Another Way to Fall. Amanda Brooke

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СКАЧАТЬ treatment we can offer you, there will always be choices.’

      ‘Quality versus quantity, by any chance?’ asked Emma.

      ‘Yes, I’m afraid in my business, it often comes down to that.’

      ‘It’s not only me I have to consider though,’ she said with a sigh of resignation. ‘I have to do what’s best for other people.’

      The doctor gave Emma a stern look. ‘You have to do what’s best for you, Emma. What helps the people you love in the end is knowing that you got to do what you wanted.’

      ‘In that case, I want to see Paris in springtime, stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon and stroll through the Valley of the Kings,’ Emma quipped. Mr Spelling didn’t respond other than to raise an eyebrow and she held up her hands in surrender. This was not the time for smart remarks and Emma’s heart quickened as the words to her next question formed in her mind. ‘Are you really telling me I can call it a day now?’ Her tone remained light but, in Emma’s mind, a serious temptation was taking hold.

      ‘You have choices,’ repeated Mr Spelling sagely.

      Emma was briefly lifted at the thought of bringing her treatment to an abrupt and total end, but then she let her body sag. ‘Then my choice is to make my family happy. My mum’s not ready to give up yet, so neither am I. I don’t want to be responsible for breaking her heart, not if I can help it.’

      ‘Then I’ll support your decision one hundred per cent,’ replied Mr Spelling with an unreadable poker face.

      ‘I suppose my next challenge is to build up my strength so I’m ready to take whatever you can throw at me. If memory serves, you don’t do things by half measures.’

      ‘And neither do you. It will be a tough fight, I won’t deny that,’ he agreed. ‘So is there anything else you need to know while we’ve got the chance?’ He had also recognized that the conversation would be quite different if Meg had been there.

      ‘No, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time,’ she told him, fearful that if the debate continued about her treatment plan she might just change her mind, but Mr Spelling didn’t seem ready to leave. The smile had slipped and he had a look of sadness on his face that Emma was finding all too familiar. She felt obliged to ease his pain. ‘Can you keep a secret?’ she asked.

      ‘Trust me, I’m a doctor,’ Mr Spelling said, his eyes brightening with interest.

      ‘In the story I’m writing, I survive this thing.’

      ‘Would this be the book you want to finish?’

      Emma nodded. Her book was another reason she had to fight, for time at least. She’d had many visitors over the weekend, her closest friends and family with the notable exception of Alex, and all of them had heard that she had started to write. Every single person had tried to find out more about what exactly she was writing but so far Emma had remained tight-lipped. She wasn’t prepared to share her flight of fancy, unsure if she was ready for their judgement, but Mr Spelling was different. She could trust him with her life.

      ‘Yes, and my biggest problem will be how to fill that life I have in front of me.’

      ‘So tell me, do I play my part in your story or have you discovered that doctor with the sharper knives?’

      ‘You give me the all clear,’ she assured him.

      ‘Good. I like a happy ending.’

      ‘Ending?’ Emma laughed. ‘Oh, no, that’s just the beginning. Cancer is not the sum of my life, I am,’ she said firmly. ‘My story begins with me getting the all clear, an alternative to what happened last week really. Another life.’

      ‘Your life as you would want it to be,’ observed Mr Spelling.

      Emma smiled, liking the description. ‘Yes, but I’ve already hit a hurdle. I haven’t got a clue what I would want if I could have anything!’

      ‘Springtime in Paris? Walking through the Valley of the Kings?’ Mr Spelling reminded her.

      ‘They’re certainly pretty snapshots from an interesting and varied life but I still need to add more depth to my story and the truth is, I don’t have any great ambitions, not any more.’ Emma sensed she was talking herself out of writing her book. Her tumour was about to take away the last of her dreams.

      ‘Any more?’ So you had ambitions once? You hold such power at your fingertips, Emma,’ he said, taking hold of her hand and looking at it. When he looked up at her again there was a shadow of regret in his eyes. ‘Just think, you have far more control over your destiny than any doctor. Your hopes and dreams are still there waiting to be handed to you on a plate.’

      ‘Or off a shopkeeper’s shelf.’

      Mr Spelling shrugged his shoulders. ‘You say tomato, I say tom-A-to,’ he said.

      ‘In New York, I think they say tom-A-to,’ Emma said with a surge of enthusiasm. ‘Mr Spelling, I do believe you’ve just given me the inspiration I needed.’

       I was still dangling my right foot in midair as I pondered my next step but then I looked up and was met with an encouraging smile from the kindly shopkeeper. I forgot all about my feet.

       ‘So, what would you like first?’ he asked, tipping his head towards the shelves of boxes that were lined up behind him where the hospital car park should have been.

       My heart quickened as I realized that everything I could possibly want was within easy reach. ‘I … I don’t know where to begin,’ I said.

       ‘Don’t worry, I have a reputation for being able to size up my customers and I sense that what you want most is a purpose in life, something with a bit of a challenge. How about we make a start with your dream job?’

       ‘I had that once.’

       ‘Then you shall have it again,’ he replied, sweeping a brightly coloured box off a nearby shelf. It shone with promise. ‘But if you don’t mind, I’ve made some improvements.’

       I didn’t need to ask what he meant. The colour of the box reminded me of a juicy green apple or, more precisely, the Big Apple, and I couldn’t wait to begin peeling away its skin to take a closer look.

       With my career sorted, the shopkeeper naturally wanted to know what romantic aspirations I had. He looked me up and down, fingers curled around his chin. ‘Is Alex good enough for you?’ he asked sceptically.

       I wrinkled my nose as he pointed to a shelf full of various other options, an enticing row of boxes in eye-catching gift wrap. ‘Not if you ask my friends and I have to admit that I had been contemplating moving to London and was expecting to have to make the break but … well, I still think there’s some potential there,’ I told him. I wasn’t ready to start my life from scratch and I didn’t have to. I could work with what I had and even make a few of my own modifications.

       ‘I’ll leave that one in your hands then but your decision isn’t binding. I can do a good deal when you’re ready for a trade-in.’

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