Another Way to Fall (6 page)

‘I know,’ Meg agreed and the familiar crackle of emotion accompanied her words. ‘I’m sorry.’

Emma’s heart bloomed with a new emotion. She had been so intent on controlling her own emotions from the moment she had stepped over the threshold that she only now appreciated how difficult this was for her mum too. The sense of loss and fear Emma had been battling with was nothing compared to what she felt now. Guilt.

‘I’m sorry too,’ Emma told her and, for the second time that day, she let herself be wrapped in someone’s arms. It was even more difficult to extract herself from her mum’s fierce embrace.

Tears were sniffed away and eyes averted as Emma continued making drinks and Meg started unpacking the bags of medication from the hospital.

‘Do you think it’s a good idea going back to the office so soon?’ Meg asked.

The pause lasted only a heartbeat. Emma extinguished the anger that flared before it was allowed to catch. Now was not the time for arguments and accusations of eavesdropping. ‘I only said I’d call in. I know I’m not ready to go back yet.’

‘Good,’ Meg said as she continued with her task. In no time at all, row upon row of medicine bottles were lined up in tight formation on the kitchen counter. A regiment of soldiers, ready for combat. Emma took her coffee and turned her back on them.

‘Do you mind if I take this to my room?’ Emma asked, surprised and saddened by how quickly she had adapted to a new life where she felt it necessary to ask permission to leave the room. ‘I could do with a bit of a rest.’

Alone in her bedroom, she cleared a space on her bed and lay down fully clothed, leaving her coffee to go cold, untouched. She felt completely drained but as she let herself drift off to sleep she was already constructing the world she planned to build with the power that Mr Spelling said she held at her fingertips.

Chapter 3

I hated flying. If there was an alternative form of transport, I would take it and if there wasn’t, I had more often than not changed my destination. It made going on holiday complicated but my latest adventure was business, not pleasure and there really wasn’t any other way of getting across the Atlantic Ocean, not if I wanted to make the nine o’clock meeting on Monday at Alsop and Clover’s New York office.

I looked out of the tiny window and peered across the broad wing of the plane. It shone with the full force of a sun that was no longer obstructed by the dense cloud cover that had looked so dark and impenetrable from the ground. The only clouds I could see now floated gently below us, white and fluffy and, with any luck, bouncy if the plane should suddenly drop altitude.

My stomach was being twisted into tight knots and I tried to convince myself that it was with excitement and not fear. I had been thrilled that Kate Barton had made such efforts to track me down and offer me a job if not a little suspicious as to why she would be so eager to take me back. I had begun my working life as her apprentice, one of half a dozen graduates who were to be nurtured and groomed for corporate life, but only some would achieve the success that the company demanded. I had been one of them, for a time at least.

I had been twenty-two when I joined the company and within six months I was trusted with my own projects and in two years I wasn’t just a team player, I was a team leader. I enjoyed working for Kate and I think she saw me more as a protégé than an apprentice. We had similar tastes, the same sense of humour and one day I hoped to have the same quiet fortitude that could speak louder than the most vociferous tirade in the board room. My career had been all mapped out but it wasn’t long before my tumour began to cut off the avenues to my success.

The disease had been cruel and insipid. It hadn’t arrived overnight and severed my options in one neat, clinical blow; it had crept slowly into my life. My symptoms had caused chaos and what I had assumed was irreparable damage to my career and reputation. The blurred vision affected my ability to research properly or produce reports on time. The headaches prevented me from getting out of bed, let alone getting into the office and worse still, I had bouts of memory loss. How was I supposed to convince a client that I had come up with an unforgettable tag line if I couldn’t remember it myself?

Kate had been understanding at first and we both assumed that my lapses would be short-term, a mystery illness that would clear up of its own accord. But it didn’t, it only got worse. I tried to build in contingencies to my projects wherever I could but when it became apparent that I was relying on the team more and more, when I became a liability rather than the asset Kate had groomed me to be, it was almost a relief when she severed the umbilical cord. Almost, but not quite. I was too busy dealing with the trauma of my diagnosis to feel anything close to relief.

And here I was, facing my past as I prepared for my future. I had to remember the person I had once been, the woman who had climbed the corporate ladder two steps at a time. That was who I was, not the victim of a brain tumour, not the bit player in someone else’s success. But I was fooling myself if I thought it was excitement I was feeling. It was pure terror.

The plane suddenly dipped and the seatbelt warning lights flashed on as my stomach lurched and a wave of nausea washed over me. I gripped the armrests tightly where another hand gently covered mine and gave it a squeeze.

‘You’re going to be OK,’ Alex told me. ‘I’m here.’

When Emma awoke she thought she was at home, in the house she shared with Ally and Gina, tucked up safely in her own bed. It was only as she prised open her eyes and saw the jaundiced yellow of the walls, warming in the weak morning light, that her memory returned with a sickening stomach punch. The room hadn’t changed since the last time she had been held captive within its walls and the paint had clung on in much the same way as her cancer cells. Emma stretched and untangled herself from the bed sheets. Despite the deep sleep that always seemed to arrive before dawn, she had spent most of the night tossing and turning thanks to her restless thoughts that were kept in perpetual train by the steroids.

With an unerring sense of timing that she had acquired in the last few days, Meg popped her head around the door. ‘Are you awake?’ she whispered. ‘Would you like anything?’

Emma had to remind herself that she was a grown woman and not a schoolgirl as she pulled herself up to face her mum. ‘No, I’ll get up now,’ she said as her eyes adjusted to the light. ‘You look nice.’

Meg had looked tired and worn for weeks but at last she looked a little like her old self. ‘I’ve taken your advice and made a bit of an effort. I might pop into work today if you think you can manage without me,’ she said, stepping through the door to show off her transformation. She was wearing a light grey suit with a silk blouse. It had been easy to forget that she was a fully qualified and experienced solicitor but the shadow of a woman who had hovered at the side of her daughter’s hospital bed had been given substance once more.

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Emma said with a nod of approval. ‘At least one of us is earning our keep.’

‘We’ll manage,’ Meg told her. ‘And I don’t intend to stay out long. I’ll do what needs to be done in the office and bring some of my case files back home with me. With any luck I’ll be back by mid-afternoon.’

‘I might take a string out of your bow and pop into the office too,’ Emma said, trying to sound nonchalant.

To Emma’s surprise, Meg smiled. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve already made plans to go in.’

‘Who told you?’ demanded Emma with a raised eyebrow.

‘Gina,’ they both said in unison.

‘She mentioned it when she phoned last night,’ Meg confessed. ‘I’m surprised you’re telling me now and not after the fact.’

‘As if I’d do that,’ Emma said. ‘It’s not as if you might try to put me off.’

Meg bit her tongue but clearly not hard enough. ‘It is just a visit, isn’t it? Please don’t let Alex persuade you to get involved in one of his projects.’

‘Is it my fault if I’m so indispensable?’

‘I’d better go,’ Meg said, sidestepping the argument. ‘I’ve printed out the list of your meds, what you need to take and when, and your pill boxes are all filled for the day. Don’t forget to take them with you when you go.’

‘You didn’t have to do that,’ scolded Emma.

‘One less thing for you to do.’

It was Emma’s turn to bite her tongue. She wasn’t looking for fewer things to do. An image of a tree being stripped of its leaves by autumn winds came to mind as she thought of her life being slowly deconstructed, leaf by leaf.

‘Is anyone going to pick you up or do you need a lift?’ Meg continued.

Emma wasn’t allowed to drive and Alex had an early morning appointment so couldn’t help although he had promised to meet her at the office later. Ally had offered to pick her up but Emma was intent on getting to Bannister’s under her own steam. It had been four days since her seizure and she was hoping that her anti-seizure drugs would continue to thwart her tumour’s best efforts to disrupt her life.

‘I can manage, Mum. Now go!’ Emma said, shooing her Mum out of the bedroom as she slipped out of bed and prepared to face the world. She glanced in the dressing-table mirror. As she traced a finger across her cheekbone, following the circle of grey beneath her eye, she realized that she would have to work hard on her own transformation and it was going to take an extra layer of concealer to prepare her mask for the day.

Her epic journey had involved a bus ride where she could feel the contents of her head being jostled about every time they went over a pot hole, followed by a ten-minute walk. By the time it was over, she felt completely drained and frustrated by the failings of her body and her arrival at the office did little to buoy her spirits.

Mr Bannister was away on business but she had expected that. They had had a lengthy telephone conversation, during which he had assured her that her job would be there waiting for her whenever she was ready to return. It was the reaction of her other colleagues that had surprised her. There had been plenty of ‘hello’s on her way to her office but her co-workers had looked distinctly uncomfortable and quickly made their apologies, insisting there were other places they should be. She could only assume that they thought her cancer was contagious. Alex was still out at a showroom with Jennifer so only Gina had been there to greet her and to give her the hug she desperately needed.

Emma sat down behind her desk and let her fingers slide along its surface. It was only chipped MDF but it felt like home and she was glad that only Gina was there to share this moment. Gina was nearer to Louise’s age but that hadn’t stopped them quickly forming a close friendship when Emma joined Bannister’s and sharing a house with her and Ally had been the perfect arrangement.

Despite Emma’s best efforts to make herself presentable that morning, she was pale in comparison to her friend’s glowing health. Gina was the girlie-girl who never left home without being perfectly made up and, even today, with her long chestnut-brown hair captured in a messy ponytail, she looked sweet and fresh and full of life. She sat patiently watching Emma, only allowing the breath she had been holding to escape when she saw a smile creep across Emma’s face.

‘Did I tell you Mr Bannister said that my job would be waiting for me whenever I wanted?’

‘And will you come back?’ Gina often came across as quite blunt, mainly because she had a habit of speaking before thinking, but it was a question that everyone was wondering about, Emma included.

‘I can’t imagine why anyone would want to come back to this insane asylum,’ remarked Ally, who had appeared at the door. For her sins, she worked in the office next door, which housed both the accounts and sale sections, a combination that made Ally’s remark entirely appropriate.

Emma hesitated, not because she didn’t know what to say but because she knew it would be painful for her friends to hear. ‘Because when everything is being taken from you, you hang onto what you can,’ she said.

‘But you’re not coming back now, not today,’ Ally insisted. It wasn’t a question.

Ally had always been the serious one. She was wearing dark clothes as usual to complement her deep brown, short-cropped hair. Her eyes were almost black and framed with dark-rimmed glasses. Emma and Gina had made numerous attempts to liven up her appearance but Ally’s only concession so far had been to put multi-coloured streaks in her hair. At the moment, she had bright red streaks, which matched her red lipstick.

‘You’re beginning to sound like my mum,’ Emma scolded. ‘I’m here for a visit, that’s all, just to say hello to people.’ She looked at Gina and said, ‘I can’t believe Dan hasn’t made an appearance yet.’

Ally recognized and took the bait. ‘Oh, he’s been in already this morning.’

‘Only once?’ Emma asked. ‘If Mr Bannister hadn’t been so quick to bring Jennifer into the office, it would have been Dan taking up residence at my desk, I bet. I suppose he’s still in here every chance he gets, things can’t have changed that much. It’s a wonder he ever has time to fit kitchens.’

Neither Ally nor Emma was looking at Gina and ignored her vain attempts to interject. ‘Maybe I need to look into this, see how many jobs Gina has been signing off for him instead of genuine customers,’ Ally said.

‘You might be onto something there.’

Ally shook her head sadly. ‘As an accountant I have a duty to look into these things.’

Gina banged a stapler down onto her desk to get their attention. ‘Firstly, Ally, you’re not an accountant and, secondly, Dan had a genuine reason for visiting this morning. He has some good ideas about changing the rotas to make things run more efficiently. A proper accountant would see that as time well spent.’

‘Firstly,’ responded Ally curtly, ‘I’m a trainee accountant, which is practically the same thing and, secondly, just admit it that you’re encouraging him. You wouldn’t be coming into work dressed up like a Barbie doll if you weren’t.’

‘Jealous?’ challenged Gina.