“Did she tell you not to tell me?”
Ian shakes his head. “No. But you’d only just arrived.”
“And what about after?” Kate fires back, blinking hard. Her mobile buzzes in her purse. She ignores it.
“Kate,” Ian says, stepping toward her again. She’s inclined to push him away, but doesn’t. “I think this is a conversation you need to have with her, not me.”
She takes a deep breath. “Fine. Yeah.”
“Let’s just go talk to her.”
Kate leads the way into the room. There’s no one in the bed nearest the door, but Audrey is lying awake, propped up in the bed on the far side of the room. Her hair is a little disheveled, frizzing around her head, and the blue hospital gown sags on her shoulders. Kate wonders whether it’s the effect of the hospital bed that makes her appear so diminished and small, or whether she’d just been blind to it before.
“Hello,” Audrey says with a sigh.
“Audrey.” Kate reaches for her hand. Ian takes a seat on the other side of the bed.
Audrey takes one of Ian’s hands, too, and squeezes them both gently. “I’m sorry I gave you both such a turn,” she says, frowning. “This is utterly embarrassing. They say I didn’t even have a proper heart attack. Distress, or some such stupid thing.”
“I’m so sorry, Audrey,” Kate says. “The things we’ve been talking about, I never should have pushed you to do it.”
Audrey fixes Kate with a look that is somehow both tender and condescending. “Kate. I would expect that you would understand me well enough now to know that I never would have relayed my story to you if I didn’t truly want to.”
Kate swallows hard, grips Audrey’s hand tighter.
“So,” Audrey continues, “before you go getting any silly ideas, I will tell you straightaway that this is not your fault.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Kate sees Ian glance over at her. “Okay. If you say so.”
“I do.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about the cancer?” Kate asks.
Audrey looks at Ian, then back at Kate. “I’m sorry, dear.”
“How long have you known?”
“About a year. They told me it was a done deal a few months ago.”
Ian is staring at a spot on Audrey’s hospital blanket, eyes unfocused.
“How much time do you have, then?” Kate asks.
Audrey shrugs. “They’re not sure. But I think long enough to finish our chats, anyway. And I would like to, now we’ve come so far.” She pinches her lips.
The tears slip from the corners of Kate’s eyes now. “Okay.”
“Ian,” Audrey says, looking up at him. “Would you be a dear and go fetch me some ice chips? It’s drier than rye toast in here.”
“Sure,” he says, blinking. “Back in a few.”
Audrey watches him leave, but Kate keeps her eyes on her friend.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Audrey says.
“Ian didn’t either.”
“He and I have such a history. He’s as good as a grandson to me, as you know. And when I told him, you and I didn’t have, well… what we have now.”
“Yeah. That’s what he said.”
“And he’s right. But I suppose, over the past while…” She reaches for Kate’s other hand. “You’ve had so much loss, Kate. I suppose I felt badly adding to your burden.”
A single tear slides down Audrey’s cheek, faltering a little on the deep crevices in her mottled skin.
“Now then,” she says. “The pair of you should go. Get a good night’s sleep. You look exhausted.”
“I don’t want to leave you.” Kate’s voice cracks on a swollen throat. “And I don’t want you to leave me.”
Audrey smiles tightly. “I’d said you could stay on until Christmas. I think I can extend your contract now, if you’d like. It seems to have worked out.”
A watery, reluctant laugh escapes Kate. She nods.
Audrey cups her wet cheek. “I’m not dying tonight. I’ll still be here tomorrow. We’ll talk then.”
“And then what?” Kate asks.
“Well, you shall have me until you don’t, and we’ll just have to make the most of the time we have left, won’t we?”
