Page 60 of You Were Always the One

Time does odd things on days like these. Sitting on the sofa, as I wait for Max and Grace to come in, I retrace the last weeks. Then months; before I know it, years. I remember the early days of me and Miles; when Max was born, then Grace. How lucky I was to be able to make my career fit around my children. How, for a while, I had everything I’d ever wanted.

But you didn’t. The voice comes out of nowhere. You had what you told yourself you wanted. But it was a dream. A fantasy. It was never about who Miles was. It was just that you wanted to believe it was.

My thoughts are interrupted when my mobile buzzes. As I pick it up, Rita’s face flashes up on the screen.

‘Tell me what’s going on,’ she says when I answer.

‘It isn’t good.’ My voice wavers. ‘Miles’s cancer is stage four.’ I go on, explaining how the treatment will at best buy him more time, but we don’t know how long. That currently, there is no cure.

‘Jesus.’ She sounds shocked. ‘But he’s starting treatment, right?’

‘He’s still taking it all in,’ I say. ‘But most likely, yes.’

She’s silent, taking it in. ‘Shit, Holls. I’m so sorry. Do the kids know?’ she asks.

‘Not yet,’ I tell her.

It’s awful for Miles. And right now, I’m not sure how to navigate this. Not long after the call ends, Max and Grace come in. Knowing what I have to tell them, a feeling of dread takes me over, but there is no way I can put this off. Even so, I switch the kettle on and get out some food.

Max just stands there. ‘What happened today?’ Then, ‘Where’s Dad?’

‘He’s upstairs, resting. Why don’t you both come and sit down.’ I gesture towards the table. As the three of us sit down together, I don’t have the words. But there are no words to tell them that there is no cure. That it won’t be today, or tomorrow, but their father is dying.

‘Can’t they do something?’ Grace’s lip wobbles.

‘They are giving him all the treatment they can,’ I say. ‘We have to hope his cancer will respond.’

‘What if it doesn’t?’ Max stares at me.

‘You know I said how there aren’t always answers?’ I say. ‘Right now, this is one of those times. We’re going to make sure your dad has the best care there is. He has a really good consultant looking after him. And we can look after him too.’ I look at my children. Max’s ashen face, Grace’s wet with tears, and I feel a fire inside me. A determination, to do everything I can, not just for them, but for all of us. ‘Come here.’ Getting up, I go to Max. As I put my arms around him, Grace joins us. The three of us stay like that, just holding each other, still there as Miles comes in.

Grace sees him first. ‘Hello, Daddy.’ Her voice is tearful.

‘I’m guessing your mother has told you how today went.’ Miles glances questioningly at me.

‘We asked her,’ Max says defensively.

Miles sits down. ‘Well, as she probably said, they’ve offered me radiotherapy and chemo.’ He looks at me again. ‘I’ve called the consultant’s office. It’s starting next week.’

‘Is your hair going to fall out?’ Grace asks.

I stare at her in disbelief. How does she know about that?

‘One of our teachers lost her hair,’ she goes on. ‘But she’s OK now.’

Miles manages a ghost of a smile. ‘It probably will,’ he says. He hesitates. ‘Look, I know I’ve been a bit tetchy. But I’ve had a lot on my mind.’ He glances at our kids, then his eyes rest on me. ‘I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving.’ He surprises all of us. ‘Shall we order pizza?’

‘You did really well,’ I say to Miles, after the children have gone to bed and I tidy the kitchen. He did, with the right mixture of honest and real – thinking of how it would hit them, for once.

‘I don’t want to make this any harder than it already is.’ He turns to look at me. ‘Holly? I know that things between us need talking about – and I know our marriage is about the worst it’s ever been. But if we’re going to stay living together, can we call a truce? I’m not sure how else we can get through this.’

It seems an oversimplification of what has become horribly complicated. But these are not ordinary times. ‘OK.’ I say it reluctantly. ‘There are things to talk about, but they can wait.’ I pause. ‘There is one thing I want to ask.’ I’m thinking Oh, the tangled webs we weave; of the emails I read, between him and Patricia. But I can hardly tell him I’ve been going through them.

‘About Patricia?’ He holds my gaze. ‘We’re not in touch. I can’t see that changing.’

‘Do you want it to?’ I ask, seeing as we’re being honest.

‘Not right now,’ he says evasively.