‘What?’
This is not what I expected.
‘Go somewhere nice where you’ve always wanted to go. I mean now. It’s your birthday, Juliette. Go tomorrow if you can, but just do it,’ he says. ‘Pack up and go away somewhere for a couple of days, even a week if you can manage it. I really think you should do something just for you.’
I roll my eyes again.
‘Oh Michael, that’s a really sweet suggestion but as if I could,’ I tell him. ‘Somehow, I can’t see myself mustering up the energy to jump on a plane to anywhere exotic with this time bomb ticking in my head. I mean the thought sounds good, thanks and all that, but I have the small matter of a teenage daughter to think of. Not to mention my job. I’ve a few features I need to write up. God, that sounds so unimportant in the wider scheme of things, doesn’t it? A job? Who cares about their job when they’re about to die?’
Michael takes his glasses off. This means he really is determined now. He stands up.
‘I obviously wasn’t thinking about jumping on a plane to anywhere exotic,’ he replies. He has dropped his pen onto the table. ‘I’m not talking about New York or the Bahamas or a trip to Niagara Falls, Juliette. I’m merely suggesting you just go somewhere quieter … well, quieter than here for a little while. Away from questions and worry and watching the clock tick your time away. Somewhere to reflect, to think, to savour your own wellbeing, to get your head around all of this … somewhere not too far away, but away from all of this. I am suggesting this as your friend, not your doctor. You should do it for just a few days. Just go.’
‘Just go …’ I repeat after him and those two simple words echo around my head.
I know he means well but going away somewhere is seriously the last thing on my mind today after what I have just been told. I still have to explain all of this mess to Rosie, not to mention planning the poor child’s future without me, I have a big sister who is tearing her hair out with frantic worry, a devastated mother and father who will be totally inconsolable and Dan, my husband who … well, he is the one I worry about the most, apart from Rosie. Dan, my true love, my best friend and the person who knows me the best in the whole world. I don’t know if I will be able to tell him at all. I can’t imagine saying the words to him. I just can’t bear to hurt him so much all over again as I know exactly what he will do to cope and it’s something I can’t begin to think about right now.
‘How about a few days in Ireland?’ asks Michael, with a deep breath. ‘Take the ferry. Go to that place you told me about … what’s it called, Killarry? You said it’s beautiful there. That would be nice, no? Three days? A weekend even?’
Jesus, did he just say Ireland? The very suggestion of going back there fills my stomach with butterflies and my heart flutters at the thought of it.
‘You mean Killara,’ I correct him and I close my eyes. ‘God, Michael, that would be like going to heaven, pardon the pun. The sea, the quiet, the peace … never mind the memories … ah, what did you have to mention that place for?’
‘Sorry, I just thought it was somewhere you spoke so fondly of,’ says Michael. ‘It’s accessible. Not a million miles away but far enough away to get away if you know what I mean?’
Killara. I bite my lip. My sweet, dear Killara where some of my fondest, maddest, most life changing memories were made. Now, contrary to my initial dismissal of his suggestion of a short getaway, I’m beginning to consider it.
‘Do you really think I could manage a trip there?’ I ask him. ‘It would be really strange to relive all those memories … but maybe it would be just what I need to distract me from what’s about to happen. Do you think I could?’
Michael’s excitement leaves his face for a second.
‘Ah okay. Maybe not there then,’ he says, knowing exactly what memories I am referring to.
I raise an eyebrow.
‘Maybe that’s not the ideal place,’ he retorts. ‘Forget I suggested it. How about somewhere like Barry Island? Or Weston-super-Mare? Caroline and I spent a great weekend there at Easter. Or Blackpool even?’
‘Too late, you’ve planted the seed of Killara,’ I tell him and his eyes are full of regret. ‘I’ve always wanted to go back, you know I have. Maybe now is the right time.’
‘I shouldn’t have said it,’ he replies. ‘What was I thinking? Tenby has a beautiful beach and I know how you love the sea.’
‘Look, I won’t be chasing any memories, Michael, I’m not that stupid,’ I tell him. ‘That would not be on my agenda even if I was to go to Killara and let’s face it, it’s a bit late for all that now. I wouldn’t dare to look him up.’
He rubs his temples. ‘Juliette?’
‘Well, you suggested it!’ I tell him. ‘Come on, Michael of course it would be on my agenda. How could I go back there and not wonder where he is? Wouldn’t you? It’s something I’ve never faced up to, never told anyone about apart from my sister and obviously Dan knows a little about it, but now might be the right time. It makes sense actually. Imagine if—’
‘Juliette, please no!’ he interrupts me. ‘Your timing to go looking for him is … I can’t think of the word … you don’t need that sort of pressure I am saying that to you as your doctor.’
‘It wouldn’t be top of my agenda to find him, I promise,’ I explain. ‘But you have to agree, it would be so good to put a few old ghosts to bed, not to mention the obvious answers for Rosie. Physically, do you really think I could go there? Even after what you’ve told me today?’
Michael knows what I am asking.
‘Well, what I told you earlier is the unavoidable truth, unfortunately,’ he explains. ‘The brain tumour is like a ticking time bomb, but you’re not going to kick the bucket overnight. You’re feeling good right now so a week away won’t make any difference.’
We both can’t help but laugh at his choice of words. ‘Kicking the bucket’ sounds like something that old people do, not a forty-year-old woman like me who should have the world at my feet.
‘I know exactly what I’ll do,’ I say, as a brainwave hits my good-for-nothing, wasting away skull. ‘I’ll take Rosie with me. Her school holidays start soon … I could take her and we could spend some quality time together away from reality and it might help her, you know, find some sort of closure or understanding of what’s ahead of us both.’
‘Are you sure?’ he replies. ‘I never thought of that, taking Rosie. That could be good as long as you’re not going to go looking for old skeletons in closets. This is not the right time to tell the child about her—’
‘Oh God, Michael, what am I going to tell her about all of this crap?’ I ask him, my head now in my hands. ‘She’s just fifteen years old for crying out loud. She wants to be thinking about boys and makeup tutorials on YouTube and the best way to get tickets to see Ed Sheeran – not her dying mother. My poor baby. What am I going to tell her?’
‘Take her away with you for a rest,’ says Michael, trying to keep me focused. ‘Go and spend some quality time with her as you said, wherever it is you choose to go, and give her some more precious memories to hold on to.’
‘But how do I tell her that I’m going to die?’
Michael pauses. The word ‘die’ hangs in the air.
‘It will come to you when the time is right,’ he whispers to me.
‘You think?’ I frown, squeezing my eyes tight so that I don’t dare cry. I don’t have time to cry.
‘I think, yes,’ he says