Next Thursday

The hand holding the plain white envelope trembled slightly as Peter stared at it. He blinked at it slowly, before placing it on the side table and picking up the phone instead. He leaned back in his chair, the familiar cracked leather settling into place around his body, and dialed her number.

She answered on the third ring. “Hello? Sarah speaking”

“Hi, sweetheart. How are you?”

“Dad? It’s so good to hear from you!” Her voice brightened. Peter smiled to himself.

“What have you been up to? How did the doctor’s visit go?”

Something crashed in the background of the phone call. Sarah muttered something under

her breath that Peter couldn’t catch.

“Everything’s fine,” Peter said, studiously avoiding looking at the white envelope on the

table beside him. “The doctors tell me I’m in the best shape of my life.”

His daughter chuckled down the line. “I’ll believe that when I hear it myself, dad.”

“Tricky girl,” Peter joked. “How are the girl’s? How’s the husband?”

“Oh, they’re fine. Alice is blazing through school, it’s hard to believe she’s only been there two months. She’s miles ahead of where Masie was at her age. But they’re both happy, they love it there.” She sighed happily. “And Joseph is the same. He’s decided to take up golf - his boss invited him out last weekend and apparently it was the best thing he’d ever done. Not counting marrying me, of course.” She laughed.

“Or the girls’, apparently.” Peter added.

“Or them, yes.”

The laughter died off quickly. Peter opened his mouth, hating to ruin her happiness, knowing he had to tell her soon or

he wouldn’t be able to. “Sarah, there was one thing -” he began, before being interrupted by

a loud bang. It sounded as though it had gone off right next to his ear.

“Oi!” He heard Sarah yell. “What have I told you two about playing with my pots and

pans.” A mumbled response. “Then don’t touch them. Sorry about that,” she said into the phone. “The girls are being nightmares at the moment - school holidays have started today and they think it’s a good excuse to be troublemakers.”

“Oh dear,” Peter said good naturedly. “Don’t be too hard on them, dear. You were much

worse at their age.”

Sarah laughed. “How did you stand it?”

“I didn’t. That was why you always went to your grandmother’s.” Peter joked, and was

rewarded by Sarah’s good-natured snort. “I knew it!”

He sighed. “Sarah, I -”

“Oh, hang on, dad.” A muffled sound came through the phone; Peter could still hear her

talking.

“What do you need with the DVD’s? No, I don’t know where the Tangled DVD is, I haven’t seen it since yesterday. Have you tried the girls’ room? What about ours? The car?” A few seconds of silence followed, before: “Why would it be in the bathroom? Whatever, just make sure the girls’ are happy with it.”

“Sounds like you are pretty busy, my dear,” Peter said. “Did you want me to call back

later?”

“Of course not!” Sarah replied. “I’m never too busy for you, dad.” Peter smiled to himself.

“I actually wanted to ask you -”

“Muuuuuuum!” The cry echoed down the line, loud enough for even Peter to wince. “I

can’t find my snuggly!”

Sarah sighed. “Just a minute, dad.” Her voice quietened again. “Where have you looked?

In your bedroom? Come on, let's have a look.” She was gone for little over a minute; Peter

counted the seconds on his watch. “Don’t lose it again! Hi, dad, back again.”

“Are we placing bets on how long it will be before it disappears again?” He joked.

His daughter giggled. “It wouldn’t be longer than a day, I’ll tell you that.”

Peter glanced over to the mantelpiece, where a framed photo of his two granddaughters

sat proudly in the center. The youngest, Alice, held a small purple blanket in her hand. It had

been a gift from her grandmother, Peter’s late wife, just after she had been born. Mere days

later, Rose had passed away. Alice had never been without her snuggly, as she called it,

since she was old enough to move.

“What were you going to tell me, my dear?” Peter asked, his eyes roving over the rest of

the mantelpiece, nostalgia setting in. Not much longer, he thought, his gaze snagging on a picture of his Rose on their wedding day, all those years ago.

“Oh, yes.” Sarah’s voice perked up. “I wanted to know if you would like to come to dinner

Thursday night. It’s been a while since we’ve had you around.”

“Didn’t I come around for dinner last Thursday?”

“Yes - like I said, it’s almost been a whole week!”

Peter blinked away a small tear. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll be there.”

“Good.” Sarah’s grin was audible. “I was thinking we could have - oh, damn.” She cursed, the words coming out of her mouth curling Peter’s toes.

“What are you using that language for?”

“The bloody dog’s gotten inside.” Frustrated sighs rolled down the line. “I had a chicken

on the bench for dinner - but not anymore. Damn dog.” She swore under her breath, before calling out for her husband. “Looks like we’re having takeaway for dinner tonight.”

She laughed bitterly. “The girls’ will be stoked. They’ve been asking for pizza for the past

week.”

“Perhaps they let the dog inside on purpose then.” Peter chuckled.

“That wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

The white envelope caught Peter’s eye again. Fighting the sick feeling in his chest, he picked it up and held it in front of his face. It shook in his grip, but he could still make out the printing on the return address. The Oncology ward at the local hospital. He remembered the appointment, the grave expression on the doctors’ face. There’s nothing we can do . . . not long, a few days at most . . .

He took a deep breath to steel himself. “Sarah, there’s something I need to talk to you

about.”

“What’s up, dad?”

He hated this. He couldn’t do this. The words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. He wet his

lips, trying again. “The doctor actually had some news for me.” His heart was beating wildly in his chest. “You know those pains I’ve been having?”

“Yeah? Do they finally have a diagnosis? About time.”

Peter screwed his eyes closed. Did he really have to tell her? “Yes. They think . . . they

think it’s -”

Raucous barking echoed down the line, making Peter jump in his chair. “Goodness me!”

He pressed his hand to his chest, although he knew he was safe in his old leather chair.

“Sorry, dad. Cooper! Get out of here! I’m mad enough at you already, don’t make it worse

on yourself!”

“You know he can’t understand you.”

Sarah chuckled. “It’s the tone that matters. Anyway, what were you saying?”

Peter opened his mouth, but before he could continue popping his daughter’s happy

bubble, a series of loud screams flew out from the phone.

“Oh, hell.” Sarah sighed. “Look, dad, I’m really sorry, but the girls’ are beating each other

up. Tangled always does this. I’m going to have to call you back.”

“That’s okay. I’ll see you Thursday.” The weight pressed down on his shoulders.

“Thank you, dad. Love you! See you Thursday” She hung up, the dial tone echoing hollowly in Peter’s ear.

“Love you too,” he told the empty room. He lay back in his chair, letting the white letter fall to the floor, and closed his eyes, knowing he wouldn't make it to Thursday, but comforted by the sound of his daughters voice.