12
The car park at the cancer clinic was nearly full as Esther and her mum drove in, even though it was only a quarter to ten. Esther sweated, despite the cool morning. Why was she nervous? She’d had buckets of prayer poured over her. If it was possible, she’d have drowned in prayer.
The décor was surprising. Bright murals of Australian wildflowers, and a hint of lavender instead of the usual antiseptic smells. Men, women, and even children were sitting in the central waiting area. Patients, pale and nervous, and their support people, mostly bored and fidgeting. Classical music played at a tasteful volume, neither so loud as to intrude nor so soft as to be inaudible. Was it meant to calm and distract people? If so, it failed. Esther was sure there was an invisible miasma of fear swirling
