The Ladies' Midnight Swimming Club(38)

‘God, I suppose,’ Dan hadn’t realised that women had stayed on there after their babies were born. ‘And the ones who left after…’

‘They’ve all but disappeared into the passage of time. Mostly they left here as quickly as they could; tried to get away from the shame that was attached to… well, you know. Ireland was a very different place then,’ Elizabeth said sadly.

‘Anyway,’ Jo said more brightly, pushing in her gate and effectively locking Dora inside to put a finish on her night’s adventure. ‘If it’s Saint Nunciata’s you’re interested in for your novel, Elizabeth is the very best woman to talk to. She visited there every single week when no-one else in the village was allowed to so much as look through a window.’

‘I hated going there, every week,’ Elizabeth said softly, ‘but I couldn’t just turn my back on those girls.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘Thank goodness times have changed so much since then.’

‘Yes,’ Dan sad softly, ‘thank goodness indeed.’





Part 3


June





16


Jo


Far from giving them hope, the second opinion was bleaker than the first. Jo couldn’t help but think it must have been a strange thing for Lucy to be on the other side of the medical transaction that passed between doctor and patient. She found herself thinking odd thoughts like that throughout the day, as if she was looking in on them both, somehow immune to the reality of what it was all about. The day they sat together in a private consulting room, waiting for a prognosis that Jo knew in her bones couldn’t be much better than the first, was probably the scariest day of her life. It overwhelmed her in a way that made her feel as if she was somehow beyond it all.

Here in the austere bleakness of the oncology ward, she felt as if she had shrunken to a shadow of herself, as though she was already beginning to fade from life. To be fair, there was very little to be found in the fabric of the place to encourage any real hope or confidence. Of course, she knew that they probably did their best, but there was no papering over the cracks of what it was all about here. The waiting room was punctuated with pretty prints of flowers and everyone was not only lovely, but there was a gentle efficiency about the place that even if it would not dispel the fear of the disease, it certainly fought bravely to contain it. Jo felt as if the nurses here could just about fold up anything neatly and crease it into a far more compliant form, whether that was sheets, bandages or indeed cancer.

They delivered tea and biscuits and left them sitting next to a window with an uninspiring view of the car park below. Still, she managed to smile and thank the nurse, before ignoring the tea and diving deep into her own thoughts. Jo was new to the idea of being ill. But she had seen it often with other women in the village. It didn’t take long for people to fall into the role of patient. She had every intention of taking her time about it.

Dr Badero was a lot older than the other doctors they’d met; with his grey-white hair and gentle Nigerian accent came a sense of calm and confidence. Even Lucy felt she would trust this man’s judgement. He took his time reading every single file, scanning through the tests that had come back showing the same but worse. He pushed his glasses to his forehead at the end, all the better to really listen to Jo.

‘So, you’ve already had the cancer confirmed and a prognosis from the regional team.’ He left the files down, turned his chair so they were sitting in a perfect triangle. It was intimate; they might have been friends chatting. ‘They are very thorough, you know,’ he said a little sadly, perhaps to prepare them.

‘So, you think that they are right, that I’ve…’ Jo took a deep breath ‘…a year at most.’

‘I think, dear lady, they are being most generous.’ He put his hands together, closed his eyes for a moment. ‘There is no good way to give this kind of news, but if I were sitting in your seat now, I would prefer someone to be honest with me,’ he said kindly and the only part of Jo that had not become numb with fear felt her heart drop to somewhere in the pit of her stomach. ‘You have a year if you agree to treatment, but that year will be spent feeling very unwell and when you’re not in hospital you will be dreading the next time you have to come for more treatment.’

‘And without it?’ Jo said now, her voice remarkably steady.

‘Without it, I’d say with a little taking care of yourself, eating well, not trying to do too much, I think you could have maybe six months, but that is being optimistic.’

‘It sounds as if I can go about my normal life and then…’ Jo’s voice began to break.

‘No, dear, I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. No, this will be with pain management and there will be days when you will be so tired your body will just not be able to do much more than lift a cup of tea.’

‘I’ve already been taking medication.’ Jo looked at Lucy a little guiltily. ‘Eric wrote me up for whopping painkillers and I’ve just kept repeating the prescription, but they’re not working anymore.’ She shook her head now a little sadly, passing a bottle of pills across to Dr Badero.

‘Oh, they are working,’ he said examining the bottle. ‘You just need a much stronger medicine.’

‘So, what’s next?’ Lucy asked with a lot more gumption than Jo felt.