Читать книгу Another Way to Fall - Amanda Brooke, Amanda Brooke - Страница 8

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.

‘No,’ snorted Ally. ‘There are no men in my life because that’s my choice.’

‘Liar! You wish Emma was still in hospital so you could go and flirt with her nurse.’

Ally drew a sharp breath. ‘I would give anything for Emma never to have been in there in the first place.’

Emma tried to keep her smile but it trembled. She had found respite in the inane chatter of her friends but her cancer had come crashing into the conversation. Two sets of tear-filled eyes looked at her for strength that she didn’t have. ‘I know,’ she managed to say but she could already feel her throat constricting. She stood up and was about to go to her friends when a flash of colour swept into the room.

‘You’re back!’ screeched Jennifer, rushing over to give Emma a hug and a kiss on each cheek.

Emma looked over her shoulder at Ally and Gina, who had been shocked out of their despair. Ally started sticking her finger down her throat and only just missed being caught out as Jennifer spun around.

‘I told you to text me as soon as she arrived,’ she chided. Jennifer stood with her hands on her hips as she looked from one fixed smile to another. She was wearing a brightly patterned winter coat, its pinks and blues clashing dramatically with her ginger hair, which was cut into a neat bob with a sharp fringe. Ally had jokingly referred to Gina as a Barbie doll, but Jennifer had a far better claim to the title.

‘We wanted it to be a surprise,’ replied Ally, her fixed grin still fixed.

Jennifer turned back towards Emma. ‘I want you to know that I’m doing the best I can but I have been thrown in at the deep end.’

Emma wondered if she was actually expecting her to feel sorry for her. Jennifer had been cosseted and spoiled from an early age by her parents, and when her mum died, when she was a teenager, Mr Bannister had ensured that his daughter lacked for nothing to fill the gaping hole in her life. Working for a living was going to be quite a culture shock for her. ‘Yes, it’s not as easy as it looks,’ Emma said.

‘The girls are helping as much as they can and, of course, Alex is doing his best too. I just hope I don’t mess it all up.’

‘Speaking of the devil,’ muttered Ally as Alex entered the office.

‘Sorry I wasn’t here for you,’ he said, going over to give Emma a kiss on the cheek.

‘Nothing new there,’ Gina chipped in.

Emma gave both her friends a warning look. She had enough battles of her own without playing referee.

‘I’ll go make us all a cuppa,’ Gina said.

‘I’ll help,’ Ally added, and they both disappeared from view.

By the time they came back, Emma was busily tapping away at her keyboard, with Alex and Jennifer peering over her shoulder. Alex had already managed to clear her password, while she was in hospital, to access her computer, but he hadn’t been able to find the files he wanted.

‘It’s all down to my training at Alsop and Clover,’ Emma explained. ‘You can’t be too careful when it comes to security. All my important files are encrypted.’

‘Here, write down the passwords,’ Alex said, kissing the top of her head before pushing a notepad towards her.

Emma felt her chest tighten. The files he wanted held all of her ideas for future projects and campaigns, the ones that would help Jennifer fit a little more snugly into her shoes, not to mention help Alex do his job without even thinking. A voice in Emma’s head was telling her she was being manipulated, violated even. The voice was insistent, strained with barely contained fury, telling her she was a fool. Alex had rushed to her side, eventually, but not to help her. He had wanted to strip the assets, gathering up her work to pass off as his own and to impress Jennifer. The voice told her to stand up for herself.

But that voice wasn’t alone in her head; there was something else there too. She had promised Mr Bannister that she would help as much as she could. If there was a chance that she would never return to work, then all of her ideas would go to waste.

She picked up a pen and jotted down the passwords. Most of them, anyway. As Gina gently placed a mug of coffee in front of her, Emma glanced meaningfully at her watch.

‘If you don’t mind, I think I’ll call it a day,’ she said.

Ally and Gina looked purposefully at Alex, but he was too engrossed in the document he had just opened to notice them. Ally cleared her throat and he eventually looked up. ‘Oh, sorry,’ he said. ‘Do you want a lift?’

‘It’s alright, you’re busy. Besides, I could do with some fresh air.’ Emma had missed Alex, had missed being in the office too, but now she needed to escape.

‘Oh, OK then,’ he said. ‘Hey, how about we go out for dinner on Saturday?’

‘That would be nice,’ she said, but it was a lie that burned like acid at the back of her throat.

‘I’ll have had a chance to go through your files by then and I can pick your brain.’

‘You and everyone else,’ Emma replied under her breath.

There were plenty of hugs as she said, her goodbyes but it was Ally who insisted on seeing Emma out. ‘I can give you a lift, if you want,’ she offered.

‘I think my life’s in enough jeopardy already, don’t you?’

They both made a good attempt at a laugh. ‘My driving is getting better and I’ll take good care of your car until you’re ready to take it back.’ Emma had seen no point in having her car parked outside her mum’s apartment unused. Ally had borrowed it often enough so it seemed only logical to leave it at the house, and her friend had promised to be her chauffeur whenever she deigned to admit that she needed help.

‘I may never be ready. You do know that, don’t you?’ Emma told her as gently as she could.

‘We know. We just don’t want to believe it. You deserve better,’ she added.

Emma knew Ally was veering neatly towards another sensitive subject. ‘I know, but for now I have to work with what I’ve got.’

‘Really?’ asked Ally, unconvinced.

‘Really,’ confirmed Emma. ‘Although I may have to check the returns policy with my shopkeeper.’ When Ally gave her a worried look, Emma laughed and it was genuine this time. She gave her one final hug. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve not lost the plot just yet.’

As Emma pulled her coat around her and headed into the early afternoon sunshine, she realized that she was going to have to give some serious thought to the image of the hero she had created in her mind. His shining armour was looking distinctly tarnished. As her mind whirred with ideas of how she could mete out justice and revenge in equal measure, the impotence she had felt sitting at her desk was slowly replaced by a sense of power that made her fingers tingle.

Emma’s trip to the office had been far more physically exhausting than she had imagined. She could feel the pressure building up inside her head so she abandoned her plans to start writing and spent two days recovering. By Friday morning she was crawling the walls of the apartment but still she couldn’t escape into her imaginary world. Her self-imposed break had given her time to doubt the direction her story should be taking and the claustrophobic atmosphere of the apartment was fuelling her writer’s block. She knew she didn’t have time to waste prevaricating; time wasn’t on her side so she packed away her laptop, picked up the pill box her mum had prepared for the day and called a cab.

The Traveller’s Rest was on a leafy avenue not far from Sefton Park on the boundary of Liverpool city centre. Her sister’s restaurant had a bohemian feel to it with bare timber floors and mismatched tables and chairs. To the front, there were floor-to-ceiling windows with flowing crimson drapes and, to the rear, rows of intimate booths.

Weekday mornings were never a busy time for the restaurant but at first glance it appeared closed and, as Emma pushed open the door, she half expected it to be locked. The temperature in the bistro was only marginally warmer than outside where winter had started to bite. There were two tables occupied so if Louise had been relying on warm bodies to heat up the place she was going to have to recruit more staff. As it was, Steven, the only waiter on duty, was at a loss with what to do with himself. He was keeping one watchful eye on his customers, ready to pounce at the slightest suggestion that they needed something, and the other on the door. He looked briefly disappointed when he realized it hadn’t been more custom walking through the door but that was quickly replaced by genuine excitement at seeing Emma.

‘We weren’t expecting you until the weekend,’ he explained, taking her by the arm and leading her towards one of the booths at the far side of the restaurant. ‘Not that I’m complaining, it’s lovely to see you back again.’ The look he gave Emma was enough to let her know that he was sorry to hear her cancer had returned, sorry that she may not beat it this time. As with most people, the look alone would have to be enough as he failed to voice his thoughts.

Emma gratefully accepted the look and then moved onto safer ground. ‘I thought I’d check out business. See how Louise has been getting on without my interference.’

Steven winced as he made a point of looking around at the empty tables. ‘She’s out at the cash-and-carry at the moment but we’re doing fine,’ he lied. ‘Here, let me take your coat.’

‘No thanks,’ replied Emma, pulling her jacket protectively around her. ‘It’s freezing in here.’

‘Cost-cutting measures.’

Emma raised her eyes to the ceiling in disbelief. ‘It’s hardly providing a warm and welcoming atmosphere. I’m officially back on the case and here’s my first suggestion: turn the thermostat up.’

‘But …’ began Steven. He had been working for Louise from the very beginning and was treated like one of the family, which meant that he had experienced the wrath of both sisters. He now faced a dilemma. Louise was the one supporting his personal development by allowing him to fit his shifts around a catering course and occasionally letting him loose in the kitchens. He could stay in her good books or he could do what Emma told him.

Emma made it easier for him to decide. ‘I was being polite when I said it was a suggestion,’ she said. ‘I don’t care what Louise says, she’ll lose the few customers she has left unless she starts taking action. Please, Steven. Turn it up, if only for me.’

‘You’re the boss,’ Steven relented with a playful smile. ‘How about a nice hot cup of coffee?’

‘This place is going up in my estimation all the time.’

The booth Emma was using had red leather benches along three sides, which would comfortably seat six and, under better circumstances, she would have felt guilty taking up so much space. The table was bare wood with a collection of condiments and menus lined up in a row along its centre. Emma pushed these out of the way so she had room to set up her laptop.

She took a deep breath and held it as she stared at the blank page that appeared in front of her and waited for inspiration to strike. A steaming cup of coffee, complete with swirls of creamy foam and a sprinkling of chocolate appeared in its stead.

Emma let out a sigh and her body visibly sagged as she looked up, expecting to see Steven. However, she discovered Ben watching her instead. Ben was in his early thirties, medium height with broad shoulders and dark short-cropped hair peaking through his catering hat. His eyes were the deepest brown with the longest lashes and he had the kind of expression that Emma missed. Someone was looking at her without pity in his eyes and the look lifted her spirit and her body along with it.

‘Not got anything better to do than serve front of house?’ Emma asked.

Ben looked around the restaurant in the same way that Steven had. ‘No,’ he said. ‘But I’m not here to serve, I’m here to complain.’

‘Complain about what?’ Emma wondered if Steven had told him about her order to crank up the heating but would be surprised if Ben would disagree. He had been in the middle of many arguments between Louise and Emma before now and, more often than not, he had sided with Emma.

‘I’ve been staring at the phone waiting for you to ring me with that order. I thought steroids were supposed to make you eat more.’

Emma laughed. ‘Yes, they do, but if I give into temptation, you’d never get me out of this place.’

‘I wouldn’t complain and, besides, we could always roll you out when you’re done.’

Emma’s smile was so wide that her cheeks began to ache. There were muscles being used that hadn’t been for quite some time. ‘Never mind the steroids. You’re good enough medicine, Mr Knowles.’

She had first met Ben when she and Louise had interviewed him for the job after Joe had left. Louise had still been in shock at the time. Her heart had been broken and her confidence shattered, but Emma had believed in Louise even when Louise hadn’t believed in herself. Her sister had told her she wanted to prove that she could make it without Joe, and Emma had been determined to make that happen. So whilst Louise was assessing candidates purely on their cooking abilities, Emma was looking for something else. She wanted someone who would bring a calming influence, who would be an anchor to the occasional storms her sister could brew up and maybe, just maybe, be the person to mend her sister’s heart.

Ben had stood out for both of them. He had learnt his trade in Liverpool and then travelled further afield to expand his culinary knowledge. Along the way he had transformed his trade into a passion, which translated not only onto the plate but came across in his whole demeanor and for once the sisters hadn’t argued about their choice. Since then, Emma had watched and waited but the only sparks between Louise and Ben were confined to the kitchen.

‘And you are an amazing woman,’ he said, dropping down into the seat opposite her. He rubbed his cheeks, wiping away the gentle blush that threatened. ‘I have to admit though, when I picked you up from hospital, I was scared.’

‘Of me or my cancer?’ Emma asked.

Ben took off his hat and scrunched it in his hands. He looked like he was about to lose the composure that had become his trademark, in and out of the kitchen. ‘Of what the cancer might have already taken from you, I suppose. I thought you’d be a little less …’ he began.

‘A little less alive?’

Instinct told Emma that the usual commiserations weren’t about to roll off his tongue and she was proven right. He rested his head on his hand as he scrutinized her face. His eyes fixed in concentration. ‘Perhaps. But you don’t look like someone who’s ready to give up.’

Emma had always felt at ease in Ben’s company and she had often surprised herself at how much she could open up to him. She respected his opinion and his judgement when it came to the bistro and as he sat in front of her, sharing his fears, she didn’t think there was anything she couldn’t trust him with.

‘Not when there’s still so much left to do,’ Emma told him. ‘I won’t rest until I’ve knocked Louise into shape so she can run this place properly on her own, and then there are things happening at work that would have me turning in my grave, so I suppose you’re right. Giving up isn’t an option.’ Emma took an excited breath. At last she had found someone she could talk to who wouldn’t wince at the vaguest mention of death and she was tempted to take Ben hostage.

‘So why were you frowning at your laptop?’ Ben asked.

As if Ben had magically summoned its return, the frown reappeared on Emma’s brow. ‘That would be because of the book I’m trying to write.’

‘And is this how great writers work? Direct thought transfer rather than actual typing?’

‘Hmm, very funny. I was waiting for inspiration to strike.’

‘So what’s this story about?’ Ben asked, little knowing that so far only Mr Spelling had been trusted with the premise of her opus.

There was something in Ben’s eyes that made Emma pause only briefly before opening up her heart. ‘OK, this is top secret. You tell no-one,’ she said, as if he had spent hours trying to wear her down into a confession. ‘It’s a story about someone like me, who has battled illness but, in her case, she wins. She gets the one thing I never did, the all-clear.’ Emma paused long enough for Ben’s nod of agreement, which he dutifully provided. ‘I need to write about what she would then do with her life. I know you’re supposed to write about what you know but that’s the whole point, I’m writing about what hasn’t happened in my life.’

‘Your life? So this someone that’s like you, is you?’

Emma pursed her lips but it was too late to take it back. ‘I still can’t escape the fact that I haven’t experienced enough to draw upon,’ she said.

‘Somehow I think you’re doing yourself a disservice. I would have thought that someone who’s gone through what you’ve been through has had more than their fair share of experiences.’

‘Experiences of facing death, yes, but not of living. I haven’t been anywhere, I haven’t done anything,’ Emma said, almost in a whisper that sizzled with emotion. Her head dropped, as she felt the little hope she clung to fizzle and die.

Ben leaned over and, hooking his finger under her chin, lifted her head so she had to look back at him. ‘I thought we had just agreed that you hadn’t given up on life yet. There’s still time to make those experiences happen and write about them.’

Emma dropped her eyes and tried to lower her head but Ben’s hand remained firmly in place. She turned her head to escape him. ‘Time to write about them, perhaps, but not time to experience them too,’ she said softly.

Ben took his hand away and Emma’s gaze came back to meet his. ‘Tell me what I have to do to stop you simply frowning at that computer all day and make something happen,’ he demanded.

‘I need to do some research, I suppose,’ conceded Emma. ‘Trying to decide on the plot is hard enough but I can’t even describe the places I want to go to.’

‘And where do you want to go?’

‘Everywhere,’ Emma said, as if it would be that easy. Her imagination was supposed to be limitless but her experiences weren’t. ‘I’m on my way to New York but I don’t want to stop there. I want to see, I don’t know, the Seven Wonders of the World and then some. But in reality I haven’t been further than Spain.’

Ben grimaced. ‘I don’t want to burst your bubble, but I’m afraid the only one of the original Seven Wonders of the World still in existence is the Great Pyramid at Giza.’

‘See! I don’t even know where I can go.’

‘May I?’ he asked, turning Emma’s computer towards him.

Emma watched as he tapped a few buttons. There was a look of concern on his face that didn’t fill Emma with confidence.

‘It doesn’t have an Internet connection,’ he complained.

‘Because the bistro doesn’t have WiFi,’ Emma said, making a note to develop that thought later when she was a little less preoccupied.

It was Ben who was wearing the frown now as he returned his attention to Emma’s laptop. Emma watched him work his own magic tapping away at her keyboard. He was too deep in concentration to notice that she was staring at him. ‘Voila!’ he said after a couple of minutes of concentrated effort. He turned the screen back towards Emma to show her that he had miraculously connected to the Internet.

‘How did you do that, or shouldn’t I ask?’

‘I’ve got a wireless connection upstairs. Well, technically, Steven has, but he won’t mind. I’ve logged you onto the network, so you’re in!’

Emma felt a pang of guilt as she was reminded that Ben and Steven had become the new residents of the flat above the bistro whilst her sister was now technically homeless. She briefly toyed with the idea of trying to persuade Ben to squeeze in another lodger who also happened to be his landlady but she reined in her predilection for solving other people’s problems and returned her attention to the problem at hand. ‘Now what?’ she asked.

‘The Traveller’s Rest is aptly named in my case. Here, let me take you on a journey of discovery.’

Ben had logged into a photo-gallery site to access his online photo albums. Emma braced herself to be bored to tears by a collection of holiday snaps of drunken friends with cheesy grins and bottles of beer, posing in front of an assortment of bars or sprawled across nondescript beaches.

‘New York!’ she gasped. Even with her limited experience she recognized the Manhattan skyline.

‘Apparently, the design of the Statue of Liberty was based on the Colossus of Rhodes, which was another one of the Seven Wonders of the World.’

Emma was too engrossed in the photographs she was flicking through to be impressed with the wealth of Ben’s knowledge, which he was determined to share. ‘These are amazing.’

And they were. His collection of photographs marked a journey that had stretched to all four corners of the globe. They were a mixture of panoramic views and colourful close-ups, breathtaking scenery, wildlife in motion and wizened locals, all taken with the kind of precision that needed an artist’s eye to choose the right lighting, the right focus and the right moment. They were photographs that wouldn’t look out of place in National Geographic magazine.

‘I was a bit of a photography geek for a while.’

‘You should take it up professionally,’ Emma told him.

Ben shrugged off the suggestion. ‘It came in useful during my travels but it was only ever my second love. My first love is food.’

Emma was starting to warm up at last, so she shrugged off her coat and settled back in her seat as she turned her attention to Ben’s life. ‘But you could really make something of your life,’ she insisted, all thoughts of not interfering long gone.

‘I am making something of my life,’ corrected Ben. He tried to look offended but the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth gave him away. ‘I travelled the world to discover new cuisines. Now don’t laugh, but goat’s cheese and chutneys are my speciality. I’m experimenting for now but my long-term plan is to go into partnership with a farm and sell my own produce.’

‘But …’ began Emma.

‘But we were sorting out your life, not mine,’ he said.

Emma nodded obediently, having the good grace to let Ben keep his own dreams. ‘You’re right. I’ll have a proper look at your photos. Seeing the world through your eyes is better than not seeing it at all and I suppose there’s always Google Earth.’

‘How about a trip to the museum? It’s not exactly travelling the world but it has to be better than relying on a computer for all your inspiration. The World Museum has tons of exhibits that might give you more ideas. You can take a notebook and I’ll take my camera.’ The enthusiasm in Ben’s voice was being exaggerated to make up for the lack of reaction from Emma.

‘I’m not sure,’ Emma replied, not quite knowing why she was unsure or at least not acknowledging that it was more than Ben’s offer attracting her.

‘OK, I won’t push but if you’re at a loose end on Sunday, give me a shout.’

‘Thank you, Ben,’ Emma said, and she felt her heart lighten a little.

‘Any time,’ he said with a wink.

‘Any time except maybe now,’ added Emma. Louise had appeared and was busily looking for her wayward chef. Dutifully, Ben disappeared back into the kitchen and as Louise made her way over to join her sister, Emma felt ready to face a world where she would choose her own wonders at which to marvel.