She’d lost weight. A lot of weight. It had been a few weeks since I’d last seen her, but the difference was startling.

‘You show everything in your eyes,’ Mum said as she stood in the open doorway of the house that had been my childhood home. She pulled me towards her and I rested my head on her shoulder. Skin and fucking bones. ‘We’ll talk later,’ she whispered into my ear.

I knew from we’ll talk later that something bigger than all of us was threatening fragments of the happiness filling my chest.

‘Mum, this is Abi,’ I said stepping aside to reveal the subject of several gushing telephone calls, text messages and many emails full of pictures and anecdotes about her. None of them did her any justice. She was so much more than a subject line of an email.

‘Green eyes,’ Mum said simply as she took a shaky step forward.

‘Nice to meet you.’

‘You too. I’m Ann.’ Mum held out her hand. She was reserved until you got to know her. She ushered us both into the house. A full shiver ran down my back when I noticed a walking stick propped up against the bannister. It belonged to Dad, but that wasn’t the reason for the impending sense of doom deep in my stomach. The walking stick had been in the loft since the week after Dad died. The only reason for it leaning against the bannister was because she was using it.

She was sitting in the chair by the patio doors when I finally walked into the living room. She gave me a small smile and nodded. She didn’t miss anything.

‘Jamie, would you do me a favour and bring the tray from the kitchen. I’ve just made a pot of tea.’ I left Mum and Abi talking, or more specifically, I left Abi talking. She filled the room with noise but she didn’t silence the conversation I was having with Mum through our facial expressions and body language. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

‘Jamie tells me you are about to start a new job.’

‘Yes, I start officially on Monday, but I feel like I’ve been there years,’ she replied in full excitement mode.

The afternoon rolled by in a cloud of baby stories, reminiscing about important people no longer in our lives but always there in the back of our minds, and laughing through stories of epic embarrassment, namely my teenage years. When Abi laughed heartily and clutched her growling stomach, Mum asked me to bring the stack of takeaway leaflets from the drawer in the kitchen.

‘She’s good for you,’ she said after Abi breezed out the door to fetch some wine from the local supermarket. ‘It’s about time you settled down. It’s always been work, work, work. I get the feeling there’s a lot of fun thrown in now. I can tell you like her.’

‘Mum, why is Dad’s walking stick in the hallway?’ I asked. I’d waited all afternoon to ask that question. She looked down to her lap and started brushing imaginary crumbs away with her hands.

‘I’ve been using it a while. Started with a few aches and pains.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I didn’t want to worry you.’

‘What is it you don’t want me to worry about?’

‘I’m going to tell you something, but you have to promise me you won’t fly off the handle.’

‘Just tell me what’s going on.’

‘I have an appointment at the hospital on Monday.’ She brought her hand to her mouth and started coughing. ‘I found a lump in my breast. I’m having a biopsy.’

‘Fucking hell, Mum. Why didn’t you tell me? How long has this been going on?’

‘I found the lump a few months ago. I didn’t think anything of it but then—’

‘You started losing weight.’

‘You noticed.’

‘Of course I did. You’re skin and bone!’ I stood and caught my reflection in the mirror above the fireplace, shocked, worried and devastated that we were here again; familiar yet still so alien to me. ‘Why do you need the walking stick?’

‘I’ve had a few aches and pains. I’ve just needed it for a bit of support.’

‘A bit of support? You couldn’t bring the tray of drinks in.’

I knew what a few aches and pains meant. They meant that any cancer in her body was probably spreading like wildfire.

‘Sit down. Breathe. Look at me.’ I knelt down in front of her as she cradled my head in her hands. ‘We’re not naïve to cancer, Jamie. How could we be? I know my body. A lot has changed in a small amount of time. I don’t need a biopsy to tell me what I already know. It’s just a formality.’

Her hands circled my scalp just like they did when we’d lost my dad. ‘Listen to me, Jamie.’ She drew my head back but her hands remained on my cheeks. ‘Do you know how proud you make me? So proud. And today, bringing Abi to meet me has given me so much peace I can’t tell you. However long I’ve got, I will spend every day wishing I had more time with you because you, Jamie, are my world.’ She wiped my tears with the pad of her thumb.

‘Don’t talk like that. Wait for the results and we’ll take it from there.’

She smiled a smile that told me she knew. This was her time and she had accepted it, however painful it was for her. We held each other until Abi’s voice was ringing through the house, bringing it back to life again through her laughter.

‘I’ve gone with the sparkling wine because I’m a classy girl!’ She stopped in her tracks when she saw me crouched down on my knees, my mum’s arms wrapped around me.

I felt Mum’s head lift before she said, ‘Abi, honey, we need to talk.’

* * *

Abi held me as a migraine took hold of the power of sight and sound. Lights flashed every time I opened my eyes and there was a piercing whistle passing through my ears like a tortuous relay race. Abi was sitting with Mum when I said I needed a shower, but truthfully, I needed time to collect the pieces of myself that were strewn across the floor after Mum had thrown the cancer grenade.

I felt a cold, wet flannel across my forehead. It felt like winning the lottery.

‘Lie back and try to sleep.’

The voice that soothed every muscle in my body washed over me. I squeezed my eyes together, stupidly questioning if Abi had the ability to heal cancer like she had the ability to dim a migraine.

If only.

* * *

Somehow, I slept through until nine the next morning. The flannel was no longer there, nor were Abi’s warm arms. The slight chink of light from the curtains that never did hang properly stung my eyes, but the nagging relay race had stopped. I was thankful for small mercies.

I have no recollection of how I got to the kitchen, but when I did, I was met with the perfect vision of Abi and Mum sitting at the table laughing together. They were reading the Sunday papers. Mum had a magnifying glass as well as her glasses. They had obviously resorted to Abi reading the horoscopes out loud.

‘Do something different today. Lie back on the grass watching the shape of the clouds drift by, or skip down the street with a spring in your step. Shit, that’s really bad timing. These are a load of crap anyway. Take no notice,’ Abi said.

‘I’m not skipping down the street anytime soon. Not even if Colin Firth was waiting at the other end for me,’ Mum said through laughter.

‘What if he was naked and holding a bag of chips?’ Abi asked.

‘I might consider it,’ she laughed as she rubbed Abi’s hand before turning to me. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘I’m seeing two of you, but apart from that, much better.’ I leant down to kiss her on the top of her head. ‘Abi, are you OK going home on the train without me tonight?’

‘Of course.’

‘I’ve been thinking, Mum. I’m coming with you to the hospital tomorrow,’ I said as I sat down at the table with them.

‘No, Jamie, I’m perfectly capable of going myself. Go home with Abi. It’s her first day at work tomorrow.’

‘How are you going to get there?’ I asked, ignoring her.

‘There are these wonderful things called taxis. You just pick up the phone and one comes to your door. It’s a revelation.’

‘I’m staying here, Mum. There’s no option in this.’

Abi went home on the train as planned, but without me. She officially started her new job the next morning, the very same morning I learnt that Mum had stage three breast cancer. The very same morning that would start the events that would tear me away from both women that meant more to me than anything else.