Another Way to Fall (7 page)

‘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.’