Left You Dead

19

Bill’s was a cafe-restaurant, occupying a corner site on cobbled Cliffe High Street in Lewes, the county town of East Sussex. It had a green-and-white frontage, flanked by outside tables beneath its awnings. As Roy Grace arrived there at 1.45, with the lunchtime rush tailing off, he was pleased to see several tables free. He chose an end one, well spaced from the next table, which was also unoccupied, and sat down.

He pulled out his phone to check his messages, but before he had a chance, he saw the bulky figure of Norman Potting lumbering towards him. He stood to shake his colleague’s hand. Usually irrepressibly cheerful, Potting looked gloomy. ‘Thanks, chief,’ he said, pulling up the chair opposite and lowering his frame onto it.

A waitress appeared. Potting ordered an Americano with hot milk and Grace a tuna sandwich and sparkling water. Potting didn’t want any food.

‘Tell me?’ Grace said.

‘Can you keep it confidential, chief?’

‘Of course.’ Grace noticed Potting’s voice was sounding more gruff than usual.

The DS looked at him with baleful eyes, and for the first time in a long while Grace noticed he was looking his age — and more. ‘I might have the big C back,’ he said flatly.

‘Shit, I’m sorry, Norman. It’s not your prostate, you said?’

He shook his head. ‘For some while my voice has been a bit — you know — hoarse, and I’ve been coughing a lot.’ He touched his throat. ‘And I’ve felt a lump on my neck. I ignored it for a while, but thought I’d better let the quack know so I rang the medical centre on Friday and told them. I had a call first thing this morning that he wanted to see me right away.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Well — he’s usually a pretty positive chap but he looked worried. He knows I smoked a pipe for years and that I’m overweight, drink a bit — don’t we all?’

Grace smiled sympathetically. ‘Drink? In this job, yes.’

‘He ticked me off for not coming to see him sooner. Told me that with my lifestyle I’m high risk.’

‘What is he worried you might have, Norman?’ Grace probed gently.

‘Well, he wants to eliminate the possibility I might have laryngeal cancer.’ He put a hand to his throat again and stroked it absently.

‘So he thinks it’s only a possibility?’ Grace said, trying to reassure him.

Potting nodded. ‘Apparently, from what he said, there are lots of symptoms that can mimic this. But he did point out at least twice that those at high risk from it are smokers, drinkers and those who live an unhealthy lifestyle.’ Potting gave him a shrug and an almost childish grin. ‘Guess I tick all those boxes. But if my number’s up, at least I can say I’ve had a bit of a life, eh?’

Grace smiled and wagged a finger at him. ‘Stop it! You are only in your fifties, that’s no age, OK? He said you’re presenting symptoms, but he wants to eliminate cancer, not confirm it, right?’

Potting nodded, a little sheepishly.

‘So, don’t talk yourself into an early grave.’ Grace tapped the side of his head. ‘I’m sure mental attitude has so much to do with fighting anything that’s wrong with us. Be positive, yes?’

Potting nodded again.

‘What’s your doctor’s plan?’

‘He’s referring me to an ENT surgeon, who’ll do a biopsy, CT scans, chest X-ray, ultrasound and a laryngoscopy, I think it was, he said. But it’ll be about two weeks before I get the appointment.’

Their drinks arrived and they waited until the waitress had moved away.

‘Two weeks?’ Grace said.

‘Two weeks in which I’m going to be, frankly, worried as hell.’

‘Listen, he said he wanted to eliminate the possibility of cancer. Take that as a positive. Even if the news is bad, cancer treatment is getting better all the time.’

Potting looked back at him bleakly. ‘I googled laryngeal cancer after I left the surgery. It has one of the worst survival rates of any cancer.’

‘Then stop googling it, OK? That’s an order. Think positive. That’s another order.’ Grace stared hard at him, their eyes meeting. ‘I know it’s easy for me to say, Norman, but really, please keep thinking positive.’

‘Understood, chief. I’d rather you didn’t — you know, tell anyone just yet.’

‘Of course.’