A Hundred Pieces of Me (51 page)

Her phone rang as she was crossing the road opposite her flat.

‘Just bossy old me, I’m afraid,’ said Naomi. She was trying to cover up her concern, but Gina could hear it. ‘I waited as long as I could. How did it go?’

‘Fine.’ She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

‘Are you crying? Oh, my God, Gee. Where are you?’

‘I’m in the high street. I’m just . . . emotional.’

‘You stay there,’ said Naomi. ‘I’m coming to get you. You’re having dinner with us tonight.’

‘I’ve got Buzz with me.’

‘Well, obviously he’s invited too.’ Naomi snorted. ‘Willow would never forgive me if she missed a chance to have dinner with the smiling doggy.’

Dinner at the Hewsons’ was always noisy but fun, even though now it started at six and finished with Willow’s diva-like departure from the table at seven, with kisses blown in every direction.

Jason volunteered for bath duties so Gina and Naomi could talk, and when Buzz had settled himself in the kitchen, they went through to the cosy sitting room Gina had helped Naomi decorate.

‘But it all went fine at the hospital?’ Naomi kicked off her shoes and curled into the soft leather armchair. She peered anxiously at Gina. ‘I know it’s upsetting whatever they do.’

‘I think so. They just ran the usual tests, asked if I’d had any new symptoms, checked my meds.’ Gina turned her coffee mug round in her hands. ‘It’s not that. I just . . . I can never help thinking about what things
could
have been like. If I hadn’t had Stuart there to support me, or if I hadn’t had you. It makes me realise every year how lucky I am.’ She raised her eyes to Naomi’s. ‘Most of the time, I forget how horrible it was, but when I go there, it comes back – how
scared
I was. Not the pain, just the sick feeling of not knowing what was coming next.’

‘Listen, there’s nothing wrong with taking a moment to remember all that, so you can really appreciate how strong you were, but don’t dwell on it,’ said Naomi. ‘This year’s your five-year appointment. And that’s . . .’

‘It’s not a guarantee of anything. It just means it’s in remission.’ Gina tried to put the churning sensation in her stomach into words. It had retreated during supper, when Willow had shone her sunny smiles over the table, but now, alone with Naomi, rainclouds seemed to move across the back of her mind. ‘I had this feeling, when I was leaving, that I shouldn’t waste any more time, just in case. Didn’t I promise I would
do
stuff when I got better? And what have I done? Really?’

‘What? You
have
done stuff. You’ve set up your own business. You’ve got divorced and moved house. What else were you supposed to have done? Climbed Everest? Cut yourself some slack, woman.’

‘No, I mean . . .’ Gina’s voice trailed away as the reasons slipped out of reach. Things were fine now. She did feel stronger, more in control of what happened to her, but she felt so far behind everyone else.

What is it that I feel I haven’t done? Gina asked herself. Why do I feel there’s something missing when I have a flat, a business? I have friends.

She thought of Buzz’s tail, wagging with delight when he saw her. I want to mean something to someone, she thought. I want to be a vital piece of someone else’s life too. It gave her a metallic pang inside.

‘Tell me,’ said Naomi. ‘Come on, what’s up?’

She shook her head and smiled uneasily. ‘I don’t know. It’s the hospital. It just makes me jumpy. Every time I leave that place I can’t even have a headache without worrying that it’s a sign of secondaries in my brain.’

‘Well, that’s understandable. But look at you. The picture of health! I haven’t seen you looking so good in ages. It’s all the time you’re spending outside staring at that roof in Langley St Michael.’ A mischievous look came into Naomi’s eyes and she lifted a finger. ‘Aha. Don’t tell me this is a ploy to make a move on Nick Rowntree under the guise of not wasting any more time.’

‘No!’ Gina was outraged. ‘That is an appalling thing to say! In fact, of all the appalling things you’ve said about my breast cancer, that is almost certainly the worst.’

‘Although not the most untrue.’

‘It
is
untrue.’ At the thought of Nick, Gina felt a wave of wistfulness sweep her, the same sadness she’d felt as a teenager, knowing she’d never see Joy Division play live. ‘It’s the wrong time, and in the wrong place. It’s a shame. But you’re right, in a way. I did come out of there this afternoon thinking I should start telling people how I feel more. You never know what’s going to happen.’

‘They shouldn’t make you walk through A&E, for a start. That big pregnant mammal statue thing’s enough to finish anyone off. They should put something nicer near the front, I reckon. Not sure what, though.’

‘When were you in A&E?’ Gina rolled her eyes. ‘Did Jason’s knee go again?’

Jason’s knee was prone to ‘going’ during football matches. His various strappings had won their own award one year at the annual club dinner: Best Supporter.

‘What?’ she demanded, when Naomi didn’t answer immediately. ‘Come on. Tell me.’

‘Um, we have news.’ Naomi wriggled in her chair. ‘Argh, I can’t not tell you any more! It’s been killing me! I wanted to wait until everything was fine with you, you know, today’s appointment, but . . . guess what?’ She drummed the arm of her chair.

At once Gina knew, but she played along. Excitement struggled with the distant leaden feeling of being left out. She forced it to one side.

‘What? You want another shed? Give me time to get over the last one, please.’

‘No, stupid. You’re going to be an unofficial auntie again!’

Gina clasped her cheeks in pretend shock. ‘You’re having a baby?’

‘Yes!’ Naomi’s face flushed. She looked about fourteen – excited and nervous and radiant. ‘It wasn’t planned exactly but . . . yes! He or she’s due in January so this Christmas is going to be
soooo
boring.

‘You’re okay, aren’t you?’ she added, hastily. ‘I know it’s not great timing with Stuart and everything.’

‘Of course I’m okay!’ said Gina. ‘I’m thrilled. Honestly. C’mere, give me a hug. I’m so, so pleased for you.’

They hugged in the middle of the room, and as Gina squeezed Naomi more gently than usual, her head crammed with thoughts. She was so
lucky
to have a friend like Naomi, who could make black jokes at the right time, and knew her well enough to be honest. She was starting from scratch again now, a single woman in her thirties with Tamoxifen and a business loan, but at least she had Naomi and all the love the Hewsons gave her.

But. But . . .

Underneath her arms, Naomi’s shoulders rose and fell jaggedly, and when she looked, Gina saw she was crying. That was when she realised she was too.

‘Why are you crying?’ Gina sobbed.

‘I don’t know.’ Naomi gulped and held her at arm’s length so she could look her in the eye. Her expression was contorted with emotion. ‘I’m just so glad you’re still here. I’m so glad Willow gets to grow up with you around, and the new baby’ll have you in its life too. I always wanted a sister growing up, but you’ve been so much better than that. Thinking about you at the hospital today – it’s just been reminding me all day about how close we came to losing you.’

‘But you didn’t,’ said Gina. She laughed, a squelchy sound because of the tears. ‘I don’t know why we’re crying. There’s nothing to cry about. I’m fine.’

Naomi wiped her eyes. ‘It’s the bloody hospital. I always come home and cry after my smear test. There’s something about being up there that reminds you how easily things can go wrong.’

‘And the probes,’ said Gina. ‘No one likes having their parts probed.’

Naomi laughed, and wiped her nose. ‘No, that’s true.’

They looked at each other, their smiles smudged with tears, and Gina knew it wasn’t going to be easy, juggling their friendship with another baby, another demand on Naomi’s time and love. But they’d work out a way of doing it. Theirs was a friendship that stretched forwards as well as backwards. It would stretch in any direction it needed to, in order to keep them together.

Chapter Twenty-two

ITEM
: a thick sheaf of coloured printed garden-party invitations for various drinks parties in New College, Oxford from 1998–2001, hole-punched in the corner, tied up on a yellow ribbon

Oxford, June 2001

No one has ever driven Gina’s Mini apart from her, not even Kit, and the seat doesn’t go back quite far enough for him to fold his long legs in comfortably.

But Gina’s drunk too much to drive, and she’s in no state to concentrate even if she wanted to, so Kit squashes himself in and tries to adjust the mirrors and the seat so he can at least get it out of the tiny parking space Gina’s managed to find.

‘Careful!’ she says automatically, as he comes within a whisker of scraping it against the Land Rover behind.

‘OK!’

‘Sorry, sorry.’ It’s just that she can’t bear the thought of any damage occurring to her car, if Terry isn’t there to fix it. She makes a wild bargain with the universe: if the car can stay perfect, Terry will too.

The traffic out of town is painfully slow, and Gina can feel herself wanting to sweep the cars out of their path with one powerful backhand swipe. It’s the Pimm’s. Or, she concedes guiltily, not that she’ll tell Kit, possibly the speed she took to wake herself up. She regretted it as soon as it was done, but it’s done now. Precious minutes are ticking away, and she has no idea what’s happening with Terry. He could be dead already. He could be waiting for her. Clinging on to say goodbye. That would be just like him. Waiting.

All the times she made Terry wait flash before her. Outside school discos. At the station. At Christmas.

‘Why is it so slow?’ She nearly weeps.

Kit’s hand reaches over and covers hers. Not hard, given that the car’s so small inside that his left knee is rammed against the handbrake. ‘I don’t want to say relax, but it’s going to take us a certain amount of time to get there, and that’s all there is to it. We’re on the way.’

‘I know.’ Gina swallows. She wants to be calm but her body won’t co-operate. Her heart’s racing. ‘I know.’

‘Is your Auntie Sylvia going up to the hospital now?’

‘Yes, she was just waiting for me to ring back.’ Another thing to feel bad about: Auntie Sylvia having to hang around by her mother’s telephone table instead of rushing to her brother’s bedside, just because selfish Gina drank fishbowls of Pimm’s at a garden party.

Oh, God. Is this her fault somehow? For not going to a university closer to home? For wanting to be nearer Kit?

Gina wonders if the guilt will stay with her for ever, like a scar, if she can’t get home in time to see Terry. Her brain is making weird connections, the sort that seem very profound when she and Kit are stoned and listening to Radiohead but which now scare her. She feels like an astronaut, returning from outer space to the earth too fast. Her home world and her university world have always seemed like different universes, and she’s been different people in them. They’ve never crashed into each other like this. The consequences have never occurred to her.

‘Shit. Mum’ll go mad if she realises I’ve been drinking,’ she says aloud, hearing her voice slur.

‘You’ll have sobered up by then. I should give my mum a call when we stop for petrol,’ says Kit. He has to shout a bit over the raw sound of the little engine. ‘Let her know I won’t be back.’

‘Does she know you’re with me?’

It’s no secret Kit’s mother hasn’t grown to like Gina over the years. It’s not that Anita dislikes her, she just doesn’t think the relationship is going anywhere. She’s made that clear on the infrequent occasions Gina’s met her and she’s affected surprise that Gina’s still on the scene.

Kit pauses too long, and she knows that, no, Anita Atherton doesn’t know where he is.

‘Kit!’ She glances at him – too quickly, sudden movements make her feel nauseous.

‘No, it’s not like that.’ He frowns, and changes down to overtake a slow-moving pensioner. The Mini howls in protest at the unusually proactive driving. ‘I’m supposed to be at a wedding this weekend, one of Mum’s cousins, in Hampstead. I said I was going up to Oxford to see some mates, and that I’d be away till Monday.’

‘You could have just told her you were with me.’

‘I thought it would be easier on you if I didn’t.’ He glances across, anxious that she sees that he means it. ‘I didn’t want to get into an argument about which is most important, family or you. Obviously it’s you. But she’d probably pull out some distant relative who could get me an interview at Deloitte and we’d be back into the job argument again.’

‘Well, if we’re going travelling, will you tell her you’re with me then?’

‘Of course.’

They drive for a bit, and then he glances back, a cheekier twinkle in his eyes. ‘Does that mean you’ll come?’

Gina’s heart thuds. ‘Guess so.’

It’s as easy as that with Kit. Decide it; do it. When she’s with him, she’s the kind of girl who thinks like that too.