‘At last,’ said Dan. Relieved to hear voices filtering up from the hallway, he tossed his book to one side. Reading had been a fruitless exercise from the start, but he’d had to find something to take his mind off what was taking place in the kitchen. Try as he might though, he hadn’t absorbed a single word, and all courtesy of that vulture downstairs.

He listened as the front door finally opened and closed, he imagined his mum’s visitor making his way down the path. All the while rubbing his greasy hands together thanks to the sale he’d just clinched. Dan sneered. Not that he’d had to work for it. Not in his game.

Glad he no longer had to hide away; he swung his legs off the bed and stood up. He stretched his back out and could only guess at the amount of money his mother had just spent. He felt cowardly for not offering his support, especially when she’d made it clear she valued his opinion. However, it was bad enough Dan knew that his mother was going to die, without listening to her organise her own funeral. Funeral arrangements signified the end, something he wasn’t yet ready to face.

Dan headed downstairs and told himself that today was no different to when the nurses came. Apart from the fact that in those instances, rather than let him be present, his mother actually ordered him out of the room. Heaven forbid he should glean the slightest bit of information on her condition. So much so, she’d instructed her medical staff to keep schtum when it came to him.

He recalled how he’d tried to discretely accost, Jill, one of the nurses, in the hope of having a little chat; except, just like today’s reading, that turned out to be a pointless exercise too. She was very nice about it, even if she did politely and sympathetically tell him that patient confidentiality kept her from divulging anything. Thank God for the Internet, thought Dan. If it weren’t for modern day technology he’d still know absolutely nothing.

He entered the kitchen and caught sight of the various coffin brochures littering the dining table. They seemed to mock him as he put the kettle on. ‘Everything sorted?’ he asked.

His mother failed to look up and continued to scribble in her notepad, her concentration was there for all to see. No doubt, making notes on what she’d decided upon, getting everything down before she forgot most of it.

She’d been doing that a lot lately, thought Dan. She could be half way through a sentence and suddenly not know what it was she’d wanted to say. Partly because of her illness, he realised, cancer pain was enough to stop even the greatest minds in their tracks. And partly because of the side effects of all the drugs she was now taking. Oramorph for the pain, Stemetil for the nausea, Midazolam for the anxiety … the list went on.

Anxiety, Dan scoffed to himself, such a funny word under the circumstances. As far as he was concerned, anxiety was something you felt when you didn’t want to go to the dentist. Surely the excruciating agony his mum experienced, and the fact that she faced certain death, deserved something more fitting? In Dan’s opinion, Midazolam for pain-induced suicidal thoughts and being shit-scared of dying might not have the same ring to it, but it certainly seemed more appropriate.

He observed his mum for a moment, there was no denying the woman was sick. She’d all but lost her rosy glow and as for those loose-fitting dresses, she might think they hid her drastic weight loss, but they didn’t. Not really. She’d been turning to skin and bone in front of his very eyes for weeks now, and no amount of fancy clothing could disguise the fact.

She had managed to hold on to one thing though, thought Dan, which was her dignity. The respect he felt was immeasurable as he wondered how she managed to handle everything with such grace and composure. He swelled with a mixture of both pride and admiration; he doubted he could do it. He’d be lucky to have even an ounce of her emotional strength.

‘Cup of tea?’ he asked.

He watched his mum put her pen down and reach into her pocket for her pills.

‘Just a glass of water for me, please,’ she said.

As he grabbed a glass from the cupboard, Dan heard his mum struggling with the blister pack and, as she began to mutter, he could hear her patience decreasing by the second. Her annoyance surprised him; it was the first time she’d shown anything other than a carpe diem attitude since breaking the news. Then again, if anyone was entitled to a fit of frustration he knew it was her.

‘No,’ said his mum. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid.’

Dan turned just as the pack hit the ground, one of the much needed pills disappeared off and out of sight. His mum dropped to her knees in a pitiful attempt to find it and he immediately raced over to help. ‘Here, let me,’ he said. ‘You sit down. I’ll get it.’

As he took her by the arm and helped her back onto her feet she felt so light it shocked him. Her body was clearly losing the battle even if her brain continued to fight. It struck him just how close to the end they could be; Dan suddenly found himself enveloped with fear. He couldn’t lose her, not yet.

He crouched down in an attempt to locate his mother’s medication; his emotions flittered between anger and sadness. He felt angry that she was being taken away from him; angry at her for not accepting treatment and for shutting him out all these weeks, choices he didn’t think he’d ever fully understand. When it came to his sadness, it wasn’t fair that he was losing the one person who mattered more to him than anyone else. And why did she have to go like this? Why now? His mum’s death shouldn’t be for years yet and even then she should be allowed to pass away peacefully in her sleep. No one should have to go through this.

Dan fought his tears; he didn’t want to imagine life without his mother. He didn’t want to think about the gaping hole she’d leave behind. Something he wouldn’t just have to endure on a day-to-day basis, there were all the events and celebrations he’d have to experience without her. Like his wedding and the birth of his children. His mum should be around to see her grandchildren grown up. For God’s sake, being a big kid himself at times, she should be around to see him finally grow up.

He tried to pull himself together while insisting to himself that he was being selfish. She was the one who was dying for goodness sake, not him. Dan discreetly wiped his eyes and focused on his search efforts, she didn’t need to see him like this. He spotted the little white pill and reached under the dresser before rising to his feet. ‘Found it,’ he said, handing it over.

His mum gave him a grateful smile. ‘I feel like a drug addict,’ she said. ‘No, strike that.’ She indicated to the tablet resting on her palm. ‘Thanks to these, the morphine, and all the other stuff, I am a drug addict. Me, who’d have thought it, eh?’

Dan leaned down and kissed his mother’s forehead. ‘So what?’ he said. Everyone knew about the addictive qualities in cancer medication, but he’d rather that than the alternative suffering. ‘Does it matter?’

His mum smiled again. ‘You’re a good son,’ she said. ‘I shall miss you more than you know.’

He fetched a glass of water and after a few sips she managed to swallow her pill. ‘Better?’ he asked.

His mum nodded. ‘Ooh,’ she said, suddenly springing to life. ‘Before I forget, I have something I want to show you.’

Dan wondered where this burst of energy had come from, but he realised that he should have known his mother wouldn’t stay defeated for long. She’d never been one to feel sorry for herself and, whatever the circumstances, she always tried to find something positive amidst any problems.

‘Pass me my bag will you?’ she carried on.

She pointed to the shopper by the door and Dan duly went to get it. He handed it over and watched his mum pull out an, as of yet, unopened pack of photos. He rolled his eyes. Her camera may be digital but as easy as it might be downloading her snapshots onto the PC, she still preferred the hassle of getting physical copies. For her, scanning through pictures on a screen didn’t give her memories the respect that they deserved. Only a proper photo album did that.

He watched her rip open the pack.

‘My visit to Amsterdam,’ she said.

His mother was clearly excited to show him what she and Missy had gotten up to, Dan tried to summon up the degree of enthusiasm his mother expected. He struggled; as far as he was concerned, it was her daytrip to The Netherlands that had quickened her down turn. He’d known all along it would be too much for her body to cope with, but would she listen? As usual, the answer was no.

‘Now this is outside the Van Gogh Museum,’ she said. ‘A lovely Dutch gentleman took the photo for us.’

Dan looked down at the two women who stood, arms linked, in front of a big glass and concrete building. Missy wasn’t what he’d imagined. Compared to his mum, in her tweed suit and with her pinned back hair, she looked quite the conservative. And healthy, he noted, taking in her voluptuous frame, a frame that contrasted, a little too much for his liking, when next to his mother’s.

‘The paintings in that place,’ said his mum. ‘Such talent. And not just by the man himself, there are also works by Guaguin, Monet, Toulouse-Lautrec and Bernard. All of them wonderful.’

She continued to chat away as she moved on to the next picture and then the next. His mum seemed to see the wonder in anything and everything and Dan couldn’t help but question how she found the stamina, both physical and emotional, to keep going. Yet again, he had to admire her. The woman lived on a diet of scrambled egg and soup as nothing else would go down properly; and she often winced when she thought no one was looking. Plus, she swigged morphine and popped pills like there was no tomorrow, yet she still managed to get through each day and usually without a single complaint. He paused in his thinking and told himself that that was the whole point. For his mum, there really was no tomorrow.

She gave him a playful nudge. ‘You should take Maeve to Amsterdam one day,’ she said. ‘Or better still, to Paris. They don’t call it the City of Lovers for nothing.’

Her suggestion caught him off guard. However, despite his discomfort, Dan did his best to raise a convincing smile. ‘Maybe I will,’ he said, a statement that seemed to please his mother no end.

As she continued to chatter, he wished he could be honest and tell her that deep down, he knew Maeve wasn’t the one for him; that he didn’t really have the desire to take the woman anywhere, let alone somewhere as romantic as Paris. He wanted to admit that he was scared; scared that if he continued to play this game, he’d end up stuck in a relationship that never had a chance from the beginning. But as she carried on animatedly explaining each photo, he knew he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t let his mum think that she was deserting him, leaving him all alone in the world. What kind of son did that?

He felt his mother’s eyes boring into him, suddenly aware that she’d stopped talking.

‘I know you’re worried,’ she said, as if reading his mind. ‘That there are things you’re not telling me.’

‘You do?’ said Dan.

He wondered if this was his chance to come clean. After all, he hated deceiving his mother, pretending all was well on the Maeve front when really it was anything but. He hated keeping secrets in relation to Annabel too.

Annabel. He felt himself brighten at the mere thought of the woman. In a strange way, it was their time together that had kept him sane throughout all of this. Their Wednesday nights gave him something to look forward to; a diversion from reality which he had to admit had nothing to do with babies. Annabel was funny and smart and quirky. She made him laugh. In fact, in many ways she was just like his mother and he knew the two of them would fast become friends were they ever to meet.

‘Of course I do,’ his mum replied.

He almost laughed. In reality she didn’t know the half of it.

‘If I had to watch my mother waste away like this I’d be worried too. There’d be lots of things I’d want to say, but for whatever reason couldn’t. That’s natural. But know that I’m here for you.’ She patted the seat next to her, encouraging him to sit down. ‘I haven’t meant to push you away, Dan. I just think why let you get upset over what’s physically happening to me if I don’t have to. I want us to make the most of the time we have left. That’s what matters, not what’s going on inside this clapped out body of mine. You do understand, don’t you?’

Dan put all thoughts of honesty to one side and nodded. He might not necessarily agree, but putting it like that, of course he understood. Besides, whatever information his mother had chosen to keep to herself, Google had been more than happy to share.

‘You know I’ve never been one to pity myself,’ she carried on. ‘In my book, we just have to make the best of the cards that we’re dealt.’

As he looked his mum in the eye, she seemed so accepting of everything. Why couldn’t he feel the same?

‘Of course, it helps that when the inevitable does happen, I know you won’t be on your own, you’ll be in good hands. Missy has assured me that she and Maeve will give you all the support you need.’

Dan felt like a part of him was dying along with his mother. Why couldn’t she see he didn’t care about Maeve? He didn’t care if she was there for him or not. He wanted her in his life, not some substitute, which is what Maeve seemed to represent.

‘I don’t want you to go, Mum,’ he said. ‘Not now, not ever.’

‘I know, Son. And goodness knows I don’t want to leave you. But we’ve had a good life together, haven’t we? Better than most.’ She put a hand up and touched his cheek. ‘If truth be known, Dan, I’m almost ready. I’m tired and every day seems to be getting harder.’

Unable to help himself, Dan began to cry. ‘Please don’t say that,’ he said. ‘Please don’t die, Mum.’ But he could see in her face that she meant it.

‘When it’s our time, it’s our time,’ she simply said. She smiled. ‘And it’ll be wonderful to see your father again. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed him.’

As his mother wrapped her arms around him, Dan felt like his heart was being ripped out. He told himself that she wasn’t really choosing his father over him, no matter what the little boy inside said. His tears turned to sobs as she began rocking him back and forth, stroking his head in the same way she used to when he was a child.

‘So you see in the middle of all this sadness, it’s not all bad. We both have a future to look forward to. Your dad’s up there somewhere waiting for me, just like Maeve’s going to be down here for you.’

Dan began to sob even more.