Six months passed and with our lives settled in a pleasant routine, it seemed that nothing would disturb them, but then we've all heard of 'the calm before the storm', and when the storm broke it caused a big upheaval in our lives. My first hint that something was wrong was when my mother's letter was late. We corresponded on a very regular basis, usually by aerogrammes, and allowing for the variation in the time for the letter to arrive and a week to write a reply, we would both expect a reply in about five weeks. We knew each other's style of writing so well (and it was usually Mum who wrote, with an occasional paragraph from Dad) that I had felt her latest letter was not as chatty as usual, but there was nothing I could put my finger on, so I replied as usual. Six weeks passed which was unusual, and I had made up my mind to phone to see if all was well, but that evening the telephone rang, and on picking it up I realised it was an overseas call. Dad's voice came on the line, but he sounded so strained that for a second I didn't recognise him.

“Lesley, is that you? I've got some bad news. Your Mum's not well, not well at all.”

“What's wrong Dad? Please, you have to tell me.”

“She's got cancer, a bad one, the ovaries.” I froze. I'd heard of ovarian cancer, and how the symptoms were so subtle that diagnosis was often too late for any effective treatment. I suddenly remembered things Mum had said when she'd been in Australia. How she'd had some back-ache and often felt tired; how she seemed to have lost her appetite and on more than one occasion had rushed to the toilet. Taken individually, each symptom could have had many causes, but now regarding them as a group, I started to think that perhaps these were the warning signs we didn't recognise.

“Is she in hospital, Dad?”

“Yes. A specialist has seen her. They say there are some treatments but I think they are trying to let us down gently. I don't really think there is much they can do. She'll be coming home in a few days. Your cousin Marie is very good. She's offered to come and help.” He sounded on the brink of tears.

“Daddy, I'll come over at once.” I said.

“Will John be alright about that?”

“I'm sure he'll understand, but I'll go and talk to him right away. I'll call you as soon as I know when I can be there. Tell Mum I love her, and I love you too Dad. We're in this together.”

As soon as John saw my face, he knew that something was badly wrong. He held out his arms and held me, and of course I started to cry then, so it was difficult for him to make put what I was telling him, but as soon as he understood, he said. “You'll go over right away of course.”

“Thank you darling. I hate to leave you in the lurch, but I suspect it may not be for a very long time if what I've heard about the disease is true.”

That night John held me until I fell asleep. We did not make love, but it was so comforting to be held in his arms. I managed to book a flight for three days later, and called Dad to let him know.

“I'll come to London to meet you.” he said. “Your cousin Marie has arrived to stay for a few days, so Mum will be fine for a few hours.”

I know he must have a reason for coming to Heathrow, presumably to bring me fully up to date with what the doctor had said, and Mum's likely prognosis. Seeing Marie again would be a very small silver lining in a very large black cloud. I decided to ring her too to get the latest news.

“Hi Lesley. It's such rotten luck, just when they were enjoying their retirement. They loved their trip to visit you so much. They've told me all about it.”

“I thought they both looked a bit under the weather, but then I heard about Dad's heart problems, and Mum couldn't put her finger on anything specifically wrong with her, so I thought perhaps the aches and pains were just her getting older. Now I think what we were seeing were the symptoms of the cancer. Tell me honestly Marie, how long do you think she's got?”

“It's hard to say,” replied Marie. “But I think we're talking a month or two at most, probably less.”

I gasped. As short a time as that. “Well, I'll be over there in about four to five days, and at least I've got seeing you to look forward to, but everything else seems pretty bleak.”

I packed some clothes, and decided to take the train down as I could be in England for several months and didn't want to leave the Cessna in Brisbane all that time.

I boarded the 747 which was usually something of a thrill, being the start of a trip to the other side of the world. I've always enjoyed flying, especially since all my long-haul flights have been business class, which when I've seen the cramped conditions of economy, made me very grateful indeed that we could afford more luxurious seating. This time, even the comfort of the seating and entertainment was lost on me as I could think of nothing else but what would face me when I arrived in England.

As the flight progressed, a few times I had felt someone's eyes on me, and looked up to see a handsome man in his forties, with slightly greying hair, and dressed in a business suit, sitting across the aisle. To be honest, there isn't a woman in the world who doesn't find a handsome man's attentions flattering, and so long as that's as far as it goes, then there is no harm done. Fate, however took a hand, and this is something which I still feel rather ashamed about all these years later. I'm even tempted to 'air-brush' it out of my memory, but if I cannot be honest with myself, what hope is there for me?

We had to change planes at Dubai, and we were all sitting in the business class lounge, when one of those stunning stewardesses in their chic uniforms came in and took the microphone down to make an announcement. It seemed that our next plane had developed a technical fault, and due to other flights being fully booked, there was no alternative but for us to be given first class hotel accommodation and put on a flight the next morning. I telephoned Dad to explain what had happened and gave him a new time for my arrival the next day.

When we got on the bus to take us to the hotel, I wasn't exactly surprised when the handsome man, who soon introduced himself as Sam, sat down beside me. He was a smooth talker alright. He said he was surprised to see such an attractive woman travelling on her own, and being reluctant to discuss my own business, I merely said that I had to make a trip to England and my husband was too busy to accompany me.

“His loss is my gain then.” he remarked, which I felt was rather cheeky, but to be honest I was starting to think about Mum again, and welcomed a distraction, any distraction, so when Sam invited me to dinner at the hotel that night, I agreed, against my better judgement. I had not really packed with any thought of fine dining in mind, although by chance I had packed one silk cocktail dress — why I have no idea, but it was now coming in very handy. I have always worn pretty lingerie, stockings and heels when going out to dinner. Perhaps I should have played down the glamour, but again I wasn't really thinking. When Sam knocked on my door, he expressed his appreciation with a quiet wolf whistle, and of course I blushed as I always did. I was still thinking that this was no more than a pleasant evening out with a charming older man.

Charming Sam certainly was. The meal was great, and there was a trio and a small dance floor, so we danced. He held me close, and in my present worried state, it felt nice and comforting. I noticed that he was becoming a little aroused by my closeness, but that was alright too. I probably drank a little more than usual, but when the evening turned from harmless flirting to something more, I really can't say. I can try and make excuses even now. I could say that I was desperate for distraction from what I was facing when I arrived in England. Another thing might have been that while John and my lovemaking was good, perhaps a little of the spark had gone out of it. It even crossed my mind to wonder if a man who had no idea about my past would even suspect that I was not a fully genetic female. These are all excuses of course, and not very satisfactory ones. It was all too obvious to me that Sam, who had already told me he made numerous overseas trips every year, saw finding an attractive woman with a view to taking them to bed as a fringe benefit of his occupation.

When Sam mentioned that the view of the city lights from his room on the twelfth floor were stunning, it was quite obvious that what he had in mind was far more than just looking at the view, but nevertheless, I allowed him to take my hand and lead me to the elevator. Once in his room, I crossed to the window and looked down at the city-scape of shimmering lights below me. Up to the point, apart from dancing, Sam had not touched me, but now he came up behind me, put his arms around me and nuzzled my ear, and I froze. What on earth was I doing? Had I lost my mind?

I turned to him. “I'm sorry Sam, this is all my fault leading you on, but I can't do this.”

He looked a little surprised, but to give him his due he did not try to force the issue, for which I was thankful. I knew what a vulnerable position I was in.

“Come and sit down and tell me the story, the whole story this time.” he said.

So I sat down and told him all about my mother and how worried I was and how I had used him as a distraction and felt very bad about it. “If you weren't such a nice man, I wouldn't even be in your room right now. I've never done anything like this before,” I went on “I'm happily married to a wonderful man who trusts me totally and I feel I've let him down as well as myself.”

Sam smiled and patted my hand “Don't be too hard on yourself. We all react differently to stressful situations, and the fact is that nothing really happened except we had a pleasant evening together. Whether you chose to tell your husband about it or not is your decision, but don't load yourself down with guilt.”

I knew that I would never tell John about that evening. There might forever be a tiny niggling element of doubt in his mind as to whether I had told him the whole truth. No, this was something to keep to myself forever.

“Well, I think the best thing you can do now is get yourself some sleep,” said Sam “You know what Shakespeare said 'Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleeve of care'? Old Will knew what he was talking about. It's absolutely the best thing for you right now.”

I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

Then I took the elevator down to my room. As I undressed I thought about the evening. It all seemed like a dream. I got into bed and was soon asleep, and only awoke when a knock on the door signalled the arrival of breakfast. Then I showered and dressed and got ready for the bus back to the airport. In the business lounge at the airport Sam caught my eye once and gave a slight smile. Obviously for him this was his way of saying 'goodbye and good luck'. He made no attempt to speak to me and I was grateful for that, as I had no idea what I could say to him. He wasn't a bad man. Obviously he had had plenty of conquests during his many international flights and I was one of the few that 'got away', but he didn't seem to bear a grudge.

One advantage of Business Class, is that you are close to the head of the queue in getting off the plane and out of the airport. As I pushed my trolley out into the public waiting area, there was Dad, looking somehow shrunken and even older than when I last saw him only six months previously. I walked quickly to him and we embraced silently.

“Thanks for coming to meet me,” I said. I knew that tears were streaming down my cheeks, but I didn't care. Arrival points are often areas of high emotion, and who had more good reason than us?

As we took the train out to Oxford, I asked how they had found out about Mum.

“It was very difficult, you know. It's one of the hardest things to diagnose. She kept going to her local GP, but he couldn't pin it down at all. Now you know Mum's always been the boss in our relationship, no good fooling myself about it, but for once I put my foot down and got her to go to a new lady GP who had just opened up a practise locally. Perhaps the fact she's a woman made her think outside the box a bit, because she suspected what it was on Mum's first visit, and a visit to a specialist confirmed it, but by then of course it was too late. To be fair to the other GP it was too late even when he was seeing her. Now all we can do is keep her comfortable.”

“And how is she in herself?”

“She has her good days and her bad ones. She was good today because Marie and young Michael are there, and boy, is he a bundle of mischief!”

We took a taxi out from Oxford to their cottage, and I couldn't help remembering our first visit and how nervous I had been. I was nervous again, but for a different reason this time. When we walked in, Mum was sitting in an armchair. She looked pale and thin, but her old smile was still there.

“Lesley darling! It's so good to see you again. I'm so sorry to drag you halfway around the world.”

“Nonsense Mum,” I walked over and kissed her cheek. It seemed redundant to ask how she was, I already knew that. Then I turned to Marie and got a surprise.

“Well, look at you! When's the next one due?”

“About four months,” said Marie as she came over to hug me.

“And look how this little man is growing!” I said looking down at Michael. Every time I see a small child, I can't help thinking how much I would love to have had children of my own, but then you can't have everything in life.

Michael was strictly speaking my second cousin, but it sounded more natural for Marie to introduce me as Aunty Lesley, so that's what we settled on. I stooped down and presented him with a toy kangaroo and koala, and he took them with solemn eyes, still a bit unsure of this stranger, but in the coming days we started to get on really well. They stayed on for another couple of days before returning to Bath, and we promised to stay in close touch.

The next day, Mum was not so well, perhaps she had been over-excited by my arrival and Marie and Michael's presence, so she stayed in bed. One thing did please me. She was obviously very happy to have me there. It is often said that people who are dying go through five stages, from denial to final acceptance. Mum had already reached the stage of acceptance, but for me it was hard to accept that the central female figure in my life would not be there much longer. Denial was hardly logical when I had just travelled half-way around the world, but I rapidly progressed to the second stage of 'Anger'. After all, why should this woman who had led quite a blameless life, have it cut short, when every day you could read in the newspapers of people whose passing would make the world a better place, and yet they seemed almost immortal?

I was in no condition to bargain for her life, the next stage, since all that could have been done had been done, and yet another medical opinion would have been pointless, so from there I went to depression, and spent most nights with my face buried in my pillow to muffle the sound of my sobs at the unfairness of it. Finally, I too reached the final stage of acceptance, and the realisation that unlike many children, I had been given the gift of time with Mum, and that I should cherish this time and use it wisely.

Within a couple of weeks of my arrival, Mum was rarely getting out of bed, and was visibly sinking. I spent many hours sitting at her bedside, just holding her hand in silent companionship, and this seemed to please her. One afternoon, when I thought she was asleep, she suddenly said “I'm not afraid of dying you know, Lesley. I believe that we will all see each other again some day. I'm so glad that I have that faith, but what about you Lesley, do you have faith?”

Did I have faith? It was true that from a total rejection of religion in my late teens, experiences had started to make me wonder if in fact there was more than just the physical world — 'the divinity that shapes our ends' as Shakespeare put it. For some reason, my meeting with the aboriginal elder Coorah came to mind and I told Mum about her and how her appearance came at a critical moment for me.

“To this day I don't know if she was a living person or a spirit” I said, "and perhaps it doesn't really matter either way.”

Another afternoon Mum said quietly. “It's Dad I'm worried about more than anything. Men usually die first, and it's better that way because we women can cope with being alone more easily. Marie has been wonderful, but she has a husband and child, plus another little one on the way. I know you will do your best for him, but your place is with your husband on the other side of the world, so you can't stay here for ever.”

“I promise I will do my best for Dad, you know that. He might come out and visit us too, but I suspect he'll want to live here where his friends are.“

“Thank you darling,” she murmured. “You truly have turned into the most wonderful daughter and I couldn't have asked for a better child.”

I felt myself blushing, but it didn't matter. “I have a wonderful teacher.” I replied.

Eventually Mum sank to the stage where the doctor on her frequent visits, suggested that she would be better off in a hospice. Mum seemed happy enough at the prospect, but nature took a hand as it so often does. The day before she was due to be moved, the doctor came again, and after checking her she took me aside and said, “I don't think the hospice is necessary as I think it will happen in the next twenty-four hours. I'm very sorry.”

I clasped her hand. “It's all right, doctor. Thank you for all that you have done for Mum. I know she really appreciates it. For me, the important thing was that she should not be in pain, and you've handled that brilliantly.”

That night, Dad and I took turns, or else sat on either side of Mum's bed, holding her hands. The hours slipped by, and occasionally I had to look hard at her as she was breathing so lightly. It was around three a.m. when she rallied a little, looking at us both and in a whisper said “I love you both, darlings. Joseph, thank you so much for being such a wonderful husband. Lesley, you've been the best daughter any mother could hope to have.”

She lay back on the pillows. For a moment I felt distinctly that her spirit was hovering over us, and then she was gone. I sat there for a while in silence, and then I got up and leaning over, kissed her gently on the cheek, and left the room to allow Dad some private time alone with his wife. I did not cry then, but I did later. At that time I think I had already cried all the tears that were in me.

Marie came back for the funeral of course, together with her husband Michael and little Michael junior. They were really the only people that I knew, although Mum and Dad were regular churchgoers, so the church was quite full. Dad sat there the whole time, looking at the flower-draped casket, his face like stone. He did not feel able to speak , so the priest gave the eulogy. I got a mention, and even in that solemn service, I felt a flicker of amusement as I couldn't help wondering what those good people would have felt if they knew that Mum and Dad's child had started off in life very differently to how she looked now.

After the service there was the usual sandwiches, cakes, tea and coffee in the church hall. The buildings were several hundred years old. They would be national monuments in Australia, but here they were still working buildings. People I didn't know came up and gave me their condolences and I appreciated that. There was just one tense moment when a stout old woman who apparently had known Mum and Dad in London came up, and after inspecting me rather searchingly, said. “Hmmm I always thought your parents had a son.”

I smiled sweetly and replied “Well they only had one child and that's me. Sometimes the mind plays tricks as we get older.” She still didn't look totally convinced, and let out a snort as she moved purposefully towards the refreshment tables.

I stayed on after the funeral, helping Dad sort out Mum's things, taking her clothes to a charity shop. He was grateful for that, saying he didn't know how to handle them without starting to cry again. We rearranged the furniture a bit too. I didn't push him as to what he intended to do. The house was not big and I was sure that he could keep it tidy on his own, or else get someone in weekly to keep it in order. He had been taking some basic cookery lessons from Mum when she was well enough and now from me, so I was sure that he would not starve. I didn't like to broach the subject of going back to Australia, but fortunately in the end he realised my dilemma and brought up the subject himself.

“Lesley, I don't know what I would have done without you these last weeks, but now it's time you returned to your husband in Australia. John needs you too. I'll be alright. I can always talk to Marie on the phone, and you too of course. I have my friends at the cricket club and bowling club. I won't be lonely. Well strictly speaking that's not true, but there are many people in the world more lonely then me. I can cope.”

“Oh Daddy,” I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him, and he hugged me back. “When you feel like it, I hope you will come out and visit us again, and of course we will come over to see you too.”

Before I left England, Dad gave me Mum's engagement ring and also that of her mother. He told me it was her wish that I have them, and pass them on so they were kept in the family. Since I could not have children, it seemed the logical thing would be to pass them on to Marie's children. I really hoped she would have a little girl this time as I knew that was what she really wanted. My wish came true when some months later, she rang me very excitedly from her hospital bed to tell me that Evelyn Lesley Morton had been born two days before, at a very healthy seven pounds. I almost cried, when she told me her baby's names; Evelyn after her mother, and Lesley after me. Another christening mug was duly dispatched and there was even more reason to make another trip to England when it was convenient.