False Alarm

It was the first time Ted would see her disfigured body and the thought of his response had her all aflutter

- Christine Sutton

GWEN gazed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Gone were the fabulous cheekbones, the film star hollows just an illusion created by her granddaughter Laura’s skilful use of blusher. Released from the elegant chignon she’d worn it in for the wedding, her soft brown hair hung down around her face, the kinks from the hairpins still faintly visible.

Her hands fluttered as she unbuttoned her blouse. Everyone had said how lovely she looked, how absolutely right the cream linen two-piece and bronze silk top were for a lady embarking on her second marriage after a decade alone. She slipped it off and dropped it on the chair beside the bath, then unfastened her watch strap. Eleven-thirty, she noticed, as she placed it on the pile of clothes. Much longer and Ted would think she was avoiding going back into the room. Yet, wasn’t that exactly what she was doing? Putting off for as long as possible the moment when she had to go in and reveal to him the full extent of her surgery?

She laid her palm against the fullness of her left breast, then eased it across to the right. The bra’s soft padding replicated the shape well enough but it couldn’t disguise the lack of substance.

She unhooked the catch and slid the straps from her shoulders. She braced herself before raising her eyes to the mirror. The thin silver scar stood out like a snail’s trail against her pink skin.

Ted knew about the mastectomy, of course. As fellow patients undergoing radiotherapy they’d talked openly of their respective illnesses. But knowing about something and being faced with the reality were two very different things.

The fact of them both undergoing treatment for cancer was an unusual basis for a relationship but it had definitely forged a bond between them.