Maddy’s Christmas Wedding (Little Duck Pond Cafe #37)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I woke after a restless night and, with Jack still sleeping, I escaped into the shower and stood under the soothing hot water for a long time, trying to psyche myself up to make the phone call.

I even thought about making an appointment just to keep Jack happy, and then cancelling it when he left for his parents’ house. But the fact that this had even crossed my mind only served to make me feel more despairing of myself than I already did.

How pathetic!

I needed to just bite the bullet and do it. Get tested. And then everything would be fine again. With Jack and me, at any rate. In other ways, it might not be ‘fine’ at all. There might be devastating news awaiting us. But at least we’d know, and then we could move forward into the future, whatever that new future might look like . . .

‘Have you phoned yet?’ was Jack’s first question when he came into the kitchen as I was making porridge.

‘Er, no. I’m making you a nice healthy breakfast before you leave. The food at motorway stations is so expensive.’

‘Thanks.’ He dropped a kiss on my forehead. ‘But I’m not that hungry, to be honest, after . . . well, after yesterday.’ His complexion looked grey as if he’d slept badly.

I sighed. ‘Me, neither.’ Feeling terrible, I abandoned the porridge, taking it off the heat. ‘Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry I left it so long to tell you.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘It’s not okay. I know I’ve hurt you and I hate that.

‘Look, the most important thing now is that we find out how things are looking for you. Don’t you think?’

‘Yes. Yes, of course.’

‘Why don’t I make some coffee, while you go and phone the surgery?’

‘Now? Oh, but I was thinking I’d see you off first and then do it.’

His jaw tightened. ‘I’d rather you did it now, before I left.’

‘Right. Okay.’ I attempted a smile and left the kitchen, picking up my mobile on the way.

Standing in the hall, I took a deep breath and tapped the number for the surgery. And then panic hit me. What was I going to say? Ending the call, I stood there, frantically rehearsing a speech in my mind about needing to know if I had this hereditary disease.

Then I called again. And a voice answered.

This surgery is closed and will open at eight-thirty. For all emergencies, please call –

A feeling of relief rushed through me. I had an excuse not to make an appointment. Glancing at my watch, I saw that it wasn’t quite eight-thirty . . .

I went back into the kitchen, where Jack was stirring his coffee. ‘The surgery’s not open yet.’

‘Really?’ Jack glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘I thought it opened at half-past eight?’

‘Erm, not this morning. They’ve . . . um . . . got an hour of staff training first. But don’t worry. I’ll phone back then.’

He nodded. ‘Good. I’ll probably be gone by then, but let me know how you get on, will you?’

We made a stab at eating some breakfast and then Jack went off to have a shower and pack his bag, while I cleared up and made some sandwiches for his journey.

Hearing his footsteps approaching, I turned with a big smile. ‘Food for my favourite person ever?’ I held the bag out to him.

‘So you’re actually lying to me now, then?’ he said, his face grim.

My insides turned cold. ‘What . . . what do you mean?’

‘It got to nine-thirty so I phoned the surgery to make an appointment for you, but apparently there was no staff training this morning.’ With a furious look, he turned and walked out, ignoring the bag in my outstretched hand.

‘So you’re treating me like a child now? Making appointments for me?’ I yelled, furious at myself as well as Jack.

‘Maybe it’s necessary,’ he called back.

He left shortly afterwards. Our goodbye was miserably stiff and formal.

‘You’ve got no intention of getting tested, have you?’ he said, turning back.

‘Of course I have!’ I threw him an indignant look, as if he was mad to even suggest such an idea. ‘I promise I will. But in my own time, okay?’

He twisted his lips in disbelief and started walking away again.

‘Jack?’

‘Yes?’ He didn’t turn around.

‘I could come with you, if you like?’ I offered. ‘To help with the packing? I’m sure Ellie would give me some time off.’

He shook his head, a little too quickly for my liking. ‘Best if I go myself.’

‘Right.’ I sighed. ‘Look, Jack, I really am sorry.’ I was panicking now. I hated us parting on a sour note like this. ‘I know you’re hurt I didn’t tell you, but it’s not as if I keep stuff from you on a regular basis. Surely you can forgive this one little blip?’

Now he did turn. ‘You didn’t tell me about your dad’s possible diagnosis of Huntington’s, either.’

‘Oh. But that was different! Dad didn’t want anyone else to know about it. He was very firm about that. Keep it in the immediate family, he said, and I wasn’t going to go against his wishes, was I?’

‘Right.’ Calmly, he nodded. ‘Because of course I’m not immediate family.’ He shrugged hopelessly, shook his head in sad disbelief, and walked away before I had a chance to reply . . .