'I have called this book 'Wrong Rooms' because Drew and I both saw places we never expected to see. The blinkers were ripped from our eyes. We entered a grave new world of waiting rooms, consulting rooms, hospital wards and theatres. The fact that our lives had only just changed for the better made the shock even worse . . .'
In 1992 Mark Sanderson met the love of his life. A Lonely Hearts ad in a listings magazine may not have promised much, but amid the replies from the lonely, the desperate or the just plain unsuitable one candidate stood out: a long and detailed letter from an Australian called Drew marked the beginning of a relationship Mark is still coming to terms with.
They met, and eventually clicked. For both it meant a move away from a kind of lifestyle that had threatened to become ingrained; when they moved in together in May 1993 it felt like the start of something special. It seemed, in fact, too good to be true, and in April 1994 reality duly intervened: Drew was diagnosed with skin cancer. He was told it would be a miracle if he were still alive in two years; three months later he was dead.
'Wrong Rooms' is their story - a love story, a ghost story, a confession and a lament. Although a beautifully written memoir of what it is like to deal with someone suffering from cancer, or indeed any terminal illness, the book also tackles issues of wider import.
Always moving, sometimes heartbreaking but ultimately redemptive, it is never less than searingly honest in the face of the face of the most rigorous emotional trauma. In the process it forces us to consider our own values and actions, and how higher price one will pay for love.
