We Own the Sky(33)
Just then, Anna stood up and walked out of the room. I could hear her quick little steps padding up the stairs.
“Should I go and see her?” Lola said, looking crestfallen.
“No, it’s fine. Best to leave her now.”
*
“Scott.”
“Hey.”
His tone was cold, unsparing.
“Would you have time to meet today?” I said.
“I thought we were supposed to meet a week ago. You know, to discuss the
sale.”
“Sorry,” I said, “something’s happened.”
“Right, it always does, doesn’t it? Mate, you’re my best friend, but I can’t deal
with this at the moment.”
I was quiet, didn’t know what to say, could feel the tears welling in my eyes.
“Rob? Are you still there?”
“Could you meet now?” I said, my voice cracking. “In The Ship?”
“Yes, of course.” Scott’s tone had softened. “Is everything okay?”
I didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything.
“I can be at The Ship in about fifteen.”
*
Scott was already there when I arrived, sitting at the bar, scrolling through something on his phone.
“I ordered you a pint and a cheeky one,” he said, pointing to a whiskey.
“Sounds like you need it.”
“Thanks.”
Scott took a long swig of his pint. “So what’s up, mate? Trouble with the Mrs.?”
I downed my whiskey in one gulp, and the ice rattled around the glass. “It’s Jack,” I said, taking a deep breath and pinching the backs of my thighs.
“They’ve found something, some kind of lesion in his brain.”
“A lesion? What’s a lesion? Is that a tumor?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”
Scott indicated to the bartender we wanted more whiskeys. “And what did the doctor say?”
“Well, he’ll have to have an operation first, and then they’ll know more,” I said, picking up my pint. “And hopefully that will be it.”
Before he could answer, Scott’s phone rang and he looked at the screen. He shook his head as if he didn’t want to take it. “Sorry, hold that thought. It’s Karolina, and I’m in the doghouse...”
He stepped off his bar stool, and I noticed he was wearing new brogues and skinny jeans. “Hello, babycakes,” he said as he walked away. He stood at the other end of the bar, laughing and whispering. I stared at a clock, a barometer, a ship in a bottle.
“Sorry, mate,” he said, coming back to the bar and sitting back down on his stool. “She’s so demanding at the moment. Anyway, you were saying about the treatment... I mean, they caught it early, right?”
“Yes,” I said, but suddenly I wasn’t so sure and couldn’t remember exactly what the doctor had said. “He has to have an operation, and they think they can take it all out.”
“Well, that’s good news. Really happy to hear that.”
“Thanks,” I said, pinching my thighs again, so hard it made me wince. “I just don’t understand it, because...because, he’s so well, he’s so active and...and...well, normal, I just don’t...”
“God, Rob, I’m so, so sorry,” Scott said, and I didn’t know why he was
apologizing until I realized his phone was ringing silently, throbbing on the bar.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, declining the call but then the phone lit up again, and we both stared at the flashing screen.
“So what’s the next step then? What happens now?” Scott said, when Karolina had finally hung up.
“Well,” I said. “In the next few weeks, he’ll have an operation to remove the...you know, to get everything out. And then hopefully that will be it.”
“I’m sure it will, mate,” he said, touching my whiskey glass with his. “And please, keep me in the loop, let me know if I can help. By the way, I do know some Harley Street types from the golf club, so I could ask around about the best people for this kind of thing.” Scott started scrolling through his phone. “Yep, here we go. This guy, Dr. Khan. Indian guy. Very clever. I’ll give him a ring later if you want?”
I was sweating and could feel cold trickles run down my back. “I’ve got to go,” I said, suddenly feeling a bristle of panic.
“Okay, mate,” Scott said, taking a leisurely sip of his pint. As I was leaving, he put his arm around me, I think an attempt at a hug, but I didn’t respond, my body stiff.
“Seriously, let me know if there’s anything you need. Your Jack’s a fighter, especially if he’s anything like his old man.”
Anything we need, I thought as I walked back up Parliament Hill. Anything we need? Maybe not being on the phone to your new girlfriend. Maybe not staring at the barmaid’s breasts when I’m telling you my son has a brain tumor.
*
Anna was in the living room when I got home, sitting on the sofa with the laptop on the coffee table.
“Is he still sleeping?” I said.
“Yes, I just went up and he’s out like a light... Sorry about before. I know Lola means well but I just couldn’t...”