How to turn a world upside down

I stagger out of the building my head full of death. I pull my phone out of my pocket and call my Detective Sergeant, or Craig, as he likes to be called by the officers he supervises. I want to talk to Francesca, but this isn’t the sort of news that you tell your long-term partner face to face. Similarly, I need to tell my mum and Aunt, but there’ll be a thousand questions, hysterics. I need to have a cuppa and compose myself before I tell them. Anyway, I have a good relationship with Craig; he’ll get my head straight. I sit on the car park kerb and I sob into the phone, “Craig, I’m dying. I’ve got an inoperable brain tumour. I’m all fucked up”. His words are calming and soothing and help me get everything into perspective. At least the tears stop. After a while a ring off and call John, the guy I went to Poland with those few short weeks ago. John usually has an amazingly pragmatic view on life. If anyone can make sense of this its John. For the first time in the sixteen years that I’ve known him he’s dumbstruck. He keeps asking me to repeat myself as if he needs to hear it a multitude of times before it sinks in. We talk as I walk slowly to the train station.
I arrive at the flat some forty minutes later. Its empty, Francesca is out collecting Olivia from the nursery. After a few minutes I hear their buggy being pushed through the car park gravel. I decide to meet them in the basement.
“How did it go love?”
“Well, do you want the good news or bad news first?”
“Don’t do this to me, just tell me how it went at the hospital”.
“Well the good news is you’re going to be around £200,000 better off. The bad news is I wont be there to spend it with you”.
“What?”
“I’ve an inoperable brain tumour love”. She collapses in my arms. Her tears mingle with mine. I hold her tight to me and bury my face deep into her long dark curls. She smells and feels good as always, comforting, but somehow different. I’m appreciating her more. Unconsciously, I’m taking in every molecule of her perfume, and every inch of contact as if it were the last. The children begin to cry.