By the time coffee was served, however, I felt I couldn’t delay any longer.
I took a deep breath. ‘Harriet, I’ve got something really awful to tell you.’
She clattered her elegant little bone china cup down on its saucer. ‘Is it about Rob? Is he going out with someone else?’
‘No, it’s not about him, why on earth would you think – ?’ I broke off, took another deep breath and tried again. ‘It’s Philip. It seems we’ve been – mistaken about him.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘He’s gay, isn’t he? Trace says these days most of the shaggable ones are.’
I thought of Saturday night and suppressed a shudder. ‘He’s certainly not gay.’ I looked her straight in the eye. ‘He doesn’t fancy you. It’s me he’s been after, all along.’
She stared at me, a strange glassy stare, and her face turned a peculiar whitish green.
‘If it’s any consolation,’ I added gently, ‘I’m pretty sure he doesn’t fancy me now.’
Then, to my dismay – and that of everyone else in the restaurant – she lurched to her feet and said in a loud voice, ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
I held my napkin to her mouth and bundled her into the Ladies, just in time. As I stood outside the cubicle listening to her throwing up the entire contents of her stomach, I decided it was as though she was cleansing herself of the excesses I’d been feeding her – Philip’s supposed infatuation as much as Pierre’s cooking.
Eventually, the retching stopped.
I tapped on the cubicle door. ‘Would you like me to take you home?’
‘Yes, please, but only so I can get changed.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘I’m coming back to work.’
‘Oh, Harriet, there’s no need, just take the afternoon off – ’
‘No, I’d rather be in the office with you than home alone.’
I wasn’t sure that was meant as a compliment, but I didn’t argue. While she washed her face, I went to pay the bill and fetch our things.
On the way to her house, she asked the question I was dreading. ‘How did you find out about – about all this?’
I sighed and launched into edited highlights of my journey home with Philip. I left out his insulting remarks about her, of course, and my fears for my safety, and finished with an apology. ‘I’m so sorry, I should have realised what was going on right from the start. And I can’t forgive myself for misleading you and building your hopes up.’
‘You didn’t do it on purpose,’ she said sadly. ‘You were just being nice. No one else would have believed that someone like him could fancy someone like me.’
As I waited outside Harriet’s house, I decided she was behaving very sensibly about the whole thing. If I ever wanted to acquire a sort of childlike simplicity, Harriet Smith would make a great role model. Then I remembered who I was. Like it or not, I would never get away with childlike simplicity; the name Emma Woodhouse was synonymous with sophisticated complexity.
But I could take some learnings from this experience, especially around self-awareness. I reached for my personal organiser and set myself three little goals: to take no one at face value ever again; to focus on completing the Harriet’s Secret Recipes research project; and to stop matchmaking. Which would be a real shame because there was a new solicitor at Thrayles, our legal advisors, who might suit Harriet very nicely.
Back in the office, I had some final words of wisdom for Harriet. ‘I think Philip’s unprofessional behaviour at the Board meeting is just the beginning. My advice – not that you have to take it, of course – is to keep well out of his way.’
She shook her head. ‘No need, I’ve just checked his horoscope for the next month and he’s entering a period of harmony and growth in his personal relationships.’ She gave a trembling smile. ‘You realise what that means, Emma? I’ve still got a chance with him after all!’
My heart sank. Getting Harriet to face reality was going to be harder than I’d thought. I could only hope that Philip would indirectly help me out – by being as obnoxious as possible.
~~MARK~~
I called at Hartfield on my way home after dinner with the Board – against my better judgement, but I needed to finalise arrangements for Ashridge with Emma. Although I could have phoned her, I decided to use this as a practice run for the next day.
When she opened the door and saw it was me, her face lit up in a mischievous grin. ‘This is a great honour, are you sure you can spare the time out of your busy schedule? Or are you looking forward to our little outing so much that you’ve turned up half a day early?’
I smiled, in spite of myself, and stepped into the hall. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, I just came to bring your tin back. You should be very proud of me, I managed to make that delicious cake last longer than a day.’ I gave her the tin, making sure our fingers didn’t touch.
This was the way to do it, keep everything at the level of brotherly banter.
‘Thank you.’ She put the tin down on a marble-topped telephone table nearby and picked up a folded white handkerchief. ‘And I’ve been meaning to return this.’
Instead of handing it to me, she leaned forward and tucked it into my breast pocket. I closed my eyes; tried to shut out her nearness, even as I breathed in her perfume …
‘Are you tired?’ Her voice was soft – with sympathy, not seduction.
My eyes flew open. ‘Yeah, sorry, it’s been a long day.’
She drew back, thank God. ‘I hope you get a good night’s sleep, you’ve another long day tomorrow,’ she said, her tone brisk again. ‘What time are you picking me up?’
‘I thought twelve thirty, from Highbury Foods.’
‘Great, I’ll make sure I have everything I need with me. I’m taking a change of clothes for the evening, they said the dress code was business wear but – ’
‘They?’ I said, sharply.
She blushed. ‘I phoned Ashridge.’
‘Before or after Henry rang me?’
‘Before.’ She shot me a provocative look from under her eyelashes. ‘I was curious when you said the speaker wasn’t anyone I’d know.’
Curious? That was laughable. She’d phoned Ashridge because she was determined to outmanoeuvre me. She’d got the information she needed, fed Henry some crap about being Charles Durham’s biggest fan and left him to do the rest. Between them, they’d wrong-footed me completely.
Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well that night. The practice run had not been a success and the prospect of our visit to Ashridge stretched out before me like a minefield.
One false step could be fatal.
Chapter Six
~~EMMA~~
On Friday morning, I was at my desk composing a letter to selected customers about the focus groups, when I heard someone come into the outer office.
Batty’s voice wafted through the open door of my room. ‘ … Mother’s terribly sore chest, all the coughing you know, must get David Perry out to her as soon as … Now here’s Harriet, she’ll be your PA.’
I stopped typing immediately. Who was she talking to?
My worst fears were realised when she babbled on, ‘This is Jane, Harriet. I know we didn’t expect her quite so soon, but it’s wonderful to have her any time, of course, and I’ve cleared it all with Henry just now. She’s starting properly on Monday, today’s a – what did you call it, dear?’
‘An orientation day, to get my bearings.’
That voice. I’d never yet heard it raised in anger, or breathless with excitement, or anything other than bland, monotonous and intensely irritating.
Batty tittered. ‘Such a clever girl, you can tell she doesn’t take after me! Emma’s through here, dear, I expect you’ll be sharing her office, unless … ’
Infuriating pause. Unless – what? In a bid to defend my territory, I almost sprinted across the room and came face to face with Saint Jane.
She was, as usual, a picture of restraint: not a dark hair out of place, eyes demurely downcast, expression so bloody pious
. Dressed in a plain black suit and prim white shirt, she looked like a terrifyingly efficient female undertaker.
I smiled brightly and held out my hand. ‘Jane. Great to see you.’
‘Emma.’ Her fingers brushed mine with all the impact of a limp lettuce leaf.
I turned to Batty who was fidgeting beside her. ‘Pity you didn’t tell me about this, Mary, I’m going out shortly and I won’t be around for the rest of the day.’
‘So sorry, Emma, it’s all been a bit last-minute.’ She lowered her voice to a furtive whisper. ‘Jane couldn’t bear to stay in Weymouth once Charlotte and Dan left. That’s the Campbells’ daughter and her husband, they’ve gone to live in Ireland, Jane’s missing them already, aren’t you, dear?’
Jane said nothing.
‘They wanted her to go with them, Dan even offered to fix her up with something at his company in Dublin, he’s in marketing, isn’t he, Jane?’
I could have sworn Saint Jane blushed, and I began to wonder …
‘The timing wasn’t right,’ she said, removing an imaginary speck of dirt from her sleeve.
Much to my annoyance, Batty changed the subject. ‘Then a friend offered her a lift to Highbury, too good an opportunity to miss, dropped her off here barely an hour ago. Who was it, Jane?’ – shrill giggle – ‘I don’t believe you told me, was it a man?’
‘It’s not important, Aunt Mary.’
I cut in with, ‘Why don’t we have a little chat, Jane? Come into my office’ – delicate emphasis on the ‘my’ – ‘but I can only spare half an hour, I’m afraid.’
‘Marvellous, Emma, I’ll leave you girls to it,’ Batty simpered, while Jane followed me into my room.
We sat at opposite sides of the table and I leaned forward encouragingly. ‘Tell me about your degree course, then I can see where you’d be most useful.’
She folded her hands neatly in her lap and studied her skirt. ‘If you like, although I think it’s all sorted. I’ve had a brief word with Henry and he thought I’d be ideal for the Harriet’s Secret Recipes project. It also meets my course requirements perfectly – taking something from a sketchy concept and seeing it right through to its launch.’
Sketchy concept? Was that how Dad had described all the work I’d done to date? Somehow I doubted it; it was more the sort of thing dear Jane would say as she prepared to step in and take all the credit.
‘Really? How do you plan to do that?’ I asked, through clenched teeth.
She proceeded to drone on about various marketing tools and how she would apply them to my project: Ansoff’s Matrix, the AIDA model, the Marketing Mix and so on. I knew them all backwards, so I doodled on my notepad and waited for Mark to arrive. At last, I heard his deep voice in the outer office, followed by an inevitable giggling fit from Harriet.
I got to my feet. ‘Very interesting, Jane, but we’ll have to leave it there. You remember Mark Knightley? He’s just arrived to take me to an important business engagement and we need to get away promptly.’
As I went towards the door to show her out, it opened abruptly and Mark cannoned into me.
He drew back instantly, without even looking at me. ‘My fault, sorry.’ Then, in a much more cordial tone, ‘Jane, lovely to see you again. It’s been so long, I hardly recognised you.’ He seized her hand and shook it for several seconds.
She smiled, ever so briefly. ‘Mark.’
He continued, his eyes fixed on her, ‘I didn’t realise you were in a meeting – ’
‘We’ve just finished,’ I said coldly. ‘See you on Monday, Jane. In the meantime, I’ll have a think about where I can put your amazing expertise to good use.’
She murmured her thanks and slipped out of the room.
Mark shut the door behind her. Then he turned to me and said quietly, ‘Have you seen Elton today?’
‘No, thank God.’
‘So you don’t know that – ’
Before he could finish, Batty burst in. ‘So sorry to interrupt, but I thought you’d both want to hear the news as soon as possible.’
I covered my irritation with a thin smile. ‘What news is that?’
‘Philip’s got a girlfriend! He met her in Bristol and she’s coming to stay with him this weekend, he’s only known her a few days, must be serious, mustn’t it? Funny, I always thought he was after someone much nearer to home.’ She shot me a coy glance.
I flushed and said nothing.
Mark cleared his throat. ‘That’s what I was about to tell you, Emma.’
Batty’s face fell. ‘And how did you find out?’
‘From Elton himself. I was passing his office just now and he rushed out to ask if I could recommend somewhere for a romantic dinner. Before I could answer, he went off into a long explanation of his eyes meeting this woman’s across a crowded room and hardly being apart from her since.’
‘That’s more or less what happened with me, except he wanted the name of a reliable cleaning lady,’ – she lowered her voice until it was barely audible – ‘because Gusty would be practically living with him from now on and she’s highly allergic to household dust.’
I frowned. ‘What did you call her? For a moment I thought you said Gusty – ’
‘That’s right, odd sort of name, must be short for something, let me think … ’
Mark raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, Mary, I hope you helped him out with a cleaner. We wouldn’t want Gusty to get dusty, would we?’
It was a lame joke, but we all burst out laughing anyway. I for one needed to relieve some tension; the effect of having Saint Jane around, no doubt.
Batty got her breath back first, of course. ‘Oh dear, I couldn’t help him, although I did wonder about Mrs Burn,’ – knowing look at Mark – ‘she might want the work if you’re going back to India to, um, sort things out with … ?’
‘I’m not going anywhere until my father’s home, as planned,’ he said smoothly. ‘But I’ll ask Mrs Burn if she can spare a few hours. And now Emma and I really must go. Otherwise, from what John’s told me, we’ll be spending the afternoon parked on the M25. Got everything, Emma? We can call in on Henry on our way out.’
I grabbed my Louis Vuitton dress carrier and briefcase and almost hustled Batty out of the room. Harriet was nowhere to be seen, so I scribbled her a note of the work she needed to do and followed Mark along to Dad’s office.
Dad was at his desk, contemplating a dry cracker with the air of a martyr.
‘Don’t wait up,’ I said, ‘we’ll probably be back quite late. But I’ll phone you after dinner, just so you know I’ve survived Ashridge’s haute cuisine.’
‘Yes, do that, darling. And Mark – drive carefully, won’t you?’
I cut in before Mark could answer. ‘Come on, Dad, you know I couldn’t be in safer hands.’
With a reassuring smile, I kissed my father goodbye and left him to the prospect of an even quieter evening than usual.
~~MARK~~
The journey to Ashridge went quickly, despite a build-up of traffic on the M25. A light rain was falling, nothing too troublesome. I’d brought a lunch of sandwiches and fruit, which we ate in the car.
At first we talked about family matters: John, Izzy and the children, my father’s latest cruise report and her father’s current health fad. Then, as the traffic started to flow more freely, I tackled her about Jane Fairfax.
‘I’m pleased you decided to have Jane working in Marketing.’
She gave a scornful laugh. ‘Actually I didn’t, it was decided for me. Batty can be so bloody devious sometimes and Saint Jane’s just as bad.’
I pretended she hadn’t spoken. ‘She’ll be an asset to your team. Highly intelligent, I seem to remember.’
She went straight on the defensive. ‘Are you suggesting I’m not?’
‘Not at all, but I have a few doubts about your emotional intelligence.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning you have to learn to get on with the Jane Fairfaxes of this world. And you’ll mee
t far worse, believe me.’ I glanced at her; she was frowning, and the tip of her tongue was just visible between her lips. I kept my eyes firmly on the road ahead and continued, ‘I can’t understand what you’ve got against Jane. You really should be more friendly to her, she’s had nothing like the advantages in life that you’ve had.’
‘No obvious reason, then, for her to be so – so stuck up!’
‘She’s just shy.’
Another scornful laugh. ‘I’d call her sly, not shy. And I’m suspicious about this Weymouth fiasco. I think she’s had a fling with her friend’s husband but he doesn’t want to leave his wife, who’s just moved to Ireland with him. He wanted Saint Jane to go too, so she must be playing hard to get by coming here … Not that I know anything for definite,’ she said hurriedly. ‘Just call it a woman’s intuition.’
I refrained from pointing out that her woman’s intuition had let her down big time where Elton was concerned. I merely said, ‘You’d better keep your thoughts to yourself, you know how fast rumours spread in Highbury.’
She was highly indignant. ‘I don’t spread rumours, I wouldn’t dream of lowering myself to gossip about people.’ She added, without any apparent irony, ‘By the way, Kate says Flynn Churchill’s in London today, meeting the BBC about a TV contract worth mega bucks. He’s spending the week in town, then coming to Highbury. Just think, we’ll meet him at last!’
‘I can’t wait.’
‘You’re always rubbishing him when you don’t even know him.’
I managed a grim smile. ‘No, and I don’t particularly want to, unlike the rest of Highbury. I don’t approve of the way he treats Tom – and now Kate. Of course, if they’d been the ones with the money, you wouldn’t have been able to keep him away.’
‘You think it all boils down to money, don’t you? You can’t imagine he has genuine feelings for that old dragon Stella!’ Her tone softened. ‘I think he must be a very kind and considerate man, putting up with her all this time.’
My patience snapped. ‘It just doesn’t add up. If he’s so kind and considerate, why isn’t he like that with Tom?’
The Importance of Being Emma Page 13