‘Did you bring my jacket?’ Emma asked, thinking about the rain that was still coming down hard.
‘Oh, no. Sorry, Em, I didn’t think. Here, take mine.’
Louise had already begun to take off her coat but Emma stopped her in her tracks with a warning glare. She was still the older sister, which gave her an air of authority that she would cling onto until the bitter end. Louise raised an eyebrow in defiance but then shrugged her coat back on and as she did so, her eyes were drawn to something or someone behind Emma. She began to suppress a smile.
When Emma turned around, Peter was standing behind her. He had collected Emma’s medication, a cocktail of anti-seizure drugs, steroids and painkillers that would hopefully keep the tumour and its symptoms at bay in the weeks running up to her treatment. They were piled up high on the seat of a wheelchair. ‘That thing had better not be for me,’ she growled.
Peter was about to answer but Louise cut him short. ‘Don’t even try. You won’t get her to use it.’
Peter and Emma locked eyes. ‘OK, I give in,’ he said, having stood his ground for only a fraction of a second.
‘I tell you what,’ offered Emma. ‘We can use the wheelchair to carry all of my stuff to the car. In the meantime, you can have a quick break and collect it from the entrance in, say, ten minutes.’
‘If there was an element of compromise in there, then I think I missed it,’ he told her but, keen to take advantage of an impromptu break, didn’t argue.
With a few brief goodbyes to staff and patients alike, Emma and Louise meandered through the hospital towards the main exit. ‘You are alright about moving out of Mum’s, aren’t you?’ Emma asked. They had already had the same discussion over the weekend but Emma suspected that her sister had barely taken anything in, the news that the cancer was back was still sinking in.
‘Of course I am and I have a long list of friends offering to put me up. I’ll be fine, honest,’ Louise told her.
‘If I’d known this was going to happen, I would never have convinced you to rent out the apartment above the bistro.’
‘And if I had known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have depended on you so much to get me back on my feet after Joe and I split up.’
The breakup of Louise’s relationship had been a double whammy because Joe was also her business partner. He had been the head chef whilst Louise provided the front-of-house service and the bistro had been going from strength to strength. Joe had walked out on her just over a year ago and it had been Emma who had convinced her to go it alone.
This had all happened around the time that Emma had been overlooked for the marketing job at Bannister’s and she had been keen to concentrate her efforts on the bistro, where she knew she would be appreciated. It also allowed her bruised ego time to heal. Louise had bought Joe out with a substantial investment from her mum and she had eventually found a new head chef. Emma’s involvement had begun to dwindle when she started going out with Alex but she was still called upon to firefight now and again. The cash-flow problems that had resulted in Louise renting out her flat only served to prove that she wasn’t quite ready to go it alone.
‘What I wouldn’t give for a crystal ball right now,’ mused Emma as the main exit doors came into view. ‘But don’t think for a minute I’m going to spend all my time at Mum’s with my feet up.’
Louise took her eyes from the wheelchair she was trying to manoeuvre and checked Emma’s expression. ‘You’re not thinking of going back to work are you?’
Emma looked sheepish, as if she was still considering the possibility. ‘I need more in my life than hospital appointments. I need a purpose, I always will,’ she said with a smile as she realized that her kindly shopkeeper would say the same thing.
‘But …’ began Louise as she narrowly averted ramming the wheelchair into the back of an old man who had been walking down the corridor at a more sedate pace.
‘Don’t worry, even I think it would be a bit too much to go back to Bannister’s but there’s nothing to stop me interfering in your business.’
‘Yes, there is,’ Louise corrected.
Emma knew her mum would do her utmost to prevent her from exerting herself. ‘We’ll see,’ she said as they hit fresh air.
They came to a halt beneath a wide canopy, which gave some protection from the elements. The rain was thundering against the roof above their heads but it was music to Emma’s ears. The damp taste of freedom on her tongue felt fresh and revitalizing. She was about to ask Louise where she had parked when a car beeped its horn, making Emma jump in fright, as much by an alarming sense of déjà vu as by the sound itself.
When Emma’s heart stopped pounding, a strange silence descended. It wasn’t complete – she could still hear the wind whistling around her – but it was the absence of one particular noise that drew her attention. The rain had stopped abruptly and as Emma looked up, the sunshine breaking through the cloud was blinding. She squeezed her eyes shut but as she did so, she caught a glimpse of what could be snowflakes falling around her. She blinked against the sunlight to take a better look. It wasn’t snowflakes in front of her eyes but tiny pieces of white card. Emma knew that if she gathered them up and glued them back together, she would find herself in the possession of a dog-eared appointment card. A shiver shot down her spine and she grabbed at her jacket to wrap it tightly around her but she couldn’t make purchase with the material and she began to panic.
‘Emma, are you alright?’ Louise asked, putting her hand on one of Emma’s flailing arms.
Emma blinked and the noise of the rain crashed into her world. ‘My coat,’ she said, still trying to close it around her.
‘You’re not wearing a coat, Em.’
Emma felt the panic rise in her chest and then slowly ebb away. She could remember the sound of the horn beeping, the silence broken by the sudden roar of rain above her head but nothing in between. She slowly recognized the familiar signs of a partial seizure. The position of her tumour meant that she could expect unsettling effects such as déjà-vu episodes and even hallucinations. Her medication was intended to reduce swelling and control the symptoms but it would appear that her drug regime was still far from perfect.
‘Do we need to get you back inside?’ Louise asked.
‘Not a chance,’ Emma said as she looked towards the car that had stopped in front of the entrance. It was the van that Louise used for the bistro and there was a man in the driving seat. Ben was the bistro’s new head chef and he had been the one bright light in her sister’s darkest hour. Despite the sight of such a familiar and welcoming face, Emma still had to swallow the bitter taste of disappointment. She was surprised with herself for even entertaining the idea that it might have been Alex.
With no recollection of her hallucination, she was even more surprised when she scanned the ground around her, in search of the remnants of an appointment card that existed only in her imagination.
Meg had been working hard. With the help of Ally and Gina, she had already transferred all of Emma’s belongings from the house she’d shared with them to the apartment. The whole process had been exhausting and Meg looked nervous as she opened the door to her daughter.
‘Let me help you with those,’ she said, wrestling a large carrier bag crammed with medical supplies from Emma’s grasp. Emma felt the first tug of frustration pull at her mood but she put on a brave smile.
‘Did everything go alright? Did you see Mr Spelling? Is there any news?’ continued Meg.
The questions came out like bullets and Emma expertly deflected each one. ‘Yes, yes and no,’ she said.
‘What about when we were outside the hospital?’ Louise interrupted.
‘Why? What happened?’
Emma gave Louise a warning look before answering. ‘Nothing. Louise forgot my coat, that’s all. Now, are we going to stand here all day? Poor Ben’s arms will be two inches longer if he stands holding my bag any longer.’
‘Sorry, of course you can, come in. Welcome
home, sweetheart,’ Meg said, her words choked with emotion.
They all squeezed into the entrance hall. Doors to the left and right led off to the two bedrooms and the bathroom and the door immediately in front of them gave access to the open-plan living area. Emma suspected that the apartment wasn’t quite as claustrophobic as it seemed in her current state of mind but the place brought back painful memories she had hoped to have put behind her. Meg opened the door to what was to be Emma’s bedroom and Ben put her holdall onto the double bed, the floor space having already been taken up with a mass of bags and boxes.
‘I haven’t put your things away yet,’ Meg explained. ‘I thought you might want to decide where everything should go.’
‘Or decide what needs to be kept and what doesn’t,’ Emma said, swallowing another bitter pill of disappointment. She had been living in a large Victorian terrace for the last few years and space had never been an issue.
Emma turned away and headed for the living area, which had a compact kitchen with a small dining area to the left and the living room to the right. The soft lime-green walls gave the room a modern twist and the creams and purples of the soft furnishings added light and shade but the colours were lost on Emma. Her world had turned as dark as her mood and she ignored the balloons and WELCOME banners, her eyes drawn instead to the wide patio window that led onto a balcony and the panoramic view over the River Mersey. In the distance, she could just make out the silhouettes of brooding hills, the most distant of which marked the Welsh border. Their peaks were smeared by dark, heavy clouds as they scraped against the sky.
‘Am I interrupting?’
It was perhaps the one voice that could draw Emma back into the apartment. ‘Alex! You came!’ she cried.
‘I said I would,’ he said reproachfully as he proferred a bouquet of blood-red roses, which were crushed as Emma rushed into his arms. As she buried her head in his shoulder, she breathed him in. She could smell aftershave and soap overlaid with an unmistakeable mustiness. Bannister’s offices adjoined the workshop and Emma was surprised by the sudden rush of longing for the place.
Meg and Louise busied themselves in the kitchen whilst Ben stepped into the shadows. There was an air of judgement in their collective silence.
‘We’d better head back to the bistro,’ Louise said at last, her tone brusque to match the speed at which she headed back towards the door that she had walked through only moments earlier.
‘You’re the boss,’ added Ben, but he was still looking at Emma. ‘If there’s anything you need, Emma, you know where I am.’
‘Thanks, Ben,’ Emma said, lifting her head over Alex’s shoulder.
‘Any cravings for my Moroccan chicken or chilli beef, you only have to pick up the phone. Day or night.’
Emma held his gaze. She was used to offers of help being thrown at her, platitudes that would never be followed through, but Ben’s offer was direct, definitive and she didn’t doubt for a minute that he would be there if she needed him.
‘Come on,’ Louise told him, pulling at his sleeve. ‘Before she gets any ideas about us starting up a takeaway business.’
‘I’ll see you out,’ Meg offered.
‘And remember to shut the door after you this time,’ mumbled Louise as they disappeared.
‘Actually, I can’t stay long either,’ Alex said as he unravelled himself from Emma’s arms and dropped the crushed bouquet onto a nearby table. ‘I just wanted to let you know that I’ve really been missing you.’
‘I’ve missed you too,’ Emma replied, hoping it wasn’t the cold reception from her family that had made him eager to leave.
‘You look so well,’ Alex said. There was a note of disbelief in his voice. He already knew the painful detail of Mr Spelling’s prognosis and Emma wondered what he had expected to see. Alex hadn’t known her when she had first been diagnosed with cancer, he hadn’t seen her brought to her knees by the rigours of her treatment and, more importantly, he had never seen her as a cancer victim. But that was what he saw now.
Emma fought against the urge to raise her hand self-consciously to the dressing that still covered the back of her head. She had pulled her hair loosely across the wound in a ponytail and that, with the help of carefully applied makeup to cover the dark circles under her eyes, had meant to complete her disguise. ‘I’m not dead yet,’ she said, surprising herself by her directness.
If she had wanted to shock Alex, then the way he surreptitiously inched away from her embrace confirmed that she had succeeded.
‘Sorry,’ she added quickly.
‘You’re a fighter and you’re going to beat this. You have to.’
‘I’m not sure my doctor would agree with you there.’
‘Will you come back to work?’
‘No, not at the moment,’ Emma said, although she desperately wanted to say yes. She wasn’t ready to quit on every aspect of her life and as she had said, she wasn’t dead yet. But Emma also had to accept there were limitations and the seizure she had suffered earlier that day served as a timely reminder of that fact. She could push herself but not too hard, not until she was sure that her medication levels had reduced or completely eliminated some of the symptoms. She wasn’t ready to consider that she might never return to work but returning in the near future was an unrealistic target.
‘We could really do with your help right now,’ persisted Alex. ‘Mr Bannister has brought Jennifer in to help but she’s on a steep learning curve.’
‘Jennifer’s covering my job?’
Jennifer was Mr Bannister’s wayward daughter and although she was about the same age as Emma, she had never worked as far as Emma was aware and she had certainly never shown an interest in Daddy’s business before.
‘Needs must,’ Alex said. ‘She’s trying really hard but it’s not an easy job stepping into your shoes. I think she would really appreciate it if you dropped by some time, when you’re up to it.’
‘Maybe I will call into the office,’ Emma told him but she had no intention of helping Jennifer step into her shoes. She had thought that they were still hers and she would be telling Mr Bannister just that.
Alex smiled and kissed the top of her head, his lips making a satisfied smacking sound. ‘I knew I could count on you. We make a good team, you and me.’
‘Yes, we do,’ agreed Emma as she tried to match his smile. ‘Give me a few days and then I’ll come in. I promise.’
‘And if there’s anything you need, you know where I am,’ Alex said as he peeled himself from Emma’s arms.
There was only a brief kiss on the lips and then Alex was gone. Within moments, Emma felt the walls closing in around her so she busied herself in the kitchen. She was filling the kettle when Meg reappeared. She had been in Emma’s bedroom on the pretext of sorting out boxes, keeping a safe distance and, by all appearances, giving Emma some privacy.
‘How about a nice cup of coffee?’ Emma asked.
‘There’s decaf in the cupboard, or if you fancy something else then I’ve got pomegranate juice or there’s green tea. I tried to get that smoothie drink you used to have but they’re going to have to order it in for me.’ Meg had clearly resurrected her knowledge of cancer-fighting nutrients. Foods high in antioxidants or containing phytochemicals would be high on the list of essential groceries from now on.
‘I’m OK with normal coffee for now,’ Emma told her with a mixture of irritation and sadness as another door in her past life reopened. ‘You don’t have to nursemaid me.’
‘I know,’ Meg agreed and the familiar crackle of emotion accompanied her words. ‘I’m sorry.’
Emma’s heart bloomed with a new emotion. She had been so intent on controlling her own emotions from the moment she had stepped over the threshold that she only now appreciated how difficult this was for her mum too. The sense of loss and fear Emma had been battling with was nothing compared to what she felt now. Guilt.
‘I’m sorry too,’ Emma told her and, for the second time that day, she le
t herself be wrapped in someone’s arms. It was even more difficult to extract herself from her mum’s fierce embrace.
Tears were sniffed away and eyes averted as Emma continued making drinks and Meg started unpacking the bags of medication from the hospital.
‘Do you think it’s a good idea going back to the office so soon?’ Meg asked.
The pause lasted only a heartbeat. Emma extinguished the anger that flared before it was allowed to catch. Now was not the time for arguments and accusations of eavesdropping. ‘I only said I’d call in. I know I’m not ready to go back yet.’
‘Good,’ Meg said as she continued with her task. In no time at all, row upon row of medicine bottles were lined up in tight formation on the kitchen counter. A regiment of soldiers, ready for combat. Emma took her coffee and turned her back on them.
‘Do you mind if I take this to my room?’ Emma asked, surprised and saddened by how quickly she had adapted to a new life where she felt it necessary to ask permission to leave the room. ‘I could do with a bit of a rest.’
Alone in her bedroom, she cleared a space on her bed and lay down fully clothed, leaving her coffee to go cold, untouched. She felt completely drained but as she let herself drift off to sleep she was already constructing the world she planned to build with the power that Mr Spelling said she held at her fingertips.
Chapter 3
I hated flying. If there was an alternative form of transport, I would take it and if there wasn’t, I had more often than not changed my destination. It made going on holiday complicated but my latest adventure was business, not pleasure and there really wasn’t any other way of getting across the Atlantic Ocean, not if I wanted to make the nine o’clock meeting on Monday at Alsop and Clover’s New York office.
I looked out of the tiny window and peered across the broad wing of the plane. It shone with the full force of a sun that was no longer obstructed by the dense cloud cover that had looked so dark and impenetrable from the ground. The only clouds I could see now floated gently below us, white and fluffy and, with any luck, bouncy if the plane should suddenly drop altitude.
Another Way to Fall Page 4