The Two Week Wait Read Online Free PDF

and views stretching for miles
across mountaintops, nights are cosy and burrow-like. There is soft lighting, a log stove, and the warm hues of pine-clad walls offset by the deep reds of the local Savoie decor. A chicken
casserole is stewing in the oven and Rich is flopped on the sofa in his favourite tracksuit, his face pink and shiny from hours in the fresh air followed by a bath. He looks so healthy and happy,
Cath feels a surge of love for him. She’s proud of him, his physical ability, his sportsmanship.
    ‘Can I get you a beer?’ she offers.
    ‘I think I’d prefer wine.’
    She’ll have a glass too; it might help lubricate their conversation. She fetches two glasses and the bottle from the kitchen. ‘There’s something I want to talk to you
about,’ she says.
    ‘Oh?’ It’s a lousy corkscrew. He sees her struggling. ‘Here, let me.’
    She passes over the bottle. ‘It’s just I was thinking today, about . . . Um . . . ’ Lord, how should she tackle this? She should have planned it. He looks up, concerned. She
adds, ‘It’s nothing bad, though.’
    ‘Thank goodness.’ A defiant pop and the wine is open.
    ‘Obviously the treatment finishing and being told I don’t need to go back to the hospital for another six months is great news. I’m still so relieved I can hardly believe
it.’
    Rich nods. He fills their glasses and raises one to toast her. ‘Fantastic.’ He moves his legs to make room for her. ‘It’s a real milestone.’
    Cath sits down. ‘But I know, well, you know, the cancer could come back, at some point. Maybe not now, maybe not for years. We don’t know. Being free of it only means I’m clear
at the moment, not forever.’
    ‘Yes, I suppose, but I don’t think we should think like that.’
    Cath flinches. This is as hard for her to say as for him to hear. ‘But we do have to think like that, honey, really. In terms of the big decisions we make, we do.’
    Rich frowns; she is aware he doesn’t like her talking like this. He’s said he finds it hard because he loves her; nonetheless they can’t deceive themselves.
    She hesitates, then, out of nowhere, she starts to cry. Giant tears plop forth, unstoppable. It takes her aback as much as it does Rich; she puts down her glass so she can gather herself.
    Rich moves closer to her. ‘Oh love, don’t. You’ve been so happy this week, it’s been such a wonderful end to such a rotten year, don’t bring yourself down.
It’s OK, you’re OK . . . You’ve made it. You’re out the other side, you did it.’
    ‘Sorry.’ Cath sniffs loudly. ‘I don’t know where that came from.’ She wipes her eyes on her sleeve.
    Rich smiles at her. ‘Well, you’ve not cried all week, so the tears were probably bursting to get out, wondering why they’d not been given an airing.’
    It’s true; ever since her original diagnosis, Cath has cried an awful lot. But they’re still not talking about what she’s been trying to say. ‘It’s not the cancer
that’s getting to me, it’s something different.’ She stretches her legs out on top of his and gently nudges him, a signal to stroke her feet. Rich obliges. Perhaps she’ll
start at the end, not the beginning. ‘After you’d gone to your lesson yesterday, I was watching the children on the nursery slopes . . . Anyway, since then I’ve been thinking . .
. ’ She checks her husband’s reaction. He has stopped smiling, appears curious, uncertain. ‘Ever since I was ill, it changed my perspective. My priorities shifted, I re-evaluated
what matters.’
    ‘Me too,’ he says. They’ve spoken of this before.
    ‘It made me see how important my friends and family – and you, especially – are to me. I want to make a fresh start next year, and you know I don’t find my job at the
gallery that challenging . . . ’ Another deep breath, then she bursts out, ‘I want to have a baby.’
    He looks perplexed. ‘But I thought . . . We were told, after the treatment, that, um . .