through files and results and it really was good to be back—at least on the unit. He tried not to think about Ava’s lukewarm—or, rather, stone-cold—reception. A long breath came out of his nose as he tried not to think about it but, hell, he’d thought she might be at the airport, he’d even emailed his flight times as a prompt, and then when she hadn’t been he had stopped by the flat, just in case she’d taken the morning off, but of course she was at work.
‘We’ve a new patient this morning.’ Carla handed him a file. ‘Richard Edwards. He was supposed to be in on Friday for his first round of chemotherapy but he cancelled. I wondered if you could have a word with him as he’s ever so anxious. Wouldn’t be surprised if he refuses again.’
‘Sure.’ James read through the file and his colleague Blake’s meticulous notes. Richard was nineteen and had been recently diagnosed with testicular cancer. He was stage one and all his markers were good, but after discussion with Blake he had decided to go ahead with chemotherapy, though he was clearly wavering on that decision now.
‘Where is he?’
‘He’s in the coffee room. Do you want me to bring him through to your office?’
‘I’ll find him.’
James headed down to the patients’ and relatives’ coffee room and met with the young man and his worried parents. ‘I’ll have a chat with Richard …’
‘We’ll come,’ his anxious parents said, but James shook his head.
‘I’ll speak with you all shortly, but first I’d like to speak with Richard himself.’
‘He gets overwhelmed—’
‘I’m sure he does,’ James said. ‘That’s why I’ll go through everything again afterwards.’
‘Thanks for that,’ Richard said as they took a seat in James’s office. ‘They’ve been great and everything, but …’ He struggled to finish his sentence and James tried for him.
‘They’re not the ones going through it?’
Richard nodded. ‘They don’t understand why I wouldn’t want the chemotherapy if it gives you more chance that it won’t come back. Blake seemed to think it was the better option, but he did speak about waiting and watching,’ Richard said. ‘I’ve just started a new job, I’ve got a new girlfriend and she’s been great and everything, but I just can’t imagine …’ He closed his eyes for a moment and James didn’t interrupt. ‘I always look after myself. I’m a vegetarian. I just think I might be able to take care of this myself. I’ve been looking into things …’
‘It’s called watchful waiting,’ James said. ‘There’s no evidence your cancer has spread so if you adopt that approach then you’ll come back regularly for tests—and if it does come back the treatment is still there for you. Some people prefer that, whereas others find it far more stressful and just want the treatment straight away.’ He spent time with Richard, going through everything, giving him pointers to do his own research, and it was good to be back at work with real patients. He liked informing his patients, liked them informed, and Richard was. He didn’t, at this stage, want to go ahead with the treatment, but as they wound up the discussion, along came the question, the one he was asked so many times. ‘What would you do if it was you?’ There were variations to the question, of course—if it was your wife, your mother, your daughter, your son. So often James was asked what he would do in their place, and normally he answered it easily, but maybe he was out of practice, because he hesitated a moment before answering.
‘What you’re doing,’ James said. ‘I’d weigh up my options. Do you want to make another appointment so we can talk again in a couple of weeks?
‘That would be great,’ Richard said. ‘Will you speak with my parents?’
‘Sure.’
It didn’t go down very well, but James took his time with them too, assuring them that it was a valid option, that Richard wasn’t closing any doors—and sometimes, James thought as he headed back to the treatment area, it was the relatives who had the hardest time dealing with things.
‘No go?’ Carla asked.
‘Not at this stage,’ James said. ‘I’ve given him some decent sites to look at and some reading material.’
As he wrote in Richard’s notes James could fully understand Richard’s decision. He was fortunate that he did have options, and chemotherapy wasn’t a decision to be made lightly, or pressured into. He looked through the glass screen at the patients in for treatment this morning and recognised a couple of them.
There was Georgia, back to do battle again, her headphones on. She gave him a smile as she caught him looking over and James returned it, and then he let her be because she closed her eyes and went back to the affirmations she played through the headphones each time her treatment was delivered. Then he looked over at Heath, who didn’t look over or up. He was still too busy controlling the world from his laptop, still insisting the world wouldn’t survive without him for a couple of days …
It just might have to, though.
James must have dropped his suitcase off on his way to the hospital because when Ava walked into the apartment, laden with bags, there it was in the lounge.
She could smell that blasted cologne in the air, just a trace that lingered, and she opened a window to let in some fresh air. They had a two-bedroom apartment at Kirribilli Views. It was the perfect place for a young professional couple and several other medical staff from the hospital lived there. One of the bedrooms was used as James’s study. Many times while he had been away Ava had found herself in there and she found herself in there now. It was always messy. James had forbidden her from tidying it, insisting he knew where everything was. There was their wedding photo on the desk and Ava couldn’t help but think how young and happy they looked. She wandered into their bedroom—well, for the last year or so it had been her bedroom. She kept her home far neater than she kept her office, though it was hard to keep anything tidy with James around, even though they had Gladys, the cleaner, coming once a week. Really, for the last three months Gladys must’ve thought herself on holiday—well, she’d get a shock when she came in this week now that James was back.
She wandered into their en suite. Gladys would have a fit when she saw it, because for the last three months it had been spotless. Ava routinely wiped down the shower after use and folded towels and put them back. James left his clothes where they dropped and his towels too. Funny, that even though he slept on the sofa, he always used the en suite. There was a small bathroom in the hallway, a guest bathroom, and James probably didn’t want to be a guest in his own home.
God, she was nervous, and she jumped when her phone bleeped a text from James telling her he’d be home about seven.
Well, he wasn’t exactly racing home his first night back.
So she put the shopping away and marinated some chicken and tried to tell herself it was ridiculous to feel so nervous. It was just James coming home.
‘Sorry about that.’ She jumped as she heard James’s key in the door. ‘I dropped into Mum’s.’ He was balancing containers of food from Veronica, who seemed to think he needed rations to fortify him. He gave her a kiss but he was still holding the containers, so it was rather hit-and-miss.
‘No problem.’ Ava was used to him being late, so she
