Blood Loss by Kerena Swan (brene brown rising strong .txt) 📗

‘I had some water, thanks.’

I fetch a glass of orange juice then perch on the arm of the sofa. Dad would have told me off for this. He always said arms weren’t strong enough to be sat on. I feel guilty and slide onto the seat. Grace’s ironing is smooth and thorough. She’s one of those if-a-job’s-worth-doing-it’s-worth-doing-well people who has more patience than I’ll ever have. Housework bores me to distraction. Grace reduces the volume on the television. She must have sensed that I need to talk because this is the first chance I’ve had since yesterday.

‘What do you think is wrong with Mum?’ I ask her. ‘Why didn’t she tell us she’s ill? We’re her daughters.’ I’d never call Grace ‘only’ the cleaner – there’s no ‘only’ about honest hard work – and in any case she’s also become a friend. But she isn’t actually family and I’m hurt that Mum confided in Grace before us.

‘She wasn’t going to tell me either but I saw her wincing and asked her what was wrong. She tried to tell me it was nothing but I made it clear I wasn’t going to be fobbed off so it all came out. Apparently, she’s been to the doctor and he’s referred her for a CT scan.’ Grace lifts a silk blouse from the ironing board and drapes it onto a padded hanger. ‘Shouldn’t you be talking to your mum about this instead of me?’

‘She’d probably give me the sweetened version like she did the other day when she told me she was losing weight to get healthy. I want to know the facts, Grace. What are her symptoms and what does the doctor think it is?’

‘She’s been getting stomach pains and she has no appetite. When she does eat, she feels sick. The doctor said it could be a number of different things but the scan will tell them more.’

I feel sick myself. This sounds bad and I’m tempted to Google the symptoms but I know that will probably only scare me even more. How many times over the past few months have I offered Mum some food and she’s said she’s already eaten?

‘When’s the scan?’ I ask.

‘I don’t know. You’ll need to ask her.’ Grace stops ironing for a moment and stares out of the French doors to the garden. She blinks then fishes a tissue from her pocket and blows her nose.

I’m touched by how much she cares about Mum but even more alarmed about it all now. I get up abruptly and go upstairs. Mum’s bedroom door is open and I see her sitting on her bed with a book in her hand but she isn’t reading it. She’s staring at the wall.

‘Mum?’ I continue into her room. ‘Grace tells me you haven’t been feeling well.’

‘Not quite myself, no, but that’s to be expected when you lose your husband.’ She closes the book and rubs the raised title with her fingertips.

‘Grace says you’re going for a CT scan.’

‘I told her not to say anything. I didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily.’

‘She only told us because she thought it would stop us arguing. When is it? I could take you, if you like?’

‘It’s on Tuesday. Thanks for offering but I can drive myself and I think I’d rather get there in one piece.’ She lifts her head and laughs but I’m not fooled.

I’m also a bit miffed. I might have been a scary driver when Mum took me out as a learner but I’m a good driver now. I sit next to her on the bed.

‘Are you worried? What do you think’s wrong with you?’

‘I’ll be fine.’ Mum puts her book aside then turns to take both of my hands. ‘Jenna, I want you and Lucy to make up. All this friction between you is stressing me out. Maybe that’s why I feel sick.’

I think her illness is about more than her daughters falling out with each other, but I take a deep breath and say, ‘I’ll try.’

God knows how I’ll manage it, though. I still suspect Lucy of spooking Merlin. She could have caused me or him a serious injury. I realise I’m actually more than a little wary of her too. Bickering – even serious bickering – is one thing, but trying to hurt me physically is serious shit.

Mum must have guessed the direction my thoughts have taken. ‘I can’t believe Lucy would do a thing like that. I’ve spoken to her and asked her to be at the Stripes coffee shop in Woburn Sands at four thirty to meet you. She’s leaving work early. You’ll like it there. They do vegan paninis and stuff. Can you do this for me?’

Bloody hell. ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Sure.’

I reach the café early to give Lucy no excuse for criticising my punctuality, or rather the lack of it. She’s still there before me. Her hair is scraped back into a tight pleat and she’s wearing very little make-up. She’s in a neat blouse and cardigan and looks like she’s had a spinal rod inserted.

I remind myself that this is for Mum and walk towards her. ‘Not working late today?’ Lucy usually claims to work late every day.

‘I arranged to finish early to please Mum.’

From her expression she wants to be here even less than I do. I order a smoothie and a slab of carrot cake then sit down. Lucy glares at the cake resentfully. She’s always watching her weight but is still a bit plump whereas I can eat whatever I like and still stay slim. Maybe that’s another reason why she dislikes me – but surely not enough to hurt me. She watches me eat and neither of us speaks.

‘This is ridiculous,’ I eventually say. ‘You must have something to talk about.’

‘How about you begin the conversation with an apology for stealing my fiancé?’

I’d rather chew a slug than kiss that knob-head again but we’re here to heal our rift for Mum