Another Way to Fall (14 page)

‘I feel like such an idiot.’ Emma sighed, closing her eyes and reliving her foolishness over the last year.

‘You were,’ Ally agreed.

Emma laughed but when Ally didn’t share the joke she stopped. ‘Ally?’

Ally took a deep breath. There was a speech on its way and if Emma didn’t know better, she would say it was rehearsed. ‘I kept quiet, Emma, but I wish I hadn’t. I’m your oldest friend and I should have done something. Yes, you were an idiot but you’re no fool, whereas Alex is a fool. The Emma I used to know, the one I went to school with, would have seen through him.’

‘I don’t know why I didn’t see it myself. I just enjoyed working with him, or rather, I enjoyed doing the work itself, work he was meant to do. The fact that he didn’t lift a finger only made our relationship work better. There was nothing to disagree on. I suppose he thought he was manipulating me but I was a willing victim.’

‘The old Emma wouldn’t have done that,’ repeated Ally.

‘I’m not the old Emma though, am I? I’m the Emma who has been fighting cancer for nearly five years. If that doesn’t destroy a person’s confidence, I don’t know what would.’

‘Just promise me you won’t be an idiot again. Please.’

‘I promise,’ Emma told her. ‘It’s over now; I sent him packing. And if it puts your mind at rest, he was quickly despatched in the book I’m writing too.’

‘Hold on, Alex is in your book?’

‘It’s a book about my life or at least a different version of my life,’ Emma confessed. ‘Alex has to be in it, one way or another.’ She was starting to feel ready to share her secrets. Her first reaction to the diagnosis had been to put up barriers, as if that would protect others from the battles she was facing. She was feeling stronger now but she was also feeling lonely and was ready to let people into her life again. She enjoyed telling Ally about her adventures so far, if only to prove to her friend that she wasn’t a completely lost cause.

‘So, am I in it?’ Ally asked eagerly.

‘Why does everyone ask me that?’ Emma laughed. ‘No, I’m afraid not. I’ve put Ben in the story but that was under duress and I’m going to make sure he regrets it.’

‘Ben?’ Ally asked. There was an accusation in her tone and Emma knew what it meant.

‘No, Ally,’ Emma said firmly. ‘We have been seeing quite a bit of each other lately but it’s all business. He’s been helping me with some of the research for my story, that’s all,’ Emma explained.

‘But you do seem to get on so well together and I don’t think anyone would accuse him of being another Alex …’

Emma interrupted Ally mid flow, refusing to be cornered. ‘No. It’s not going to happen. It can’t. OK, he’s nothing like Alex but that doesn’t mean anything. I’m not looking for more disappointment.’ When Ally didn’t look convinced, Emma knew she would have to say more than she would even have admitted to herself. ‘Even if he could make me happy, Ally,’ she began softly, ‘it isn’t going to end well. The treatment abroad is still a long shot. I don’t want to add Ben to the list of potential casualties, if the treatment doesn’t work out. It wouldn’t be fair.’

Ally peered ahead of her with more concentration than she had given the road throughout the journey so far. Emma was afraid of saying any more; even the kindest words would have the tears spilling down her friend’s cheeks. ‘Here’s the turn off,’ she said, thankful that the hospital was now in sight.

‘Shall I drop you off at the entrance?’ Ally said as brightly as she could. ‘I can take my time then finding a parking space and we can meet up in the cafeteria when you’re finished.’

Emma checked the time and to her amazement they had arrived with a good five minutes to spare. ‘That sounds like a plan,’ she agreed, zipping up her coat and wrapping a scarf around her neck ready for a quick exit.

They were through the main gates and driving past myriad signs pointing this way and that when Ally started to get flustered. ‘Should I go that way?’ she asked, looking to the side instead of straight ahead, oblivious to yet another collision that was narrowly averted thanks to the quick action of a fellow driver who was angrily shaking a fist at her.

‘Anywhere it’s safe to stop,’ panted Emma, her hand hovering over the seatbelt button, ready to release it and jump out as soon as the car stopped.

‘Oh, my God, isn’t that Peter?’ asked Ally with panic rising in her voice. She leaned further over towards Emma for a better look.

‘Watch where you’re going!’ cried Emma, but her words were barely audible over the sickening crunch of tangled metal. Ally had driven into an exit sign.

The engine shuddered and died. Despite the plummeting temperature outside, Emma could feel the temperature rising. As she took a breath, the air felt warm and acrid and there was a lingering taste of ancient dust in her mouth. She felt the sweat trickle down her back.

‘Uh-oh,’ murmured Ally as she watched Peter approaching them, but Emma didn’t hear her.

The grey world had been transformed with the flash of an orange-and-blue Hawaiian shirt. Harsh yellow sunshine blazed all around her, obscuring her vision. She looked away, turning her attention to the interior of the car. There was a layer of dirt and dust covering every surface and she could smell stale sweat and something else, her own fear. She pushed open the car door and stepped out but her legs felt like jelly as she approached the front of the car. A road sign had been knocked over by the impact, that was all, but she knew there was something wrong; there was something or someone missing.

‘Emma!’ Peter called.

Emma turned towards him and the slap of the cold air as it replaced the cloying heat was enough to chase the sunshine back behind the leaden clouds. Ochre tones gave in to the grey.

‘Emma, do you know where you are?’ Peter asked in a serious voice as he reached her.

A flash of frustration zigzagged across Emma’s confused mind. Of course she knew where she was but it was where she had been that evaded her. She wanted to tell Peter to stop testing her. She didn’t need someone proving to her that her mind was malfunctioning. ‘I’m fine,’ she said firmly.

Ally gave an embarrassed cough to get their attention. She was also out of the car but hadn’t ventured towards the point of collision. ‘Is there much damage, do you think?’ she asked weakly. She had remained trapped in the car by her own humiliation so hadn’t noticed Emma’s unusual behaviour.

‘It’s only a small dent,’ Peter said, but he was still looking at Emma. ‘I don’t think you’ve done too much damage.’

At last, Ally approached the front of the car for a better look at the damage. The arrow on the exit sign was now pointing down to the pavement.

‘Ground, eat me up,’ Ally murmured.

‘There’s the way.’ Emma laughed, pointing to the broken sign. The laugh was forced but she let it ease her back into reality. She took a deep breath of frost-laden air to clear her lungs of the heat and the dust. ‘I’m sorry, Ally, but I really do have to get going.’

‘Where do you have to go? Do you want me to take you?’ offered Peter.

Emma shook her head. Ally, looking at Emma closely for the first time since the accident, was about to say something, but a glare from Emma assured her that she was her old self.

Emma returned her attention to Peter. ‘If you want to make yourself useful, why don’t you help Ally sort out her car.’

Not waiting for an answer, Emma turned away and to her relief, she found her jelly legs were strong enough to carry her, but only just.

Emma lay deathly still in the scanner as if she were in her coffin already. Her head was strapped firmly into place and she wore earplugs to muffle the noise as the machinery thumped, whirred and hammered around her. But it was the noise inside her head that preoccupied her. She could feel her pulse throbbing against her temples and she imagined it was the steady heartbeat of the monster lurking inside her head.

She tried to make sense of what was happening to her. The impact from the car crash was nothing compared to the impact of her latest seizure. She couldn’t remember any of the seizures in detail but each time she was left with a feeling of déjà vu, ghostly remnants of where her mind had taken her, bewildering hints of colours, tastes and smells. The connections she was making with her story were unmistakable.

She didn’t like the mind games her tumour was playing with her. As the MRI sliced through images of her brain, she wondered if there was a doctor alive who could save her. Emma closed her eyes. She fought against the growing fear creeping up her spine and retreated to the world where she was determined to retain control over her own fate no matter how much the monster tried to leach into reality.

Chapter 7

I ignored the heat bearing down on me from the uncompromising midday sun. My latest schedule was proving to be just as gruelling and even more demanding than the assignment in Cairo. The Egyptian exhibit in Boston had been a runaway success and I was in demand. My only problem was trying to fit everything in that I wanted to achieve.

My current assignment had brought me to Tanzania. If I was going to produce a campaign for luxury safari holidays, I had to sample the goods first, but there would be no time to relax. I hadn’t travelled across the world to take it easy, much to the dismay of the crew I had mustered together at first light to capture the rise of the sun over the snow-capped peaks of Kilimanjaro. Not for the first time.

‘We’ve been working for ten days without a break,’ Ben said. ‘We already have good shots. We don’t need to take and retake shots every day from dawn until dusk. Much as I love your determination, Emma, I have to agree with the rest of the crew.’

‘Agree what?’

‘Agree that if you don’t wrap it up now, then we’re going to the village elder over there to see if we can swap you for a couple of goats.’

I had allowed two weeks on location and Ben was right, we had more than enough material for the campaign but when our guide had suggested a detour to a local village rather than head straight back to our hotel, I had jumped at the chance and I was glad I had. I was enthralled by the Maasai village and their way of life. It was the women I had been most drawn to, watching them at work with bright-eyed babies wrapped tight against their bodies in colourful swathes of cloth. When we arrived, some had been returning from their daily trek to fetch water with younger children trailing behind, their arms full of kindling. I eavesdropped on the exchanges between mother and child and though I couldn’t understand a single word, the tones were familiar. Words of encouragement and love with the occasional scold to keep their children in check.

The scene took me back to my own childhood and a day out in Southport when I was about eight. We had spent a glorious day on the beach, which had seemed as vast as the Sahara desert and the sun just as hot. The tide was out and my dad had persuaded us to go in search of the sea, which had retreated out of view. I remembered holding his hand as we watched Louise running, and occasionally stumbling, ahead of us. When, after what seemed like forever, we failed to see even the faintest glimmer of silvery sea on the horizon and with Louise’s squeals of delight turning to complaint, we had given up and turned back. Instead of paddling in the sea we settled for wading in sludgy mud pools and collecting shells, which we took home and with Mum's help glued them onto picture frames.

Along with the odd good memory, inevitably it was the bad memories of my father that rose quickest to the surface, ones like the day he left home. I had been in my final year at university, home for a quick break to provide moral support for my mum who had told me what was about to happen. My dad was about to give up all pretence of being a caring husband and father and as he walked out the front door and out of his marriage, he turned to me and said, ‘Always remember I love you.’ In hindsight, what he really should have said was, ‘Remember I love you because I’m not going to be there for any more of your birthdays or Christmases, not to mention all of those important times in your life like the day you get told you have cancer.’

I released a deep sigh as Ben waited for my decision and there were another half a dozen expectant faces watching me. Taking my time, I stretched my spine, pulling my head back until I was staring into the raging sun. The scarf I wore to protect the back of my neck scratched against my sunburn. ‘OK, but only on the condition that everyone remains on call. I’ll make final selections today and run everything past Kate, but if there’s a gap to be filled, then I expect the team to be in a fit enough state to resume work if we need to.’

‘It might be a good time for you to take a break too,’ Ben suggested. ‘Maybe we could have dinner later?’

‘I’m not sure,’ I said, and I wasn’t. It had been good for me having Ben around and I felt comfortable in his company. He was certainly a distraction, his presence in my life as bold as his shirts, but I wasn’t sure if that was something I should encourage. We were friends, good friends, but there was an invisible but nonetheless important line between that kind of friendship and something closer.

‘But I’ve been wanting to tell you about this smallholding that came onto the market just before I left for Tanzania. It would be perfect for my cheese-making venture and if I can put together a convincing business plan for the bank, I might be able to buy it.’

‘Then how could I refuse?’ I said with a lightness I didn’t feel. Ben’s dreams were the reason I kept that line firmly between us. His plan wasn’t only about setting up business, it was about putting down roots. Our paths had crossed but our lives would not run in parallel and there was no point in dreaming that they ever would.

As Ben helped the others pack up camp, I turned my back on the village and the children’s laughter. It was a sound that pulled at my heart and I envied the women’s arduous but uncomplicated lives where their most precious possessions were the little ones chasing each other around the village, kicking up dust and trying the patience of their mothers.