Another Way to Fall (30 page)

‘What?’

‘You haven’t been the only one feeling guilty. I always thought it was my fault that you had to struggle so hard to fulfil your ambitions. I thought I had got in the way.’

‘Don’t ever think that, Emma. It wasn’t a struggle, it was a pleasure.’ Meg picked up the photo of Emma and Louise building sandcastles from the dressing table. ‘You and Louise are the joys of my life.’

‘Really? I thought we were a handful.’

‘OK.’ Her mum laughed. ‘Maybe I’m looking back with rose-tinted glasses. See this photo? I remember it took an age getting you two to smile at the same time. Every time I picked up the camera, an argument would break out …’

‘I thought Dad took the photo,’ Emma said, wondering how her memory had become so flawed.

‘He’d already disappeared to make some calls to the office. We didn’t have mobiles back then.’ Meg put the photo down and took Emma’s outstretched hand. ‘I promise you, Emma, the only regret I have is that I ever contemplated not having you. That was why I was crying.’ Meg’s tears threatened to surface again as the thoughts that had plagued her all of those years ago came back to haunt her now.

‘I’m sorry, Mum. I didn’t want to upset you but I’m glad I know. It helps.’

Meg nodded and a rogue tear rolled down her cheek in spite of herself.

‘So, back to this story of mine,’ Emma said, waiting for Meg to sit back down next to her. Her voice held a warning; they both had to keep a tight rein on their emotions. ‘I’m starting to get a little out of my depth. I need you to tell me all there is to know about childbirth,’ Emma said before adding tentatively, ‘is it excruciatingly painful?’

‘First time round I was terrified and yes, it hurts a lot. But it’s worth every single contraction because suddenly you have this beautiful little baby in your arms and you forget the pain. I suppose you have to, otherwise no woman would ever go through it a second time.’

There was so much more that Meg was eager to share so she and Emma spent the rest of the evening talking more about Emma and Louise’s early childhood, memories that Emma had been either too young to have herself or had simply forgotten. It was strange listening to somebody else describing her reaction to Louise’s arrival, recalling it from a completely different perspective to Emma who had looked back to that time with her own pair of rose-tinted spectacles. She had indeed played her part as doting mother hen but apparently the novelty of a new baby had quickly worn thin. Her mum was in the middle of yet another embarrassing anecdote when there was the telltale jangling of keys at the front door. When Ben appeared, Meg made her excuses and left them to it.

‘Am I forgiven?’ he asked.

‘And what exactly do I have to forgive you for?’ Emma asked, although she had a suspicion she knew.

He slid onto the bed, crawling the length of Emma’s body until his chin rested on her chest. ‘I didn’t give you the attention you deserved,’ he confessed. ‘I shouldn’t have let you come home by yourself. I shouldn’t have left you alone after seeing your dad.’

‘You had more immediate problems to deal with. I said I needed time to work things through and I did. I’ve had a good chat with Mum and it’s really helped. You have nothing to be forgiven for,’ she told him. ‘So how did it go? Did Derek Watkinson make his presence known?’

Ben lifted himself up and kissed Emma gently on the nose. ‘I’m not here to talk about Derek blinking Watkinson. I’m here to ask you how it went.’

Emma felt a warm rush of emotion rising through her body like a wave, and in its wake came much, needed peace. ‘I may have been short-changed with some things in life but you are not one of them. How did I get so lucky?’

‘Because you deserve it,’ Ben told her.

Emma snuggled down into the bed so that they were lying next to each other. ‘And from the deserving to the far less deserving. Let me tell you how my meeting with my dad went,’ she began.

Chapter 14

I felt complete; there really was no other way to describe it. The roses around the door of our cottage were in full bloom and so was my family. Barely a day old, I cradled my sleeping daughter in my arms and in perfect synergy, Ben’s arms wrapped around us both. It came as quite a surprise then to close my eyes and find myself in front of the shopkeeper once more.

‘The lady who likes to shop,’ he remarked.

‘Not this time,’ I told him, my eyes for once not drawn to the shelves. ‘I have everything I need or could ever want.’

‘I can’t tempt you with an exciting new career? I’m sure there’s something here that would give you a good balance between work and home life.’

‘I may not have access to all the trimmings but I think I’m putting together a pretty good package for myself this time.’

I told him all about the farm and my plans to work with Ben developing his business. I explained how I was already planning my first novel and when I said I could do it all and bring up a family too, he had little doubt that I could.

‘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 gave 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.