Emma Heatherington - A Part of Me and You - An empowering and incredibly moving novel that will make you laugh and cry

I turn to face him and lean on the windowsill with my arms folded.

‘It’s a bit more complicated than that, as you know, Michael,’ I say to him, unable to look him in the eye but I can tell he is raising an eyebrow. ‘Oh you know it is, don’t look at me like that!’

I am watching him now and just as I’d predicted, he is giving me a ‘tough shit’ glare.

‘Dan and I have both accepted that he can’t cope with me and my sickness,’ I remind him. ‘And I don’t know that I can cope with him right now either. He has his own problems that he has to deal with, but I will tell him soon – just not yet. For his own good, not mine.’

Michael puts his head in his hands. He is almost as devastated as I am with this mess – and what a mess it really is when you realise you are going to leave behind everything you love. It’s like you need to pack up to go somewhere, but you’re going nowhere really; how the hell do you plan for that?

‘You can’t just block him out of this, Juliette,’ Michael says. ‘The man must be climbing the walls with worry. Do you even know where he is right now?’

I shrug.

‘His mother’s house, probably? Or with his sister?’

The truth is, I don’t know at all. I don’t have any idea where my husband is and right now it’s better that way for me, for him, and for Rosie.

‘And you really think that it’s okay that you don’t know?’

I nod. I shrug again. I don’t know what to say.

‘Today might change all that, obviously,’ I tell him. ‘And maybe it won’t. I will have to think about it carefully as I’m sure you understand – I mean, you probably know me almost as well as he does by now.’

Dr Michael and I long ago ditched the doctor-patient formalities and admitted that we had actually become really good friends. We talk about everything from American rock music to favourite one-pot recipes (he’s newly single) to our shared Irish roots, and I even gave him relationship advice once – though I’m the last person who should be doing so. The very, very last person. We’ve argued a lot too when the going got tough.

‘You are the most annoying and stubborn person I have ever met,’ he tells me, managing a light smile. ‘And I mean that in the nicest possible way.’

‘Yes, yes, you’ve told me that many times before,’ I say, rolling my eyes. ‘Look, I just need some time to get my head around this all and then I’ll talk to Dan. I know I don’t have the luxury of time but I need to just … I need to think about things. No matter how much I’ve dreaded this moment, and I knew that it might come soon, it’s still a massive shock to hear my days are numbered. And the sickening thing is that I don’t feel sick right now. I feel fine! How cruel and weird is that?’

We pause in silence.

‘The sickness will come quite soon, unfortunately,’ says Michael. ‘So enjoy this time while it lasts. You will have the option of palliative care of course, when you feel you need it. And you will have to think about home versus hospice care just like we talked about before, plus your steroid management and what sort of pain control you want.’

The clock is ticking again, so loudly.

I don’t have much time to do an awful lot and we both know it.

‘What will I do now? I mean, next, Michael?’ I ask him. ‘What am I actually supposed to do right now? I’m so scared even though I’m trying to be brave. Please tell me what to do. Where do I go from here? How do I start preparing for my life to end?’

So many questions hang there in the air, like they are stuck in a cartoon speech bubble above my head. A series of questions that no one has the answers to.

Or so I thought.

‘Are you asking me what you should do now as your friend, or as your doctor?’ he asks me, the pain etched in his eyes.

‘I’m asking you as … I’m asking you as my friend, I guess.’

He gulps. He waits.

‘As your friend,’ he says. ‘Okay, right now, as your friend, I think you should take a few days to yourself. Get away from it all before you get very sick.’

‘What?’

This is not what I expected.

‘Go somewhere nice where you’ve always wanted to go. I mean now. It’s your birthday, Juliette. Go tomorrow if you can, but just do it,’ he says. ‘Pack up and go away somewhere for a couple of days, even a week if you can manage it. I really think you should do something just for you.’

I roll my eyes again.

‘Oh Michael, that’s a really sweet suggestion but as if I could,’ I tell him. ‘Somehow, I can’t see myself mustering up the energy to jump on a plane to anywhere exotic with this time bomb ticking in my head. I mean the thought sounds good, thanks and all that, but I have the small matter of a teenage daughter to think of. Not to mention my job. I’ve a few features I need to write up. God, that sounds so unimportant in the wider scheme of things, doesn’t it? A job? Who cares about their job when they’re about to die?’

Michael takes his glasses off. This means he really is determined now. He stands up.

‘I obviously wasn’t thinking about jumping on a plane to anywhere exotic,’ he replies. He has dropped his pen onto the table. ‘I’m not talking about New York or the Bahamas or a trip to Niagara Falls, Juliette. I’m merely suggesting you just go somewhere quieter … well, quieter than here for a little while. Away from questions and worry and watching the clock tick your time away. Somewhere to reflect, to think, to savour your own wellbeing, to get your head around all of this … somewhere not too far away, but away from all of this . I am suggesting this as your friend, not your doctor. You should do it for just a few days. Just go.’

‘Just go …’ I repeat after him and those two simple words echo around my head.

I know he means well but going away somewhere is seriously the last thing on my mind today after what I have just been told. I still have to explain all of this mess to Rosie, not to mention planning the poor child’s future without me, I have a big sister who is tearing her hair out with frantic worry, a devastated mother and father who will be totally inconsolable and Dan, my husband who … well, he is the one I worry about the most, apart from Rosie. Dan, my true love, my best friend and the person who knows me the best in the whole world. I don’t know if I will be able to tell him at all. I can’t imagine saying the words to him. I just can’t bear to hurt him so much all over again as I know exactly what he will do to cope and it’s something I can’t begin to think about right now.

‘How about a few days in Ireland?’ asks Michael, with a deep breath. ‘Take the ferry. Go to that place you told me about … what’s it called, Killarry? You said it’s beautiful there. That would be nice, no? Three days? A weekend even?’

Jesus, did he just say Ireland? The very suggestion of going back there fills my stomach with butterflies and my heart flutters at the thought of it.

‘You mean Killara,’ I correct him and I close my eyes. ‘God, Michael, that would be like going to heaven, pardon the pun. The sea, the quiet, the peace … never mind the memories … ah, what did you have to mention that place for?’

‘Sorry, I just thought it was somewhere you spoke so fondly of,’ says Michael. ‘It’s accessible. Not a million miles away but far enough away to get away if you know what I mean?’

Killara. I bite my lip. My sweet, dear Killara where some of my fondest, maddest, most life changing memories were made. Now, contrary to my initial dismissal of his suggestion of a short getaway, I’m beginning to consider it.

‘Do you really think I could manage a trip there?’ I ask him. ‘It would be really strange to relive all those memories … but maybe it would be just what I need to distract me from what’s about to happen. Do you think I could?’