Chapter Twenty Two

"No Clifford, I haven't heard from her in for a while. I just presumed she was busy." Joel rolled his eyes at the concern in the older man's voice as it travelled down the phone line.

"But we have to sign the paperwork before Monday, that's if she wants to be settled before Christmas."

He groaned, "ok, leave it with me, I'll try and contact her. She's got the paperwork?"

"No. But I can email it to her."

Joel disconnected the call then leaned back in his office chair and closed his eyes; he hadn't spoken to Sammy since she'd gone home the previous weekend. That was only five days ago, he had no reason to feel bad as she hadn't called him either, but he had that awful sick feeling rotting at his stomach.

Opening his eyes, he reached for his phone and dialled Sammy's number. There was no answer, and he was about to hangup when suddenly she was on the line, breathless.

"Sorry Joel...are you still there?"

He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, "yup. You ok?"

She groaned then the line went quiet for a moment. "Been better, got quite a lot on, but then some things never change. How are you?"

Joel let out the breath he didn't realise he was holding and offered, "equally as hectic. Who knew selling a business was so time consuming."

"You're still doing that?"

"Yup. I want a life. I've given up too much. I'm actually calling because Clifford's been on the phone..."

She cut him off abruptly, "hang on for a moment." The phone went silent and it was literally a minute later that her voice reappeared, again breathless and almost hushed. "Sorry, I'm with Monica...she doesn't like hearing about the Turner's."

That made sense, "jealous?"

"Sort of. It's all a bit tricky here. What does he want Clifford?"

"Papers need signing, he said he'd posted them to you, have you received them? And can you get them back to him?"

There were a few more moments of silence and he could almost hear her brain ticking over, "not sure. Look I'm at the hospital. Can I call you later...when I'm home?"

The one word guaranteed to make bile rise in his throat, "hospital? Are you ok? Is it Eleanor?"

"No," she whispered at a hiss, "it's Monica...long story. I have to get back to her. Can I call you tonight?"

His heart was pounding at the anxiety of the last twenty seconds, and he could only sigh, "of course. I'll be home in a couple of hours."

He'd intended to go to the gym on the way home, maybe catch up with Toby for a few beers, but he'd settle for a bottle of wine and a movie after speaking to Sammy. She'd been evasive and anxious on the phone, coupled with her being at a hospital, it all made him concerned.

But a microwave spaghetti meatballs and a bottle of Chianti were a good second best, especially when the heavens opened as he reached his apartment block. It was cold, wet, mid November, he was glad not to be facing the elements. He was getting old. That thought accompanied him up in the elevator until he got to his front door.

But he didn't expect her to cry, that was the last thing he'd anticipated hearing along the phone line. Sobbing, heart wrenching tears.

"Sammy, talk to me, please. What's wrong? Can't you tell me?"

She struggled to control her breathing, she wasn't able to speak, that was blatantly obvious. Then she stuttered, "cancer...my mother...she's in hospital."

"Shit. Sammy, are you ok?"

"I hated her, I told her that SO many times, but I don't...and I don't want to lose her, really I don't."

He groaned at the pain in her voice, "of course you don't, and no one thinks that of you. Are you managing with everything? Who's helping you out? Is Corinne there?"

She sobbed as she tried to control her tears and speak, "she's away, for the weekend. Eleanor's ok..."

"But you can't be dragging her back and forth to the hospital. Is your mother in for long? What's happening?"

He could almost hear her bottom lip wobble as she offered quietly, "I don't know...I really don't."

The wine and pasta were already a thing of the past, with a smile he glanced at the clock, six o'clock; he could be there in four and a half hours if the traffic is lighter.

"I', leaving in a minute, let me just get a bag together."

She spluttered into the phone, "you can't just drop everything and drive here."

"I can, and I will. Look, I'll be with you by midnight, and I'll take a few days off next week if you need me. Don't even think about protesting."

"But..."

He sighed, "Sammy, what would Marcus want?" That silenced her, "I'll call you when I'm on the M5."

It was so simple in thought, but the practice was very different. It took him hours to get any distance from London and midnight looked less and less likely. But once he got free of the real heavy traffic he got miles under his belt and even managed to stop for coffee and a sandwich. As he pulled into the coastal town it was ten after midnight, a time he didn't think he'd stop by.

Her house, or rather her mother's house was on the near side of the town, so he got there within moments of leaving the main road that headed to Land's End. There was a light on in the lounge when he stopped outside, then switched off the engine. He'd packed a few things in a bag, and so he took that with him as he strode up the path.

It took a moment for Sammy to open the door and he wondered as he waited whether she'd fallen asleep, but the torn and fraught face that met him a few seconds later looked like someone on the edge of exhaustion.

"Shit Sammy, you look shattered."

He stepped into the hallway as she grimaced, "I don't know what's happening."

He gave a smile, "well I'm here to help."

"You must be exhausted yourself; you shouldn't have driven all this way."

"Least I could do." He tossed his bag on the floor then followed her into the lounge.

She didn't stop there and led him into the kitchen; "I made lasagne for you..." she'd reached the fridge then turned to him with a cold bottle of beer in her hand.

There was no more welcome a sight, "lasagne?" He took the bottle and cracked it open, "amazing, my favourite."

She gave a little nod, "I remembered."

Sat at the small kitchen table he tucked into the food watching her out of the corner of his eye fussing. She was unsettled, he didn't need to be a genius to see that, but he wasn't sure how to handle her. Eventually he knew he had to stop her.

Standing, abandoning his much needed dinner, he stepped up to her and reached for her arms. Looking up slowly he could see the tears in her eyes, "what's happened Sammy?"

At that moment she crumpled into his embrace, clinging to him in desperation, he could feel the damp patch on his shoulder where her tears had penetrated his shirt, but as he held her he was also aware of a hell of a lot more than that.

That made him feel sick, he had no right. With a deep breath he stroked her hair as she tried to regain her control; eventually she lifted her head, her puffy red eyes trying to avoid his.

"She told me on Monday that she'd found a lump, but it had been there weeks. When we went to the doctor, well he sent her to the hospital. I thought they'd just do some scans, you know? But they've kept her in; they're doing a double mastectomy tomorrow. She's..." She swiped at the tears falling again, "she's acting like she's going to die. For all her faults...her appearance means everything to her, her confidence comes from how she looks. She's like a shell...but it's not just that..." Her bottom lip quivered and he wanted to reach out and rub it with his thumb, "they're doing the operation on a Saturday. How urgent must that be? I mean it's not normal!"

Taking both her hands in his he squeezed them, "the most important thing is it's being done, quickly. You can't ask for more than that. Everything else," he shrugged, "all you can do is be there for her. It must be a huge thing, psychologically. I mean society defines women by how they look unfortunately. But she'll be here, and that's all you can do, is be here for her."

"She thinks I hate her, she doesn't realise that I love her...she's my mother."

He nodded, "she does know that, I mean you've been back here, being with her. You told me you were getting on again, after all this time."

She nodded, "it's never going to be perfect, but we are starting to get to know each other again, now that I'm a parent...I don't think of things the same way, and she's brilliant with Eleanor...that's all I care about."

Offering a smile he said, "and she knows that, if she doesn't you can tell her tomorrow. You have the chance to make things right, ok?"

With a sad sniffle she smiled, "you always say the right thing; you know Marcus would tell me to tell her to piss off."

That made him laugh out loud, "he didn't suffer fools gladly, but he'd have stuck by every decisions you made, you know that."

Giving her own sad smile she nodded, "sorry that was harsh. Sometimes I still get angry that he's not here, to help me, you know?"

"Don't I just. But I'll be here as much as I can for you, just remember that."

He watched her cross to the fridge to retrieve some more beers he felt awful, in her hour of need he'd had a rather lewd connection to her closeness and he made himself repulsed. What was wrong with him?

They shared the beer in a little silence, but it was as they were both about to retire to bed, Sammy to her bed, and despite the offer of her mother's room, Joel for the sofa, she stopped in the doorway.

"I don't think I can sleep."

Joel smiled, "that might be the case, but your daughter will be up in a few hours, you need rest." She bit her bottom lip sadly and once again he had to fight the urge to comfort her physically, instead he offered, "and if you're not tired I'll stay awake and drink hot chocolate with you, ok?"

In reality once she left the room, it was him that couldn't sleep, his body was alert and his conscience was giving him a hard time. She was his best friend's wife.

Widow a voice echoed inside him, but that wasn't any easier a thought.

The layout of the house meant that Sammy could avoid the lounge and cut from the hallway directly to the kitchen, hopefully leaving Joel asleep on the sofa. She'd catnapped, waking almost hourly. At three am she'd text her mother and a lack of response presumably meant that at least she was asleep. At quarter past four she called the ward at the hospital to be told her mother was comfortable, she'd slept all night. The nurse must have sensed her anxiety because she'd said in a rather maternal way.

"Visiting is pretty lenient here, why don't you come in at breakfast time? The doctors will be here by nine; at least you'll know what's going on."

That meant that she slept a good bit easier than she had, and now at six thirty, the last two hours of sleep had been almost bliss.

She turned on the coffee machine hoping that with the closed doors it wouldn't be that loud. She wasn't hoping that Joel would babysit her daughter, he'd said he'd come to help, she presumed that involved anything that the day brought. And today that was stepping up as Uncle Joel.

The machine had barely run it's brewing cycle when the lunge door open. She turned to see Joel all sleep ruffled in a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt, his thick hair told where the exact position of his pillow had been.

"You ok? Manage any sleep?"

She smiled, "a little. Do I look as bad as you?"

Running his hands through his hair he laughed, "I created the term bed-head. So what are the plans for today?"

"The hospital have said I can be there early to meet the doctors, Monica won't like it, but I need to know what's going on."

He nodded, "of course, I'll have a few hours with your little cherub then? That's if you trust me."

"Of course I trust you. And that would be amazing. I'm going to order a taxi very soon, if that's ok?"

"Don't bother, my car's outside."

Sammy handed him a mug of coffee and shook her head, "I'm not putting you out that much, it's ridiculous. I can get a cab."

That made him chuckle, "really? What's ridiculous? I am HERE to help you. I have a car, you need a ride. It's easy." She wasn't convinced so he leaned forward, "I doubt your daughter will sleep for long, I'll drive you, then I can take Ellie out for breakfast."

His smile was infectious, and she couldn't help but return it, as she looked up at him, "Joel Edwards, have I told you that you are absolutely perfect in every way?"

He blushed, and that made her laugh, "what? You are! I will make you the greatest dinner that you've ever had tonight. Ok?"

Joel was still blushing ashe turned away, even that was cute; it tugged at her heart strings. But it wasthe truth, his presence was calming and he always knew what to do. She neededthat, even though she had fought that for the last two years. As she made forthe shower she had a ridiculous smile on her face, a genuine one for the firsttime in a long time.