Louisa George - The Other Life of Charlotte Evans

Charlotte sat back down at the table and motioned for her mum to sit again too. She took the paper from her trembling, liver-spotted hands and folded it. ‘I was going to tell you… honestly, Mum. Just not today. Not with all this going on. I wanted us to have some time to talk it all through. I’ve… well, I’ve found a lump in my breast and I need to get it checked out.’

More raucous laughter, and now music. Charlotte imagined the girls dancing and singing with no idea about the fallout in the kitchen.

‘A lump. I see.’ Again, Eileen ran her palms down her thighs, choosing her words. Measuring her emotions. Always, she was the invested, interested parent using difficult situations as learning opportunities, protecting her child from heartache – it worked both ways, it seemed. Tiptoeing around each other, taking care not to offend or upset or hurt. But this time, Charlotte knew, her mum was out of her depth. Eileen slid her hand over Charlotte’s, unease turning to fierce protection. ‘I’ll come with you to the doctor’s. If… that’s what you want? Or is Ben going to go with you?’

‘He has to work.’

‘Or Lissa? I’m sure you’d prefer her…?’ There was a break in her mum’s voice and Charlotte felt it resonate deep in her heart. Because yes, given a choice, she would usually have chosen her best friend over her mother. It was easier that way.

Ben had said he’d phone in sick and they’d argued and she’d told him she was a grown-up and could manage by herself. She hadn’t told Lissa yet and there was the issue of the classes to cover and, while she could go on her own, Charlotte suddenly felt the need for her mum’s support. ‘I’d like you to come, if that’s okay? Please.’

Eileen breathed out heavily and swiped the back of her hand over her forehead. ‘Of course. You know that. Anything.’

‘Thank you.’ Charlotte felt a rush of relief, wishing she’d shared this news with her before. They’d never particularly clashed, but there hadn’t been those moments of intense intimacy Charlotte had heard about between mothers and daughters; sharing clothes and confidences.

There’d been a line somewhere, spinning off, she now thought, from Michael Maloney’s childish comments and her own immature reaction; cemented by an episode in her awkward teens when someone asked her why her real mother had given her away. Which had made her question all over again whether Eileen was her real mother at all, even though she did real-mother things every day.

It was a line that made Charlotte feel a little distanced from her parents. Distanced a little from everyone if she was honest. As if tiptoeing was always the way to go… always keeping real feelings locked in to save hurting someone else, to save rejection.

Being given away did that to people sometimes, she’d read. Gave them a feeling they didn’t quite belong anywhere. But she knew she belonged here, didn’t she?

Knowing and feeling were two different things.

Charlotte squeezed her mum’s hand. ‘Thank you. Safety in numbers and all that.’

Eileen smiled. Another one of those brave smiles Charlotte kept on seeing. ‘These things are always scary, love. But I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Just a cyst or something. Lots of women have lumpy breasts.’

Just hearing this gave her hope. ‘That’s what I keep telling myself. And Ben. That’s what we keep saying.’

‘Hey, you two, what happened to the dips?’ Lissa burst into the kitchen. ‘I’m starving. Oh. Are you both okay? You look upset, Eileen. Was it me? Was it what I said? Because I was only joking. I know John was your one and only for ever. I was just pulling your leg about finding a man.’

Finding a smile, Eileen stood and picked up the plate of vegetables. She had her don’t mess with me teacher voice on. ‘Don’t be silly, Melissa. I know you were just playing. Charlotte and I were just going through a few things, that’s all. We got distracted…’ To everyone else Eileen probably looked her usual self, but Charlotte could see the way her mum bit down on her lip, the hitch in her shoulders as she gave herself a silent talking to, and then the shaking off of emotion, bringing herself into party mode again. Or, as much as she could muster under the circumstances. There was a moment when she caught Charlotte’s eye and there was a flicker of anxiety there, then it was gone, replaced by a determination that everything was going to be okay. That she would make it so. ‘Right, where are we going for this hen party? Have you girls got any further with our plans? Please don’t tell me it’s a naked cruise to Mykonos?’

‘Hey! Everyone!’ Lissa bustled back into the lounge, her voice loaded with Prosecco. ‘Eileen’s got this stellar idea about a cruise…’

Allowing herself a moment to collect her thoughts Charlotte put the paper back in her pocket. She didn’t know if she could share her mum’s optimism. But she had to try.

Chapter Three

Charlotte scanned Dr Montford’s face for giveaway clues as the medic examined first her left breast, then her right. Then back to the left, concentrating on the area Charlotte had shown her.

‘It’s quite bruised,’ the doctor said. ‘Do you keep checking it? Prodding it?’

‘Yes.’ Charlotte’s voice was so small, her throat tight with fear. She coughed, tried to stop the drumming in her ears. Of course she’d kept on checking it, hoping that this time she wouldn’t find it. ‘Yes. I can’t help it.’

‘Well, you’re going to make it sore. I understand why you’d do it, but try not to prod too much. In fact, I’d suggest you keep your hands off it completely until we get it checked out.’ Dr Montford smiled warmly, infusing her voice with a kindness Charlotte hoped wasn’t pity. It was probably something she’d learned in her training; lower the voice and it keeps the hideous blow from being too sharp and blunt. That was how it felt: a sharp sting of panic and the bluntness of realising her own mortality. I’m not finished yet. I have so much more to do .

In her dancing she’d always pushed her body to its limits, enjoying the challenge and the strength and the way she felt extending herself. But maybe she wasn’t infallible after all. Maybe there was a limit and this was it? It was only a lump but it felt as if she’d been knocked sideways – her overactive imagination stripping joy and replacing it with panic. Scary how one thing could change your perspective.

‘So there is definitely a lump, right? It’s not my imagination?’

‘Yes, Charlotte. There is a lump and I think I can feel the edges. But there’s no swelling in your lymph nodes so that’s a good sign. Women have lumpy bits for lots of reasons. It’s not always cancer, although it is often the first thing you think of.’

Charlotte shuddered at the word. It was the first time it had been said out loud. ‘So what do we do now?’

‘I’ll do a referral and you’ll go have a mammogram – but at your age the breast is quite dense and clarity isn’t great on the films. So there’ll probably be an ultrasound too… and an appointment with a specialist. There is a protocol we follow and things move quite quickly once you’re in the system. Usually, for someone under thirty they suggest a non-urgent referral. As I can actually feel a lump I’ll see if I can hurry it along for you, but it might be a couple of weeks or so. Hop off the couch and let’s have more of a chat. I’ll check your blood pressure and ask a few routine questions.’

‘Sure. Okay.’ Charlotte slipped her top down and crept back from behind the curtain before sitting down at the desk next to her mum, who was pale and clenching her hands in her lap. They gave each other a hesitant smile and then looked at the doctor. Dr Montford was a new GP in the surgery, but Charlotte wasn’t a new patient. She’d been registered there since just after her birth. ‘You’ll have all my details on there, I think?’