An Ignoble End

By Jacqueline James

Its a miserable rainy day in late 1995. The discovery of a malignant tumour in her right breast is the beginning of a ten year roller-coaster ride of despair, bravery, determination. Back in her biology teaching job after successful mastectomy and chemotherapy, all was well with the world and she was more than happy. Then, out of the blue, a new opportunity presented itself by way of a local election candidate calling to canvass her political leanings. She was so impressed she joined the local party and became more involved in politics at a local level to begin with. She took to it like a duck to water, and did very well as a ward councillor and began to think about a career in mainstream politics. With her grit and determination, she duly won the Parliamentary seat for her own constituency. The early days of her Parliamentary career were something of a shock. The one thing she and her husband had not properly considered was the fact that they were apart for four days a week, but a problem that was easily overcome when she employed him as her Parliamentary researcher. With her dream job, living the high life in London, what could be better. Till one day, the bravery and determination of yesteryear were to desert her in the wake of a second malignant tumour in her spine. As it was deemed inoperable and as a consequence life ending. All that is left is despair and determination to wrest the best possible deal out of this agonizing situation not for herself but her husband and twin sons. To resign her seat and get nothing would be a bitter blow. The trick is to be a member of parliament when she dies. The second half of the story is a political roller-coaster ride of lies, fraud, and deception culminating in perjury of the worst kind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Sep 22, 2009
• ISBN: 9781452055510

Jacqueline James

Thou’ not a literary masterpiece. This brand new author as come up with an original story based on life’s experiences and just how scheming, people can be when presented with stark choices. She is so easy to read you won’t be able to put this book down till you have read it. Then you will want to read it again just to be sure.

Book preview

AN IGNOBLE END

As we pulled into the gravelly, oily, water filled pot-holed car park, we sat quietly for a moment as we watched the rain drizzle down the windscreen. Neither of us could think of anything much to say, there was nothing much to say, just sit and watch the world go by in a wet spray at the end of the road. We were a bit early, I suppose we just wanted to get this day over with, a day that was destined to change my life forever. As we stepped from the car we had to hop and skip over and around the puddles, I was so nervous I nearly tripped as we approached the giant oak doors, beneath a carved stone lintel telling us it was built by William Dorcass in 1901. Doors that have guarded the entrance to this imposing red brick former work house for the best part of a hundred years. Once inside, we were met by the most uninspiring sight of grey walls, grey plastic tiles covering the floor in a grey painted corridor on a grey day, in early September 1995. With my heart pounding like a drum I couldn’t link my husband’s arm as I usually do when we go out together for fear he would feel me trembling like a nervous kitten in a strange new home. Not a very good feeling whilst waiting in that little green painted waiting room with very little heat from those cast iron radiators, the out of date magazines, and odd chairs. This poor little waiting room looked just as miserable as I felt. We are hear to be told whether or not our world was about to fall apart. The results of my biopsy were waiting for us. This was potentially the worst day of my not very long life of forty seven years. We are here because when in the shower a few weeks ago, I felt a small lump in my breast, as I realised what this could mean, I began to think the worst. The lump was just under my right nipple, probably that’s why I didn’t feel it sooner. By the time I had dried myself and put on my bath robe I was in one hell of a state, so I went downstairs to put the kettle on, there’s a lot of brewing up in this story. My first thought was, how was I going to tell my husband, what about the boys, do I tell them today or do I wait, as luck had it, they were both away at university, so that was something to be thankfull for. I knew it would be folly to put things off, if only for a week or two, so I bit the bullet and phoned my G.P. Even though the receptionist could tell I was very worried, she wouldn’t budge and said I should try again tomorrow because they were so busy. I put the phone down, sank to the floor, and sobbed my heart out. It wasn’t long before I heard my husband’s car coming up the drive, I knew I had only a few minutes to compose myself as he put the car in the garage. He came through the door with his usual happy smile. As I looked at him I felt so sorry for him, because I was about to bring his world crashing in. He really looked forward to these two precious days to unwind. As usual we sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, then as he looked at me, he realised I’d been crying. Then he said in his lovely soft voice, what ever is the matter, why the tears. As he sipped his tea, I told him about my discovery and that I had already phoned the doctor for an appointment, and that the receptionist was very terse, she said even if the doctor saw me today, there wasn’t much anyone could do till Monday in any case. Even when I told her what I thought the problem was, she told me to try again on Monday morning. Needless to say my husband was furious with my treatment at such a difficult time, and said he would go to the surgery first thing tomorrow morning. He asked if I had ‘phoned my mother, I said I was going to, then thought better of it. I’ll wait till I know something more definite, not much point worrying the poor woman particularly as she lives in Kendal in the lake district. She and my dad worked for ‘K’ shoes for donkeys years, even though she’s got all her faculties she’s very frail. We did ask her several times if she would like to come and live with us after dad died a couple of years ago. To say he died isn’t quite right, he was hit by a bus on Lound road near the ‘K’.shoes factory one horrible snowy January evening in 1993. Come to think of it, maybe it’s not a bad way to go, but not just yet ah. I did ring my mother, as I do every week, but I didn’t say anything about my lump. Even though I rang her every week, I could never find the right time to tell her, till I thought, why dose she ever need to know. It’s funny really, well, not exactly funny, but an odd quirk of fete, neither my husband or I had brothers or sisters, and each of us have lost parents. Now we both have to deal with this demon. I couldn’t prepare anything for tea, I was so worried, it’s just as well, because I couldn’t eat a thing anyway, nor could my husband, and that’s most unusual for him, as he has such a good appetite, well, we had just been knocked for six, but a cup of tea always seems to help. After a bit of tele’, I couldn’t concentrate at all, a couple or three glasses of wine, and some very unappetising supper, we decided to have an early night, no! not that sort of an early night, but we did snuggle up together, and surprisingly enough, had a good nights sleep, must have been the wine. Early next morning, about eight thirty, my husband brought me a lovely hot cup of tea and sat on the edge of the bed for a while. Then he said he was off to the doctors to give them a piece of his mind, but I know he’s far too nice to do such a thing. I wished him luck as he went down the stairs, don’t think I’ll be too long he shouted as he closed the front door. That was my cue to get my backside into gear and have a shower, having a shower and being to scared to look at myself to close, puts me in mind of the shower scene in that Hitchcock film, Psycho. It may sound silly, but I had a very quick shower, and made myself look more like the woman he married all those years ago. I’m glad I did, I felt a lot better, better than the snivelling wreck of a woman of last night. I finished making myself look a little more presentable minutes before he came back with a look of satisfaction on his face. He told me the receptionist apologised for yesterday, and said she was very busy. She was so much more sympathetic this morning, and made an appointment for me to see my doctor on Monday at nine thirty. Then he took a deep breath, looked at me with his big brown eyes, and gave me a big hug and told me how much he loves me, but he was unusually quiet. We went to the supermarket as usual, people say never shop when your hungry, it was easy for us, neither of us had much of an appetite at the moment.

We just bought a few essentials such as milk, bread, veg’ you know the sort of things. On our way home we had a look round the local garden centre, he bought himself some new wellies’ for the winter, and I bought some strong gloves, strong gloves was the last thing I needed at the moment, more like a strong drink, I just bought them for something to do. I couldn’t help but think there was something not quite right, I couldn’t quite understand why he was so quiet. Then, on our way home, it hit me like a ton of bricks! The poor man, no wonder he was so quiet. When he was in his teens, he watched his father nurse his poor mother through years of sickness of one kind or another, culminating in cancer of the bowl and small intestine. She died when he was only twenty years old. His father died a few years ago. I can’t remember how he died, and I sure ain’t going to ask him, now I was unusually quiet. When we got home, he tried on his new wellies, like you do. I put the kettle on and began to put the groceries away, and asked him what he wanted for tea, and tried to lighten the atmosphere as I admired his wellies. But it was no use, I couldn’t let him suffer his memories in silence. I told him I could understand his anguish at a time like this, I knelt down and put my head on his lap and just cried for him. He realised why I was crying, and did his best to comfort me, saying it was along time ago. Be that as it may, I couldn’t help having that feeling of despair, not least because our sons may well have to watch me suffer a similar fate. We both agreed to try not to let it spoil the rest of the weekend and tried to get on with life and to make the best of what we have. Sunday was fine but a bit cool, my husband just had to try out his new wellies as he swept the half a ton of leaves from the front garden alone, put them into plastic bags and went to the local waste disposal site. He was happy now he’d tried out his wellies, like a big kid. After tea we both had a little doze in the chair, must be all that fresh air, and dumplings we had. He took Monday morning off work. He said Monday is usually a bit of a mad house, but they’ll just have to manage without me won’t they, as neither he, nor I, wanted me to go to see the doctor alone.As we sat there with a dozen or so people in the waiting room, I began to think, it’s funny, but no one looks as if they have anything wrong with them do they, I certainly looked the picture of health. As we waited to see the doctor, my nerves were at breaking point. My husband did his best to reassure me as he took hold of my hand, saying that my lump could well be benign, but I was still worried sick, and thought it’s either one or t’other and could just as easily be malignant, and of course the doctor had no way of telling, even if she was fairly sure, she couldn’t say anything difinitive, just in case she was wrong. My visit to my G.P., was only to confirm what I already knew, this is just the first step on what will become a long journey, a journey of hope, relief, optimism, despair and, well, you’ll just have to read on. I don’t know why, but I asked my husband to wait for me in the waiting room, but he said he would get a breath of air for a few minutes, as I went in to hear what the doctor had to say. I’m not going to give you any detail about my examination, my husband wasn’t there, so why should I tell you. Suffice to say she did confirm my own diagnosis. I did have a lump under my right breast, and I wasn’t growing a third nipple. On our way home, in our new car, a Rover 620 ti, very posh, well, he works hard, but we couldn’t enjoy it as we sat in those lovely brown leather seats, with the engine as quiet as a purring kitten. I didn’t say a word, and thought I’ll wait till we get home. It’s a good job he’s a patient man, he didn’t press me at all, and not once did he ask to see where the lump was, or how big.

As we sat at the kitchen table with our usual cup of tea, I explained what the situation was. I told him the doctor did confirm I had a lump under my right breast, and I would need further examinations, but she wouldn’t be pushed into saying what she thought it could be, she just said we’ll have to wait and see. My husband said impatiently, has she made an appointment for more tests? I held out my hand to reveal a screwed up card, and said she would arrange for me to have a diagnostic mammogram at the local out patients clinic one day next week, next week! he said, why not sooner! and here’s me telling you he’s a patient man. About an hour later the ‘phone rang, my husband answered it, and after a few hums and hars, as he wrote something down on the note pad by the ‘phone, he said thank you and replaced the receiver. He said the doctor had just been onto the clinic, they will send a letter with details of my appointment and expect to see me next Monday, at nine o’clock. My husband was not best pleased with such a delay, but there wasn’t much we could do about it at this stage. Someone once said a week is a long time in politics. Well, they should try waiting for the results of these tests. All my husband could say was, that we’ll fight this together, every step of the way. I’m glad he was so positive, as I had the feeling he had put his own tragedy as a young man behind him, and was going to be as strong as he could for me and the boys. Whom?, by the way, don’t know anything yet. A week really is a long time to wait, so I kept myself busy with work and tried to get on with my life as best I could. We did get there in the end. This time I had to go to the clinic on my own, as my husband had to work on some sort of rush job. He didn’t want me to go alone, and rather foolishly said could we book another appointment, or see if there are any cancellations. I must say I blew my top and said I’m going for a mammogram, not bloody hair do! Then I assured him I would be o.k. as much as I wanted him with me, I said I’ve been waiting and worrying all week, and just wanted to get it over with. I didn’t mean to raise my voice to him, but, on this occasion, I did. My husband wanted to give me a lift, but couldn’t be late for his meeting at nine o’ clock. I was going to ring for a taxi, then thought, I didn’t want the taxi driver knowing where I was going, silly really, but there you are. As I strolled down the road to the bus stop I couldn’t help but think of my husband trying to concentrate, and wishing , as I was, that he was with me. Then I thought, he probably is, in his thoughts. A mammogram is a simple procedure really, a sort of squashed x-ray of both breasts. They always ex-ray both breasts, just to be sure. And of course there’s the ubiquitous form filling. The nurse asked me to fill in a form as long as your arm. Any history of cancer in the family, my menstrual cycle, birth control, child bearing, nipple discharge, breast pain, mother’s maiden name, well not really, but you get the picture. As I got dressed and waited for the nurse to tell me what my next move would be, she gave me a card just to say that I had had my mammogram on that day and told me I could expect a call from my G.P. in due course, and I could go home. I was in and out in under an hour. It was my intention to go back to work in the afternoon, they didn’t know anything about my mammogram, I just said I was going to the doctors. But as it was such a nice day I went into town to look at the shops, and get some fresh fish for our tea, cod fillet if I can, from the guy in the market. I arrived home about two o’clock. The first thing I did was to ring my husband, no, sorry, that was the second. I put the kettle on first, then I rang him. He asked me how it went and said I’d been a long time. When I told him I was at home he thought there was something wrong, no no no! I’m fine and said I had a walk round town as it was such a nice day. Good for you he said. Then he asked some silly questions, like, did it hurt, was it embarrassing, was the mammographer a man or woman, don’t be silly I said, I’m going into the garden shortly, so buzz off, I’ll see you tonight. Of course I had to give my him chapter and verse when he came home from work. The fish with some nice new potatoes and fresh peas, was beautiful by the way. Once again we had to wait over a week for the results. I couldn’t help but think the weeks soon add up, and is more than long enough to have to wait, but we had little choice. I’ve been so wrapped up in my story, I forgot to tell you what my job is. This is going to sound a bit big headed, but well, it’s true. I’m a clever sod really, I teach biology at a posh girls school, just a short bus ride away. Being a biology teacher dose have it’s down side, inasmuch as I have a pretty good idea of what this lump is, something I kept to myself, thinking of my husband’s teenage trauma, I still have cause for concern, that’s why I’m so worried, not just for me, but my husband and our two sons. These are the father’s footsteps we don’t want them to follow in, watching their mum suffering like this, as their dad must have done all those years ago. My teaching job gives me plenty to think about and helped me to put my worries to the back of my mind, for a while at least. Once again we were off to