Another Way to Fall (29 page)

‘Where is everyone?’ Emma asked.

‘Emergency meeting in the kitchen,’ Isabel said, tearing a completed order from her pad. ‘Here, take this in for me and tell them to either start sending food out now or at least send someone out to explain why not.’

Emma headed for the kitchen and could hear a clamour of voices before she had even opened the door.

‘Cottage pie? Who’s going to be impressed with cottage pie?’ yelped Louise, pulling at her hair. She was leaning over one of the counters, tapping her pen viciously against the stainless-steel surface. Ben, Steven, Iris and Jean were crowded around her, looking intently at the scraps of paper littering the counter.

‘It kept my family fed for generations,’ muttered Iris, clearly offended.

‘But the whole point of a Specials Board is about making it special.’ Louise picked up the scrap of paper they had all been looking at and turned it face down.

‘Steven’s been experimenting with some new dishes? Why don’t we try one of those?’

‘How about because Steven’s not a chef?’

‘Yet,’ Ben added before Steven could register the hurt.

Steven didn’t look hurt. ‘May I remind you that you might be my landlady but you’re also my lodger now. You need to watch what you say,’ he told Louise.

The group held their breath as they waited for the counterattack. They had yet to notice Emma’s arrival and she felt odd, as if she was standing on the outside looking into a world in which she didn’t belong any more.

‘And may I remind you that down here, I’m the boss,’ Louise was saying.

Emma watched Louise and Steven intently as they traded threats. There was a certain frisson between the two, which boded well for the future that she had envisioned for them, but there would be no more interference. She didn’t need to; they would find their own path in their own time. The feeling that she was witnessing the life that would continue after she was gone persisted. ‘Am I missing something?’ she asked. The sound of her voice had a solid presence that brought her back into the room.

Five faces turned towards her but it was Louise who spoke first. ‘According to insider knowledge,’ she said, tipping her head towards Steven, ‘Derek Watkinson is coming to review the bistro, here, tonight.’ Emma thought she detected a subtle wince as her sister said the man’s name out loud.

‘
The
Derek Watkinson?’ Emma asked, hardly believing her ears. ‘The very same Derek Watkinson who published that awful review last year? Here’s a suggestion, let me cook for him and I’ll give him a meal he won’t forget in a hurry.’

‘How did the meeting go?’ Ben asked. Of everyone, he was the only one who didn’t appear to be panicking.

‘Oh, my God, yes, sorry, Emma. How did it go? I need to know.’ Louise crossed the kitchen, a cloud of discarded notes trailing in her wake.

‘It went fine. Better than I expected but we can catch up later. I think I’d better head home in case I do something I regret with the darling Mr Watkinson’s food.’

‘No, Emma,’ cried Louise. ‘I need you.’

‘Louise, you’ll be fine, really you will.’

‘I’ll give you a lift,’ Ben said, moving towards Emma, without waiting for a reply.

Emma heard a sharp intake of breath from Louise but she didn’t give voice to her objection, Emma beat her to it. ‘No,’ Emma told Ben firmly. ‘You’re needed here. I’ll get a taxi. No more argument.’

Ben kissed her cheek. ‘I know you’re right, you always are. But don’t you need to talk things through?’

Emma was already stepping back towards the door. ‘I need to gather my thoughts first and you lot need to agree the menu. And don’t leave poor Isabel out there all on her own.’ Emma handed the waitress’s order to Ben then turned and left before anyone could object.

As she sat in the back of the taxi cab, she was struggling against an overwhelming desire not only to cry but to sob uncontrollably. She was convinced that if she let the first tear fall she would never be able to stop. She couldn’t quite shake the sensation she’d had as she stood watching the others in the kitchen. It was as if she were a ghost already and her sense of isolation intensified. She was heading home to an empty apartment and for once she didn’t want space, she wanted company. It would be a couple of hours before her mum arrived home and until then Emma needed to find a place she could feel secure and safe.

There was a sharp intake of breath as another contraction rippled across my abdomen but I was otherwise calm. I still couldn’t quite believe that there was something amazing growing inside me, something that for once hadn’t been a hostile invasion. I had nothing to fight against and everything to fight for. I would endure the pain that arced across my midriff, knowing that soon I would be able to hold our baby in my arms.

Resting my head on the back of the garden chair, I gently rocked back and forth, letting the last rays of a summer’s day warm my face. I could hear the soothing chime of goat bells in the distance and the sweet smell of jasmine wrapped around me like a comfort blanket. My idyllic labour was blighted only by my husband who was frantically running around like a man possessed.

‘Should it be taking this long?’ he asked the midwife who had arrived two hours earlier and was as laid back as I was, much to Ben’s frustration.

‘It’ll take as long as it takes,’ she assured him. ‘Now get back into the house and make us all a nice cup of tea to calm our nerves.’

‘I don’t really want a cuppa,’ I told her once he’d disappeared.

‘Me neither,’ she said, patting me on the hand before leaving me in peace with my thoughts.

I wanted to cry with joy. I had denied myself this dream for so long, believing that my cancer had taken it away. I had buried my longing to be a mother so deeply it had taken nine months to reacquaint myself with something that came naturally to me. A desire to nurture.

I could remember the exact moment I decided I wanted to be a mother above all else. I was four years old at the time and had been resting my head on my mum’s stomach, which had swelled to mammoth proportions as my baby sister (or brother) grew inside her. I held my ear against her taught abdomen and convinced myself I could hear the baby gurgling and laughing inside her. I had turned to face my mum to tell her, expecting her to laugh too, but there was no smile to greet me, only tears rolling down her cheeks. I had been so scared, not knowing what was making her so sad, frightened that she didn’t want the baby. After Louise was born, that fear never left me and I watched over my sister like a mother hen.

I still wonder to this day what had made my mother cry. Had it been the sacrifices she had made for her children, the career that she was unable to secure for herself whilst her husband convinced her to remain barefoot and pregnant? In giving life to us, had she felt that she was losing her own sense of self? I too had been forced to make choices. I resigned from my job because it was clear, even before Kate had spelled it out to me, that I couldn’t have everything. I could juggle my time between my family and my job but I would do justice to neither. I had to choose, but in the end there was no sacrifice. My job at Alsop and Clover was not my life, my family was. But Kate had been wrong. I could have it all; I simply had to work out how I could have it all in one place.

Emma turned off her computer and leaned back against her pillows. Daylight had silently receded as she concentrated on her writing and her room was shrouded in deep shadow. The excitement she had tried to conjure in her story was quickly overwhelmed by dark reality. She felt exhausted and not just physically.

For years, Emma had been preparing for a showdown with her dad and now that it had happened she didn’t quite know how to feel. But before her mood could plummet any further, there was a distant jangle of keys. She tried to imagine that it was the tinkling of goat bells and not her mum arriving home but a moment later Meg popped her head around the door, dispelling the image that Emma was trying to hold onto.

‘What are you doing sitting in the dark?’ she asked. ‘Are you OK? Do you need anything?’ With each question, Meg’s voice had increased in anxiety.

‘Mum, I’m fine,’ Emma assured her. ‘I was too lazy to get up and close the blind, that’s all.’

‘Tired?’

‘That’s an understatement. And well done you by the way,’ Emma added.

Meg smiled as she stepped across the threshold and turned on a lamp before going to the window to shut out the darkness. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Yes, you do. Well done for containing your curiosity and not bombarding me with texts and phone calls all afternoon.’ Whilst everyone at the bistro had been distracted, she knew at least her mum would be desperate to know the details. ‘Have you got time for a chat?’ Emma asked, patting the empty space next to her.

Meg practically leapt onto the bed. ‘Of course I have. It’s Friday night, what else would I rather do than spend time with my daughter? So, what would you like to talk about?’ she asked, still the image of innocence, much to Emma’s amusement.

‘I don’t know. What would you like to talk about?’ She laughed.

‘We could always talk about the latest crisis at the bistro.’

‘Ah, you heard about that. So you haven’t been totally incommunicado.’

‘OK, I give in. Put me out of my misery. Did you get the answers you wanted?’ Meg asked, her tone more serious as she took Emma’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze.

‘They certainly weren’t the answers I was expecting. I think he was trying to tell me that he didn’t know how to be a dad until it was too late.’

‘And is it too late?’ Meg asked diplomatically.

‘For me, yes. I’ve told him I don’t want to see him any more; I don’t need to. He doesn’t get the chance to make up for lost time.’

‘And you’re alright with that?’

‘I don’t have a choice. Time isn’t on my side,’ Emma answered. She felt her mum’s grip on her hand tighten. ‘If nothing else, I’m glad I got to meet Olivia and Amy.’

‘His daughters?’ asked Meg.

‘My sisters,’ corrected Emma, looking towards her mum to check how she was dealing with the idea that her ex-husband had a new family. Meg gave her a weak but otherwise brave smile.

‘So what did they think of their new big sister?’

‘I don’t think it takes much to impress a three-and a five-year-old,’ Emma replied with a wry smile as she pictured the two little girls looking at her as if she would sprout angel wings there and then. ‘They were so sweet, Mum,’ she continued, and her voice cracked with emotions that had crept up on her without warning.

Meg didn’t speak but waited patiently for Emma to compose herself. It took some time. ‘I know I’ve said it before but it really isn’t fair. When I saw those gorgeous little girls, I couldn’t help thinking, why does he deserve to be a parent and I don’t?’

Emma was determined not to cry but as she laid her head on her mum’s shoulder she could feel her tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

‘Maybe one day …’ Meg began but then stopped herself. ‘You’re right, sweetheart, life isn’t fair.’

Emma felt her mum’s body tensing and she knew she was trying to hold back her own tears. The threat of the conversation degenerating into communal hysteria was enough to jolt Emma out of her desolate mood. She took a deep breath and lifted her head as she tried to focus on the things she could achieve and not those that were forever out of reach. She picked up her laptop and switched it on. ‘I think it’s about time I told you a little bit more about my book,’ she began.

‘I was wondering when I’d get to see it. I’ve been watching you and Ben poring over your computer as thick as thieves and I was starting to feel left out.’

‘I’m sorry, Mum. You are alright with Ben being here, aren’t you?’

Meg smiled. It was more genuine this time. ‘Of course I am. I can see how happy you are together and how much he’s helping you. I have no complaints. Now, enough delaying tactics.’ She was looking expectantly as the first pages of Emma’s alternative life came into view.

‘This is a way for me to experience some of the things that real life can never give me,’ Emma explained. ‘One of the reasons I haven’t shared it with you is because I wasn’t sure you were ready to accept that. I didn’t want to tell you only for you to dismiss it and tell me, to use your words, “Maybe one day …”’

‘If it makes you happy, then I won’t dismiss it,’ replied Meg, taking her position firmly on the fence. ‘And I’ll help any way I can.’ She put her arm around Emma as she watched her tap away at her computer until her most recent entry appeared on screen.

Emma took a deep breath, knowing that what she was about to reveal might not be easy for her mum to read. ‘It’s not only about the things that I would want in my life, it’s turned into a bit of a reflection about the past as well. I think you’d better read this part.’

Meg scanned through the pages, the silence occasionally broken by the sound of a sob being swallowed back. When her focus remained on one particular passage, Emma knew it was time to ask the question: ‘Why were you crying, Mum?’

Meg was silent for a while longer and her lip trembled. ‘It wasn’t because I didn’t want Louise.’

Emma waited but Meg clearly wasn’t ready to share the answer without further prompting. ‘Please, Mum. I need to know.’

Meg stood up and stepped over to the window. Despite the closed blinds, the view was so captivating that she didn’t turn to face Emma as she spoke. ‘I was crying for you, Emma. I was crying for the guilt I felt then and carry with me still.’

‘What guilt?’ Emma asked. She was beginning to regret pushing her mum, not ready to hear another parent’s confessions.

‘You know you weren’t planned. Having children was something that I intended to think about later in my life, much later. When I found out I was pregnant, I wasn’t going to keep it. You, I wasn’t going to keep you.’

‘And why didn’t you have an abortion?’

‘Because, eventually, I realized that I wanted you more than I wanted the law degree.’

Emma’s hand flew to her mouth but it wasn’t with horror, it was with relief. When her mum chanced a look over towards her, Emma had dropped her hand to reveal a smile. ‘Thank God for that.’