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