Another Way to Fall (31 page)

‘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 privilege 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.

‘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.