Tweet

Funny how things turn out. Emma couldn’t believe her eyes. The girl had returned to her hometown for one reason only. To make her peace with a terminally ill mother. But she never expected this. Wow. After all this time. So many years had passed. So much proverbial water had flowed under that bridge.

Gosh! Had it really been that long?

The train was pulling into the station. Emma didn’t want to miss her stop. She’d suffered nightmares all week about falling asleep on the train and ending up in Outer Mongolia, or whatever faraway places were called these days. That would never do. Her Mum would be furious, and would no doubt spout the same age-old spiel that all parents fire at their punctuality-challenged offspring, who in turn grow up to recite the same well-worn line to the next generation of bad timekeepers.

‘You’d be late for your own funeral.’

Emma rose hastily from her seat and almost bowled over the passing woman. A quick apology, a steadying of posture, then bang! Realisation. Recognition. That moment of silent, wide-eyed rabbit to headlights stillness. And then –

‘Kate!’

‘Emma!’

A high-pitched double helping of, ‘Oh, my God.’ And the animated hug of two people who hadn’t laid eyes on each other for...

Gosh! Had it really been that long?

They both alighted from the train. For the first few seconds, the two of them stood like statues on the station platform, enveloped in a concoction of disbelief, amazement and glowing warmth. This was much to the annoyance of the storm of passengers behind them, all hastily attempting to vacate the carriage. Awareness, however, (and a rather rude station worker) promptly forced them to move aside in order to ease the congestion.

A lot of time had passed. Had it really been that long? It certainly had. Nigh on ten years had elapsed since Emma last stood at this very station. She could picture that final afternoon so vividly. Emma laden with a beaten-up suitcase and one-way ticket. Kate in tears, begging her not to leave.

‘I can’t stay,’ was Emma’s pained response. ‘Not now. Not after this.’

Emma had been offered lucrative employment in a city six hundred miles away. It couldn’t possibly be turned down. She was on her way to a better life. A career move like no other. A fresh start. A new beginning. A brand new Emma.

She promised Kate wholeheartedly that she would write regularly. A few letters were scribed, but her brand spanking new life was soon to become a hectic one. Busy. Demanding. And very eventful. No time to put pen to paper, and so thus no further communication in that medium. Of course, she’d often muse, ‘Oh, I must write that letter,’ but ‘must write’ never quite evolved into ‘did write.’ Birthday and Christmas cards were exchanged, but even those customs ceased after just a few years. Emma wasn’t too sure who had stopped sending them first. Probably her. Actually, most likely her.

Making peace with Mum had been this week’s grand plan. Train ride here. Massive grovel. Heart to heart. Peace restored between them. Stay a few days. Plenty of home-made cake. And then the long train ride home again. But could this also be a chance to heal the rather ugly and gaping wound she shared with Kate? She certainly hoped so.

And now here they were. Emma and Kate. Together again. Two women who had grown up with each other. Mates ever since they were so high. The best of friends. Soul mates. Inseparable. Nothing could possibly come between them. But of course, something had. Or rather somebody.

Alan.

It was Emma who first dated handsome, funny, sexy Alan. The decision to move in with the man came after only three short months.

‘Emma, it’s way too soon,’ warned a worried Kate. ‘For God’s sake, get to know the guy inside out first.’

But did Emma take any notice? No, siree. When you’re in love, you quit listening to your head. And that’s when the problems began.

Alan’s drunkenness. Alan’s jealousy. Alan’s anger.

Alan’s fist.

A completely different side to the man who before cohabiting was fun, friendly and happy-go-lucky. Kate advised her friend to fight back, but the man was burly and intimidating when he’d been drinking. Emma’s petite and nimble frame was no match for such alcohol-fuelled rage.

However, Emma soon saw sense. She escaped from the relationship before the violence became too intense. If she’d stayed much longer, the bruises she endured every drunken weekend would have undoubtedly escalated to broken bones. Or worse. So therefore, one lonely Friday night, she packed some clothes, adequate cosmetics and what was left of her dignity into a weekend bag and left.

Emma crashed a few nights at Kate’s place. At first, she lived in fear of reprisals, but mercifully, aside from a couple of spates of late night repentant begging on the cold side of a heavily bolted front door, Alan caused no further strife. In no time at all, she sorted herself out with suitable accommodation and made best of a life alone.

Kate shacking up with Alan had been one hell of a shock. In fact, an absolute bombshell. Emma was totally knocked aback by the revelation. What the hell was the stupid girl thinking? This was barely a few weeks after Emma had been forced to flee for her life. Just over a month since Emma had last warmed the monster’s bed and taken his punches. Now it seemed as though Kate was next in line to share the same fate. An heir to his fist. But alas, the stubborn girl’s mind was made up. She was not prepared to give up her new boyfriend. Kate had made her bed and Alan was going to lie in it.

‘All right, fine, I’ll change the record,’ sighed Emma, giving in, ‘but if he ever tries to do the same to you, make sure you fight back.’

‘There’s no need to worry,’ Kate reassured her. ‘Alan says he’s changed. And I believe him.’

Emma knew better, of course. It would only be a matter of time before the soft fingertips Alan placed on Kate’s body would be substituted by something far worse. But Kate was adamant. This lady was not for turning. She dismissed such caution with an indifferent wave of the hand.

‘Shut up, Emma. You’re just jealous.’

What? Wham! The worst girlie sin of all time. Kate had chosen a man over her best friend. And so the rift between them was born.

The falling out occurred around the same time as the job offer. Emma and Kate were never going to be the same again – and her former joke of a relationship with Alan had caused untold friction between herself and her mother – so she accepted the post without the slightest hesitation. Kate accused her of running away from her troubles and walking out on their friendship. Emma had denied it with vigour at the time, but on reflection, maybe Kate had been right after all. Who knows? So much time has elapsed since. And there was little point now in fretting over the past.

‘Hey, let’s hit a coffee shop and catch up on the last ten years,’ suggested Kate.

Emma accepted and off they went.

Over a peace-making coffee and a guilty slice of carrot cake, Emma shared her experiences, including the fact that her busy and chaotic life left no time for love or relationships. Instead, she’d acquired a few f-buddies along the way; male friends with the added bonus of no-strings bedroom-bonanza every now and then. After all, like every woman, she had needs. Kate revealed that she had finally landed herself a job lucrative enough to afford a decent life. She was on her way up. Emma was happy for her.

The subject of Alan being brought up was inevitable.

‘Me and Alan? Oh, we’re still together.’

Initially, Emma found herself walking on eggshells during such a delicate conversation, just in case Kate had become nothing more than his personal punch bag. But no. This was not the case. Emma was surprised to discover that Kate and Alan had been married for the last nine years. Emma was genuinely pleased for her. Maybe she had been wrong after all. Maybe Alan had indeed changed for the better. However, there was something Kate wanted to show her. Something really important.

They took a bus to the other side of town and walked the rest of the way, eventually arriving at a large and lavish house. Emma was undeniably impressed. The couple had done well for themselves. Upon entering the house, Emma found herself intrigued by the presence of a live-in carer. Not the usual au pair one might expect in a well-to-do household. Oh, no. This young woman was a trained nurse. Why on Earth would she be there?

Kate led Emma up the stairs to the master bedroom. It was there where she had the shock of her life. There lay Alan in the bed. Awake, yet essentially lifeless. No recognition. No movement. No indication of thought. Just empty, staring eyes.

Kate placed a comforting arm around Emma. An explanation was in order. It had happened late one night, just over eight years ago. Alan’s drunken return. A fight. A struggle.

And a crystal ornament smashed against his skull.

It had been self-defence. But now Alan was doomed to life in a vegetable state, with Kate condemned to the lifelong burden of caring for him.

‘And as you can see, Emma,’ concluded Kate solemnly. ‘I took your advice. I did fight back. Funny how things turn out.’

THE END