'

'I doubt there's any need to worry on that count. Do you feel ill at all, in between treatments?'

'Not often. I have to be careful not to do too much as I can get tired, but that's about it. I suppose I'm lucky after all. How ironic is that?'

I forced a smile.

'Even pre-diagnosis, I didn't have any pain. I never had bloating or trouble eating, or anything like that. In fact, if you had asked me about my health at the start of the year I would have said I was in tip-top condition.'

At diagnosis, her cancer had progressed beyond her abdominal cavity, with tumours of greater than two centimetres in diameter in the lining of the abdomen. It had also progressed to the surface of the liver, although not in the liver itself, and so to be that far advanced, I felt certain the signs had to have been there, making me consider the truth of her statement.

Whilst it may be true that some people didn't have many symptoms, perhaps because of a high pain threshold, I believed it was more likely that she had not recognised them as a concern or blocked them out for fear of what she would learn. Also, there was her weight to consider. She may have said she had never had eating problems, but she was underweight. It could have been because of the cancer, but after a little surreptitious probing, I learned she had put weight on since her diagnosis, meaning she had been malnourished, quite potentially, for years.

It was a worrying situation and a sign she was ignoring what was taking place in her body. However, since I wasn't there to judge but support, I cast such pointless thoughts aside and focused on the future and on helping her in the best way that I could.

A short while later, and since time was in short supply and I had already been there for far longer than I should have been according to the guidelines, I announced my departure. Once I had reaffirmed the form our relationship would take, I gathered my belongings and started away.

Carmen held open the door. 'Are you Jimmy Lowe's daughter?'

Her question surprised, causing me to gasp and stare, and then offer a slight nod.

'Did you ever find out why he took his own life?'

'W-what?' I studied her impassive expression. 'No... he had a heart attack.'

Even as the words left my mouth, I knew I shouldn't have spoken out. Evidently, my mother had told me another lie. She had been ashamed of whatever had gone on, and rather than providing me with a little honesty, she had taken the easy option. Of course, she would say she was protecting me, but how could that be true? I should not be learning something so fundamental from one of my patients.

'You seem surprised?'

'No,' I said quickly. 'If it seems that way it's only because you knew.'

A smug expression landed on her face. 'I lived locally—close to the school he taught in.'

'You knew him?'

She pressed tight her lips and held a firm stare. It was clear that she knew something more substantial, although there was no way of knowing if it would turn out to be significant. Sometimes people claimed to know more than they did to gain the upper hand, and given what I knew about her, I suspected that was what she was doing.

Ignoring her pride-filled expression, I left her house and hurried to my car. Then, alleviated of my need to be professional, I sank back onto the seat, pulled my phone from my bag, and dialled my mother's number.

'Dad killed himself!' I screeched. 'How could you not tell me?'

She did not reply.

'I had a right to know!'

'And how would that solve anything?' Mum said. 'It doesn't change anything, does it?'

'Of course, it does! He was my father!'

'How does that bring him back?' She paused. 'I'm sorry, but I have to go. A woman's in labour and—'

'So that's it. That's all you're going to say.'

'Yes, for the moment. Please forget it. It's not important and—'

'Of course, it's important! You lied to me!'

'Shona, please realise this is difficult for me as well. I'll tell you all you need to know when we meet, okay?'

Reluctantly, I agreed.

'Thank you,' she said and the phone clicked in my ear.

# Chapter 3

It had been a few days since I visited Carmen and learned the truth about my father's death, and I still couldn't evacuate it from my mind. I was far too ashamed to admit to anyone that my mother had lied to me about something so important, and I felt as though it was a reflection on me. She may argue that she was protecting me, but to me, it seemed more likely that she doubted my strength of character and ability to cope. It seemed a little crazy considering I dealt with people's emotions on a day-to-day basis. I wasn't weak and I wouldn't breakdown at the first sign of bad news.

Acting on automaton, I made a swift meal, a stir-fry with Quorn mince, and put it on a plate. I hadn't seen Ebony or Kelly for a couple of days since they were working the night shift, and I had done my best to avoid Marie, fearful of her probing questions. Since she was out visiting family and I had the place to myself, I decided to take my meal to the lounge and switched on the television.

There wasn't anything on to occupy my mind, ` so I continued to ponder my father's short life and question the reasons for his death. I could have spoken to my mother again, but I doubted she would tell me anything over the phone and decided to wait until we met. I also wasn't sure what I wanted to ask, and so it felt right to put the moment off.

Wanting to remind myself of his life and if I was honest search for answers to my mounting unease, I went up to my bedroom and extracted a photo album and a few small mementoes relating to my father from a cupboard. Once I had carried them downstairs, I spread them across the sofa for my perusal.

Saddened by my loss, I touched the few mementoes from a small teddy he had given me with an 'I love you' message on the front, to a birthday card he and my mother had given me for my fifth birthday. Then I opened the photo album.

I smiled at the photos. They were of my early years. In some, I was alone—at the beach, on the playground, and at home; in others, I was with either one of my parents. There weren't many of my father, but enough for me to gaze at his rounded cheery face, untidy hairstyle and plump physique, and my heart melted. I yearned for him to return to my life, and imagined his deep mellow tones, his soothing words and his hearty laughter, and I ached with my loss.

Despite what was before me, my memories of him were limited, and for much of the time, I relied on photos or my mother's recollections for knowledge. Yet having learned of her lies, I felt as though I knew little. I couldn't trust her at all and wondered if he had been the kind-hearted spirited man she claimed. He must have had a dark side. Why else would he have ended his life? It could only have occurred because of a mental condition, surely.

A thought dawned. Could it be he had been bipolar and suffered extreme mood swings, and as a result, he had unwittingly ended his life? It sounded possible, especially when I remembered hearing of a man who had suffered a manic episode and jumped from a balcony in a hotel in the belief he could fly. It would also explain my mother's description of him, which was always positive and edging towards euphoria.

The realisation settled my mind. I had to have hit the truth. Only an illness could have caused him to do something so extreme. I also doubted his end could have been preordained; it seemed out of character, and surely, if it had occurred because of something intolerable in his life, I would have known about it.

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, my gut clenched with my anxieties. In truth, my mother could have kept a myriad of secrets from me, and she probably had. Especially since, a couple of months after Dad's death she cut off all ties with the past and moved out of the region, something that would have prevented me from learning something by chance.

Thinking back, I realised she had never given me a reason for the move except to say she wanted a fresh start. We weren't moving closer to family and whilst she changed jobs, I clearly remembered her saying it had taken up to a year to feel up to working again.

My ignorance was a concern.

The sound of footsteps caused me to jolt. Upon hearing Marie's voice, I quickly placed the mementoes in a bag and slammed shut the photo album. However, I didn't react quickly enough and Marie's gaze fell onto my possessions.

'Aw, baby photos!' she said. 'Let's have a look.'

Reluctantly, I passed the album.

She flicked through the pages. 'You're so cute.' She cast me a wry smile. 'What happened?'

I did not reply and watched as she turned page after page, before arriving at the first one of my father.

'I take it this is your dad?'

My nod was slight.

'He looks nice. Is he the reason you've got this stuff out?'

Her perception surprised.

'You've been odd since Father's Day. It doesn't take a genius to link the two.'

I took the album from her and placed it in the bag. In recent days, I had done everything I could to avoid this conversation; now it seemed I had no choice.

'Mum's never told me much about him,' I said. 'I'm curious, I suppose.'

'Then talk to her.'

'I'm going to. We're meeting up in a few days' time. I've warned her that I want to talk about him and she wasn't happy.' I took a reassuring breath and forced a happy face. 'It's no big deal, though. Whatever went on is in the past. Learning about his death won't change anything.'

She narrowed her eyes. 'I thought you said he'd had a heart attack.'

'I did. Carmen told me it was suicide.'

'Carmen Tonks! Our patient!'

My nod was almost imperceptible.

'How could you not have known about this?'

'I must have forgotten. I've been thinking about it a lot lately and I can't remember when Mum said it was a heart attack. I might have even made it up.'

'I'm sure you'd remember something like that.'

'Not necessarily. And as I said, it doesn't change anything.'

'You still had a right to know.'

'It's fine.' I studied her anxious face. 'I'm fine. The news has just made me feel a bit nostalgic that's all.'

Her face softened and after a few moments of pensive thought, she disappeared into the kitchen. For a couple of moments, I listened to the clattering of crockery, the opening and shutting of a squeaky cupboard door, and the sound of the water heating in the kettle. Then, I disappeared with my belongings to my room.

A little voice told me I was hiding away again, displaying the sense that I was afraid of discussing the truth and the constant burning pain I suffered daily, and so I forced myself to return downstairs. To my gratitude, Marie didn't bring up the subject again, and sipped her drink, flicked through a magazine, and kept one eye on the television.

'Was Carmen as difficult as we suspected?' she said eventually.

I was grateful for the change of subject. 'No, she wasn't. She was actually quite nice... a pleasant lady. She's feisty and defends her corner but she also has a warm side. She's hugely independent and takes great pride in maintaining her appearance both personally and as far as the house and garden are concerned. Plus, she seems to be coping with her cancer amazingly well. She's doing all the right things—keeping busy, staying positive...'

Marie was aghast. 'Someone who's permanently angry is carrying a lot of stress and not displaying much positivity in my book!'

I grinned. 'Okay, maybe I exaggerated a little. She did spend most of her time moaning about everything that had gone wrong. I couldn't get much out of her as far as her cancer and the treatment plan was concerned—that's why I said she was positive. When she did tell me bits, she said the right things. She works, she has a routine, and everything is good.'

'But is she really doing well or is she hiding from the truth?'

I was thoughtful. Given her diagnosis occurred when the cancer was advanced, added to the fact she has she never accepted being underweight, I feared she was struggling to accept the diagnosis and quite potentially lying about the side effects. It was an understandable reaction and something I had dealt with before. I didn't consider it beneficial.

I understood that not everyone was the same and that some people were better off trying to maintain an element of oblivion, but I strongly believed that it was better to accept the situation and deal with it in the best way possible. It provided inner peace and stopped the person from asking pointless questions such as, 'why me?' It also reduced stress.

I had seen a scientific paper that proved that stress increased the cancer's ability to spread and grow within the body. I also believed I had witnessed first-hand the benefits of positive thought. In those instances, my patients had lived a life extending beyond their prognosis and did so in relatively good health with infrequent bouts of sickness and fatigue. Surely, that was what I should be striving for with everyone.

I raised my head to speak. 'There's something about her that makes me want to help her... more than normal. She lives alone and as far as I can tell, she doesn't have a confidant. It can't be an easy position to be in.'

'So what are you going to do?' Marie asked.

'It's part of my training to help people with the mental side of their illness, so I would like to try to change her attitude. To do that, firstly I'd like her to admit to any side effects, which I feel certain are there, and secondly, I'd like to try to get her to see her remaining time as a positive rather than a negative.'

'I thought you said she still had a chance of recovery.'

'She does... hopefully. Regardless, I'd like to see her pessimism reduce. I get the feeling she wants to control everything and every eventuality, and it's not possible. As we both know, especially when dealing with the health service, some things have a life of their own.'

Marie agreed. 'Be careful you don't alienate her. She's sacked one nurse already.'

I smiled at her concern.

'And just remember, sometimes blocking things out is the only way forward.'

I stared at my lap.

'Isn't that what you're doing with your father?'

# Chapter 4

For days, Marie's comment perturbed. Until she pointed it out, I hadn't realised the symmetry between my situation with my father and Carmen's situation with her cancer. In the same way that I didn't want to learn the truth about my father's death, Carmen didn't want to think about her diagnosis and prognosis, and for years had blocked out her symptoms indicating her cancer. Obviously, a fear of the unknown was something that affected us all at some stage, and my time was now.

In many ways, I was happier living a life of blissful ignorance. I also wanted to cling to my belief that my father had been either bipolar or had suffered severe depression, and that he had been a victim of an illness out of control, yet despite my moment of certainty days earlier, as I considered Marie's comment fresh doubts emerged. I was trying to bury the truth, a truth I'd rather forget.

Had it been true, I wouldn't have suffered flashing images of him receiving abuse from protective mothers. There had to be more to his death, and I wondered if something or someone had driven him to it. It was an unsettling thought, and uncertain that I wanted to raise the subject with my mother, I parked the car in the Queen's Head car park and strode to the entrance.

My pulse was quick and my skin chilled and moist. Moving awkwardly whilst clinging tightly to my handbag slung over my shoulder and hanging at my side, I strode to the entrance—a large door set in an alcove with an arched stained-glass window at the top—and stepped inside.

I was familiar with the surroundings having often chosen this venue for my evenings out. The bar was at the furthest point and facing the entrance, and there were dark wooden tables and chairs in between. Around the perimeter were padded benches, and in the corner to my right, next to the door there was a pool table and a dartboard. Currently, there were three men and two women gathered in that area; the women huddled on the bench and the men played pool.

My mother stood at the bar chatting to the barman. The conversation continued for a while before I was able to place an order for food and purchase a drink. If I was honest I was grateful for the distraction; now I was there, my nerves relating to my father were so intense that I was doing whatever I could to avoid bringing up the subject. My mother seemed grateful too, and as we took our seats at a table at the edge of the room, she talked non-stop about her work as a midwife.

She loved what she did, and despite having done the same job for close to thirty years, she still displayed the same enthusiasm I remembered seeing as a child. And she had some beautiful stories to tell, starting with a delivery of triplets to a tale of a woman who had been a surrogate for her infertile sister.

'They didn't tell anyone about the surrogacy,' she said. 'The woman who was pregnant hid it with loose clothing and the other wore extra padding.'

'No,' I said, unable to hide my astonishment.

Mum nodded. 'When baby came, the surrogate insisted I handed him to her sister. It was an amazing display of deep sibling love.'

I sipped my drink.

'But not everything has had a happy ending. There was the time when a child protection order was placed on the new arrival, and as soon as baby arrived, the little mite was taken away.' She paused, attentive. 'Imagine going through pregnancy and childbirth knowing that was going to happen. It must have been traumatic.'

'How did the mother handle it?'

'She never said a word—not a thing. She didn't even make much of a sound during labour. She was unique throughout.'

'Do you know what she'd done for it to happen?'

She shook her head. 'I've not a clue. All I can imagine is that she was a serious threat to the newborn. Most of the time these things happen with good reason.'

She continued with her tales. I'd heard many of these stories before, but I didn't mind listening to her again. In fact, I actively encouraged her and reminded her of the story of the father who had been at two births within a month, one, of which was his lover.

My mother chuckled. 'He was horrified when he learned I'd been at the first birth with his lover. His wife was the mother of the second baby, and she didn't have a clue about his lover, let alone her pregnancy, so as you can imagine, he was worried I'd let something slip out.'

'I wonder if she ever found out.'

'I'd love to know that too. Sometimes I think it would be nice to follow these cases up to see how everything turns out.' She sipped her wine. 'Having said that my happy illusions would be shattered, undoubtedly. Nothing is quite as pure as childbirth. For the majority, it's downhill from there.'

'What's the youngest woman you've had under your care?'

'She was twelve.' She shook her head. 'Can you believe it? She was terrified and seemed to be in shock when baby arrived, as though she never expected it to happen. She pleaded with her mother to hold him. It was terribly sad.'

'There must be a lot like that.'

'Unfortunately, there are. Even those a bit older don't always do much better. They're still children themselves. There is no way they're mature enough to be responsible for another life.'

Our food arrived breaking us from our conversation. I had a vegetarian burger and chips, and Mum had chicken nuggets. Both smelled delicious, and my mouth watered in expectation.

We tucked in, sharing little in conversation and allowing my thoughts to wander back to my father. If I didn't speak out soon, I feared I would miss a key opportunity to speak about him, yet at the same time, I didn't want to break the happy mood. Given we both worked unsociable hours, our paths didn't often cross, and so when they did, we liked to make the most of it.

I was still pondering whether to broach the subject when a group of men entered the pub grabbing my attention. I didn't know who the first two were, but I knew the third. It was Justin Rolles and my pulse quickened into overdrive.

When our eyes met, his face softened into a bright smile. He was even more adorable out of his work gear and wore tight jeans and a khaki green cotton shirt, and I couldn't take my eyes off him. I must have been drooling as my behaviour caused my mother to spin and ask me who he was. Embarrassed, I averted my gaze and mumbled an evasive reply into my food.

Taking sneaky glances, I watched as he chatted with his friends at the bar before taking his place at a table on the opposite side of the room. I didn't believe it was a coincidence that he chose a seat facing me. When our eyes met multiple times over the course of the next few minutes, I believed I was right. However, right now, he would have to wait. I needed to do something to take my mind away from him, and so I re-instigated the subject of childbirth and asked Mum about the more depressing cases she'd had to deal with.

'The worst case I'd had was when one of the recently trained nurses told me of a woman who had been pushing for a while to no avail. Concerned, I checked her out, but I couldn't feel a thing. There was no baby there.'

'What?'

'It was a phantom pregnancy—the worst I'd ever seen. The woman was so desperate to have a baby she'd imagined it all. She'd had multiple miscarriages over the course of the past couple of years, and fooled herself into believing she'd gone full term.'

'Didn't she have any scans?'

'Apparently not. She was afraid of what she'd learn. By dealing with it herself rather than involving doctors or nurses, she could carry on living in her dream world.'

It was a shocking story and another case of someone being happier living in ignorance. I was no different and likewise with Carmen. It was a means of dealing with the pain, a way of avoiding a potentially devastating outcome.

'Of course, she had psychiatric help,' Mum continued. 'It's not that uncommon for counselling of some sort to be offered. Not when something goes wrong.'

'Like when a stillborn occurs.'

She nodded. 'That's the worst thing to happen. And I've had a few of them in my time too.'

'When was your first?'

Her face tensed, her gaze drifted, and her hand tightened on her wine glass. It was as though she was reliving the harrowing moment and couldn't escape.

'Mum?' I said softly. 'What is it?'

'Nothing.' She said and wiped her mouth with a serviette. 'I was just remembering it, that's all.'

'Were you young?'

'I don't remember.'

Her response seemed a little clipped, causing me to stare at her with questioning eyes. Surely, if it had affected her as greatly as she displayed, then the incident would be etched into her memory.

'It's not something I care to remember,' she said stiffly. 'How are you anyway? And who is that man you keep making eyes with?'

'I'm fine. And as I said, he's no one.'

Her blatant change of subject irritated me. She was good at guiding the conversation to talk only about the things she agreed with, and whilst I didn't consider what she had dismissed as important, the fact that she refused to answer my question annoyed me. It was how she would behave should I raise the subject of my father, a thought causing my hackles to rise.

'Come on Shona,' she said shifting seats for a better look of Justin. 'It's clear you like him, and the same goes for him too given the looks he's giving you.'

My skin tingled, my mood lightening.

'He's good on the eye. You know how to pick them, I'll give you that.'

'Will you stop staring?' I hissed. 'I'm not ready to go out with anyone again, and that aside, I know nothing about him. He might be married for all I know.'

'He hasn't got a ring on.'

I tried not to look, but I couldn't help it and stared across the room at his hand wrapped around a pint glass. Since I needed to hide my secret fantasy, I forced myself not to look at his face and shifted positions so he was out of my line of sight.

'You need to spark up a conversation with him. I'll go if you like... leave you two alone.'

'No,' I said quickly. Not only did I not want her interfering in my love life as I feared she would make an embarrassing comment, I still had questions to pose relating to my father. I might not get this opportunity again, and having deciding to pluck up courage before it was too late, I turned the conversation onto his suicide.

Her tension was visible. 'Do we have to do this? There's nothing to tell, and you'll only be bringing up memories best laid to rest.'

'It's my right to know.'

'Rubbish! And are you forgetting how difficult it was for me? I was only twenty-four and with you to look after, too. I had no one else.'

I knew she'd had a massive row with my grandmother around the time of my father's death, but I didn't know anything more. It was a puzzling situation. As far as I knew, Mum hadn't had a conversation with my grandma for years, and neither had I. There'd always been bitterness between them, again for reasons I couldn't fathom.

'Wasn't grandma there for you?' I asked.

'Do you honestly think she would have had the time for me? She cared only for herself. She was too busy gallivanting off with some rich man to worry about me.'

'So you'd fallen out by then?'

'Why all the questions all of a sudden?' She paused and scrutinised my expression. 'Is there anything else you want to ask while you're at it?'

Her comment hurt. Nonetheless, I wasn't going to give in, and mumbled my need for answers and added that it was difficult for me too.

'Oh Shona, don't kid yourself. You were still a baby. Yes, you missed him for a few days, but it was hardly the same.'

'I was five years old, not a baby.'

Her stare was unremitting.

'I might not remember him, but he was still my dad and I have a right to know a bit about him.'

'You know what you need to know.'

Justin rose from his seat, distracting me from my thoughts. As he walked to the bar, passing down the centre of the room, our eyes locked and my heart fluttered. There was a twisted smile on his face, as though he was enjoying every moment of our brief connection, and it dared me to believe in a possible relationship. However, before I had a chance to dream any further, the intensity of my mother's stare drew my attention.

'How did Dad die?' I asked.

She breathed a noisy sigh and reached for her glass.

'I need to know.'

'Why do you have to be so gory? Can't you accept it happened and leave it at that?'

I did not respond.

'He jumped from a cliff in Warwickshire, okay? I didn't know he was going to do it. As far as I was concerned, he had gone away for a couple of days on a canoeing trip. It... it was out of the blue.'

'Did he leave a note?'

She shook her head and her eyes misted with tears.

Her anguish was apparent and caused me a rush of guilt. But I couldn't end a conversation that we should have had twenty plus years ago, and despite the intensity of her pain, and the twitching of her muscles, the flickering of her eyelids, and the goose pimples on her forearms, I pressed on with my need.

'So you had no idea he was going to do it?' I asked.

'Not at all.'

'How do they know it was suicide rather than an accident?'

'Witnesses... several of them.'

'Was he...' I paused, gulping my dread. 'Was he depressed?'

She stared at me as though my question was ridiculous. And perhaps it was. For him to do something so extreme must he have had a mental problem of sorts. Rewording my question, this time asking if his condition was a long-term illness, I waited for her reply. Eventually, after sighing and puffing, and delaying her response as best she could, she told me he wasn't taking medication, nor was he bipolar. She described the incident as a momentary blip in his otherwise sound mind, and she sounded convincing. Yet it didn't make sense. Every suicide had to have a cause. As far as my mother was concerned, my father had none.

'Something must have happened,' I persisted. 'No one does something so extreme without good reason.'

'Well Jimmy did and that's the end of it.'

'Were you happy together?' I asked. I knew I was pushing my luck, but I couldn't help myself. I needed to learn the cause of his actions and I felt now was my only chance. My mother wasn't forthcoming at the best of times. This was the most I'd had out of her for years.

'Of course, we were happy... blissfully. I loved your father more than anything in the world, and him me. Why else would I have taken so long to find someone else?'

I stilled. Perhaps she hadn't found the right person or perhaps she had avoided personal relationships. There could have been an assortment of reasons for her decision; it didn't have to be due to a broken heart.

'I wish you wouldn't do this,' Mum said. 'Do you realise how much you're hurting me?'

Even though my guilt emerged, I refused to fall into her trap and told her that I hurt as well.

She held an intense stare.

'I still have nightmares about him inside the school grounds,' I added.

Her exasperation was audible. 'You're not still on about that, are you? It's due to an overactive imagination, that's all. You have to let this go.'

Feeling like a petulant child, I pouted my lips.

'You won't uncover any juicy details if that's what you're hoping for. Your father was a good man, through and through. Yes, he made mistakes, but that's all they were. He loved me more deeply than I could even imagine. She meant nothing.'

Jerking, I raised myself upright. 'He had an affair?'

Suddenly flustered, she did not reply and stood up and donned her jacket.

'You can't just walk away. I have a right to know what happened.'

'You have no rights. He was my husband, not yours. What happened between us was our business. I never asked you if you slept with anyone else whilst you with Tim, now did I?'

I clenched my jaw; unfortunately, she had a point.

'What goes on in the bedroom is private business,' she continued. 'Now please let this go. I don't want your father mentioned again.'

'So that's it?'

She passed me a pitiful stare then strode from the pub. I considered chasing after her, but the sight of Justin watching me from the other side of the room caused me to remain to gather my composure. Biding my time and doing my best to appear nonchalant and in control, I sunk into the seat, quaffed the remainder of my drink and relaxed my muscles.

I knew I had made a scene, but rather than my concerns being with my parents, I was more afraid that I had blown my chances of a relationship with Justin. It shouldn't matter since we were barely on speaking terms, but it did, more than I dared admit. Not making eye contact, and not wanting to hang around for a moment longer, I grabbed my jacket and bag resting on the bench beside me and strode from the pub.

Once inside my car, the conversation with my mother repeated in my mind. I was furious with her for her secrecy and for treating me like a child with no rights, and I was determined to seek out the truth. Believing there was no better time to do something about it than now I accessed the internet via my smartphone and found what I believed to be my grandmother's telephone number. I couldn't be certain it was hers since I'd had no contact with her since I was a child, but the number I had acquired belonged to a woman of her name who resided in the area she once lived. Feeling brave, I dialled the number and left a message on the answering machine. Then, feeling disappointed for not making contact I put my phone on the passenger seat and placed the key in the ignition.

A voice calling out my name caught my attention.

It was Justin, and my heart quickened its beat.

# Chapter 5

He strode towards me with his hands in his pocket and his eyes never leaving mine. 'I thought I'd missed you. I couldn't get away from Derek and...' He paused. 'It doesn't matter. You're not going home, I hope.'

'I was...' My voice drifted, my eyes dancing. 'Unless you've any other suggestions.'

'I hoped you'd say that. Fancy going somewhere a bit different?'

I raised my eyebrows, questioning his comment.

'I'm a member of the Prexton Tennis and Squash Club. It's a nice place to chill out.'

'Sounds good to me.'

His face broadened into a smile. 'Great. Do you want to follow me in my car?'

I agreed, and after a brief exchange, we were on our way.

Following him through the darkened streets, my excitement and expectation buzzed through my veins, with images of us chatting and laughing occupying my thoughts. I hadn't been this excited to be going out with someone for years. In fact, it was probably during the early days with Tim some three years ago that I felt similar emotions. It was a great feeling and eliminated all the stress I had been feeling just minutes earlier. Suddenly, my dispute with my mother was insignificant, as was my desire to search for the truth behind my father's death.

Why it had bothered me was a mystery. As Mum had said, it wouldn't change anything and would only bring up memories of a time that would have been immensely distressing for her. I had been selfish. Perhaps I should send her a text with my apology before the evening was over.

After a couple more minutes, we arrived at our destination, an extensive single storey building surrounded by a car park on two sides and three tennis courts on the other. Whilst the tennis courts were floodlit, only the one the furthest from the road was in use. The car park wasn't particularly full either, which surprised me. I would have expected a place with such facilities to be heaving on a weeknight.

Upon exiting my car, I said as much.

'It's busy up until nine o'clock,' he said, 'then it quietens down.'

'Why's that?'

Justin shrugged. 'It's just how it is.'

We stepped inside, straight into the bar area. There were a few people within, with ages ranging from a group in their twenties to others in their seventies. I sensed from the clothes of the older men that they were there for social reasons rather than to use the sporting facilities. Perhaps they had been members for years and felt a connection to the club. Alternatively, I may be underestimating them and they may be proficient at one or both of the sports.

It was a spacious setting with a group of padded chairs and low tables in one section, and hard chairs and tables for eating in another. At the far side of the room was a door. I presumed it led to toilets and courts, although there was no sign indicating as such. Unconcerned, I waited by Justin's side as he purchased drinks before following him to an unoccupied corner of the room.

We chatted for a while about the club. Justin was a regular member, playing squash three times a week and tennis once during the weekend. Evidently, it was how he kept his fitness and why he looked good in his slim-fitting khaki green shirt, highlighting his washboard stomach.

Being a nurse, I had seen and heard of people who cared little for their health and suffered the consequences, whether it appeared in the form of prolonged viruses or in something more severe such as heart problems. Some people didn't agree that a good diet and exercise was worth the effort. I wasn't one of those people.

I cast him an appreciative glance.

'I'm not perfect, by any means,' he said. 'But I do care for my health.'

'You don't need to backtrack, I agree with you. I also think stress should be eliminated where possible too. It's one of the underlying factors in many health issues.'

'I agree, it's huge. There's a woman at this club who's always cross with something or someone. It can't be doing her any good at all, especially not since she has cancer.'

My thoughts turned to Carmen Tonks and her endless negativity, and I wondered, albeit briefly if we were talking about the same person. Ultimately, it seemed too much of a coincidence and I let my theory pass.

'It's sad,' he continued. 'I don't know her particularly well, but I've seen her around for ten or so years and I don't even think I've seen her smile once. She's always been the same, always moaning or moping about something.'

'Has she had a lot of problems prior to cancer?'

'Not that I've been aware of. I don't think she's had a partner in all that time, so she's not suffered a breakup.' He paused thoughtfully. 'There were rumours she was having an affair with a married man a couple of years ago, but I couldn't tell you if it was true or not. At one stage they were together all the time, and now they won't even look each other in the eye.'

'Something went on then, obviously.'

'I'd say so.' He sipped his drink. 'I'm sure you didn't come here to listen to me sharing club gossip.'

'It's not a problem. I find people fascinating and love to try to work out what makes them tick. In fact, I have a patient similar to the person you're describing, so I do have a motive.' I sipped my drink. 'I'm trying to understand what makes her tick too.'

'You're a people person, aren't you?'

My body tingled with pride.

'People naturally warm to you. I've seen it at the clinic.'

I stared into his green eyes and wondered if I had the same effect on him, but I dared not say anything, and after a few moments averted my attention to my fruit juice.

'What type of nurse are you?'

I looked towards him, noticing the glint in his eye and his slight smile, and then told him how I dealt primarily with cancer patients. I added how difficult it could be and gave him examples of the stress, the delays, and the constant negativity my patients often had to endure. Then, so I didn't sound like I was seeking sympathy or attention, I presented a more positive side and told him the joys of sharing an unexpected remission.

'You must have an optimistic personality.'

I nodded. 'I suppose I do.'

'I like that. And I'm sure it'll help you crack this difficult patient you have on your list.'

I hoped so too. 'I feel sad that she's wasting energy on unimportant things when it could be better spent on improving her health or enjoying herself.'

He agreed. 'In the case of the woman I know, I believe many of the bad things that have happened to her are self-inflicted. She takes offence easily and falls out with people over the slightest things. Then you can sense her asking herself, "why me?"'

I smiled at his comment. It was unusual for a man to understand people and their behaviour, at least to the point of vocalising it. I said as much.

'Psychology is a fascination of mine. I nearly did a degree in it, but in the end chose computer science.'

'Why the change? They're very different subjects.'

He passed me a sheepish look. 'My father thought it was a bit woolly and said it wouldn't provide me with a solid career.'

It was a pity he hadn't followed his heart, but I could understand his father's line of thinking in that the opportunities would be less. I could also appreciate why Justin had felt compelled to agree, and rather than seeing it as a weakness I saw it as an indication of the more caring side of his character.

Justin broke the silence. 'Tell me to butt out if you wish, but you seemed to be having difficulties earlier in the Queens Head pub. Was the person you were with your mother?'

I nodded and tensed. 'I'm sorry you had to witness that.'

'You weren't that loud.' A twisted smile formed on his face. 'I only noticed because I was watching you. The others were oblivious'

A little on my tautness eased. However, my embarrassment remained, and my mind swirled with snippets of the conversation I'd had, wondering as to what he had heard. But for the life of me, I couldn't remember the details; my mind was a fuzzy mess without any clarity of thought.

Justin touched my hand. 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything.'

'No, it's fine.'

He analysed my expression. 'You don't look fine. Anything I can help with? I am a good listener and I promise not to share it with anyone.'

I relaxed and smiled, and then, for a reason unknown, I blurted out my woes and mentioned my father's suicide. Justin was immensely supportive, and so I continued to tell him of my nightmares and the blank spaces in my memory. It was good to let it out, and half an hour later, I felt relieved of the agony relating to my mother's lies as well as the doubts surrounding my father's good character.

'So what are you going to do about it?' he asked.

'There's not a lot I can do. Mum has made it clear she's told me everything I need to know.' I paused reflecting on the call I had made to my grandmother, one I believed would turn out to be futile. 'And even if there was another way to learn more, I'm not sure I would want to. It could cause more heartache than what would be beneficial.'

'It's might not be as bad as you expect.'

'So why does my gut say otherwise? Why the nightmares?'

He did not reply.

'I hope you're right,' I said relaxing back into my seat. 'The events leading to my dad's death is something that's bothered me for years, ever since it happened, in fact. There's every chance I've blown it out of proportion and exaggerated bits over the years.'

'You'll work it out, I'm certain.'

I rotated my glass, hopeful. Then I caught his stare. 'My mother was defensive throughout. She told me my dad had an affair and it bothered her. I don't know why. It's no reflection on her.'

'Perhaps it just brought up bad memories.'

'Maybe. Mum keeps telling me I'm making too much of it. In fact, I had been starting to wonder if she's right.'

'I can understand why it bothers you, and only you know if it's worth pursuing. Just don't let it come between you and your mother. She's here, your father isn't.'

They were wise words, and his comment spread warmth throughout my body. No matter what I learned about my father, it would not change my feelings towards him, nor would it bring him back. However, it could ruin a perfectly good relationship with my mother.

I was about to thank him for his advice when something at my rear drew his attention.

'Don't look now,' he said, 'but that woman I was telling you about is at the bar.'

Of course, I turned to look. How could I not? And I couldn't believe what I saw. As I'd suspected earlier, the woman he'd been talking about was Carmen Tonks. Quickly, and with my jaw hanging in surprise, I turned back to Justin and in a whisper admitted that she was my patient.

'She's coming over,' he said, 'and she doesn't look at all pleased.'

Even though I hadn't spilt any of her secrets, I sensed I had done wrong by listening to Justin's description of her behaviour. My job was to support her. During the last hour, I hadn't done any of that. I may not have badmouthed her, but I hadn't defended her either, and my behaviour left a bad feeling in my gut.

Trying to force a confident front, I looked towards her. She had just arrived at the table and was scowling at me with a look so devastating that I felt myself cower. Un-shrivelling, I straightened my back and presented a cheerful face.

'I need to talk to you,' she growled.

'Sure.' I glanced at Justin and pondered what she meant. Did she mean she wished to set up a meeting at another time, or did she want it to happen now? It was gone ten o'clock and I wasn't in the best shape to provide her with my support. I also wanted to spend the remainder of my evening with Justin. I had enjoyed his company immensely, and our relationship was just starting to get interesting.

'I'll leave you to it,' Justin said, standing up.

'You don't have to go.'

Carmen held an angry stare. We both noticed, and since Justin had moved to her rear, he mouthed, 'good luck.'

I tried not to react, hoping to keep our secret from Carmen. I knew how difficult she could be having seen it firsthand at the healthcare centre. Alienating her would not be a positive move for either of us.

'Sit down,' I said.

She held an intense stare. 'How do you know Justin?'

'He's installing a new computer system for us at Esterbeech.'

'So you weren't talking about me.'

'No, of course not,' I said brightly and watched her sit down. 'So is it a meeting you wish to arrange?'

She did not respond, and so I asked her if her health had deteriorated or something specific had happened, but she was unwilling to be drawn. Instead, she brought the subject back around to Justin and asked me how long I'd known him.

I didn't want this conversation. Not only had I had a long day and wanted to go home, but I also didn't wish to talk about my personal life to one of my patients. It was bad enough that she knew a little about my history with my father; I didn't want her to know about my love life too.

'Is he your boyfriend?' she persisted.

'Just a friend.'

She held an unmoving stare, and after a few seconds of hesitation told me that she considered him smug. 'He might seem nice at first glance, and I admit he's good-looking, but once you get to know him...' She shook her head. 'Just be careful. He's not the good guy he portrays.'

I gritted my teeth. 'Is Justin the reason you came over?'

She did not reply.

'Thanks for your advice, but I can look after myself.' I raised myself to my feet. 'And if you don't mind, I've had a long day and I have an early start in the morning.'

'I'm not coping well at the moment,' she said quickly. 'This wait for the scan results is killing me.'

'Okay. Then we'll have a chat about it. I don't have my diary with me now, so we'll have to arrange it tomorrow.' I paused apprehensively. 'I really do need to go.'

'Are you going to catch up with Justin?'

I was both irritated and perplexed. Why was she obsessed with him? He wasn't a threat to our relationship. She need not be concerned. 'No, I'm going home to bed. I'm tired.'

She nodded appreciatively. 'If you weren't, I'd warn you away. Do you realise you're the bottom of a long list of women he's been with over the course of the last few months? I can barely keep up.' She spun her head to look at the woman at the bar. 'Ask anyone.'

I'd had enough and my patience was wearing thin. Hiding my exasperation, I slung my bag over my shoulder and turned to leave. 'I'll be in touch with a date for our next meeting.'

'I'll try to fit you in,' she said in a gleeful tone. 'I'm rather busy at the moment.'

I nodded and strode away. The woman was vexing. What had she been hoping to achieve by badmouthing Justin? Did they have a history, and was there any truth in her claims? He was a charming man and incredibly pleasing to the eye, so it could be true. Alternatively, she could have a hidden agenda.

My thoughts drifted, my worries building. I wasn't sure I wanted to involve myself with someone with such a history. I wasn't interested in relationships to satisfy a carnal desire. I wanted to be with someone that was after commitment; I wanted to be with someone I could trust.

I had had enough problems coping with Tim indulging himself in other sexual relationships and I didn't want to go through that again. Saddened and deflated, I slumped onto the car seat, turned on the ignition, and headed home.

# Chapter 6

I'd had a difficult morning with patients taking more time than I should have allowed, and it had drained me of energy. It wasn't easy to walk away and state time was up when my job was to provide personal support. If a patient needed to talk to me, I felt as though I had no choice but to listen. I couldn't brush aside their concerns and walk away; that would not be good for them or my morale.

Since my route took me close to Esterbeech Healthcare Centre, I decided to break for lunch, and parked my car and strode inside the main entrance. It was almost two o'clock and many patients had arrived for their afternoon appointments and were gathering around the reception desk and in the waiting room. Passing by, I greeted the admin staff in my usual cheerful manner and continued en route to the staffroom.

My first thoughts were with Justin, whom I had succeeded in avoiding since our chat a few days previous. I felt certain he would request another date and I wasn't sure I had the courage to turn him down. I had taken what Carmen had said to heart and believed he was the type to enjoy his freedom and avoid commitments. Whilst I wasn't desperate to be married, if I wanted children I didn't have time on my side and couldn't afford to waste time in casual relationships. And that aside, I wasn't the type to go from bedroom to bedroom. It wasn't my style.

Determined to make a stance should the situation arrive, I stepped into the staffroom, joining a couple of medical staff finishing their lunches, and turned the kettle on to make a drink. By the time it had boiled, I had the room to myself, and poured the water into my mug and inhaled the delicious aroma of dissolving coffee granules.

'Shona,' a voice said. 'Where've you been?'

My body tensed. It was Justin. 'Out and about... busy as usual.'

'I'm sorry I dashed off the other night, but I thought it best in the circumstances. In fact, I've been hoping to see you ever since. I should have got your phone number but...' His voice drifted.

I forced a smile.

'Sorry, I'm babbling. It's just I'm meeting someone in a minute and I would like to see you again if that's okay with you.' He glanced down the corridor, made a comment to someone about his imminent arrival, and turned back around. 'So is that a yes?'

'I'm not sure I've time this week.'

His face fell. 'Can we talk later? I'll leave my number with Mike. Okay?'

I nodded.

'You will call me, won't you? I really enjoyed our chat.'

I nodded again, more reluctantly that time, and watched him hurry away. I was in the process of carrying my coffee and sandwiches to a low table when Marie stepped into the room carrying a lunchbox.

'What's going on there?' she asked, peering at Justin along the corridor, and then shutting the door.

'Nothing.'

'If I heard correctly he just asked you for a date and you turned him down.'

I strode to a chair and plonked down. 'I'm not sure he's right for me. Carmen said some things about him being a bit of a womaniser, and after Tim...' My gaze drifted as I reflected on the number of times I had learned he was seeing other women. To make it worse, each time it happened, he claimed it was a one-off. 'I need someone I can trust.'

'How does Carmen know him?'

I explained what had happened and what she had said. Marie said little, but I got the sense from her expressions she was not impressed with the method Carmen had adopted to gain my attention. It led me to consider if I had made a serious error of judgement as far as Justin was concerned and if her words could be trusted. However, I couldn't backtrack now, and taking a break from my explanation to allow myself a little thinking time, I turned my attention to my sandwich.

It took a while for Marie to break the silence. 'I think you should give him a chance. You can't believe everything everyone says. Carmen could have other motives.'

'I realise that, but she knows him far better than I do. I don't see why she would lie. I'm not interested in someone who'll mess me about. I've had enough of that to last me a lifetime.'

'So you're going to reject every man who comes along simply because they've a bit of a history or because they might—and I stress the word might—play around at some point in the future.'

I opened my mouth to deny her claim.

'You'll rule out everyone if that's the case, honey. Plus, you've no evidence that Justin has a history. I'm not sure you should believe gossip.'

She had a point. Perhaps I was being over-sensitive, but I had every reason to be. By the time I made a decision to part from Tim I wasn't broken-hearted but grateful to be away from him. However, I hadn't always felt that way and had suffered months of agony and torment at his deception. It wasn't something I wished to go through again.

'You can't cut yourself off forever,' she continued. 'Justin may have come into your life a bit sooner than you would have liked, but don't turn him away just because the timing is bad.'

'It's not that, I...' I paused, reflective, and remembered what Carmen had said regarding his smug behaviour and him being not as he seemed. 'I'm not sure he's my type.'

'How so?'

'He's certain of himself. From what I know of him, I've every reason to believe he starts new relationships easily. He's hot—you said so yourself—and he's easy to talk to.'

She did not respond and waited for me to continue.

'He made me tell him things I wasn't certain I wanted to share. He has that way with people. I can imagine women falling for him all the time, and I doubt he turns them away. Why would he?'

'What did you tell him?'

He overheard me having an argument with Mum in the Queens Head about Dad and asked me about it. I wouldn't have normally said anything, but I couldn't help myself and told him about my dad's suicide. He's a good listener.'

'Just because Justin is friendly and easy to talk to doesn't mean he's a player. If you ask me, Carmen's motive is elsewhere. You said she interrupted your conversation because she needed to talk to you, but then said she had nothing to say. She's threatened by your relationship with him.'

'Do you think they've been an item?'

'Could have been, although I was thinking more along the lines that she's worried he'll turn you against her.'

I pondered her comment. It was possible, although a little ridiculous too. It didn't matter whether I liked Carmen or not; I would remain professional with her at all times.

'Have you asked her why she requested you as her nurse?'

'No, I haven't.'

'She must have had a strong reason for wanting your support to request you specifically. Anything that might break up that relationship is a threat to her.'

She had a point, but it seemed an insecure stance for her to take. I wasn't the best nurse around, and I had no other value, at least not to Carmen. I told Marie my thoughts.

'I still think I'm right,' she continued. 'If you want my opinion you should go for it with Justin. You'll soon have an idea what he's like.' She hurried to the sink, washed her mug, and started to the door. 'Of course, it wouldn't do any harm to make him wait a while.'

I smiled at her words, and then once I had cleaned up, I left the centre for my afternoon appointments. I felt much better having shared my concerns with Marie, but I still wasn't convinced that I should start a relationship with Justin. If I chose to, I wanted to be certain that I wasn't involving myself with someone who would bring me endless heartache. There was nothing wrong with a little caution. In the meantime, I had a series of appointments to attend, concluding with a meeting with Carmen at her house. Forcing my personal issues to the back of my mind, I started my journey away.

# Chapter 7

My afternoon was less stressful than my morning, and I arrived only half an hour later than my scheduled appointment. This time, Carmen didn't reprimand me for my tardy behaviour; instead, she guided me into her lounge in a glum silence.

I started in my usual manner and asked her how she had been. As before, she was difficult to draw out regarding her health. Even when I mentioned what she had said a few days previously about not coping so well, she refused to talk to me. In the end, after I had used various methods, she started talking about a problem she'd had at work.

Apparently, since her cancer diagnosis, she had been unreliable in her work habits and was either late starting or didn't turn up at all. She had taken a few days sick leave, which seemed reasonable in the situation, but her manager hadn't taken it well and bemoaned her efforts. Carmen's moist eyes told me that the situation affected her greatly, and so I tried to appease her with kind words and offerings of support.

Listening to one side of a dispute was difficult, and I felt sure there was more to the situation than what I had learned. Whilst I was aware that some people were unreasonable and hated any of their staff taking sick leave, I felt sure even the harshest of people would display a little leniency for someone undergoing chemotherapy. Yet according to Carmen, Monica, her manager, displayed no compassion whatsoever.

After an extended conversation, I learned that it was the amount of leave she was taking that bothered Monica. As soon as Carmen heard of someone having an infection, she refused to go in. I respected Carmen's decisions and understood the importance of doing what she felt was right, but at the same time, I understood that Monica needed someone she could rely on. Getting cover at the last minute would be difficult. I presented this argument to Carmen.

'It's not my fault I have cancer,' she whined. 'I didn't ask for it.'

'Of course, you didn't. All I'm trying to do is to help you understand the situation from her point of view, to alleviate your stress a little.'

She stared at her folded arms. 'She asked me if I should be working at all. How mean is that? I want to work. It's my prerogative to work. She's making me feel guilty and forcing me to put my health second.'

I wanted to suggest that working may be too difficult in the circumstances, but I couldn't do it; all that would achieve was to alienate her and that would be going against what I was there to do. Instead, I asked her in the gentlest voice I could muster if her decision to continue was in any way financial.

It wasn't; it was purely to occupy her mind. She didn't enjoy her job and had used it in the past as a means to the end. It also wasn't her preferred line of work as she had trained as a teacher, her calling, or so she said. Disputes had forced her into leaving, and since the incidents had left her with such a bad feeling, she didn't have it within her to return to the classroom.

It seemed that problems followed her around. Whilst I believed she instigated or at least perpetuated some of them with her harsh manner, I still felt a great amount of sympathy for her. Her antagonistic attitude wasn't a deliberate course of action; it was a basic and unavoidable character trait.

I tried to turn attention back to her health, but she still refused to be drawn. Given she had told me she'd had multiple sick days I feared she wasn't doing as well as she was claiming. Eventually, she admitted to feeling tired but added that she slept fine.

Fatigue was the most common side effect of cancer treatment, but unlike was the case with healthy patients, sleep and rest didn't always provide a solution. Patients had complained to me of feeling heavy, worn-out and without any desire to do anything. They also suffered mental fatigue and poor concentration, and this affected levels of self-esteem and quality of life.

I turned to Carmen's notes, searching for a cause. She had regular blood tests, and the latest one was as expected and without signs of anaemia or infection. After that, I asked her a series of questions, such as how long it lasted, what made it better and worse, and if there were activities, other than work, that it affected. She was vague with her answers, leading me to believe that it wasn't severe.

'On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the most fatigued, what level would you say you are?'

'About 6.'

After that, we discussed her eating habits, which seemed satisfactory. Also, she'd not had bowel problems; neither suffered constipation or diarrhoea, nor had she vomited. Therefore, dehydration wasn't a concern.

'Fatigue is quite normal,' I said, 'and can either be due to cancer or the treatment. If the cancer is spreading, it takes the nutrients from the food, stopping the body from absorbing them as efficiently as would once have happened, and therefore taking away your energy. We hope since you've started chemo that it's not true in your case. More than likely, it's going to be due to the ongoing treatment.'

'Great,' she mumbled.

'Your body is undergoing a massive change and needs extra energy to heal tissue damaged by the treatment. Also, when cancer cells are killed, they leave behind toxic substances, adding to your fatigue.'

She held an impassive stare.

'There are dietary supplements that may help, and both are readily available from health shops. The first is l-carnitine, which increases energy and lowers inflammation. The second is ginseng in the form of ground root. Trials with cancer patients have shown good results. Could I persuade you to give them a try?'

'Did you say I'll find them in health shops?'

'That's right.'

I told her to go to the one in the city. I knew a store with good supplies, and according to my other patients, the staff were helpful and supportive. Then I moved my thoughts to her mood and anxiety levels.

As I had discussed with Marie days earlier, it was plain to me that she was suffering from stress. Regrettably, Carmen didn't admit it to me, leading me to probe a little further. I even provided her with examples of her irritations, but she claimed they were understandable reactions to a given situation, a reaction everyone would be having.

'My entire life has been crap,' she said. 'You don't even know the half of it. In fact, I think I've dealt with everything better than most.'

How could I disagree? Her past was her business, and not something I could force her to share. And despite my desire to help her improve her quality of life, I had to consider the time I had available to her.

'I was put in a mental institute, you know?' she said.

I expressed my sympathy with my expression but did not ask her about it. She took the hint not to elaborate, enabling me to progress and ask her about her exercise regime. At first, she appeared distressed, instigating my guilt, but then she told me that she was busy.

'I'm always on the go. I might have a driving job, but I spend a couple of hours on my feet in the sorting office.' She assessed my inexpressive face. 'And I have to make so many deliveries in a day that I feel I'm walking more than driving. Then there's the tennis.' She paused, studying my interested expression. 'I'm not sure I can do any more.'

'I know you said you slept okay most of the time, but having heard how much you do, it might be worthwhile taking a short nap during the day.'

'I do sometimes. Often late afternoon... about now.'

'It might be worthwhile to try to fit one in in the middle of the day too. Perhaps after lunch.'

'Yeah, right. I can imagine that would go down well with Monica. I'd be shown the door.'

'It only needs to be about fifteen minutes. And it can help hugely.'

She did not respond.

'You do seem rather busy, and I'm not sure it's helping your health. Cutting down your hours may be a compromise. Could you consider that?'

'So you're suggesting I quit, so I can sit here and think about my crappy life all day? That would definitely help create a better mindset... not!'

I had to agree that quitting work altogether wouldn't be a solution. Stress on its own could cause fatigue, and given she lived alone and didn't have anyone to spend time with she was bound to spend more time than was healthy pondering her losses. On the other hand, if she continued to take liberties at work, she would be forced into the situation she was trying to avoid. It was an impossible situation to be in, and I expressed sympathy and understanding.

What she needed was something to get her up in the morning, and at this stage of her cancer, it would be difficult if not impossible to find. From what I had gathered, she had never been driven or inspired to do anything and rarely exuded happiness or exuberance throughout the course of her life. She was unlikely to start now. However, if she was going to get the best of her remaining time, it was imperative that I tried to coax her into believing she could find happiness again.

'What makes you happy?'

She passed me a blank look.

'How about playing tennis?'

She nodded and then told me how she had first learned to play when a coach from a local club visited her school. However, as she continued to tell her tale, her eyes drifted and her face tensed. I got the feeling something bothered her. When I commented, she told me how those few years had proved to be happiest of her life. Unfortunately, it had swiftly changed.

I was intrigued.

'I thought things had turned around,' she continued. 'When I was nine my parents separated and I lived with my dad. It wasn't easy—I was thrown from pillar to post as he was too busy to spend time with me.' She cast me an irritated eye. 'He had a string of floozies he preferred to be with. It was the cause of the separation.'

'Couldn't you have lived with your mother?'

She puffed out. 'I could have, I suppose. But we were always at loggerheads and I think one of us would have killed the other eventually.'

'It sounds like you've had a rough time.'

She shrugged. 'It doesn't matter. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?'

My nod was slight.

'When I was in my mid-teens I met someone through tennis and life was bliss.' She gazed dreamily through the window, and after a few moments turned back to face me. 'If there's one thing I regret it's how I dealt with things back then. I messed things up and... well... let's just say I went through hell because of it.'

I passed her a sad gaze. She had certainly had her fair share of problems. No wonder she wasn't an easy person to share time with.

'If you think my life is bad now then think again. This is nothing!' She hesitated and stared. 'You want to help me, right?'

'Of course.'

'Then I have a little job for you. I have a son only I haven't seen him since he was born.'

'He was adopted,' I said, although it was more of a question than a statement.

'Not adopted, stolen... and it was the reason they locked me up. I need to find him. You will help me, won't you?'

# Chapter 8

I was aghast. I had seen somewhere in Carmen's medical notes that she'd had a partial hysterectomy at some point in the past, but I hadn't realised that it was a post-partum hysterectomy, one occurring after childbirth. It was a dreadful thing to have happened, and I appreciated the trauma Carmen must have felt. She had been only sixteen years old and was without the support of her mother or another maternal figure in her life.

'They said my baby died soon after birth,' she said. 'They lied. I heard them talking. They took him away because I was unmarried and too young to cope.'

I quickly did my calculations. It must have happened more than twenty years ago during the last decade of the last century. I had heard of such things happening during the middle of the century, but not so late on. It seemed surreal and I struggled to accept she spoke the truth.

A memory relating to the comments she'd made regarding Justin's flirtatious behaviour flashed into my thoughts, and I wondered, albeit briefly, if both were lies. Was she good at spinning stories? Did she have another motive or was my thinking too suspicious for my own good?

'They sold him off,' she continued. 'There wasn't a damned thing wrong with him. He hadn't died as they said. I even heard his cry.'

'Was the father around?'

A smug look landed on her face and she hesitated to respond. Eventually, just as I was about to repeat my question, she shook her head. After a little more probing, I learned he was married and that the relationship ended.

I didn't approve of such relationships having been at the receiving end of Tim's affairs. Nevertheless, I voiced my sympathy the best I could, and instantly, she told me of the wonderful times they had spent together. However, all too soon, her memories choked her of words. She spent the next couple of minutes staring into space with her hand covering her mouth.

'It's clear how much you loved him,' I said.

She nodded, plaintively. 'Pete was the most wonderful kind and generous man I'd ever met. He may have been married, but it was over in every sense of the word—he and his wife slept in separate rooms. He didn't love her at all.'

Was it wrong of me to believe he may have lied? Of course, he could have spoken the truth, but my experience pointed me to an alternative explanation. Tim had enjoyed a double life, sleeping with us both. Ultimately, and despite both of us being aware of his misdemeanours, he still pleaded with me to change my mind regarding my decision to end it. It proved to be one of the better moments in the last phase of our relationship.

'I pushed him too hard,' she said, forcing me back to the moment. 'I forced him to choose between us. I was so convinced he'd pick me that I showed up at his house. I didn't know she was there.'

'His wife?'

'And his daughter. He hurried me out of the door. I didn't know what to do. I was pregnant with his child and I needed him, but he... he was furious. I'd never seen him so angry. He was normally so loving and thoughtful. I don't know what made him change. It was horrid.'

'So what happened?'

'I left. What else could I do? He'd pushed me out, literally... slammed the door in my face. I heard him telling his wife that he didn't know who I was. He said I'd made everything up. I hadn't. He loved me. We were brilliant together... soul mates.' She gasped for air. 'We made plans to move to Spain. Everything was going to be perfect. We were going to buy a bar on the beach. It was going to be beautiful... everything we'd dreamed of. We talked about it endlessly. He couldn't have lied to me, Shona. I would have known.'

'People can want things that aren't necessarily achievable. Perhaps in another life and time, he would have followed his heart.'

Her nod was slight.

'And maybe he felt tied to his daughter.'

'What about our son?' she screeched. 'He should have felt a responsibility for him too!'

Her grief was heartbreaking to witness, and as she continued to spill out her woes, I wondered if she had ever shared these thoughts with anyone before. It was a sad thought, and it would explain the bitterness and anger she often fired at the world. Not only had she lost a partner but a child also, and, to make it worse, it appeared to have happened in the most heinous of circumstances.

A thought struck me. 'Could Pete have had anything to do with your baby's disappearance?'

She said not; she appeared convinced.

'What makes you so sure?'

'I just know he didn't. He may have said some horrible things to me towards the end, but he wouldn't have meant it, and he wouldn't have done something so awful. Despite what happened, he was a good man. I'll always have good memories of him.'

I approved of her remarks.

'It was tough accepting it was over. I didn't want to let him go, but it was the mature thing to do.'

'It must have been hard, especially given your pregnancy.'

'It was, but I had a little of him, didn't I? I just never expected that to be taken from me too.'

I frowned at her comment.

'I have to find him Shona,' she said. 'Losing my baby has messed me up for years.' Her eyes misted and her face creased with anguish. 'I could cope without Pete, but not without my baby, not little Luca. Please help me find him.'

'I'm not sure I would know where to start. I don't have the facilities to track him down. And it would take more time and effort than is available to me.'

'Couldn't you put something on social media? You could make it go viral, surely?'

'I'm not internet savvy. I'm not sure where I'd start.'

'You must know someone who'd help you... Justin perhaps. He's into computers.'

I was bewildered. I thought she had been dead-set against me forming a relationship with him, yet now she was actively encouraging it. It was a bizarre turnaround.

'Of course, he'd have to promise not to tell anyone about this. I don't want this getting out. It's private business.'

'We still wouldn't have anything to go on. We know nothing about this person bar their birthdate.'

'I made some notes.'

She hurried to a drawer across the room and handed me a sheet of paper detailing the date and time of her son's birth, plus snippets of the conversation she had overheard whilst in the hospital. The first thing I noticed were the reasons for Carmen being unsuitable as a mother; then I looked at the rest. I didn't think any of it would help to track down a missing person. The only potentially useful piece of information lay in the fact that those involved in the adoption were heavily involved in the flower industry, apparently with a large business.

'How did you learn this?' I asked.

'They thought I was under sedation after the operation. It's bad enough to be told your baby is dead when he's alive, but to be told it knowing full well that you're unable to have any more babies is evil.'

I had to agree. If what she said was true, those involved must pay for their crimes.

'Why do you think it happened?' I asked.

She shrugged and looked away. It seemed a little strange that it should have happened to her, and I felt certain there must be an explanation other than her age and single status, but despite my questioning, she offered me nothing more.

'Did you challenge them,' I asked, 'and tell them what you'd heard?'

Carmen laughed. 'Do you honestly think I'd be too afraid to say anything?'

I held a blank expression. Perhaps it was a daft question.

'Yes, I did challenge them. They all claimed I was nuts, but I refused to let it go; hence my time in a mental unit.'

'That's awful.'

She nodded. 'I've done everything I could over the years to find him. I started with the police—they wouldn't listen, and I've asked endless questions to the hospital staff. No one has ever taken me seriously.'

'Do you have the name of the midwife or other medical staff that dealt with you?'

'No. I didn't think I'd need it back at the start. I firmly believed I'd be able to track him down. By the time I realised I couldn't and that I needed more information, it was too late. Apparently, the paperwork had been destroyed.'

I made a mental note.

'So I wouldn't even try it if I were you. You'll be wasting your time by visiting the hospital. Plus, I don't wish to punish anyone. I just want to meet my boy before it's too late.'

I stared at the notes she had made, my mind a myriad of thoughts and emotions. The evidence she presented was convincing, yet I couldn't help but believe it was all a bit far-fetched. If I were to believe her claim, then I needed a firm motive; I didn't buy into the fact someone had taken her baby because of her being unmarried and only sixteen, not in nineteen-nineties Britain.

'I would have done this myself, but I don't have a computer, and if I'm honest, I wouldn't know where to start. Believe it or not, I've never accessed the internet, not once and not even via my phone. It just doesn't interest me.'

'This would be a reason to learn.'

'Not in my state. I don't have the energy. I'd have to go to a class, and even if I did, I doubt any are starting during the summer months. I can't afford to wait until September. I might be six feet under by then.'

She had a point. However, I wasn't too keen on taking this on either. Nevertheless, it was clearly important to her as during the last half an hour I had seen an enthusiasm I had not witnessed before. Even so, she was asking a lot of me.

'I doubt it would take you long,' she said. 'Not if you get a bit of help from Justin.'

I wanted to tell her that Justin was unlikely to help me since I had taken her advice and kept my distance, but I bit my tongue. Speaking of my personal life was not something I wanted to do, not in any sense of the word.

'Please say you will help me,' she pleaded. 'I need this, and it would give me a buzz like no other. I might not have long, and seeing my boy would mean the world to me.'

'He's likely to be difficult if not impossible to track down.'

'I realise that, but surely it's worth a try. And who knows what pleasures the internet will bring me? I've heard many stories of similar things happening. Why shouldn't I be lucky too?'

I didn't want to quash her enthusiasm since it was lovely to witness, but I feared a negative outcome and the devastation it may have on her. However, her persistence was wearing, and ultimately and somewhat reluctantly, I agreed to put an advert on social media.

'Before you get ahead of yourself, I would like to rule out your baby's death. The hospital might be able to locate his grave if it exists.'

'He didn't die,' she said smugly.

'That may be so, but I'd still like to check.'

'Fine, but you'll be wasting your time. Luca is alive, I know it.'

# Chapter 9

Upon my arrival home, my head continued to spin with the conversation I'd had with Carmen and I struggled to believe her theory that her son was alive. If she had created as much fuss as she claimed then why had the police ignored her? It was as though she was implying that there was a conspiracy against her, and it caused me to doubt my involvement, more so than I had done already.

I entered my house via the kitchen, had a brief conversation with Ebony who was dishing up a meal for herself but had left enough for me, and started upstairs to change. Exhausted, I wondered if I had the energy to eat. All I wanted to do was flop in front of the television with a drink and let the day's tension slip away. Nonetheless, since Ebony had been thoughtful enough to make me a meal, I placed the food on a plate and plonked myself at the kitchen table.

I was enjoying the peace away from the noise of the television and Ebony's exuberance when Marie broke me from my thoughts. She was surprised to see me and asked me why I wasn't eating with them in the living room.

'I'm tired, that's all.' I turned my head to the sound of breaking laughter. 'And it's a bit noisy in there.'

'They're great, aren't they?' She paused. 'It's been ages since the four of us have been home at the same time. Are you sure you won't join us?'

'I might in a bit.'

She started away. 'Oh, and Justin's asked about you and told me to pass on his mobile number. It's in my bag—remind me to get it out later.'

'There's no rush.'

'Are you going to call him?'

I stilled at the question. As nice as he appeared, I didn't feel ready to involve myself in a relationship. On the other hand, if I was going to help Carmen in her quest to find her son, I was going to need his help. 'I haven't decided.'

'Coward,' she said and grinned. 'I'll put it on the memo board for when you change your mind.'

She disappeared from the kitchen, and the instant she entered the living room, Kelly drew her into their conversation about a woman on the television. They were discussing whether her face was natural or if she had undergone surgery; Kelly was certain she'd had a facelift; Ebony believed not.

'It's the way she is,' Ebony cried out. 'She's naturally ugly. She can't help it.'

Laughter broke out.

'I disagree,' Kelly said. 'Her skin's pinched at her eyes. There's no doubt she's had help.'

'Maybe she has a bit of Chinese in her bloodline.'

The banter continued, until eventually, they called me into the room. Unable to resist, and since I had finished my meal, I sauntered inside.

'Has the woman being interviewed had a facelift, yes or no?' Ebony asked.

I waited for her to appear on the screen, at which point I almost gasped. Her expression appeared to be set in concrete and she had no ability to smile. 'Facelift, definitely.'

'See,' Kelly cried. 'You're out-voted Ebs.'

Ebony grinned and continued to make comments about the poor woman on the interviewer's sofa. It made me wonder if she had contradicted Kelly to create a lively banter. It was the type of thing she did, a way of instigating an animated conversation.

I settled into a seat, and rather than feeling irritated by the noise, I found it an effective way of clearing my mind of my day and of Carmen's request. Consequently, I managed to eliminate the repetitive and confusing drone from my head, and I felt relaxed rather than heavy and aching. I even found my thoughts turning to a potential relationship with Justin and I privately willed Marie to retrieve his number from her handbag.

She didn't receive my psychic message, and so I sat in silence, feigning interest in television and thinking about Justin's firm torso, glistening eyes, and beautiful smile. I even imagined the sound of his voice and his hypnotic mellow tone and remembered his kindness and understanding words when we spoke of the dispute I'd had with my mother.

He was extremely empathic for a man, probably due to his interest in psychology, and he displayed a high level of emotional intelligence. He was definitely the type of man I could fall in love with, and different to Tim who had never recognised my feelings for what they were and always disregarded me or misinterpreted the point I was trying to make.

Why I had loved him once was beyond my understanding. Frequently, he made me feel stupid and petty. He had criticised my point of view and told me with a certain amount of regularity that I was being too emotional and girly. I doubted that Justin would act similarly; he was far too compassionate for such negative behaviour.

Suddenly, I felt I was being watched and jerked my head to look at the girls. Simultaneously, they burst into laughter. I did not understand the joke.

'You were drooling,' Ebony said.

My gaze flashed between them; all eyes were bright, all enjoying the fun.

'And you claim Justin doesn't interest you!' Marie said.

'I wasn't thinking about him,' I said uneasily.

'You so were!' she screeched. 'It was in your eyes!'

'Who is this hottie?' Kelly asked.

'You've not seen him?' Ebony said. 'Boy, you're in for a treat. He's a Sam Heughan look-alike.'

Her gaze was blank.

'From the Highlander series. You know, shoulder-length hair, neat beard, fit body...'

'I don't know who you mean. I've never watched it.'

'Then do yourself a favour. Check him out online.'

'Or go into the Esterbeech Healthcare Centre,' Marie said. 'If anything, I'd say he's better looking.' She shot me a glance. 'And he's into Shona, only she's not interested... or so she says.'

I wriggled with unease and willed the conversation onto something else, but they refused to desist and continued to talk about Justin and my reaction to him as though I wasn't there. It was embarrassing, to say the least, and whilst I tried to conceal my interest, the more I said, the bigger the hole I felt I was digging. In the end, my mobile phone saved me, and I leapt to my feet and progressed towards the hallway to my handbag.

'It'll be him,' Marie said.

I stopped mid-step and stared. Had she given him my number? Dared I believe?

My heart was pounding by the time I reached my handbag, and my mind full of confusing thoughts. Whilst I had to admit I was interested in seeing him again, I wasn't sure I had the strength to take the risk. Hurriedly, I attempted to formulate an answer to his imagined questions, but I couldn't think quickly enough, and picked up my phone and stared at the screen.

As expected, the number calling me was unfamiliar. I prayed it was Justin.

Expectant yet nervous, I answered in a feeble voice.

'Is that Shona Lowe?' A strong female voice said.

I jerked with surprise. 'It is.'

'Hello Shona, it's Bonnie Aintree, your grandmother.'

# Chapter 10

My grandmother's house was set in one of the better parts of the city and in an area had visited on a couple of occasions in the past during my community training. Because of such knowledge, I had thoughts on the type of person Bonnie Aintree would be and imagined her to be wealthy and ostentatious, fastidious in her habits, and stern and intimidating. I had no reason to assume she would be a warm person who would be grateful to meet me. In fact, she had displayed no friendliness at all over the phone, and got straight to the point, gave me her address and told me when I should visit. Since it fitted in with my work schedule, I agreed and ended the call.

Now, as I closed in on her house, I wish we had shared even just a short conversation to aid my expectations. If she was anything like my mother, I may ruin a potentially good relationship by speaking out about my father. However, whilst it was a concern, the more I thought about it, the less important it seemed. Building a relationship with my grandmother had become my priority.

With my stomach churning with anxiety and my head spinning with images of our reunion, I drove the final mile to her house, passing double and triple fronted houses with impressive features such as bay windows, porches, and lighting. The front gardens were extensive and strikingly maintained, and any cars visible on the private driveways were new and top of the range.

I slowed down my vehicle, which seemed ridiculously out of place in such an area, and scanned the houses for the numbers. The first few appeared absent from my view then I saw number sixteen on my left and increased my speed. A short distance further on, I reached my destination, number thirty-seven Barnet Close, and hesitated at the end of the driveway. After a few seconds contemplating where to park, I turned inside and parked the car in the driveway.

Movement at the window caught my eye. Inside, I saw a balding man wearing a short-sleeved shirt and dark pants. I knew it wasn't my grandfather since he had died when I was a child, so I assumed he was her new husband or partner. He was in the right age group, the mid to late seventies, and he had a pleasant look about him.

Moving awkwardly, I strode to the door hidden within a porch and stared at the bell. Pressing it seemed a little pointless in the circumstances, and instead, I waited for his arrival. Thirty seconds or so later, just at the point I was considering if I should announce my arrival, the door opened.

My grandmother was a spritely woman with a slender physique; her hair was curly, light ginger and neatly styled, and she was dressed in loose-fitting white pants and a blue/grey blouse. She wasn't anything like the woman I had envisaged and wore no jewellery aside from a wedding ring, and no makeup. Had I not been aware of her age, which was seventy-seven, I would have placed her in the early sixties age range.

She was warm, welcoming and the opposite from how she had appeared on the phone, and told me how grateful she was that I'd made contact. Then she introduced me to Jerry, her partner of eight years, before insisting I called her Bonnie. I agreed it was silly to reference her grandma or something similar since she hadn't assumed that role for twenty years. Smiling at my reply, she guided me into the lounge where I absorbed my surroundings.

It was a large setting, simply decorated in white and pale yellow. Within a marble fireplace was a wood-burning stove, and just to one side was a large screen television. There were two sofas set at a ninety angle, and in between was a nest of tables. There was nothing ostentatious about the place and it reflected her personality, or so I believed.

My thoughts reminded me of the conversation I'd had with my mother. She hadn't spoken well of Bonnie and had said she had spent her time looking for a rich man rather spending time with her. Given the gratitude my grandmother repeatedly displayed regarding my contact, it seemed a bizarre comment to make.

I wondered, albeit briefly, if the lack of contact was the reason behind their disagreement. I may have pondered it further but I didn't have the chance, as whilst Bonnie disappeared to provide me with refreshments, which included a tea and a selection of homemade cakes, Jerry asked me about my journey to their house. I told him how I was familiar with the area and then Bonnie reappeared. She asked me about my life.

I told her of my occupation, and added that I was single and lived with three girlfriends in a Victorian townhouse. She asked me about my work, which I readily shared, and time quickly passed.

It was wonderful to share this time with a relative I'd known little about, and I regretted not making contact sooner. To my detriment, I had spent too much time in the past listening to my mother and believed that Bonnie was a harsh unforgiving woman with little compassion and love for the world. Yet she was nothing like that description, and my irritation towards my mother grew.

I wondered what she would think if she knew where I was. Would she be furious and demand I cut my grandmother off, or would she be pleased and consider joining me? It was also possible that they were in regular contact, although I suspected if that were true then I would have heard about it. Or was such an opinion simplistic and naïve in the circumstances?

'I'm so glad to see you again,' Bonnie said for at least the fourth time. 'If I'd known how to find you I would have made contact myself. It's been far too long.'

'For me too. Do you ever see my mother?'

She stiffened and looked at her lap and after a few moments gathered her composure to speak. 'We've not spoken for eighteen years at least... probably longer. When I last tried to call her, someone else answered... a man. He told me she'd moved away and said that he had no contact details.'

'That's so sad.'

She nodded. 'I never wanted it to happen—nor did I wish my dispute with my daughter to come between you and me. I asked many times for permission to see you, but she wouldn't allow it.'

'I didn't know.'

'No, well, that doesn't surprise me. Did you get the birthday gifts I sent you?'

I shook my head.

'I thought not.' She paused and sipped her drink. 'I'm sorry all this happened. Judy is a stubborn woman when she wants to be. I found it difficult getting through to her.'

Her comment saddened me, stilling my reply.

'I hope she won't come between us again.'

'It won't.' I knotted my arms and wriggled in my seat. I was desperate to know what had happened between the two of them, and it seemed an opportune moment to ask, but my good manners blocked my voice. It wasn't my business, not really.

'How has she described me to you?' Bonnie asked.

'She hasn't. She's said little over the years. When I was about ten years old—or maybe a little older—if I ever asked about you, she'd shoot me down. Over time, I became terrified of saying anything. And as you said, she's stubborn. If I wanted something she disapproved of, she'd not give in.'

'Is she still the same?'

I considered the argument we'd had over my father and nodded my head. 'Unfortunately, she is.'

'You don't seem much like her,' she said. 'Is that correct?'

I considered her comment and hesitated to reply. 'We're both in similar professions, so we must have some similarities but I do agree with you, there are some things we dissimilar with.'

'Do you get on?'

'Most of the time. I reckon she's less moral than I am. She tells me I'm too conscientious, and not just as far as work is concerned, but with other things too.'

Bonnie smiled, encouraging me on.

'If I'm given a new patient, one I don't have time for, I won't complain. I'll take them on regardless.' I studied her seemingly interested face. 'And there are other things Mum disapproves of too. I don't speed in the car—only rarely and by accident—and I have to pay bills on time. Both are things that bug her. She says there are times when a little extra speed is acceptable, and as far as the bills are concerned, I should always wait for a reminder.' I cast a shy glance. 'I don't like to do anything that's immoral or illegal, or simply wrong.'

'That's wonderful.'

'It's just the way I am. I don't try to be that way.'

'Judy would always push the boundaries. When she was employed in her first nursing job, she was forever getting into trouble for bad timekeeping. She told me that the start time was always sooner than the time the management expected anyone to appear. She said they did it to give you leeway.'

My jaw dropped.

'She was a handful, for sure.'

'Did she ever get sacked?'

'No, she always managed to sweet talk her way out of it. I don't know how—my daughter has never been smooth with words—but hey, what do I know? I'm just her mother.'

There was a definite bitterness in her tone, and it caused my sympathy to rise. I liked her a lot, and I was already starting to sense that whatever had come between them was my mother's fault.

'I used to say to her that one day her attitude would get her into deep trouble,' she continued. 'She wouldn't listen to me. My daughter always knew best.'

I sensed, from the tone of her voice, that my grandmother believed she had been proven right, yet as far as I was aware, my mother had not suffered any kind of deep trouble. Searching for a cause that didn't put my mother in a bad light, I concluded it was possible that my mother may have rebelled whilst her company, but not in private.

Bonnie drew me from my thoughts. 'She said she liked the adventure of doing something a bit daring. She even described me as being too moral once.'

I chuckled at the similarity. 'Perhaps I remind her of you.'

'Perhaps you do.'

I sipped my drink and nibbled another piece of cake. I wasn't normally an eater of too many sugary foods, but they were too good to pass. It also allowed me a little thinking time and gave me a moment to consider whether I should ask her about my father. Whilst I knew we would remain in touch and that there would be many more opportunities to do it later, I wanted to do it now. Grasping at a surge of courage that suddenly overwhelmed me, I asked her what she thought of him.

Her face stilled and an uncomfortable silence filled the air. I knew instantly that I had said the wrong thing, but I couldn't retract my comment, nor did I want to. Instead, I watched as she gathered the dirty mugs, the teapot and milk onto a tray, and waited for her reply.

'He was a lovely man,' she said in a subdued tone, 'I would have expected Judy's rebellious streak to dominate her choices and half-expected her to have chosen someone without a future or a moral foundation. But she didn't—at least that's how it had seemed. She chose Jimmy. We got along immediately.'

'Mum said he had a heart attack. I've...' I gulped and folded my arms. 'I've only just found out that he took his life.'

She did not respond, and lifted the tray and strode to the door.

'She won't tell me anything about it.'

'No, well, that doesn't surprise me at all.' She paused and spun around. 'Some things are best forgotten Shona.'

Then she left the room.

Was that an indication she wasn't going to divulge anything more? If it was, I wasn't certain I wanted to persist with my questions. Alienating my grandmother on our first meeting wasn't my intention, not since we had been getting along as well as we had. But neither could I pass it by. If both my mother and grandmother were unwilling to talk about my father then something terrible must have happened. It was a thought that drained my extremities of blood.

Had my mother pushed my father off the cliff in Warwickshire?

It certainly would explain my grandmother's silence. Bonnie wasn't going to share her secret if the truth could potentially cause my mother's imprisonment. Plus, it explained why she said she had always expected her to get into trouble one day. I hadn't imagined the tone in her voice that said 'I told you so'. It had actually been there, loud and clear.

 Bonnie entered the room. Her face was a picture of anxiety reflecting my own. Instinctively, I wanted to apologise and blurted out the start of my speech, but she started speaking too and it caused our voices to still.

'You first,' she said.

'I just wanted to say I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. That wasn't my intention. I only wanted to know more about him.' I played with my fingers. 'It was a shock to hear of his suicide.'

'It must have been, and I do understand your need for answers, but I'm not the one to tell you what you want to know. You may have gathered it was the reason for your mother and me falling out all those years ago. If she learns I've been speaking to you...'

I filled in the dots. She was hoping for a chance to rebuild their relationship, and I would like that too. It would be good for us all. 'I understand.'

'Do you? I don't want you thinking I'm fobbing you off like your mother does.' She stopped and stared. 'I take it, that's what she's done.'

I nodded. 'She said Dad had an affair, but that was all. When I questioned her about it, she refused to speak and stormed away.'

Her face was inexpressive, giving nothing away.

'I am old enough to be able to deal with whatever happened.'

'I know you are, and if it was just down to me, I'd tell you everything, but things happened, serious things that you don't know about, and if they get out there could be wider implications.'

'For Mum?'

Her nod was slight. 'Please don't ask me any more. I do believe the truth should come from Judy.' She paused, assessing my expression. 'I would like to speak to her again. Could I have her details?'

'Of course.' I pulled out my notebook from my bag, scribbled down her contact details, and handed it across. 'One more thing, and then I won't ask anything more. Was my mother with my father on the day he jumped off the cliff?'

'No, he'd gone away with friends for a few days. Why would you think that?'

Her reply came with a certain amount of certainty, causing my surprise. Only minutes earlier, I had been convinced that my parents had been arguing prior to the incident, yet it hadn't been the case. So, what had happened, and why the secrecy?

She caught my wandering gaze.

'It was definitely suicide... and unassisted,' she said.

'Was it to do with his affair?'

She did not reply. I got the impression from her unsettled behaviour and frequent glances at the clock that she was ready for me to leave, and since I didn't want to outstay my welcome, I closed my handbag and rose to my feet. As I walked to the door, a myriad of thoughts relating to my nightmares cluttered my mind. I wondered if the woman who had been screaming abuse at him had been his lover rather than a bystander out to cause him trouble, and so flung her a concerned glance.

She did not react.

'I'm sorry to have brought this up,' I said and paused. 'All my life I've suffered from nightmares—I keep seeing a woman in a playground screaming at him and protecting her child. It's bothered me for years.'

'I'm sorry to hear that.'

'I can deal with the truth,' I said firmly. Thoughts relating to him being a possible paedophile flashed into my head. 'At least I think I can. I'm sorry to ask this, and I know I said I wouldn't say anything more, but...'

'Just ask,' she said gently.

'Did he hurt children?'

She held a stern gaze, and after what felt like an inordinate amount of time, she told me that my father was a good man who had made a stupid mistake. The fact that she refused to admit it or deny it caused my unease to mount.

'Please don't question me further, not just yet,' she continued. 'The rest has to come from Judy. I'll do my best to speak to her again, but I won't be able to bring this up during our first meeting. I hope you realise that.'

'I do and thank you. I'll put in a good word for you.'

Her expression softened. 'You're a lovely young woman, Shona. Thank you for visiting. I hope you'll come again soon.'

After a few more moments spent making promises, and having said goodbye to Jerry, I left with mixed emotions. I was elated to have made contact with my grandmother, but my stomach was churning with distress at the secrets relating to my father. Something terrible had gone on, and whilst I hadn't learned anything more, it seemed increasingly likely to have involved children.

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# Stolen By Jackdaws

# Chapter 1

With a deep-rooted irritation towards my sister temporarily forgotten, I listened to my father speaking to his guests at his thirtieth wedding anniversary celebration meal and glowed with pride. He was praising my mother and sharing anecdotes relating to the years they had spent together. It was a wonderful moment, and as my eyes drifted to the guests, I glanced at the empty space where Lisa should have been sitting. Unwilling to allow her selfishness to ruin my day, I forced my attention back to my father and the last bit of his speech.

Moments later, my elder brother toasted them both and started three cheers.

'Hip hip,' he said.

The replies of hooray came, followed by noisy chatter, movement, and personal congratulations. It was nothing less than they deserved. I may be biased, but they were lovely people and worthy of this joyous occasion. They were the perfect couple—happy and in love with few grievances and a lifetime of blissful moments. I hoped that one day I would be so lucky.

As I feigned interest in the surrounding conversation, I pondered my single status, something that I tolerated although never fully enjoyed. I would love to meet that special man and be part of an unbreakable bond similar to what my parents had. I was twenty-seven years old and not in a relationship, and I feared it would never happen for me.

Given I was a nurse and saw how health issues could ruin the best-laid plans, I was only too aware that we didn't always get what we wanted. And if I needed another example, I need look no further than my sister. Her last-minute decision not to show at our parents' celebration do must have caused them immense disappointment. It was a big occasion and they were right to want to share it with their family and closest friends and in particular their children.

Morose and tetchy, I vacated my seat at the table and went to the bar. As I waited to be served, I chatted to a couple of my parents' friends whom I'd got to know over the course of the evening, and we commented on the evening thus far. I dreaded them asking me where Lisa was, as I knew I would have to defend her plans. To my gratitude, the question didn't arrive and we parted company.

With a drink in my hand, I turned around and searched for my father to compliment him on his speech. I had just caught sight of his slender physique, full head of grey hair and tanned skin when someone bellowed my name.

'Marie, hold up!'

I spun around and glanced at the throng. Cynthia, my younger cousin, was weaving through the guests with an excited look on her face. I waited for her to reach my side.

'Have you heard about Lisa? I can't believe it! How lucky is she?'

I assumed she was talking about her date with a professional footballer, Benjamin Dashwood, her reason for her being absent for this special occasion. Managing my raging emotions, I voiced vague enthusiasm.

'Have you met him yet? Come on... tell all!'

'The first I heard about it was a couple of hours ago... like everyone else.'

In truth, I had known she had been trying to get the attention of one of the football players for the best part of the last year and had been going to their drinking haunts with a friend with regularity. I also learned from someone else that the team often hired a private suite and that the keenest of groupies danced half-naked on the dance floor to gain attention. Was that what Lisa had been doing? I knew she had been wearing revealing attire since she'd admitted to leaving what she described as her nuns clothes at her friend's house, but she'd never admitted to anything else. I dreaded to think what my younger sister considered necessary to achieve her goal.

'Why aren't you excited?' Cynthia asked. 'This is monumental!'

'I am excited,' I said dryly. 'Inside.'

She pulled a face. 'Have you seen how gorgeous he is? I can't believe she's actually going out with him... on a date. I've just called her but she's not answering her phone.' She plucked it from her bag and glanced at the screen. 'Do you think they're at it? Oh my God! Imagine him naked! I hear he's hot, hot, hot!' Grinning, she wafted her hand across her face.

Feigning excitement, I joined in with her fun and agreed that she was a lucky woman. However, privately, I wasn't sure. I wasn't certain Lisa was going out with Benjamin for the right reasons. Given all I'd learned over the preceding months, I was of the distinct impression she was after something long term. Wouldn't he be after the sex only? It was destined to end in disaster, and as her sister, I would be the one to soothe away her tears.

'I'm going to try ringing her again,' she said and tapped on the screen of her phone. 'The wait is killing me.'

'I'll leave you to it,' I said and turned around.

'Let me know if she calls you.'

I said I would and wandered through the gathering groups and sat at a table with my uncle's family. I tried to join in, but my mind wasn't on the conversation. Lisa's adventures were affecting me more greatly than they should have done. Not only did I consider her without morals, I was also angry with her for choosing this evening to go on a date. Couldn't she have waited one more day? Under no circumstances should she have chosen a man over family, and especially not tonight. Her actions had been selfish and without justification.

Minutes later, my father laid his hands around my shoulders, kissed the top of my dark brown hair, and spoke endearingly about me to those around. My uncle made a quip and followed his eldest son to the bar, leaving a gap between us and my auntie and grandmother. Since they became involved in their own conversation, my father asked me if I was having a good time.

'Of course,' I said. 'Your speech was lovely, Dad. Did Mum like it?'

'I think so.' He perched beside me. 'I have it easy. She's easy to please.'

I smiled. She was. She had a calm personality and a giving nature, rather like my father. I was blessed to have two wonderful parents.

'Tell me to butt out if you wish,' he said, grasping my hand. 'But you don't look your usual happy self.'

I tensed. The last thing I wanted to do was to display my woes on my parents' special day. So, I apologised profusely and said I was good.'

'If something's bothering you, I'd like to know.'

'Nothing's bothering me.'

'Is everything going all right at work?'

My nursing duties were primarily at Esterbeech Healthcare Centre, and whilst there were times I was overworked, I didn't have it as hard as many and worked a thirty-seven hour week. On the downside, I was finding my work a little repetitive and dull.

Or perhaps such feelings were down to my low mood. I knew I was in a rut with little in my life satisfying me, and I didn't know what I could do to get out of it. My friends' lives were improving, yet I remained at a standstill. In particular, my closest friend, Shona, had recently moved out of our shared house to live with her boyfriend, and even though I still had two other housemates, Ebony and Kelly, it wasn't the same without her and I felt lost and alone.

'Talk to me princess,' Dad said.

'Honestly, everything's fine. I'm just tired.'

'I hope you're not letting your sister's absence bother you.'

My face tensed.

'Because you shouldn't,' he continued quickly. 'Of course, we're disappointed she's not here, but being angry or stressed won't do any of us any favours at all.'

'She's being selfish.'

'Maybe she is, but she's young too... and impetuous. She needs to be allowed to grow in her own time.'

'She's twenty-one... not fifteen! She should know better! I wouldn't have acted that way at eighteen, let alone at her age.'

'That's because you're different personalities, and I wouldn't wish it any other way.'

At that point, my uncle and cousin returned with their drinks, and my father rose to his feet. After they shared a brief exchange, he leant towards me and in a whisper made me promise not to let Lisa affect me. I said she wouldn't, and with that, he smiled and walked away.

His comment affected me and made me question why I was dealing with the situation as harshly as I was. The only reason I could conclude was that I was jealous, although that seemed a little far-fetched since Benjamin's type—brash, conceited and shallow—was not for me. I would never wish to date someone like that. I wanted someone quiet and unassuming, deep and caring. I wanted someone who wanted to be with me for my personality rather than my body or for whatever other assets I may display.

What was wrong with me? Could I be depressed? I'd never considered myself a sufferer. However, when I reflected on my negative thoughts, and not just those directed at my sister, but at others whose lives seemed to be running a perfect course, it seemed a possibility. I wanted a little happiness in my life too. Was that too much to ask?

Trying to pull myself out of my gloom, I considered the positives in my life. I had a job, a place to live, a wonderful family, and my health. I wasn't in debt and I wasn't the victim of a crime. Life could be considerably worse. I only needed to open a newspaper if I needed proof of the terrible things I could have to endure. Boredom wasn't a good enough reason to be feeling low.

My private pep talk seemed to help as I chatted with an assortment of people, from my two brothers, one of whom had travelled from the United States to be at the event, to people close to my parents that I either didn't know or didn't know particularly well. However, deep in my gut, my gloomy mood remained, and every so often, something triggered it whether it was due to someone making an innocent remark, or something as insignificant as a look of love passing between two people. Nonetheless, I remained in control of my emotions and managed to display a happy confident demeanour for the remainder of the evening.

My controlled façade smashed into smithereens at the sight of my sister chattering to an enraptured crowd near the entrance of our private suite, undoubtedly sharing details of her night out. I stormed towards her, arriving as she finished her speech, and yanked her arm and dragged her to a quiet spot in the room.

'So you've arrived then?'

'Looks like it,' she said and grinned. 'What's got your knickers in a knot?'

'Tonight was a special night for Mum and Dad. Couldn't you have put them first for once in your life? They've been planning this for the best part of the last year.' I shook my head. 'I can't believe how selfish you are!'

'I'm here now, aren't I? And they didn't mind. Mum was fine with it. She told me earlier.'

'Do you honestly think that's true? She was not fine, far from it. She was gutted.'

A thoughtful look landed on her face. At first, it seemed as though she was reluctant to continue, and then she told me that she doubted my comment to be true and used experiences to aid her argument. She also told me that Mum had been a little annoyed initially, but she hadn't let it bother her for long. Since it fit with her character, I was inclined to agree, but I wasn't going to admit it.

'Even so,' I said firmly, 'it's no way to treat them. Where's your respect? It wasn't as if you had to see Benjamin tonight. You could have gone out with him tomorrow.'

'I was hardly going to turn him down, now was I? Do you believe that I would have had another chance had I done so? Playing hard to get was not on my agenda. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity and I took it.'

I cast a disapproving stare.

Lisa grinned. 'Are we jealous?'

'Don't be ridiculous. I hardly think—'

She cut me off. 'Don't start Marie. You're not my mother! I'll do whatever I want when I want and I don't have to answer to you. And it was just the one night I missed. You make it sound like I'd disappeared from their lives for years.'

Frowning, I wrapped my arms around my middle. 'You just don't get it, do you?'

'Don't treat me like I'm stupid,' she said and held a harsh stare. 'Of course, I get it! I love them just as much as you do, but I have a life to fit in too. Unlike you, might I add.'

I tensed. It was a cutting blow. She was right and she knew it, and stared at me with a smug expression. It was more than I could tolerate, and without stopping to think, I turned the conversation back to her date with her football star and told her that I wouldn't want a life driven by a desperate need for sex.

Lisa's jaw dropped and a pained look landed on her face.

Overjoyed, I continued my rant. 'And do you honestly think he's interested in someone like you. He wanted a good time, a floozy hanging from his arm. As soon as he gets what he wants, he'll be off like a shot. In fact, it's probably already over. That's why you're here now, isn't it?'

'You bitch!' she hissed. 'Don't you dare assume you know anything about Ben because you don't! And for the record, I'm not a floozy or a slag. We never—'

Our father approached from Lisa's rear, stopping her mid-stream. 'Girls, not now!' he hissed and glanced at the nosy onlookers at our rear.

Lisa's face softened. 'Sorry Daddy,' she said in a sweet voice. 'Marie was being nasty. I couldn't help it.'

My father shot me a disappointed glance.

'I came as quickly as I could. I hope you're not cross.'

'Disappointed pumpkin, that's all.' He wrapped his arm around her back and kissed her cheek. 'I understand tonight was important to you.'

Lisa twisted her neck and passed me a smug expression. It was intolerable. Mumbling under my breath, unable to believe what I was hearing, I started away.

Dad grabbed my arm. 'I think you should go home.'

I was stunned. 'What have I done?'

'I think you need to cool off.'

I gawped stock-still. Was I not the one who had been with them all evening? I could have gone out with some hot bloke if I'd have chosen to, but I hadn't. I'd put family first and sacrificed the rest. Yet for some reason, my actions had put me out of favour. Infuriated, I grabbed my coat and bag, and without saying another word, I hurried home.

I'd had an awful night's sleep; I'd failed to get comfortable and couldn't get the constant noise from my head, all of which involved my disputes with my family. By the time morning arrived, I was both grateful the night was over and furious with my inability to sleep. I wasn't good company without six hours; I was snappy and lethargic and had no desire to use my time productively.

At least it was Sunday, my day off. I could mope around all day without care or responsibility.

On the other hand, maybe it would have been better if I'd been working. At least then, I wouldn't have all day to ponder all that was wrong with my life.

Having drifted in and out of a shallow sleep for the next couple of hours, I decided it was time to get up, and donned a tee shirt, leggings and flip-flops. I couldn't be bothered to wash. What was the point, really? So what if I was smelly? I wasn't going out anywhere, and I doubted Ebony and Kelly would get close enough to notice. They might even be working. I didn't know of their plans and I didn't care.

In fact, I did care. I would prefer to be alone then I would be able to wallow in self-pity in peace.

Regrettably, my wish wasn't granted, and upon my arrival downstairs, I noticed Kelly in the lounge. She was as perky and lively as ever and shared the more interesting details of her night shift at the hospital, telling me about a woman who'd slept-walked into the men's ward and started to sing.

Unfortunately, I wasn't in the mood for her bright and breezy manner and didn't encourage her to continue. Not that it mattered. Kelly was oblivious to my taciturn mood and chatted away as though her life was all that mattered in the world.

'Enough!' I snapped. 'I don't want to hear it!'

Her expression dropped. 'Sorry.'

I exhaled a taut breath. 'No, I'm sorry. I've had a crappy night and had no sleep whatsoever. Forgive me.'

'You'd never manage the night shift. I'm fine on a couple of hours.'

'You're lucky.'

'Maybe. So, what's bugging you?'

I wasn't in the mood to speak of it and avoided her question with a vague comment. I also wasn't certain if Lisa bothered me or if my mood was the result of my own rotten life. I wanted to believe it was Lisa, but even to me, such an idea seemed absurd.

Was it wrong to want more from life than what I had? I led a monotonous existence and didn't go on expensive holidays, to shows or concerts. In fact, I did so little that I could describe as exciting or fulfilling, unlike Lisa who sought opportunities and achieved her goals with regularity. Even so, it didn't give me a right to feel depressed. My life was of my own making, as was hers.

'What you need is a man in your life,' Kelly said.

I shot her a pained stare. 'Don't you start!'

She passed me a perplexed look.

'I had an argument with my sister about men last night.'

'Oh, right.'

She paused, urging me to continue. Instead, I sipped my coffee and feigned interest in the television programme.

'You might not agree with me,' she said, 'but it would do you good to get out. Perhaps we should have a girls night out and see what fun we can come up with.'

'I shouldn't bother. I've too much on at the moment.'

She passed a sympathetic smile. 'You don't seem to have had many boyfriends. Have you ever fallen for anyone?'

'I've had a few relationships. They've been okay but nothing to write home about.'

'So you've not been in love?'

A curious mix of fuzzy warmth and deep pain filled my insides. 'There has been one man, a very special man, but the timing was bad. He'd-'

My phone sounded. I jolted and reached into my pocket. 'Hang on a second.'

'Is it your sister?'

'It might be.'

I wasn't sure if I wanted to speak to her or not, and clicked on the screen, my mind a haze of confusion and my heart a curious mix of emotions. However, it wasn't Lisa—the number was unknown—and I was relieved. I decided to answer.

'Hello, Marie Crouch speaking.'

'It's Lance Tratton... long time no see.'

I flopped back on the sofa, my jaw loose and my pulse quickening. It was my heart's desire, the man I'd just been thinking about. Dumbstruck, I stared at Kelly, mouthed to her that it was him, which I'm sure was undecipherable, and in a split-second reflected upon our time together, remembering his interesting and witty personality and attentive manner.

'Are you still there?' he asked.

'Yes... sorry. I'm just in shock. I was just thinking about you and... never mind. It's great to hear from you. How are you?'

He paused before continuing. 'I need a favour and was hoping you'd come over to see me at my aunt's place... or is that too much to ask?'

'No, of course it's not. I can't believe you're still in the same place! I thought you were moving away.'

'I did, for a while—long story. As I said, I have a massive favour to ask of you and I'd like to do it in person.'

'Sure, I'll do what I can. Name the day and time and I'll be there.'

The instant I spoke, I regretted displaying my obvious excitement, but it was too late to retract it and I didn't actually want to. I was unbelievably excited to hear Lance's voice again and I didn't care if he knew.

'Great,' he said in a happy tone. 'So how about tomorrow? Or is that too soon?'

'That's fine. I finish work at five, so I could be there at seven.'

'Could I persuade you to come earlier? I'll provide you with dinner if that helps.'

'That would be great, Lance. I'll see you at six.'

'Thanks,' he said.

'No thank you.'

'Oh, and Marie.'

I waited for him to continue.

'I look forward to seeing your happy face.'

# Chapter 2

Clutching my phone in my hand, I gawped at Kelly, unable to believe what had just happened. Once upon a time, I had loved Lance with all my heart, but sadly, the timing of our relationship was wrong, at least as far as he was concerned, and we parted company. Consequently, my heart shattered into millions of pieces and I struggled to recover. It was probably the reason I'd had no luck in the relationship department ever since, as no one came close to matching what he had offered. I didn't want to get ahead of myself, but surely, his call would lead to positive things.

'And who was that?' Kelly asked, a smile forming on her face.

'That's the man I was telling you about, Lance Tratton.'

'The one that stole your heart.'

'That's right. He wants to see me.' I studied her attentive expression. 'I can't believe it. It's been years since we split, why now?'

She did not respond.

'I'm trying not to get ahead of myself, but...' I hesitated to continue as flashing images of the love we had shared, the laughter, endless conversations, and days' out filled my thoughts. 'We used to be incredibly happy.'

'You're shaking.'

I glanced at my hand. It was ridiculous. Lance hadn't voiced his undying love for me. He hadn't even asked me for a date. He had said he wanted a favour, and from his tone, it was urgent. I tried to think what he might be after, but I was far too excited for clear thinking and passed it by as irrelevant.

'What else did he say?' she asked.

'Not much except he's living with his aunt across the city. That surprised me. When we split, he had plans to move away—to the coast, I think. He wanted to make a fresh start.'

'So he's not married.'

A grin spread across my face. 'You're absolutely right! He can't be, can he?'

'Unless, of course, he's been chucked out! How old is he?'

'Twenty-eight.' My body tensed and I passed her a worried glance. 'He does seem to be a bit old to be living with his family.'

'Where are his parents?'

'They used to live in a place on the outskirts of Manchester. He was close to them, but from what I gathered, he wanted to get out of the area... bad memories relating to his ex.'

'So he moved here?'

'That's right. He'd had a major bust-up with his girlfriend and her family. It was one of the issues that had come between us—mainly because he refused to tell me what had happened.'

'Ouch.'

'He said it was too painful to talk about, which was fair enough, but we were meant to be in love and it felt like he didn't trust me.' My eyes drifted. My hands knotted. 'Anyhow, we managed to avoid the subject mostly and had some amazing times. We went camping most weekends during the warmer months and spent our time visiting the local sites. It was bliss... the best few months of my life.'

'So what caused you to split?'

'He became increasingly distant and wouldn't say why. I suspected it was something to do with his ex. It took a while for him to admit it, but he did, eventually. Unfinished business, apparently.'

'Did he go back to her?'

I shrugged. 'I would have said yes, except he was adamant that he didn't know where she was.'

'Couldn't her family have told him?'

'I thought the same, but he said not. Whenever I mentioned it, he became tense. And to be honest, I was too broken-hearted to hold a proper conversation, so I didn't ask too often.'

Kelly nodded.

Tears misted my eyes as memories of that dreadful moment repeated in my thoughts. I had believed I had found my soul mate and I'd thought Lance had felt the same way. We had never made plans for the future, yet I still envisioned us getting married and having children, and couldn't imagine my life without him. Everything felt right. Our personalities meshed perfectly; we brought the best out in each other and seemed to tolerate each other's negative traits with apparent ease.

'It's clear you still care for him,' she said.

Nodding, I wiped away a tear with the back of my hand. 'I'm trying not to get ahead of myself. He never implied he wanted to go back to where we were. In fact, he seemed a little uncertain of himself, as though he was questioning making the call at all.'

'There's nothing wrong with hoping for the best.'

'No,' I said slowly. 'But he's broken my heart once already, I'm not sure I can deal with that again.'

'Then don't go.'

'No, I have to do this. If I don't' I'll be forever wondering what might have happened.'

'Then be careful.'

I nodded and drifted upstairs to my bedroom. My emotions were in turmoil; I was excited at the prospect of what may happen, but I was also dreading the thought of him turning me down. Quite likely, his motives for calling me were different to what I hoped to be true. There again, what could they possibly be? The answer was thirty hours away, and as far as I was concerned, it couldn't come soon enough.

The moment my shift ended, I hurried away from the healthcare centre in my ageing vehicle, a cast off from my mother, and headed home. I had allowed myself fifteen minutes to wash and change before I had to be out of the door, and I could afford no disruptions or distractions. Thankfully, the house was empty, so I didn't have to waste time with unnecessary pleasantries, and raced upstairs, flung my work clothes onto my bed and hurried into the shower.

After a quick wash, I donned one of my favourite summer dresses, a floral-print mini dress with a flared skirt and a lace hem, an open neckline and short lace sleeves. Then, I put on my white sandals, applied minimal makeup to my face, a dab of perfume onto my neck and brushed my hair.

I glanced at the time. It was five-forty and time I was leaving. Quaking with excitement, I slung my handbag over my shoulder and started downstairs taking care not to trip in my heels. The last thing I needed was an accident en route. I wanted tonight to be perfect; I wanted to leave a lasting impression that may potentially change his mind about me.

I started away. The route to his aunt's house was so familiar to me that it was like stepping back in time, and it caused a surge of warmth to spread through my body. Back then, I had just acquired my first car, a second-hand Ford Fiesta. It was red, and despite its age, it was clean with unblemished paintwork and it was a good runner. Over the months we were together, we had many happy memories in it and used it to travel to and from bars and nightclubs and for days out. Since Lance's car was larger, we used his for our camping trips, for our hazy days of love. They were joyous times.

I arrived on a lane close to Lance's Aunt's house, glanced at the house with a large overhanging pear tree at the corner, a familiar sight that made me smile, then turned onto her street. Her house was on the left, just around a bend and opposite a rattan fence. I stopped in what I assumed was the right place, but the missing fence threw me. The owners had replaced it with steel wire mesh fencing.

Confident that I had arrived at the right place, I killed the engine and glanced with hope and expectation through the small front garden with narrow borders and a tiny lawn at the bay window. There was no sign of Lance or his aunt, Mrs Walker. I assumed they were somewhere at the rear, either in the kitchen, conservatory, or rear garden.

I checked my appearance in the car mirror, exited my car and stepped with nervous excitement towards the side door under the carport. Years before, after our separation, I had dreamed of returning here. Now the moment had arrived, it was barely believable. With my heart hammering and my mind filled with expectation, I knocked on the door.

The door opened. I had hoped Lance would greet me. Instead, Mrs Walker was the one that answered, and she welcomed me with a cheery smile and thanked me for visiting as swiftly as I had. I thought it was a strange comment to make, but I quickly disregarded it as unimportant and stepped inside.

'Do you like beef?' she asked.

'I do. I eat most things. It's good of you to invite me.' I glanced through the doorway, hoping to see Lance. He did not appear. 'I hope it's no trouble.'

She shook her head and smiled. 'Lance is in the conservatory. Go through.'

I was slightly concerned that he hadn't moved to greet me. If he had been decorating or doing some similar construction job, it would have seemed acceptable; as it was, he was sitting on a chair with his back to me apparently doing nothing.

Nevertheless, my concerns didn't last since my joy soon became my overriding emotion. I was desperate to talk to him and strode through the lounge heading to the conservatory at the rear. As I approached the door, he turned his head and a smile widened his face. I stepped into the room.

He leant forward to reach my hand. 'Thank you for coming. You look fantastic... haven't changed a bit.'

A lump formed in my throat. I wanted to say the same, but I couldn't lie. Lance looked awful and appeared to have aged twenty or more years during the short time that we'd been apart. His skin was pasty white, his eyes sunken, and his body emaciated. Surprisingly, his hair looked thick and lush and it seemed out of place.

'It was great to hear from you, Lance. You made my day.'

He smiled and encouraged me to sit beside him. 'Your life is that dull then?'

I chuckled. 'It is a bit.'

'Then I'm your man!' He turned towards me and raised his bent leg to the small sofa. 'So who's getting you down? Not your sister, I hope.'

I grinned. I'd always had problems with Lisa, and Lance had been great at providing a listening ear. And this time was no different; even though we hadn't spoken about my troubles, they suddenly seemed less significant.

'I'm right, aren't I?' he said in an exuberant voice. 'Nothing changes then.'

'No, you're wrong! She has changed. She was a doddle at fifteen!'

He laughed. 'That bad?'

'That bad. We had a huge fight over the weekend. My parents were celebrating their thirtieth wedding anniversary and had hired a suite for a celebration meal for family and friends. It's been a big thing for them... they'd been planning it and looking forward to it for the best part of the last year.'

'What did she do?'

'She didn't show! Can you believe that? She'd been out drinking in the afternoon and got herself a date... with Benjamin Dashwood no less!'

'Not the footballer?'

'That's right. It sounds petty now, but I was furious with her for arranging it on Saturday night. Couldn't she have waited one more day?'

He smiled. 'How on earth did she manage to get a date with him?'

'She's been hanging around the team for the last year doing lord knows what to draw their attention.' I passed him a quick glance. 'I am concerned for her. She's better than the image she's portraying and it's bringing out the worst in her. A couple of years ago, she wouldn't have let Mum and Dad down the way she did. It was a horrid thing to do.'

'She's always been impulsive Marie... and a little thoughtless.'

'Maybe.'

He took my hand. 'It's wonderful that you care as much as you do. It was one of the reasons I loved you as much as I did.'

I looked deep into his eyes and my heart fluttered. It was as though we'd never parted, as though we were lovers once more, and I yearned to touch him and to hold him in my arms.

Lance snapped away, breaking my reverie and looking into space. 'You shouldn't let Lisa bother you as you do. I'm sure she's being sensible, and if not, she'll learn from her mistakes.'

'I hope so.'

'Let her have a bit of fun, yeah?'

I nodded. 'You always had a way of calming me down. The number of times I've needed a bit of your sanity...'

'So you've missed me?'

My eyes twinkled. 'Like a pain in the backside.'

'That's good,' he said, averting his gaze. 'I don't want you depending on me.'

His comment troubled. Moments earlier, he had reminded me of the love we shared, as though we could rekindle it, and now he was pushing me away. His signals were definitely mixed, and it was a concern.

Or was I over-analysing? That was more likely. I should shut off my mind and wait for things to happen naturally, something he'd often told me to do.

'Are you still nursing?' he asked.

I nodded. 'In general practice at Esterbeech Healthcare Centre. It's good because it gives me regular hours, but the work can be a bit repetitive at times and therefore a bit dull.'

'What kind of things do you do?'

'I carry out regular first-aid duties, I do a bit in the well-woman clinic, and I help out in our specialist cancer unit, although that's not frequent, just when my services are required.'

'Did you ever do any nutrition and complementary therapy courses like you fancied?'

I grinned. 'I can't believe you remember!'

He held an impassive face.

'I've done a few. That's why I work in the cancer unit—to provide nutritional advice. It's a big thing right now, especially since most cancers are said to be lifestyle related.'

'Do you believe that the immune system can fight cancer?'

'Definitely. Some research has been done on blood cancers looking at that very thing. Apparently, scientists believe they're getting somewhere, and I'd expect them to, as well. I'm no expert, but some people have gone into spontaneous remission just by reprogramming the immune system.'

'That must be uncommon.'

'It is, but the fact it happens occasionally proves we can train the immune system to fight back. And even if the nutritional and complementary medicine doesn't bring about a remission, it often improves the quality of life, extending lifespan. Surely that has to be a good thing.'

Lance smiled warmly. 'You're passionate about this, aren't you?'

I nodded. 'Unfortunately, I don't get to use my skills as often as I would like. Most people believe the traditional treatments are the preferred choice, and they come to me as a last resort, if ever. Unfortunately, I can't work miracles.'

'Is chemo a bad choice?'

'No, but it can leave drug-resistant cancer cells to fester, and once they're there, they're in the body forever. Only the immune system has the ability to wage war on the little blighters, and that's not always enough!'

He held a pensive gaze.

'Sorry, Lance. There's me rattling on, and you still haven't told me a thing about yourself—or of the favour you wanted from me.'

'I want to learn all about you first. You're far more interesting.'

I was about to disagree when his aunt entered the conservatory and told us dinner was about to be served and that we should move to the table. As I stood up, a strange look passed between them, and then Lance shook his head. Clearly, his aunt had mouthed a silent question. Whilst concerned, I saw no cause to worry and sat at the table as instructed.

Lance followed suit, although he moved more cautiously than I had done, as though something bothered him. He sat beside me, and soon his aunt brought out our plates of food. The meal consisted of Yorkshire pudding, beef cuts, new potatoes, green beans, cauliflower and baby carrots. Cooked to perfection, it was every bit as delicious as I remembered having all those years before. I complimented her efforts,

The conversation continued in the same easy manner we'd had thus far. I thoroughly enjoyed being in Lance's company since he was every bit as warm, witty and interesting as I remembered. Yet no matter how I tried, I couldn't learn about any aspect of his life or the reason he had drawn me to his house. He was good at evading my questions, and whilst for a few seconds his dismissive behaviour niggled, I soon found myself talking about another aspect of my life.

We laughed, we joked, and we shared humorous anecdotes. By the time, the meal was over and I had moved into the lounge and Lance had disappeared to the bathroom, I reflected on our time together thus far. I knew I was at risk of falling in love with him all over again, and I sensed it was wrong. Whilst he had a warm personality, I wasn't certain he was treating me any differently to the way he would have treated anyone else. I wasn't even certain of his intentions since I didn't have a clue as to his marital status or even if he considered me as a potential lover.

In truth, he was a bit of an enigma. So, I took a decision. When he returned, I decided it was time to put an end to my confusion and ask him about his intentions.

Madge, as she preferred to be known, was first to appear in the room, and she had a concerned look on her face. I sensed they had been together and passed her a questioning look.

'He'll be out in a minute.'

'Is... is everything all right?'

'He'll fill you when he gets here.'

I filled with dread. Regrettably, she didn't say anything more. She didn't even stay in the room and strode back to the kitchen to tidy up. I considered following her, and even got as far as the doorway, but when I noticed a concerned look on her face and then heard the re-emerging sound of Lance's footsteps in the hallway, I halted my steps.

I stared at the doorway, waiting for his arrival. When he entered, his face looked whiter than ever. Struggling to stand upright, he pressed his arm against the wall for support.

I hurried to help him.

He voiced an almost silent sound of gratitude and with my assistance sank into the armchair. Then, he leant his head back on the headrest and shut his eyes. Resting quietly, he took repetitive shallow breaths and pressed the palm of his hand against his middle. Clearly, he was in pain.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, and after a few seconds, he focused his eyes.

My eyes pleaded for answers, but I could not speak.

'I'm fine,' he said in a clearly feigned voice. 'Now where were we?'

'No,' I said quickly. 'What's going on Lance? I need to know.'

He averted his gaze.

I hurried towards him, crouched at his feet and held his hand.

Our eyes met and his moistened. I had never seen him cry, and immediately my panic aroused. He was about to tell me something terrible, something I didn't want to hear.

Instinctively, I jumped to my feet and tried to pull away.

He firmed his grip on my sweaty hand and willed me to stay.

I had never been a quitter, but I didn't want this. I wanted to be anywhere but where I was. For some reason, I knew what was coming.

'You were always good to me,' he said, 'more than I deserved.'

I had no reply and bit my trembling lip.

'I... I'm not even sure I should be asking you this. It's... it's selfish of me.'

I wanted to urge him on, but my stirring emotions choked me of words and I could not speak.

'But we all have to be selfish once in a while, right?'

Given he was the least selfish person I had ever known, I knew this was his time and nodded my agreement.

'I'd like you to help me,' he said uncertainly and then cleared his throat. 'I have terminal cancer, Marie. I'm dying and haven't long left.'

# Chapter 3

I covered my mouth with my hand and bit my trembling lip as tears flooded my eyes. I was doing everything I could to prevent myself from crying, but it was a helpless cause. Lance was dying, the man I loved, and the man I visited with hopes and expectations of sharing a beautiful future.

How could this be true? He was young, and when we'd last been in contact, he'd been healthy, fit and strong. It was grossly unfair.

'Please don't cry,' he said softly.

I glanced towards him through misted eyes. The sight of him sitting there trying to be strong was too much for me to bear and I flopped onto him, draped my arms around his bony shoulders, and sobbed openly.

I grieved for Lance, I grieved for myself, and I grieved for everything I'd endured over the course of the past few weeks. It was a massive release, and minutes later, I pulled away, noticed his tear-drenched face, and forced a sheepish smile.

'Normally, crying is banned in this house.'

'Sorry,'

'No more, okay? I'm not worth crying over.'

It was the wrong thing to say, and my face scrunched and my chest heaved.

'Marie...'

Breathing a couple of slow deep breaths, I fought back the tears, pulled away and mumbled an apology. As I did so, I noticed a box of tissues by his side. He must have realised what I was looking at as he handed them across.

When I dabbed my eyes, I remembered my makeup. 'I must look a mess.'

'You look beautiful.'

I chuckled. 'You have a strange taste.'

He laughed too and then helped me clean up my face. By the time our task was complete, I felt a little more in control, and sat on the sofa and listened to his explanation of what had happened.

Shortly after we split up, Lance had found a lump under his armpit, which proved to be a particularly fatal form of cancer. Over the course of the next few years,' he had a myriad of treatment including several rounds of chemotherapy, and it eradicated the cancer—or so they believed. Regrettably, it proved to be a short-term solution and just recently, the doctors discovered cancer had spread to his lungs. Since he had opted to avoid surgery and further treatment, death was inevitable.

'I'm fine with it,' Lance said, 'and you should be too. These things happen. It's how we deal with them that matters.'

I was dumbstruck. How could I be fine with it, and how could he give up? Surely, any treatment was better than nothing. Otherwise, there was no chance of surviving. Was that what he wanted? Did he crave the end to come?

'I have thought long and hard about this. Please respect my decision.'

My nod was feeble. 'I just can't get my head around it. Are you certain there's nothing else they can do? Another consultant might be able to point to alternatives.'

He coughed, spluttered out a bit of phlegm, which he wiped away with a tissue, and shook his head. 'They've looked at all options. It's the best solution.'

'Have they given up on you?'

'No, but I can't tolerate more chemo. The first few were fine, but since then I've had bad reactions. I just start to feel better after one round when the next one comes along. It's killing me Marie and it's not worth it. I may not be in the best of health right now, but believe me when I say I'm better now than I would be if I was having chemo.'

I frowned. I knew how exhausting being permanently ill could be having seen it in my patients. But giving up wasn't in my nature. Surely, someone out there could help. I couldn't let him die and wracked my brain for an agreeable solution.

'Have your team looked into getting you onto a trial?'

He nodded. 'My name was put on a list a couple of years ago. Nothing's come up.'

'There are specialists in other countries that have different ways of dealing with cancer. I could find out what's available for you.'

'Please don't. I've had enough. The stress has been killing me.' A smile formed on his face. 'It's quite ironic really.'

'I understand you must be fed up with being ill, but—'

'Don't, please. I've made up my mind and I'm not prepared to go through it any more. Remember how you felt when you had gastroenteritis for five days. I feel like that every day and have done for years. It's expecting too much.'

I remembered my illness only too well. Before my improvement came, I would have done anything to relieve myself of the illness, even crazy things that with a clear head I would have known would have made me worse. Therefore, how he must feel was beyond my imagination.

'So you've given up the fight,' I said.

He passed me a determined look.

'You can't expect me to accept this. It's too hard.'

'I'm sorry, but I can't fight you on this. I don't have your strength or energy. It's an effort speaking to you. I've focused more during the last few hours than I have done for ages.'

I looked at my hand resting on the arm of the sofa. I wasn't intentionally causing him stress, but it was important to me that he found the best solution. Giving up wasn't the answer, and it definitely wasn't the best way forward. I'd only just found him again. I couldn't bear the thought of losing him so soon.

'I won't let you give up,' I whimpered, new tears forming in my eyes. 'You're too important to me.'

His frown displayed his understanding, but he did not respond. How could he? He hadn't got cancer deliberately, nor had he requested a particularly aggressive type. None of this was his fault or of his choosing. He was doing what he believed would be the easiest thing for him to cope with, and that was his prerogative. No one else had the right to take a decision on how he should live the remainder of his life, and certainly not me.

I caught his eye. 'I'm not trying to make this hard for you. I'm just...' I paused, pondered my statement. 'I'm just gutted.'

'I know.'

'So,' I said forcing a happy face. 'Do you have a bucket list?'

Relief swept across his face. 'I do. I've done some things, such as travelling. But the majority of my time is taken raising money for charity. I have a blog that I update when I can, and I've set up a fundraising account too.'

I forced a smile. 'Where do I find you?'

'Type in "Danny Beattie" into a search engine, and I'll be there. I've quite a following.'

'Why that name?'

He shrugged. 'It seemed the right thing to do at the time.'

'Fair enough. How much money have you raised?'

A proud smile widened his face. 'A bit.'

I waited for him to elaborate.

'Close to two hundred thousand pounds.'

'Wow! I wasn't expected that. That's amazing Lance. What kind of things have you done?'

'Lots of sponsored events—walks, dancing, things like that. I've done a couple of talks, and I've had things donated for me to sell or auction.'

'That is uplifting. I wish you'd contacted me sooner. I'd love to have helped you out.'

'It's not over yet. And I could do with some fresh ideas.'

'I'd love to Lance... anytime.'

'Great. But not now. I don't have the energy.'

Wondering if he was dropping a hint for me to leave, I studied his ashen complexion. However, before I had a chance to make the suggestion, he told me that he intended to make every day count. 'I tend to have fun,' he said. 'I like being around people who make me laugh.'

'Hint taken,' I said.

He smiled, and after a moment of hesitation, he told me he had missed me. Then he added that he hadn't been able to find it within himself to contact me whilst he was ill, claiming it seemed selfish.

'I wouldn't have seen it that way.'

'No,' he said, assessing my expression. 'I don't think you would have done.'

'So why have you contacted me now. You said on the phone you needed a favour.'

He gulped and looked at his lap, and then another coughing fit started. I hurried into the kitchen for a glass of water, briefly wondered where Madge had disappeared to and passed it to him. He took the first sip and spluttered it back up. The second went down.

It was terrible seeing him in such a poor state. Even though I was used to being around the ill, it was much harder than what I was used to dealing with and my heart bled for him. During our past life together, he had always been the strong one, both mentally and physically. Our remaining time was going to be hard.

'Now,' he said, steadying his breathing. 'Where were we?'

'You were about to tell me the favour you wanted from me.'

'I have two actually. Feel free to say no. I won't be offended.'

There was no way I would turn him down in the circumstances and urged him to continue.

After a little encouragement, he asked me if I would come up with a natural treatment plan using herbs, supplements and nutrition.

I chuckled. 'I thought you were going to ask me something hard.'

'I don't expect miracles Marie, but I would like to be in less pain and maybe have a little more energy.'

My face stilled. 'Are you in a lot of pain?'

He nodded. 'Pretty much all over. I'll spare you the details, especially the gross bits. Let's just say nothing is working well at the moment. It's come back aggressively.'

'I'll do whatever I can. I have done a few small courses, and I've learned additional bits from the internet, but I'm not a professional by any means. Are you certain you wouldn't prefer me to find someone qualified? There are brilliant centres all over the place offering complementary cancer treatments.'

'No I'd prefer it was you.'

I wondered if the fees were a concern and considered helping him. I didn't have much cash put aside, but I did have some and I was willing to spend it on Lance. However, when I caught a determined look on his face I reconsidered. He was a proud man and any suggestion was bound to end up in either a dispute or with his embarrassment. Not wanting either, I agreed to his plan and told him I would do the best job I was able.

Once he had thanked me, I summarised my suggestions, which included following something that was known as the Budwig protocol. I told him it addressed the causes of cancer rather than the symptoms, and added that for it to help he needed to be fully committed. He was clearly enthusiastic, which I saw as a positive sign. He further convinced me when he added he had just started practising meditation and positive thinking.

'I think the best way to fight this now is by improving my health,' he said. 'It's what others have done. I've heard of some people in my situation that have had an extra ten years just by doing simple things. And they've been reasonably fit too. Someone even told me I should visualise my blood cells fighting the cancer.' He paused. 'Does that seem a bit weird to you?'

'Not at all. Visualisation releases endorphins, which in turn reduces anxiety and pain. That has to be a good thing since stress hinders the immune system. Plus, and more importantly, the cancer cells spread more easily in a stressed body.' I regarded him warmly. 'That's not what we want—we need everything to be in tip-top condition.' I caught his interested gaze. 'Do you find it hard to manage your stress levels?'

'I used to, but not so much now. I've developed a good way of blocking the negative things out.' He paused to catch his breath. 'I'm good at it, providing I don't have people sobbing on me.'

I dropped my gaze. 'Sorry about that.'

'You made my shirt soggy,' he said, glancing down at his shoulder. 'It brings back memories.'

'I've been trying to toughen up. It was working until you—' I stopped suddenly.

'So it's my fault now!' he said with a twinkle in his eye. 'Blame me, why don't you!'

I wanted to say at least now I had something to cry about, but I decided against it. Reminding him of his condition at every opportunity was not going to be helpful to either of us.

For the next few moments, I watched as his chest rose and fell, and his eyes glazed. He was clearly fatigued and seemed to be doing whatever he could to remain focused on our conversation and me. Ignoring my desires that were screaming out for me to share in his company for as long as I was able, I decided I should leave and made the suggestion.

'I must admit, I am knackered.'

I passed him a sympathetic look and asked him when it was convenient to bring around my notes. He wanted them as soon as possible, but regrettably, his mother was visiting him the following night and he had an appointment with the doctor the day after. So, we made a date for the following week on the proviso that I dropped the notes as soon as I could.

'Can I ask you something?' I said and paused. 'Why are you staying here rather than with your parents?'

'My consultant's located in the city hospital, so it makes it easier to travel to. Plus, I get on well with Madge. She's not as uptight as my parents are. They make me anxious and depressed.'

I nodded.

'My Mum's a bit weepy, too.' His eyes glimmered. 'So you've been warned. If you don't keep them at bay you're out!'

I swallowed. 'I'll do my best.'

'Before you go, there's something else I wanted to ask.' He averted his gaze to his twiddling thumbs. 'You might think I'm being a bit cheeky.'

'I won't. Go on.'

'If you don't want to help, please tell me. I won't be offended.'

'I'll do anything for you, Lance. You should know that.'

'That's what worries me. I can't offer you anything in return.'

'Not even friendship?'

He presented a twisted smile.

'If it puts you at ease, I will consider saying no.'

He nodded, sipped a bit of water, wiped his mouth with a tissue, and then caught my attention. 'I treated you badly when we broke up and I'm sorry.'

My pulse quickened and my adrenaline surged; suddenly, I'd dismissed his cancer from my mind and reignited my feelings of love.

'I did love you,' he said, 'but it was bad timing. Maybe if we'd met sooner or even later...' His voice drifted as sadness lay on his face. 'Anyway, I should have explained myself better. I was unfair to you.'

'No you weren't. Breakups are always messy, and I did get the gist of it. It was unfinished business.'

'Yes, with Taylor,' he said sadly. 'I did something stupid and I've regretted it ever since.' He leant forward and stretched out his hand to meet with mine. 'I need closure with something. I know it's a lot to ask, but can you...' He regarded me with unease and wiped his mouth.

'Just ask.'

'Can you help me find her?'

I gawped, unresponsive.

'I know it's a lot to ask, but I need to know how my actions affected her. As I said, I was incredibly stupid with something and I need to know she's all right. I loved her once upon a time and I...' His voice drifted, his eyes wandering.

'How will I find her?' I said, cutting him off.

'I'll help where I can.' He folded his arms around his middle. 'I don't expect an answer now, but I'd like you to promise me you'll consider it. This is important to me Marie, otherwise, I wouldn't be asking. I'd do it myself only I'm not certain I have the strength. I have to manage my activities else I'm likely to keel over.'

I nodded my reply. What else could I say? I didn't want to search for his ex-girlfriend, the very person who had caused our separation, but how could I deny him? It was clearly important to him, and if I needed any more motivation, I only needed to remind myself that he was dying. Plus, I had promised him I would help him in any way I could, so in a sense, I had no choice.

'As I said, I don't expect an answer today,' he said. 'Just think about it okay.'

I said I would, thanked him for contacting me, and rose to my feet. 'I'll drop in those notes tomorrow. They're extensive, and, I hope, self-explanatory, and the sooner you get started on your new protocol the better. Any questions and you can call me. But as we said earlier, we can go over it together when we meet.'

'Thank you. This means a lot.'

'I'm just sad we have had to meet in these circumstances.'

'I agree' he said and kissed my hand. 'But better late than never, yeah?'

I nodded.

'And don't cry.'

My lip wobbled and my eyes moistened. I made an attempt at a positive reply, said goodbye, and walked from the house.

# Chapter 4

During my drive home, my heart was heavy and my mind fatigued with stress as I struggled to come to terms with everything I'd learned. Before my visit, I knew I had been hoping for the impossible by expecting our relationship to continue from where it had broken down years before, and I had expected to be disappointed, but I had never expected this.

How could an apparently strong, fit and healthy young man in his prime deteriorate into the withered and broken reflection of his former self so quickly and completely? It seemed impossible, and my chest heaved at the thought of his situation, bringing fresh tears to my eyes. Why wasn't it a horrid dream? Why wasn't someone playing a cruel joke on us?

My adrenaline surged, my pain deepening. I wiped my moisture gathering in the corners of my eyes, breathed deeply, and tried to focus on the journey home. But all I could think about was Lance and his emaciated and fatigued body and washed out complexion. To look at him, he was a fraction of his former self, yet to hear his words, the inflexions in his voice, his clear interest and compassion as I spoke, he hadn't changed a bit.

If he had been bed-ridden and struggled to form sentences and display any joy for life, I would have found it easier to accept his decision to die. As it was, his mind was imprisoned in his body; there were no means of making permanent repairs, only bodged ones, and there were no means of escape.

How did anyone cope with such a prognosis? Whilst the mind remained strong, the body broke down a little more each day, and there was no going back. Did Lance contemplate the working extent of each of his organs on a daily basis? It seemed not. He seemed to have developed a laissez-faire attitude, something he must have strengthened over time.

Was it the same for his aunt and parents? Regardless, I doubted I would ever grow used to Lance's illness, and selfishly wondered how I was going to get through the coming days and weeks. There was no question in my mind that I loved him as deeply as I always had, and the more time we spent together, the more those feelings were likely to come to the forefront of my mind. Undoubtedly, I was about to tread a difficult path.

I parked the car outside my house and strode towards the door of the house. It was still early and the lights were on, with either or both of my housemates at home. As I opened the door, the sound of bellowing laughter coming from the lounge drew my attention. Deciding to act for myself first, I placed my bag on the floor by the radiator, switched on the kettle and prepared a tea. From the sound of voices, I could tell both Ebony and Kelly were home, and they were entertaining two friends, Sara and Maddie. Even though I knew them well, I was not in the mood to be sociable and waited in silence for the water to boil.

The continuing sound of their joyous tones caused me to tense. I was both envious and irritated by their happiness, emotions I should not be feeling. Yet I couldn't help it, and the more enthusiastic they sounded, the tighter I became. Silently, I willed the water to boil more quickly. Then I could disappear into my bedroom and wallow in private.

It was not to be. As I swirled around the teabag in the mug, I caught the sight of movement in my eye corner followed by a surprised squeal. I turned my head. Kelly jolted at my presence and in the process knocked a packet of biscuits from the worktop to the floor.

'Jeez Marie, you scared the crap out of me!'

I passed her a blank look before catching sight of Ebony peering from around the lounge door.

'I told you she's drunk too much,' Ebony said to the others. 'She's creating chaos in there... scattering the biscuits.'

'Deliberately?' Sara said and laughed. 'Don't eat anything she offers!'

'No cat biscuits for me this time,' Maddie yelled.

'Meow!' Sara added and burst into laughter.

Kelly had a reputation for doing silly things. Once in a drunken stupor, she unwittingly poured cat biscuits into a dish, ate a handful then handed them out. In her ignorance, she said they tasted good, something that her friends had ever let her forget. Then, on another occasion, rather than adding wine to a homemade cocktail, she unwittingly added vinegar. They drank the majority before someone discovered the unopened wine bottle in the kitchen. It was a hilarious moment.

I didn't take long for Sara to remember the connections I'd made, and more laughter followed, followed by numerous friendly jibes. Kelly took it in good humour then returned to me in the kitchen. I watched as she removed a pre-prepared cocktail from the fridge and poured it into four glasses. It was only when she added a smear of hot chilli sauce to the rim of three of the glasses that I realised her intended prank. Warming to the idea of a little fun, I followed in her trail with my tea in my hand and perched on the arm of the armchair.

'Is this safe?' Ebony asked.

Kelly passed her a need-you-ask look and then added, 'As Marie is my witness.'

I managed to keep a straight face and watched as the three of them reached the glasses, and to our gratitude, simultaneously took a sip.

The squeals and yelps of horror stirred my insides, engendering a moment of joy. Moments like this would become increasingly important if I was going to get through the coming weeks unscathed. I wouldn't rely on alcohol as a solution, but I would use my friends, and not so much to provide a listening ear, as I preferred to keep the majority of my thoughts private, but for providing laughter and joy. I sensed it was incredibly important for me to see both sides of life at the same time, the good and the bad, and it was likely to be the same for Lance too. It helped maintain a degree of sanity, and that was important.

I now understood how he coped, and why he had said that I shouldn't cry but should encourage laughter and fun. It wouldn't be easy, and there would be times when I would have to make a quick disappearance to a private location for a little weep, but it was something I could learn.

It was an uplifting moment. Gratified, I cast aside my tea, strode to the kitchen, and poured myself a glass of Kelly's high-strength cocktail.

Keeping myself at a respectful distance from Lance during the coming days was incredibly hard to do, and multiple times I either tapped in a text message or was about to make a phone call when I backed out. I didn't want to apply pressure and appear pushy; alternatively, I didn't want to appear uncaring either. Eventually, and deciding it was less intrusive to text, I asked him if he had received my notes on cancer and diet, which I had dropped in earlier in the week but handed to Madge.

Even though I had a regular stream of patients, I regularly tapped on the screen of my phone checking for his reply. It didn't come until lunchtime, and as I opened it, my pulse quickened to an excited beat.

'It's brilliant—just what I was hoping for. Already started. Have you considered my request to find Taylor? Feel free to say no...'

With a certain amount of regret, I told him that I would try to find her. Lance thanked me profusely, told me he would give me the details when he next saw me then added he was looking forward to seeing me. He finished his message with a smiley emoticon and a kiss.

Tears formed in my eyes. It seemed that every time he made me smile, he made me cry too, and I was helpless to stop it. I agreed with Lance that it wasn't appropriate to cry in front of him, and believed we had to make each of his remaining days as happy as possible. To do that, I must practise being strong in private.

I didn't help myself by suddenly remembering his blog. Driven, I accessed his site on the surgery computer and perused the entries. He had photographed himself regularly, whether he was sick in bed, connected to hospital equipment, or taking part in a fundraising activity. And he was bald, changing his appearance to someone I barely recognised.

I held my hand to my mouth and bit my wobbling lip. Reading the entries pertaining to his illness was heartbreaking and it caused tears to drip freely onto my cheeks. He had suffered more greatly than I could have imagined, which included having extended weeks of diarrhoea, vomiting, sleepless nights, and agonising chest pain, and my heart bled for him. It was unpleasant enough learning of anyone's suffering, but when it was someone you cared for deeply, it felt a hundred times worse.

Deciding I wasn't doing myself any favours, I closed the site, grabbed my sandwiches, and went to the staffroom where there would be no distractions. There were a few people there, but no one I particularly wanted to chat with, so once I'd made a coffee, I sat on one of the padded seats in the corner, away from the others, and flicked through a magazine.

Focusing was difficult. Despite trying to distract myself with stories of romance, fraud in the workplace and sibling rivalry, I couldn't get rid of images of Lance's emaciated body from my mind as everything linked back to him. He wouldn't be able to love again; he wouldn't have the opportunity to work, and he wouldn't be able to argue with family members. It was a terrible situation.

Did the rest of us realise how blessed they were? It certainly put my life into perspective. Only two weeks ago, I had been moping about things that with hindsight had been incredibly petty. Everything could be much worse.

The door opened. Shona, my closest friend and ex-housemate strode into the room. When she caught sight of me sitting there, our faces lit up. I had missed her over the last few weeks after she moved out to live with her partner, and we exchanged kind words and a quick hug. She went on to tell me of her blissful family life, which included an improved relationship between her mother and grandmother, before changing the subject to my sister.

'And what's this I hear about Lisa going out with Benjamin Dashwood? How on earth has she managed that?'

'She sold her soul to the devil, apparently.'

Her face changed to one of concern. I realised I had sounded more bitter than intended, and tried to retract the tone of my comment.

Shona wasn't fooled. 'I assume you've been arguing again then?'

'How did you guess?' I said and puffed out my cheeks. 'It's no big deal—we'll sort it.'

'What happened?'

I told her about her absence at our parents' anniversary do, our quarrel and my father's decision to side with her. Even though I knew I sounded petty and bitter, Shona backed my actions and reinforced my feelings of putting family first. I wasn't surprised; she was a good friend and normally supportive of my comments.

She studied my expression. 'This is really bothering you, isn't it?'

I wondered if she was seeing sadness and stress relating to Lance, but I wasn't in the mood to put her right. I also didn't want to open up to her in the middle of the working day, and nodded my agreement.

'Then you should talk with her,' she suggested. 'Don't let it fester, Marie.'

'I won't. I just haven't had time.'

She nodded thoughtfully then sipped her drink. 'I still can't get over it. What a catch! Have you met him yet?'

'No, but I doubt it'll last long anyway. To be honest, we haven't even discussed him—not properly.'

'Oh right,' she said and lowered her head.

'Do you know something?'

'I don't like to be the one to tell you this, but their relationship is all over social media. Apparently, they're deeply in love.'

My jaw dropped. 'But it's barely been two weeks.'

Shona shrugged. 'These things can happen fast, especially if it's meant to be.'

'I got the impression it was a one-night stand.'

'That's not what is being said. I know Benjamin has a bit of a reputation, but I heard from a friend of a friend that he's not the playboy he's made out to be.'

'But he's always got some hot chic hanging from his arm. I can't believe for one second he doesn't sleep with them.'

She looked concerned.

'He's a good-looking man with stacks of money. Types like that don't give a toss about people's feelings, footballers especially. You hear about it on the news all the time, they're forever being done for rape.'

'That's a gross generalisation, Marie. Maybe a few are like that, but I doubt they all are.'

'And if it's not rape, it's fighting. She can do much better.' I swigged back my final mouthful of drink. 'I tried to warn her away months ago, but she wouldn't have it. And she's hardly going to listen to me now, is she? Why would she? He has the looks, status and money. She'd be a fool not to comply with his every wish.'

She passed me an anxious look. 'Can't you just be happy for her?'

'Not when it's going to end in disaster. Surely you must see that?'

Her face was blank.

'What does Lisa have to barter with? Yes, she's pretty... gorgeous even. But the novelty won't last. She'll be another woman on his long list of failed relationships.'

Suddenly, I realised I had drawn the attention of the others in the room. Regretting my audible outburst, I grabbed our two mugs and strode to the sink to wash them up.

Shona appeared at my rear. 'Maybe we should talk about this later.'

Fleetingly, I turned my head. 'Why? I'm fine. I don't need to talk about it.'

'You don't seem fine.'

'Well, I am.'

Lance appeared in my thoughts causing tears to well in my eyes. I couldn't talk to Shona right now, not in the middle of our working day. So, I dashed past, keeping my face from view, and grabbed my things.

'I have to go,' I said in a hurried voice.

'Shona...'

'Later,' I said and hurried along the corridor to the staff toilet.

I knew I was being over-sensitive, and not just towards my sister, but to everything around me. I wasn't relaxed with my patients, either, and snapped at the slightest thing, something that Mike, my manager brought to my attention at the close of play on Friday.

'Is something bothering you?' he asked. 'Your behaviour is out of character.'

I didn't want to talk about Lance. Lance wasn't family and he wasn't my lover; he was only a friend. Therefore, in theory, I should be capable of dealing with his situation better than I was doing. I was a nurse after all and I should be acting more professionally. 'I'm tired. I'll pull myself together for the start of next week.'

Clearly, he wasn't convinced.

'I've just been under a bit of stress lately,' I added. 'Family problems.'

'I've heard about your sister's adventures.'

I looked at my lap. I had only talked to Shona about it, although I had ranted quite loudly. Others were bound to have heard, and word would soon have spread to those who hadn't been there. Everyone loved a bit of gossip, especially when it involved someone famous.

'It might help to talk about it,' he said.

'No, it's fine.' I rose to my feet. 'I promise you, I'll be back to my usual self by next week.'

'If you're not, come to me first, okay. It's why I'm here... all part of the service.'

'Thanks, Mike.'

Leaving his office, my mood lifted. I had finished work for a couple of days and was going to visit Lance. I sensed as soon as I was with him that I would start to feel normal again, and I was looking forward to it. Enjoying a burst of adrenaline, I grabbed my bag from my room, slung it over my shoulder, and went to my car.

I had just initiated the engine when I heard the slight sound of the musical ringtone coming from within my bag. I reached inside, saw it was Lance, and my heart fluttered to a crazy beat.

'Hiya,' I said in a chirpy tone. 'I was just on my way over—'

'Marie, it's Madge. I'm glad I've finally caught you. Lance is having a bad day. He's asked me if you'd mind postponing your visit.'

A weight developed in my middle, my panic emerging. The severity of his illness was a concern and I was terrified that he might die. However, I was also afraid of voicing my worries for fear of sounding overly negative, and so I withheld such comments and agreed in a breezy voice to her suggestion. Lance and I may have history, but I was still a comparative stranger in their lives and was yet to determine my place. Also, if I mentioned his imminent death, I was afraid that somehow, as crazy as it sounded, I may cause it to happen.

'He should be okay in a couple of days. He said he'll contact you.'

'Thank the Lord,' I said in a breathy tone.

Amusement sounded in her voice. 'I thought you'd be concerned. Unfortunately, it's something we've grown used to over time... it's become a matter of routine. He gets some good days and some rotten ones. It's why he's keen to enjoy the good ones.'

'I guessed as much. So, you're certain he'll pull through.'

'We must always be ready for the worst—his body is in a dreadful state, and by all accounts, he shouldn't be alive. But I am cautiously optimistic. He's a fighter. He won't give up until he's ready.'

'That's good,' I whispered, fighting to speak past the lump in my throat.

'You cheered him up no end the other week. Don't be a stranger to him, now will you? Just wait for his call.'

'I will, and thank you.'

I hadn't realised I was shaking until I placed the phone at my side and sank back into the car seat. Lance's latest illness affected me deeply, with countless worries spinning through my thoughts. Consequently, I needed to offload my deepest emotions and considered whom to call. Normally, Lisa or Shona would be my choices, but I sensed now wasn't the time. Their lives were going through positive phases and I didn't want to be a burden. In addition, the joy they were experiencing in comparison to what little I had would be too much for me to tolerate. Enthusing for Shona, as I had done the previous day, had been difficult; I wouldn't have been able to do it for long.

Regrettably, there was no one else I could trust. I could speak to my parents, but since I didn't want to discuss my dispute with Lisa, I ruled them out. In addition, whilst Ebony and Kelly were contenders, I didn't feel entirely comfortable talking to them about deeply personal matters. Also, even though Kelly had known I had visited Lance, she hadn't asked me how it had gone. I could accept it wouldn't have been important to her; nonetheless, her thoughtlessness hurt.

Perhaps I should have spoken to Mike, after all.

Glancing at the building, I was considering it as an option when a little voice within my head criticised my suggestion. He was my manager and not a friend. All he cared about was my ability to do my work. He didn't care about me, not really. Plus, if I broke down into a flood of tears, which I feared I would, my embarrassment would remain with me forever.

Forlorn, I started away, heading home. I succeeded in holding off the tears until I arrived in the privacy of my bedroom, and then I slumped onto the bed, laid my head on my hands, and let them fall.

It didn't take long for the tinkling sound of an arriving text message on my phone to alert my attention. Acting on automaton, I wiped away the mist from my eyes and opened it up.

It was from Lance. 'Thanks for understanding. I'm having fun counting peas and carrots in my puke! You can join in next time! I'll be in touch, Lance x.'

His attempt at humour put me to shame, triggering a new determination to bury my woes. Considering my own mortality, I told myself I could be in his situation next week, next year or within the decade and then I would have a reason to cry. Until then, I had none and had to learn to be more grateful for each day and try to spend my time productively instead of weeping and moping at every opportunity.

Life was for the living. If I did nothing but feel sorry for myself, I might as well be dead.

Feeling more upbeat, I chose to reply.

'Poor you! You will follow my protocol, won't you! Better the toxins out than in! No sympathy!'

I finished my text with a happy emoticon, a donkey with a big smile, and pressed the Send button. Then, waiting in nervous anticipation, I stared at my phone. He replied within a minute or two with a text containing a variety of laughing animal emoticons and followed it with multiple kisses.

With my job done, I donned my relaxing clothes and progressed downstairs to prepare a meal. I was determined to have fun, and I was going to find ways of sharing my enjoyment with Lance. Not only would it help us to celebrate the remainder of his life, something that was important to us both, but it would also mean that we would be able to spend more time together.

It sounded like a plan, and I could make it work. We may not have long, but I was going to make use of our remaining time. Lance was alive today. I would cry for him when he died and not a moment before.

# Chapter 5

The following day I felt more optimistic than I had all week, and like the previous evening, I remained determined to find ways of raising money for Lance's charity. I didn't want to check his blog to determine what he had done thus far for fear of feeling morose again, so I started a list of my own. I wanted methods for getting people to donate money and get something in return, rather than by seeking sponsors for events.

The first idea I came up with was a bake sale combined with an afternoon tea. We could host the event at one of our houses, invite family, friends, colleagues and neighbours, and ask them to make a small charge for each purchased item. I would be willing to bake lots of small cakes, biscuits and other small sweet items, and I'm sure I would be able to persuade others to do the same. We could even extend it to include Asian snacks, such as samosas and bhajis. It would make it a little different to the usual coffee morning, and I hoped would increase the popularity of the event.

I liked the idea and wondered whom I could ask to help me make the products. My mother always enjoyed a little baking, as did Lisa, although I suspected she would be engrossed in Benjamin and unwilling to give me any of her time.

The thought made me feel tense, so I blocked it from my mind and considered my other friends. Given Shona was a cancer nurse I suspected she would help. I decided to give her a call.

'Hi honey,' I said. 'How's it going?'

'Marie! I was going to call you. Are you...' She paused, apparently reflective. 'Are you okay now?'

'I'm fine. I'm considering arranging a bake sale and afternoon tea to raise money for cancer and wondered if I might be able to persuade you to make something. It doesn't have to be cakes. I was thinking of extending it to Asian snacks too... or anything small you think will sell.'

'It sounds like a good idea. When are you having it?'

'I haven't fixed a date. Soon, I hope.'

'Sure. You can count me in. Any reason you're doing this?'

I gulped. I wasn't ready to talk about Lance yet, as I wasn't certain I would be able to hold it together. I didn't want another weepy session—I'd had enough of those over the last couple of weeks—and answered her comment with a vague response and moved the conversation on.

'Might any of your patients be interested?' I asked.

'Maybe... I'll have a think about it. Carmen might be.'

Carmen was her patient and she had an aggressive form of cancer. Despite Carmen having a nasty and manipulative side, they had grown close in recent weeks and Shona considered her a friend.

'She had another scan last week,' she continued, 'and her cancer is minimal. It's an unbelievable result—better than anyone expected.'

'That's great—no doubt down to your brilliant nursing skills.'

Shona laughed. 'I don't think so, although I will take credit for reducing her stress levels! She's different to the woman I met back in spring!'

'You were tolerant of her.'

'I had to be. She was having a rotten time.' She paused. 'Life can be a bitch at times and it seems to pick on the same person, over and over.'

'You're not wrong there. We should count ourselves lucky.'

'So, are you okay?'

'Yes, of course. I admit I was a bit wound up over Lisa the other day, but I'm fine now.'

'And that's all it was?'

Clearly, she didn't believe me, but I wasn't willing to tell her what was in my heart and changed the subject back to my bake day and afternoon tea. To my gratitude, she was easily distracted and didn't mention my previous low mood again.

It turned into an enjoyable conversation, and twenty minutes later, Shona suggested we met for a drink at some point soon.

'That's if you can pull yourself away from Justin,' I said in a light tone.

'I'll try. He is amazing Marie. He—'

'Stop it!' I said in a humorous voice. 'I can't take any more of your drooling!'

She laughed. 'Fair enough! We'll catch up soon then, okay?'

'Will do. Take care.'

The call ended. I sank back into my chair with a smile broadening my face. It was good to speak with her again, even if it was only on the phone. Maybe next time I would have the courage to tell her about Lance. Whilst it would be a release, I feared it would weaken my resolve to block out my sorrow, and that wasn't my intention. If I felt desperate, I would do it. Until then, I had my fundraising activities to consider.

A couple of hours later, having done all I could, and with my mind dull and my enthusiasm waning, I decided to leave my house in search of company.

It was late afternoon. I parked my car in my parents' driveway next to my mother's car and approached the house door. At each side was a potted plant, each with enthralling trumpet-shaped apricot-coloured flowers and each exuding a delightful scent. Deciding they were recent additions to her floral collection, I made a mental note to pass comment, pressed the bell since the door was locked, and waited for either my mother or father's arrival.

My mother opened the door and when she caught sight of me, a surprised look landed on her face. It seemed a strange reaction for her to have since I often popped in on a Saturday afternoon. I decided to comment.

'I just didn't expect you, that's all,' she said.

Unconvinced, I stepped inside and shut the door. My mother added water to the kettle, switched it on, and announced my arrival to my father. Given he had just stepped from the lounge to within my view I was in a position to observe his reaction. He was surprised too. Then he passed my mother a quick glance before averting his gaze.

I considered commenting again but decided against it. I felt certain whatever was bothering them was going to remain between them, at least for now; I also felt confident that I would discover their problem in due course. My mother, in particular, wasn't good at remaining uncommunicative for long. Providing I remained light-hearted and kept the conversation flowing, she was bound to let her troubles slip.

With our drinks in hand, we progressed to the lounge. It was spacious and large with a large television fitted onto the wall, an electric fireplace with a marble surround on one side, and a cream three-piece suite on the other. Through the French doors, beyond the outdoor furniture, was a long rectangular garden. At the closest point was a small lawn, and further away, through an archway, were an assortment of small vegetable and flower beds, a swing seat, a greenhouse and a shed.

As usual, there was no moss or weeds on the patio, no weeds in the lawn or visible flowerbeds, and no missing paint on the archway or fencing. I hoped one day, I could be as meticulous. I complimented Mum for her effort

'What are those beautiful plants by the door?' I asked.

'Brugmansia, or Angel's Trumpet. I saw them at the garden centre and couldn't resist them. They're not hardy, so I'll have to keep them indoors in the frosty months. But they are beautiful... worth a little effort.'

We talked a little more about the garden before she shared the news regarding an elderly friend who they'd seen at their celebration do the week before. Regrettably, he developed bowel cancer some months before, but it had been caught early and it wasn't a particularly aggressive type, so the prognosis was good.

Fighting a twinge of envy, I locked my arms around my middle.

Cancer seemed to be more prevalent now than even just a few years ago and appeared to have reached epidemic proportions. Everyone seemed to know someone with the disease, and whilst more people lived for ten years or more from diagnosis than was the case forty years ago, it still felt like a death sentence.

We needed a cure, but despite new developments, it seemed unlikely to occur in the medium-term future. Once the cancer was with someone, it remained there, with remissions often temporary. It was a devastating realisation for those who suffered, for their close family and friends.

'He was given notes similar to the ones you hand out,' Mum continued. 'Is it common practice?'

'I offer a bit more than many units since I've looked into complementary treatment plans too. But the advice is there if the patient wants it.'

She nodded interestedly. 'It's terribly sad for those that are diagnosed at a young age. At seventy-one, Eric has had a good life. He told me he would have been ready to go had it been worse.'

I gritted my teeth and clenched my jaw. My sadness relating to Lance was desperate to spill over. I fought it with every ounce of energy in my body until I had an opportunity to change the subject to her celebration do.

A smile warmed her face. 'It was wonderful, wasn't it? It was lovely seeing everyone again. I didn't want the evening to end. Did you enjoy it?'

'I always like being with family. It doesn't happen as much as I'd like. Life takes over at times.' I paused, and glanced at the doorway and listened to the sounds coming from within the house. I had hoped to speak to my brother before he left for the United States. I asked where he was.

Looking decidedly awkward, Mum grabbed a magazine resting on the sofa by her side and slotted it a rack by the armchair. 'He's gone out. You should have called first. No one knew you were coming.'

'I don't normally.'

'Then maybe you should start. It's good manners, Marie.'

I was about to voice my disagreement when the outer door burst open and heavy footsteps sounded in the kitchen and the hallway. Cory, my younger brother, had arrived home from football practice and was bounding up the stairs. Halfway up, he yelled at my father and asked if he could get a lift to a part of town recognised for its wealth. He was clearly excited. I passed my mother a fleeting glance.

She was hurrying from the room, seemingly wishing to get away from me, when Cory mentioned Benjamin's name.

I chased after her. 'What's going on?'

She stopped abruptly, preventing me from passing through, and told me to sit back down.

I remained in position.

Mum returned to the lounge and shut the door.

'Is Lisa at Benjamin's house?'

'Just let it drop, will you?'

'She is, isn't she?'

I was going to persist with my questions when I heard Cory's bedroom door slam, followed by his pounding feet. Despite my mother's resistance, I weaved past and progressed into the hallway, meeting him en route.

'What you doing here?' he asked.

I frowned. 'Why shouldn't I be here?'

'Wow,' he said, 'she is pissed at you.'

'Who is?'

'You don't even know.' He passed me an amused stare. 'Don't worry, I'll put in a good word for you.'

'What's going on?'

'Lisa and Benji are having a barbeque.' He glanced at my father progressing down the stairs, and then followed him to the door. 'All his mates are going to be there. Hot chicks, too!'

'Is Oliver there?'

'Yep, and Cynthia.' He passed outside. 'Pity you laid into her, isn't it?'

I gawped, unable to believe what I was hearing, and watched them leave. How could Lisa have done this to me? I wasn't especially concerned about missing the opportunity to meet Benjamin and his friends; it was more the principle. I knew I had said some terrible things to Lisa, and maybe I did deserve a backlash, but fundamentally, what I had said hadn't been that bad. And we were sisters. Didn't that count for anything?

Mum's hand rested in the small of my back as she guided me to the lounge and pulled me from my contemplations. But I was in no mood for her sympathies and wanted to get out of there. Announcing my departure, I grabbed my handbag from the floor and hurried to the door.

'Marie, think about what you're doing for a second,' Mum said.

I passed her a blank stare.

'Maybe you didn't get her message—have you thought about that. Her decision is not likely to be deliberate. She'll have her reasons, I'm certain of it.'

'She never rings me on the landline, nor would she have left any messages at work. It was deliberate, for sure.'

She held an impassive gaze.

'Don't worry,' I continued. 'I'm not going around there.'

'I'm sure you could if you wanted to. Shall I ring her for the address?'

'I'm not going,' I said determinedly. 'It's clear she doesn't want me intruding her party. Anyway, I have more important things to worry about. Remember Lance Tratton? Well, he's dying... terminal cancer with weeks to live.'

'Oh, Lord! I'm sorry.'

My eyes misted. I filled my lungs with fresh air and forced the block from my throat. 'Some things are more important than barbeques with my sister and her famous boyfriend.'

She laid her hand on my shoulder in a show of support. But I didn't want it and continued from the house to my car.

'Won't you stay for a chat?'

Words evaded me. Fighting my tears, I remembered the promise I'd made to myself to avoid crying and shook my head.

'Okay,' she said gently. 'You know where I am when you're ready.'

I forced a steady breath. 'Please don't tell Lisa. I don't want her knowing right now, or anyone for that matter. I want to deal with this alone.'

'That might not be a good idea.'

'I know what I'm doing.'

'Even so... don't keep it in forever.'

I said I wouldn't and we parted company. Once I had started the car, I put on some music, turned up the volume to drown my thoughts, and travelled home.

A few days later, Lisa called me on my mobile phone. I hadn't been looking forward to seeing her, fearing the wedge between us that was growing with each passing day, and reluctantly answered her call. She told me she had a couple of hours free whilst Benjamin was training and suggested we spent it together. I didn't want her doing me any favours, nor did I want her to feel obliged to fit me into her busy schedule at her convenience, and was reluctant to agree. Nevertheless, when I remembered Lance's suggestion that I should be tolerant, I forced myself to be available. I also reminded myself the importance of family. Perhaps it was time to bury our disagreements.

She was due at the house within half an hour. I wasn't in the mood for dressing up and often felt more comfortable in jeans. However, since I was making an effort, and I knew Lisa would prefer me in a skirt, I reached into my wardrobe, selected one of my favourites, one falling just below the knee with a textured fabric, and matched it with a cream top. Then I touched up my makeup, brushed my hair, and progressed downstairs. Moments later, her car appeared on the road.

I announced my departure to Ebony, who wished me a good time, and I left the house.

Within minutes, we'd arrived at a bar of Lisa's choosing and purchased drinks. Full of exuberance, she chattered non-stop about her relationship with Ben, from his muscular physique and impressive body to his gentle and attentive manner. Clearly, she was besotted.

It surprised me that she didn't stop for one second to consider how I'd disapproved of their relationship. Whilst part of me was grateful since I didn't want our differences to come between us for evermore, another part of me felt irritated by the ease in which she disregarded me. I hadn't made the comments to be spiteful; I had made them out of concern.

I wasn't so naïve to expect her to favour my feelings over her own, but it would have been nice to see that she had given my comments a little consideration. Nonetheless, it was her life, and as Lance had said, I should allow her to have her fun. Determined to do just that, I continued to present an attentive face and listened to her tales as she provided endless examples of Benjamin's perfect body and faultless personality. Yet with each passing comment, it was getting harder to tolerate. When she started to talk about the barbeque and offered me no apology, I could hold back no more.

'Don't you have a conscience?' I said. 'You could at least try to look guilty.'

Lisa's jaw dropped. 'What have I done?'

'Don't give me that,' I hissed. 'You know exactly what you've done. You're not the airhead you make out to be!'

'I... I honestly don't know what you're talking about.'

'The barbeque... my lack of invitation!'

'Oh,' she said and buried her face in her wine glass.

'Well? Don't I deserve an explanation or an apology?'

She presented an innocent expression. 'I didn't think you approved. It... it wasn't deliberate. I... I thought I was doing you a favour.'

If she had been vicious with her words, it would have been easier to tolerate. As it was, it was hard to be angry with her. 'You're convincing, I'll give you that.'

'It's the truth!'

I puffed out. 'I can't be bothered with this any more. All I've ever tried to do is look out for you. Mum and Dad won't say anything. They're far too easy-going with you.'

'They understand what makes me happy. Look at you. You passed your exams and got yourself a decent career, and look at how that has turned out. You're bitter and twisted Marie, and everyone knows it.'

I gulped. I may be a little envious, but I wasn't bitter and twisted. I was looking out for her—trying to do a favour and make her see she was worth more than the bimbo she was trying to be.

Lisa rose to her feet. 'If I want to have a good time, and I choose not to invite you then that's my prerogative. Do you honestly think I'd want you ruining my party?'

'I would not have done that!'

'No? That's not how it seems to me. I get that your life is crappy right now, but I'm not the one to make you feel better because every time I try—like tonight might I add—you somehow see the worst in me.'

'Because that's how you present yourself. You get attention by making yourself look like a victim. You're better than that. Benjamin doesn't love you, he—'

She spun to face me. 'Don't you dare assume you know what Ben thinks about me because you know nothing! You're a jealous bitch, Marie. Lance maybe dying, but that doesn't give you a right to take it out on me!'

My jaw dropped. I covered it with my hand.

'I haven't mentioned it because Mum said not to, and not, might I add, because I'm selfish. But of course, you'll think the worst in me like you always do.' She started away. 'And make your own way home! I've had all I can tolerate for one day. Goodbye!'

Over the subsequent days, I spent time going over what had happened. I didn't believe I deserved to be on the receiving end of Lisa's outburst and tried to remember my accusations and the tone of my voice when we'd spoken. I remembered telling her that she was an airhead and that she presented herself as a victim, and I'd said our parents had gone easy on her, but they were hardly harsh and cutting remarks.

Was there another reason for her sensitivity? Perhaps her relationship with Benjamin wasn't as faultless as she made it out to be. Perhaps she was afraid she'd made a mistake and didn't know how to admit it.

Regardless, I sent her a text apologising for the part I'd played, and within minutes received one back. She admitted to being over-sensitive and voiced her wish for us to forget it. Grateful, I replied accordingly and agreed with her suggestion. However, I wasn't altogether convinced it would happen, and sank back into my seat in my room at the surgery, and gazed at some photos of us on my phone.

They were of happier times, mainly taken at other family functions. We didn't often socialise privately, probably because the six-year age gap prevented us getting into a routine. However, it was something I wanted to do with more regularity in the future, believing it would strengthen our bond. I was considering making the suggestion when a tinkling sound on my phone indicated an incoming message.

It came from Lance and my heart leapt.

He wanted to see me. Wasting no more time, I leapt to my feet, shut down my works computer, and headed home to change.

# Chapter 6

I dashed into my house, made a quick ham, cheese and watercress sandwich, and carried it upstairs to eat it as I changed. I wanted to look nice for Lance, and grabbed a pair of three-quarter length pale pink trousers and a white blouse from my wardrobe and laid them on my bed. Once I'd had a quick wash, I dressed, dabbed a touch of perfume behind my ears, and brushed my hair. Satisfied with my appearance, I donned a pair of flat thong sandals and hurried downstairs. Seventeen minutes later, I arrived at Lance's house and knocked on the door.

He welcomed me inside with a broad smile and the touch of my cheek with his fingertips. Then, having thanked me for visiting, he offered me a drink. I requested a tea, at which point he suggested a green tea and announced it had been the first of the changes he'd made to his diet.

 'Do you like it?' I asked.

'I do actually. What's the theory behind it?'

'I won't bore you with the science, but basically, it contains antioxidants beneficial to fighting cancer. There's one shortened to EGCG that has proven toxic to cancer cells in laboratory experiments. There are claims that it prevents them from spreading. Hopefully, it will kill some too.'

'Great.'

He poured the water into the mugs, gave them a stir, and led the way to the conservatory. It was a lovely evening, and the dipping sun poured through the open patio door. I hadn't paid much notice to the rear garden during my previous visit, as our reunion overwhelmed, but it was pleasant viewing. There were flowering shrubs around the edge of a paved area, an apple tree in the corner, and a lean-to greenhouse set against the garage wall.

'It's peaceful,' I said, 'not like it used to be. I assume the lads next door have grown up and moved out.'

'Yeah, a couple of years ago. I spend a lot of time here now, meditating and listening to the bird sounds. I used to be able to watch the birds feed, but we had to move the feeder.' He regarded me briefly. 'It was attached to one of the branches of our apple tree, but our neighbours at the back complained that the birds made a mess on the other side of the fence.'

'You're kidding me!' I said.

'You'd be surprised what irritates some people. Get a life, I say.'

'Absolutely! I couldn't be stressed over something insignificant.' I paused and sipped my tea. 'So how are you feeling now?'

He nodded. 'Good, actually. Sorry I haven't called sooner.'

'Not at all! You call the shots, okay?'

'I don't want any special favours.'

'And you're not going to get any,' I said quickly. 'I'll jump when you ask me to because I haven't anything else in my life.'

'I don't believe that!'

'According to Lisa, it's definitely true. We had another bust up the other day.' I shared details of my exclusion from the barbeque and our fight at the pub. 'I know I can be a bit forthright at times, but I don't remember saying anything that should have upset her as greatly as it had.'

'Are you sure?'

I grinned. 'Yes, I am. I might not approve of her relationship, but I didn't say anything negative.'

He opened his mouth to speak.

'And before you say it, it wasn't in my tone either. In truth, I was proud of the way I behaved.' I glanced towards him. 'Prior to our argument, I'd spent almost an hour listening to her tales of "adorable Ben". I was actually quite proud of myself and believed I was being supportive, especially given that she never apologised for excluding me from the barbeque.'

'Perhaps she didn't think you knew about it.'

'No, she knew. My brother would have told her. He'd been overjoyed to learn I'd not been invited.'

Lance chuckled. 'Nothing changes then.'

'Sorry,' I mumbled, 'we were supposed to be going through my notes.'

'And I was going to tell you where you might find Taylor.' He paused and studied my strained expression. 'Have you made up with Lisa?'

'We have... for now. I don't mean to go on about her. I'm sorry.'

'Not at all. I love it. It's great being with someone who doesn't tip-toe around me. You treat me like I'm normal.'

'Which you are!'

He grinned. 'Point proven. What specifically don't you like about Benjamin Dashwood?'

'I just think she can do better. She was a natural grade-A student, but she failed her exams because she couldn't be bothered studying. Even at sixteen, she dreamed of marrying someone rich. If she put her mind to it, she could be whatever she wanted. She could even make that kind of money herself, I'm convinced of it.'

'You can't make her into something she doesn't want to be.'

'But she's drifting Lance. Even if Benjamin sticks around for a while, he's not going to persuade her to get an education. He's going to want someone pretty on his arm, someone he can control.'

'He might not be like that.'

'More than likely he will be. He's wealthy, and he's likely to be an alpha male type—very dominant. I doubt he'd approve of his girlfriend displaying her intelligence.'

He passed me an amused smile.

'Have you seen the photos of his ex-girlfriends? Just to convince myself that I was right, I checked him out on the internet. Every single one of them was like a Barbie doll. None of them were career women.'

'They'd be in their teens or early twenties—hardly had a chance.'

'Maybe, but they still weren't that type. Lisa is making herself fit in with the type he likes—she's not being true to herself. Don't forget, I've seen her at other times. She can be studious when she wants to be. I caught her reading books on the history of art once.'

'Really?'

'Like I said, she's bright. She just doesn't apply herself.'

'I still think you should be careful. I used to be narrow-minded and once made a gross assumption about someone. My misjudgements ruined a life.'

I wondered if he was talking about Taylor, as he had previously said that he had made mistakes. However, before I had a chance to ask him, he'd changed the subject onto the documents I'd given him. Unconcerned, I let the conversation continue.

One contained dietary suggestions and included a list of vitamins and minerals, and the foods providing them. Lance told me he had been taking a quality vitamin and mineral supplement for a while, and added that he'd liked the idea of taking an energy and nutrient drink such as mangosteen juice, which he'd started the week before. He said he could already feel the benefits, and whilst I agreed he was more energised than during my last visit, I held a more cautious approach.

'I hope it's worth it,' he said. 'I'm suffering without my Guinness. I thought the benefits of the iron would outweigh the negative effects it was having on my body.'

'I doubt it!'

He grinned. 'It's a pity. Once I thought about it, I had to agree. Getting inebriated probably wouldn't help me at all, so I've cut out all alcohol... oh, and coffee too. I'm a health freak now! Totally obsessed!'

I loved his light-hearted manner and smiled at his comment. He was, by far, the most positive terminally ill patient I'd come across, and I wondered where he found the strength. I decided to ask.

He shrugged. 'Why shouldn't I be?'

I narrowed my gaze, urging him to continue.

'Actually, my improved mood has come since I made the decision to end treatment.'

'But you must have been a bit that way else you wouldn't have raised money for charity.'

'I was, but it's mostly new for me. I think, to be honest, the treatment was wearing me down. I've been panicking about it not working and my life being over.'

'So quitting treatment has helped you come to terms with it?'

'Exactly. Weird, huh?'

'No, I don't think so. Clearly, it's been a release... just what you needed.'

He nodded, remained pensive for a few moments then returned his attention to my notes. 'I've followed your advice and have been doing most of what's in here. I have an abundance of vegetables—which are organic and I mostly eat raw—and...' Smirking, he caught my eye. 'I have wheatgrass juice.'

'It's a great superfood. I'm impressed.'

He smiled. 'I've taken on board everything you've said. I hope I get a star for being your most enthusiastic patient.'

'I'll consider it.'

'I've stopped eating refined sugars—'

'They feed the cancer.'

He nodded, 'and I'm mostly vegetarian and a fan of chickpeas and lentils. I've stopped having processed foods, refined and hydrogenated oils, refined grains and cereals, and dairy products. Bar, of course, cottage cheese. It doesn't leave a lot else does it?'

I grinned. 'I did say it wouldn't be easy. Have you considered taking mushroom supplements, or AHCC, the chemicals taken from fungus?'

'I've already got them—I chose the mushroom supplements.'

'Well done you! They fight tumours and are potent immunity boosters. They also help with weight loss too.'

'Are you implying something?'

'No, I...' I averted my shamed face.

'You'd better not be either. You always said I needed to lose a bit of weight. I did it for you.'

'Well, now I want you fatter.'

'Never satisfied,' Lance said and winked.

His attitude warmed my heart, so much so that I felt my eyes well with tears. I was determined not to let him see me cry the way I had last time, and turned away, blinked a few times, before returning my attention back to my notes. There was much more in there, such as avoiding refined salt and other products such as certain types of nuts. I also recommended herbs and spices, and turmeric in particular, which was another anti-cancer food.

We discussed each pointer briefly before we progressed onto another set of notes detailing the Budwig protocol. It was a system designed by Dr Budwig who was said to have cured patients with a terminal prognosis such as his. I had included such testimonials to generate positivity but highlighted the importance of taking such information lightly. It wasn't a miracle cure for cancer, but I did believe it would increase his quality of life and allow him more time, provided he stayed with it.

'I've read more about it on the internet,' he said. 'Mixing Flaxseed oil with cottage cheese is easy, and it's pleasant too... to my surprise. I have it twice a day—always fresh.'

I smiled, encouraged by his enthusiasm, and told him that it was an important part of the protocol in that it re-energized cells shrinking the tumours and helping the body to heal.

'It's a good job I like it then, isn't it?'

I smiled.

'It may not be a miracle cure, but it's not done me any harm.' He paused briefly. 'Unless it made me sick. What do you think?'

'You might have had a reaction to all the changes or it could have been due to the cancer. If it's the former, it'll just be while your body adjusts.'

'Could it be because I was getting rid of the dead cancer cells?'

I nodded. 'It's a possibility.'

'Then it was worth it.'

'You're certainly looking better. Are you in less pain?'

'Definitely. Especially these last few days.' He flicked through some sheets. 'I'm determined to do whatever I can to improve my immune system and make my body fitter, healthier and stronger, and this is exactly what I needed. I'm not keen on the enemas, though.'

I recommended a coffee enema once a day for a week, progressing to alternate days in the second week, and afterwards, using it only once or twice a week when necessary. The coffee was one of the best ways of detoxifying the liver and reducing pain, but when used over time it depleted the body of minerals.

'Use it with care, won't you?'

He nodded. 'Of course. I'm following all your advice, Marie.'

'Will you be able to start exercising soon?'

'I'm much fitter than I was, but I'm still weak. I'll try to reach half an hour a day soon and hope to go beyond that.' He paused. 'Do you have many patients on this system?'

'I do, but many are not disciplined, not in the long term. Some people start with good intentions but give up after a couple of weeks. I accept it's hard—I'm sure you've had trouble avoiding some of your favourite foods and I'm not just talking about the alcohol.'

'To be honest, I've not had much trouble at all. Madge is good in the kitchen and is trying to be inventive. In fact, she's following it too for the majority of the time. She thinks it'll be a good preventative measure.'

I nodded approvingly and told him I was glad he was taking everything seriously. I wanted to add that I was keen to see his life extended by a few years, but I avoided speaking out for fear of becoming weepy again. I also wanted to keep a respectable distance from him, fearing, if not, my love for him may reach an uncontrollable level and make our relationship uncomfortable.

I didn't believe those feelings would be reciprocated, and had a strong sense a reunion with Taylor was the more probable path his life would take. It was crazy to believe I was even considering trying to reunite them, and whilst I was desperate to learn of his wrongdoing and gross misjudgement, I was feeling selfish and wanted some fun.

'Remember when we used to sing along to tracks in your bedroom,' I said. 'We'd find songs with both male and female parts and have such a laugh.'

A glint formed in his eyes. 'Fancy doing it again?'

I nodded and followed him upstairs. The last thing I wanted to be was his irritating nurse who was forever checking his ability to carry out his actions. Not only would such behaviour not go down well with Lance, but also he was more than capable of managing his own body and making decisions.

Entering his bedroom, as I glanced at the double bed against the wall, the wardrobe system at the far side, and his computer desk by the door, memories of our past life together flashed into my thoughts. There had been few changes over the years. Even the circular rug remained, and it appeared cleaned and refreshed.

'Where's the beanbag?' I said, forgetting my restraint

He grinned, causing my blushes to surface, and pointed at the window.

We had made love on it numerous times, often in the centre of the room, and often whilst Madge was in the room below. We had to be silent, and frequently, as I squealed with delight, he clamped shut my mouth. His laughter had been infectious and soon we were giggling and moaning without care.

'I'm sure Madge knew what we'd been doing,' he said. 'There was no way she wouldn't have heard you.'

'You weren't exactly silent!'

'Maybe not.' He dropped into a chair at his desk. 'Did I ever tell you she once found a pair of your knickers downstairs?'

'What!' My head spun with reflections of our time together. 'Oh, Lord! I'd forgotten about that. When I couldn't find them, I borrowed some of your undies to go home in.'

'You looked sexy in them too.'

'How could I have forgotten about that?' I paused, studying his amusement. 'What did she say?'

'Nothing. She washed them and placed them on my bed with my things.'

I raised my hands to my cheeks. 'That is so embarrassing. Why didn't you tell me?'

He shrugged. 'I can't remember. Do you remember why she'd found them?'

'How could I forget?'

We'd been making love downstairs when we saw her car appear in the driveway. We didn't have time to dress, and grabbed our clothes and ran upstairs as fast as we were able.

 'We were lucky we heard her arrive,' I said. 'If we hadn't...' My voice trailed. 'That would have been embarrassing.'

'I'm glad she came in the house by the rear door. If she'd come in the front way, she'd have seen my bare backside running up the stairs.'

'Not a pleasant sight,' I teased.

Our eyes locked and my heart pounded with love. They were beautiful times, and times I had never been able to forget. How could something so perfect end so abruptly? Even now, years on, our separation didn't make sense. Whilst I had been desperately in love, Lance had been troubled by his past and unable to give me his heart. It seemed wrong and unfair, and something I never got over.

'Play some music,' I said softly.

Doing as instructed, he turned his back and extended his arm to his music system housing his MP3 player. I was desperate to see his expression to learn if he felt any of the mix of emotions I was experiencing, yet at the same time, a part of me didn't wish to know. Whilst our reunion filled my heart with joy, an uncontrollable pain consumed me as I struggled to tolerate our situation. It was bad enough that he had so little time left in this world; it was worse to consider that he seemed to want to spend it with Taylor.

I blocked it from my mind. I had to focus on the moment. There was no point in worrying about tomorrow. It was wasted energy. I must enjoy what was before me and that included grasping an opportunity to have fun with Lance.

The music sounded and the introduction played. I thought I recognised the song as one of our favourites, but I wasn't certain. When Lance spun around and there was a glimmer in his eyes, I knew I was right.

'Oh, my word! Not "I Got You, Babe, Sonny and Cher".'

'Do you remember the words?'

'I don't know if I do.'

He picked up a hairbrush from a dressing table and threw it towards me. 'Come stand beside me then.'

I leapt to my feet and did as instructed. Lance picked up a spray of deodorant, restarted the track and counted us in. I was a bit nervous, but we soon got into a rhythm and played the parts beautifully. Lance stopped a couple of times to get his breath or to clear his throat, but it didn't matter. I acted out the part of Cher good enough for the both of us

By the end, we collapsed on the bed and burst into laughter.

'That was such fun,' I said.

He leant back, supporting his body with his arm and steadied his breathing. I could tell it had taken a lot of energy out of him, but I was determined not to draw attention to his poor state of health. Instead, I jumped to my feet to check what other tracks we could sing and selected another.

'What is it?' he asked.

'You'll have to guess.' I said, and stood on the rug with my hairbrush. 'Ready?'

He rose to his feet and stood beside me.

When the track started, he started to chuckle. It was another of my favourites and one we had sung to many times in the past. It was, '(I've Had) The Time Of My Life by Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes.'

We sang, playing our parts. It was difficult keeping a straight face, especially when our eyes locked, something that often caused us to collapse in a heap of laughter. When the end came, and after we'd had a rest on his bed, he disappeared from the room.

At first, I was concerned he was rushing to the bathroom to be sick or something similar. But then I heard him descend the stairs to speak to Madge. Upon hearing the light-hearted sounds of their voices, I was able to relax and kicked off my thong sandals, shimmied backwards on his bed, and leant against the headrest.

He appeared a couple of minutes later wearing a woman's wig and with one of Madge's skirts over the top of his pants.

I burst into laughter. Lance chuckled too, although he was more restrained than I was, and tried to make out it was an everyday occurrence. Once we had settled down and our silliness subsided, we took our positions on the mat and Lance started another track. This time, however, I had to imitate the male voice and tried to sound deep, and Lance played the woman and sang high-pitched.

It was hilarious. Madge recorded us on Lance's phone, which made us sillier for a while, and it took a few attempts for us to calm our giggles. Eventually, we succeeded and progressed through the track in a vaguely orderly fashion.

By the time we'd finished, my stomach ached with laughter and I flopped back onto Lance's bed. Lance lay beside me, clutched my hand and kissed the top of my head.

'That was such fun,' I said, staring at the ceiling.

He did not respond.

When I glimpsed at him, his eyes were closed and his body was still. Clearly, it had taken a lot out of him, so I decided to let him rest. Once I had crept from the bed, I wrapped the blanket around him and leant to his ear.

'I'll let you sleep,' I whispered. 'I'll call you tomorrow.'

He touched my hand. 'Don't go.'

My pulse quickened and my needs soared. I wanted nothing more than to spend every waking minute with Lance and was desperate to agree. But I also knew there was a fine balance between having a healthy amount of fun and overdoing it.

'Please,' he said, opening his eyes. 'Just give me a few minutes.'

'I'll go sit downstairs for a while. But if you want to sleep Lance, you do, okay? Don't worry about me.'

'Thank you,' he murmured. 'You're the best.'

I progressed downstairs and joined Madge in the lounge.

'He's resting,' I said. 'I told him I would go, but he insisted I stayed. I will for a while.'

'That was a lot of fun. You make him very happy.'

I slumped into the armchair and folded my arms. 'He makes me happy too. I just wish he'd contacted me sooner.'

She passed me an understanding glance then gazed at the television. I wasn't sure if she was watching the programme or not. However, since I suddenly felt overwhelmed with sadness, I was grateful for her silence and stared into space.

Madge must have noticed my change of mood as after a few minutes, she caught my eye. 'Being around him must be hard for you.'

'In some ways, it's the easiest thing in the world. However, when I start thinking about what he's going through I'd rather be anywhere else but where I am. Is that selfish?'

'Not at all—perfectly normal if you ask me.'

'I wish he'd told me about his cancer sooner. I feel short-changed, especially since it's clear how well we still get on.'

'I think he regrets it too.'

'Really?'

She nodded. 'He said so a few weeks ago when he decided to contact you. I got the impression if it wasn't for the cancer then a reunion would have been on the cards.'

Excited and hopeful, I leant forward, my eyes brightening. 'But he loves Taylor.'

'He thinks he does. My guess is that had he not become ill, he would have sorted those feelings out.'

'As in gone back to her?'

'No, I don't think so. I was thinking more that he'd have returned to you.'

After a couple more exchanges, I got the distinct impression she didn't like Taylor. I wasn't going to try to drag it out of her; instead, I told her of Lance's request that I found her and added that he had unfinished business to deal with. I wanted to determine if she knew any more than I did, and whilst she was equally ignorant, she reiterated that it might be in everyone's best interest if he got back in touch with her, believing that it was possible that it was causing him stress, something he didn't need in his current state. I was inclined to agree and decided I needed to track Taylor down as soon as possible.

'You have to trust him,' Madge said.

I nodded and glanced at the time. To my surprise half an hour had passed. I decided to leave.

'Please tell Lance to call me.'

She said she would.

'Can you also tell him I want to start looking for Taylor as soon as possible and that I'll need some information?'

'Are you certain about this?' she asked.

I exhaled a taut breath of air. 'I have to do it. It matters to him.'

As she guided me to the door, her expression displayed her admiration. I wasn't certain I was worthy of her silent praise, as I was acting, at least in part, out of self-interest. Even though I knew Lance's remaining time in this world was short, I was desperate to be the one spending that time with him. The only way I could do that was by allowing him to confront the demons of his past.

I may be a little crazy and probably was. Why else would I be doing everything in my power to carve the way for a dying man to fall in love with me? We'd never have longevity, we may not even have a year, but what time we had together would be worthwhile and we would make certain it would count. The worst days of my life after his death may be looming, but what we had before that could be my best days. I was determined to make it happen, and feeling positive, returned home to wait for his call.

# Chapter 7

I received a call from Lance early the following day. He was regretful to have fallen asleep and suggested I met him later in the afternoon in the city. He had arranged a charity book sale, and whilst he was going to be there for some of the time, a team of volunteers were carrying out the majority of the work, allowing him to depart.

When I arrived at our agreed location, I struggled to find a place to park and travelled up and down the nearby streets searching for a spot. I decided a football match was taking place at the nearby stadium and wished I'd opted to travel by public transport. Since I hadn't, I had no choice but to be persistent and eventually caught sight of someone leaving. I drove closer, waited for them to vacate the spot then reversed into the space.

Walking to the church hall, my excitement built. Despite my short delay, I arrived sooner than our agreed time, an intentional decision to allow me time to peruse the books. It was a medium-sized room with tables around the edge and a few in the middle. The books were in categories; there was a table for antiques and first editions, and others for hobbies, history and so on. Fiction books were similarly arranged with romance occupying a couple of large tables, crime another, and general fiction further away.

The effort gone into making the day happen was impressive, and the number of books up for sale equally so. It included those published within the last couple of years to others that were decades old. Taking my time whilst periodically glancing around for Lance, I scanned the books looking for purchases. I was an avid reader and grew increasingly excited by my finds, and soon filled a bag.

In other circumstances, I would have progressed around the room again, but Lance's absence was becoming an increasing concern, and I feared for his health. Unable to see him, and believing it would be easy to have missed a call given the noise, I reached into my bag for my phone.

I'd missed no calls, deepening my fear and causing me to glance blindly through the crowd.

A hand touched my upper back. 'Are you looking for someone?'

I spun around about to question the man's interference when I realised it was Lance and he was without his wig.

'I...' I was lost for words. 'I didn't recognise you.'

He grinned. 'I don't like wearing it. Do you mind?'

'Of course not! I quite like bald men. It's sexy.'

'Hmm. I like that thought.'

I studied his shiny head. 'Honestly, it suits you. It was a shock, that's all. You look different.'

He passed me an understanding glance and gazed at my bag. 'I see you've made a few purchases.'

'I have, mainly fiction, but I've bought a book on popular music too.'

He smiled.

'You've done a brilliant job. You'll need to keep it open for a month to sell all this lot!'

He grinned. 'There's more in the back.'

'What are you going to do with it all?'

He told me that the sale was continuing for the weekend, and providing all the books were stored within their categories, preparing for coming events would be minimal. 'Only new donations need pricing and sorting.'

'How long have you been doing this?'

'A couple of years. I did it myself at the start, but it's grown since then making it impractical.'

'I can see. How much do you expect to make?'

'A few hundred pounds.'

'That's impressive.'

'Each day, that is. Maybe a lot more than that, it all depends on turnout and what else is going on in the city.'

'How does the football match affect you?'

'It's weird, but if anything, it helps. Some people pop in afterwards. It's never had a detrimental effect.'

'I can't believe I've never heard about it.'

He smirked. 'Then you've been walking around blind. Shall we leave?'

'Are you sure you should?'

'They're fine without me, and besides, I'm going to be here all day tomorrow.' He guided me through the throng and stopped at the doorway. 'Spending time with you is more important.'

I smiled. 'I had a lot of fun last night. I was so glad you called.'

'Me too. I'm sorry I fell asleep. I was annoyed with myself.'

'You shouldn't be. And I would have left soon anyway.'

'I guess.' He folded his arms. 'How long did you stop?'

'A little while. I had a chat with Madge. She's nicer than I remember... easy to talk to.'

'She's great, isn't she?' His expression turned serious. 'She said you mentioned the search for Taylor.'

My body tightened. I knew it was something we needed to discuss, but at the same time, I wasn't keen to do so. Learning of the depth of the love he felt for her would undoubtedly break my heart.

'Are you sure you don't mind?' he asked.

'Of course not. I said I would.'

'Even so, it seems a bit cheeky.' He rubbed the side of his head. 'There's no one else I can trust with what happened.'

A warm sense of pride rippled through my body, deepening my desire to help him with his quest. 'I'm glad you feel that way. And it was over between us a long time ago Lance.'

'If you're sure.'

'I am,' I said and stepped outside. 'Now, where do you fancy going? I have my car.'

'There's an autumn fete going on close to home. Do you fancy popping in there?'

I didn't care what we did providing I was with Lance, and nodded my agreement and started our short journey back to my car. During the last forty-five minutes, the pavement had filled with people making their way to the football stadium, with many wearing the local team colours and voicing their exuberance. I felt a little out of place striding alongside Lance and increased my pace to make a quick escape. However, when I did so, he started to puff, which turned into a cough. It highlighted the weakness of his body, instigating a moment of sadness.

I looked at my feet. It was difficult to determine how Lance's illness would progress and how it would ultimately beat him. Would the end be sudden and relatively unexpected, or would he get progressively weaker and be bed-ridden for weeks prior to the event? Either way, it was a terrible thought, and I longed to eradicate it from my mind. Given he was by my side and struggling to make headway and gasping for breath, it was a difficult task.

'I should have brought the car around,' I said.

He shot me a harsh stare. 'No favours, okay?'

'That's silly. You can't stop me from helping you.'

'I can and I will. If I want help, I'll ask for it. Until then, you'll treat me like everyone else.'

I frowned. I understood the reason behind his comment, but it wasn't going to be easy. Was there any harm in helping him as and when I could? It was common sense, surely.

'I'm going to get fitter, Marie, and the only way I can do that is by pushing myself.'

I opened my mouth to speak. I had considered telling him that he may push himself to breaking point, but Lance got in first and told me that I shouldn't try to stop him. In truth, I was grateful; my negativity wouldn't have helped at all.

'I firmly believe it's a case of mind over matter,' he said.

'You're certainly determined, I'll give you that.'

'I've glad you've noticed.'

We reached a newsagent shop on the corner, weaved past a few loitering individuals, and continued along the street, away from those progressing to the stadium. It was liberating having space around us and I felt less constricted. Lance must have felt it too, as he quickened his pace.

A voice called out my name.

I glanced back. Lisa was trotting towards us wearing the local team colours. She had never been to a football match before, nor had she ever shown interest in any on television, yet now it appeared she was a fan.

'Oh my God, Lance! Is it really you?'

I passed her a harsh stare, willing her to either engage her brain or still her voice. She paid me no attention.

'I don't look that different, do I?' he said. 'Don't you like the new hairstyle? Marie thinks it's sexy.'

'What?' she said and passed me a curious stare.

I did not respond.

'You looked much better with hair. Can't you grow it back?'

'I quite like it.'

'It's not you. It makes you look much older.' She held her gaze in a studying pose. 'To be honest, I'm surprised you're up and about. When I heard you were... you know... I expected you to be bed-ridden.'

'Only on bad days.'

'So you have good days? That's amazing. I didn't expect that.'

He did not reply.

'You must be taking a lot out of Marie because she's been a pain in the backside since you've been back in touch.'

I was incensed. 'Lisa!'

'Well, it's true! You have. You've been more than a bit unfair to me... even Mum said so, and she doesn't side with me that often.'

I gawped, my accusations on the tip of my tongue. How could she be so rude, and not just to me but Lance too? He had enough to deal with without my blunt sister adding to his problems.

'Don't worry,' she said, glancing fleetingly at her companion. 'I forgive you.'

Dismayed, I shook my head. 'Let's go,' I said to Lance.

'Good luck Lance,' Lisa said. 'I hope it goes well.'

I shot her a harsh stare. I could tell from the look of surprise on her face that she wasn't being intentionally rude. But it was no excuse for her lack of tact and her suggestion that dying could somehow go well. She wasn't a child and had a modicum of intelligence, even though she seemed to prefer to keep it buried.

'What's wrong now?' she squealed.

I couldn't be bothered with providing her with an explanation, and puffed out and started away. Lisa did too, and moments later, and keeping my gaze fixed on my footfalls, I apologised to Lance for her bluntness.

'It's quite refreshing,' he said in a chirpy voice.

I was stunned and spun to check his expression.

'She didn't need to call us back,' he continued in a serious tone. 'It was nice. Some people see me and walk away, and many of those who talk to me, end up apologising after every sentence. They regret asking me how I am, having said it as a matter of course, and sometimes they forget what I'm going through and start talking about their future or something age-related. It doesn't bother me, but when they realise what they've done, it embarrasses them and that makes things awkward.'

'That's awful. I'm so sorry.'

'Don't be.' He passed me a warm glance. 'I'll still have a future Marie. It might not be the same as yours, but I am determined to enjoy it. If we cram in a lot more hours like last night, I'll die a happy man.'

I told him I would do my best, and opened the car doors and we climbed inside. Nevertheless, as we made our way out of the city, Lisa's comments criticising my behaviour, a consequence of Lance reappearing in my life, dominated my thoughts. I didn't want him thinking he had caused my low mood and put him straight.

Lance tensed. 'I hope you're telling the truth because I don't want to be the cause of you and Lisa falling out.'

'Don't flatter yourself!' I said in a jovial voice. 'Our arguments started before we got back in touch. Don't you remember me mentioning Benjamin Dashwood at our first meeting?'

'Yeah, sorry.'

'And for the record, I briefly mentioned your condition to my mother, but I told her not to mention it to Lisa. She'd no right to say anything.'

'Not everyone can keep secrets.'

'No, I was irritated at first, but as you keep saying, some things are not worth bothering about.'

'Quite right! You're learning.'

I smiled, and feeling determined to brighten the mood since I had brought it to a new low, I reflected on our past and the jovial ways in which we once passed time. We'd had a number of ways of killing time in long car journey's, from singing and playing word games such as 'I spy', to imitating famous people with strong accents. I reminded him of the latter and asked him for his best impressions.

'I haven't done any for years. I'm out of practice.'

'Spoilsport!'

'How about I do an accent instead?'

I agreed, and soon we were both doing our best Scottish, Welsh, American and Australian accidents. Lance was particularly good at the Scottish accent, but when he tried to do an accent of a Scottish pirate, he failed and burst into laughter.

It was refreshing and cleansing, and we soon arrived at the fete close to his home.

Exiting the car, I passed him a broad smile.

'You always knew how to make me smile,' he said. 'I've missed this.'

'Me too,' I whispered, enjoying a warm tingling feeling spreading through my insides. 'But you're not getting away with avoiding your impressions.'

'What about you? I seem to recall you doing a good Margaret Thatcher impression once.'

'It's a bit dated, don't you think?'

'It was dated six years ago, but that didn't stop you.'

I chuckled. 'We'll see.'

We progressed through the entrance of the recreation area passing a small empty stage. According to a sign, we had missed an assortment of activities, including a display by a group of Zumba dancers and a dancing dog. Whilst I wouldn't have minded hanging around, I wasn't sure of Lance's plans and wondered if he should be returning home for a light meal sometime soon.

It was important for him to eat little and often. According to our discussion the night before, he had adopted a regimented approach. If our protocol was going to work, he needed to continue in such a manner for weeks and months to come. He mustn't allow me or anything else to distract him from his routine.

I didn't want to act as his nurse and would need a more subtle approach in order to succeed. For the moment, though, I let my concern pass, and followed his trail and progressed around the stalls.

Some were games stalls and others sold goods. In order to maintain our upbeat mood, I suggested we tried our luck at throwing a hoop around a bottle. Lance agreed, and I went first. My first hoop hit the side of the tent wall. My second was marginally better, and whilst I guided it in a straight line, I threw it too aggressively and it hit the backboard. My third try hit the target but failed to loop over the bottle. We squealed our frustration. Lance did better, but he too failed. Disappointed, we moved away.

'Hey, look,' he said. 'Over there!'

I followed his gaze. At the far end of the row of stalls was a hall of mirrors tent. A smile widened my face.

'I've always wanted to do that!' he said. 'Come on!'

With an unexpected energy, he hurried forward, weaving around children, elderly couples, and a boy on crutches. Then, we paid our fees and progressed inside to the row of mirrors. The first extended our height but narrowed our bodies. At first, my reflection horrified me, but when I saw Lance sniggering at my rear, I was inclined to agree with him. It wasn't a moment for being serious; it was a moment for fun.

We progressed around the room, pulling faces and making different poses and roared with laughter at the outcome. When we came face to face with a reflection that added a little weight, my amusement left me. Horrified by my appearance, I stepped from view.

Lance was less concerned. He appeared less emaciated and more like the man I'd fallen in love with years before, and delight crept onto his face. Determined to make the most of the moment, he requested I took a photograph.

It turned out well.

'That's one for my blog,' he said, studying the image on his phone. 'I'll tell the world it's the effect you're having on me.'

'Jeez, thanks!'

'Well, you did say you wanted me fatter!'

'I love you as you are Lance. Fat or thin!'

As soon as the words left my mouth and his expression stilled, I regretted my comment. I could have retracted my words, but after a moment's contemplation, I decided against it. There was no harm in displaying a little emotion in such circumstances and not since there was no future for us. In addition, I had promised him I would do all I could to reunite him with Taylor. Surely, if anything clarified my position, it was that.

'Don't look stunned,' I said in a forced voice. 'You're my best mate! I'm allowed to care for you!'

He grinned, kissed my cheek, and we strode away.

Another ten minutes later, having progressed around the remaining stalls, we decided we'd had enough and went to his home. I was the first to suggest we discussed Taylor, because I hated any awkwardness between us, yet it wasn't an easy decision. I had dreaded this moment ever since he'd mentioned her weeks before, and now the time had arrived. Forcing myself on, I told myself that once the truth behind his so-called unfinished business was out, it would no longer be a burden.

With my heart pounding and my nerves dancing, I waited for him to start his tale.

# Chapter 8

Lance passed me a tense glance as he reached to his vegetable drink and took a sip. I wanted to encourage him to speak out, but my nervousness dried my throat, silencing my voice. And the longer the silence continued, the worse I became; I folded and unfolded my arms, I twiddled the ends of my hair, and I played with my earring.

'Right,' he said and put his glass on a small table. 'I'm ready.'

I smiled encouragingly.

'Taylor and I met when I was eighteen, at college. We... we were in love. I thought we were going to be together forever.' He passed me a worried glance.

'It's okay, carry on.'

He nodded and gulped. 'I was planning to ask her to marry me that summer and I believed she'd say yes.' His eyes glazed, his body stilled. 'In retrospect, I'm not sure. Our relationship started to fall apart after I spent increasingly more time at her place. Taylor's mother had died years before and she lived with her Dad, Willie Mellor, in a small town called Dunsbridge where I rented a flat. They were close.' He paused. 'I guess it was understandable.'

The doubt in his voice made it sound as though it was a bad thing. Given he had always valued family and tried to develop strong relationships, it was a concerning reaction.

'It's a pity she had no other family,' he continued. 'She had an uncle, Norman Mellor, but...' He shook his head. 'I don't count him—he wouldn't have supported her if the need came.'

'Was he irresponsible?'

He nodded. 'He spent a lot of time at their place, so I knew him, but I didn't like him at all. Taylor knew how I felt, but she didn't agree with me. She was a bit naïve like that—too trusting. And she had many happy memories of him, so I suppose she had seen a better side. All I'd ever seen was his dark side—he either lied or was aggressive towards me.'

'She must have noticed that too, surely. How come she ignored it?'

'He'd change when he was with her and acted like the doting uncle. He was a Jekyll and Hyde character and saved his worst side for me, for when she wasn't around.'

'What was her father like?'

'Friendlier and quieter. Much later on, I believed he must have had some of his brother's traits, but he was careful to present a positive image. He didn't trust me, though. According to him, I asked too many questions. Perhaps that was my mistake, I really don't know.' He passed me a quick glance. 'What would you do if you realised someone was doing something illegal?'

I knew it was a leading question, and whilst I preferred to tell him that I hadn't thought about it, I doubted that would be sufficient; instead, I said it would depend upon what the crime was.

'Could you ever turn a blind eye?'

'If it was a minor offence then maybe I'd try to persuade the person to hand themselves in.'

'And if they refused?'

'I'm not keen on letting people break the law, but neither would I feel comfortable snitching on someone either, so it's difficult to know what I'd do. Of course, if it was a big crime or someone had been hurt, I'd like to believe I'd inform the police.'

'What if your actions were going to affect someone you loved?'

'I assume you're talking about Taylor.'

He nodded. 'We learned her father and uncle were involved in jewellery thefts, and it had been going on for a long while.'

'Taylor must have been gutted.'

'You'd have thought so, wouldn't you? But she didn't say much. Anyway, I learned that they were involved with a gang with a bad reputation. They weren't local, but they hung out in town on occasions. Maybe if I hadn't followed them, and if hadn't prowled around her house, I would have avoided getting involved. But I didn't. I... I had a holier-than-thou attitude and was keen to share what I knew.'

'There's nothing wrong with being a moral person, Lance.' I paused to study his expression. 'What did you do?'

'I'll come to that. The thing was, I didn't question whether I had all the facts, nor did I question the consequences for Taylor should I report them to the police.'

'That's not your fault! Her father and uncle should be the ones feeling guilty, not you.'

He folded his bony arms. 'Maybe, but I instigated it.'

'That's still not your fault. Taylor should have realised it too, at least eventually.'

He didn't respond, and returned his glass to the table and picked at a selection of raw food. He offered me some, and even though it looked appetising, he needed it more than I did and I turned him down.

'Are you sure you don't want to eat?' he asked.

'No. I'll have something later. Thanks, though.'

Sitting in silence, I waited for him to share more of his story. Instead, and with my thoughts spinning with unanswered questions, I watched as he continued with his meal.

I assumed he had shared what he knew with the police. I could understand he cared for Taylor, but surely she would have come to realise the situation he had put her in was not his fault. Worrying about it the way he had seemed to me to be a bit of an over-reaction. There had to be more to it. I feared it had something to do with Willie or Norman Mellor.

I was about to comment when he started to cough. I couldn't tell if it was due to his condition or the result of a small bit of food stuck in his throat. Regardless, he struggled to gain control; his face turned a deep red and globules of blood dripped from his mouth. Desperate to help, I hurried for a glass of water, crouched by his side and encouraged him to take a small sip. After multiple spluttering attempts, he regained control, and leant back against the cushion and shut his eyes.

His breathing was rapid, and after a quick check of the pulse at his wrist, I learned his heartbeat was too. Given his sickly state, I knew he was going to have a higher than average pulse; nonetheless, the speed in which it throbbed was a concern.

'I am still alive,' he said in a slight voice.

Removing the worry from my face, I looked towards him.

'Don't worry about me, please.'

'I'm not worried,' I said brightly. 'You're tough as old boots... clearly.'

'Too right!'

'Now, providing you're up to it, I'd like to learn more about this situation with Taylor.'

'Right,' he said and sipped some water. 'I'd gathered enough evidence to put her father away, and I wanted to tell the police. Unfortunately, I didn't have anything on her uncle. I sensed he was involved, but he was clever and didn't leave a trail.'

'Did Taylor agree?'

'She believed her father was innocent and was dead-set against me taking it further. I reckoned she said it because she couldn't cope with the thought of losing him—effectively he was all she had. But I would have looked after her. In fact, we'd discussed it. We planned to move to Emert Bay at the coast. She was training in pharmaceutics and there was a company there, on the outskirts. It would have been perfect for her.'

'Could that be where she went?'

'Could be. Anyway, I was convinced there was more to her not wanting to grass on her father, and I started to see things that I later came to realise weren't there.' He gulped and looked at his lap. 'I accused her of being involved too.'

'In his stealing activities?'

He nodded. 'When we found things—like a map of a store her father had broken into—she didn't seem surprised. I tried not to think badly of her, but I was from a family with high morals, and she... she had been raised by rogues. I misjudged her, Marie, and I made a terrible accusation.'

'Do you know for certain she wasn't involved?'

'No... but I doubt she was. I knew how her mind ticked. She wouldn't have got involved in something illegal, I'm certain of it.'

'Was she arrested?'

'No—or if she was, she was never mentioned in the news. We'd already split up by then and I'd moved here, so I never found out. I never saw her again.'

'I get that your accusation would have been huge for her, but surely you could have overcome your differences.'

'I offended her,' he said in a panicked voice. 'She knew what I was planning and told me to leave—in no uncertain terms might I add.'

'So you did?'

'Why's that strange?' His voice was frantic. 'I should have trusted her. I didn't, so that was the end of that.'

'Okay, but you've said in the past you made a terrible mistake. I understand you must have hurt her, but surely you apologised at the time and tried to make up to her.'

He glared and refused to reply.

Something else must have happened, something he wasn't willing to share. Otherwise, he would have made a greater effort to track her down. He would have travelled to Dunsbridge and to Emert Bay, and he would have found her and made amends. Why was he asking me to do it now?

I understood he was dying and that he needed closure, but his motives still seemed strange. Was the charade an excuse to see her again, for reasons purely of love? It seemed the most logical explanation.

'Is there something else you're not telling me?' I asked.

'No, of course not,' he said in an offended voice. I just want you to find her, so I can apologise.'

'I understand you want closure, but I'm sure she'll have forgiven you.' I paused and noted the anxiety in his expression. 'Were there other repercussions for her, such as her father blaming her for his imprisonment?'

'I've told you all you need to know,' he said and wiped his sweaty brow. 'Why all the questions? You're either going to help me or not. Which is it to be?'

'I said I would, Lance,' I said and held his gaze.

'Sorry,' he muttered. 'It's been bugging me for years. I need to talk to her.'

'Okay, so how will I find her?' I asked.

'Her father won't be around—as I said, he's in prison—but her uncle might be. I don't want you visiting him. He's dangerous, Marie. Promise me you'll keep your distance.'

'Given I don't know the man or his address it'll be easy.'

He narrowed his gaze.

I sensed the harshness of my tone bothered him, but I felt hurt by his dismissive behaviour and was in no mood to apologise. Instead, I asked him where I should go and who I should seek out. He provided clear replies before reiterating his gratitude. Since there was nothing more I could ascertain, and it was clear he was fatigued, I made my decision to leave.

Driving back home, I remained pensive. Over the course of the last couple of weeks, he had said that he had done a terrible thing, yet despite all he told me, I couldn't determine what that was. He may have misjudged Taylor, but as far as I was concerned, it was not as significant as he implied. Wasn't it something we all did, at some point in our lives? Those that liked us, forgave us. Why hadn't Taylor? And why had they chosen to end what had appeared to be a perfect relationship?

Something else was going on. I was certain of it.

Soon I would start my search for answers. For both of our sakes, I prayed for a positive outcome.

# Chapter 9

It took me close to an hour to drive to Dunsbridge. Before I started my search, I wanted to wander through the town centre and familiarise myself with the place Lance had once called home, so I didn't park at my intended destination. Instead, I found a pay and display car park close to the town centre, and parked there.

I started away and progressed on to the main shopping street that would ultimately take me to the pub in which Taylor's father and uncle frequented, and a little further along Lance's old home. Since it was Sunday, most shops were closed. There were a number of estate agents open, although they were mostly empty. Passing on by, I wondered why they bothered.

There was a double-fronted pub to my left, and another to the right at the other side of the road. Both looked modern, clean and spacious, and places I would potentially visit, but according to Lance, they had not been of Norman and Willie's choosing. Their preferred destination was somewhere to my left, out of view of the main road.

The cobbled street I was to turn into was so narrow that I almost passed it by believing it to be a private driveway. Initially, it seemed a little poky, but I was pleasantly surprised. To my right, a row of quaint shops caught my eye, whilst to my left, there was a public garden with a short walkway. Directly ahead and joined to what appeared to have once been horses' stables was the Royal Oak Pub. Right at the top of the building, close to the roof was a plaque with a date '1730'.

I stepped closer and peered through the windows. It looked shabby within; it was small, dark and dingy, and appeared unwelcoming. Nevertheless, I could see why Norman and Willie would have chosen it as the location for their private chats as it seemed as though it would attract the unrefined and working class.

I continued around the side of the building and found a narrow path at the rear, but the high hedges at either side caused my hesitation. However, when I arrived and realised I had a clear view of the other end, I strode with confidence away from the town centre.

I arrived in a residential area and glanced at the blocks of flats across the road. From what I could determine, they weren't where Lance had resided, but they were similar. His flat was a couple of streets away, up an incline, and whilst I was curious, it wasn't enough to make the distance. Instead, I took the road to my right, which took me to the main road. I knew it would take me back to the town centre, but I had another destination in mind. I wanted to visit a museum café, the place where Taylor had once worked on a part-time basis.

Once there was a break in the traffic, I dashed across the road, walked a short distance up the hill, and entered the woodland track leading into the country estate. At either side of me were majestic trees with tracks leading to ponds, picnic areas and war memorials. In other circumstances, I would have spent time exploring. Instead, I decided to persist with my quest to find Taylor and continued on, ignoring my yearnings.

The museum building arrived in my view. It had once been the home of a Victorian millionaire and textile manufacturer and was complete with furnishings, a collection of dolls and children's toys, and costumes and artefacts. Since I wasn't there for pleasure, I passed through the entrance into the respectfully quiet ambience and went directly to the café.

The room was rectangular with the counter extending the length of one of the walls, and tables with plastic floral cloths spaced throughout. Families and couples occupied about half of the tables, with the majority partaking in an afternoon snack. I decided to do the same, and joined a short queue and purchased a coffee and a fresh cream scone.

As I paid my fees, I initiated a conversation with the assistant and asked about Taylor Mellor. The assistant remembered her well and complimented her cheery expression and easy-going manner

'I need to talk to someone about her—I'm trying to find her. Did you know her well.'

'No, but I know who might be able to help,' she said, glancing to the kitchen at the rear. 'And it's quiet, too, so she should have time to see you. Where are you going to sit?'

I peered into the room and pointed to an unoccupied part, by the window.

'I'll see if Sally can spare you a few minutes.'

'Thank you,' I said.

I carried my tray to the table, positioned myself to face the counter, and gazed through the window at people walking across grassland to and from a section of woodland. Amongst, and heading towards the building was a man pushing a woman in a wheelchair. He stopped, crouched by her side and pointed to something in the trees. Given her head remained tilted to one side and her eyes were glazed, I felt it was fair to assume she wasn't interacting. It was a desperate sight.

They only looked to be in their earlier forties. What had happened to cause the woman to be in such a poor physical state? Was it cancer or some other rotten disease? I considered it likely, and it caused a laden weight to form in my middle.

Sickened by the thought, I averted my eyes to my scone and continued to eat. I dreaded the thought of Lance being in a similar position in weeks to come and feared I wouldn't be able to cope quite as well as the man was doing. Would Lance even expect me to or would Madge care for him in his final days?

A part of me hoped it would be Madge. There again, I was desperate to spend every second with Lance, and knew, given the choice, I would struggle to stay away. Yet I dreaded the thought, and unwillingly imagined him laid in bed, unable to speak and eat, unable to function.

Sighing, my face scrunched. I stared at the table and at the grooves and scratches, and I willed my imagination to desist. Why was this happening to Lance? He was a lovely man, selfless, attentive and considerate, and it didn't seem fair. He had always had a huge desire for life, and I am sure, even if he lived ninety-plus years, he would have filled it to the brim with activities, achievements and experiences.

Needing reassurance of his current state, I reached into my bag for my phone and tapped in a message. 'Having a coffee at the museum café. Hope to speak to someone soon about Taylor. Hope you're okay and selling many books x.'

The swiftness of his reply caused me a rush of joy. 'You're a star! Thank you for doing this. Maybe one day I'll find a way of repaying you.'

'Just keep up with your diet and Budwig protocol. That will be enough.'

'I intend to! Just mixed a batch! Tasty!'

'Are you being sarcastic?'

'Perhaps I've weird taste buds! It's a genuine treat! You should try it.'

'Maybe I will. We should have a charity fun day eating cottage cheese and flaxseed oil.'

'Ha ha. I don't think there'll be many contenders! I think I'm unique.'

'You're not wrong there!' I said, 'and I love you for it!'

There was a pause in the conversation, causing me to ponder my last comment. Even though I thought we'd cleared the air as far my feelings for him were concerned, I wondered if I had gone too far yet again. I wasn't intentionally pressurising him; I needed to unburden myself of my crippling emotions, as for some reason when I told him how much I cared for him, it helped me deal with the devastating sadness I felt surrounding his health.

A message came in on my phone. I rushed to open it up.

'You're unique too,' he said. 'No one makes me smile like you do.'

'Glad to hear it.'

I glanced up and saw the woman at the cash desk chatting with someone and pointing in my direction. I quickly finished my message, telling Lance what was happening, and put it back in my bag. I had just completed my task when Sally arrived, introduced herself and sat on the opposite seat.

I thanked her for finding the time to talk to me.

'I don't think I recognise you,' she said. 'Were you a friend of Taylor's?'

'No. I'm a friend of her ex-boyfriend, Lance Tratton.'

'Right.' She paused. 'And you say you're trying to track her down?'

I nodded. 'It's important to Lance. I was in the area and I said I'd try to help him out. Do you have her contact details?'

She shook her head. 'She shot through years ago without a word. No one knew what happened to her. We had concerns that it was something terrible.'

'Really? It was that serious?'

'She was reported missing to the police, but nothing came of it.' She clasped her hands. 'Of course, we all hope she's all right.'

'Are you suggesting her father or uncle had something to do with her disappearance?'

She shrugged.

'Would they have had a motive?' I pressed.

'Hard to say.' She removed a loose strand of hair from her face. 'I'm surprised Lance wants to talk to Taylor. I heard they had a massive bust-up. Has he told you about it?'

'No, but I wouldn't have expected him to.'

'Are you his girlfriend?'

I tightened and shook my head. I thought I was the one asking the questions, yet it appeared she had an agenda too.

 'From what Taylor said,' she continued, 'Lance could be quite secretive so it's hardly surprising he's being tight-lipped with you. Perhaps he's carrying a guilty secret.'

My pulse quickened. 'Are you implying Lance was responsible for her disappearance?'

'It seems logical.'

'No... he wouldn't. He's not dangerous. He won't be involved... definitely not.'

'You seem certain.'

'I am.' I may not have been aware of the details relating to their bust-up, but I know him well enough to know his capabilities. 'He's a gentleman and not the type of lose his temper or do something rash.'

She held a firm stare. 'Interesting.'

'Why is that interesting?'

'No reason. I just heard that things got nasty between them at the end. It got physical. Don't ask me to elaborate because I don't have the details.' She cast a passing staff member a quick glance. 'Don't you think it strange that he hasn't returned here looking for her?'

I suppose I did. He may have developed cancer, but he would have had healthy moments when he could have tried to track her down. In addition, he must have known of her friends or other people who may have kept in touch with her. Why had he never tried?

My ignorance was infuriating.

'You have your doubts,' she said.

'Not at all! If he had been involved, he wouldn't have decided to look for her. He's clearly innocent of whatever you're implying.'

She held a stern gaze.

'If you ask me, Taylor's disappearance has something to do with her father and uncle.'

'I can't see that being true—they loved her dearly. They may have been a bit rough around the edges, but they wouldn't have hurt her.'

'Unless she'd learned about the thefts they were involved with.'

'It's possible, but I still think they would have trusted her to keep their secret.'

I was inclined to agree, and whilst it was interesting discussing the potential situations surrounding Taylor's decision to leave, it wasn't helping me with my search. 'Is there anyone at all you can think of who might have had contact with her?'

'Have you tried her family?'

I shook my head.

'Her father's in prison and would be difficult to talk to. Her uncle might be able to help, though.'

Memories of Lance warning me against speaking with him hounded my thoughts. Despite my better judgement, I decided to ask where I might find him. She didn't have his address, but she knew roughly where he lived and provided me with directions. I wrote them down, determined to use them only as a last resort.

'There's someone else who she was fond of,' Sally said. 'John Harris-Smith. He was a close friend from university and is back in the area.'

'Where can I find him?'

'He works in a pub not too far from here—The Eagle.' She gave me directions. 'It might be worth visiting—you never know your luck.'

I decided to make the journey and made my way back to my car. I set off feeling upbeat, but by the time I reached my car having spent time mulling over our discussion and pondering what I'd learned, my disappointment mounted. Even if I met with John, I wasn't certain he would be able to tell me anything more than what I already knew, as it seemed that Taylor had made sure she had disappeared without a trace.

Aside from feeling frustrated for Lance, I had concerns of my own. Firstly, there was the niggling doubt that Lance had something to do with Taylor's disappearance, a result of their massive breakup. Secondly, and assuming Taylor was alive, I was concerned by the reasons for her breaking off contact with everyone she cared about. Sally may not have been a particularly close friend, but she had known her well enough to be aware of certain aspects of her life.

A short while later, I parked my car in the public house car park, and feeling a little lacklustre, walked inside. It was a small pub with a bar on the left and a seating area on the right. Aside from one chubby woman standing with two men at a darts board, all the customers were men aged forty upwards.

I walked to the bar. I was about to ask the barman if John was working when a door at the rear opened, and the young man introduced himself to me. Apparently, Sally had warned him of my arrival, and even though his shift had finished, he'd agreed to stay around.

I was grateful. John bought me a fruit juice and guided me to a table in amongst the others. He was an affable man with a warm personality, and he put me at ease. Half an hour later, with him telling me about his wife's private investigative job, and me discussing various aspects of my life as a nurse, I managed to broach the subject of Taylor's disappearance.

'It's been a concern, I admit,' he said.

'Has she been in touch at all?'

'Right back at the start, but not since.'

'Really? That's something.'

He passed me a bemused look.

'Sally implied she was dead. She seemed to think Lance had something to do with it, which of course is ridiculous.'

As his expression hardened, he averted his gaze, looking at his drink. It was a concern, but at the same time, I was determined not to start worrying again. I was even able to convince myself that I was reading too much into it; I didn't know John at all and should not be judging his facial expressions.

He drew my attention. 'Does Lance have any idea where she might have gone?'

'None. They had plans to go to the coast—Emert Bay, I believe there's a big pharmaceutical company there. If I have no luck here, that'll be my next stop.'

'Perhaps he should have sent you there first.'

'Maybe.' I sipped my drink.

'Where is he now?'

I told him about the city in which we resided, but I made certain he was aware that he wanted no contact. To my gratitude, John accepted my comment, and aside from asking if he was okay, which I said he was, he let the moment pass.

'You said Taylor contacted you once,' I said. 'Can I ask what she said?'

'She hinted she was in trouble but wouldn't say why.'

'Was she running from something?'

'Or someone.' He paused and passed me a worried gaze. 'It sounded serious, Marie. I'm not certain she wanted to be found.'

'Did she say anything else?'

He shook his head. 'I respected her decision to stay hidden, at least for a while. I contacted her again, a while later, but the number was disconnected.'

'That's worrying.'

He nodded. 'I assumed she'd got herself a new number, but I agree it is worrying. Have you spoken to her father?'

'No, I could try talking to him. Do you know what prison he's in?'

'I believe it's at Leeds.'

I made a mental note.

'If you want my advice, I'd not go out of your way to find her. Not unless you have a death wish.'

'Why do you say that?'

He leant forward and lowered his voice. 'Shortly after she left, some blokes were after her and Lance. To say they were upset at not finding them is an understatement.'

Shivers rushed through my body. 'Are you serious?'

'Apparently, they have something that doesn't belong to them, something expensive.'

'Something stolen?'

'I'd say so.'

'Oh, Lord. This is not good, is it?'

'Like I said, if I were you, I'd leave well alone.'

'That's all well and good, but what if Lance is the one who has it? It could be the reason he wants to contact her again.'

'My advice would be to give it back then keep a low profile.'

Something over my shoulder caught his attention. Two hefty sixty-something men had entered the pub, and whilst they didn't pay John and me any attention, their appearance concerned my companion, who rose to his feet and guided me outside.

'Who were they?'

'One was Norman Mellor, the other one of his mates.'

Terror gripped my body, and my heart pounded and my body stilled. I sensed I should go leave as quickly as I could, but I couldn't move and stared at the public-house windows with a sense of helplessness

'I think you should go home.' He pulled a beer mat and a pen from his pocket, and scribbled down a phone number. 'Take this, you might need it.'

'Will anyone tell them what we were talking about?'

'I hope not, for both our sakes.'

# Chapter 10

Prior to my visit to Dunsbridge, I had agreed with Lance that I would pop into his house during my journey home. However, as I neared the city perimeter, I decided against it, unsettled by my revelations. I would call him in a couple of hours' time and tell him I would speak to him later in the week. It would give me time to consider our options and process what I was going to say.

I knew Lance would be devastated to learn I had not learned of Taylor's whereabouts, but if I was determined, all hope need not be lost. As I had discussed in Dunsbridge, I could visit Taylor's father in prison or go to the coastal town where they had intended to go. I could even speak to Taylor's uncle, although given what I'd learned that didn't sound like a good idea.

I arrived home to an empty house, made myself a quick meal, a tuna Panini with a side salad and a tea, and placed myself in front of the television. Yet, it failed to be a distraction to my thoughts, with various aspects of the conversations with Sally and John dominating my mind.

Firstly, I considered Lance and Taylor's breakup. Separations were not easy at the best of times, and certainly not when they had expected their relationship to progress to marriage. I wondered, albeit briefly if Taylor had felt the same depth of love as Lance, but quickly, I thrust such pointless thoughts aside. Her feelings were irrelevant to me. I was trying to help Lance and Lance alone, and returned my thoughts to events leading up to their final decision.

I could understand Taylor's horror at Lance's need to tell the police of her father's illegal activities, especially if he had gathered evidence against him, as seemed to have been the case. She must have felt it was a massive betrayal of his trust, and even though she would have known the fault lay with her father since he was the one who had committed the crimes, she needed a scapegoat. Who better to fit that role than Lance? Not only had he wanted her father convicted, but he had also accused her of being involved in the robberies.

Lance's behaviour seemed out of character. I couldn't imagine him make such a huge accusation, but there again, by the time I'd met him, he may have learned his lesson and shielded his damaging thoughts from view.

Despite my contemplations, a gap in my thoughts remained. I didn't want to believe Lance and Taylor's separation was any different to any others, but Sally's implication that their breakup had led to physical violence was strong, and it caused a horrid sensation to stir in my gut. In addition, John had told me that Lance was on someone's wanted list. Was this the reason behind his disappearance from Dunsbridge? Was it also the reason why he had never returned to search for Taylor, the love of his life?

My phone sounded, disrupting my thoughts. When I saw it was Lance, my heart hammered in my chest out of both desire and concern. However, I soon gained control of my emotions, and before he had a chance to speak, I told him I was going to be back later than expected and that I preferred to leave our meeting to another time. To my gratitude, Lance agreed.

My pulse quickened. 'Are you okay? You sound a bit dull.'

'Yeah,' he said in a breathy tone. 'So did you find anything out?'

'Not as yet. I might have news later in the week, as I have another of her friends to speak to... John Harris-Smith.'

'Right.'

'Do you remember him?'

'Yeah, top bloke.'

I decided, given his brief replies, that he was fatigued and struggling to find the energy to converse. Whilst I was desperate to ask him if he had any other symptoms, I had promised myself that I wouldn't be his nurse, nor would I constantly remind him of his illness. Instead, I used his reluctance to speak as an excuse to end our call, and told him I would be in touch as and when I learned something more. Lance agreed, and in a subdued voice, thanked me for my involvement.

'Not a problem,' I said. 'Take care, Lance.'

'Yeah... will do.'

'And remember, live for the day.'

'Perhaps the hour would be more appropriate.'

I hesitated. 'I take it you're feeling bad.'

His voice brightened. 'No. I'm fine. Ignore me. I've probably overdone it. Nothing to worry about.'

Feeling certain it was an act, I held my silence.

'Honestly. It'll take something special to break me.'

Heavy-hearted, I agreed with his comment and we ended the call. The exhaustion in his tone affected me, and gripping the phone, I sank back into the sofa and stared blindly across the room. His change of mood from earlier in the weekend made me reflect on the seriousness of his situation. At any moment, any one of his organs could fail. From what Madge had once said, he was right on the edge of the precipice, with a collapse probable and likely.

A knot formed in my sternum. When I reflected upon our conversations, his energy and his laughter, the end seemed such a long way off. During those times, for brief moments, I even managed to forget his terminal prognosis altogether. Was that how it was for him?

I couldn't imagine how anyone managed to face a terminal prognosis, least of all someone as young and vibrant as Lance. It was bad enough for me, but deep down I knew no matter what happened during the coming weeks and months, I would still be here, and I would find happiness again.

Lance had none of that. He must consider his death constantly and wonder why cancer had selected him. Why had it stolen his chance of creating a family and why it had stopped him from experiencing a lifetime of good and bad experiences?

I couldn't bear the thought of losing him and my chest tightened, my body shook, and my tears welled. But I was determined not to cry. I had promised myself I wouldn't and it was a promise I would keep.

I manage it, just, but it proved to be unbelievably hard.

Over the coming days, I shared a couple of brief exchanges with Lance, but nothing significant. Since we conversed via text, it was difficult to get an insight into his mood and his health, and it remained a concern. I could ask him outright, but since I wasn't willing to pester him, something that would cause him to consider the precarious state of his health, I knew I was going to have to grow used to my ignorance.

I was coping satisfactorily, and unlike the first week after learning of his illness, I was able to carry out my work professionally. Yet, Lance remained at the back of my mind, and I found myself making continuous comparisons to my other patients. I even regretted one of my patients having an improved state of health, something I wasn't proud of. They'd done nothing for themselves and continued to partake in all the things that should theoretically have worsened their condition, and it didn't seem fair. But that was life. The good and the meticulous didn't always win over and above the rest, as well I knew.

I was shutting down my computer, ready to leave, when there was a knock on the door. I was about to ask the person to enter, but when I glanced up, Shona was already standing there, and she had a shocked look on her face.

'Why didn't you tell me about Lance?' she said. 'It's terrible news. I couldn't believe it when I heard. No wonder you've been down.'

I tensed. She may be my closest friend, but I didn't think I'd been displaying any signs of depression, at least not during the last couple of weeks.

She sat on the chair. 'When did you find out?'

'A few weeks ago.'

'How horrid! You must be gutted.'

I forced an emotionless face. 'These things happen. I'm doing all right, and Lance is too... surprisingly.'

'I heard he's given up treatment. Is that true?'

I nodded. 'He found it hard. And actually, he's been much better since he stopped.'

As I continued to share his decisions, her distress and shock remained in her expression and her comments, making it increasingly difficult for me to present a positive expression. I tried to convince myself I was talking about one of my patients and forced myself to keep an emotional distance, but the longer it went on, the harder it became. Then my voice quivered and my eyes misted.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'You really should have told me. You shouldn't be dealing with this alone.'

I glanced up, absorbing the sight of her love and her sympathy, and tried to respond. My emotions choked me of words.

'Has Lisa been there for you?'

I shook my head, wiped away my tears and forced a deep breath. 'It's fine honestly.'

She narrowed her gaze.

'Believe it or not, I am doing okay. And we've had some amazing times. It's like...' I paused, considering my words. 'It's like it used to be.'

'Have you been spending a lot of time together?'

'Some weekends, and we talk a few times during the week. I'd like to see him more often, but he's busy raising money for cancer charities.'

'So that's why you're having a bake sale and afternoon tea.'

I nodded. 'We haven't fixed a date yet, but Lance liked the idea and we hope to go ahead with it soon... probably at his place.'

'It all sounds positive,' she said.

'There's no point in being any other way. He knows his body could give up at any second, so when's he's having a good day, he's determined to enjoy it.'

'Has he a bucket list?'

I nodded. 'He's done a bit of travelling over the last few years, and he's been to concerts and sporting events, things like that, but he's not too bothered any more. He likes being at home and being around the people that are important to him.'

She cast me a contemplative gaze.

'He is doing okay. Most people think being terminal means been bed-ridden, but as you well know, it doesn't. People can be terminal for years before they die, and they function normally. Lance looks ill, but if you didn't know him and you saw his zest for life, you'd not be certain of what he's going through.'

'It's sad, though, isn't it?'

I passed her a blank stare.

'You're amazingly strong. I can't believe you've kept this to yourself.'

'I wasn't deliberately avoiding telling you. It was just easier this way.'

'It wasn't a criticism.' She glanced at the clock. 'Do you want me to come back to your place? I wasn't planning on doing anything this evening and Justin won't mind me returning home late.'

Her suggestion was appealing. I knew both Ebony and Kelly were working until late and that I would be home alone and was without plans, and willingly agreed. Whilst she made a quick call to her partner, I switched off the computer and returned some paperwork to its relevant location in a cupboard.

Shona turned to face me. 'I'm ready.'

I grabbed my bag to leave when my phone sounded. It was Lance's landline number, and my pulse quickened, my anxieties rising.

'I have to get this,' I said and answered my phone.

'Hello Marie, it's Madge. I wasn't sure if I should call you. Have you spoken to Lance recently?'

'A couple of days ago. Has something happened?'

'No he's fine... well, kind of. That's why I'm calling. When are you next visiting him?'

'I asked him when would be convenient a few days ago. He said he'd get back to me.'

'Could you ask him again? I think he needs to see you.'

I pressed my hand to my heart and passed Shona a worried look. 'I will. W-what's going on?'

She heaved a sigh. 'I don't like talking about him behind his back. You won't tell him I've called, will you?'

'No,' I said cautiously. 'Not if you don't want me to.'

'He had a fantastic time you when he last saw you. I haven't seen him so happy for ages.'

'That's a good thing, isn't it?'

'Of course, but afterwards... I thought he was just tired, but I don't think he was. He... he seemed depressed.'

'I wondered the same. I spoke to him after I'd made the trip to try to find Taylor. He wasn't his usual chirpy self.'

'He's normally good at blocking his emotions.'

'So he's not been blocking them out with you?'

'He has... but when he thinks I'm not watching, his mood changes. I accept what he's going through is tough, and I doubt I'd be able to smile as often as he does...' Her voice drifted. 'I'd just like to see him happy again.'

Quickly, I contemplated her request. I felt honoured in that she believed I would improve his mood but simultaneously feared something I had done or something relating to Taylor had caused him to slip into a depressed state. If I went to visit him, could it cause him to deteriorate further? Since it was a question with no answer, I reminded myself that Madge wouldn't have called me without reason, and I agreed to her request to fix a date.

'And you won't tell him I pressured you?' she said.

'You've not pressured me. But no I won't.'

'Thank you, Marie.'

'Not a problem,' I said and ended to call and turned to Shona.

'What was all that about?' she asked.

'It was Madge, Lance's aunt. Lance is a bit down and she's urging me to visit.'

'So are you going to?'

I nodded. 'I'll call him later.'

'She must think you're a good influence.'

I swung my handbag over my shoulder and encouraged her from the room. 'She said how happy he was after our last visit. Unfortunately, he became depressed the next day.'

Shona grinned. 'He must really like you.'

I narrowed my gaze. 'How do you work that one out?'

'He's realised what he's going to miss when his time's up.'

Such emotions were familiar to me and my heart weighted, my distress aroused. Even if he felt the same way about me as I did about him, our time together would be incredibly short; exploring those feelings wouldn't be worthwhile.

'Who's Taylor?' she asked.

Stepping into the car park, I passed her a quick glance. 'His ex-girlfriend. Long story.'

'I have missed a lot. Did I hear you say you've been looking for her?'

I nodded. 'More fool me.'

She did not respond.

'He needs closure. I'll fill you in back home.'

'Fancy getting a bite on the way?'

 I nodded. 'Eat in or take-out?'

We agreed to purchase a take-out and made our way across the city to the Italian of our choice. Ten minutes after our arrival, we left the shop with pizzas and continued to my home. I was a wonderful having Shona with me, and I looked forward to an evening of girly chatter. I'd missed her deeply; I'd missed the time we had spent together, making meals, chatting easily in front of the television, and upon waking in the morning.

I understand she'd moved on with her life, and I was pleased for her. However, a part of me couldn't help feel envious and left behind. Whilst her life was progressing through a positive phase in her life, mine was going through one of the hardest phases I was likely to have. It was a sad reality, and not something I wanted to reflect on.

We exited our cars.

'Thanks for coming over,' I said. 'I've missed this.'

'Me too. I should have made more time for you, I'm sorry.'

'It's not your fault. I could have made more of an effort too.'

She smiled, grabbed her bags from the passenger seat, and followed me to the door.

I was fiddling in my bag for my key when Shona let out an exclamation. The glass panel in the door had been smashed, causing my heart to leap and a squeal escaped my mouth. Instinctively, I reached for a steadying hand and stared at the door.

I couldn't function and couldn't think of what to do, and continued to stare, my mouth agape and my legs weakening beneath me. To my gratitude, Shona took control and opened the door. I was terrified that someone was still inside, and remained tight at her rear as she stepped through the door.

It was a horrible scene. Contents of drawers and cupboards were on the floor, cushions scattered, and pictures and photos that had been on the walls were smashed into bits. It was a horrible invasion of privacy and my stomach churned causing a sickly feeling to rise to my mouth. Shona noticed my fragile state and guided me to a seat as she progressed through the house.

I remained in position, quaking and cold with my arms wrapped around my middle, and gasping for breath. I had never experienced anything quite as terrible before, and moaned and squealed my distress.

Then it struck.

Quickly, aware of Shona's footsteps, I spun back around.

'You'll need to have a better check,' she said, 'but it doesn't seem that anything has been taken.'

'There won't be,' I whimpered. 'I know who's done this. I was warned away.'

She cast me a worried glance.

'It's someone from Lance's past. I've stirred something terrible up.'

* * *

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# H A Dawson - Catalogue 1

####

#### Girl On A Train (Walking The Pendulum)

##### Main Character:- Megan Armstrong

##### Megan can no longer endure the mental torture. Despite the consequences she moves away from her hometown. As the train draws closer to her destination she collapses drowned by waves of intense hallucinations. The physical effects are temporary, exaggerating her already stressed mental state. What is she to do? Megan does not recognise the vague faces and has no recollection of the violence that ensues. Is this to become her fate?

#####

#### Beds of Rusty Nails (One Big Lie)

##### Main Character:- Leanne Stark

##### Decades have past since Leanne's grandmother inherited a vast house after a fatal shooting. These events have remained a tight secret, never broached nor discussed. Leanne grows up believing her mother is dead, that is, until her grandmother dies. She is confounded by the protracted deception, and a gnawing sense of betrayal. The consequences of her grandmother's actions span generations; the locals struggle with the emerging truth; greed, death, and revenge linger. Desperate for consolation Leanne sets herself a quest to uncover this mysterious past. For professional backup, she engages the successful team of Luke Adams and Imogen Morrison.

#### Crossing Forbidden Margins(Silent Screams)

#####

##### Main Character:- Brittany Handley

##### Brittany lives in a state of limbo, her life seems to be shortening at a terrifying pace, she urgently needs a kidney transplant. Michelle her mother is due for release from prison, but why has she avoided any contact with Brittany. The pressure's mounting, close to it's limits, amidst some very suspicious behaviour from hospital staff. Is there some unscrupulous scheming in these hospital corridors?

####

#### Stumbling In A Smoky Haze

##### Main Character :- Jade Horton

##### Jade's experiences amounted to nothing when a new torment crashed into her comfortable life.  Someone knew her intimately, but she hadn't any clues to this person's identity. It seemed impossible for a stranger to gather such extensive knowledge of her life history, it was the threat of a stalker that reinforced her anxieties.

##### Jade's past has been turbulent, she suffers from a form of amnesia, she wishes her memory would unlock and solve all the issues that have accumulated through the years. She's petrified of every situation she can not control, and now her existence is in the "path of a stampeding herd of elephants"

##### Jade had attended school with Luke Adams, now she seeks his help, Imogen Morrison proves herself to be indispensable in a case that puts pressure on everyone connected with Jade. People may resort to extreme measures to gain attention even "torture" no one could have predicted the impact.

##### "The more you contrive to conceal, the greater the possibility it will be revealed"

### Withering Truth

A family becomes a target for threats. Ominous messages indicate someone has knowledge about some distasteful facts linked to the holocaust. A child has already died what else has the"enemy" planned to destroy innocent lives?

#####

##### For more book information Click/Tap Catalogue 2

###

#

# H A Dawson - Catalogue 2

#### Drowned By Distant Murmurs

##### A heart wrenching mystery recounting the married life of Catherine, an isolated woman from the early 20th century, burdened by an indifferent husband, child deaths, accusations, a disbelieving family, with the only moral support stemming from her modern thinking sister. Eventually she crumbles, someone has to accept the consequences, there are always those in denial.

##### 100 years later Michaela moves into Catherine's house, she is related and the stories and rumours have a bearing on her behaviour. She is a determined woman but is rattled by the locals comments and their speculation.

##### The entire situation convinces Michaela of Catherine's innocence, absorbing her in unearthing facts of Catherine's demise. Her investigation and delving for evidence disturbs certain people who have secrets of their own.

**_Morrison & Adams - Novellas_**

Twist Of A Steel Bracelet

##### Morrison Adams - Brief case series - Book 1

##### A psychological suspense, with a taste of social activity! Watch your friends closely, can you guarantee they won't take exception to a seemingly casual remark? It may instigate a barrel full of woes if they feel you insulted them intentionally.  Stacy has always assumed she knows her friends and they are trustworthy. Inadvertently and unknowingly she stirs up someone's sensitivities to her peril.

##### H A Dawson integrates a thriller into an ordinary incident, but warnings like this should never go unheeded.

####

#### Snapping Locks

##### A psychological suspense with some community spirit.  **  Life has a habit of nipping you from behind with unexpected, unwanted surprises when you're at your most vulnerable, even if you're brimming with pride. Maddie has had a troubled childhood with her widowed father who was excessive with his demands and discipline, this led her to vent her frustrations on others with some embarrassing results. Those involved may not hesitate to exert their revenge in an inopportune fashion. Maddie's a calamity and the more she pools her resources, the worse matters turn nasty.**

##### H A Dawson creates a thriller from an insignificant event, depicting how people attempt to destroy the lives of others whether justified or not.

_**Circles Of Subterfuge - Series**_

#### Never To Be Ignored

**When your profession compels you to help people should you ever refuse a dying person's pleas?**

A nurse is an unwitting accomplice to a patient's scheming. The subterfuge and manipulation have regrettable consequences as this mystery of a dead son unfurls into a family catastrophe.

#### **How would you feel trapped in a cage because you threw away the key?**

**  
**

#### Stolen By Jackdaws

##### The second book in the "Women of Compassion" series is as equally riveting as "Never To Be Ignored". She wants to help an old boyfriend. She is surprised how old emotions surfaced causing her to feel guilty, but of what? Her tunnel vision comes from her belief good actions bring good rewards. There is a mystery to solve but our main character finds herself amongst gangsters who threats become real and life turns intolerable as our tale tumbles to its finale.

#### Struck With Venom

Kelly has no idea someone has been manipulating her family for years. All she wishes to do is comply with her father's wishes but this causes conflict with her mother! It's fantastic to discover you have a sister but nothing runs smooth when guilt is the singular defining emotion.

Kelly is trapped by her devotion to duty while protecting those close to her. For a psychotic person there are never rules or remorse, just an evil advantage! Blackmail is never simple when it backfires.

#### Trampling Broken Sticks

Ebony is unaware that a desperate person is watching her and circumstances will become treacherous for her family and boyfriend. When a series of incidents befall her she suspects her father may have been blackmailed. But why?

#### Sweeping Away Tomorrow: A short story

Every day people make errors of judgement, when it's a friend's betrayal the injury is profound and sustained. We should not hesitate in forgiving ourselves but must become wiser by mending our ways.

### Collections

# H A Dawson

Writing mystery suspense fiction is highly addictive because you are creating your own world. My stories are based on actual incidents which I've expanded and elaborated.

I totally immerse myself into the creation process, so much so that I must be prised away from my battered laptop computer! However I do enjoy all year round physical activities which include playing tennis, swimming, growing my own fruit and vegetables. I care for a menagerie of domestic animals; I also keep North European honey bees which help the pollination of my fruit trees and food crops. I do not use any detrimental chemicals; consequently my garden has become a haven for a wide variety of insects encouraged by seasonal flowering plants. My extensive hedgerows shelter hedgehog houses that help hibernation and reinstate injured or rescued hedgehogs; other wildlife abounds and is so wonderful it distracts me even from the best of mystery suspense.

If you are a staunch reader your eyes will be glued to the pages! The stories have a steady start with a slow burn (like good quality torch paper) the tension mounts until it is palpable, the pace breathy then it rockets!

My books are influenced by the work of 20th century film director Alfred Hitchcock, so beware my stories are emotionally dynamic...YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

I am learning to blog and my website will contain some surprises with some gifts for the enthusiastic reader. If you are fans of British style mystery - suspense be sure to pay a visit just Click/Tap H A Dawson 
