The Importance of Being Emma

by Juliet Archer

‘You could always cancel it.’

  ‘Best to leave the arrangements as they are, if you don’t mind.’

  We walked in silence for a while, Mark crooning to himself and Emily tugging at Emma’s hair. Despite the slightly awkward conversation about lunch, I felt at peace with the world. And I had a strange, random thought: to anyone that didn’t know us, we would seem the perfect family, out for a Sunday morning stroll, happy as can be.

  Or maybe not. When I glanced across at Emma, she was frowning and biting her lip. I had a silly urge to take her in my arms, but I didn’t; bit tricky with a child on my back.

  Instead I asked, keeping my tone casual, ‘Did you get home all right last night?’

  ‘Obviously, why wouldn’t I?’

  Her blush and the defensive note in her voice were a dead giveaway. So Elton had tried it on, the little shit.

  I cleared my throat and went for a less direct approach. ‘You know, Emily, there’s no need for your aunt to overreact like that, I just had a feeling something embarrassing might have happened. Of course, it can’t have, because she prides herself on being able to read people like a book – ’

  ‘I got a new book,’ Mark put in. ‘’Bout Mog.’

  Emma sighed. ‘Yes, and guess how many times we’ve read it, Uncle Mark? At least ten, and that was just before breakfast. But don’t let me interrupt your lecture to Emily, I bet she’s finding it riveting.’

  I was pleased to see that my tactics were working; she was already looking more relaxed. ‘As I was saying, Emily, your aunt thinks people can be judged by their covers, like books. I’m afraid she still has a lot to learn.’

  Emma gave a rueful smile. ‘You see, Emily, Uncle Mark’s lived so long in the big bad world that he thinks he knows everything. But he has a point, I do occasionally make the wrong call. So, when you grow up, make sure you’re twice as clever and only half as conceited as your aunt and you’ll be fine. Isn’t that right, Uncle Mark?’

  I reached across, tickled Emily under her chubby little chin and watched her rosy cheeks dimple. ‘For once, little one, your aunt’s talking sense,’ I said softly, ‘and I can’t argue with her.’

  Then Mark yelled, ‘There’s Grandpa’s gate!’

  He was right; we’d arrived at the arched wrought iron gate that led into the Hartfield garden. I lifted him down and he ran towards it, whooping loudly.

  Emma turned to me. ‘See you tomorrow, then.’

  I grinned. ‘That’s right, your big presentation. I’m looking forward to it.’

  ‘So was I, until last night … Still, that’s a problem of my own making and I’ll just have to sort it.’

  And, with a defiant lift of her chin, she followed little Mark through the gate.

  ~~EMMA~~

  To all intents and purposes, this would be a repeat of the last Board meeting: same place, same people, probably even sitting in the same seats. Only Philip and I knew that something had changed. It seemed that he couldn’t hide his animosity, however. As soon as I entered the room, he turned his back on me and continued talking to Terry. Even when Terry nodded and smiled in my direction, Philip refused to acknowledge me.

  Harriet had struggled into work, looking washed out and smelling strongly of garlic. We’d prepared the boardroom together and I’d set up my laptop and the new projector I’d ordered immediately after the last meeting. Harriet had also put printouts of my slides, together with a selection of photos from the photo shoot, into smart information packs to accompany my PC presentation.

  As I flicked through my copy one last time, I spotted that she’d spelt ‘Highbury’ as ‘Highbary’ on one of the slides.

  ‘Slide ten,’ – I waved the page in front of her – ‘just change the “a” to a “u” on the disk version, please, and reprint it for the packs, then bring everything along to the boardroom.’

  And I’d left her to get on with it, otherwise I would have been late. After my little mishap at the last Board meeting and Mark’s reprimand about checking my work thoroughly, I was determined today would go perfectly. Or as perfectly as it could, given the bruised ego of the Finance Director.

  At last Harriet came in and Dad started the meeting. I contributed very little to the discussions around the directors’ reports and kept especially quiet during Philip’s. Then it was my turn. I switched on the projector, took the disk from Harriet and inserted it into my laptop. The information packs would keep until the end; I didn’t want any distractions from my pitch.

  It started off well. The first nine slides were a summary of my research proposal for repositioning Betty’s Best as Harriet’s Secret Recipes. I stressed the requirement for some early primary research, using a concept board approach with focus groups of customers and non-customers. I explained that I wanted to do as much as possible in-house rather than use agencies, to minimise cost. I mentioned the need for an initial strapline, but didn’t refer to Philip’s suggestion. Finally, I circulated a sample concept board, featuring a scenario of Harriet planning an informal lunch for her girlfriends, and showed how it would be used in the focus groups.

  There were murmurs of approval round the table, with one exception.

  Philip gave me a nasty look before turning to Dad. ‘As I’ve already said, Henry, we’re going to have to cut back on expenditure and this proposal’s the sort of amateurish initiative that we may have to drop completely.’

  ‘I take your point,’ Dad said mildly, ‘but at the moment Emma’s well within the outline budget you agreed with her. If we have to cut back, there may be more obvious savings to be made in other areas.’ His tone became sharp. ‘And the word “amateurish” seems rather harsh. Mark, do you think we need some professional agency input here?’

  ‘Not vital at this stage, and certainly not if you want to keep within such a modest research budget.’ Mark paused and fixed his gaze on Philip. ‘I think Emma’s practical, low-cost approach is ideal for the circumstances and I’m surprised the Finance Director isn’t being more supportive.’

  Philip flushed and looked down at his papers. I decided to wrap up my presentation as quickly as possible.

  ‘OK, I just wanted to talk briefly about Christmas.’ I held up my hand as Jon started muttering about his production schedule. ‘Not this year’s, which I know we planned months ago, but next year’s. This is a simple idea that our competitors are already doing and it doesn’t involve any major production changes.’ I clicked onto slide ten. ‘Introducing – ’

  I broke off in dismay. Harriet had certainly changed the ‘a’ to a ‘u’; trouble was, she’d done it in the wrong word. Instead of ‘The Highbury Hamper’, the slide read ‘The Highbary Humper’.

  My cheeks burned. I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t shut out the howls of laughter from Jon and Terry, or Philip’s angry exclamations. Of course, he’d think this was a dig at his behaviour on Saturday night, even a deliberate attempt to expose him …

  I opened my eyes and looked straight at Mark. His expression was blank, but I knew he was disappointed in me.

  ‘It was a last-minute change,’ I said in a small voice. ‘I know I should have checked it, but I didn’t.’

  Harriet added, with a loud sniff, ‘It’s my fault really, I was in too much of a rush.’

  ‘What’s a humper?’ Batty asked brightly.

  Silence. Then Dad swallowed and said, ‘I believe the expression “to hump” means to, um, have sexual intercourse.’

  Philip puffed himself up like a bullfrog. ‘You see, Henry, I know she’s your daughter but this is what I mean by amateurish, she’s lowering the tone of the Board meeting. And I can assure you there’s no such person as the Highbury Humper, it’s all in her overactive imagination!’

  I stared at him, unable to believe my ears. This was totally unprofessional, a personal attack. And how could I defend myself without revealing what was behind it?

  ‘I’m sure there are as many humpers in Highbury as anywhere else,’ Mark said drily. ‘Anyway, this was obviously
meant to say “The Highbury Hamper”. A typo, that’s all. Easily done, Harriet, especially when you’re not feeling well. It sounds like a great idea, Emma – why don’t you tell us what you had in mind?’

  I gave him a wan smile and moved on to the next slide, a list of the products I envisaged for the hamper, followed by the seasonal distribution channels I’d researched in addition to our usual outlets. I dealt with Jon’s questions and provided additional facts and figures to Mark and Terry, all with a confidence I certainly didn’t feel.

  Because I was already visualising the damage a resentful Philip could do to my credibility at Highbury Foods. And there was only one person I could turn to for help: The Tormentor.

  ~~MARK~~

  After the Board meeting, I went to find Emma. She wasn’t in her room, however, or with Henry; so I returned to Donwell Organics where it seemed everyone had been storing up their problems for me.

  I left the office promptly at five, to make sure the house would be warm when Tamara returned from her shopping trip in London. As I finished lighting the fire in the drawing room, the doorbell rang. I knew it wasn’t Tamara; she had a key and, anyway, she’d only just phoned to say she was at the station, waiting for a taxi to Donwell.

  It was Emma, still in her work clothes, the same beige suit she’d had on when I found her in the boardroom that September morning – the first time I saw her as Emma, not Mouse …

  ‘Er, come in,’ I said. ‘Tamara’s not here, but she’ll be back any moment.’ I was warning myself as much as telling her.

  ‘I’m not staying.’ She paused. ‘I wouldn’t have come, except I couldn’t get you on your mobile – ’

  ‘The battery’s flat, I’ve just put it on charge.’

  ‘Oh. Anyway, I’m here because – look, I need a mentoring meeting as soon as possible.’

  ‘Any particular reason?’ As if I didn’t already know the answer.

  She was finding the hall floor fascinating. ‘Yes. It’s – it’s Philip. You saw how horrible he was to me today, and how badly I handled it, and – ’

  ‘If the problem’s what I think it is, that he made a pass at you on Saturday night and you rejected him, then yes, that’s a tricky situation. But I’m not sure it’s within my mentoring brief.’ In fact, I’d bloody well make sure it wasn’t.

  ‘The – the details of Saturday night aren’t within your brief, but how I get on with him as a work colleague is, surely?’ She lifted pleading eyes to mine.

  I said nothing.

  She went on, ‘I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. Highbury Foods is my job for life, as it were. Philip can move on – but I can’t. And we still need to discuss your observations from the photo shoot, they’re probably more relevant than ever.’

  I gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I know, but can’t it wait for a week or so?’

  ‘Until Tamara’s gone?’ Her voice was edgy.

  ‘No – actually, yes.’

  ‘On that basis, you mustn’t have got much work done in India.’

  I flushed. ‘This is entirely different. We haven’t seen each other for six weeks and she’s only here for ten days. We’re determined to make the most of it.’

  Her lips tightened. ‘I’ll bet. So, when you can spare a moment from making the most of it, give me a ring and we’ll fix up a meeting for next week.’

  I knew I’d let her down, but I also knew I couldn’t face a mentoring meeting right now, especially if its focus was another man’s infatuation with her.

  ‘Next week’s fine,’ I said gently. ‘By then, you know, the Philip thing may have started to resolve itself, whereas today he was probably still a bit raw from Saturday night.’ I couldn’t resist adding, ‘I did warn you about getting a lift home with him. And before, about him not being interested in Harriet.’

  ‘Yes, you were right all along, while I was about as perceptive as that bloody doorpost. I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been!’

  To my horror, her eyes filled with tears. I couldn’t understand why she was getting so emotional, unless …

  I cleared my throat. ‘Emma, what did he – what happened exactly?’

  She looked away. ‘It – it was more what might have happened. We were on a quiet road, and he was so surprised when I wouldn’t … And then humiliated and – and angry. I didn’t think he’d push his luck, but you’re never completely sure about someone, are you?’ She let out a long, shuddering breath. ‘Oh Mark, I was so relieved when he took me back to Hartfield.’

  How right it felt to draw her close. Stroke her hair. Be there for her …

  The front door swung open and Tamara came in, laden with Harrods bags. When she saw us, she shut the door with a vicious kick.

  I let Emma go and smiled at Tamara. ‘That’s good timing, darling, I’m just about to warm something up for dinner.’

  ‘So I see,’ she said, with a venomous look at Emma.

  ‘We’ve been discussing our next mentoring session – ’ I began.

  ‘I’d better go,’ Emma cut in, drying her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Dad’ll be getting anxious, I said I’d only be away twenty minutes.’

  Tamara arched one perfectly plucked eyebrow. ‘Just a quickie, was it?’

  I glared at her, then turned to Emma. ‘I’ll ring you tomorrow, when I’ve checked my diary.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said quietly. ‘’Bye, then. ’Bye, Tamara.’

  ‘Goodbye, Mouse,’ Tamara said, with a sneer. ‘I can call you that, can’t I? Or is it only Mark who’s allowed to use your little pet name?’

  Emma blushed. ‘No, feel free.’

  She avoided my eye and almost ran out of the house. I made to go after her, but checked myself. Tamara stood watching me, her face taut with anger. Then a car door slammed, shattering the silence, and we heard Emma start the engine and drive off.

  Immediately, Tamara threw her bags down on the floor and stormed into the family room. I followed, determined to clear the air. She switched on the PC and waited for it to boot up, scowling and drumming her long red fingernails on the desk.

  I folded my arms and leaned against the door. ‘What was all that about?’

  ‘You tell me.’

  ‘How can I, when I don’t know what you’re getting at?’

  ‘I walk in on you and her, and your hands are all over her, and you’re doing that thing with her hair that you always do to me when you’re feeling horny – and you say you don’t know what I’m getting at?’ She gave a scornful laugh.

  Were my hands all over her? Was I doing that thing with her hair? I felt the blood drain from my face. ‘You’re reading too much into this. She was upset about a problem at work and I was giving her a hug, nothing more.’ I went towards the desk. ‘There was absolutely no need to embarrass her like that.’

  ‘She wouldn’t have been embarrassed if she had nothing to hide.’

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous! She thinks of me as an old friend, that’s all.’

  ‘Maybe it’s you who has something to hide, then.’

  ‘What the hell does that mean?’

  She slid open the drawer beside her, took out a page torn from a magazine and held it up, just out of reach, as if to taunt me.

  ‘Found this when I was looking for some printer paper this morning. Recognise it?’

  ‘Of course I do. So?’

  ‘So why’s it here?’

  I heard myself blustering, ‘For God’s sake, I’m mentoring her. That photo tells me a lot about her public image, something she clearly needs to work on.’

  ‘And your mentoring file is – where?’

  I paused. ‘In the office.’

  ‘Ah. But you keep this charming photo at home. Presumably it’s normally at your bedside, nicely to hand, but not required while I’m here.’

  ‘If you’re insinuating what I think you are, then you’re – ’

  ‘And the way you were eyeing her up on Saturday night, was that in the name of mentoring too?’

  �
�I wasn’t eyeing her up.’ Was I?

  ‘Every time I looked at you, you were staring at her.’

  I shrugged. ‘If I was looking at her more than usual, it was because I thought Elton was eyeing her up.’

  ‘Funny, you didn’t look at him very much, which makes it a bit difficult to know what he’s doing, doesn’t it? You see, Mark, I’m putting two and two together. Ever since I arrived, you’ve been – different. As if your mind’s on something, or someone, else. And now I know who.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘Let’s go into the drawing room and discuss this in comfort.’

  In one fluid movement, she pressed herself against me, her voice a husky whisper. ‘Mmmm, that depends, darling. If it’s in front of the fire, with no clothes on – you know I’m up for that sort of discussion. Talking’s such a waste of your gorgeous mouth, I always say.’

  I shook her off, took a step back. ‘No, for once let’s talk properly. About us. About whether there’s any future in our relationship.’

  Shit, wasn’t that the phrase Emma had used in that heartless little note to Rob?

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’ After a brief pause she said, ‘Well, I’m not spending the whole night discussing all that crap and going round in effing circles. I can find out what I need to know right now. I’m going to ask you a question and I expect an honest answer, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ I said, warily.

  She hesitated. Then, ‘Can you picture me living here, at Donwell Abbey, with you, in the years ahead?’

  Relief flooded through me. The question I’d feared hadn’t been about her at all … But I needed to consider my answer carefully; I owed her that, at least. So I thought about the past few days and how it had felt to be here with her on my own. Whenever she’d stayed previously, Father and Saffron had been around, filling the silences, fuelling our sense of togetherness.

  But this time there’d been no distractions, no disguise. Away from the heady expat social life of India, I realised we had very little in common. Five years of wild partying, exotic holidays, good sex – and not much else.

  And yet I couldn’t bring myself to say the word ‘no’; such a stark epitaph. Instead, I gave a barely perceptible shake of my head.