Читать книгу The Years of Loving You - Ella Harper - Страница 7

‘Great party,’ Sam said, shaking Ed’s hand.

‘Thanks. I actually did all this myself. I reckon Saskia is re-thinking our marriage now that she knows I’m actually a girl.’

Ed gestured to the silver and white decorations adorning the walls of their local pub. There were clusters of balloons in each corner, complete with perfectly curled ribbons, there were pretty silver swathes draped between light fittings as well as glitter-dusted white bows dotted here and there. It had taken ages to put everything up and he had almost broken his elbow falling off a bar stool earlier. But Saskia wasn’t really into any of this stuff and, for some reason, Ed had a feeling people were expecting great things. Probably because him getting married was a bit of a turn-up for the books, or whatever the expression was.

‘Blimey.’ Sam raised his eyebrows. ‘I thought you were the blokiest bloke around.’

‘Nope.’ Ed grinned, knowing Sam was probably wetting his pants on the quiet. Imagining Ed festooning balloons around a pub. Hanging bows and streamers everywhere. Emasculating and then some. ‘Seriously, Sam. I’m a bird. No two ways about it. Where’s Molly?’ he asked, before he realised Sam was on the phone.

Ed frowned. He hadn’t exactly been expecting to throw an engagement party, let alone one in the pub he usually frequented with his mates. Sometimes he went there with Saskia, but mostly it was a place Ed used for down time. He wasn’t sure they would ever see him in the same way now that they knew he was behind the bows and glitter.

Not that Ed was bothered. Saskia was happy, which meant that he was happy. He was content to watch Saskia in her element, floating around the pub in a cream silk dress that showed off her tanned legs, laughing and socialising.

Was Saskia a little drunk? Ed thought she might be. Nothing wrong with that, of course. He was a tad drunk himself.

Saskia’s parents were in tow, Ed noted. They were a distinguished-looking couple but they seemed somewhat bewildered to find themselves in a local pub, surrounded by a bunch of people they were mostly unacquainted with.

‘Saskia’s parents seem nice,’ Sam commented, covering the phone with his hand, following Ed’s line of vision.

‘Yes. They’re great, really great.’

Pressing a pint onto Sam and accepting one himself, Ed decided that he wasn’t entirely sure Saskia’s parents approved of him. They had been pleasant enough when he met them, but they hadn’t seemed exactly thrilled about the engagement. Ed wondered if it was his job – or rather, the lack of it – that was causing concern. Being a full-time writer and having the luxury of living off his friend Boyd’s shrewd investments didn’t show him in the best light, he supposed. It wasn’t how he had started out; it was simply the fortuitous way his life had unfolded. But Ed wasn’t overly inclined to sit Harrison and Margot (for those were the names of Saskia’s illustrious parents) down and explain his humble beginnings. Saskia knew some of Ed’s history, but not all of it and Ed thought that was absolutely fine. A partner didn’t need to know everything about a person, did they?

Molly disagreed on this point, Ed recalled, glancing self-consciously at Sam, the way he often did when his thoughts drifted to Molly – as if Sam could read his mind or something daft. Anyway, Molly had questioned him about this once and Ed had defensively justified himself. Molly was a person who felt that couples should be fully open with one another and she saw it as some sort of flaw on Ed’s part that he hadn’t completely opened up to Saskia, some sort of indication perhaps that they weren’t fully connected. Ed suspected that the reason Molly had such strong opinions on this matter was largely down to him. But shame was the perfect foil for candidness. There were just some aspects of life that were better left unsaid, in Ed’s opinion.

He took a look around the pub. He couldn’t deny that it was actually quite a buzz seeing all of their friends gathered together in one place, spilling out into the beer garden. In fact, he didn’t even realise he and Saskia had so many friends between them.

Strange things, weddings, Ed mused, watching Saskia almost tripping over and shrieking with laughter as one of her friends held her up. He had never imagined he would have the remotest interest in the details, or the organisation. But Saskia, who possessed many wondrous qualities, was not the most organised of people. Nor did she seem overly interested in colour schemes and venues. But she was over the moon about the wedding; Ed was certain of that. Her reaction to his impulsive proposal had confirmed that. Ed could remember it in minute detail …

‘Have you really finished the novel?’

‘I think I actually might have finished the novel.’ Ed scrolled down to the page that said ‘THE END’ in overly large letters. ‘Yes, I really have.’

‘Yay!’

Saskia jumped up and punched the air, before going behind him to drape her arms around his chest. ‘I’m so proud of you! This is wonderful. We should celebrate.’

Ed put a hand on Saskia’s waist, luxuriating in the warmth of her body, squashed against his neck and back. Saskia was a very affectionate girl. She was only twenty-eight, but she seemed more mature than her years. She was pretty, rather full-on in the bedroom and nothing much seemed to faze her. She had turned Ed’s house into a home with what he believed were called ‘feminine touches’ and he was very grateful.

Saskia leant over his shoulder. ‘So. What’s this infamous novel about? You’ve always been so vague about it.’

Ed saved his work and shut his laptop down. He had very good reasons for being vague about the content of his novel as far as Saskia was concerned.

‘It’s … it’s just about these two friends. Who keep missing their timing. Who love each other … who are maybe very much in love with each other.’

Saskia tightened her grasp around his shoulders for a second. ‘You old romantic, you,’ she teased, giving his ear a lick. ‘I do love this side of you.’

‘Do you? I rather like you licking my ear in that sultry fashion.’

‘Then more of it you shall have …’ Saskia gave a husky laugh and focused on Ed’s ear. ‘And if this gets published, you might get even more …’

Ed suddenly felt a wave of panic about the possibility of the book being published. Had he completely and utterly bared his soul to the world? Ed thought about the content and immediately felt naked and exposed. He had poured everything into this novel. There had been times when Ed had felt utterly raw during the writing of it. Reliving certain moments in history had been cathartic but also intensely challenging.

Writing a love story that wasn’t quite a love story had been poignant and then some. But writing it was just something he had had to do.

He heard Saskia murmuring something in his ear about how much she loved being with him … about her loving his house … the garden … everything about it … everything about him. Saskia wanted more. Ed knew she wanted more. And so did he. Ed wanted more. He was ready to settle down finally. And Saskia was a lovely girl. Perfect for him.

Ed wasn’t sure about the whole having children thing. Not yet, at any rate. But he could possibly see himself with Saskia long term. She was sweet, funny and loving. They got on well. They had much in common, enjoyed the same things. All of Ed’s friends thought Saskia was beautiful and sweet.

‘I’m going to get some champagne,’ Saskia announced. ‘We need to celebrate this moment. Well done,’ she said, giving him a juicy kiss.

Could he do better than Saskia, Ed wondered? In realistic terms, anyway. He had gone through a number of girlfriends over the years and none of them had captivated him the way Saskia had. She was a straightforward girl, but she appealed to Ed on so many levels. Maybe what he needed in life was someone uncomplicated. Saskia had moved in shortly after they started going out and Ed now couldn’t remember if she had asked or if he had given her a key unprompted, but it didn’t really matter. Saskia didn’t work, but she didn’t need to with all the investments Boyd had put Ed’s way. And Ed could hardly talk. He had worked so hard in the early years of his life, he had welcomed the years he had been able to focus on what he wanted to do – writing.

Saskia appeared in the doorway. She had shed all her clothes bar her underwear (Saskia did a fine line in underwear) and she was brandishing two flutes and an open bottle of champagne.

‘Let’s get drunk,’ she said.

Ed caught his breath. She really was lovely. They worked. Together, they worked. ‘Come here,’ he said.

Saskia smiled and sashayed over. Sitting on his lap, she almost dropped the flutes. ‘Ooops! We need those.’

Ed put his hands around her waist. ‘Marry me, Saskia.’

‘W-what?’ She almost dropped the glasses again.

‘Marry me.’ Ed kissed her. ‘Let’s get married.’

Saskia stared at him. ‘Do you really mean it?’

Ed panicked then pushed the feeling away. ‘I really mean it.’

‘Oh my God!’ Still clutching the champagne and flutes, Saskia put her arms around Ed’s neck and kissed him. ‘I can’t believe it. This is so unexpected!’

Ed grinned. It had been somewhat unexpected on his part as well. He had always thought he would plan such an occasion for months – plotting all the details the way he had learnt to do with novel-writing. He had always thought the event would have a beginning, a middle and an end, not be something he blurted out on a whim.

‘You’ve made me so happy,’ Saskia murmured against his ear. ‘I just want to be with you.’

Ed kissed Saskia. No. He’d done the right thing. He had finally finished his novel and he and Saskia were getting married. Everything was slotting into place. Everything was making sense. In fact, the only thing that didn’t make sense was that Ed’s next thought was that he wanted to call Molly. But this was his and Saskia’s moment. It was just that Molly was the first person Ed always thought of when something important happened …

Back in the room again, Ed bit his lip. One person was notable by their absence. Where the hell was Molly?

‘Where’s Molly?’ Ed said to Sam again, noting that he was off the phone at last. ‘She promised she’d be here.’

Sam frowned at his phone. ‘No idea. She had to pop out and do something but she didn’t say what. I’m sure she’ll be here. Congratulations, anyway,’ Sam added, tucking his phone away. ‘And I really mean that.’

Of course you mean that, Ed thought to himself. Sam was hardly his biggest fan and seeing him married off would please him no end.

He met Sam’s innocent-looking green eyes and something unspoken passed between them. Ed knew that Sam knew that he knew what Sam had done. All with the very best of intentions, no doubt, but still. What Sam had done might have changed the course of history. Maybe. Ed had no way of knowing for sure.

Saskia appeared at Ed’s elbow. ‘And this is my fiancé,’ Saskia said to one of the friends Ed hadn’t yet met. She was slurring.

‘Charmed I’m sure,’ Ed said, leaning in for kisses and pleasantries. ‘Thanks so much for coming.’ Christ, he sounded as though he was already at his wedding. He glanced at Saskia. She really was very drunk. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair was in disarray and she was clearly having trouble standing up.

‘Are you ok?’ Ed said into her ear.

‘Of course!’ Saskia patted his cheek and looked past him. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’

‘You might have had a bit too much champagne,’ Ed grinned. Even plastered, Saskia was ravishing.

Saskia smiled. ‘Maybe. I’m just having fun.’

‘Me too.’ Ed gave her a kiss. He watched her walk away from him, happy to see her enjoying herself so much.

‘I’ll give Molly a call,’ Sam said as he took his leave. ‘Chase her up. If I can’t get hold of her, I’ll probably call it a day and pop home.’

Ed nodded back, itching to get his phone out and chase Molly. Where on earth was she? It was his engagement party, for heaven’s sakes! Ed had attended Molly’s wedding and they hadn’t even been speaking to one another at the time.

‘Ed, lovely do.’ Boyd pumped Ed’s hand.

‘Thanks.’

‘Listen, we need to chat about some of our investments.’ Boyd raked a hand through his hair. ‘Sorry to do this at your party, but I’m afraid I have some bad news.’

Ed raised his eyebrows. ‘Christ, I won’t have to sell the house, will I? Saskia will never forgive me.’

Boyd shook his head gravely. ‘I don’t think it will come to that, no.’

‘I was joking, Boyd!’ Ed felt a jolt of shock. ‘Are you saying we’ve lost some serious money here?’

‘I’m afraid so.’ Boyd was joined by two of his many children. They wrapped their arms around his legs and started whining about wanting crisps. ‘As I say, apologies for the timing, but I had to warn you.’

‘Er … thanks. I guess.’

Ed felt a tremor of anxiety. The last thing he needed was for his investments to take a turn for the worse. His life was finally getting settled. He glanced over his shoulder. Where was Saskia? She seemed to have disappeared. He decided to go in search of her; he was about to make a slushy speech and she really needed to be around to hear that.

Ed headed for the toilets but couldn’t locate Saskia. About to give up, he heard a giggle coming from the kitchen area. A Saskia giggle. Hoping she was ok, Ed poked his head in. His smile faded.

Saskia was kissing one of the bar staff. With some enthusiasm. She caught sight of him and stopped.

‘Ed.’ She put a hand to her mouth.

The young bar chap looked extremely uncomfortable. ‘Shit. Sorry. I was … this is …’

‘Not what it looks?’ Ed shook his head. ‘Let’s not be silly.’ He held the door open for the boy who scuttled out, red in the face.

‘Ed, I’m sorry about that.’ Saskia swallowed.

‘About what?’ Ed was reeling. ‘About me finding you snogging someone else at our engagement party?’

‘Yes.’ Saskia looked away. ‘You make it sound terrible.’

‘Er, no, Saskia. It just is terrible. I’m not sure I could articulate it in a way that doesn’t sound horrendous.’ Ed wondered how he was holding it all together. Clearly his world had just imploded slightly. Massively.

Saskia was pleating her skirt ferociously. She had gone from flushed to pale in a short space of time and seemed to be looking at the floor with great intent. Perhaps searching for words to explain herself.

Ed wanted to rage at her. But for some reason, he couldn’t. He wanted her to tell him why he had just walked in on her kissing some other guy. Was it the first time she’d done something like this? The tenth? Had she always been unhappy? Why had she got engaged to him if she wasn’t fully committed?

No words formed.

Eventually, Saskia spoke. ‘I … Ed, I just don’t think I can do this.’

‘Do what?’ Ed stared at her.

‘This.’ Saskia swallowed. ‘This party. The engagement. The … the … wedding.’

‘You don’t think you can do the wedding?’ Ed shook his head dumbly. ‘I don’t think I can do the wedding! Not after that.’

‘No, but I was thinking that beforehand … not just … after that.’

‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’ Ed put his hands on his face. What the hell was happening here?

‘Probably not. But I need to explain.’ Saskia was twisting her hands together and she suddenly looked absurdly young.

Ed’s stomach shifted. ‘Go ahead.’

‘It’s just all become a bit … serious,’ Saskia said, her eyes meeting his pleadingly.

‘A bit serious? Yes, I suppose weddings do feel a bit that way, don’t they?’ Ed wasn’t sure how he was supposed to deal with this.

Saskia grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter, presumably for support. ‘The whole getting married thing. I did want things to move along a bit, but I would have been happy to stay engaged, you know. For quite a while, in fact.’

Ed looked her in the eye, wanting to see the expression reflected there. All he saw was regret. ‘Meaning?’

Saskia averted her eyes. ‘This has all been fun, Ed. You and me … we have incredible fun, don’t we?’

‘Fun. Right.’

Ed was starting to feel like an absolute idiot. He had misread the situation between himself and Saskia. He had assumed that her hints to move things along meant marriage. But no. She wanted commitment in a soft form … a prolonged engagement that kept the ‘fun’ element of their relationship alive. No wonder she hadn’t been interested in the wedding itself. It was Ed who had allowed himself to get carried away with all of that. He had believed he was ready and that Saskia was the right girl.

‘So you never really wanted to get married?’

Saskia grabbed his hand. ‘Oh, Ed. Don’t put it like that. I did want to get married. Kind of. You asked me, it felt lovely, I said yes. I just didn’t realise you wanted to dash off immediately and book venues and talk about buttonholes.’

‘Gosh. What a massive idiot I am.’ Ed rubbed a hand over the back of his head, not sure how his life had just blown up in his face.

‘You’re not an idiot.’ Saskia sounded upset now. ‘I just got swept up with your enthusiasm. I did love you, Ed. I mean, I do.’

‘Do you?’ Ed turned to face her.

‘Yes. This is just …’ Saskia paused, her pretty face scrunching up. ‘It just doesn’t feel like fun any more, Ed. It feels way too serious. Too grown-up. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m just too immature for all this stuff.’

Ed let out a sigh. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Saskia was very young, admittedly. Way younger than him. But that didn’t make her immature. Or it hadn’t, until now.

‘Stay, Saskia?’ Ed asked. It was the only time he was going to ask her, but he had to give it one last shot. He wasn’t sure he wanted to; she had snogged someone else after all. But he did love her. And it was only a kiss. He could get past it. Probably. ‘Stay and we can work things out.’

‘I-I can’t.’ Saskia hung her head. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She touched his arm. ‘I have to go.’

‘Go?’

‘Yes.’ Saskia looked around vaguely. ‘I need to leave. I can’t be here. This is … too much. It’s all just too much.’

Ed blinked. Was Saskia actually going to walk out of her own engagement party? Was she effectively … jilting him? Ed felt sick. He suddenly wished he hadn’t eaten so many cocktail sausages.

‘Goodbye, Ed.’

And that was that. The end of a relationship. The end of an engagement. Aghast, Ed watched Saskia walk out of the kitchen. Following her, he watched her walk right out of the pub. Her parents scurried after her, as did a couple of her closest friends.

Ed had no idea what to do. No idea whatsoever. ‘I’m so sorry, everyone,’ he said to the room at large. ‘That was – rather unexpected. I’m afraid the wedding is off.’

There was a collective gasp.

Turning to the bar, Ed rubbed a shaky hand over his face. ‘I’d like a tequila please. A large one.’

‘And I’ll have what he’s having.’ Boyd handed his children over to Helen with a mouthed apology and joined Ed at the bar. ‘Let’s get royally shit-faced.’

Ashen, Ed nodded and necked the first tequila of many. Molly. Where the hell was she? Ed needed Molly.

He made a quick call to Sara, Molly’s best friend. Sara was on her way to the party and seemed flummoxed that Molly was absent.

Ed grimly accepted another tequila. Hurry up, Molly, he thought to himself. Hurry up. I need you.

Molly sat in silence waiting to be called in. She hadn’t been kept long, but sitting in this particular waiting room was one of those occasions where time seemed to move so incredibly slowly, it was like being suspended in another realm.

Of course, there were worse things to be dealing with, Molly reasoned to herself. This wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to her. She knew friends whose children were in and out of that incredible hospital in London – Great Ormond Street, was it? Children with over-sized, inoperable tumours and unusual illnesses that meant regular resuscitation and any number of other complications. Molly also had friends whose parents, both of them, were suffering from cancer or something equally hideous.

So she had no right to be acting as though her world was about to come crashing down around her. Molly realised she was gripping the edges of the chair she was sitting in so tightly that her knuckles had gone white. She let go. Her hands felt fine today, ironically. They had for the past few days, in fact. Molly wasn’t sure what to make of that. Was it a brief respite? Or had whatever was wrong with her retreated for no apparent reason?

She glanced at her watch. She had missed Ed’s engagement party last week. She had sent an apologetic text to Ed to explain of course, but she hadn’t heard back from him. Which might mean that he was furious with her. Molly knew she needed to speak to Ed sooner rather than later, but she just couldn’t face it right now. Not until she knew for sure.

Molly shifted in her chair. She had received an immediate appointment with a consultant which was panicking the hell out of her. That didn’t bode well, did it? That meant they were fairly certain she had something serious. It was usually weeks and weeks until such appointments came up.

‘Mrs Bohle?’ Pronouncing Molly’s surname as ‘Bowl-lay’, a nurse appeared in the waiting room. Molly winced. Sam would go bonkers if he was here. He hated anyone who couldn’t pronounce their surname properly. ‘Mr Ward will see you now.’

Molly stood up, not bothering to correct the nurse. Her legs were like jelly. Was that a symptom? Or was it to be expected in the situation she was in? Frankly, Molly was fed up with all the uncertainty. It was better that she found out what was going on with her once and for all. Wasn’t it?

Anxiously, she walked into the consultant’s room and sat down.

‘Mrs Bohle. Good of you to come in so quickly.’

‘Good of you to see me.’

Mr Ward smiled politely. ‘Now. Obviously you initially went to see your GP about the tremors and stiffness in your hand and it was explained that there were various things this could be attributed to. A neurological movement disorder, perhaps. A few other conditions, but you haven’t presented the predominant symptoms.’

Molly found that her mouth had gone completely dry, as though someone had stuffed it full of cotton wool.

‘Are you feeling depressed at all?’

Molly flexed her hand. ‘Only about not being able to paint properly.’

‘But not in a general sense?’

‘I don’t think so, no.’

‘But you are having trouble sleeping?’

Molly nodded. ‘Not every night. But quite often, I suppose.’

‘Memory loss? Confusion? Balance difficulties?’

‘No.’

Molly felt panicked. She had forgotten what she had gone to the corner shop for the other day. And had suffered momentary confusion until she remembered that they had run out of milk, hence her jaunt to the shop. And she had lost her keys a few times of late. Did those incidents indicate memory loss? Was she confused? Or did most people have moments like this? Sam often went upstairs, laughed and came back down again, claiming not to have a clue what he had gone up there for. No one was saying he was ill – no one was suggesting that Sam might have something scary.

Mr Ward nodded calmly. ‘But you have noticed some painful muscle contractions in your ankles and shoulders?’

‘Y-yes.’

Molly was loath to admit to these symptoms but she knew she had to be brave about this. There was no point in hiding things. She had forgotten about a few things but her GP had jolted her memory the other day. It had been horrible, like pieces of a jigsaw slotting into place.

Mr Ward cleared his throat. ‘A degree of numbness and tingling?’

‘Very slight. But – yes. I have felt those sensations.’

‘I see. And on one side of your body predominantly? The right?’ Mr Ward tidied the papers on his desk. ‘Well. I am going to give you my opinion, Mrs Bohle. And it’s up to you if you get a second opinion, of course. I would, in fact, recommend it in this instance.’

‘You – you would?’

Mr Ward sat back and regarded her. ‘There is no objective test for this condition. I can’t run a blood test, do a brain scan or carry out an ECG. Unfortunately. The great thing about those tests is that they give us definitive answers. What we’re dealing with here is something rather more vague.’

Molly’s heart sank. It was bad enough that she was waiting to hear news that could cause major shock; she didn’t need to hear that she might not get a definitive answer.

‘However. I have carried out a thorough neurological examination. And what I can say is that you are presenting what we call “cardinal” symptoms. Typical symptoms associated with a disease that is fairly uncommon in people of your age, but increasingly on the rise. There is a scan we might be able to run – it’s not a diagnosis in itself but it could confirm that we have a movement disorder which could give us a clearer picture of what we are dealing with.’

Molly’s stomach lurched. She wondered if it would be grossly inappropriate to throw up in Mr Ward’s wastepaper bin.

‘You are exhibiting what is known as “resting tremors” – tremors which occur when your limb isn’t moving. And rigidness when it is. Typically, these symptoms – which appear gradually and increase in severity over time – begin on one side of the body and migrate to the other side later on.’

Molly suddenly wished she hadn’t been silly about this. She wished she’d spoken to Ed. She hadn’t even been honest with Sam about it, in case his reaction had been scathing. No, that wasn’t fair. It was just Sam’s way to be dismissive about illness until a firm diagnosis had been given; he had been like it with his father when he had been diagnosed with dementia some years back. Hadn’t accepted the signs and symptoms until a formal diagnosis had been received.

But Molly knew she would have spoken to Ed truthfully, for some reason. Perhaps because he wasn’t married to her, because he was only a friend, he was able to be more objective than Sam.

‘Mrs Bohle, my diagnosis, like that of your GP, is that you have early-onset Parkinson’s disease.’ Mr Ward gave her a sympathetic glance. ‘Now I know that can sound like a very scary thing, but it is not – I repeat – not a death sentence. There are various drugs we can start you on. There are also clinical drug trials you might be interested in. Once you’ve had a second opinion, of course.’

Early-onset Parkinson’s. Early-onset Parkinson’s. She had it, she actually had it. Oh my God. Molly’s head was reeling. She had furtively perused the internet over the weekend and she had found that early-onset Parkinson’s fitted as a possible diagnosis. She wanted to be in denial about possibly having it but nothing else fit. There had been many less-frightening conditions she could have latched on to, but Molly hadn’t fully believed that they matched her symptoms.

‘I have some literature here for you,’ Mr Ward was saying. ‘About drug trials, about support, about different symptoms and long-term prognosis. Different for everyone, of course, but it can be helpful to know what is ahead.’

‘Oh God.’ Molly leant over and started crying. ‘This can’t be happening. I’m – I’m in my thirties, for fuck’s sakes. Sorry. Sorry for swearing.’

‘No need. And I understand that this is very hard for you to hear. People as young as twenty-one have been diagnosed with this and it can be incredibly distressing, whatever age you are.’

‘But I’ve read such awful things about this – about bladder and bowel problems, slow speech, the freezing thing where you seize up and can’t move. Not being able to do bloody buttons up.’ Molly was openly sobbing now. ‘Are all of those things going to happen to me?’

‘Not necessarily,’ Mr Ward said soothingly. ‘It affects everyone differently. Many people of your age tend to focus their energy on managing the non-motor symptoms of this disease because quality of life is the most important thing.’

Quality of life. What was her ‘quality of life’ going to be like now? Molly felt shock wrapping itself coldly around her body. Would she be able to drive? Dress herself? Remember her own name? Was this illness going to render her incapable of conducting a normal conversation? Was she going to turn into a manic depressive? She had read that people suffering from this disease often experienced depression – either prior to some of the motor symptoms, or later on once the diagnosis had been received.

‘Get a second opinion, Mrs Bohle,’ Mr Ward reiterated firmly. ‘I could be wrong about this. It’s one of the diseases I dislike diagnosing because of the lack of definitive testing. So as strongly inclined as I am to lean in this direction, I would genuinely like you to run this past another professional.’

Molly stood up, nodded numbly and thanked Mr Ward. Clutching the literature he had given her, she left his office and walked out of the hospital. Once outside, she gave in to the nausea and threw up down a once-pristine side wall.