Part One Hundred And Seven
After making her excuses, telling Yvonne that all she really wanted was a soak in the bath and an early night, George drove home feeling utterly exhausted. It was over, the trial at least, and Barbara was finally free. As Kay sat beside her, watching her navigate the Friday afternoon London traffic, she could see the tiredness exuding from George's every pore. "You and Jo did a wonderful job, you know," Kay said into the silence. "We couldn't have done it without you, or Tom, or Nikki, or any of you," George acknowledged with a tired smile. "But yes, I'm glad it's over. Barbara should never have been put on remand, in fact she should never even have been charged, but that's our lovely justice system for you." "At least you don't have the possibility that any conviction you might achieve may send someone to the electric chair." George shuddered. "You're absolutely right," She said, meaning every word. "I am very, very lucky in that respect."
When they reached home, George went up for a bath, and Kay said she would cook. "I'm not especially hungry," George mildly protested. "But you need to eat," Kay said gently but firmly. "And I promised myself that at some point while I was here, I would give you a taste of my almost infamous Italian cooking." "All right," George agreed with a smile, thinking that John would never have found it so easy to persuade her to eat. "As long as it's fairly light, I would love to be introduced to what I suspect Marino gets on a regular basis." Kay laughed. "It is usually the way to get him to stay and discuss a case," She admitted with a fond smile. So, whilst George lay upstairs in a steaming, scented bath, Kay hunted out whatever she could find in George's kitchen. She had to content herself with dry instead of fresh pasta, but she managed to find the accoutrements to an authentic Italian meat sauce in the fridge and freezer. As she made a fresh tomato sauce, adding garlic and fresh herbs as she went, she put on some light classical music, something to soothe rather than immediately capture the brain's attention. She hummed quietly to the music as she sliced onions, mushrooms and tomatoes on a chopping board, eventually adding them and the meat to the sauce simmering on the cooker. Not finding any Parmigiano Reggiano in the fridge, Kay settled for using Gruyere for the cheese sauce, grating it into a fine, powdery consistency that melted in an instant when she added it to the white sauce already heating gently in another saucepan. After briefly cooking the pasta, she began putting the lasagne together, layering the pasta, meat and tomato mixture and then the cheese sauce, and then starting all over again. When she finally placed the well-filled dish in the oven, she began clearing up, setting the dining-room table and opening a bottle of Frascati that she found in the fridge.
When George emerged from her bath, the heady aroma of cooking lasagne rose into her nostrils and for the first time in months, her appetite seemed to rise to greet it. She sincerely wanted to taste this wonderfully aromatic creation, to sample its flavours and textures, and actually finding that she was, if only a little, hungry. Going downstairs, she found Kay putting together a small green salad to accompany their dinner, and she stood in the kitchen doorway just watching her. It had been nice, she realised, to have some companionship in her home for the last couple of weeks, and she would miss Kay when she finally went home tomorrow. Kay could feel George's eyes on her, and turned to give her a tentative smile. "You don't mind me taking over your kitchen?" "No," George said in surprise. "Usually I hate it, someone else invading my territory, but it's different with you. Much to my amazement, I've enjoyed having you in my house over the last couple of weeks." "I doubt it would last," Kay said philosophically. "You're like me, you prefer to maintain your space and your distance from just about everyone." "You mean I act in a similar manner with Jo and John that you do with Benton?" "Possibly," Kay admitted ruefully. "I can't really comment on how you are with Jo, because being in love with a woman isn't something I've ever experienced." "Do you think you ever could, fall in love with a woman, I mean?" "No," Kay said without any hesitation. "It doesn't mean that I can't appreciate female beauty, I just don't think I could ever find a woman sexually compelling. Lucy often tells me that I don't know what I'm missing." "Well, each to their own," George replied amicably, pleased by the fact that Kay was being so free and frank with her.
When they eventually sat down at the table, plates of Kay's sumptuous creation in front of them, George poured them both a glass of wine. "Here's to success," Kay said, raising her glass. "To success," George agreed with her. "Success and Barbara's freedom." When she took her first bite of the lasagne, she groaned in authentic pleasure. "How on earth do you get lasagne to be so light?" She asked in amazement. "I guess it comes with practice," Kay said a little shyly. "Italian cooking was the one thing my mother ever taught me." "If I'd been a boy," George said with a smile. "My father would have taught me to hunt, to shoot, and anything else that he might have seen fit for the son of an up and coming judge. I sometimes think he was disappointed at getting a girl instead." "You only have to see the two of you together to see that's not true," Kay said fondly. "I don't think I've ever seen a father who is more proud of his daughter's achievements than your father is of yours." "I doubt he'll be very proud of my complete inability to acknowledge the fact that I very probably have breast cancer," George said dismally, making Kay feel slightly relieved that it had been George to raise the forbidden topic, not her. "I think he'd be very worried about you," Kay said quietly. "And quite rightly so, as would John, and Jo, and anyone else who cares about you." "Yes," George said regretfully. "Both Daddy and Jo will be worried about me, and John will go off me quicker than he ever has done before." "He does love you, you know," Kay said quietly. George laughed mirthlessly. "Well, he won't for very much longer. Darling, what you need to understand about John, is that he is inevitably attracted to anything beautiful. Hence Connie Beauchamp, Jo, Karen, last year's Angela, and God knows who else that I don't know about." "George, you don't know how you might look afterwards, and you don't know how John is going to react to it." "Kay, I'm not stupid," George said a little bitterly. "I'm going to be damaged goods as far as John is concerned, and that's not something I think I can bear." "So do something about it sooner rather than later," Kay said a little cajolingly. "This may sound stupid," George said tentatively. "But I don't think I know how to." This was her opportunity, Kay thought in resigned acceptance, her opening to tell George about what she had done on her behalf. "On Tuesday," Kay began cautiously. "I once again spent the afternoon in theatre, courtesy of Tom's lack of a registrar. During that operation, I became acquainted with a general surgeon, someone who deals with, along with just about everything else, breast tumours. After we came out of theatre, I went to see him, and told him about you." "That must have been a conversation and a half," George said ruefully. "Yes, it was," Kay admitted a little sheepishly. "As well as his NHS commitments, he also has a private list at another hospital. I took the liberty of making you an appointment for next Thursday, one which I can only encourage you to attend."
They were quiet for the rest of the meal, George not having yet voiced any thought on what Kay had done for her. But when they were clearing up in amicable silence, George ventured a question. "There's a little more to this than what you've already told me, isn't there?" "Yes," Kay told her without any preamble. "As a result of how the health service works over here, you need to be referred for treatment." "Does that mean I need to go to my GP?" George asked, not sounding thrilled with the idea. "The last time I saw him, was when he gave me the all too wonderful news that John's inability to remain faithful had given me Chlamydia, so I'm not all that eager to see him again in a hurry." "No, it doesn't need to be your GP," Kay explained. "Mr. Griffin told me that as I am a fully licensed doctor, I can refer you to him myself." "I sense a but," George said knowingly. "In order to follow the correct procedure," Kay said carefully. "I need to examine you, just to make sure that you do actually need to be referred to a general surgeon." George regarded her thoughtfully. She wasn't sure how she felt at giving Kay a flash of her assets, but she supposed that Kay wouldn't have suggested it if it weren't absolutely necessary. "Fine," She replied, putting the last plate into the cupboard.
As Kay followed her up the stairs, she could feel all of George's mental barriers going right up. George obviously wasn't looking forward to this, and Kay tried to remember every method and instinct she'd used in her medical school days, to persuade a patient into co-operating and relaxing with her. That was the thing with dead bodies, she mused to herself, they didn't argue, ask questions or refuse to let her near them. Following George into her bedroom, Kay averted her gaze as George removed her blouse and bra. "It's usually easier if you're lying down," Kay told her, waiting until George was lying flat on her back on top of the duvet. Having retrieved a penlight from her medical bag, Kay perched on the side of the bed. George had her head turned away from her, clearly trying to keep her mask of emotional indifference in place. "Which breast is the one with the lump?" Kay asked. "My left," George replied stonily, feeling Kay's eyes on her, but refusing to meet them, determined to maintain her emotional equilibrium to the end. Kay was more than a little averse to laying her fingers on George's skin, invading her privacy in such a fundamental way. But this was the only way to ascertain what she needed to know in order to refer George to Ric Griffin. George tensed when she felt Kay's long, delicate fingers on the flesh of her right breast, her entire body rebelling at someone else touching what was supposed to be only either Jo's or John's familiar territory. "I need to examine the other breast, to find out what is normal," Kay explained, needing her words to cover up the rather awkward silence. George furiously bit down on her lip, willing her body to remain still, not wanting to betray her extreme discomfort at what Kay was doing to her. Kay examined every inch of George's right breast, making George blush scarlet as her body instantly betrayed her by reacting to Kay's gentle touch. Kay was aware of George's physical reaction to her, but completely ignored it, approaching her task with the professional disinterest that her training had taught her. George felt utterly mortified as she felt her nipple hardening under Kay's expert exploration, and wanted nothing more than to bury herself forever in the duvet under her. When Kay moved onto her left breast, gently palpating the flesh, George's nipple yet again rose to attention. "I'm sorry," George said, feeling the need to apologise for her reaction to Kay's touch. Putting a cool hand on George's cheek, Kay turned her face towards her. "George, it's perfectly normal, I promise," Kay told her sincerely, wanting to minimise her discomfort. "What, sexually reacting to someone I don't even think of in that way." "You can't help your body's natural responses," Kay said with a slight smile. "That sounds like an excuse John would use," George said with a nervous laugh. "If our roles were reversed," Kay assured her. "I would probably react in exactly the same way." "I'll take your word for it," George said a little disbelievingly. "So," She asked after another thoughtful pause. "Have you found what you're looking for?" "Yes," Kay said regretfully. "If I look at the lump I can feel with the penlight, I can see that the skin is slightly discoloured. George, are you sure that you've only had this since Christmas?" "Christmas was when I found it," George told her. "Though how long I'd had it before that is anyone's guess." "How often do you usually examine yourself?" Kay asked. "Probably not as often as I should," George admitted dismally. "Okay, you can get dressed," Kay said, moving away and switching off her penlight, and dropping it in her pocket. Swiftly putting on her bra and blouse, George found that she was unable to prevent the tears from running down her face. "I've been really stupid about this, haven't I?" She said, feeling tiny enough to slip into a hole and die. Laying a hand on her shoulder just as soon as she was fully clothed again, Kay said, "I'm not going to tell you that fear is stupid." "You think so though, don't you," George said bitterly. "George, just because I'm a doctor, doesn't mean that if I were in your position, I would have approached it any differently. I have absolutely no idea how I might feel and how I might react to something like this, so don't beat yourself up about something that you can't change. What's important, is that you're doing something about it now." "Only because you've made me," George told her with a watery smile. "I couldn't just sit by and do nothing," Kay told her honestly. "I would be breaking the Hippocratic oath for a start."