I’m not hungry.’ I feel a bit
sick. Somehow seeing the details of the appointment in black and white makes me
realise just how serious this could be.
‘Sure?’
I wave the plate away.
‘What’s that?’ Will gestures to
the letter.
I turn to him, stuffing the
letter back in its envelope. ‘W…what? This? Oh, it’s just junk .’ I feel
bad keeping it from him, but there’s no point in worrying him unnecessarily.
There’s a chance the mole won’t turn out to be melanoma. Maybe my GP is being
over-cautious. ‘I’m tired. I think I’ll have a read in bed.’
Will shrugs .
‘Suit yourself.’
‘Night,’ I say to Will’s cronies
and go upstairs. I don’t take long in the bathroom and I’m soon propped up in
bed with a copy of Grazia magazine on
my lap. I try to read, but I can’t concentrate, so I pull out my laptop from
underneath the bed.
I don’t know much
about skin cancer; you don’t hear about it as much as you do about, say, breast
cancer, so I’m shocked to read that rates of malignant melanoma are rising
faster than any other type of common cancer in the UK. T here are different stages. I look
up the details of an excision biopsy, which is what I’ll be having. If the mole
is found to be cancerous, then I’ll need to have more skin removed, maybe even
a skin graft . . . My stomach churns and I shut down the laptop. Sometimes you
can have too much information.
I look at the mole. Surely this
innocuous brown lump isn’t life-threatening?I
mustn’t think too far ahead.I turn off the lamp
on the bedside cabinet. Submerged under the duvet, I curl into the foetal
position. I’ve got a feeling I’m not going to get much sleep tonight. Roll on
two weeks’ time. I want to know what I’m dealing with.
Chapter Two
I’m experimenting with a design
for a hand-tied bouquet, trying not to think about my upcoming hospital
appointment, when I become aware of someone standing in front of me. I look up
and, wow! I drop my pencil. He takes my breath away. The vision of gorgeousness
is smiling at me. He’s got pale green eyes and chin-length, light brown wavy
hair.
He peers at my name badge. ‘Hi, Gemma.’
I stand tall and beam up at him.
‘Hi, how can I help you?’ He smiles at me, and there’s a long silence. My mouth
starts to ache.
He blinks. ‘Erm…I’d like a
bouquet for my brother and sister-in-law. They’ve just had a baby.’
‘Well, you’ve come to the right
place.’ I cringe. Silly! ‘Do you know
what you want?’
‘I’ll be guided by you. I haven’t
got a clue about flowers.’
I laugh and relax a little. ‘What
did they have?’
‘Sorry?’ His forehead creases.
‘The baby. Is it a boy or a girl?’
‘Oh! It’s a boy - my nephew.’
‘Congratulations, Uncle . . .’
Underhand I know. I’m desperate to know his name.
‘Thanks. Leo. Uncle Leo, that’s
me.’ He beams.
I smile. Leo, his name is Leo. I
give myself a little shake - it’s time for action. I leave the counter and head
towards the many flowers available for selection. ‘Hmm . . . I’m thinking
germini, freesias, alstroemeria and spray
chrysanthemums.’ I point out the flowers to him along the way. The white and
blue combination would be perfect, along with some foliage. I turn to him, keen
for his approval. ‘What do you think?’
‘It all sounds great. Can you
deliver it?’
‘Of course. Will it be to the hospital or to
their home?’
He hesitates. ‘To
the hospital. They’re in the Countess of Chester. I think they’re being
discharged tomorrow.’
‘That’s fine. I can make the
bouquet up and deliver it later today.’ I’m on my way back to the counter when
I stop and turn back to him. He almost bumps into me.
‘How about I arrange it in a
small vase? That means your sister-in-law can easily take it home with her
tomorrow.’
‘Sounds good.’
We smile at each other. I can’t
seem to tear my gaze away from his eyes. I have never had this reaction to
sick. Somehow seeing the details of the appointment in black and white makes me
realise just how serious this could be.
‘Sure?’
I wave the plate away.
‘What’s that?’ Will gestures to
the letter.
I turn to him, stuffing the
letter back in its envelope. ‘W…what? This? Oh, it’s just junk .’ I feel
bad keeping it from him, but there’s no point in worrying him unnecessarily.
There’s a chance the mole won’t turn out to be melanoma. Maybe my GP is being
over-cautious. ‘I’m tired. I think I’ll have a read in bed.’
Will shrugs .
‘Suit yourself.’
‘Night,’ I say to Will’s cronies
and go upstairs. I don’t take long in the bathroom and I’m soon propped up in
bed with a copy of Grazia magazine on
my lap. I try to read, but I can’t concentrate, so I pull out my laptop from
underneath the bed.
I don’t know much
about skin cancer; you don’t hear about it as much as you do about, say, breast
cancer, so I’m shocked to read that rates of malignant melanoma are rising
faster than any other type of common cancer in the UK. T here are different stages. I look
up the details of an excision biopsy, which is what I’ll be having. If the mole
is found to be cancerous, then I’ll need to have more skin removed, maybe even
a skin graft . . . My stomach churns and I shut down the laptop. Sometimes you
can have too much information.
I look at the mole. Surely this
innocuous brown lump isn’t life-threatening?I
mustn’t think too far ahead.I turn off the lamp
on the bedside cabinet. Submerged under the duvet, I curl into the foetal
position. I’ve got a feeling I’m not going to get much sleep tonight. Roll on
two weeks’ time. I want to know what I’m dealing with.
Chapter Two
I’m experimenting with a design
for a hand-tied bouquet, trying not to think about my upcoming hospital
appointment, when I become aware of someone standing in front of me. I look up
and, wow! I drop my pencil. He takes my breath away. The vision of gorgeousness
is smiling at me. He’s got pale green eyes and chin-length, light brown wavy
hair.
He peers at my name badge. ‘Hi, Gemma.’
I stand tall and beam up at him.
‘Hi, how can I help you?’ He smiles at me, and there’s a long silence. My mouth
starts to ache.
He blinks. ‘Erm…I’d like a
bouquet for my brother and sister-in-law. They’ve just had a baby.’
‘Well, you’ve come to the right
place.’ I cringe. Silly! ‘Do you know
what you want?’
‘I’ll be guided by you. I haven’t
got a clue about flowers.’
I laugh and relax a little. ‘What
did they have?’
‘Sorry?’ His forehead creases.
‘The baby. Is it a boy or a girl?’
‘Oh! It’s a boy - my nephew.’
‘Congratulations, Uncle . . .’
Underhand I know. I’m desperate to know his name.
‘Thanks. Leo. Uncle Leo, that’s
me.’ He beams.
I smile. Leo, his name is Leo. I
give myself a little shake - it’s time for action. I leave the counter and head
towards the many flowers available for selection. ‘Hmm . . . I’m thinking
germini, freesias, alstroemeria and spray
chrysanthemums.’ I point out the flowers to him along the way. The white and
blue combination would be perfect, along with some foliage. I turn to him, keen
for his approval. ‘What do you think?’
‘It all sounds great. Can you
deliver it?’
‘Of course. Will it be to the hospital or to
their home?’
He hesitates. ‘To
the hospital. They’re in the Countess of Chester. I think they’re being
discharged tomorrow.’
‘That’s fine. I can make the
bouquet up and deliver it later today.’ I’m on my way back to the counter when
I stop and turn back to him. He almost bumps into me.
‘How about I arrange it in a
small vase? That means your sister-in-law can easily take it home with her
tomorrow.’
‘Sounds good.’
We smile at each other. I can’t
seem to tear my gaze away from his eyes. I have never had this reaction to
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