Last Chance Saloon - Marian Keyes [89]
‘Does the lump hurt?’
Fintan shook his head.
‘So what happens next?’ asked Katherine.
‘Tomorrow morning I go into hospital again for two days. And they do stuff to me.’
‘What kind of stuff?’
‘Oh, you know.’ Fintan was flip. ‘A bone-marrow biopsy. A CT scan. X-rays à go-go. Us fashion types, it’s just non-stop glamour!’
‘Are you scared?’ Katherine asked gently.
‘No,’ Fintan said. ‘I’m absolutely terrified,’ he added, and convulsed with laughter. He abruptly stopped his yelping. ‘I’m going to the loo.’
When the door closed behind him, Sandro asked, ‘Do you know how they do bone-marrow biopsies?’ Tara and Katherine mutely shook their heads.
‘It’s from one of your hipbones. You get a local anaesthetic to numb the skin and muscle, but it’s impossible to numb the bone,’ he said, in a monotone. ‘When the needle goes in, it’s like having your bone broken. Apparently it’s agony.’
Katherine’s mouth went dry and Tara felt light-headed. They hadn’t expected anything like this. Tests, yes. But they’d no idea that they hurt.
‘I thought he’d be knocked out for it,’ Tara whispered.
Sandro shook his head. ‘They’re very mean with giving general anaesthetics.’
‘That’s horrific.’ Katherine’s face was clenched. The thought of Fintan having to suffer unbearable pain was almost worse than him having a life-threatening disease. ‘Can’t we cause a big fuss? Insist on an anaesthetic?’
‘We did our best.’ Fintan had come back into the room. ‘Shouted. Even cried. Hoped to embarrass the doc into giving in. But he just thought I was a big girl’s blouse. Which I am, of course.’
‘A Chanel one, though,’ Katherine said.
‘Schiaparelli, do you mind?’ he countered, haughtily.
‘When will you get the results?’ Tara asked.
‘The end of the week, hopefully.’
Something occurred to Katherine.
‘Have you told your mother about any of this?’ she asked.
‘No.’
‘When are you going to?’
‘I have no immediate plans.’
‘Fintan,’ Katherine rushed to his side, ‘you’ve got to tell her. It’s only fair.’
‘Yes, Fintan,’ Tara insisted. ‘You must.’
‘That’s what I keep telling him.’ Sandro glowered.
‘I can’t,’ Fintan said. ‘I just can’t. It’d kill her.’
‘It’ll kill her more if she found out and it was too…’ Tara realized how tactless she was being.
‘Your mother’s tougher than you think.’ Katherine rescued Tara. ‘You’ve got to tell her.’
‘I can’t.’ Fintan put his face in his hands.
‘How about if we – I mean Tara and I – told her?’ Katherine asked carefully. She thought he’d scorn that suggestion. She certainly wasn’t expecting him to take his face out of his hands, look at her hopefully and ask, ‘Would you?’
‘Sure. We’ll do it right now, this minute,’ Katherine said. Tara’s face was a rictus of horror.
‘Would you mind if I didn’t listen?’ Fintan asked.
‘We’ll ring from your bedroom, you won’t hear anything. Come on, Tara.’
They went into the bedroom, and when they’d closed the door behind them, Katherine said, ‘It’s OK, you cowardy custard, I’ll do it.’
‘I’ll do it if you want.’
‘No, just hold my hand. And remind me of the number. What’s wrong with me? I can’t even remember the code for Ireland.’
As JaneAnn’s suspicious ‘Hello’ crackled down the line, Katherine was trembling.
‘Hello, Mrs O’Grady. It’s Katherine Casey here.’ Tara gripped Katherine’s spare hand so tightly the bones squeaked.
‘Katherine Casey,’ said JaneAnn’s slow, country voice. ‘Is it you? How the dickens are you?’
‘Grand, thanks. I’ve something –’
‘And your mother? And all belonging to you?’
‘They’re grand too. JaneAnn, I must –’
‘I saw your granny the other evening at the Rwanda Benefit gig. Faith, she’s thriving.’
‘Mrs O’Grady, I’m sorry, but I’ve bad news for you. Fintan’s sick,’ Katherine blurted. She liked her bad news to be delivered quickly. She couldn’t bear being kept waiting while the blow was softened.
‘Fintan is sick? Sick? Is it serious?’
‘Yes, I’m very sorry, he’s got –’
‘Aids,’ JaneAnn interrupted. ‘I’ve been waiting for this. There was a thing in the paper about it.’
‘No, Mrs O’Grady,’ Katherine forced herself to be gentle, ‘he hasn