The Pollyanna Plan

by Talli Roland

  A few minutes later and that much closer to cardiac arrest, Emma plunked the paint down on the floor of the flat and collapsed on the bed, opening up the laptop and Googling ‘Plumtree Insurance’. They weren’t as big as Gladstone, but according to the website, they had a stable client portfolio, specialising mainly in corporate insurance. Right now, ‘stable’ sounded just right.

  After showering, Emma slicked back her hair as best she could, bemoaning that she’d cut it in the first place. Stepping into a black suit, she felt a little like the past week had been a dream—a dream that can never be real life, she reminded her solemn, pale reflection.

  ‘We’d certainly be delighted to welcome you on board,’ Lionel McFarlane said a few hours later. ‘You’re by far and away the most experienced candidate, and your references are impeccable.’ The twinkle in his eyes reminded Emma of her former boss, although the two men couldn’t appear more different. With his tweed jackets and grizzled beard, Henry resembled a professor. On the other hand, Lionel was decked out in what could only be a Savile Row suit, his dark hair clipped neatly. ‘Tracy will email the details of our offer. We’ll need you to start in the next few days.’

  ‘That’s perfect,’ Emma responded. She was so desperate to get back to work, she’d muck in right now if they wanted. With its beige cubicles and fluorescent lighting, Plumtree lacked the slick environment of Gladstone. But Gladstone’s glamour hadn’t done anything to protect her job, had it? ‘I look forward to receiving the offer, and I’ll let you know shortly.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Lionel stood, towering over her. ‘I hope to see you again very soon.’ His phone rang and he picked it up, covering the receiver. ‘Are you all right to make your way out?’

  Emma nodded and retraced her path down the corridor, relief flooding through her with every step. Sure, she wasn’t filled with the heady excitement she’d experienced when thinking of her own design business, but that was a silly dream, better left on the shelf where it belonged than actually attempted.

  Out on the street, the towering metal and glass structures were surreally familiar, as if she’d been away for a very long time and was returning to a place that was unchanged but felt different. Being Pollyanna had really done a number on her, Emma thought as she paused in front of Gladstone’s—now Aquarius’s—building, craning her neck to gaze up at the fifteenth floor, where her old company was located. Henry, George and everything else from just a few weeks ago seemed so distant, as if they were characters in a past life. Snorting, Emma dismissed the fanciful thoughts. Once she started her new job, everything would come into focus again.

  Back at the flat, the offer from Plumtree was waiting in her inbox. As the initial posting indicated, the salary was considerably less than what she’d made at Gladstone, but a cut in pay was a small sacrifice to get back to work. She quickly typed out an acceptance, saying she’d send the signed contract by courier as soon as possible.

  Then, Emma slumped onto the bed and succumbed to sleep, lulled by the security of knowing that soon her life would be back on track, and all the useless feelings the Pollyanna Plan had dredged up—hope, optimism, enthusiasm—would vanish.

  ‘Yoo-hoo!’ Lou’s voice echoed across the silent waters of Regent’s Canal, and Will raised a hand in response. The last time he’d seen her was that night with Emma, almost a week ago. Ever since the conversation with his father, Will had either been holed up inside the boat or working shifts at Home & Hearth. A colleague had quit after spilling a tin of black paint on a shipload of Santas, landing Will with double the work. He couldn’t complain, though: he was so desperate to keep his mind off both Emma and his dad, the extra hours were a godsend. Every muscle in his body ached and Will knew he was pushing it, but he didn’t care. The exhaustion meant he fell asleep almost as soon as he came home. If only he could control his subconscious…

  Every night, images of Emma in his arms marched through his mind. As he fought with the duvet, he could swear her perfume still lingered. He’d force himself back to sleep, only to be faced with his father’s disappointed countenance, the accusations of cowardice piercing Will’s dreams like daggers.

  Will arranged his face in a smile as he neared Lou, eyes widening as he took in her full aboriginal headdress and the smeared war paint across her broad cheeks. Against the backdrop of Regent’s Canal, she was a fantastical vision.

  ‘You look like shit,’ Lou said bluntly, the words at odds with her posh accent.

  Will laughed, running a hand over his tired face. No point denying it—he did, and he felt like shit, too. ‘Thanks. Hello to you, too.’

  ‘Haven’t seen you around much,’ Lou said, staring hard at him, as if she could see into his mind.

  ‘I’ve been busy working,’ Will mumbled.

  ‘Oh.’ Lou’s face dropped. ‘I’d hoped you were spending more time with that young woman of yours. How is she, anyway?’

  The last thing he needed was Lou sticking her sizeable nose into his affairs—or lack of them. ‘I wouldn’t know, Lou. I haven’t seen her for the past week, and I don’t plan to.’ Best to nip it in the bud now, he thought.

  But Lou just tilted her head to the side. Will tried not to grin as the headdress shifted comically, looking like it was about to slide off. ‘I reckon you haven’t seen the last of her, my friend. I have a feeling about these things, and I know that woman wasn’t a one-night stand. You two have a connection.’ She waved her hands mystically in the air, and the headdress slipped over one eye.

  Will sighed. Connection or not, he wasn’t interested in a relationship. ‘Well, things didn’t work out,’ he said, stepping onto his boat. ‘I’ll talk to you later, Lou.’ And before she could respond, he unlocked the door and climbed inside, silence filling his ears.

  Thank goodness, he thought, sinking onto the sofa. He reached for his mobile, a strange feeling sweeping over him when he noticed there were no messages—not even from his father, who, until their last conversation, had rung once a day to ‘chat about the business’.

  So, Dad finally got the message, Will thought, shoving away the phone. Fleetingly, he wondered if the takeover was progressing and how his father was dealing with it. But his dad was more than capable of handling the situation under his own steam—it was what he’d always done, even when Will had been around. No, he was better off staying out of any business affairs.

  Maybe now he’d have the peace he craved.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ‘Come on,’ Emma muttered to herself the next day as she spread white paint over the blue walls in the lounge. The paint she’d been told was ‘the highest quality, madam’ was the consistency of watery milk, and after finishing one wall, the blue was now…light blue. At this rate, it’d take bloody ten coats to get everything white again.

  ‘Well, I have all day,’ she said grimly, loading up the brush with another dollop and watching in chagrin as half of it ran back into the tin. God! Maybe she should go somewhere else and buy a better brand? Emma bit her lip as thoughts of Will charged into her mind, and the familiar hurt and bitterness returned. Imagine her falling for a man who, like her father, would struggle with his health. Okay, MS wasn’t terminal like cancer, but still. None of this matters, she told herself. Will hadn’t called, proving he’d never been that interested to begin with.

  Emma slopped more paint on the wall. She’d get this covered today if it killed her. Anyway, she wouldn’t have time after tomorrow. Plumtree had emailed this morning, confirming her acceptance and asking if she could start the next day, and she’d almost suggested coming in right now. First things first, though: she needed to return the flat to its former sterile state.

  The buzzer rang, and Emma’s eyebrows rose in surprise. It was 10:00 a.m.—who on earth could that be? Maybe Alice, come by to make amends? Emma still couldn’t understand her friend’s denial of the obvious: that life wasn’t about roses and blue skies, and that Emma and Will
never had potential to begin with. It was a little surprising Alice hadn’t been in touch sooner, but maybe their last conversation had hit a nerve.

  Emma wiped her hands on a rag and pressed the intercom.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Emma! It’s your mother.’

  ‘And Meg!’ a small voice piped up.

  ‘And Meg.’ Emma could hear the smile in her mother’s voice. ‘Can we come up?’

  ‘Um, sure.’ She buzzed them through, surprise filling every pore. Her mum never just dropped by—and with Meg. Had something happened?

  As Emma swung open the door, Meg’s glowing face and her mother’s gentle smile met her worried gaze. ‘Sorry, I’m in the midst of a paint job here,’ Emma mumbled, gesturing to the half-painted room behind her.

  ‘Oh, cool!’ Meg squealed, looking at the remaining blue walls adorned with fluffy white clouds. ‘Did you paint this yourself?’

  Emma nodded. ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Mum, can Emma do my room? Please?’ Meg fixed imploring eyes on her mother.

  Emma’s mum laughed, shaking her head. ‘You’ll have to ask Emma, darling.’

  Meg turned to her sister. ‘Can you paint my room?’

  ‘Um…’ Emma sighed. ‘We’ll see,’ she said finally, giving the answer her mum always used when she wanted to stall. Emma turned to her mother. ‘I’m starting a new job tomorrow, so I might need time to settle in first.’

  ‘Oh, well done, dear.’ Her mother squeezed Emma’s arm. ‘That didn’t take long. It’s a good thing we caught you today, then. Sorry to barge in, but Meg wanted to surprise you. She’s on an inset day, and we thought we’d pop into London to see you. I know it’s last minute, so if you’re busy, perhaps we could just grab some lunch. But we’d love to spend the whole afternoon if you have time. Right, Meg?’

  Meg nodded so hard her ponytail bounced. ‘Right.’

  Emma glanced over at the walls, thinking how much she wanted to get this job done today. Inside, though, a small jet of pleasure spurted. Meg and her mum had come all this way to be with her—that was something new. In the past, Emma had always been the odd one out. Am I still suffering the aftereffects of Pollyanna? Emma wondered. But Meg was her sister.…

  ‘Okay,’ Emma relented. ‘Give me a second to change and clean up. Otherwise, I might get someone accidentally covered in paint.’ She waved her splattered hands threateningly in Meg’s direction, and her sister gave a little squeal and jumped away.

  Inside the bedroom, Emma pulled a brush through her hair and scrubbed a fleck of paint from her cheek.

  ‘I’m glad you were in,’ her mum said, poking her head around the door. ‘I’m so delighted you and Meg are finally getting to know each other. Besides the concert, this will probably be the last time we see you before heading off.’

  Emma swung towards her mother. ‘Heading off?’

  ‘Oh, didn’t we tell you?’ Her mum’s brow crinkled. ‘I was sure I mentioned it. Andrew, Meg and I are spending this Christmas in Mauritius. White sand, tropical temperatures…I can’t wait.’

  ‘Mauritius?’ Emma croaked. ‘No, you didn’t tell me.’ She fought to keep the emotion from her face, although inside hurt clenched her gut like a physical ache. So much for the idyllic family Christmas she’d envisioned. The three of them were taking off, spending Christmastime together as they usually did…without her in the picture. How stupid she’d been to think things would ever be any different.

  ‘Andrew fancied a bit of a change, and he got a great deal on some tickets,’ her mother carried on, seemingly oblivious to Emma’s upset. ‘I was sure we told you our plans way back when we booked.’

  Emma shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’ She took a deep breath, wondering if her mum actually had told her at some stage and she couldn’t remember. But what did it matter? Whether she’d been informed or not, the three of them would be together for the holiday, like a real family, and she’d be on her own. As always.

  Wasn’t that what she’d wanted, before all this Pollyanna rubbish? This was simply another sign positivity changed nothing, only opening her up to pain. Emma took a deep breath, thinking it was best to start getting things back to how they used to be.

  ‘You know what, Mum?’ Emma steeled herself to say the words. ‘I’m sorry, but I just remembered I have to meet a friend in an hour.’ The excuse was flimsy, but there was no point pretending they were a family. When it came down to occasions that mattered, it was only too obvious they weren’t.

  Her mother raised an eyebrow but didn’t challenge the excuse. ‘Perhaps you can meet us afterwards?’

  Emma shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to be tied up all afternoon. Shame, if I’d only known you were coming…’

  Her mum nodded. ‘Yes, I suppose we should have told you. I just hoped— never mind. Meg will be disappointed. She was so looking forward to spending time with you.’

  A stab of guilt pierced Emma, but she ignored it. ‘I’ll go say goodbye to her now.’ She pushed past her mother and into the lounge, where Meg was tracing a cloud on the wall with her finger.

  ‘These are so cool!’ Meg grinned up at her sister, and Emma felt her resolve slip slightly.

  ‘Thanks.’ A smile tugged at Emma’s lips despite herself, and she crouched down to Meg’s level. ‘I won’t be able to go out with you this afternoon, after all. I already have other plans and it’s too late to change them.’

  Her sister’s animated face dropped, and Emma’s heart panged again. It wasn’t Meg’s fault the family didn’t include Emma, and a seven-year-old couldn’t be expected to understand the meaning of ‘prior commitments’.

  Was she doing the right thing, begging off? It’d be fun to spend the afternoon with Meg, and her mum had said she’d wanted to start over. But if she really did, wouldn’t she at least have invited Emma along to Mauritius? No more Pollyanna, Emma reminded herself. Now, the only thing that counted was actions in the real world.

  It was safer to keep up her guard, even if it meant momentarily disappointing her sister. Meg would get over it quickly—kids always did. She had been fine before Emma came round. She’d be fine after, too.

  ‘But you’re still coming to my concert, right?’

  Emma groaned under her breath, wishing she’d never promised to go in the first place. ‘Well…I’ll try my best. I might be busy with work.’ From the corner of her eye, Emma saw her mother stiffen. ‘You guys have a great time this afternoon.’

  ‘We will.’ Her mum buttoned up her wool coat. ‘Enjoy the afternoon with your friend.’ The words were neutral, but Emma sensed her disappointment.

  They clattered down the stairs, and Emma shut the door, pushing away the lingering hurt and guilt. That was that—another piece of the Pollyanna puzzle dismantled in the return to the safety of normality. Now, to finish this room…Grabbing a brush, Emma slapped paint on the wall for all she was worth.

  Darkness fell as Will made his way back home. Accepting today’s eight-hour shift hadn’t been the smartest move, especially given how hard he’d been working lately. But the silence of the boat weighed heavily on him whenever he was there—it hadn’t provided a sanctuary or the peace he’d hoped. Now, every time Will shut his eyes, he could swear the walls were closing in.

  His muscles felt leaden as he dragged himself along the towpath, his breath forming clouds in the late-November air. Up ahead, he could just make out Lou on the deck of her boat, draping the rails with Christmas lights. The cheery reds and greens reflected in the smooth waters of the canal.

  I can’t get away from the bloody festive season, Will thought, shaking his head. The DIY centre was packed to the rafters with ornaments, tree lights, scented candles and every little bit of holiday paraphernalia you could dream of. The scent of pines drifted in from outside, and punters scurried by with wrapped trees in tow.

  Last year, he�
��d embraced Christmas full force. He’d been cosied up with Cherie in their flat, watching with eager eyes as she tore open the diamond drop earrings he’d spent hours selecting. Even now he could picture the sparkle of the stones as they dangled from Cherie’s perfect lobes, her delighted grin as she checked out her reflection in the mirror, and how they’d made love right by the tree. Afterwards, they’d gone to his parents’ in Essex, topping up their glow with brandy, wine and his mum’s turkey roast.

  This year, well…Will’s mouth twisted. He’d be waking up alone on the boat before putting in the obligatory appearance at his parents’. God knows what his father’s reaction would be. They hadn’t spoken since that day in the factory, although his mother often called to check in and ensure Will still had all his faculties. If she had her way, he’d be in bed 24/7, with hired nurses changing his nappies.

  Suddenly, everything wavered before his eyes, like someone stuck strong spectacles on his face. What the—? Blinking rapidly, Will tried to refocus, but instead his vision became even blurrier. He reached towards the wall to grip onto something, but his arm didn’t seem to want to move. Before he could call out or utter a noise, he slumped onto the cold, hard ground.

  ‘Will? Will!’ Lou’s voice cut into the darkness, and her footsteps thumped towards him. Struggling to sit up, Will noted with relief Lou’s concerned face was in focus, although his body still felt weak and limp.

  ‘Hi, Lou,’ he managed to get out, conscious his voice was slurring slightly.

  ‘You’ve taken a tumble,’ Lou said, ‘but from what I saw, you didn’t hit your head. Have you eaten today?’ Her tone was authoritative.

  Will forced himself to nod, feeling like he was moving through slurry. ‘Yes, yes. I have.’ He tried to stand, but his right leg buckled beneath him. ‘Can you help me get back to the boat?’