Another Way to Fall by Amanda Brooke Page A

Look,’ he said, pointing at the signs all around them, ‘this is the World Museum. What’s the point in seeing the world if you can’t leave your impression on it? You can clomp around like a troll in a dwarf mine if you like.’
    It was Emma’s turn to laugh. ‘Thanks! If I wasn’t feeling self-conscious before, I am now.’
    ‘Come on,’ Ben insisted, pulling her towards the lift. ‘The world awaits.’
    They inspected the floor plan as they waited for the lift to arrive. ‘Where shall we go first?’ Emma asked.
    ‘We could start at the top and work our way down,’ suggested Ben.
    ‘The planetarium? If you’re suggesting that I include space travel in my story then I think you should start writing your own book and leave mine alone.’
    ‘Me?’ Ben laughed, shaking his head. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, the sum total of my writing involves a Specials Board. You’re the one with the degree in English.’
    They had already stepped into the lift and, ignoring Ben’s advice, Emma chose to begin her explorations in the ancient worlds on the third floor. ‘Of course you can write,’ she told him. ‘Look how much you’ve helped me with my research already. That shows you have imagination. And you understand computers, know your way around the Internet …’
    ‘Managing an Internet connection is easy and I can even come up with the odd idea or two,’ Ben insisted as the lift swept them upwards ever closer to the destination of Emma’s choice. ‘It’s getting those thoughts into a sensible order, finding the words to describe them. That’s the problem.’
    Emma wouldn’t give up. Her moment of anxiety had passed and she was an adult again, ready to take on yet another project. ‘I could teach you the basics of creative writing,’ she offered as her imagination whirred into life. She could transfer her knowledge over to Ben so that her writing could live on, even if she couldn’t. She pictured it like a scene in My Fair Lady , only she would be Professor Higgins. ‘We could start with the mundane stuff like grammar and sentence structure, figures of speech.’
    Ben laughed, still shaking his head as they stepped out of the lift. ‘I never could get my head around that stuff at school. I was like a fish out of water.’
    ‘See!’ gasped Emma excitedly. ‘That was a perfect use of a metaphor. Of course you’re a writer, if only you would believe in yourself.’
    Ben was grinning at her. He had laid the bait and she had snapped it up in her eagerness to take on a challenge. ‘Let’s just concentrate on the job at hand shall we? Point and click, that’s the limit to the skills I can offer you,’ he said, lifting up his camera, which had been hanging from his neck.
    ‘I’ve seen your photos, remember. I think your skills are a little bit more advanced than pointing and clicking,’ she scolded.
    Before Ben could answer, Emma was striding ahead, clip clopping all the way to ancient Egypt. She breathed in the musty aroma of another world and time. The temperature of the room didn’t have the heat of North Africa but the scattering of mummified remains rising out of the shadows allowed Emma to transport herself to the ancient tombs of a lost world. The touch of the stone relics felt cool but not cold and Emma closed her eyes and pushed her imagination to the limits.
    ‘I want to walk through the Valley of the Kings,’ she whispered.
    ‘Good choice,’ agreed Ben softly.
    They barely spoke as Emma moved from one artefact to another, pausing to read the descriptions of the exhibits and information boards. As they paused in front of a large stone sarcophagus, Emma looked up to meet Ben’s gaze. He was decidedly uncomfortable.
    ‘I’m starting to think this wasn’t such a great idea,’ he confessed as he cast his eyes over the exhibits, which seemed focused on one common theme.
    ‘Why?’ Emma asked, her eyes narrowing and daring Ben to continue and not be like the rest, not run in