‘It’s not cancer.’
Dr Carter might have said something more. Yes. In fact his lips were still moving, but Charlotte had trouble focusing on the sounds.
It’s not cancer. It’s not cancer.
Wow.
She was aware of Ben squeezing her hand. Of feeling her blood rushing through her ears. Of breathing out. And again. Of feeling a bit dizzy. Of wanting to hug the grumpy old bastard of a doctor. Well, maybe not that.
But relief had never felt so good.
Dr Carter peered over silver, half-rimmed glasses and then looked down at his notes. ‘Yes. The FNA shows a C2 result, which means benign cells. Which means there’s no cancer. There’s nothing to worry about. It was just a large cyst. These things are very common. It’s the best outcome we could have hoped for.’
‘Whoa.’ Charlotte sat back in the plush leather chair, flanked by both her boyfriend and her mother – there really was safety in numbers, after all – and felt her limbs go weak. ‘I’m not… I’m not…’ Going to die. ‘That’s great news.’
‘Thank God,’ her mother said almost inaudibly and Charlotte felt her slump back in her seat. Ben, however, stayed completely still. Processing.
For the first time since they’d met him the doctor smiled and suddenly seemed almost human. ‘Yes. Of course. I understand how frightening it is. I do. I know it’s distressing to have the procedure and the wait, but we have to be sure. We have to run the tests and get the results. It’s all routine.’
‘Yes.’
The doctor closed Charlotte’s paper file in front of him, indicating the consultation was over. ‘So we’ll review you in six months, just to check everything’s okay. Make an appointment at Reception on the way out.’
But Charlotte wasn’t sure her legs would hold her if she stood, so she sat a little longer, gathering her strength. ‘Six months? Is that normal?’
‘Yes. Absolutely. Routine. It’s what we do here at the West London Breast Clinic; just a quick check-up to sign you off. Surveillance.’ He glanced down at her notes. ‘No reason to worry. You’ve no family history of breast cancer, you have no other real risk factors. Actually…’ He peered more closely at the notes. ‘Ah. You’re adopted. So you don’t really know. Is that correct?’
No, I don’t! How many times would she have this conversation? How many times would she not be able to give an answer? ‘No. Um. I mean, yes. No, I don’t know.’
‘Not to worry.’ He dipped his head, mumbling, ‘See you in six months.’
Not to worry? Every medical person she spoke to seemed to think family history was a big deal.
It’s not cancer.
That was all she needed to know, right? She could move on with her life, look forward to the wedding. Plan the wedding. Focus on the wedding. Focus on a future, instead of feeling like she was staring at an abyss of uncertainty.
Ben squeezed her hand and went to stand. ‘Come on, Charlie. Let’s go celebrate. Thanks, Dr Carter.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ came her mum’s voice. Next to her, both sides, she was aware of her support team standing and moving.
She didn’t have cancer.
She closed her eyes. Breathed in and out.
‘Charlie, come on.’ Ben tugged on her hand. ‘He’s got more people to see.’
She opened her eyes and felt as if she was looking at everything for the first time. Clichéd as it was, everything seemed brighter – the colours more vibrant. Sounds louder, crisper. Ben’s hand in hers, safer. The smile in her chest, blooming bigger and bigger. Beautiful relief.
The consultant was writing in the paper notes. No computer for him. Just old-school pen and ink. He nodded. ‘See you in six months. Good day.’
‘Thanks. It is. A very good day.’ Charlotte stood up. Turned to leave.
She looked at Ben’s back, all straight and proud and relieved. At her mother’s eyes, shimmering with happy tears. Charlotte felt it through to her bones. Relief. Pure and simple, like breathing in clean air. Like starting over, being given a free pass. A new slate.
Next to her she felt her mum’s breathing relax. Things were back to normal.
Right?
But…
There was that family-history thing tap tap tapping in her head. Because breast cancer, heart disease, stroke… people kept asking her if she had a family history. She didn’t.
And they both knew theirs. Ben and Eileen with their generations of knowledge. The connections. The risks and the quirks. Ben’s dad had the same-shaped birthmark in exactly the same place on his shin as Ben.
Eileen’s mum had had a problem with her tummy. My funny tummy she’d called it. Eileen got it too when she was nervous.
The freckles that joined the Murphys into one big clan. Their susceptibility to sunburn. The sticky-out tooth on the right side. The cowlicks on both his sisters’ partings.
Family history.
She stopped. Turned round to the doctor again. Wondered if this was appropriate. Or not. Or whether it mattered. Whether any of it mattered and she was just making a mountain out of a nonexistent lump.
Yes, she probably was. Everyone had said it didn’t matter – but only after they’d asked her the question. So, if it didn’t matter, why ask the question at all?
And then there was Eileen to think about. She wouldn’t want all this dragged up in front of the doctor, in front of Ben. She wouldn’t want it dragged up at all. Because they all pretended the adoption issue wasn’t important and didn’t matter, but Charlotte knew it was and that it did.
Before she could stop herself the words came out. ‘Er… I know this probably isn’t your field, Dr Carter, but should I find out about my family history? I mean, is there any kind of test that could give me the answers to all these questions? You know, find any genetic issues… that kind of thing?’
The doctor leaned back in his chair. ‘There are lots of tests, for lots of things. Is there anything in particular you’re worried about?’
‘Well, obviously, breast cancer, seeing as I’m here and with the lump and everything. But sometimes I read about a disease and wonder if it’s lurking in my background, waiting to attack.’
She could feel both her mother and Ben staring at her. She didn’t want to look at them. Because she’d promised she wouldn’t do this. And yet here she was, doing it. With no explanation, only a gut feeling that this was what she should do.
Actually, she should have been floating out of the room on happy air and resolving to plan her wedding with renewed enthusiasm, because she was going to marry Ben and he wasn’t going to have to look after an invalid. She was well! She was fine! She had two boobs and was going to keep them both.
But, she needed answers. This whole experience had left her wanting to find out more. Because if she was really and truly at some kind of risk, and going to have kids at some point in her future, wouldn’t it be useful to have some idea of her bloodline? Something she could hand down to them, answers to those stupid family-history questions. Knowledge was power, after all.
‘We all have the potential for some disease, Charlotte, and a lot of it isn’t hereditary.’ Dr Carter steepled his fingers and indicated for them all to retake their seats. ‘We could arrange for some tests… but I must warn you, sometimes we get results about diseases that may never manifest in you. You could turn out to be positive for a genetic illness, but there may be no inherited positive family indicators. By which I mean, you may have the gene, but it may not have turned into the disease in other members of your blood family. So then it’s difficult to assess real risk.’
‘So actual family history matters, not just a blood test?’
‘A combination of the two, yes. Dependent on the gene and the disease. Plus, there are other things that run in families that you can’t run a genome test for… some brain aneurysms, for example…’
Oh God. Now I’m worried about headaches too. ‘I see. Okay. So, how would I go about getting tested?’
Her mother hadn’t taken her eyes off her. Charlotte still didn’t turn to look but she knew exactly what her expression would be. And she didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want to feel that curl of panic in her gut that meant she was on shaky ground. That questioning this may push her mother to doubt the wisdom of the adoption in the first place. If she didn’t already.
The doctor continued, ‘We could arrange it for you. Or there are plenty of private companies. Be sure, though, to use their counselling services first.’
‘Counselling? Suddenly it sounds like a big deal.’
‘It can be. Just don’t rush into things. There are websites you can look up the details… here…’ Dr Carter scribbled on a piece of paper. ‘Mull it over, let me know. Sometimes it’s good to talk things through first, work out what you want to know. With your mother, and Ben.’
‘Yes. Yes, of course. We’ll sit down and talk, right?’ She looked at them both now, wishing them to nod and smile. They did neither.
She wasn’t sure Ben understood. He’d grown up with four brothers and sisters in a very chaotic but loving household. He’d always known he was wanted, loved and part of something.
Eileen blinked away tears but still didn’t say anything, and Charlotte half wished she hadn’t either. But it was too late and she couldn’t go on lying to herself by omission – if they didn’t talk about it, it hadn’t happened, right? But it had happened and she was so full of questions.
Because, who abandons a baby? Was it something about Charlotte that her birth mum hadn’t wanted? What was wrong with her? Was there something wrong? There was always a question. Why?
It seemed the more Charlotte contemplated her future, the more questions were thrown up. Not just about disease. Not just about her cells and her organs and her blood, but about her bloodline. And instead of sinking into the relief of a more certain future, her mind kept pushing her to the past.
Where do I come from? Who am I?
A dancer. A business owner. A fiancée. A daughter. A ticking time bomb, perhaps? Probably, just nothing of note. But after everything she’d just been through, it would be better to have some idea, surely?
***
‘I’ll be honest, babe, I don’t understand why you need to go thinking about having more blood tests, especially when the doc says you’re fine.’ Standing in the lounge Ben pressed the roller into the tray of white paint then wiped off the excess and climbed the stepladder. His voice was soft, gentle. ‘What if you find out something weird? I just don’t want you to get hurt, Charl, that’s all.’
Charlotte put down the damp cloth she’d been wiping down the window frames with and leaned on the windowsill and took a gulp from her water bottle. Prepping the surfaces was thirsty work, there was dust in her hair, on her clothes, in her lungs. ‘Think about it… if you didn’t know anything about your parents or your past, wouldn’t you be just a little bit curious?’
Ben paused. Thought. ‘No. I don’t think I would. I don’t think it matters. You’ve been fine until now. You’re still fine. Just a bit lumpy.’
‘Oi!’ She threw the rag at him, missed completely, then palmed her breasts through her T-shirt. ‘I happen to be very attached to my lumps, thank you.’
‘Me too. I like your boobs very much. All three of them.’ Winking, he stretched again towards the ceiling, baring his midriff. She watched him for a moment, the stretch and pull of his muscles. Gorgeous.
Even after three years of living with him she loved to watch him do things. What she’d been attracted by – apart from the police-fit body and sense of humour – had been that he always attacked everything with determination and enthusiasm. There was a raw physicality and that good-with-his-hands thing…
Only, she was starting to forget what that felt like.
There’d been a time when they’d spent their rare evenings together in bed, but tonight dinner had been rushed because he’d wanted to get on with the decorating. Building a future, baby. He shook his head. ‘Listen, Charl. We got lucky with the lump results/ I’m still getting over that, and you are too. You’ve been distracted and fuzzy since then, like you’re walking in a haze. It’s been two weeks since the all clear and I want my Charlotte back.’
Guilt shimmied through her. They’d bounded from the lump scare right into full-on wedding prep but she knew her head hadn’t been in it. Her heart was, though. She still wanted to marry him, more than anything. But she couldn’t shake these thoughts no matter how hard she tried.
They’d walked away from the consultation in a whirl. Jumped into the nearest bar and bought a bottle of champagne and drank it, heady on relief. Laughing at silly plans for their wedding day. Talked about how lucky they were when there were people not so lucky. And no one had mentioned the conversation about getting tests done or the adoption. Which she’d thought at the time was because they were focusing on celebrating, but then still no one mentioned it.
The conversation with Dr Carter had been going around and around in her head since then, heightened by watching the mothers drop off their daughters at the studio, the similarities in mannerisms mesmerising Charlotte. The differences too. The subconscious loving touches, the fierce primal protection. Making family history every day.
Sometimes her heart ached at what that would feel like – a real-life connection with someone who had the same blood running through their veins. Someone she really truly belonged to. Had she missed out? She didn’t think so. Eileen had been amazing.
But Charlotte wanted to make that connection. To find out more about who she was, about this blood in her veins? Did she have siblings somewhere? People who shared her DNA?
But when she’d finally brought it up over dinner tonight with Ben, he hadn’t been a hundred per cent onboard. Truth was, something inside her had opened up and she felt like she was chasing treasure, or her real story or something. Finding out who she was. Surely she could do that as well as plan the wedding and run her business? ‘Don’t worry, Ben. I’m here. I am. I’m still me.’
‘Yeah, physically. But sometimes you’re here but not here. You’re busy in your head.’ He gave her a hesitant smile. ‘If it’s not absolutely essential to have the blood test now, then can we wait? Just a while, please, just a few more weeks… maybe after the wedding… At least, until my heart can cope with another drama.’
But… oh, bless him. He’d been knocked about by the lump events as much as she had. She hadn’t really thought about that, how much he’d had to cope with and how worried he must have been. And he was right, there was no real hurry.
With one easy stretch, Ben rolled another stripe of clean white across the dirty, yellowed ceiling.
Wouldn’t it be easy if you could do that with your life, Charlotte thought. Just brush over everything and start over. Maybe that’s what her birth mum had done. Handed the baby over and started over. Or, even more likely, just carried on after what she’d considered to be a minor life blip.
Had her mother handed her over because she just couldn’t love another person? Is that what Charlotte had in store? Maybe having a baby and being genetically unable to love it?
Did she really love anyone? Did anyone? How did you even know?
God, the questions were coming thick and fast and they were almost surreal sometimes. Shaking her up, making her re-evaluate everything about herself.
She started to put masking tape between the window frames and the glass so she could put a coat of gloss on. There weren’t many evenings when they were both free to do this, so she needed to grab the opportunity to talk things through when she could. ‘I don’t know how to explain it, Ben. It’s like an itch I need to scratch. I mean, I really, really need to know more. I can’t help it. Does that sound selfish?’
He huffed out a breath as he stretched again. ‘So you’re going to go through with it? This blood test thing?’
She noted the way he didn’t answer her question. So yes, she was probably being selfish by focusing on this and not the wedding and the preparations when she had the rest of her life to chase her family history.
‘No. Not the blood test. Not yet.’ But after going over and over and over it all, she’d come to the only decision that made any sense to her. ‘I’m going to find my birth mum.’
‘Whoa. Okay.’ Ben stood stock-still, roller in midair; the only thing moving was the dip in his forehead as he frowned in confusion. ‘That’s a bit of a leap. You haven’t spoken about her for years and now you want to find her?’
Because, silence around her adoption was a rule she’d abided by since the age of eight. Just because she hadn’t said the words out loud didn’t mean she hadn’t felt them. ‘By law I’ve been able to do it since I was eighteen. Don’t you think we should know everything we can possibly find out? For our kids? Won’t they deserve to know who they are?’
That seemed to resonate. He knew his family tree, both sides, back five generations. There was a pause as he digested this. Then, ‘What about Eileen?’
‘I don’t want to hurt Mum, of course not. But I’m twenty-five, Ben. I’m pretty sure she’s been expecting it for a while. She’s always been completely honest about my adoption and said I should do what I felt was right when the time came.’ But she still felt the stirrings of betrayal. That she was stirring a hornets’ nest. Making trouble, widening the gap between her and Eileen. ‘I want some answers to a zillion questions.’
‘What like?’ His eyes narrowed as he tried to understand.
She twisted from side to side and stretched out her back. Where to start? ‘Who am I?’
‘That’s easy.’ Grinning, he jumped from the stepladder, put the roller on the tray, then came over and wrapped his arms around her waist, his fingers splayed out to stop getting paint on her. He pecked a kiss onto her nose. He was trying to make light of it, to take it in his stride, he really was. ‘You are a very sexy Miss Charlotte Evans. Soon to be an even sexier Mrs Charlotte Murphy.’
‘I know. And I really can’t wait.’ There was a swell in her chest at that thought. God, she loved this man. Resting her head against his chest she felt the rhythm of his heart. Strong and steady, just like him.
He squeezed against her, giving her his love and his heat as always. ‘We are a family. Isn’t that enough?’
It should have been, probably. ‘You’re enough, yes. Of course. Yes. I just—’
‘Just what?’
Want more. That realisation was like a punch to her gut. She wanted to be part of something bigger than just herself, with a shared past and a present and a future. She was about to marry into a lovable, large Irish family; couldn’t she just share theirs? It should have been enough. ‘Oh, nothing…’
For a moment she saw hurt flash in his face, then his eyes brightened into a tease and he kissed her hard. His hand strayed to her right breast and he groaned against her as he stroked across her nipple. Tentative. Unsure. ‘I’m so glad I have you all in one piece. I’m so glad you’re okay. Hello, my beauties…’ He nuzzled into her cleavage. Stopped, looked right into her eyes. ‘Are you okay with this? Are we okay doing this?’
‘Of course. Yes. Yes, please.’
‘It doesn’t hurt?’
‘No. What hurts is you keeping your distance.’ She pulled his mouth back to hers. He wanted her. He still wanted her. He still wanted to touch her.
And yes, this was the first time he’d been physical with her, and yes she should have just gone with it, taken him upstairs, or on the stairs, or in here on the plastic-covered furniture, but when they came up for air the issue hadn’t gone away, not for her at least. ‘I’ve done a bit of research on the internet and there are companies who can do all the digging for you. It won’t take up much of my time, just theirs.’
There was a heavy sigh and he moved away, his hand dropping from her breast, leaving cool, sterile, paint-scented air between them. ‘Anything takes up too much time, Charl, when it interrupts this…’
‘No. Sorry. Sorry. I was just… thinking.’
‘Not about the same thing as me, obviously.’
‘Oh yes. I was. I want you to kiss me, Ben. I like it. I love you. I’m sorry. It’s been a very unsettling few weeks and my head’s messed up.’ She reached for him but he went back to the stepladder. The mood smashed.
For a few minutes they worked in silence. She’d ruined the only playful moment they’d had in weeks. She’d have to make it up to him somehow.
‘What else did you find out?’ His voice was resigned. ‘About these companies?’
‘It doesn’t matter. Honestly. I’m sorry. Let’s talk about something else.’
‘I know you’re sorry. I’m trying to understand. Go on… tell me what you found out.’
‘No, it’s okay.’
‘Charl, clearly it isn’t. If you’ve spent time and effort on this and it’s taking your attention away from making out with me then you could at least tell me what you know, and what happens next.’
Which wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement of her plans, but it was sort of a green light. Well, an amber one. Her heart gave a little skip. ‘Well… not a lot. It’s just preliminary stuff. I give them her name… Carol. Carol Burns. And her date of birth.’ That was pretty much all she knew about her. On Charlotte’s adoption papers it gave the name of her mother. The father’s details had been left blank. Carol had been fifteen and a school student. What was she now? Did she have other children she’d kept? Was she even alive?
And Ben was right about this too. Why now? Why did it suddenly matter?
It just did. Maybe it was because she was going to be making a huge life change soon. She didn’t know, it was hard to explain this feeling; that she couldn’t move forward without looking back. ‘The websites say they can investigate and make contact. It’s only a small fee and then I could know where she is as early as next week.’
‘A small fee?’ Money was tight. Everything they had was accounted for.
But this was important and he’d said they could be more flexible, but she had a hunch he hadn’t meant it about spending money on things like this. ‘Honestly, it’s not much. Not even two hundred pounds. I’ll take it out of the hen party fund or something. But, at the end of the day, it’s not about the money, is it?’
He waved his paintbrush from side to side. ‘I don’t have a good feeling about this, to be honest, but if you need to, you need to.’
‘I’ve been over and over it all in my head and done lots of research. You can read people’s stories on the internet.’
‘Hmmmm, and you might find out a whole lot of things you’d prefer not to know.’ Sighing one more time, he stepped down the ladder again and came back to her. Taking both her hands in his, he looked straight into her eyes. He could be organised and controlled and sometimes stubborn, but also passionate and gooey at just the right moments ‘I’m just trying to protect you, baby. Be careful what you wish for. Sweetheart, she might have been raped. She might be dead. Or worse…’
‘What could be worse than that? And what could be worse than thinking I’m about to have my boob taken off ? Or that I have cancer? What could be worse than what we’ve just been through? This can only be a good thing, Ben.’
His voice softened, as if he was breaking bad news the way he’d been trained. ‘It’s hard to think about it, but she might not want to find you. It’s not always hearts and roses in these kinds of things. We see some of it at work, you know. The fallout. She rejected you once, so she might do it again.’
‘And I want to find out why. Why, Ben? What’s wrong with me?’
‘Absolutely nothing, honey. Nothing at all.’ His lips pressed together as he cupped her face. ‘You are perfect and she must have been desperate to have to give you away. Insane. But you’ve never said you wanted to find her until now – this minute. You said you wanted to know about genetic things.’ He shook his head. ‘Why not have a longer think about it, talk to some people like Dr Carter said. Don’t rush it. I don’t want you to get hurt, not after what you’ve just been through, or Eileen.’
Eileen. Guilt shimmied through her. Even if it was for all the right reasons, Charlotte could do no end of hurt, but she’d been thinking about this since they’d left Dr Carter’s office. All her life.
There were so many pros and cons. So many reasons why not. But she didn’t want to get to the end of her own life and regret not having tried. More, she didn’t want to find herself not just wanting, but needing, answers when it was too late. If not for herself, but for any kids who came along after their five-year plan.
‘I know, Ben, I understand all that. But, isn’t that a risk worth taking?’