Part One Hundred And Thirteen
On the Wednesday night, after John had left for the Judges' seminar in Warwick, George knew that it was time to start facing up to the fact that she had an appointment with a surgeon the next day, an appointment that would put all sorts of things into action. But she couldn't go to the hospital and see Ric Griffin on her own, she knew that. She might be the barrister with the legendary temper, who could cut lower mortals down to size in a matter of seconds, but that didn't mean that her courage was strong enough to face this demon on her own. Ordinarily, she would have told Jo, and asked Jo to go with her, but not for something like this. Going to tell Jo was going to be difficult enough as it was, which wasn't something George felt she could deal with right now. So, a firm, sincere friend was called for. Karen therefore was whom she had chosen to accompany her, if she would, and George didn't think she was likely to say no to such a thing. As she drove over to Karen's flat on the Wednesday evening, she wondered what Karen's reaction would be to her news. George knew that Karen too would probably want to see her lump, as she had almost certainly seen similar things in her time of nursing. George was also aware that if Karen found out about how long she'd had the lump, she would very likely go ballistic. Karen wasn't usually one to restrain her feelings, and with this knowledge they would surely erupt in her face.
When Karen opened her door to see George standing there, she could see in her face that what she was here for was something at the very least worrying. "Come in," Karen said, wanting to try and put George at her ease. "How are things?" She said as she led the way back to the sitting room, which was long and comfortable. "That's what I've come to see you about," George said a little hesitantly. Laying a hand on her shoulder and thoroughly scrutinising her, Karen didn't like what she saw. George looked tired, thinner, and exceedingly nervous. "You look as though you could do with a drink," Karen said instead of voicing any of her observations. George smiled a little tentatively. "Yes, a large drink might just help." Karen wanted to cuddle her, to hold her as she did for all those months, to try to take away some of the pain that was obviously getting to her. Pouring herself a Scotch and George a large Martini, Karen gestured towards the sofa. "Sit down," She said, handing George the glass. "And tell me why you look like a rabbit caught in the headlights." Taking a seat at the opposite end of the sofa to Karen, George took a healthy swig of her drink and took and lit one of Karen's cigarettes that were on the coffee table. "I've got something to tell you, and something to ask you," She began carefully. "I don't especially want to tell anyone, but I know that if I'm forced to go on my own, I probably won't. So, here I am, asking you, because I know you'll make me go if it's the last thing you do." "Sweetheart, you're rambling," Karen told her affectionately. "Where is it that you need me to go with you?" "Hospital," George replied, seeing this as the quickest way to an end. The word hung in the air between them, waiting for the other shoe to drop. "I, erm," George continued hesitantly, still afraid of actually putting it into words. "I have a lump in my breast." Karen sat absolutely stunned for a moment or two, trying to process this piece of terrifying information. No, not George, not the woman she had come to know so intimately last year, not the woman she still loved. Eventually coming out of her stunned introspection, Karen asked, "How long have you had it?" Taking a deep breath to prepare herself for the rant she knew was coming, George replied, "I first found it at Christmas." "What?" Karen's exclamation was like a gunshot, hitting George with full force. "Do you have any idea just how much of a risk you've taken?" Karen demanded, the scorching anger not yet diminishing. "George, Christmas was two bloody months ago. Don't you know what happens when you leave things like that to fester? They grow, and expand, until they take over your entire body. George, I've seen people die because they left it too late, because they allowed the fear of what might be to overwhelm them, until it becomes an actuality." As her own words caught up with her, Karen stopped, realising that this was perhaps not the best way to go about reassuring George. But George had simply allowed her to get on with it, to let the anger pour out of her because she knew that Karen was absolutely right. She had been stupid, possibly fatally so, and here she was asking for Karen's help.
When Karen finally came to the end of her tirade, George looked over to see that she had tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," Karen said a lot more quietly. "It just terrifies me to know that you've had something like that for so long without doing anything about it." "I know," George said, taking Karen's hand in hers. "And I know just how stupid I've been. I just kept putting it off, finding every excuse in the book for not seeking help before now." "Boxing Day," Karen suddenly said with a thought of blinding clarity. "When I was on my way home and you phoned me. You almost told me about it then, didn't you." "Yes," George admitted with a small smile. "I found it that morning, and I phoned you with every intention of telling you, but you might say that my courage completely failed me." "So, who did actually manage to get through to you?" "Kay," George astonished Karen by telling her. "On the Saturday morning in the middle of Barbara's trial, Kay found me in the middle of what I'm assuming was almost a hypoglycaemic faint. I've never been forced to drink something disgustingly sweet before, but I was then, and she wanted to know about any underlying health problem I might have. So, one thing she did do for me, was to make me an appointment with a general surgeon, which is why I've got to go to the hospital tomorrow." "Which hospital?" Karen asked, and when George told her, said, "Well, that's an advantage of private health insurance for you. Who's the surgeon?" "Someone called Ric Griffin, who Kay assures me really is a genius with a scalpel." Karen was staring at her, utterly gobsmacked. "Ric Griffin?" She said, as if not quite believing it. "That's what she said," George replied. "Why?" "If it's the Ric Griffin who's fifty, black, and with a voice that could turn your insides to jelly, then I know him. I worked with him for nearly six years when I was nursing, and got to know him, well, perhaps a little better than I should have." "Well, Kay didn't fill me in as to any of those particular details," George said with a smile. "But I wouldn't have thought there would be too many general surgeons with the same name in the London area." "It sounds unlike him to do private work though," Karen said thoughtfully. "In my day, he was always a martyr to the NHS. If he's still the same man I knew, he's very similar to John, in that his utter dedication to his profession sometimes is his downfall. But you honestly couldn't find anyone better." "Well, let's hope it is your old flame then," George said with a shrug. "Because a genius with a scalpel is what I think I'm going to need."
They talked for the rest of the evening, both of them consuming a little too much alcohol. It felt as though they hadn't talked like this in far too long, both Barbara's trial and Karen's desperately trying to get over losing her son and losing George as a lover, having put a dampener on their actual friendship. When George eventually asked if she could stay, Karen agreed to it, because she could see that George had drunk far too much to drive, and that she didn't want to be alone tonight. As Karen lent her a nightie and a toothbrush and they both got ready for bed, they were both submerged in their thoughts. But when George eventually joined her under the duvet, they lay there in companionable silence, both remembering earlier, happier times when they'd been this close.
"I'm assuming that you haven't told either John or Jo about this," Karen said into the darkness. "No, not yet," George said regretfully. "And I'm dreading it." After a moment's thought, Karen asked, "What frightens you most about all this?" George didn't have to think about her reply to this question at all. "If... If they have to take my breast away, I doubt I'll be sexually attractive enough for John anymore. He positively delights in female beauty, and I'm not exactly going to still be a complete woman after surgery like that, am I." Karen could hear the tears in her voice, and it hurt her with almost a physical pain to hear such doubt of John's love in George's voice. Putting her arms out, Karen drew George towards her, seeing that some form of tender comfort was what she really needed right now. "John will always love you," She told her quietly, gently running her hand up and down George's back. "No matter how you look or what happens to you. When he does know about it, which at some point he will have to, he will be as worried and as blatantly terrified as I am, and as Jo will be. You are incredibly special to all three of us, as well as your father, and numerous other people who care a great deal for you. We will all be here to help you through it, because not one, single one of us would dream of letting you go through it alone." "What would I do without you?" George replied, the tears still running down her face. "You'd probably back out of that appointment tomorrow, and make the problem even worse," Karen told her knowingly. "But I'm not going to let that happen."
As their eyes locked, George could see Karen's love for her shining out of the deep blue orbs, bathing her in its warmth, and reminding her of the months they'd shared last year. She could feel Karen's familiar curves nestling up against her, and she was still cradled within Karen's comforting embrace. Karen wasn't really surprised when George's lips gently covered hers, because she could feel George's intense need to feel something good, something familiar, something she had always been able to rely on. Karen was almost overwhelmed by George's soft, beautiful lips and her warm, delicately probing tongue, and if it hadn't been for the nagging voice of reason reminding her that she had no right to this any more, she would have allowed things to take their natural course. But gently pushing George from her, she said, "George, don't do something now that you will definitely regret in the morning." As though a cold bucket of water had been thrown over her, George stared at Karen in total shock, and then turned completely from her in utter mortification. What on earth had possessed her to do that? This was Karen, not John, not Jo, but Karen, a woman whom she'd hurt so spectacularly only months before. "I'm sorry," George muttered into her pillow. Putting out a hand, Karen gently stroked her shoulder. "George, nothing would give me more pleasure than to make love to you, but it would only serve to make you feel incredibly guilty, which isn't something you need on top of everything else." "I know," George said miserably. "I just... I don't know." "Turn over," Karen encouraged her, and when George did, she said, "Just because we shouldn't make love, doesn't mean I can't give you a cuddle." As they again snuggled close together, George knew that here was a true friend, someone who would always do their best for her, no matter how she tried to fuck it up in the meantime. As George gently drifted into sleep, Karen couldn't help but admire her own restraint, and to simultaneously wonder just what the next day would bring.