Another Way to Fall

by Brooke, Amanda

  ‘The magazine?’

  ‘Yes.’ Another giggle.

  Ben flung himself onto the ground next to me and tickled Rose’s tummy before returning his attention to the magazine. As he opened it up, our daughter made a grab for the pages so Ben scrambled backwards to get out of her way. His body hit solid stone.

  ‘Sorry,’ he whispered to the tombstone he had bumped into.

  I raised an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t know you could talk to the dead.’

  ‘I’m talking to angels,’ he corrected. ‘And you are the most angelic of them all.’

  I kept one eye on Rose who had resumed her trek up the hill and went to join Ben. I said nothing and let him read the article.

  ‘I knew you could do it,’ he said. ‘And if this review is anything to go by, I’d say you’ve just published a bestseller.’

  ‘A bestselling author, that’s me, with an equally successful husband by her side.’

  ‘I would struggle to call myself successful. How many famous goats’ cheese empires do you know?’

  ‘Just the one,’ I said, pulling an envelope from my jeans pocket and handing it to him. ‘Your invitation to make a pitch to a national chain, no less.’

  ‘You got me in?’ he cried, tearing open the envelope.

  ‘And this is only the start of it. I’d say we need to start thinking about adding more lines, something that will appeal to a global market.’

  ‘Let’s not count our chickens,’ he said, only half listening as he read and then reread the letter.

  Rose was giggling in the distance as she did an about turn and started to toddle back down the hill towards us. ‘I don’t think it’s that difficult counting to two.’

  Ben looked up from the letter and eyed me suspiciously. I was still watching Rose and concentrating on hiding the smile that threatened to have me grinning from ear to ear and my cheeks ached with the effort. He reached over and turned my head so I was facing him. ‘Tell.’

  Beneath the shadow of a headstone, my smile erupted and I didn’t need to say a word. Ben knew and he kissed me.

  Two weeks into treatment and Emma was still managing the physical effects of it far better than the emotional ones. She had a long list of drugs to take, which helped reduce if not completely eliminate some of the side effects she had been expecting but strong pain killers had also been added to the list to combat the neck and back pain that was exacerbated as she lay still during her radiotherapy sessions. Her immunity was low and fatigue had started to set in but these alone were not enough to prevent Emma taking an active role in the real world, if only she had wanted to.

  Emma couldn’t be sure if it was her cancer treatment isolating her or if she was isolating herself. She didn’t really care and would have been content to spend all her time in her bedroom, in her own little world where even Ben, the real Ben who slept soundly next to her every night as she wrestled with sleep, could not follow.

  Fortunately for Emma, her family would not allow her to become a recluse and with some prolonged and forceful persuasion, she found herself back at her booth in the bistro one Saturday morning to join in what would be a rather special vigil.

  Derek Watkinson’s latest offerings were about to be published in the local paper and so far Steven’s insider knowledge had failed to reveal whether or not his review of the Traveller’s Rest would be favourable. As punishment for his failure to put her out of her misery, Louise had sent him out to the newsagent’s to await the paper delivery.

  Emma had made the mistake of bringing her laptop along with her, although so far she hadn’t been left in peace long enough to even think about writing. She was being shadowed by her mum and Louise while Ben was in the kitchens. He wasn’t supposed to be on duty but had wanted to keep himself busy. Iris and Jean were hovering in the background too, having volunteered to manage the morning’s service between them.

  Emma began to tap her fingers on the table impatiently. She didn’t want to be there, she wanted to be able to write so that she could be with Rose, so that she could feel the new baby growing inside her. Her fingertips tingled with anticipation. It was this sensation she concentrated on rather than the oppressive atmosphere that was making her feel hot.

  ‘Try the site again,’ Louise demanded.

  Emma sighed as she repeated the exercise she had carried out only two minutes earlier. She checked the newspaper’s Internet site to see if the review was available online yet. She tried to keep a blank expression as she read the review.

  ‘It’s there, isn’t it?’ Louise said when she noticed Emma’s body freeze. ‘Let me see.’

  Emma didn’t notice the laptop being pulled from her. She felt the warmth of the early morning sun as it rose above the tiny Welsh village of her dreams. She was running uphill, running after Rose and then picking her up and spinning her around. She could feel the comforting weight of her tiny body in her arms and as they fell to the ground the little girl was shaking with laughter. Rose found her feet, touched Emma’s cheek with a chubby hand, but then turned to run away. The shadow of a headstone crossed her face and the sunshine that had interrupted Emma’s world disappeared.

  ‘“The Traveller’s Rest offers something for everyone, from cutting-edge cuisine to home cooking your mum would be proud of,”’ Louise was reading out loud. She almost collapsed with excitement but not before she let out an ear-piercing screech. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she said, as Meg wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter, almost knocking the wind out of her.

  ‘Is it good news?’ Iris asked, rushing over at full speed despite the tray she had in her hands. Soup was slopping everywhere.

  ‘A four-star review,’ gasped Louise.

  ‘So my Cottage Pie was special, after all,’ Iris said with satisfaction.

  Louise looked duly admonished. ‘Yes! Well done, Iris, I don’t know what— ’

  A loud bang and a cold gust of wind interrupted her as Steven rushed through the door. He was panting heavily and waving the newspaper in the air but then he saw their faces and he was momentarily deflated. ‘You’ve already read it,’ he sighed, now grinning ruefully.

  ‘Four stars,’ Louise confirmed, her smile becoming smugger by the minute as the news settled in.

  ‘What am I missing?’ It was Ben’s turn to squeeze through the crowd, with Jean in tow. ‘Did I hear right? It’s good news?’ he asked, only to be met with a silent chorus of nodding heads.

  Suddenly everyone was talking at once, devouring every word of the review and congratulating themselves. Everyone except Emma. Her seizure had been relatively minor, lasting only a matter of seconds, but wherever her mind had taken her, she had brought back with her the sensation of holding her child in her arms. She felt numb to the excitement around her.

  ‘We’ll have to celebrate,’ Louise said. ‘Shall we have a party?’

  ‘Ooh, lovely,’ agreed Jean and Iris.

  ‘But when are we going to fit it in?’ Steven asked. ‘The bookings are about to go through the roof. We can’t turn business away.’

  As the conversation turned into a debate, Ben slipped closer to Emma and crouched down next to her. ‘Want to tell me what’s wrong?’ he whispered.

  Emma could feel his eyes scrutinizing her face but she was too afraid to look at him. ‘I’m fine,’ she mumbled but as she felt his hand touch her cheek and turn her head towards him, tears were burning her eyes.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, taking her hand and pulling her away from the table.

  ‘Emma? Is anything wrong?’ There was a note of alarm in her mum’s voice.

  ‘She’s fine,’ Ben said casually. ‘We just have our own catching up to do.’

  Ben led Emma through the kitchen and into the small corridor that led up to the apartment. They sat on the stairs.

  ‘So,’ he began, taking her hand and kissing it gently. ‘You were saying?’

  Emma couldn’t look at him; instead, she stared at the hand that was holding hers so tightly but which couldn’t quite
contain her tremors. ‘I’m sorry. I know I should be happy for Louise and I am,’ she began but her words held a conviction she didn’t quite believe. ‘I’ve been so determined to put everything right while I still can, whether that was at work, here at the bistro or even my relationship with Dad,’ she explained. ‘OK, in fairness, I was pushed into that one, but I still did it.’

  ‘Getting your house in order?’

  Emma nodded slowly and then bit her lip. She knew that what she was about to say would hurt but she had to say it. ‘I’m going to die, Ben. We both know that and it’s going to be hard for you all. We know that too.’ She waited a moment, making sure Ben was still willing to listen. ‘I wanted to soften the blow.’

  Ben cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes. If the tears were there, he hid them well. ‘I don’t think that’s possible but I understand why you’re doing it. What you haven’t told me yet is what’s wrong.’

  ‘Me,’ Emma said. Ben clearly didn’t follow so he squeezed her hand and waited. She took a deep breath. ‘I thought I could give me what I wanted, too: career, children. I thought it would be enough to write them into my life but it’s not.’

  ‘Look at me, Emma,’ Ben said. ‘Not everything is confined to the page.’

  Ben cupped her face in his hand and gently wiped away the first tear with his thumb. Little did he know, but the sensation of his hand on her cheek was the trigger for an emotional dam burst. ‘I know,’ she said, recalling the sensation that had remained after her latest seizure, of the touch of a little girl’s hand.

  Ben wrapped her in his arms as she began to sob. ‘I’m not sure you do know, Emma. I want you to let me back into your life, I’m feeling lost.’

  Emma’s emotions were sending shockwaves along every nerve in her body. She knew he was right. Her determination to shoulder the burden alone had fuelled her sense of isolation. Her writing had stopped being the joint effort it should be, she was keeping out the very person she wanted to share the rest of her life with.

  Emma looked up into his face. She took his hand and placed it on her cheek, her hand overlapping his. She attempted to smile but it quivered pitifully. ‘I sent you away,’ she agreed. ‘I shouldn’t have done that. I need you, Ben. There are things I can still experience. You showed me that once before. I’m going to need your help to see it again.’

  Chapter 15

  We weren’t perfect by any means. We had our disagreements and we liked to challenge each other. To my shame, it took me a while to recognize that in one particular respect, I had been pushing Ben so far out of his comfort zone that I risked trampling over his dreams.

  ‘You could have won that pitch,’ I told him, throwing my words at him like an accusation. I scrunched up the rejection letter, which had followed my latest bid to take Ben's business global, and was tempted to launch that at him too. It didn’t help that he was smiling at me. ‘It would have needed some investment but we could have taken on extra staff, maybe even someone to manage the business. Give you more free time.’

  Ben said nothing. He stepped closer to me, tentatively, the sunlight streaming through the window highlighting his features. He was as handsome as ever but now he had a sprinkling of grey at his temples. Middle age suited him and he deserved a business that equalled his distinction.

  ‘Time to concentrate on other things like your photography. Maybe go professional again. I had it all planned,’ I persisted.

  Still not saying a word, he took my hand and I dutifully followed as he led me through the house and out to the garden. He waited until we were both looking towards the apple tree before he spoke.

  ‘I could expand the business, take on more work to earn more money and spend all my time wondering how to stay one step ahead of the competition. I could even make enough to pay someone to run my dream for me. I could carve out a new career as a photographer, travel the world for that winning shot. I could fill my life with so much more,’ he said, not once looking at me, never taking his eyes from our children who were playing on the swing that hung from the tree.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said when I saw our life through Ben’s eyes. ‘Perhaps I have been losing sight of what was right in front of me.’

  We watched our children as they played, blissfully unaware of the love being showered upon them by their parents, parents who didn’t put them before their own dreams because they were part of those dreams.

  Looking back at my own childhood, it seemed wrong that the happy times that came to mind so readily were the times spent with my dad. Why should that be? I had to ask myself. After all, it was my mum who had stayed at home until Louise and I were both at school, and even when she returned to work, she seemed to manage her hours so that she was still there in the evenings and during school holidays. I couldn’t help wondering what memories my own children would choose to capture and keep. Ben and I were fortunate in that we were both self-employed and if there was a fight over who would pick the kids up from school, it was because we both wanted to do it and often we both did. Together we were the constant in their lives.

  ‘Come on,’ Ben said, pulling me towards the fun. ‘Let’s not stay on the sidelines.’

  Charlie spotted us first and rushed over to me and if I thought all disagreements had been settled for the day, I was about to be corrected.

  ‘It’s my turn to go on the swing,’ he said with a pout. He was four years old and I could see a tantrum threatening as if it were an oncoming storm.

  Rose and Charlie were like chalk and cheese, in much the same way as Louise and I were. Rose was the practical one who didn’t like taking risks, whilst Charlie was the wild child. When they fought, I became referee, trying to find a compromise that would keep them both happy.

  ‘You can play on the swing as soon as Rose has finished her turn,’ I promised.

  ‘But she’s been on it all day,’ he sulked.

  ‘You’ve only been in the garden five minutes. Why don’t we count how many times Rose swings? When we count to ten, then it can be your turn,’ I said, looking towards Rose for agreement but she was pretending not to hear.

  ‘One, two, seven, ten,’ counted Charlie as quick as a flash. ‘My turn!’

  When I couldn’t hold him back any longer, Rose gave up trying to ignore us. She may have complained constantly about her brother but she took as much pleasure from Charlie’s enjoyment as she did her own. She surrendered the swing without complaint.

  We watched as Charlie swung higher than Rose had ever dared and the blossom from the apple tree started to fall to the ground in a shower of petals.

  ‘I wish this could last forever,’ I said to Ben and I meant it. It was the high point of my entire life, everything I could ever want was there within my grasp.

  Beyond the perfection of the scene around me, I could hear the creaking of the branch as Charlie pushed himself back and forth. A doubt crept into my mind. A sense of fear shared by mothers the world over. I could barely comprehend what my own mum had gone through when I was ill and I imagined she never stopped listening out for that creaking branch.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to go global?’ Emma asked.

  ‘I’m sure,’ he said, still reading from the computer screen. When Ben had realized the new direction Emma was leading him towards in their story, he had told her in no uncertain terms that his ambitions would always lie closer to home, and she had been forced to rethink her plans.

  ‘I have the power,’ she persisted, wiggling her fingers for effect.

  ‘And I have a pushy wife,’ he told her, taking her hand and kissing each finger.

  They were at the hospital, waiting for Emma’s name to be called for what would be her fourteenth session of radiotherapy. She had to concede that the side effects were finally starting to get to her. The anti-nausea drugs were doing their best to stop the constant feeling of sickness escalating to full-blown vomiting but it was the pain in her back and neck that she feared most. It was most excruciating when she had to lie on the treatme
nt table, but each session lasted only five minutes and if she took enough painkillers beforehand then the drugs made it almost bearable. It was the fatigue that came with no miracle cure and it was becoming the one thing she found hardest to accept. The physical effort of writing was becoming far more of a chore than she would like. Even when she wasn’t fighting sleep, her mind was sluggish and words were beginning to slip out of her grasp. If it hadn’t been for Ben’s subtle editing when it was clear she had given up on a particular sentence, not to mention his encouragement and unstoppable enthusiasm, she doubted she would have written a word in the last few days.

  ‘I still think you could do something with your photography.’

  ‘Maybe when the kids have left home,’ he said, not dismissing the idea.

  ‘I wasn’t talking about in the story,’ Emma said, closing down the computer and handing it to Ben for safekeeping.

  ‘You do like to meddle, Mrs Knowles.’

  Emma smiled at the sound of her fictional name. It suited her. ‘I’m sorry; of course I was talking about the story and I promise I won’t do anything without discussing it with you first.’

  Ben laughed. ‘You don’t have to start walking on eggshells. It’s your story. I want to be involved but I don’t mind the odd surprise. Sometimes it can be good for the soul to face the unexpected.’

  ‘Emma Patterson,’ the nurse called.

  ‘Back to reality,’ Emma said as she stood up, unaware that it was Ben who was now being drawn back into their imaginary world as he watched her disappear from view.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,’ the shopkeeper said. He stood with his hands spread wide across the counter as if protecting his wares from unwelcome eyes.

  ‘Actually, I’m here on behalf of a mutual friend of ours,’ I told him, doing my best to hide my nerves. I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing and I was hoping the shopkeeper would see that my intentions were honourable. I needed his help.

  ‘And who would that be?’ he answered, not giving an inch.