Page 74 of Seven Days

Vicki sat next to him. She shrugged her rucksack off her shoulders and opened the flap. She pulled out a plastic bottle of vodka.

‘Want a drink?’ she said.

James did.

4

Sandra watched as Martin nibbled his toast, then pushed it to the side of his plate.

‘He’s eighteen,’ she said. ‘He can stay out at night.’

‘I know. But I worry.’

‘He sent a text. He went back to a friend’s house. It’s fine.’

Martin nodded. ‘I like knowing where he is. That’s all.’

It was understandable, given what had happened with Maggie, and on another day Sandra might have shared his concern, but her mind was elsewhere.

It was on the appointment she had at the hospital later that morning.

For a few months she’d felt bloated after eating. Not every time, but enough to notice. She’d assumed it was some kind of late-onset food allergy – a colleague had developed an allergy to apples a year or so back, so she knew that kind of thing happened – and tried cutting out various things: wheat, dairy, alcohol. None of it made a difference.

Then there was the weight loss. Not too drastic, but noticeable all the same. About ten pounds in total. She put it down to the bloating and change in diet.

But then, two weeks ago, she had gone to the toilet at the gym and seen blood on the toilet paper. She’d looked at the stool.

Blood in there, too.

Of course, she made the mistake of googling ‘blood in stool’, and was convinced, mere minutes later, that she was going to die.

She calmed herself. There were many possible causes. Haemorrhoids. Benign polyps. It could easily resolve itself.

It didn’t. The blood was there every day, so she went to see her GP.

Who told her she needed to get it checked out, and referred her for a colonoscopy.

Which was in about an hour and a half.

She hadn’t told Martin. She didn’t want to worry him, in case it was nothing, which it almost certainly was. It had been quite difficult to keep it from him, though, given that she had been sent a set of detailed instructions on ‘prepping the colon’, which basically involved taking a powerful laxative two days before and then not eating anything.

The abandoned toast on his plate looked delicious.

Martin caught her staring at it. ‘You can have it,’ he said. ‘I’m not hungry.’

She shook her head. ‘Me neither. I’ll eat after the gym.’ That was where she had told him she was going. ‘I need to leave. See you later.’

‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll text you when James shows up.’

5

James opened his eyes. The room he was in was dark, but there was light coming from the edges of the curtains.

So it was daytime, then.

He lay still, listening to the throb in his head. He was on a mattress, on the floor. On the far side of the room was a bed. It was unoccupied, but the covers had been kicked off, so someone had slept in it.

Vicki.