First published in Great Britain 2018 by Trigger Press
Trigger is a trading style of Shaw Callaghan Ltd & Shaw Callaghan 23 USA, INC.
The Foundation Centre
Navigation House, 48 Millgate, Newark
Nottinghamshire NG24 4TS UK
www.triggerpublishing.com
Copyright Annie Belasco 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission in writing from the publisher
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available upon request from the British Library
ISBN: 978-1-911246-73-2
This book is also available in the following e-Book formats:
MOBI: 978-1-911246-76-3
EPUB: 978-1-911246-74-9
PDF: 978-1-911246-75-6
AUDIO: 978-1-912478-81-1
Annie Belasco has asserted her right under the Copyright,
Design and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
Cover design and typeset by Fusion Graphic Design Ltd
Project Management by Out of House Publishing
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Bell & Bain, Glasgow
Paper from responsible sources
www.triggerpublishing.com
Thank you for purchasing this book.
You are making an incredible difference.
Proceeds from all Trigger books go directly to The Shaw Mind Foundation, a global charity that focuses entirely on mental health. To find out more about The Shaw Mind Foundation visit, www.shawmindfoundation.org
MISSION STATEMENT
Our goal is to make help and support available for every single person in society, from all walks of life.
We will never stop offering hope. These are our promises.
Trigger and The Shaw Mind Foundation
This book is for you, Sammy.
Thank you for putting my heart and my mind back together again.
I am so lucky to have you in my life.
Disclaimer: Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.
The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in the book are the authors own and are not representative of Breast Cancer Now.
Trigger encourages diversity and different viewpoints, and is dedicated to telling genuine stories of peoples experiences of mental health issues. However, all views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in this book are the authors own, and are not necessarily representative of Trigger as an organisation.
CHAPTER 1
YOU-KNOW-WHAT
Benidorm was booked for July 2009 and we had everything: tickets, accommodation, outfits, ego, and tan. One week of pure indulgence and prowling to find Mr Right. I was 25 years old and sick of being single. It had been three years and there wasnt a single sausage in sight. God knows how many frogs Id kissed, how many princes hadnt rescued me. When I was growing up, fairy tales had never mentioned that the prince would never text back. They never said Id be left in a state of constant anxiety just waiting for something.
Apparently, when youre a 30-year-old woman, the presumption is that you should be married and have kids hanging off you. I was 25 so, with five years to go, I was over the hill and an ugly stepsister.
But surely this was going to be my year. Right?
None of that mattered right now, though, because all I cared about was getting out of my bloody office and on an easyJet flight!
Your tan looks amazing, Lauren said on the way to the airport. Lauren was a close friend of mine. Wed met at secondary school and bonded over similar tastes in materialist possessions and aspirations. Wed been inseparable since and helped each other through life. I had signed up for one of those course things Id seen advertised around: one week of intensive get me sun-kissed sunbed sessions, UV rays, and eye goggles. I had been treating myself to sunbed sessions ever since I was 18, when Id crossed the legal threshold for being allowed to be fried in a booth. I practically lived in there.
It had become an essential part of my life. It was just so easy and accessible, like buying a pint of milk. I would nip out on a Sunday morning, lunch break or Friday night and go and get baked. Fake tan had never been enough for me; I needed a massive colour boost to try to bring some life to my skin. I would pay 30 quid and get as many minutes as I could cram into my lunch hour.
I worked as an IT Recruitment officer in North London, smack bang in the middle of it all, which meant that it was fairly easy to pop out, lie on the sunbed, soak up all the high-voltage UV rays, and forget about the rest of the world. I returned to work one shade of mahogany deeper every time. And I loved it. I loved all of it; my job, my family, my friends, my pokey little overpriced rented flat in East London. I also absolutely adored my social life. No, it was more than just adoration; I was dependent on it. I relied on it to get through each day at work. No matter how bad things got, whatever went wrong, I just knew that by 7pm that night, nothing would matter. I would have vodka, cigarettes, and my friends.
Benidorm was mine and Laurens own heaven. We loved the sun, the clubs, and the men. Our mission was to capture our dream men, to reel them in and bring them home, but we arrogantly expected them to find us first. We had our pick of men and were super popular at the resort young, obnoxious, and up for anything.
We ran out of money twice while we were away and had to make the pleading phone call for my dad to send more money over. We drank our weights in vodka, slept all day and partied all night. We met stag parties, married couples, divorcees, teenagers on first holidays, and terrified locals. We were only interested in the men, of course all of the other women were completely irrelevant.
After our fourth night on the town, we parked ourselves in a greasy spoon caf for some heavy food to soak up all the damage the binge-drinking had caused. We ordered fried breakfasts by pointing to a cartoon drawing of a fry-up. As a frying egg spat out fat on the grill across the table from us, I could see the chef mopping his brow while pouring more oil into the pan. How are you feeling about next Friday? Lauren asked me half-arsedly, her voice tinged with the pain of a good night.
For a moment, I had no idea what she was talking about. But then I remembered: that poky thing in my right breast.
A cyst. A bloody huge cyst. A week ago, Id come out of a sunbed booth, got in the shower, and saw it underneath the glowing UV light. I dont think I would have noticed it under normal lighting. It had started off big enough, but it got bigger and bigger with each passing day. By now it was larger than a golf ball, but not quite as big as a tennis ball.
JESUS, that is huge! Lauren had exclaimed when I suggested she inspect it. I didnt think that it could be anything too sinister. I was too young for anything major and had no other symptoms of illness, I told myself.
