Another Way to Fall. Amanda Brooke

‘I want what’s best for you and only you,’ he told me earnestly. ‘It doesn’t matter where you are, I’ll always support you. You can count on me.’

      ‘Are you ready, Em?’ The voice was familiar but held a note of trepidation that would be out of place anywhere except perhaps an oncology ward.

      Louise’s face had the same shadow of fear across it as her own but that was where the similarity ended. Louise was a complete contrast to her sister, taking after their dad’s side of the family. Emma coveted her blue eyes and the blonde hair falling poker-straight halfway down her back, not to mention her body, which was the picture of health. What she didn’t envy was the weight of responsibility that would be placed on her little sister’s shoulders. Louise wouldn’t only have to stand on her own feet as her mum had said, she would need to be strong enough to keep the family together if the worst happened. One of Emma’s legacies would have to be preparing Louise for the task. Judging by her red and swollen eyes, Emma suspected that she was asking too much of Louise, but there really was no choice.

      ‘I have to wait for my prescription but other than that, I’m ready to go,’ Emma replied. Even the sudden surge of enthusiasm to write couldn’t delay her further. She eagerly closed down her laptop before slipping it into an oversize holdall, which was already crammed full of all the detritus of her latest hospital stay.

      ‘Shall I take that?’

      ‘I can manage,’ Emma said. She wouldn't play the part of helpless patient any longer than necessary but as she stood up, her determination faltered. The dizzy spell was more of a ripple than a wave so she did her best to hide it, taking longer than needed to pack up the last of her things.

      ‘Did you bring my jacket?’ Emma asked, thinking about the rain that was still coming down hard.

      ‘Oh, no. Sorry, Em, I didn’t think. Here, take mine.’

      Louise had already begun to take off her coat but Emma stopped her in her tracks with a warning glare. She was still the older sister, which gave her an air of authority that she would cling onto until the bitter end. Louise raised an eyebrow in defiance but then shrugged her coat back on and as she did so, her eyes were drawn to something or someone behind Emma. She began to suppress a smile.

      When Emma turned around, Peter was standing behind her. He had collected Emma’s medication, a cocktail of anti-seizure drugs, steroids and painkillers that would hopefully keep the tumour and its symptoms at bay in the weeks running up to her treatment. They were piled up high on the seat of a wheelchair. ‘That thing had better not be for me,’ she growled.

      Peter was about to answer but Louise cut him short. ‘Don’t even try. You won’t get her to use it.’

      Peter and Emma locked eyes. ‘OK, I give in,’ he said, having stood his ground for only a fraction of a second.

      ‘I tell you what,’ offered Emma. ‘We can use the wheelchair to carry all of my stuff to the car. In the meantime, you can have a quick break and collect it from the entrance in, say, ten minutes.’

      ‘If there was an element of compromise in there, then I think I missed it,’ he told her but, keen to take advantage of an impromptu break, didn’t argue.

      With a few brief goodbyes to staff and patients alike, Emma and Louise meandered through the hospital towards the main exit. ‘You are alright about moving out of Mum’s, aren’t you?’ Emma asked. They had already had the same discussion over the weekend but Emma suspected that her sister had barely taken anything in, the news that the cancer was back was still sinking in.

      ‘Of course I am and I have a long list of friends offering to put me up. I’ll be fine, honest,’ Louise told her.

      ‘If I’d known this was going to happen, I would never have convinced you to rent out the apartment above the bistro.’

      ‘And if I had known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have depended on you so much to get me back on my feet after Joe and I split up.’

      The breakup of Louise’s relationship had been a double whammy because Joe was also her business partner. He had been the head chef whilst Louise provided the front-of-house service and the bistro had been going from strength to strength. Joe had walked out on her just over a year ago and it had been Emma who had convinced her to go it alone.

      This had all happened around the time that Emma had been overlooked for the marketing job at Bannister’s and she had been keen to concentrate her efforts on the bistro, where she knew she would be appreciated. It also allowed her bruised ego time to heal. Louise had bought Joe out with a substantial investment from her mum and she had eventually found a new head chef. Emma’s involvement had begun to dwindle when she started going out with Alex but she was still called upon to firefight now and again. The cash-flow problems that had resulted in Louise renting out her flat only served to prove that she wasn’t quite ready to go it alone.

      ‘What I wouldn’t give for a crystal ball right now,’ mused Emma as the main exit doors came into view. ‘But don’t think for a minute I’m going to spend all my time at Mum’s with my feet up.’

      Louise took her eyes from the wheelchair she was trying to manoeuvre and checked Emma’s expression. ‘You’re not thinking of going back to work are you?’

      Emma looked sheepish, as if she was still considering the possibility. ‘I need more in my life than hospital appointments. I need a purpose, I always will,’ she said with a smile as she realized that her kindly shopkeeper would say the same thing.

      ‘But …’ began Louise as she narrowly averted ramming the wheelchair into the back of an old man who had been walking down the corridor at a more sedate pace.

      ‘Don’t worry, even I think it would be a bit too much to go back to Bannister’s but there’s nothing to stop me interfering in your business.’

      ‘Yes, there is,’ Louise corrected.

      Emma knew her mum would do her utmost to prevent her from exerting herself. ‘We’ll see,’ she said as they hit fresh air.

      They came to a halt beneath a wide canopy, which gave some protection from the elements. The rain was thundering against the roof above their heads but it was music to Emma’s ears. The damp taste of freedom on her tongue felt fresh and revitalizing. She was about to ask Louise where she had parked when a car beeped its horn, making Emma jump in fright, as much by an alarming sense of déjà vu as by the sound itself.

      When Emma’s heart stopped pounding, a strange silence descended. It wasn’t complete – she could still hear the wind whistling around her – but it was the absence of one particular noise that drew her attention. The rain had stopped abruptly and as Emma looked up, the sunshine breaking through the cloud was blinding. She squeezed her eyes shut but as she did so, she caught a glimpse of what could be snowflakes falling around her. She blinked against the sunlight to take a better look. It wasn’t snowflakes in front of her eyes but tiny pieces of white card. Emma knew that if she gathered them up and glued them back together, she would find herself in the possession of a dog-eared appointment card. A shiver shot down her spine and she grabbed at her jacket to wrap it tightly around her but she couldn’t make purchase with the material and she began to panic.

      ‘Emma, are you alright?’ Louise asked, putting her hand on one of Emma’s flailing arms.

      Emma blinked and the noise of the rain crashed into her world. ‘My coat,’ she said, still trying to close it around her.

      ‘You’re not wearing a coat, Em.’

      Emma felt the panic rise in her chest and then slowly ebb away. She could remember the sound of the horn beeping, the silence broken by the sudden roar of rain above her head but nothing in between. She slowly recognized the familiar signs of a partial seizure. The position of her tumour meant that she could expect unsettling effects such as déjà-vu episodes and even hallucinations. Her medication was intended to reduce swelling and control the symptoms but it would appear that her drug regime was still far from perfect.

      ‘Do