To-Do List

- Find math tutor for Jacob

- Book appointment for HRT

- Find solution to Leo’s 2 a.m. gaming sessions—Wi-Fi timer? Cattle prod?

- Cancel Total Pilates monthly subscription

- Order 37 pieces of cheese for PTA wine tasting

- Start DIY paneling in living room

- Return jumpsuit, leather trousers, and weird bandeau thing to ASOS

- Disable online purchases after 9 p.m. on a Friday

- Buy age 10–11 school trousers, GCSE Chemistry textbook

- Find a baseball club for Jacob

- Reinstall MyDrinkaware app

- Switch energy provider

- Buy socks (for both kids)

- Remember to take stupid expensive collagen

- Descale kettle

“Is the kettle really still on your list?”

Rose shakes her head, amused, as she glances at my phone. “Go on, just delete it. You know it’s never going to happen.”

“Yes, it is,” I say defiantly. “One day. I’ve already bought the descaler tablets. Not sure where I’ve put them, but still…”

The first time I came to the hospital with Rose, I felt like a spare part. I couldn’t really work out what my role was supposed to be as we sat in the waiting room, and I could only waffle on about nothing of consequence. I felt like I should be providing words of wisdom, advice, or at least a discussion topic more profound than this season of First Dates Hotel.

After a few appointments it became clear that I wasn’t there for wisdom—the waffle was the whole point. I suppose cancer is a shit topic of conversation for anyone, especially if you’re the one who’s got it. Since then, on the occasions when I’ve accompanied her for appointments with her breast surgeon or, now, radiotherapy, we’ve talked a lot about what she’s going through since her diagnosis, but quite often she prefers to stick to subjects she actively enjoys slagging off, such as my ex-husband.