Emma chose her next words carefully. She wasn’t as blasé about her mortality as she had been, not now she knew it was true. ‘I’ve already told you I’m not going to get better. How much worse could it possibly get?’ she said as kindly as she could.
Gina twisted a serviette nervously in her fingers. ‘I don’t know,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘Maybe that you were going to … hrmph, grmph.’ Her final words were muffled by the hand clamped over her mouth and only when Gina stopped trying to talk did Ally remove it.
‘I don’t think we wanted to hear that,’ growled Ally. ‘So, Emma, put us out of our misery before Gina has a chance to open her mouth again. Please.’
‘I want you to help me plan my wedding.’
There were gasps of shocked delight and Gina clapped her hands excitedly.
‘You’re getting married? To Ben?’ stammered Ally, who had already been struggling to keep up with Emma’s whirlwind romance.
‘Duh, what’s the point in planning her wedding if she isn’t getting married? And you call me thick,’ mocked Gina.
‘Actually,’ interrupted Emma, ‘it’s not exactly going to be a real wedding.’
‘Oh,’ Gina said, deflating like a balloon. ‘But I wanted to be your bridesmaid. I’d have a midnight-blue dress, simple and elegant. The flowers would be cream to match your ivory dress with lime greens and yellows, maybe a flash of burgundy too. Naturally, Louise would be your maid of honour and Ally could be another of the bridesmaids but we would have to do something about her hair.’
‘It’s got something to do with the story you’re writing, hasn’t it?’ Ally guessed once Gina had replaced her ramblings with a pout.
Emma nodded but it was the picture Gina had painted in her mind’s eye that made her smile. ‘It certainly has,’ she said, stroking her fingers reverently across the lid of her laptop, which was never far from reach.
When Gina looked more confused than ever, it was clear that Emma would have to bring them up to speed quickly so that they could help her with the next chapter. She ran through a brief synopsis, skirting as much as possible over the role that Alex had once played in her imaginary world. ‘And now I’m planning on marrying Ben in the bombed-out church on the first day of spring.’
Gina looked startled but then quite impressed. ‘St Luke’s? Now that would be an interesting venue but can you get married there?’ she asked. St Luke’s stood in a prime position in the centre of Liverpool and despite its perfectly preserved façade, the interior had been totally destroyed by a bomb during the Blitz. It was still being maintained but it was by no means a working church.
‘I’ve no idea, probably not, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not a real wedding,’ Emma reminded her.
‘So it’s an imaginary wedding, am I correct?’ Gina asked, suddenly sounding very officious as she pulled back her shoulders.
‘Correct,’ confirmed Emma, thankful that her friend was finally joining the dots.
‘Budget?’ asked Ally.
‘Unlimited of course,’ answered Gina with an alarming glint of excitement in her eyes.
Emma grimaced as she imagined where Gina’s thoughts had turned and a view of fairytale carriages and white doves came to mind. ‘It needs to be realistic,’ she warned before leaning over to retrieve a pink envelope that had been pushed to the far end of the table, perched between a saltcellar and a bottle of olive oil. ‘But I do have this.’
She opened up the envelope and prised open the card without removing it to retrieve a single piece of paper. She held it between her thumb and index finger as if it were contaminated.
Ally pushed her glasses up as she took a closer look. ‘It’s a cheque,’ she said knowledgably.
‘You don’t need to be an accountant to work that out. How much?’ demanded Gina, nudging Ally out of the way so she could read it. ‘Wow.’
‘It was supposed to be his contribution for my trip to Boston.’
‘It seems a lot of money to waste on an imaginary wedding. Couldn’t I tempt you to go on a real shopping trip?’ Gina said.
Emma shrugged as she returned the contents to the envelope and tossed it to one side. ‘I don’t want his money. Now, back to this wedding. Let’s imagine shall we that my wonderful father has stumped up the cash. How are we going to spend it, ladies?’
It was late afternoon and the lunchtime mayhem hadn’t eased; in fact, it was getting busier. Steven was being extra attentive despite the demands on his time and arrived at Emma’s booth with yet another cup of coffee.
‘Don’t worry, it’s decaf this time.’
‘Do you think you’ll need this table soon?’ Emma asked, almost hoping he would tell her to go home. She was starting to feel tired and her head throbbed, punishment for starting to use her computer again but she couldn’t help herself, there was still so much more of her life to explore and she wanted to write as much as she could before her treatment began.
Steven tutted. ‘It’s your table for as long as you need it.’
Emma’s guilt couldn’t be eased as she took another look around the restaurant. Louise was leading a couple to the last vacant table. They were both elegantly dressed and the gentleman insisted on helping his lady friend with her coat before pulling out her chair.
‘Is that Iris?’ Emma asked, not trusting her own eyesight.
‘It’s a first date,’ whispered Steven. ‘That’s why Jean’s offered to work another shift so she can make sure the food’s perfect.’
‘And have a sneaky peak at what’s going on while she’s at it,’ guessed Emma.
They watched as Louise settled her customers and then rushed over with an excited glint in her eye.
‘Steven, could you take their drinks order for me?’
He winked at Emma. ‘I’ll be back with an update.’
‘So what do you think?’ Louise asked.
‘I can’t really tell from here,’ replied Emma, straining to get a good look at Iris’s beau.
‘Not him,’ she said. ‘The bistro. It’s full!’
With the exception of Christmas Day, it was the first time that Emma had seen the restaurant so busy for a very long time. ‘You’ve done well,’ Emma agreed.
‘We’ve done well,’ Louise corrected. ‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’
‘I gave you a few ideas, that’s all.’
‘And I’ve had a few ideas of my own, things like putting in WiFi but I’d like you to take a look if you have time?’ Louise said and without waiting for a reply, she sat down and took out her order pad. She had been making notes and from the different coloured inks, it was clear that she had been building up ideas for some time. ‘Right,’ she said.
Emma reached over and closed the notepad before Louise could continue. ‘It’s about time you had a little more faith in yourself. Follow your instincts,’ she said. ‘I organized Christmas Day but everything you’ve done since then has been your doing. The new menu; Iris and Jean’s specials; the discounts. It’s all working and I have to say the only new idea I had was about installing WiFi but you’ve already got that one covered. Louise, there really isn’t anything I could add that you aren’t already capable of, not now.’
Tears sprung in Louise’s eyes, she had waited a long time to receive her sister’s approval but she knew better than to say anything too sentimental. Emma would have shot her down in flames and she knew it. ‘Was that Dad’s card I saw you showing Gina and Ally?’ Louise asked instead.
‘Yes, but don’t worry, I’m not going to bank the cheque. He can have his money back.’
‘I’ve been in touch with him and he’s suggested meeting up with us.’
‘Not a chance,’ Emma said as an old anger glowed into life.
‘But you need to resolve this,’ began Louise.
‘No,’ Emma insisted, her tone harsh enough to raise curious glances from neighbouring customers. ‘It was bad enough seeing the email from him, and no, I still haven’t replied. He can wait and I’m too busy.�
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‘I didn’t give him your email address,’ Louise said when she saw the unspoken accusation in Emma’s eyes. ‘I think he must have found it online. If he went to all of that trouble …’ Louise said, determined to push the issue.
‘That hardly counts as putting himself out and the answer is still no,’ Emma insisted, bringing the argument to a swift close.
Louise pursed her lips and held her tongue but Emma felt the need to reinforce her position. ‘No,’ she said again, sending Louise scuttling off to look after her more affable customers.
No sooner had she left than Ben appeared out of the kitchen looking hot and almost as exhausted as Emma felt. He was the reason she had been prepared to sit in the booth all afternoon. Even though he was working, it had been enough to know that he was near and that she would be there waiting for him when he finished work.
‘Do I get to keep you this time?’ she asked hopefully as Ben sat down with a heavy sigh.
‘You certainly do.’ They both looked up as Steven magically appeared with another coffee, this one for Ben.
‘I was hoping to have you all to myself?’ Emma suggested as Steven made no sign of moving.
It was Steven’s turn to sigh. ‘I just thought that if you were about to show Ben what you’ve been writing, that I could take a look too. It would help if I knew a little bit more about your wedding plans,’ he said hopefully.
‘Really?’ Emma said.
Steven was a new admission to her circle of trust and whilst Emma had been working with her friends on the details of the wedding, Ben had been tasked with writing the wedding speeches. It had been a burden he was more than willing to share. The best man should write his own speech he had argued.
‘It would help me get into the zone if I could picture all of those beautiful bridesmaids,’ Steven said.
Emma made a point of pushing her laptop a little further out of his reach. ‘You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.’
‘I get the message,’ he said, moving off at last.
‘So can I see?’ Ben asked but as he reached out for the computer, Emma slapped his hand.
‘Not a chance,’ she said. ‘It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding and we need all the luck we can get.’
‘No, we don’t,’ Ben told her and the confidence in his voice left little room for doubt. ‘I’m going to make sure you get everything your heart desires.’
Emma was about to tell him that he couldn’t, that her dreams would never come true but she looked into his eyes and knew as long as she had his love, it would be enough to create their dreams on paper. ‘OK,’ she said, pulling at one of the many threads of the story she had yet to weave. ‘What about the honeymoon? Where do you think we should go?’
Ben didn’t even pause for breath. ‘Hawaii.’
Emma wrinkled her nose as if to dismiss the idea. ‘More opportunities for you to wear that gaudy shirt?’
‘You started the trend,’ Ben reminded her. ‘But it’s not only the fashion that we’d have to look forward to. Think of the golden beaches and the palm trees where we can lounge in hammocks, sipping cocktails. And then when we get itchy feet, there are plenty of exotic islands to explore.’
‘Tell me more,’ Emma replied as she started to warm to his tropical paradise.
‘It’s not only a new place to visit, it represents our relationship.’
‘It does?’
Ben reached out and took Emma’s hands in his before raising them to his lips. He didn’t kiss them but she felt the warmth of his breath on her fingers and it made her shudder with delight. ‘I want to show you the smouldering volcanoes where our passion can start to rise.’
Emma couldn’t help herself. She laughed. ‘I’m starting to think I need to keep my computer under lock and key or you’ll be adding even more chapters while my back’s turned.’
Ben began to laugh too but then he caught a look in Emma’s eyes. It was a sense of grief she had been doing her best to hide. ‘I don’t want to miss a moment with you, Emma,’ he said. ‘I love you.’ His words blew gently across her fingers and reached out towards her heart.
‘And I love you,’ she answered, her smile erasing the sadness in her eyes. ‘And I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing it.’
She focused her mind on the happiness she felt and not the thoughts that haunted her. She concentrated on the here and now, knowing it would be far too fleeting and hoping she would be able to remember this moment in all its glorious detail. It was a moment worth preserving.
Emma had weaned herself off the more powerful painkillers to keep her thoughts clear but she was once again taking steroids and the inevitable restlessness had returned. Despite yet another long day at the bistro, Emma found herself wide awake long past midnight but it wasn’t only her medication keeping sleep at bay. Emma was wrestling with night terrors of her own making. She was plagued with dark thoughts that couldn’t be ignored in the pitiless depths of a lonely night as easily as they could in the hustle and bustle of the Traveller’s Rest.
She was lying on her back with her eyes wide open, fighting an irrepressible conviction that if she closed them now she may never wake up. Her eyes strained against the darkness, producing beads of light that sparkled like a host of stars above her and she felt herself being pulled towards them as if she had found a window to the heavens. She could feel the gentle rush of air being pushed in and out of her lungs. For a moment, she held her breath and allowed the stillness to wrap around her like a shroud. She imagined herself lying in the sarcophagus she had seen at the museum. As if to reinforce the image, in the distance she could hear the persistent tapping of a deathwatch beetle, counting down towards her impending doom. She exhaled and pushed the thought away but the tapping continued.
The sound gave Emma an excuse to clamber out of bed and search out its source and as she padded across her bedroom, it became not just louder but identifiable. Emma rested her head on the door in disappointment and frustration. One of the battles she thought she had laid to rest had been resurrected.
As Emma crept down the hall, she could see the living room immersed in an unmistakeable soft glow that could only come from a computer screen. Meg was typing away and didn’t even notice that she had been caught out, not until Emma put her hand on her shoulder, making her mum jump with fright.
‘Should I ask?’ Emma asked solemnly.
‘Em, I didn’t hear you,’ Meg said, turning towards her daughter. Her face glowed in an ominous green light that gave her a ghostly appearance. By the heart-wrenching look she gave her daughter, Emma’s appearance was just as spectral. Meg turned back to the screen and closed the online form she had been completing.
‘Too late, I saw it,’ Emma told her flatly. ‘Which whacky doctor have you been trying to track down now?’
Meg didn’t reply straight away, choosing instead to trace her fingers across the keyboard as she searched for an answer. ‘I’ve been in touch with the Boston clinic, just to check,’ she began.
‘And?’ Emma asked as she tried to keep her anger in check. She was trying so hard to come to terms with her fate, to accept that she was dying. It may not be the path she had chosen for herself but at least she could plan the time she had left with a degree of certainty. She had thought her mum had accepted that too but it had been yet another false hope. Meg may have stopped working long hours and was spending more time with Emma, but, rather than help her on her final journey, she was planning to pull her away at the last minute towards another path, one that could only lead to another dead-end, literally.
‘They’ve officially taken you off the programme,’ Meg said, trying to control her own anger.
‘I’m glad. And if that was another application for another clinical trial, then delete it. I’m not going. I’m staying here.’
Meg swivelled her chair around to face Emma. ‘I still think we need to keep our options open. I haven’t bothered you with this stuff because I know you’re so wrapped up wi
th Ben at the moment but it doesn’t mean I have to stop looking.’
‘It has nothing to do with me being wrapped up with Ben. I don’t want to look because I know there isn’t any point.’
‘But I’ve just been reading …’ began Meg.
‘Stop! For God’s sake, Mum, stop!’ begged Emma, tears stinging her eyes. ‘I’ll do what’s necessary, I’ll undergo the radiotherapy and the chemo and any other treatments Mr Spelling is prepared to throw at me to give me more time but I’m staying here. I’ve accepted that I’m dying, why can’t you?’
‘Because I can’t!’ Meg yelled back in the faintest whisper. ‘Don’t make me give up, Emma. Please, I can’t do it!’
Emma didn’t know how to respond and even if she had found the words, she couldn’t physically speak. The two women stared at each other, both breathing rapidly in a desperate attempt to keep their tempers in check. Meg couldn’t hold Emma’s gaze so she turned her back on her daughter and began to purposefully close down her computer. The room was plunged into darkness and an eerie silence descended as the machinery was silenced. Neither Emma nor her mum moved.
‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ Emma said at last, reaching out blindly towards her.
Through the darkness, Meg found her daughter’s proffered hand and gripped it desperately in both of hers, lifting it towards her face, which was now wet with tears. ‘All I wanted from life was for both my daughters to be safe and happy. Nothing else. That’s all I wanted, that’s all I want.’
‘You can’t fix this, Mum. Please stop trying,’ begged Emma.
When Meg didn’t answer, Emma felt an urge to fill the silence and it was almost as if the darkness was trying to extract a confession. There were some secrets that Emma had kept from her mum for too long. ‘The book I’m writing, it’s about me,’ she said. ‘I know it’s going to be hard for you to take any comfort from that now but I hope one day you will. Mum, I’m going to live a very long and very amazing life. I am going to live happily ever after.’
There was a pause and Emma wondered if her mum was giving her one of her dismissive looks. ‘Is that enough? To write about it?’
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