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  “Grab a coffee and there are fresh pastries on the bench.”

  “You washed Critter!”

  The tiny dog was lying in the doorway. He looked up through bulging, sullen eyes that now protruded from neatly trimmed sockets.

  “He was disgusting. The matted hair was full of decaying food!”

  “You don’t have to come tomorrow.”

  “I know, but I want to.”

  “I had a look at the mural on Lucky Lady. You have done an extraordinary job. I didn’t expect the detail to be so good.”

  “I am very happy with it. I just wish it wasn’t on the side of a boat. Not the most practical place to put your work if you want it to last.”

  “Practicality is not a quality you have ever possessed. You’re going to be late for work.”

  Sandy shrugged.

  “I’ve taken the phone off the hook. There were so many messages the answerphone was full. Before I forget, there was one message from your mother, the rest were from Stephen.”

  Sandy paused at the door.

  “You had better ring her back, she sounded anxious.”

  Joanne rolled her eyes and picked up her mobile.

  “Joanne. Where the hell are you?”

  There was a brief pause.

  “Stephen has rung several times looking for you. I contacted your office this morning and was informed you are no longer with the firm, your mobile went straight to messages and Sandy’s landline went to answerphone. What the hell are you thinking?”

  “Calm down, I’m fine.”

  “Fine? Your fiancée has no idea where you are. It appears you are now unemployed. I assume you have relocated. Joanne, your behaviour is selfish, irresponsible and immature!”

  “It is complicated and I was intending to speak to you.”

  “Exactly when, were you intending to speak to me?”

  Joanne ignored the question.

  “It would be better if I spoke to you in person.”

  “Your father is furious. I would advise you to avoid him for the next few days. He won’t be constructive until he has had time to calm down.”

  “Furious, not concerned?”

  “That comment was unfair, Joanne.”

  “I found Stephen in bed with someone else yesterday.”

  “That is hardly surprising, but is it a good enough reason for you to leave your employment?”

  “There were also problems with one of the partners. To resolve them I would have had to stand down and lodge a complaint. Under the circumstances, this was not an option I felt I could take, especially when I ran a high chance of losing.”

  “Bloody men! I assume it is too early for you to have really considered your situation.”

  “I’ll let things settle for a few days before making any decisions. If you need me I am at Sandy’s, leave a message on my phone and Ill return your call.”

  Joanne’s muscles felt like lead. The frenzied cleaning had left her drained and nursing a dull headache. She forced herself to prepare a stir fry which she ate without enthusiasm and to take a hot shower before collapsing into the comfort of clean, lavender scented sheets.

  The waiting room smelt strongly of disinfectant. Neat piles of woman’s interest and home and garden magazines sat on low tables. There was a hushed silence broken only by the occasional low voice or rustle of paper. A starchy, formal receptionist greeted them and made a note in her appointment diary.

  Joanne scanned the sober faces that sat around the perimeter of the room. They were all well-dressed, middle-aged or older, and sitting behind magazines, although very few appeared to be actually reading. She looked at the list of doctors displaying their qualifications and areas of expertise.

  A few minutes of uncomfortable silence passed before the severe receptionist approached them. She made an effort to smile but it stopped at her bright red lipstick without reaching her eyes.

  “Dr Hansen will see you now.”

  Joanne glanced at the list of specialists behind the reception desk.

  Dr Hansen, Oncology.

  A tight uneasy feeling gripped her stomach. Whatever was suspected or had been diagnosed was no longer in the hands of a family doctor.

  They entered a comfortably decorated room, overpowered by a huge expanse of wooden desk that was positioned in the centre. Dwarfed by the polished surface was a thin elderly man. He stood up as they entered, giving the impression of a skeleton, lightly covered in fragile skin the texture of parchment paper. He was stooped and wore old fashioned glasses that barely disguised the overwhelming tiredness in his non-descript pale eyes.

  He extended a thin bony hand to Sandy.

  “Hello, Sandra,”

  “Sandy.”

  She corrected a little too quickly.

  “I am sorry. I am sure you told me that at our last appointment.”

  He turned to Joanne offering his hand.

  “I am Doctor Hansen and you are?”

  “This is my sister, Joanne,” answered Sandy.

  The specialist pulled up a third chair for Joanne. He made no attempt to return to his seat at the opposite side of the table. Instead, he eased himself wearily into a leather chair beside them.

  The gesture made Joanne instantly alert. He was putting them at ease, he was reducing formality and he spoke in a familiar, level, well-practiced voice. The same voice she herself used if children were in attendance at a hearing.

  “Sandy. I have reviewed the mammogram and ultrasound you had a few days ago.”

  He met Sandy’s searching eyes.

  “I feel that it would be advisable to do further investigation.”

  The specialist hunched forward towards Sandy.

  “The ultrasound and mammogram indicate a histological diagnosis of the lump. We need to define it further.”

  He looked from Sandy to Joanne. Hell, this was always hard.

  “The results so far are suspicious for malignancy.”

  Dr Hansen hesitated, giving them an opportunity to respond. Sandy continued to stare, her face calm and giving the appearance of understanding.

  Joanne narrowed her eyes and spoke in a brisk, business like fashion.

  “So, where do we go from here?”

  “It will be necessary to make an appointment to have a core biopsy. I would like to schedule that for early next week. Is that possible?”

  Joanne nodded and turned to Sandy. A glazed expression was forming on her face.

  “Can you please go to the reception area and ask if they can either make the appointment or give you the contact phone number?”

  The door closed and Dr Hansen spoke immediately.

  “You know I cannot offer personal information about a patient unless you are a relative or I have their permission?”

  “I’m her sister.”

  “Can you please tell me where Sandy’s parents are?”

  “Absent.”

  “Absent literally?”

  “No, absent emotionally.”

  The old man sighed, and rubbed his eyes with a wrinkled hand. He then replaced his glasses and continued.

  “She will need support though this process. Have you any medical knowledge or a medical background Joanne?”

  “No. I sense you are not optimistic.”

  “Joanne,” he reached over and took her hand.

  “I would be much more optimistic if we were having this conversation twelve months ago. Perhaps even longer. I may be getting ahead of myself. Until we get the biopsy done and the pathology report back, I really don’t have all the information.”

  “Is it normal for a suspicious mass to be located in such a young woman?”

  He smiled and the shadow of memories clouded his eyes. For a brief moment he seemed to drift away from the conversation before gathering his thoughts and continuing with the present.

  “Cancer itself is not normal. By definition, cells are multiplying abnormally and rapidly. If by normal, you mean common, then no, it is not common for this, assumin
g it is a malignant mass, to be found in such a young woman. But cancer is not predictable and it does not discriminate. Therefore, when someone of Sandy’s age is affected, the disease often goes undiagnosed for longer. Woman of the so-called higher risk age group tend to be more vigilant and often seek medical advice more rapidly.”

  “How invasive is the core biopsy? Sandy is not fond of any procedures especially if they involve injections.”

  “Yes, I gathered that. It is uncomfortable but not unbearable. Joanne, there is no option. The biopsy is necessary to diagnose and prescribe treatment for Sandy. If she was to refuse this procedure I suspect she would be less fond of the repercussions that would eventually result.”

  He let go of Joanne’s hand and wrote down two phone numbers without the need to locate the information.

  “These are councillors. If you, or Sandy, need any medical information please feel free to call me. Use these numbers to access general information or support. They can also advise you of the financial assistance or counselling services that are available to caregivers.”

  “I really don’t think this will be necessary.”

  He smiled kindly.

  “Humour an old man please. Put them away in a safe place, just in case. I look forward to speaking to you again when we have the results back from pathology.”

  The elderly man followed Joanne out to the reception area. He smiled fondly at Sandy and nodded to Joanne before turning his back and walking away.

  Doctor Hansen returned wearily to his desk. He sat down and reached across to pick up Sandy’s file.

  Not even twenty five years old, he shook his head sadly. She should have all her life ahead of her.

  Why didn’t they get medical advice as soon as they found a lump? What was it? Was it denial? He read on to jog his memory. She had said six months, maybe more before she even got it investigated.

  She had looked up at him her eyes, pleading for some offer of reassurance. Of course, he couldn’t be positive; there was always the chance of some sort of miracle. But he was getting too old to believe in miracles. All the indications and the length of time that had lapsed before diagnosis and commencement of treatment, made her prognosis gloomy at best.

  Often the people offering support were full of good intentions and a romantic notion their sympathy would improve the outcome for their loved ones. All too often, he had watched as the so-called caregivers had crumpled into ineffective emotional wrecks in the face of treatment and the fury of the grief process.

  He sensed Joanne was tough, assertive and logical. She had taken control of the situation when she knew Sandy would not cope. She had formulated questions, weighed up his answers and he had no doubt she would research the missing words that professionally he was not able to offer her today.

  Of course, he knew they weren’t sisters. Where the hell was this young woman’s biological family? Emotionally absent? Just as well she had the support of her friend. He was sure she was going to need it.

  Dr Hansen put down Sandy’s file and rubbed his eyes. As a young man he had watched his grandmother ravaged by disease, fighting to hang on to the fragile string of life that bound her to her family. It was on the day that she had died that he had lost the unshakable optimism of youth. It was on the day that she died that he had dedicated his life to helping the victims of cancer. Now, as an old man, he had lost the ability to walk every road with every patient and remain unscarred by their journey.

  Dr Hansen took a pen in his hand and began to draft his resignation.

  “He thinks I have cancer, doesn’t he?”

  “He thinks the biopsy will give him that information and allow him to plan a course of treatment.”

  They lapsed into silence.

  Joanne glanced over at Sandy. She was steering with her right hand and furiously chewing at the nails on her left. There was small fleck of blood forming in the crease of her mouth.

  How long had she actually known there was a lump in her breast? Dr Hansen had indicated twelve months may have passed. Her thoughts were interrupted as Sandy suddenly broke the silence.

  “I want to take you fishing.”

  “What tonight?”

  Sandy rounded on Joanne her eyes flashing angrily.

  “Did I bloody say I want to take you fishing tonight? I just said I want to take you fishing.”

  “Please watch the road or you will get us both killed.”

  “I’m sorry! It just isn’t fair.”

  Sandy pulled the car over to the kerb and rested her head on the steering wheel. A flood of uncontrollable tears ran down her cheeks and formed pools of dark staining on her skirt.

  “I agree, it isn’t fair.”

  “Do you think I might die?”

  “Sandy, I’m not even thinking along those lines. Let’s just get this biopsy done and formulate a plan from there.”

  “Can you stay until I’ve recovered?”

  “Do you think I’d leave after doing all that housework?”

  “Hi, just returning your call. You rung and left a message on the answerphone earlier this afternoon?”

  “Yes, Joanne there are two things I need to discuss with you. Would you please ring Stephen and sort things out? I have explained that you do not wish to communicate with him again. But he appears incapable of comprehending the situation. Obviously, it isn’t sufficient to leave messages on your phone, he also seems to feel it necessary to constantly ring me. Maybe he thinks that will get some response from you.”

  “Can’t you just tell him to stop ringing?”

  Her mother interrupted.

  “I have told him to stop ringing! Joanne, it is not up to me to sort out your personal affairs. I have explained I have no influence over your decisions and do not feel it is my business to try to advise you. He needs to be told by you to move on with his life.”

  “Alright, I will deal with Stephen. There was a second thing?”

  “Your father has asked if you could come over to discuss your work situation. Don’t interrupt! He told me there is a position that will be advertised from next week and despite your work history he would make sure your application was viewed favourably.”

  “Can you please tell him I am grateful, but I really can’t consider employment at least for the next few weeks.”

  “What the hell are you talking about Joanne? Do you know what your resume would look like to a prospective employer? I hardly think you are in a position to turn down any opportunity.”

  “I wish I could explain. There is a problem I have to help Sandy through before thinking about my own future.”

  “That girl will always have a problem and if you keep insisting on helping her she will always be a problem to you. Is she pregnant?”

  “No, she isn’t pregnant and I really am not in a position where I feel comfortable discussing her personal situation. You will just have to trust me. I need to be here and I need to be available for her.”

  “Well, Joanne, that makes two difficult phone calls you will have to make. I sure as hell am not going to be the one that tells your father you would rather be unemployed than accept a position in one of Auckland’s most prestigious legal firms!”

  The telephone went dead.

  Chapter 19

  “Blake and Caroline Shaw”

  The legal process, valuations and documentation required to complete the sale and purchase of Twin Pines ground on for weeks. Routines were disrupted by the strangers that were assigned to inspect buildings and independently value the plant, equipment and livestock.

  Paul removed himself from the process as much as possible. He continued to make decisions on a day to day basis but delayed anything that involved long term property or stock management. He wanted to detach himself from the landslide that had started with his decision to sell.

  Three weeks later, the solicitor rung to confirm the agreement on Twin Pines had gone unconditional.

  The computer sat open next to a pile of property magazines and the we
ekend newspaper. Paul had been scanning the university sites and real estate advertisements hoping to find a new direction.

  He walked to the bench and plugged in the jug. When he turned back a middle-aged man had appeared in the doorway. He was greying at the temples and deep lines formed grooves at the corners of his mouth and at the edges of his eyes. He gave the impression he was smiling even though his expression reflected nothing but uncertainty. He extended his hand and walked awkwardly forward.

  “I thought it was about time I introduced myself. I am Blake Shaw and you must be Paul?”

  “Yes. I believe congratulations are in order. You went unconditional on Twin Pines and Kean’s farm today.”

  “And I believe I owe you an apology.”

  Paul frowned. He had no idea what Blake Shaw was referring to.

  “I feel I put some pressure on you to consider my offer. I do realise it was not only an important but also an incredibly hard decision for you to make.”

  Paul laughed.

  “I don’t think you owe me an apology. The agent made us aware of your situation. Sorry, I haven’t even asked you to come in.”

  Paul stood aside to allow Blake to enter. He glanced at the open magazines and newspaper.

  “Have you made any plans for yourself yet?”

  “There was no point in looking seriously at my options until Twin Pines went unconditional. But, no, I haven’t found anything that interests me yet.”

  “I couldn’t tempt you to reconsider my offer?”

  “To manage Twin Pines for you? Thank you, but no. If I wanted to continue farming here I would have retained the property. I think if I stayed on any more than the month we have agreed to I would run the risk of becoming far too comfortable.”

  “That is a problem I can understand. My offer remains open if you do change your mind. In the meantime, don’t feel pressured to move on. I have no plans for the Shearers Quarters and could do with a hand for as long as you want to be here.”