Читать книгу Another Way to Fall - Amanda Brooke, Amanda Brooke - Страница 7

It was Monday morning and Emma was alone, or at least as alone as she could be in a crowded ward. So confident was she of being discharged that she was already fully dressed and ready for her escape. She sat patiently on the edge of the bed, her legs crossed and her wayward foot tapping to the beat of the rain hammering against the window. Despite the miserable weather, the thought of being set free was no less enticing. She had already instructed her mum to stay at home, knowing that she would be busy enough preparing for Emma’s arrival. It was Louise who would be on call to pick her up as soon as Emma was ready, so now all she had to do was convince Mr Spelling that she was fit enough to be released. Leaving hospital and moving in with her mum may not be a complete escape from her nightmare but it was the nearest she was going to get to a semblance of normality.

Emma closed her eyes as she pondered the next phase of her life but her thoughts immediately took her to places she didn’t want to go. She didn’t have her mum’s unerring belief that there was a miracle cure out there somewhere and she wasn’t sure she should go chasing rainbows simply because her mum believed in them. Emma suspected that any experimental treatment would need to be unimaginably intensive to give her any chance of survival, involving what Mr Spelling would describe as ‘heroic measures’. She was already war weary and the question that haunted her was, did she want to let other people decide how much more treatment she should endure or did she want to take a more painful decision?

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Mr Spelling asked.

When Emma opened her eyes, her doctor was standing next to her and for once he had arrived without his entourage. ‘You know the inside of my head better than I do,’ she countered. ‘I’m surprised you need to ask.’

‘I’m good, but I’m not that good.’

‘So why are you so happy?’ Emma asked suspiciously as Mr Spelling grinned at her.

‘Because,’ he said, still smiling, ‘all the arrangements are now in place to escort you off the premises.’

‘What? You don’t want me to perform any more tricks for you?’ demanded Emma. ‘Wouldn’t you like me to walk in a straight line even? I’ve been practising,’ she said as she made a move to slip off the bed, but Mr Spelling lifted a hand to halt her.

‘No more tests today. You’re free to leave.’

‘And then you’ll breathe a huge sigh of relief.’

‘For now, at least,’ he replied with a note of regret.

Emma wrinkled her nose at him. ‘You don’t like accepting defeat, do you?’

Mr Spelling shifted uneasily. ‘We haven’t given up yet. We’ll start radiotherapy in January and take it from there. I’ve told you before and I’ll say it again: I will do my best for you, Emma, whatever that may be.’

‘Do you think it’s a waste of time trying to find a clinical trial?’ Emma felt nervous asking the question, not sure if she really wanted to know but at least without her mum by her side she stood a chance of getting an uninterrupted and open answer.

‘There’s a programme in America that looks promising but …’ Mr Spelling’s words trailed off but Emma waited for him. ‘There’s hope. There’s always hope.’

‘Is there? I can’t help thinking that it might be better to simply accept my fate. If you told me right now that there was nothing more you could do for me, no more treatment, then I swear, I think I’d actually feel relief. It’s hard clinging onto hope, knowing how bad the effects of the treatment are going to be and as you’ve been keen to point out, with no guarantees.’

Emma’s emotions were in complete flux and she couldn’t completely blame the cocktail of drugs she was taking for the mood swings. At times, she was ready to take on the world, whilst at others, she keenly felt its weight on her shoulders and could barely lift her head to the horizon. And then there were the darkest moments when all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and literally die. To make matters worse, she could switch from one mood to another without warning, but at least Mr Spelling’s calming presence gave her the confidence to dip a toe in each of her emotions and test the water.

‘It’s ultimately your choice, Emma. Whatever treatment we can offer you, there will always be choices.’

‘Quality versus quantity, by any chance?’ asked Emma.

‘Yes, I’m afraid in my business, it often comes down to that.’

‘It’s not only me I have to consider though,’ she said with a sigh of resignation. ‘I have to do what’s best for other people.’

The doctor gave Emma a stern look. ‘You have to do what’s best for you, Emma. What helps the people you love in the end is knowing that you got to do what you wanted.’

‘In that case, I want to see Paris in springtime, stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon and stroll through the Valley of the Kings,’ Emma quipped. Mr Spelling didn’t respond other than to raise an eyebrow and she held up her hands in surrender. This was not the time for smart remarks and Emma’s heart quickened as the words to her next question formed in her mind. ‘Are you really telling me I can call it a day now?’ Her tone remained light but, in Emma’s mind, a serious temptation was taking hold.

‘You have choices,’ repeated Mr Spelling sagely.

Emma was briefly lifted at the thought of bringing her treatment to an abrupt and total end, but then she let her body sag. ‘Then my choice is to make my family happy. My mum’s not ready to give up yet, so neither am I. I don’t want to be responsible for breaking her heart, not if I can help it.’

‘Then I’ll support your decision one hundred per cent,’ replied Mr Spelling with an unreadable poker face.

‘I suppose my next challenge is to build up my strength so I’m ready to take whatever you can throw at me. If memory serves, you don’t do things by half measures.’

‘And neither do you. It will be a tough fight, I won’t deny that,’ he agreed. ‘So is there anything else you need to know while we’ve got the chance?’ He had also recognized that the conversation would be quite different if Meg had been there.

‘No, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time,’ she told him, fearful that if the debate continued about her treatment plan she might just change her mind, but Mr Spelling didn’t seem ready to leave. The smile had slipped and he had a look of sadness on his face that Emma was finding all too familiar. She felt obliged to ease his pain. ‘Can you keep a secret?’ she asked.

‘Trust me, I’m a doctor,’ Mr Spelling said, his eyes brightening with interest.

‘In the story I’m writing, I survive this thing.’

‘Would this be the book you want to finish?’

Emma nodded. Her book was another reason she had to fight, for time at least. She’d had many visitors over the weekend, her closest friends and family with the notable exception of Alex, and all of them had heard that she had started to write. Every single person had tried to find out more about what exactly she was writing but so far Emma had remained tight-lipped. She wasn’t prepared to share her flight of fancy, unsure if she was ready for their judgement, but Mr Spelling was different. She could trust him with her life.

‘Yes, and my biggest problem will be how to fill that life I have in front of me.’

‘So tell me, do I play my part in your story or have you discovered that doctor with the sharper knives?’

‘You give me the all clear,’ she assured him.

‘Good. I like a happy ending.’

‘Ending?’ Emma laughed. ‘Oh, no, that’s just the beginning. Cancer is not the sum of my life, I am,’ she said firmly. ‘My story begins with me getting the all clear, an alternative to what happened last week really. Another life.’

‘Your life as you would want it to be,’ observed Mr Spelling.

Emma smiled, liking the description. ‘Yes, but I’ve already hit a hurdle. I haven’t got a clue what I would want if I could have anything!’

‘Springtime in Paris? Walking through the Valley of the Kings?’ Mr Spelling reminded her.

‘They’re certainly pretty snapshots from an interesting and varied life but I still need to add more depth to my story and the truth is, I don’t have any great ambitions, not any more.’ Emma sensed she was talking herself out of writing her book. Her tumour was about to take away the last of her dreams.

‘Any more?’ So you had ambitions once? You hold such power at your fingertips, Emma,’ he said, taking hold of her hand and looking at it. When he looked up at her again there was a shadow of regret in his eyes. ‘Just think, you have far more control over your destiny than any doctor. Your hopes and dreams are still there waiting to be handed to you on a plate.’

‘Or off a shopkeeper’s shelf.’

Mr Spelling shrugged his shoulders. ‘You say tomato, I say tom-A-to,’ he said.

‘In New York, I think they say tom-A-to,’ Emma said with a surge of enthusiasm. ‘Mr Spelling, I do believe you’ve just given me the inspiration I needed.’

I was still dangling my right foot in midair as I pondered my next step but then I looked up and was met with an encouraging smile from the kindly shopkeeper. I forgot all about my feet.

‘So, what would you like first?’ he asked, tipping his head towards the shelves of boxes that were lined up behind him where the hospital car park should have been.

My heart quickened as I realized that everything I could possibly want was within easy reach. ‘I … I don’t know where to begin,’ I said.

‘Don’t worry, I have a reputation for being able to size up my customers and I sense that what you want most is a purpose in life, something with a bit of a challenge. How about we make a start with your dream job?’

‘I had that once.’

‘Then you shall have it again,’ he replied, sweeping a brightly coloured box off a nearby shelf. It shone with promise. ‘But if you don’t mind, I’ve made some improvements.’

I didn’t need to ask what he meant. The colour of the box reminded me of a juicy green apple or, more precisely, the Big Apple, and I couldn’t wait to begin peeling away its skin to take a closer look.

With my career sorted, the shopkeeper naturally wanted to know what romantic aspirations I had. He looked me up and down, fingers curled around his chin. ‘Is Alex good enough for you?’ he asked sceptically.

I wrinkled my nose as he pointed to a shelf full of various other options, an enticing row of boxes in eye-catching gift wrap. ‘Not if you ask my friends and I have to admit that I had been contemplating moving to London and was expecting to have to make the break but … well, I still think there’s some potential there,’ I told him. I wasn’t ready to start my life from scratch and I didn’t have to. I could work with what I had and even make a few of my own modifications.

‘I’ll leave that one in your hands then but your decision isn’t binding. I can do a good deal when you’re ready for a trade-in.’

‘Don’t you mean if?’ I asked but my words were drowned out by the beeping of a car horn.

I was standing in front of the hospital, my foot still dangling in midair and if the noise of the horn hadn’t already startled me, then the face of the person behind the wheel would have been enough to knock me off my feet. My arms flailed and as I stumbled, the torn pieces of card I had been holding in my hand were snatched away by a gust of wind. As the winner’s confetti fluttered around me, I stepped forward to claim my prize, not even registering that first step that I had been debating, or the next.

‘I thought you couldn’t bear the sight of hospitals?’ I said. The sun had broken through what had seemed impenetrable cloud cover. I shaded my eyes with my hand and Alex beamed a winning smile at me, his olive skin pulling taught across his square jaw. He had the decency to look just a little shamefaced. As he absentmindedly smoothed his hair, hair that was slicked back so neatly that it needed no taming, I noted the delicate sprinkling of grey at his temples and knew Alex was proud of this first sign of aging. He was only thirty-two but he was embracing the more mature look, he thought it made him appear more distinguished. ‘I couldn’t keep away, I’ve been thinking of you all morning. So tell me, how did it go?’

It was my turn to smile. ‘Complete remission,’ I said and the tremor in my voice travelled down my spine in a delicious shiver.

‘Then that makes your next decision rather easy,’ he said with a meaningful look.

‘And what decision would that be?’ I asked.

Alex leaned over and opened the door for me. He waited until I was safely secured in the passenger seat before he answered. ‘I would love to tell you but Ally took the call and she’s insisting that she should be the one to tell you,’ he said, picking his phone up from the well between the seats. He thumbed a few buttons briefly and then passed it to me before the call was connected.

I gave him a quizzical look as I took the phone but Alex’s face was unreadable.

‘Ally, do you have some news for me?’ I asked when the call was answered.

‘Oh, no. Tell me your news first,’ Ally demanded into my ear.

‘I’ve been given the all clear,’ I said. I had already made frantic calls to my mum and Louise but it didn’t matter how many times I said it out loud, it still hadn’t quite sunk in. ‘All clear, Ally. At last, I have something in my life to celebrate.’

‘More than you think.’ Ally’s voice broke and there was a pause. I could hear a nose being blown. ‘I’m so relieved that you can finally get on with the rest of your life.’ There was another pause as Ally took a deep breath. ‘And what a life it could be. Someone called Kate rang from your old firm, when you worked in London. She wouldn’t give me all the details but she told me enough. She, or rather they, Alsop and Clover, want you back. She wants you to call her urgently. I’ll text the number to your own phone, OK? Emma, the job will be based in New York!’

My eyes widened in shock. I was speechless.

‘Emma?’

‘New York? Seriously?’

Ally laughed. ‘I’m so happy for you, Emma. Enjoy the moment. It’s been a long time coming.’

I was still stunned when the call ended and I handed the phone back to Alex. ‘Why me?’

He laughed. ‘One of the biggest PR and marketing firms in the world is offering you the job of a lifetime and you make it sound like it’s a bad thing.’

‘Oh, my God, Alex, I don’t think I can take this much good news in one day.’

I could feel a scream building inside me as I took one last look at the hospital before Alex drove away. The pavement flickered white as the wind continued to play with the discarded remnants of my appointment card. I had left my mark on the hospital but then it had left its mark on me too and, in fairness, it was I who had taken far more of a beating. But I wasn’t interested in keeping score; we were even as far as I was concerned and I was ready to put it all behind me.

It was only once we had driven through the hospital gates that I regained my power of speech. ‘And are you OK with me moving to New York?’ I asked, surprised at how selflessly Alex was basking in my glory.

‘I want what’s best for you and only you,’ he told me earnestly. ‘It doesn’t matter where you are, I’ll always support you. You can count on me.’

‘Are you ready, Em?’ The voice was familiar but held a note of trepidation that would be out of place anywhere except perhaps an oncology ward.

Louise’s face had the same shadow of fear across it as her own but that was where the similarity ended. Louise was a complete contrast to her sister, taking after their dad’s side of the family. Emma coveted her blue eyes and the blonde hair falling poker-straight halfway down her back, not to mention her body, which was the picture of health. What she didn’t envy was the weight of responsibility that would be placed on her little sister’s shoulders. Louise wouldn’t only have to stand on her own feet as her mum had said, she would need to be strong enough to keep the family together if the worst happened. One of Emma’s legacies would have to be preparing Louise for the task. Judging by her red and swollen eyes, Emma suspected that she was asking too much of Louise, but there really was no choice.

‘I have to wait for my prescription but other than that, I’m ready to go,’ Emma replied. Even the sudden surge of enthusiasm to write couldn’t delay her further. She eagerly closed down her laptop before slipping it into an oversize holdall, which was already crammed full of all the detritus of her latest hospital stay.

‘Shall I take that?’

‘I can manage,’ Emma said. She wouldn't play the part of helpless patient any longer than necessary but as she stood up, her determination faltered. The dizzy spell was more of a ripple than a wave so she did her best to hide it, taking longer than needed to pack up the last of her things.

‘Did you bring my jacket?’ Emma asked, thinking about the rain that was still coming down hard.

‘Oh, no. Sorry, Em, I didn’t think. Here, take mine.’

Louise had already begun to take off her coat but Emma stopped her in her tracks with a warning glare. She was still the older sister, which gave her an air of authority that she would cling onto until the bitter end. Louise raised an eyebrow in defiance but then shrugged her coat back on and as she did so, her eyes were drawn to something or someone behind Emma. She began to suppress a smile.

When Emma turned around, Peter was standing behind her. He had collected Emma’s medication, a cocktail of anti-seizure drugs, steroids and painkillers that would hopefully keep the tumour and its symptoms at bay in the weeks running up to her treatment. They were piled up high on the seat of a wheelchair. ‘That thing had better not be for me,’ she growled.

Peter was about to answer but Louise cut him short. ‘Don’t even try. You won’t get her to use it.’

Peter and Emma locked eyes. ‘OK, I give in,’ he said, having stood his ground for only a fraction of a second.

‘I tell you what,’ offered Emma. ‘We can use the wheelchair to carry all of my stuff to the car. In the meantime, you can have a quick break and collect it from the entrance in, say, ten minutes.’

‘If there was an element of compromise in there, then I think I missed it,’ he told her but, keen to take advantage of an impromptu break, didn’t argue.

With a few brief goodbyes to staff and patients alike, Emma and Louise meandered through the hospital towards the main exit. ‘You are alright about moving out of Mum’s, aren’t you?’ Emma asked. They had already had the same discussion over the weekend but Emma suspected that her sister had barely taken anything in, the news that the cancer was back was still sinking in.

‘Of course I am and I have a long list of friends offering to put me up. I’ll be fine, honest,’ Louise told her.

‘If I’d known this was going to happen, I would never have convinced you to rent out the apartment above the bistro.’

‘And if I had known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have depended on you so much to get me back on my feet after Joe and I split up.’

The breakup of Louise’s relationship had been a double whammy because Joe was also her business partner. He had been the head chef whilst Louise provided the front-of-house service and the bistro had been going from strength to strength. Joe had walked out on her just over a year ago and it had been Emma who had convinced her to go it alone.

This had all happened around the time that Emma had been overlooked for the marketing job at Bannister’s and she had been keen to concentrate her efforts on the bistro, where she knew she would be appreciated. It also allowed her bruised ego time to heal. Louise had bought Joe out with a substantial investment from her mum and she had eventually found a new head chef. Emma’s involvement had begun to dwindle when she started going out with Alex but she was still called upon to firefight now and again. The cash-flow problems that had resulted in Louise renting out her flat only served to prove that she wasn’t quite ready to go it alone.

‘What I wouldn’t give for a crystal ball right now,’ mused Emma as the main exit doors came into view. ‘But don’t think for a minute I’m going to spend all my time at Mum’s with my feet up.’

Louise took her eyes from the wheelchair she was trying to manoeuvre and checked Emma’s expression. ‘You’re not thinking of going back to work are you?’

Emma looked sheepish, as if she was still considering the possibility. ‘I need more in my life than hospital appointments. I need a purpose, I always will,’ she said with a smile as she realized that her kindly shopkeeper would say the same thing.

‘But …’ began Louise as she narrowly averted ramming the wheelchair into the back of an old man who had been walking down the corridor at a more sedate pace.

‘Don’t worry, even I think it would be a bit too much to go back to Bannister’s but there’s nothing to stop me interfering in your business.’

‘Yes, there is,’ Louise corrected.

Emma knew her mum would do her utmost to prevent her from exerting herself. ‘We’ll see,’ she said as they hit fresh air.

They came to a halt beneath a wide canopy, which gave some protection from the elements. The rain was thundering against the roof above their heads but it was music to Emma’s ears. The damp taste of freedom on her tongue felt fresh and revitalizing. She was about to ask Louise where she had parked when a car beeped its horn, making Emma jump in fright, as much by an alarming sense of déjà vu as by the sound itself.

When Emma’s heart stopped pounding, a strange silence descended. It wasn’t complete – she could still hear the wind whistling around her – but it was the absence of one particular noise that drew her attention. The rain had stopped abruptly and as Emma looked up, the sunshine breaking through the cloud was blinding. She squeezed her eyes shut but as she did so, she caught a glimpse of what could be snowflakes falling around her. She blinked against the sunlight to take a better look. It wasn’t snowflakes in front of her eyes but tiny pieces of white card. Emma knew that if she gathered them up and glued them back together, she would find herself in the possession of a dog-eared appointment card. A shiver shot down her spine and she grabbed at her jacket to wrap it tightly around her but she couldn’t make purchase with the material and she began to panic.

‘Emma, are you alright?’ Louise asked, putting her hand on one of Emma’s flailing arms.

Emma blinked and the noise of the rain crashed into her world. ‘My coat,’ she said, still trying to close it around her.

‘You’re not wearing a coat, Em.’

Emma felt the panic rise in her chest and then slowly ebb away. She could remember the sound of the horn beeping, the silence broken by the sudden roar of rain above her head but nothing in between. She slowly recognized the familiar signs of a partial seizure. The position of her tumour meant that she could expect unsettling effects such as déjà-vu episodes and even hallucinations. Her medication was intended to reduce swelling and control the symptoms but it would appear that her drug regime was still far from perfect.

‘Do we need to get you back inside?’ Louise asked.

‘Not a chance,’ Emma said as she looked towards the car that had stopped in front of the entrance. It was the van that Louise used for the bistro and there was a man in the driving seat. Ben was the bistro’s new head chef and he had been the one bright light in her sister’s darkest hour. Despite the sight of such a familiar and welcoming face, Emma still had to swallow the bitter taste of disappointment. She was surprised with herself for even entertaining the idea that it might have been Alex.

With no recollection of her hallucination, she was even more surprised when she scanned the ground around her, in search of the remnants of an appointment card that existed only in her imagination.

Meg had been working hard. With the help of Ally and Gina, she had already transferred all of Emma’s belongings from the house she’d shared with them to the apartment. The whole process had been exhausting and Meg looked nervous as she opened the door to her daughter.

‘Let me help you with those,’ she said, wrestling a large carrier bag crammed with medical supplies from Emma’s grasp. Emma felt the first tug of frustration pull at her mood but she put on a brave smile.

‘Did everything go alright? Did you see Mr Spelling? Is there any news?’ continued Meg.

The questions came out like bullets and Emma expertly deflected each one. ‘Yes, yes and no,’ she said.

‘What about when we were outside the hospital?’ Louise interrupted.

‘Why? What happened?’

Emma gave Louise a warning look before answering. ‘Nothing. Louise forgot my coat, that’s all. Now, are we going to stand here all day? Poor Ben’s arms will be two inches longer if he stands holding my bag any longer.’

‘Sorry, of course you can, come in. Welcome home, sweetheart,’ Meg said, her words choked with emotion.

They all squeezed into the entrance hall. Doors to the left and right led off to the two bedrooms and the bathroom and the door immediately in front of them gave access to the open-plan living area. Emma suspected that the apartment wasn’t quite as claustrophobic as it seemed in her current state of mind but the place brought back painful memories she had hoped to have put behind her. Meg opened the door to what was to be Emma’s bedroom and Ben put her holdall onto the double bed, the floor space having already been taken up with a mass of bags and boxes.

‘I haven’t put your things away yet,’ Meg explained. ‘I thought you might want to decide where everything should go.’

‘Or decide what needs to be kept and what doesn’t,’ Emma said, swallowing another bitter pill of disappointment. She had been living in a large Victorian terrace for the last few years and space had never been an issue.

Emma turned away and headed for the living area, which had a compact kitchen with a small dining area to the left and the living room to the right. The soft lime-green walls gave the room a modern twist and the creams and purples of the soft furnishings added light and shade but the colours were lost on Emma. Her world had turned as dark as her mood and she ignored the balloons and WELCOME banners, her eyes drawn instead to the wide patio window that led onto a balcony and the panoramic view over the River Mersey. In the distance, she could just make out the silhouettes of brooding hills, the most distant of which marked the Welsh border. Their peaks were smeared by dark, heavy clouds as they scraped against the sky.

‘Am I interrupting?’

It was perhaps the one voice that could draw Emma back into the apartment. ‘Alex! You came!’ she cried.

‘I said I would,’ he said reproachfully as he proferred a bouquet of blood-red roses, which were crushed as Emma rushed into his arms. As she buried her head in his shoulder, she breathed him in. She could smell aftershave and soap overlaid with an unmistakeable mustiness. Bannister’s offices adjoined the workshop and Emma was surprised by the sudden rush of longing for the place.

Meg and Louise busied themselves in the kitchen whilst Ben stepped into the shadows. There was an air of judgement in their collective silence.

‘We’d better head back to the bistro,’ Louise said at last, her tone brusque to match the speed at which she headed back towards the door that she had walked through only moments earlier.

‘You’re the boss,’ added Ben, but he was still looking at Emma. ‘If there’s anything you need, Emma, you know where I am.’

‘Thanks, Ben,’ Emma said, lifting her head over Alex’s shoulder.

‘Any cravings for my Moroccan chicken or chilli beef, you only have to pick up the phone. Day or night.’

Emma held his gaze. She was used to offers of help being thrown at her, platitudes that would never be followed through, but Ben’s offer was direct, definitive and she didn’t doubt for a minute that he would be there if she needed him.

‘Come on,’ Louise told him, pulling at his sleeve. ‘Before she gets any ideas about us starting up a takeaway business.’

‘I’ll see you out,’ Meg offered.

‘And remember to shut the door after you this time,’ mumbled Louise as they disappeared.

‘Actually, I can’t stay long either,’ Alex said as he unravelled himself from Emma’s arms and dropped the crushed bouquet onto a nearby table. ‘I just wanted to let you know that I’ve really been missing you.’

‘I’ve missed you too,’ Emma replied, hoping it wasn’t the cold reception from her family that had made him eager to leave.

‘You look so well,’ Alex said. There was a note of disbelief in his voice. He already knew the painful detail of Mr Spelling’s prognosis and Emma wondered what he had expected to see. Alex hadn’t known her when she had first been diagnosed with cancer, he hadn’t seen her brought to her knees by the rigours of her treatment and, more importantly, he had never seen her as a cancer victim. But that was what he saw now.

Emma fought against the urge to raise her hand self-consciously to the dressing that still covered the back of her head. She had pulled her hair loosely across the wound in a ponytail and that, with the help of carefully applied makeup to cover the dark circles under her eyes, had meant to complete her disguise. ‘I’m not dead yet,’ she said, surprising herself by her directness.

If she had wanted to shock Alex, then the way he surreptitiously inched away from her embrace confirmed that she had succeeded.

‘Sorry,’ she added quickly.

‘You’re a fighter and you’re going to beat this. You have to.’

‘I’m not sure my doctor would agree with you there.’

‘Will you come back to work?’

‘No, not at the moment,’ Emma said, although she desperately wanted to say yes. She wasn’t ready to quit on every aspect of her life and as she had said, she wasn’t dead yet. But Emma also had to accept there were limitations and the seizure she had suffered earlier that day served as a timely reminder of that fact. She could push herself but not too hard, not until she was sure that her medication levels had reduced or completely eliminated some of the symptoms. She wasn’t ready to consider that she might never return to work but returning in the near future was an unrealistic target.

‘We could really do with your help right now,’ persisted Alex. ‘Mr Bannister has brought Jennifer in to help but she’s on a steep learning curve.’

‘Jennifer’s covering my job?’

Jennifer was Mr Bannister’s wayward daughter and although she was about the same age as Emma, she had never worked as far as Emma was aware and she had certainly never shown an interest in Daddy’s business before.

‘Needs must,’ Alex said. ‘She’s trying really hard but it’s not an easy job stepping into your shoes. I think she would really appreciate it if you dropped by some time, when you’re up to it.’

‘Maybe I will call into the office,’ Emma told him but she had no intention of helping Jennifer step into her shoes. She had thought that they were still hers and she would be telling Mr Bannister just that.

Alex smiled and kissed the top of her head, his lips making a satisfied smacking sound. ‘I knew I could count on you. We make a good team, you and me.’

‘Yes, we do,’ agreed Emma as she tried to match his smile. ‘Give me a few days and then I’ll come in. I promise.’

‘And if there’s anything you need, you know where I am,’ Alex said as he peeled himself from Emma’s arms.

There was only a brief kiss on the lips and then Alex was gone. Within moments, Emma felt the walls closing in around her so she busied herself in the kitchen. She was filling the kettle when Meg reappeared. She had been in Emma’s bedroom on the pretext of sorting out boxes, keeping a safe distance and, by all appearances, giving Emma some privacy.

‘How about a nice cup of coffee?’ Emma asked.

‘There’s decaf in the cupboard, or if you fancy something else then I’ve got pomegranate juice or there’s green tea. I tried to get that smoothie drink you used to have but they’re going to have to order it in for me.’ Meg had clearly resurrected her knowledge of cancer-fighting nutrients. Foods high in antioxidants or containing phytochemicals would be high on the list of essential groceries from now on.

‘I’m OK with normal coffee for now,’ Emma told her with a mixture of irritation and sadness as another door in her past life reopened. ‘You don’t have to nursemaid me.’

‘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.