Another Way to Fall (9 page)

I had to stop myself from standing up and applauding her. When I looked at Alex, his jaw had dropped and his champagne flute was tipping sideways, threatening to spill. I suspected it was the look on my face that knocked him back to his senses. ‘Emma?’ he asked.

‘I’m no fool,’ I confirmed.

Emma’s hands trembled over the keyboard but it wasn’t only because of the emotion pumping through her body. She was also very, very cold. She was sitting out on the balcony and, even though she was wrapped up in layers of clothing and blankets, her fingers had to remain uncovered so that she could type and they were starting to go numb. She tried to ignore the cold as she read back what she had just written. It was as if she was reading her words for the first time and she was shocked to see her innermost thoughts revealed. They were laced with regrets, resentments and a long-forgotten recognition of her own abilities. There was something in the written word that Emma knew she should take to heart and not leave to fade on the printed page.

Shivering uncontrollably, Emma rubbed her hands together then tried to warm them on the sides of her mug, but the coffee was as cold as she was. December had whipped away not only the warmth but the colour from the world with its harsh winds. The steel balcony was painted black and frozen raindrops gave the handrails a pebble-dashed effect. Below her, the river looked murky, the buildings in the distance fading to shades of grey, the furthest blending seamlessly with the lifeless sky, which had already erased the hills and mountains that Emma was so often drawn to.

Reluctantly, Emma picked up her laptop and, dragging her blankets behind her, slipped back into the apartment, which was deathly silent. It was Saturday but her mum was still working hard to catch up on the time she had lost while she was at the hospital with Emma. Emma didn’t object; in fact, she was happy to be left to her own devices.

Her writing was going well and it was helping to put her in the right frame of mind for her date with Alex. Their relationship had been put to the test in recent weeks and the results were far from promising. She had discovered a newfound confidence in herself and she hoped it wouldn’t be eroded by the time evening came.

Emma retreated to her bedroom, where the yellow walls were only marginally better than the grey world outside. The only splash of colour in the room came from a series of framed photos, an eclectic mix of family snaps frozen in time. One was a four-year-old Emma holding a precious new sister in her arms, another was of the two girls with their arms wrapped around each other with matching cheesy grins. Although none held images of her father, there were one or two where Emma imagined him there, on the other side of the lens. She thought of him as little as she could but as her relationship with Alex stumbled on, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was the root cause to her distinctly low expectations in men. Her parents’ marriage had survived through her childhood but her father’s presence even then had been debateable. Home had been a place he went to when there was nowhere better to be. He had walked out of the family home once Louise had reached sixteen and then completely out of their lives two years later without a backward glance, not even when his firstborn was fighting for her life.

Emma took a deep breath as she tried to dispel the ghosts of the past. She had a feeling her heart would remain frozen, which didn’t bode well for Alex.

The Traveller’s Rest had been an obvious choice for Emma’s dinner date with Alex. She wanted some reasurance that business wasn’t as dire as it had appeared the day before, but that wasn’t the only reason. She wasn’t sure how the evening would fare and she wanted to be close to family and friends if it ended badly. Surprisingly, however, she was going to have to make do with friends and not family. Louise had chosen to stay away and was spending the evening at the apartment where no doubt she and her mum would be putting Emma’s world to rights.

The gentle chatter of customers, broken by the occasional clatter of plates or burst of laughter, gave the place a welcoming atmosphere, and the windows to the front of the restaurant reflected the warm light of the interior against the impenetrable blackness of the night beyond. Emma felt cocooned and safe as she sat with Alex in a discreet corner. Their table was draped in shadows that flickered in the candle-light, giving, Emma thought, Alex a demonic glow, but she pushed it to the back of her mind. She told herself that she needed to give their relationship a chance. There was a part of her that wasn’t ready to go it alone, not now.

‘How about some wine?’ Alex said, reaching for the wine list.

Emma shook her head. ‘Sparkling water for me, I think. I don’t want alcohol reacting with my medication.’

‘No, of course you don’t,’ agreed Alex. ‘Then I won’t either.’

Emma smiled at Alex’s chivalry but the moment was short-lived.

‘Well, maybe just a beer,’ he added as the waiter appeared at their table, notepad at the ready. If he recognized Steven from previous visits, he didn’t let on, even when Emma greeted him like the friend he was.

‘Are you ever away from this place?’ she asked with a raised eyebrow.

‘No, not really,’ Stephen said, lifting his gaze to the ceiling and the apartment above. ‘I don’t even think I’ve got a coat any more.’

They shared the joke but Alex was at a loss. He had never taken much interest in her sister or the bistro.

Emma placed the order for drinks and, when Steven confirmed that Ben was on kitchen duty, she left it to them to choose the food. Alex shrugged his agreement – he seemed less enthusiastic about leaving such a decision to the staff but clearly felt obliged to agree. The only interest he had ever shown in the bistro was the healthy discount Emma received on the bill. She swallowed back her disappointment as she realised that Alex would never appreciate how much affection and care went into the meals prepared on her account. He seemed incapable of understanding that level of sentiment so Emma didn’t even try.

‘Could we have some bread and olives while we’re waiting?’ he asked.

‘Goes without saying,’ Steven said, with a wink to Emma before he left.

Alex sat back in his chair and looked Emma up and down. ‘I still can’t believe it,’ he began, shaking his head. ‘You look amazing.’

‘What?’ asked Emma playfully in an attempt to divert the conversation from the state of her health, ‘you can’t believe how lucky you are to have such a gorgeous girlfriend?’

Alex wouldn’t be distracted. ‘I can’t believe you’re so ill.’

‘Would it make you feel better if I looked like I was dying?’ she replied, her words full of hurt. The truth was that when she had looked in the mirror before Alex picked her up from the apartment, she had seen a beautiful young woman staring back at her. She had dressed up in all her finery for the first time since leaving hospital. Her complexion had improved in the last week and her hair was in better condition and set in soft flowing curls that covered her head wound. The dark circles under her eyes had started to fade and she could almost convince herself that her eyes sparkled. She would even go as far as to say she felt alive.

‘I’m sorry. I just mean it’s hard for me too. I don’t know what to expect.’

‘I know it’s hard and it’s going to get harder,’ began Emma, forcing herself to be kind. ‘And the time will come when I will look ill, very ill, and I’m afraid that time will come sooner than anyone wants, especially me.’ The words stung, not least because Emma wanted to be the one hearing words of comfort and support, not having to cajole others into staying the distance with her.

There was a long silence and when Steven appeared with their drinks and nibbles he picked up on the growing tension and disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived. Alex took a long swig of beer as Emma poured a glass of water for herself.

‘Tell me what I’m missing at work,’ she asked in desperation for something easier to talk about.

Alex launched into a lengthy diatribe about all the work he had to do, how Jennifer was doing her best but was mostly in awe of what was involved, having no experience of running any office, least of all her father’s, and how it was quite tense at times. He was also at pains to tell her how Gina was being cool with them both to the point of being obstructive, and generally how he was running the place singlehandedly. It wasn’t long before he revealed the plan he had been alluding to. He suggested that while Emma had relative health, she should make the most of it and spend more time, if not in the office, then at least working on some of the projects. It would give her something positive to focus on, he told her. It would be for her own good.

For her own good, Emma ignored his brazen attempts to manipulate her and zoned out. She stared down at her drink, on the table, watching the bubbles in her water sprint to the surface. She was concentrating as much on holding back the tears as she was on the glass and at first she didn’t notice her heart pick up a beat, not until the warm glow of her surroundings began to make her feel clammy. The warning signs of an imminent seizure were all too familiar and she sensed the darkness that resided in the corner of her vision extend beyond the periphery. She looked around in panic, her eyes drawn to the large windows, which no longer reflected flickering candlelight but looked out onto a sheet of blackness that was pierced with a thousand lights, each one of which twinkled conspiratorially. New York stretched out as far as the eye could see.

Emma gasped as her heart thudded hard against her chest and, with a blink of her eye, the image had gone. She turned back to Alex but for a confused moment she was surprised to see only him. She looked around expectantly for a slender, sophisticated figure with blonde hair pulled back in a taught French bun.

‘Emma? For God’s sake, Emma, what’s wrong?’ There was genuine fear in Alex’s voice. It trembled almost as much as Emma.

Emma’s mouth was completely dry as she tried to lick her lips. She looked at the water in front of her but didn’t feel composed enough to pick up the glass safely.

‘What did you mean?’ persisted Alex.

Emma frowned in concentration as she tried to control her breathing and slow her heart rate. Eventually, she picked up the water and took a tentative sip. Her drink had an unexpected and not immediately recognisable taste as the bubbles burst on her tongue. Even when she did recognize the flavour, it made no sense and so she took another sip. This time there was no trace of champagne tickling her taste buds. It wasn’t one of the usual aftereffects of a seizure but she was certain she had just experienced one. ‘Why, what did I say?’ she asked. She couldn’t remember, she could only remember feeling clammy.

‘You said something about being a fool but you sounded weird. You looked weird.’

When Emma saw the expression on Alex’s face she could read it as easily as she could read words on a page. He was horrified at the monster his girlfriend had become. She wanted to tell him that the real monster was hidden from view as it burrowed its way into her head and into her life but she didn’t waste her breath.

‘I don’t remember but I’m guessing I actually said that I’m no fool,’ Emma said. The sound of her written words spoken out loud brought such a relief that she could barely hold back an impulse to laugh. ‘I don’t have time for this. I’m sorry. You’re on your own now, Alex.’

Alex stared at Emma, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘But you need me,’ he said.

‘You are the last thing I need, Alex, and I want you to leave. Please. Right now.’

‘Two very delicious Salmon Teriyaki,’ announced Steven, making Alex jump.

‘Alex isn’t staying,’ Emma told Steven. ‘Take his meal back to the kitchen.’ If there was a tremor in her voice it was only an aftershock from her seizure. Emma’s composure was as cool as the atmosphere that had descended in their little corner of the bistro.

‘Not a problem,’ Steven said as he placed one plate in front of Emma, turned in one smooth move and headed back to the kitchen carrying the other.

By the time Ben arrived at the table, Alex had vanished.

‘My compliments to the chef,’ Emma said, licking her fingers. ‘The salmon is delicious.’

Ben wasn’t about to be fooled by false bravado. ‘Are you alright?’

‘I’m fine,’ she said with a note of steely determination. ‘Alex had to leave, that’s all. I’m going to finish my dinner and then head off home.’

Emma wasn’t ready to tell the world that Alex was no longer her leading man. She especially wasn’t ready to tell her family, and Ben was an extended part of that. Her visit to the office and outpouring into her book had been the catalyst for a breakup that had been brewing for a long time but it wasn’t over yet. Her emotions were still rattling around inside her head and she would tell no-one how she felt until she knew herself.

‘I’m stuck in the kitchen but I’ll get Steven to take you home. We can manage without him for an hour. Unless you want me to phone your mum?’

‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was almost a threat.’

‘As if anyone could manipulate you, Emma Patterson,’ Ben said, holding up his hands in all innocence.

Emma shrugged. ‘Maybe once, but not any more.’

Ben was torn between staying and returning to the kitchen, which demanded his attention. Emma could read his mind.

‘Go! I think I can smell burning,’ Emma insisted with a smile that took all of her strength to maintain. ‘And tell Steven I’m ready whenever he is.’

As Ben stood up, he took one more look at Emma. ‘That offer still stands if you fancy going to the museum tomorrow.’

‘I’ll see how I feel,’ Emma said, not knowing how she would feel, physically or emotionally.

‘Well, if you ask me, you’re looking pretty amazing tonight.’

Emma’s smile came naturally but it was tinged with sadness. ‘So I’ve been told,’ she said as she remembered Alex’s fumbled and backhanded compliment. From Ben, it sounded genuine. ‘Now go before we need to call the fire brigade.’

Emma watched Ben disappear back into the kitchen, rubbing his face as he went as though his cheeks were burning as much as the meals he had abandoned.