The Importance of Being Emma

by Juliet Archer

  ‘No “buts”. I’ll be outside your house at half past eight on Monday morning.’

  Her relief was evident. ‘Thank you, Mark. Always so kind, just like your father.’

  It was over coffee that I really detected Churchill’s Machiavellian tendencies at work. He presented each of us with what he called his ‘special fortune cookie’, a small biscuit wrapped in a piece of tissue-like paper, and instructed us not to open it until we were told.

  ‘Dad and Kate first, I think,’ he said. ‘And read them out, please. There’s a common theme and I’ve got a prize for the person who guesses what it is.’

  Tom opened his little parcel, wolfed down the biscuit and chuckled to himself as he read the piece of paper. ‘This is an old one, Flynn, I’m surprised you’ve heard of it. Listen, everyone: “Blue moon, you saw me standing alone, without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own.” What’s yours, Kate?’

  Kate laughed. ‘Same song, but a different line: “And then suddenly appeared before me, the only one my arms could ever hold.” I can even quote the rest: “I heard somebody whisper, ‘Please adore me’, and when I looked the moon had turned to gold.” One of my all-time favourites.’ She smiled warmly at Flynn. ‘You can’t possibly have known that, though.’

  Churchill grinned back. ‘You’re right, I didn’t. I chose it because it reminded me of you two.’

  ‘Lovely thought,’ Kate said.

  ‘Much appreciated, son,’ Tom added.

  I hadn’t heard ‘Blue Moon’ for years and the lyrics brought me up short. I glanced at Emma, willing her to look in my direction, but she was gazing affectionately at Tom and Kate. Not at Churchill, thank God; at least, not yet.

  ‘Jane, you’re next.’

  At Churchill’s command, Jane started and went pink. ‘Do I have to?’

  For once, she seemed uncomfortable in the spotlight; I stared at her, wondered what was going on behind those dark expressionless eyes.

  ‘I forgot to mention that there’s a forfeit,’ Churchill said briskly. ‘Anyone who objects has to perform the song, not just say the words. So be warned.’

  ‘Jane’s got a wonderful voice,’ Mary put in. ‘People are always asking her to … Who was that man, Jane, who begged you to sing at his wedding? Oh, silly me! It was Charlotte’s husband, wasn’t it, Dan Thingummy-Bob.’

  Emma leaned forward. ‘What did you sing for Dan – and Charlotte, of course?’ Her sudden interest made me suspicious; was she winding Jane up about something?

  Jane went an even deeper shade of pink. ‘It was “The Power of Love”.’

  Emma smirked. ‘Ah yes, “’Cause I am your lady and you are my man, whenever you reach for me I’ll do all that I can” – is that the one?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘Come on,’ Churchill said, ‘read out your fortune cookie before I give you a forfeit.’

  Jane hesitated, then slowly unfolded her piece of paper. ‘It says “I’m hopelessly devoted to” followed by a question mark.’ She added coldly, ‘I’ve no idea what it means.’

  ‘Haven’t you?’ Churchill countered. ‘I’ll move on to Emma, then.’

  I watched Emma closely as she unwrapped her biscuit and read her words in silence. A slow, sweet smile spread across her face, and my heart sank. ‘Mine says “You’re the one that I want”.’ She looked at Churchill. ‘I think I know what the common theme is now, but I’m not a hundred percent sure, so I’d better wait.’ She giggled, then took a small bite out of her biscuit and closed her eyes. ‘Mmmm, ratafia – absolutely delicious. Did you make these yourself?’

  ‘Of course,’ Churchill said smoothly. ‘Your turn, Mary.’

  ‘So exciting, let me just get my reading glasses, I wonder where I put my handbag? Oh, thank you, Tom … Good gracious, these are Mother’s, I must have picked up the wrong ones when I … Mark, would you? So kind.’

  I took Mary’s piece of paper and scanned it quickly; the words seemed harmless enough, and vaguely familiar. I handed the paper back to her. ‘It says: “This car is automatic, it’s systematic, it’s hydromatic.” Very topical.’

  ‘Automatic … systematic … hydromatic … It does sound like my car, doesn’t it? I don’t think mine’s a hydromatic, but it might be … Dave will know, I’ll check with him when I … You said they were all songs, Flynn, but what’s the common theme? Blue moon, hopelessly devoted, the one that I want and now a car – let’s see yours, Mark, that might help.’

  Churchill nodded at me. ‘Go ahead.’

  I opened up the paper, removed the biscuit in order to read the words – and felt the colour drain from my face.

  How could the bastard know? How could he?

  ‘Something the matter?’ Mary said, anxiously.

  With an effort, I brought myself under control. He couldn’t know how I felt about Emma, because I hadn’t told anyone, not even her. He must have chosen these words by accident …

  I cleared my throat. ‘Not at all, I’m just trying to place these lyrics: “Can’t you see, I’m in misery. We made a start, now we’re apart.” Any ideas?’

  In the silence that followed, Mary’s stage whisper to Henry could be heard loud and clear. ‘Poor man, he’s missing Tamara terribly and this has obviously brought it all back to him. A very unfortunate choice of words … ’

  She was way off track, but she’d unwittingly put my mind at rest. I realised that Churchill wasn’t taunting me about Emma at all; he was referring to my break-up with Tamara. Someone would have told him about that during his first day in Highbury, I was sure.

  Still a bastard, only not as clever as I’d thought.

  ~~EMMA~~

  It was the look on Mark’s face that got to me. I wanted to put my arms round him and kiss the sadness away. As a friend, nothing more …

  But the next moment Flynn was murmuring in my ear, ‘Oops, put my foot in it there, didn’t I?’

  I gave him a sympathetic smile and whispered back, ‘You weren’t to know.’

  He raised his voice. ‘So, Em, are you ready to have a guess at the answer?’

  My smile broadened. ‘Depends what the prize is.’

  ‘Can’t say, you’ll just have to trust me when I say it’s worth winning.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘OK then, I think what they all have in common is – ’

  ‘What about Henry?’ Mark put in. ‘He hasn’t read his out yet, it may give more people a chance to win the prize.’

  Flynn hesitated, then shrugged. ‘Henry’s probably gives the game away, but if you insist … ’

  Dad unwrapped his biscuit and stared at it longingly. ‘I don’t think I dare risk it – ’

  ‘The paper, Henry, read out what’s on the paper,’ Batty squeaked.

  He looked down and blanched. ‘Oh dear, I feel quite queasy. It says, “Grease is the word”.’

  ‘Songs from Grease,’ Mark and I said, at exactly the same time.

  ‘Correct, both of you.’ Flynn paused. ‘But you’re the winner, Em, I heard you first.’

  ‘Oh, what a shame, can’t they share the prize?’ Batty said, much to my annoyance.

  He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid it’s not that sort of prize.’

  ‘I’m not bothered in the slightest,’ Mark said heavily, ‘but you could at least tell me what I’m missing.’

  Flynn grinned at him. ‘Sure. I’ll be taking Em out for a meal, no expense spared.’

  My heart skipped a beat. I could picture it now – an intimate candlelit dinner, wine and conversation flowing, and a goodnight kiss … ‘That sounds wonderful,’ I said. ‘We’d better arrange it soon, before everywhere’s booked up for Christmas.’

  Jane got to her feet. ‘I’ve got a migraine coming on. If you don’t mind, I’ll call a taxi and go home.’

  Batty gave a little shriek. ‘Oh, poor Jane, wait until I’ve finished my coffee and I’ll come with you – ’

  ‘You stay here, Mary,’ Mark put in. ‘I’m quite happy to take Jane home
now and come back for you later.’

  While everyone fussed over Jane, I went to the kitchen to make some camomile tea for Dad and me. I’d just put the kettle on and set out the cups and saucers on a tray, when Kate arrived.

  ‘I’m glad I’ve got you on your own, Emma. I’ve been dying to ask – who does Jane remind you of?’

  Several answers sprang to mind, none of them complimentary; I decided to play safe. ‘No idea.’

  ‘Who’ve we met recently with black hair and really white skin?’

  Oh God, she was right; the physical similarity was striking. Why hadn’t I seen it before?

  ‘Tamara,’ I said, slowly. My hand trembled as I poured the boiling water from the kettle into the teapot. Amazingly, I managed it without scalding myself, although I spilled some on the bench.

  Kate was too busy topping up the coffee machine to notice. ‘Exactly. There must be a certain type that appeals to Mark and now he’s falling for Jane hook, line and sinker.’

  Jane Fairfax at Donwell Abbey? Over my dead body!

  ‘What gives you that impression?’ I said, carefully mopping up the water.

  ‘You can just tell,’ she said vaguely. ‘He’s always made it obvious he likes her, but tonight he seems to have moved things up a gear, suggesting all those lifts to work when it’s so far out of his way.’ She took the empty coffee packet over to the bin. ‘And he couldn’t take his eyes off her when she read out, “Hopelessly devoted to” – oh!’ She paused. ‘Well I never, there’s an empty ratafia box in here. Didn’t Flynn say he’d made those biscuits himself?’

  ‘I don’t remember,’ I said impatiently. ‘But I think you’re wrong about Mark and Jane. It’s just his style, he’s always helping people out.’

  ‘You wait and see.’ She closed the bin with a frown. ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Jane takes over where Tamara left off. A man like Mark is never without a woman for long. And don’t forget, Tom and I got together after he gave me a lift home from your dinner party. Maybe she’s asking him in for a nightcap even as we speak – ’

  I slammed the teapot onto the tray. ‘Never. He couldn’t bear it – if he got into any sort of relationship with Saint Jane, he’d have Batty haunting Donwell day and night, and probably Old Mother Bates as well!’

  She laughed. ‘I imagine he’d put up with an awful lot for the right woman.’

  ‘Huh, with her he’d bloody well have to.’

  I marched into the hall with the tray and bumped straight into Flynn.

  ‘Wondered where you were,’ he said, putting his hands on my shoulders to steady me. ‘Thought you might have gone home with a migraine too, but I bet you don’t give up that easily … Did you like the fortune cookie I gave Jane?’

  I smiled up at him. ‘A lot more than she did, by the look of it. She knew you were getting at her and Dan, didn’t she? And did you see how red she went when I asked her what she sang at his wedding?’

  Before he could answer, Batty poked her head round the living room door. ‘Ah, there you are, Emma.’ She sidled up to us. ‘Your father’s asking for his tea and I wouldn’t mind a cup as well, we’re just moving from the table to some more comfortable seats.’

  ‘Allow me.’ Flynn took the tray and dodged past her into the living room.

  I made to follow him, but the blasted woman clung to my arm like a limpet.

  ‘It is camomile, isn’t it, dear? You’re father swears by it for getting to sleep and I could do with a decent night … So much to think about at the moment, what with – ’

  ‘Your car,’ I said hurriedly, before she repeated the whole saga. ‘Yes, it must be a terrible worry.’

  She gave a noisy sigh. ‘It’s not just my own worries, I found poor Sandy Perry in tears when I called this morning with a tiny present for … You’ll never guess what that son of hers has been up to, when I think of how he sang in the church choir for all those years, like a little angel … And apparently, if he does it once more he’ll be expelled from King Edward’s. David’s furious and of course Sandy’s torn between the two of them, such a shame, isn’t it? Anyway, David wants it all hushed up, he is a doctor after all, you’d think he’d know if his son was up to that sort of thing … So don’t breathe a word to anyone – mind, I was so upset that I had to tell Jane, but she’s the soul of discretion.’

  ‘I never gossip,’ I said coolly, trying to shake her off my arm.

  Just then Kate appeared with fresh coffee and I managed to give Batty the slip. For the rest of the evening, I kept well away from her relentless wittering and stayed as close as I could to Flynn. We spent most of the time in stitches at his stories about near disasters on Flynn’s Cook-in.

  At one point, Tom took a phone call from Mark. It seemed he was delayed, but we were not to worry; Jane was safely home and he’d taken the opportunity to deliver some paperwork to one of his directors, which would involve a cup of coffee and a chat. With Kate’s prediction ringing in my ears, I didn’t believe this pathetic explanation for a moment.

  When at last I heard his voice in the hall, I glanced at my watch. It had taken him over an hour to drive to Batty’s front door and back, a journey of less than a mile each way. Had Saint Jane invited him in? Had he kissed her the way he’d kissed me? Had Old Mother Bates heard them and come downstairs, just as Dad had done last night?

  Then I remembered. Old Mother Bates was deaf and could hardly walk without help, let alone cope with the stairs. She couldn’t have interrupted them if she’d tried.

  Did I care what Mark Knightley got up to with Jane Fairfax?

  Absolutely not.

  ~~MARK~~

  Not surprisingly, after taking Jane home I was in no rush to go back to the Westons’. I drove straight on to Kingston and came back to Highbury by an extremely slow and circuitous route. Being in the car reminded me of last night, with Emma sleeping beside me.

  It felt like a century ago.

  When I walked into the living room at Randalls, the first thing I saw was Emma and Churchill in a corner together, laughing their heads off. I sat down beside Henry, refused his offer of cold camomile tea and gratefully accepted Kate’s of freshly brewed coffee.

  Churchill immediately broke off his conversation with Emma and grinned unpleasantly at me. ‘We were wondering where you’d got to, Mark, until you rang and explained. Do you often dish out work on a Saturday night?’

  I kept my tone as neutral as I could. ‘Not usually, but it couldn’t be helped.’

  ‘And how was dear Jane?’ Mary said.

  ‘When I left her, she was about to take a painkiller and go to bed.’

  ‘Did you see Mrs Bates?’ This from Emma, the first time she’d spoken to me all evening.

  Mary gave her a puzzled look. ‘I wouldn’t have thought so, dear. I put Mother to bed before I went out, with the TV on and the phone next to her, of course. And she can’t get very far on her own, as you know.’ She turned to me. ‘I imagine she was asleep by the time you arrived.’

  ‘I imagine she was,’ I said, with a reassuring smile. ‘She certainly didn’t disturb us.’

  Emma jumped up, scowling. ‘Time to go, Dad. I’ll get our coats.’

  I sensed she wasn’t at all happy with my answer, although I couldn’t for the life of me see why.

  ~~EMMA~~

  I vowed never to drink camomile tea again. What was the point of dosing yourself with something that tasted like stewed grass – which technically it was, I suppose – if it didn’t do what it was meant to? Instead of dropping off to sleep instantly, I lay awake for the second night in a row, mulling over everything that had happened.

  Most of the time I thought about Flynn, of course. But there was also Harriet’s incomprehensible fixation with Robert Martin; then that distasteful encounter with Philip and Gusty; and finally, the possibility that Saint Jane would very soon be snugly – or should that be smugly? – installed at Donwell …

  Kate phoned the next morning, with the news that Flynn was com
ing to see me. ‘He’s gone to Mary’s first, she left her mother’s specs here last night and he offered to drop them off on his way to you.’ She paused. ‘Tom and I were just saying, you seem to have made a big impression on him already.’

  I smirked at myself in the mirror above the telephone table, then did a double take. Shit! After that lousy sleep, I looked a complete wreck. ‘When do you think he’ll get here?’ I said, anxiously.

  She laughed. ‘Who knows? He said last time he called at Mary’s he was trapped there for three hours. We all know what she’s like, don’t we?’

  I brought the conversation to an end as soon as I could, and raced upstairs to change my clothes and put on some make-up. Then I waited, and waited …

  After an hour and a half, the phone rang; it was Flynn, full of apologies.

  ‘Made the mistake of asking Mary if there was anything she wanted, as she’s without a car,’ he said. ‘So here I am at Asda, in Kingston, with a list as long as my arm and Jane lecturing me about my expensive tastes.’ He broke off and murmured something, presumably to Saint Jane. He went on, ‘Apparently Mary’s idea of a nice joint of beef is the opposite of mine – she means something you Poms call brisket, whereas I’d rather have a piece of rump any day. And I’ve bought her the biggest one I could find, just to show her the difference.’

  I frowned. ‘How thoughtful. Although I’m surprised Batty asked you to go shopping for her, she’s always been dead against Sunday trading.’

  ‘Ah, but this is an exception, because she couldn’t do any yesterday.’ He sounded more amused than upset by my lack of sympathy. ‘Anyway, Em, what if I come round this afternoon – say two o’clock?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Dad and I are going over to my sister’s,’ I said, trying to hide my disappointment; I added quickly, ‘How about tonight?’

  He hesitated. ‘Sorry, Mary’s invited me to dinner. You can imagine how it went – “It’s the least I can do, so kind of you to take dear Jane shopping” and the rest. God knows I’d get out of it if I could – ’