4

       A hot, bubbly bath

      Awake again. The rickety bed creaked as she moved. Pitch black. There were no streetlights out here, just the sound of the rush and pull of the waves on the shore for company.

      God, her left boob was uncomfortable. She must have shifted to lie front-down in her sleep and crushed it a bit. The scar was still tight sometimes, and then that weird taut pain nipped down her arm from the armpit. She wriggled her fingers, loosening them up.

      She lay there thinking. She’d done it, made her escape to her cottage by the sea. Got away for a while. A chance to breathe again.

      It felt like she’d been in limbo since the op and the chemo, the radiotherapy thereafter. She’d grown used to that new life of appointments, hospital visits – it had structured her days and become her norm. She’d become friendly with the nurses and the other patients, and in an odd kind of way she missed them. Even though it was for the best-ever reason that she could jump ship and leave that weird journey. It had felt strange trying to settle back into her old life, which had come as a surprise after longing for that day so much. Yet nothing seemed the same once she was back working at the newspaper, catching up with her lovely friends Andrea, Jo and the girls in the office. When they started chatting about which shoes to wear with which dress for their Friday night out, it felt like a world away from where she’d just been. She should have been leaping around with joy, but she just felt quiet inside, more thoughtful than she’d ever been. Yes, it was good getting back to work, but it was like the axis of her world had shifted.

      She travelled back in her mind to the line-up of fake leather chairs, the chemo ward – sitting there with magazines and chit-chat, everyone’s lines attached to a drip like something out of a sci-fi movie. The hour’s wait, unnerving at first, but then you got used to it. She’d made it through … She felt tears prick behind her eyes. Others hadn’t. Rebecca, Leanne … the friends she’d chatted with, looked forward to seeing on her weekly visit, a nod and a wave to their families as they passed, saying hello, goodbye. Talking, planning what they’d all be doing when they got out of this place. Bloody hell – some of them had never got out of that place, and she owed it to them to make the best of this life she’d been given back.

      Claire had the feeling that change was about to happen, but she didn’t know quite how yet, which way things were going to go. All she knew for sure was that she couldn’t waste the rest of this life, this new chance.

      Yes, she was beginning to find her feet, though life still seemed a little wobbly at the moment. She must hold on to the fact that she’d been given the all clear, or as clear as they could promise for now. And for now was a good enough place to start.

      It was still dark outside – she could see from the crack in the curtains. It must be the early hours of the morning. She should try and get some more sleep, but her head was way too busy. She’d get up and make a cup of camomile tea.

      Venturing downstairs, she popped the kettle on and waited for it to come to a boil in the cranky kitchen. After steeping the teabag, she took her mug through to the lounge. She didn’t bother to put the light on. It was peaceful standing there just gazing out at the night sea, the silver flickers on the crests of waves under the light of a crescent moon. The warmth from the mug in her hands was calming.

      She thought she saw a glimmer of light flick on, then off, possibly from the cottage next door? Maybe she wasn’t the only one up at weird hours in the night. She’d put the light on in the kitchen – had that disturbed him? After all, it was three a.m. Oops, he might be an even grumpier neighbour tomorrow.

      Claire woke up groggy after her restless night. Tea on the balcony time.

      Huddled in her dressing gown, she went downstairs to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Crikey, even in summer it was chilly in this place. She hadn’t spotted a radiator or any kind of electric heater yet, just the real fire in the lounge. Thank heavens she hadn’t booked a winter break.

      While the tea was brewing, she spotted a few tattered books on the kitchen shelf – recipe books; there was one on baking bread. She took it down and flicked through a few pages. She’d always been partial to a bit of armchair baking, watching the trials, tribulations and fabulous creations on The Great British Bake Off. Maybe she should give it a go. She had plenty of time on her hands. And that loaf from the deli yesterday was scrummy; she wondered if it was hard to make?

      She took the book out with her. She enjoyed a cup of Earl Grey on her upstairs balcony in the rickety yet comfy deckchair. And pondered what to do with her break. How was she going to make the best of her time? A list started forming in her mind. Yes, she was meant to be relaxing, but she couldn’t help being a ‘to-do list’ kind of girl. Hmm, the first thing she fancied was a hot, deep and very bubbly bath.

      So, number 1: Soak in a hot, bubbly bath.

      What next? Hmn, yes, number 2: Sip a glass of chilled white wine with the sun on her face, the sound of the sea, and a lovely view. Perfect. She just needed to go and buy the bottle of wine.

      Number 3 (she was getting into the swing of this now): Watch the world go by for a while and hopefully listen to the sound of children’s laughter – there were bound to be some kids on the beach at some point. That was always guaranteed to make you smile.

      And if she was desperate for company later in the holiday, it would be lovely to invite her two small nephews up for the day. They always made her smile too. She remembered them finding her prosthetic bra insert when she’d stayed over at her sister’s house after the mastectomy. She’d slept in her younger nephew Ollie’s bedroom overnight, and he and Jack had spotted the mystery item lying on the bedside table the next morning. They’d been fascinated and had decided to use it as a Frisbee, chucking it around the room – she’d come back from the shower to find them mid-throw. Her sister, Sally, had been mortified and gave them a right telling-off, but Claire had seen the funny side – they were just kids playing. She’d ended up laughing until it made her sore.

      Number 4: make some homemade bread. Yes, she’d have a go at that. So along with the wine she’d need to pick up some bread-making ingredients.

      Number 5: watch that gorgeous (if grumpy) guy next door get naked again. She’d have to be alert early in the mornings, just in case. So, he might be a bit unsociable,