Page 83 of Plot Twist

He was silent. The suspense was annoying me rather than killing me. Why wasn’t he just spitting it out?

‘Dad, what is it? Just a leaflet about something? My doctor’s surgery was getting work done the last time I was there, it could just be something to do with that.’

‘I’ll send you a picture, Becca. But it says something about the smear test you went for. They’ve been trying to call you. Something about abnormal cells. They want you to come back in for a colposcopy. Whatever that is. You’ve to call and arrange it.’

Dad’s voice shook as he spoke. I knew he was thinking about Mum. I wished he wasn’t thinking about that. I wished I didn’t know him so well that I knew he was thinking about it too.

I wished I wasn’t thinking about it either.

‘Oh,’ I said. Damn shaking hands. ‘What does that even mean? Does it mean I have cancer?’

‘I don’t know, Becca. I don’t think so, it doesn’t say anything about that, it just says you’ve to call. You should do it now. Like, today. You need to come home.’

And just like that, the sign from the gods had come.

‘OK, Dad, don’t panic. I’ll call the surgery and ask them for some more details. I’ll Google around and get a bit more information, too.’

‘Don’t fucking Google anything, Becca,’ he warned. ‘You’ll only panic. It’ll say you’re about to drop down dead.’

But we both knew that as soon as we hung up, we were going to Google the hell out of whatever it was in the letter. The colposcopy procedure. I’d never heard of it. It sounded like a colonoscopy, though, which I knew wasn’t entirely pleasant. I wondered if it was similar. I shivered.

‘I’m shitting myself, Dad,’ I confessed.

Suddenly, Dad seemed too far away.

‘Me too, Becca Bear. But we don’t know anything yet. Let’s read up on it and then decide whether to shit ourselves and we can do it together. Deal?’

‘Deal. I’ll phone you back. Send me the picture,’ I said.

‘I’m on it,’ Dad said.

Colposcopy:a simple procedure used to look at the cervix, the lower part of the womb at the top of the vagina. Often done if cervical screening finds abnormal cells in your cervix. These cells could go away on their own, but there is a risk they could eventually turn into cervical cancer if not treated.

Of course I fucking Googled it.

A simple procedure. Only a risk, not a confirmation, of cervical cancer. They just needed to have a wee look, that’s all. It wasn’t necessarily something to panic about.

But my heart pounded in my chest as I leaned against the beautiful armchair that took pride of place in one of the cottages. Apartment seven. The one that needed a light fixed.

I blinked and, before I could think too much about it, I called my doctor’s surgery.

‘Hello, Parkville Medical Practice,’ the voice said.

I recognised her voice. It was Moira. ‘Not to be fucked with’ Moira.

‘Hello.’ My voice sounded much more confident than I felt. ‘It’s Becca Taylor. I am calling to book a colposcopy. I got a letter in the post.’

‘Can I take your date of birth?’

The digits fell out of my mouth on autopilot, and she tapped them into her computer.

‘Ah yes, here you are,’ she said.

I wondered if my name came up with red flashing lights ‘POSSIBLE CERVICAL CANCER: TBC’ when she typed it in. What did my notes say? What exactly was the problem with the smear test?

‘Maybe they didn’t do it properly. The smear test, I mean. There was a student in. Maybe she made a mistake. She looked about twelve,’ I said.

I hoped they wouldn’t hold it against the poor student. I didn’t want her to get marks off her assignment or anything, but she did look a little young to be playing around with possible cervical cancer.