Page 43 of The Inn on Bluebell Lane

“Sarah, there’s no need. They’ll call me when they’re ready, and to be perfectly honest, I’m happy to wait. It will all come soon enough.” She gave her daughter a wan smile that Sarah didn’t return. “Please don’t fuss.”

“I’m not fussing,” Sarah replied as she sat down with a harrumph. “I just want to know what’s going on.”

Gwen suppressed a sigh. “I know.” Just as Ellie had predicted, Sarah had insisted on coming with Gwen to her chemo appointments, even though Matthew and Ellie had offered, as well.

Sarah fidgeted for a few moments, and then rose to go talk to the nurse anyway. Gwen knew she simply couldn’t help herself. She had to do something, to be active and involved, if not in control. Cancer, unfortunately, was not all that controllable, by anyone.

“Gwen Davies?” A nurse in scrubs stood at the door that led to the consulting rooms, scanning the room with a faint smile.

Sarah stopped midway to the desk and Gwen rose from her seat.

“That’s me.”

Her legs felt a little wobbly as she walked toward the nurse with Sarah by her side. She wasn’t scared exactly, but she certainly felt nervous. Although she’d been given a leaflet about what to expect from the treatment, every sterile-sounding fact she’d read in the last week flew out of her head in that moment. She felt like a little child, and she knew then that she was actually glad Sarah was here. She needed her daughter’s commanding presence to carry her along.

The next half-hour passed surprisingly quickly, with the nurse and then the consultant explaining everything to her and then checking her vitals. She was hooked up to an IV and the drip was started while she made herself as comfortable as she could in a reclining chair.

“It looks just like water,” she remarked as she gazed at the droplets being squeezed down the tube and into her body. “Hard to believe it’s something that does so much.” Something that could cure her, but also hurt her. The very nature of chemotherapy, she supposed.

“Yes, and causes so many side effects,” Sarah said, which was no more than Gwen had been thinking, but she didn’t really need her daughter to point it out to her. Sarah looked anxious as she turned to give Gwen a direct look. “Do you think you’re ready for those, Mum?”

“I don’t think anyone can be ready, not exactly.”

She’d been told she’d most likely feel tired and nauseous, and also that she’d probably lose her hair eventually, although maybe not until a second round. Gwen had made a joke that she didn’t have all that much to lose anymore; she wore her hair in a short bob, and it had become thinner and more brittle with age. The nurse had smiled, but Sarah had, quite uncharacteristically, looked close to tears. This was hard for her daughter, Gwen realized afresh, and, unfortunately, she didn’t know how she could make it any better.

Clumsily, because of the IV in her hand, she reached over and patted Sarah’s hand. “It’s going to be okay, Sarah,” she said gently. Even if she knew she couldn’t actually make that promise, she felt her daughter needed to hear it.

“I know,” Sarah replied, so quickly the words sounded rote. “Breast cancer has an incredibly high five-year survival rate now.”

Five years. Once again, Gwen thought that really didn’t sound so long.

She managed a small smile. “That’s good to hear.”

“Is it?” Sarah replied, her lips trembling before she pressed them together. “Sorry. I want to be more positive. I really do. I’m trying—”

“You don’t need to be positive for me,” Gwen told her. She thought she could actually do without her daughter’s determined positivity, not that she would say as much. “It’s okay to be scared, Sarah,” she said instead. “I’m scared.”

“I’m not,” her daughter answered quickly. “I’m not the one with cancer, in any case.”

Gwen’s lips twitched. “True.”

Sarah looked at her unhappily. “I didn’t mean it… unkindly, Mum. I only meant that this is about you, not me. Don’t worry about how I’m feeling. Let’s focus on getting you better.”

Gwen smiled and gestured to the IV. “That’s what we’re doing.”

“Yes.” Sarah nodded and tried to smile, and Gwen wished she was better at comforting her daughter. Clearly Sarah needed it, but Gwen suspected that, to Sarah, accepting any sort of comfort or sympathy smacked of weakness, as well as not being in control.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, she went to talk to the nurse and ask her to adjust the IV, even though Gwen was comfortable enough.

A few minutes after that, she started fussing with the magazines, and urged Gwen to drink some water, and then asked if she wanted a snack.

“Thanks, love, but I think I just want a bit of a rest,” Gwen answered, and closed her eyes.

She knew her daughter meant well, and she loved her dearly, but right then, she felt it was going to be a long few weeks.

CHAPTER 23

JESS