‘So what is it you want from me?’ he asked.
‘I’m happy. For the first time in my life I am truly happy,’ I explained as the nerves I had been trying to ignore turned my stomach in knots. ‘What I want is for it to last.’
‘You want me to stop time?’ the shopkeeper asked. There was a note of sympathy in his voice, which told me what I already knew. Even my kindly shopkeeper had his limitations. ‘You know I can’t do that, Emma. Change will bring new challenges and you will adapt, you always do, but I’m afraid happiness is fleeting, as is life in the scheme of things. Enjoy it while you can.’
I opened my eyes and looked down at the sleeping baby in my arms, taking in every tiny detail from the curve of her cupid-bow lips to the smell of her hair, which was dark and downy. I felt Ben kiss my neck as he told me he loved me and it sent a shiver down my spine, but it didn’t stop the tear that was sliding slowly down my cheek. It would never get any better than this, I told myself.
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ Ben asked as we drove through the gates and away from the hospital.
‘I’m fine,’ Emma assured him with an encouraging smile. ‘At least that’s one down, only another twenty-nine to go.’ Emma had her schedule all laid out: radiotherapy five days a week for the next six weeks and she was already counting down.
‘I was thinking, maybe at the weekend we could do a bit more research, if you’re up to it?’ Ben was trying to sound upbeat but it was forced.
Emma shook her head. Although the side effects from her treatment would take days if not weeks to build up, she was already feeling fragile, if only mentally. ‘I’m not sure there’s anything to research at the moment.’
‘OK, maybe not immediately but once we’ve had the kids and they’ve grown up, we could resurrect your wanderlust,’ Ben said with an almost desperate persistence.
‘I’m in no rush,’ Emma told him, trying to disguise the annoyance in her voice. She was in no mood to consider skipping through the precious years of her daughter’s life. Slowly and reverently, she raised her hand to her cheek as she tried to recapture the moment that Olivia had touched it.
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’
Emma nodded. ‘But things are going to change whether we want them to or not. You’re going to wake up one morning and you won’t see me, you’ll see a cancer patient.’
Ben wasn’t fast enough to hide the look of pain on his face. ‘I will always look at you and see my Emma.’
‘The chemo I’m on at the moment is only low dose so if I’m lucky I won’t lose all my hair just yet, maybe only a bald patch here and there where the radiotherapy has zapped me,’ Emma added quickly. She had led the conversation in a direction that she wished she hadn’t. She was dragging Ben into the despair she herself had slipped into.
Ben was silent, staring intently at the road ahead. ‘Is that what counts as lucky these days?’ he asked.
Emma reached out and rubbed his back as he continued to keep his eyes front, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. ‘I thought you were the one supposed to be keeping my spirits up?’ she said lightly but her words tore at Ben’s heart. He swerved into a lay-by and brought the car to an abrupt halt. He was still looking straight ahead.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his breath becoming ragged, painful gasps.
Fear turned Emma’s blood cold and the nausea she thought she had evaded following her first dose of radiotherapy hit her so hard she put one hand on the door handle in case she needed to throw up. This was where her happiness ended; this was where Ben would turn his back on her just like her Dad. She raised her other hand towards her mouth and felt it tremble over her lips.
When Ben turned towards her, the pain in his eyes was replaced by a look of horror as he read her mind. ‘No, no,’ he said, taking her hand and holding it tightly. ‘You think I’m about to dump you? Jesus, Emma, I’m sorry, that couldn’t be further from my mind.’
‘Then what?’ Emma stumbled on. ‘What made you react like that? Are you sure you’re ready for this, Ben, because it’s going to get worse, so much worse.’
Ben was shaking his head. ‘I’m just so damned angry,’ he said. ‘Angry that I can’t help you through this, that I wasn’t allowed in that room to hold your hand while they microwaved your brain. But most of all, I’m angry with myself because you go through all of that and you go through it on your own and you’re the one comforting me. How can that be? I feel utterly useless.’ His voice was growing in intensity but he reined in his anger and even managed a smile before he continued. ‘And don’t you dare say something nice to make me feel better, Emma. Don’t you dare.’
‘You’re completely useless,’ Emma agreed, with a fixed smile of her own.
Ben edged closer to her. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
They leaned towards each other until they were nose to nose with their foreheads touching but they didn’t kiss. They kept staring into each other’s eyes and the connection between them felt unbreakable. If it hadn’t been for the growing ache in Emma’s back, she would have been happy to stay there for hours. ‘If you want to make yourself useful, you could fulfil your duties as chauffeur and take me home.’
‘At last, something I can do,’ Ben said.
Emma watched as he pulled himself together and if the first-day nerves had not been completely dispelled then they had at least been brought under control for the moment. She felt ready to pick up her story again.
‘There is something else you can help with,’ she said. ‘We need to decide on a name for our new baby.’
‘You’ve had the baby?’ he gasped. ‘That’s why you’ve been so quiet? You were busy giving birth at the weekend and you didn’t tell me? What did we have?’
Emma looked out of the car window as they sped down the motorway, watching the world passing by in a blur, and she allowed herself to disconnect from it. ‘We have a gorgeous baby girl, seven pounds, nine ounces,’ she said. ‘She has beautiful dark hair and brown eyes, just like her daddy.’
The discussion about their baby’s name was animated and kept Emma distracted and both of them entertained for the rest of the journey but they were no nearer reaching agreement when they arrived home. She managed to convince Ben to go to work, claiming it would be good for her to have the peace and quiet. Reluctantly, Ben agreed.
Left on her own, Emma didn’t have the strength to fight the emptiness that settled around her. She felt drained and didn’t know if she would have the energy to write but she retreated to her bedroom anyway. When she picked up the pink rose that Ben had left on her pillow, she had already stopped trying to be brave.
My daughter was simply beautiful although her name had caused quite a bit of debate between Ben and me.
‘I was thinking of something that represented spring,’ I had told him.
Ben looked around us for inspiration. We were sitting in the garden. It was alive with colour, the summer flowers stretching their vibrant petals wide, ready to embrace the sunshine. Our baby slept soundly in my arms. ‘Spring?’
‘What about Blossom?’ I ventured. ‘Or Bluebell?’ I lifted our sleeping daughter’s hand with my finger and instinctively she grabbed it tightly. I leaned forward and kissed her tiny fingers, breathing in the baby smell as I did. I brought her hand to my cheek and my skin tingled from the touch.
Ben was oblivious to the moment I had just shared with my daughter, he was too busy laughing. ‘She’s not a cow,’ he cried, tears rolling down his face.
But spring was my favourite time of the year, I had explained. It represented rebirth, new life, and I was determined to find a name that suited my purposes as well as one that suited my daughter.
Ben reached up and plucked a flower from the trellis that arched above us. It was only when he handed me the beautiful rosebud, its delicate pink petals as soft as our daughter’s cheeks, that I gav
e in. I wrapped my arms a little tighter around our beautiful Rose.
Emma’s fifth radiotherapy session was identical to the first and, at her insistence, life was carrying on as normal and she did her best to hide her growing sense of isolation, retreating as always to the sanctuary of her bedroom to absorb herself in another life. She had become protective of her story to the extent that she was being evasive whenever Ben tried to involve himself. She wanted to savour the time she had with her baby with no distractions. She wasn’t ready to rush through her daughter’s childhood only for her to fly the nest and leave Emma’s arms empty once again.
Emma stroked her fingers across the shiny black surface of the keyboard, each key smooth but cold and inflexible. Something caught at the back of her throat, a mixture of anger and sadness. Her baby was not made of flesh and blood and its touch was unforgiving.
Emma gave up the pretence of writing and headed for the kitchen for a drink, dismissing the row of healthy juices for a warming and hopefully invigorating cup of coffee. She made it strong but before she could take her first sip, the intercom buzzed. Emma wasn’t expecting anyone, both her mum and Ben were at work and, besides, they had their own keys. She considered whether it might be Ally or Gina, and indeed it was someone from the office who had taken time out to pay her a visit.
‘Jennifer, this is a nice surprise,’ Emma said, her smile forced.
‘Don’t lie. I know you’d be more than happy to see the back of Bannister’s Kitchens and Bathrooms.’
‘Given a choice, I’d be more than happy to still be there,’ Emma reminded her.
‘I know, it was a stupid comment,’ Jennifer conceded. ‘What I meant was, I think you were always intended for bigger and better things.’
The last comment hung in the air, neither woman expecting or needing to delve further into a postmortem of Emma’s career. ‘Make yourself at home,’ Emma said, finally remembering her manners. ‘Would you like a coffee? I’ve just made one.’
‘Wow, that’s strong,’ Jennifer said as she took the first sip from the cup Emma handed her.
‘Sorry, my sense of taste is failing by the day and I’m in the habit of making everything really strong.’
A look of sympathy passed over Jennifer’s eyes, which was the last thing Emma wanted to see. ‘Is that because of the chemo?’
‘Yeah, probably,’ Emma said with a shrug, not wanting to discuss the side effects of her treatment with Jennifer. In fact, she didn’t want to talk about her cancer at all. ‘So enough about me, what are you after?’
Jennifer didn’t baulk at the accusation, she actually relaxed and smiled. ‘I suppose I’m after your forgiveness. I’m here to apologize.’
‘Apologize for what?’
‘I knew from Dad how good you were at your job so when I started, I had this image of you in my mind as an ambitious career woman.’
‘I am,’ Emma told her proudly.
Jennifer laughed and bravely took another sip of coffee. ‘I was later led to believe that you had a ruthless streak, that you had no qualms about undermining others to make yourself look good, staking a claim on other people’s work, that kind of thing.’
‘Alex,’ guessed Emma, to which Jennifer simply nodded. ‘So why do I get the feeling that you don’t think that any more?’
‘Because now I know for myself that he’s a complete moron,’ Jennifer replied. ‘We could all see that Alex had plenty of good ideas, the ones he said you had written up for him, so it was hard to understand why he still couldn’t put a campaign together. I had my suspicions but it was only when you gave me all of your other files that I had the ammunition to convince Dad that we really did need to bring in the consultants. And it seemed wrong that he thought Alex was the driving creative force when it was you.’
‘I wasn’t sure what you would do …’ Emma started but stopped herself. She was remembering her last visit to the office and the bouquet of flowers.
‘You thought we were going out together?’ Jennifer smiled. ‘How could I possibly respect someone who treated you the way he did?’
‘Your dad is still employing him, though, he’s still Marketing Director,’ Emma said, shaking her head in frustration.
There was a pause as Jennifer shifted uneasily. ‘I know you can keep a confidence so I’ll tell you. You know Alex’s father is an old friend of my dad’s but what you won’t know is that, with a little creative accounting, he’s been covering his son’s wages.’
‘Ah, it all makes sense now. That would be the regular orders going through the books for nonexistent work.’
‘I suppose on the face of it, my dad thought it was a win-win situation. He was getting free labour and his friend kept his wayward son in gainful employment. But he didn’t factor in what a liability Alex could be.’
‘You mean now he has to pay for a marketing consultant?’ Emma asked, and Jennifer nodded.
Emma suddenly felt tired and full of regrets. To shake off the mood, she asked, ‘So what happens now?’
‘If I have my way, Alex will get his comeuppance. Leave it to me,’ Jennifer said sagely.
‘For all his faults, though, I have to admit that I almost regret passing on those files to you. I was hurt and I was angry but I’m not sure I want to be responsible for Alex losing his job.’
‘You’re not. Alex’s incompetence will be responsible for him losing his job. Don’t you dare feel guilty, Emma,’ Jennifer told her.
Emma looked at Jennifer with new eyes. She wasn’t the wild child she had first met, nor did she seem to be trying to be Emma’s clone any more. She had her own sense of individuality, which actually made her more like Emma than either of them would ever admit. ‘Then I accept your apology.’
There was no more to say on the matter but Jennifer was reluctant to leave and Emma doubted it had anything to do with the half-finished cup of coffee. ‘Are you scared?’ Jennifer asked without warning.
The swift change of subject left Emma with no time to prepare a smart or evasive answer. ‘About dying? Yes,’ she said softly. ‘Yes, I’m terrified.’
Jennifer was looking straight at her. A gentle smile curved her lips but it wasn’t in any way mocking nor did it feel inappropriate. ‘I know this is where I’m supposed to say how brave you are and how inspirational you’ve been, to which you’ll reply that you’re not, that you’re doing what anyone else would do under the same circumstances,’ she said.
‘So you don’t think I’m brave then?’ asked Emma, returning Jennifer’s smile.
‘Of course I do. But I know from experience that’s how it usually goes. It’s what happened with Mum. We said all the things we were supposed to say and she said what we wanted to hear. Emma, I’m not family and you and I both know we could hardly call ourselves friends. You don’t have to walk on eggshells with my emotions. If you need to tell at least one person how it is without holding back, then now’s your chance.’
Emma’s heart skipped a beat as she considered baring her soul. Jennifer was by no means the first person to make such an offer, there were a whole host of nurses, counsellors and end-of-life specialists who would be there for her, if only she would call, which she had stubbornly refused to do. What Jennifer was offering, however, was something unique. She knew enough of Emma’s life to know the depth of her pain. ‘OK,’ Emma said tentatively. ‘You want to know how it feels?’
Jennifer didn’t look convinced when she nodded but at least she didn’t put her hands over her ears as Emma waded into the emotions she had kept in check for a very long time.
‘I’m scared, yes, but I’m also angry. Very angry,’ she began. ‘I was actually angry with you for taking my place at work and with Alex of course but that’s only the tip of the iceberg. I’m angry with everyone and everything, angry when I hear all the petty complaints and trivialities. If it isn’t life or death then it doesn’t matter. So your anti-wrinkle cream doesn’t quite make you look ten years younger? Be grateful you’re getting old, it’s a privile
ge some of us don’t get. So they didn’t have your size shoe in the sale? Get over it!’ Emma spat the words out and her chest was heaving.
‘They were Jimmy Choo’s,’ remarked Jennifer, if only to make Emma laugh and take a deep breath, which Emma obliged.
‘There’s something else too,’ Emma said at last. ‘I feel so lonely, Jen. No-one can climb into my head with me. No-one can feel what it’s like in that treatment room when you have this ray gun pointed at your head. No-one sees the world through my eyes; they don’t see that blind spot in the corner of my vision where I imagine my tumour stalking me. They can’t walk in my shoes, Jimmy Choo’s or no Jimmy Choo’s. No-one can give me a break from this ordeal, not for a day, not even for one miserable hour, even if they wanted to and I know they do. This thing in my head is there all of the time. It goes where I go, listening to my thoughts, messing with mind, messing with me.’
Jennifer moved closer as Emma ranted on. By the time she fell silent, her tirade finally over, Jennifer was sitting next to her. ‘I want so much to tell you you’re not alone but I know that would just be stupid,’ she said, putting her arm gently around Emma’s shoulders, which were still heaving.
‘And you’re not stupid,’ Emma said, her voice now a mere rasp. She managed a tremulous smile. ‘Thank you for not being a friend, Jennifer.’
I ran out of the newsagent’s at full speed, barely stopping to check for traffic as I crossed the road and scampered up the hill towards the church. I could see Ben lying prone on the grass, camera in his hand as he tried to follow Rose with his lens. She was toddling further uphill, towards the virgin rays of sunlight creeping over the horizon and I practically leapt over Ben to rush after her.
‘Where’s my little sunshine?’ I called and she squealed in excitement as she tried to outrun me. I swept her up in my arms and twirled her in the air before letting us both fall to the ground in a fit of giggles.
‘Is that the remnants of a magazine in your hand?’ Ben asked.
I had to put my hand over my eyes to shield them from the rising sun. Ben was silhouetted against the pink-and-lavender sky. ‘Yes,’ I said with a childish giggle.
Another Way to Fall Page 24