‘Angina,’ he said, grimacing.
‘But, why…’
‘He didn’t want to worry you,’ Miranda said, reading Emma’s mind whilst handing Edward a small spray canister. Emma bit her tongue as she watched Edward spray into his mouth and breathe deeply.
‘The doctor diagnosed it six months ago,’ Miranda said. ‘Edward was getting chest pains when we were out walking. They did some tests and found out he had angina, but it’s manageable with the spray. As long as he doesn’t get too worked up.’
‘I’m fine,’ Edward said, noting Emma’s worried expression. ‘And I know I should have told you about it. I’m sorry.’
‘At least I know now,’ Emma said.
‘I’m sorry for shouting too,’ he said. ‘But I meant what I said. I want you to stay away from that man. He’ll only end up hurting you again.’
***
An hour after she left Edward was still shaking. He paced around the upstairs study before sitting on the bed and staring at the wall.
What a mess.
He got up and moved over to the phone. He could hear Miranda clearing up downstairs so it was safe to talk without fear of being overheard. He dialled the number, wondering if he was overreacting. But his instinct suggested that he wasn’t.
‘Hi, it’s me. I know you didn’t want to be disturbed, but something has happened; something I need to tell you about.’
39
‘Hi Emma, it’s me.’
‘Stuart?’ Emma said, as she negotiated the busy main road. ‘How did you…?’
‘Guy gave me your number,’ he said, pre-empting her question. ‘I hope you don’t mind. It’s just that I’ve got some news that I wanted you to know about.’
‘Go on,’ Emma said, slowing to a stop on the pavement, fearing what was to come.
‘I had a phone call before from a journalist, wanting to know about you.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ Emma said, shocked at the continued intrusion into her privacy. ‘You didn’t tell him anything, did you?’
‘No, of course not,’ he said. ‘I told him I had no comment.’
‘Good,’ she said, moving to the edge of the walkway, ‘that’s good. Did he say where he was from?’
‘The Daily News.’
‘They already did a piece on me in today’s paper.’
‘I know,’ he replied. ‘I saw it. Who gave them the photo of you and Dan?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You think it might have been Dan himself?’
‘I really don’t know. How did the journalist know to contact you? We haven’t even seen each other for years.’ Emma asked.
‘No idea,’ he said. ‘I suppose they have their ways and means.’
‘It’s just so weird to have people snooping about,’ Emma said, as a businessman hurried past, busy in conversation on his mobile. ‘I don’t like it.’
‘I’m sure it will all blow over,’ he comforted. ‘I wouldn’t want you to be put off going for the film role by the press attention. Tomorrow they’ll have another story and that will be the end of it.’
‘I hope so,’ Emma said. ‘It was a shock to see the photos, but it won’t put me off.’
‘I’m glad. You really deserve your success Emma. I always knew you had what it takes to really make something of yourself. Someone with your talent was always going to do well – you just needed that lucky break.’
‘Thanks,’ Emma said, feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable with the flattery.
‘I had a really good night last night,’ he said. ‘It was great to chat with you properly, after all these years of wanting to explain what a fool I’d made of myself.’
‘I had a good time too.’
‘I’m glad. I didn’t want me being there to spoil your night.’
‘No, it was good, honestly.’
‘I was wondering,’ Stuart began. ‘There’s this new play that’s just started – it’s had really good reviews. Tragic love story I think. I wondered if you’d like to come and watch it with me. Otherwise I’ll be just going on my own.’
‘What about your girlfriend?’ Emma asked, searching for an excuse to decline the offer.
‘She’s not really into the theatre,’ he said, in a disappointed tone that betrayed the fact that he had taken the hint.
‘Look, Stuart,’ Emma said. ‘I really appreciate you asking, but I don’t think it’s such a good idea. Not just now, with everything else that’s going on.’
‘I understand,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have asked.’
Emma felt sorry for him. ‘No, not at all. It was nice of you to ask. But I just can’t think about anything else at the moment, not with everything that’s going on. Please don’t take offence.’
‘Honestly,’ he said. ‘I won’t. And I promise, if any more press people call up I’ll tell them to take a running jump.’
***
‘I didn’t take the photo,’ Eric said, looking at the newspaper that Emma had picked up on the way to the park; a replacement for the one her father had torn up.
‘It must have been you,’ Emma accused. ‘This was taken on the day I spoke with you – the day you were taking my photograph.’
‘But this isn’t one of my photos,’ Eric countered, pointing at the image. ‘I only took your photograph up close. This was taken from a distance, with a zoom lens.’
‘Why should I believe you?’
‘Because it’s the truth – and I already told you, I don’t sell my photos to newspapers. I never have and I never will,’ he said, with passion. ‘Someone must have been watching you from a distance. It’s nothing to do with me.’
‘Are you sure it was taken from a distance?’
‘Positive. Look, I know more about photography than most people. It definitely was taken from a long way away.’
Emma looked across the park, as if a person might still be there, watching with the long-range camera. Of course, she couldn’t see anyone. She turned back to Eric.
‘Were you at the launch party last night?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I thought about going, but I didn’t in the end. Why?’
‘I thought I saw you there.’
‘Must have been my clone,’ Eric joked. ‘I was tucked up in front of the television. You can ask my mum if you like.’
‘I’m sorry, Eric, for accusing you. It’s just that when I saw that photograph, I just thought that it had to be you who’d taken it.’
‘I can understand that,’ he said. ‘It must be awful being splashed all over the newspapers like that.’
‘It is,’ she admitted.
***
As Emma returned to the apartment she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone might be watching her - maybe the same someone who had taken her photo for the newspaper. She hurried back as quickly as possible without breaking into a run. Occasionally she glanced around, but she didn’t spot any photographers. But then again, they were probably very good at keeping out of sight.
There were a few letters waiting for Emma back at the apartment. She could tell from looking at most of them that they were junk mail. But one letter was so intriguing that Emma opened it in the hallway. It was in a standard white envelope, with her address typed across the front. But it just seemed different to the rest of the post. As she tore it open she hoped it was from Dan.
Within seconds of starting to read it, she wished it hadn’t been from him.
‘No,’ she said, shaking her head in disbelief, as tears splashed down onto the paper. ‘She wouldn’t do that to me…she wouldn’t.’
40
‘We were starting to wonder if you’d forgotten,’ Sarah joked, as Emma entered the theatre lobby.
‘Sorry, got delayed. Couldn’t decide what to wear,’ Emma said, meeting the group of girls with a smile and a “what can you do?” shrug. But the smile was an effort. It was hard not to think back to the Hen Night, the last time that they had been together. How things had changed. But as if that
wouldn’t have been bad enough, she was still reeling from the revelations contained in Dan’s letter earlier that day.
‘You just missed Lizzy,’ Sarah said. ‘She popped out to say hello – she’s invited us to some nightclub after the performance. Supposedly they’ve hired out the whole place. Should be a great night out.’
‘Sounds great,’ Emma said.
‘Lizzy’s got herself a secret admirer,’ Sarah continued.
‘Really?’ Emma said, her stomach sinking at the news.
Sarah nodded. ‘Someone sent her a massive bouquet of flowers, wishing her luck for tonight.’
‘She didn’t say who it was from?’ Emma asked.
‘Unfortunately not,’ Sarah lamented. ‘We were hoping that you might have some idea – you being her best friend and all.’
‘Haven’t got a clue,’ Emma said. ‘She hasn’t mentioned anyone to me.’
‘Pity,’ Sarah replied. ‘We’ll have to try and drag the truth out of her. Call me suspicious, but I’m sure that she does know who sent those flowers. I just got the feeling that she knew more than she was letting on. Maybe I’m wrong.’
‘Maybe,’ Emma mused, thinking about what she was going to have to do.
‘We’d better get to our seats,’ Claire, another one of gang interrupted, poking her head around from the front of the group. She was holding a gigantic bag of chocolates. ‘The show will be starting any minute.’
***
Emma watched in the darkness as Lizzy gave the performance of her life. There was no denying that she was fantastic. The voice, the acting, and the overall look – it was flawless. After all those hours of stressing over the script, and all those doubts, everything had come right. And despite what Emma had just learnt, she still felt pleased for her best friend. But as the cast returned to the stage for the last time, taking their final bow, a knot tightened in Emma’s stomach. It wouldn’t be long before the night would take a very different turn.
***
‘Emma!’ Lizzy shouted, rushing up to her friend and embracing her in a full-body hug. She was so excited. ‘What did you think?’ she asked, moving away but holding on to both of Emma’s hands.
‘I thought you were fantastic,’ Emma smiled. ‘Absolutely fantastic.’
‘Really?’ she said, her eyes glazing over and her face breaking out into a wide smile. ‘You don’t know how much that means to me,’ she said. ‘That’s why I wanted to speak with you now, before I see the others. I don’t mind what anyone else thinks, as long as you liked it.’
Shortly after the end of the show, as the group had been waiting in the theatre foyer, a message had come through from Lizzy inviting her backstage into Lizzy’s dressing room.
‘Well I did,’ Emma said, noticing the bouquet of flowers in the corner of the dressing room.
‘Someone sent them to me,’ Lizzy explained, noticing Emma glance at the flowers. ‘They’re really expensive as well,’ she said.
‘You don’t know who sent them?’ Emma asked.
‘No.’
‘No note?’
‘There is a note,’ Lizzy said, moving towards the flowers and picking up a small piece of cardboard. ‘But all it says is “Good Luck”’, she said, handing it to Emma. ‘Doesn’t give away very much.’
But it did.
‘What’s the matter?’ Lizzy said, concerned, as Emma stared at the note. ‘You think you know who they’re from?’
‘I went back to the flat this afternoon,’ Emma said. ‘There was a letter, from Dan.’
‘Really?’ Lizzy said, ‘you should have told me. I wouldn’t have minded being interrupted.’
Emma closed her eyes briefly, searching for the right words.
‘The letter was about you,’ Emma said, looking away.
‘What?’ Lizzy said. ‘I don’t understand. Why would it be about me?’
‘Promise you’ll be honest with me,’ Emma said, turning to face her friend. ‘No matter what, promise you’ll tell me the truth about this.’
‘Em, I don’t understand what you’re on about. Just tell me what’s going on, please.’
‘Dan said that you two have been having an affair,’ Emma said.
‘What?’ Lizzy said, aghast. ‘But that’s rubbish. I’d never do that, Em. Never. Why would he say something like that?’
‘So it’s not true,’ Emma said, her voice faltering with emotion.
‘It’s complete bullshit,’ Lizzy said, her face reddening. ‘What else did he say?’
‘He said that you’d been having a relationship for a few months,’ Emma said. ‘And that Richard and him fought because Richard found out about it and was threatening to tell me the truth.’
‘He’s lying,’ Lizzy protested. ‘Em, I don’t know why he’s saying this, but it’s not true. I wouldn’t do it to you. You know how much you mean to me. I can’t believe he’d say that.’
Emma looked down again at the note.
‘This note, with the flowers,’ Emma said. ‘It was written by Dan. It’s his handwriting.’
Lizzy was speechless.
‘He said in the letter that he had proof that you two were having a relationship,’ Emma stated.
‘He can’t have,’ Lizzy countered, ‘because it’s not true. You do believe me, don’t you? You can’t think I’d do that to you?’
‘I want to believe you,’ Emma said. ‘But I don’t know if I can.’
Emma and Lizzy’s eyes met, tears rolling down both of their cheeks.
‘Please, believe me,’ Lizzy said.
‘I don’t know what to believe anymore,’ Emma admitted. ‘One of the two people I trusted the most is lying, and I’ve got to decide who.’
‘Maybe you’d better go,’ Lizzy said, sadly, ‘while you decide.’
Emma turned and walked out of the dressing room. As she slipped out of the theatre and weaved her way through the night-time revellers of central London she had never felt so alone.
But the problem was, she wasn’t alone at all.
41
Nurse Mary Donahue had been keeping her eye on the visitor in the private ward for some time now. He had seemed harmless enough at first, but when she’d come in to check on Richard Carlton, something felt wrong. It was like she’d just interrupted a conversation - an argument even. The man was looming over Richard, just staring. And he was still doing just that, a good thirty minutes later. There was a time when Mary Donahue would never have thought the worst of anyone in hospital. But it was different now. Things changed the night a drugged up patient attacked her with a used syringe, resulting in several weeks anxious wait while they tested her for various blood-borne diseases. It had been hard returning to work, two months ago, but she had done it. But it wasn’t surprising that the experience had changed her perspective on life.
‘Everything okay?’ Mary asked, entering the private room but being careful to wedge the door open. She hoped that her question sounded relaxed, even if she wasn’t.
The man didn’t react. It was like he was the one in a coma.
‘Everything okay?’ she tried again, this time her voice faltering.
‘Oh, fine, fine,’ he said, returning to life and seemingly shocked to notice her standing at the door. He raised himself up and blinked a couple of times, rubbing his face.
‘Would you like a drink?’ she asked. ‘I can do you a tea or coffee. Might not taste that great, but it’s wet.’
Mary’s smile wasn’t returned.
‘I’m okay,’ he said, looking anything but.
‘Are you a relative?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Friend of the family.’
‘It’s difficult isn’t it,’ she noted, looking at Richard and then back at the unnamed man. ‘Knowing how to deal with someone in a coma.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘Will he recover?’
‘Impossible to tell really,’ she admitted. ‘But there’s always hope. Some people do make a complete recovery.’
‘Will he r
emember everything?’ the man asked.
‘Coma survivors often have some form of memory loss,’ she said, being careful not to get this man’s hopes up by referring directly to Richard’s case.
The man turned to look at Richard. It was then that Mary stole a glance and noticed that he was grasping something in his right hand. It looked like a piece of plastic - a cord maybe. Her body stiffened as the man’s attention shot back to her, noticing where she had been looking. His fist tightening around whatever he was holding.
‘I’d better go,’ he said, lowering his head and striding out of the room, brushing past her.
Mary stood aside and let him go, unchallenged. She was in no position to do anything else – the man had towered above her slight frame. But she could do something now. She moved out of the room and watched as the man disappeared through the double doors. Then she hurried over to the nursing station and picked up the phone.
‘Hello, security? Nurse Donahue here on Ward 23. You wanted me to let you know if anything suspicious happened up here with Richard Carlton…’
***
Emma thought about going to the hospital to see Richard, but visiting hours had long since ended. Instead she headed back to her apartment. She needed to sort things out with Lizzy, but tonight wasn’t the night to do it. It was best to let the dust settle and take stock in the morning. She closed the door behind her and went around the apartment, flicking on all of the lights. It wasn’t environmentally friendly, but it made her feel a bit better – a little safer. Then she ran a bath and made a cup of tea.
The intercom buzzed shortly after she had slipped into the bath. She remained there, her desire to soak in the warm water outweighing her desire to find out who it was. She closed her eyes and dipped her nose towards the water line.
The One You Love (suspense mystery) Page 17