The Importance of Being Emma

by Juliet Archer

  ‘Hello, Emma Woodhouse speaking.’

  Didn’t she recognise my number – or was she just winding me up?

  ‘I’m outside, I thought we’d go to – ’

  ‘You know, I don’t think we need this meeting any more.’ Her tone was cool and brisk. ‘The matter I wanted to discuss seems to have resolved itself, and anyway I can’t spare the time.’

  I frowned. ‘I’m glad the Elton situation’s improved. But your excuse about being too busy won’t wash – because that’s what mentoring’s about, helping you use your time more effectively.’ I paused, then went on, ‘I don’t think Henry would be very pleased if you cancelled. At this short notice, I can’t really waive my fee.’

  Silence, followed by the tap of high heels on stone steps.

  ‘You’re on your way down, then?’ I said, with a complacent smile.

  ‘No, Mark, I’m just finding somewhere more private to talk. You see, I don’t think Dad would be very pleased if I told him what you did on Friday night.’

  She really should have known better than to go down that route. ‘You mean what we did on Friday night, I seem to remember that you gave as good as you got – ’

  ‘Don’t play games with me, you acted unprofessionally and you know it.’ Her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. ‘The mentoring’s over, can’t you see that?’

  ‘Maybe you’re right.’ I hesitated, then decided to go for it. ‘But I’d still like to take you out for lunch. We need to discuss what happened – properly, where we won’t be disturbed.’

  ‘Some things are better not discussed.’

  ‘Believe me, Emma, this isn’t one of them.’

  Silence again.

  ‘It’s not as if we can avoid each other,’ I said softly. ‘There’s the Board meetings, your company Christmas do, then mine. And whenever John and Izzy bring the kids over, they like to see both of us. It’ll look strange if we – ’

  ‘All right, all right,’ she said, sounding flustered. ‘Only not at the moment, I need some space.’

  A result, of sorts; I didn’t want to push my luck. ‘Fair enough, just say the word when you’re ready to talk. ’Bye for now.’

  She said goodbye and hung up. Instead of returning to the office, I stayed where I was and made a couple of phone calls. Ten minutes later, I was just leaving the car park when I had to swerve to avoid a maniac in a black Alfa Romeo, apparently in a big hurry to get to Highbury Foods. The driver had red hair, rather shorter than when I’d last seen him.

  So she needed space, did she? A Churchill-filled one, by the look of it.

  My father’s return couldn’t come soon enough. Then I’d go straight back to India, giving Emma Woodhouse more space than she could possibly imagine.

  ~~EMMA~~

  Immediately after cancelling my mentoring meeting with Mark, I rang Flynn to say I was ready for lunch whenever he was. I almost skipped up the stairs when he said he’d be straight over. It was all working out very well indeed.

  There was a slight setback, however, as I went past the Finance office. Philip rushed out, ignored my protests about an urgent appointment and launched into a sales pitch about the tremendous value Gusty would add to Highbury Foods. As I’d told Mark, this particular problem seemed to be resolved; now that he had Gusty to go home to, Philip was being much more civil.

  At last I reached my room. Flynn was already there, playing solitaire on my PC, while Jane was hunched over the table, engrossed in a report.

  Flynn jumped up and said dramatically, ‘I’ve come to take you away from this beastly place, my darling, let me carry you off to Forbury Manor.’

  ‘Yes, please,’ I said with a giggle. ‘I’ve been meaning to check it out ever since it was refurbished. We’re having our Christmas party there, as usual.’

  ‘I know, Kate told me, so I thought it’d be the perfect place for the meal I promised you last Saturday.’

  My face fell. ‘I see.’

  ‘Would you prefer to go somewhere else?’

  How to tell him that I’d been hoping my prize would involve a long romantic evening rather than a brief lunch break?

  ‘Not at all,’ I said, as cheerfully as I could.

  On the way to Forbury, Flynn fired off a constant stream of questions about the party. I couldn’t answer most of them and suggested that he ask Kate instead, as she’d organised it for the past few years. All I knew was that we put on a dinner and a disco for all our employees and their partners, with overnight accommodation thrown in. Naturally, Dad and Batty and a few others preferred to go home to their own beds, but we usually ended up taking over all the rooms in the hotel.

  The Manor, a tastefully modernised Georgian pile, was impressive at the best of times; after its recent facelift, it looked positively amazing. The Corporate Events Manager gave us a quick tour; then we discussed the menu and other arrangements for the party, with Flynn contributing some useful ideas. Finally, we sat down to lunch at a table overlooking the gardens. The view was breathtaking: distant woods still ablaze with autumn colour, rolling green-velvet lawns and in front of us, fringed with weeping willows, an ornamental lake, where swans and ducks bickered over pieces of bread.

  There was a perfectly adequate fixed-price menu, but Flynn insisted on going à la carte. ‘I said there’d be no expense spared, remember?’ He gave a wicked grin. ‘It’s also bribery – to make sure I get an invitation to this party.’

  My heart started to thud. It looked like I’d get my romantic evening with him after all; with a couple of hundred other people around, unfortunately, but there’d be plenty of opportunity later for some privacy …

  Then I remembered. ‘I’m afraid Dad’s being very strict on numbers this year – only current employees and their partners, if they’ve got them. He’s made a special exception for Kate because she’s only just left the company.’

  Those dancing green eyes met mine. ‘I’ll go as your partner, then.’

  I raised one eyebrow. ‘What if I’ve already got one?’

  He laughed. ‘But you haven’t. Kate told me.’

  ‘She would,’ I said, pleased that he’d bothered to find out. ‘Trouble is, Dad knows I’m not dating anyone so he hasn’t allowed for a partner in the numbers. Same goes for some of the others, like Harriet and Jane and Mark – ’

  ‘Mark?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘How come he’s invited?’

  ‘He’s temporarily joined our Board as a non-exec, in place of his father. Not exactly an employee, I know, but in any case our families go way back.’

  Another wicked grin. ‘If anyone can wheedle something out of Henry, you can. Tell him I’ll pay my own way – ’

  ‘It’s not the money,’ I put in. ‘It’s just Dad and his funny little rules.’ Out of the corner of my eye I saw the waiter hovering. ‘Look, I’ll ask him as soon as I can find the right moment, but don’t get your hopes up.’

  ‘I can’t help it.’ He gave a deep sigh. ‘You don’t understand how awful my life’s been in Australia since I became a celebrity. And it’s only a matter of time before the press over here get onto me, especially if I do a deal with the BBC. But Kate says the local paper never bothers with the Highbury Foods Christmas party, so this is a chance for me to relax and enjoy myself. I love socializing, you see, just like my father.’ He pulled a face. ‘I suppose I’m just being selfish.’

  ‘You’re not being selfish at all,’ I said indignantly. ‘It’s perfectly natural to want to party, especially at our age. Don’t worry, I’ll get you an invitation.’

  ‘You’re a star, Em. And there’s something else … God, this whole situation is so difficult sometimes, I keep wanting to tell you all about it but – ’

  ‘Are you ready to order, sir?’ It was the waiter, unable to contain himself any longer. I could have throttled him because, by the time he’d finished, Flynn seemed to have completely forgotten what he wanted to tell me. Instead, he started describing Tom’s extension plans for Randalls in the style of a gay interio
r designer, until I was helpless with laughter.

  Heads turned, but I couldn’t have cared less.

  ~~MARK~~

  I wasn’t surprised to get a phone call from Henry about the mentoring. He’d paid a considerable amount of money up front, after all.

  ‘How’s it going?’ he said.

  I hesitated, wondering how best to break the news that it wasn’t. ‘Slowly. So far we’ve only had one proper meeting. I can’t count Ashridge and we had to cancel the one scheduled for last Thursday.’

  ‘And I’ve paid you for six sessions?’

  ‘You have.’

  ‘This isn’t like you, Mark, you’re normally so focused. There’s a problem, isn’t there?’

  ‘Yes.’ I braced myself for a showdown.

  ‘And the problem, of course, is Jane. You feel she’d benefit from your expertise as much as Emma, if not more so.’ He paused, and I decided not to correct him. He went on, ‘I don’t suppose you’d mentor them together for the same price?’

  ‘That would never work,’ I said firmly. ‘It’ll have to be just one of them for the remaining five sessions.’

  ‘Hmmm. Naturally I’d prefer you to continue with Emma, but Jane might never have such a marvellous opportunity again, it would do wonders for her personal development. Hard to choose between them, isn’t it?’

  ‘Very,’ I lied. ‘But it’d better be Jane. As you say, it’s a great opportunity and should make her even more effective while she’s at Highbury Foods.’

  ‘Excellent! I’m sure Emma will understand, when I get round to telling her. In the meantime you can start mentoring Jane – let me know how it goes.’

  So, no more one-to-ones with Emma Woodhouse. No more treading that dangerous line between business and pleasure. No more fighting the temptation to take her in my arms and –

  The relief was indescribable.

  ~~EMMA~~

  Over dinner a few days later, I found the right moment to ask Dad about an invitation to the Christmas party for Flynn. It was surprisingly easy to persuade him; almost as if he felt he owed me one, although I couldn’t think why.

  As soon as he’d settled down with a book in his usual corner of the dining room, I went upstairs, stretched out on my bed and reached for the phone. I smiled to myself as I dialled Flynn’s mobile number.

  He answered immediately, his voice warm and loving. ‘Hello, gorgeous.’

  I giggled. ‘Hello gorgeous, yourself.’

  A pause. Then, ‘Is that you, Em?’

  ‘Yes.’ I added, somewhat confused, ‘Didn’t you recognise my number?’

  ‘Of course.’ Another pause. ‘Just thought I’d check, better safe than sorry.’

  ‘The reception’s a bit dodgy. Where are you?’

  ‘In the Lake District.’ He laughed. ‘Lots of sheep, just like back home.’

  ‘The Lakes? But that’s hundreds of miles away! What are you doing there?’

  ‘It’s a BBC thing, top secret,’ he said. ‘I meant to call and see you before I left, but I ran out of time. Made the mistake of going to say goodbye to the Bateses first and the aunt burbled on for hours.’

  ‘More fool you for going,’ I said drily. ‘When will you be back?’

  ‘Could be a couple of days, could be a few weeks. It depends.’

  ‘A few weeks?’ I let out a long ragged breath. ‘It’s just that I’ve got you an invitation for December 2nd.’

  ‘What’s on December 2nd?’

  I tried to keep the exasperation out of my voice. ‘The Highbury Foods Christmas party, remember?’

  ‘Oh, fantastic! I promise I’ll be there, wouldn’t miss it for the world. Listen, Em, I know we’ve only just met but you must have realised that – ’

  There was a loud crackle and the line went dead. Shit! I slammed down the receiver and frowned at the ceiling. I knew what he’d been going to say, could hear the words as if he was in the room with me: ‘You must have realised that I’m falling in love with you’. Very gratifying, but now everything would grind to a halt while he was in the Lake District.

  Then I forced a smile. After years of waiting, what did a few more weeks matter?

  As it turned out, I was right to be philosophical – Flynn was away until the day of the party. But he phoned me regularly at the office; I could always tell when he was on the line from Harriet’s shrieks of laughter as she took the call.

  Not that the time dragged; I had far too much work to do. Between us, Jane and I planned the research for Harriet’s Secret Recipes with a view to completing everything by Christmas. It was a constant clash of wills. I took a pragmatic approach, where things didn’t have to be perfect as long as they got done. Jane, however, was nothing short of meticulous. For example, she was taking ages to organise the focus groups, because she insisted on recruiting only those people who fitted our rather demanding profile to the letter.

  One morning, I was about to remind her of the consequences of missing our deadline when, out of the blue, she asked if she could take the following week off. The reason that she gave, after much prompting, was ‘a last-minute holiday with a close friend’.

  I thought instantly of Dan and my lips tightened. ‘You haven’t worked here long enough to take five days off, so technically I should say no.’

  She flushed. ‘Please, Emma. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.’

  I relented, motivated by the thought of a whole week in the office without her and having the focus groups organised by the time she came back. But I didn’t ask her a single question about her holiday, either before or after. Nobody would be able to accuse me of conniving in her sordid little affair.

  Batty also asked me to help her prepare for the Christmas party, in particular choosing a special menu for Dad and allocating rooms to those who were staying overnight. I took full advantage of my position and made sure Flynn’s room was next to mine.

  To my relief, I heard nothing more from Mark. But I had a new person to avoid: Gusty. She started pestering Dad to hire her for a strategic financial audit, whatever that was – something Mark had apparently already commissioned her to do for Donwell Organics. Dad kept stalling, which meant that Gusty pestered me instead, convinced that I would influence him on her behalf. When I stopped taking her phone calls, she swept into my office one day and confronted me; but I told her straight that I wasn’t prepared to discuss the subject – with Dad, or her, or anyone else.

  At this point, she switched her attentions to Jane. It was rather amusing to listen to her gushing compliments alternating with Jane’s monosyllabic brush-offs. She even assured Jane that her talents were wasted at Highbury Foods and offered to get her a much better job through her Maple Grove contacts. The cheek of it, poaching a member of my staff right under my nose! I almost sent Gusty packing there and then.

  But I didn’t; because by now I was wishing Saint Jane miles away from Highbury. Working with her was a nightmare, thanks to our completely different styles; and I had another, more altruistic reason. Batty let slip that Mark had taken Jane out for a very long and expensive lunch the previous Saturday. Jane didn’t mention it, of course, and I didn’t ask her.

  It shouldn’t have mattered one jot what Mark Knightley chose to do with Jane Fairfax. But somehow it did.

  After all, even Mark didn’t deserve to have Donwell Abbey infested by Battys.

  ~~MARK~~

  Emma had asked me for space and that’s exactly what she got. I even avoided Henry, just in case I bumped into her. After my first mentoring meeting with Jane, instead of giving him an update in person as I would have preferred, I made do with a phone call.

  There wasn’t much to tell. I’d found it difficult to establish rapport with her, although I’d chosen what I thought was a relaxed time and setting – lunch on a Saturday at the newly opened Box Hill Restaurant. Still, as I said to Henry, it was early days.

  And, as I didn’t say to Henry, it had been infinitely easier than dealing with his daughter.

&nb
sp; But I wouldn’t be able to avoid Emma at the Highbury Foods Christmas party. Or Churchill, who would no doubt be glued to her side. Or everyone’s comments about how they made such a lovely couple.

  As soon as I saw her that evening, the longing twisted inside me like a knife. She was standing beside the Christmas tree in Reception, talking animatedly on her mobile. Unnoticed, I took in every detail of her appearance. Stunning dress, white and strapless and hugging her body as though she’d been poured into it. Hair falling in glossy waves around her face. Eyes and lips provocatively defined, as if daring someone to accuse her of wearing too much make-up. And above the curve of her breasts a diamond pendant, its sparkle outshone by the golden lustre of her skin …

  I turned and made for the nearest drink.

  ~~EMMA~~

  My big night – or rather mine and Flynn’s – had arrived at last.

  He phoned me to say he was running late, but I couldn’t be angry with him; the important thing was that he’d come back specially from the Lakes just to be here.

  When a tall figure in black entered the room carrying two champagne flutes, my heart missed a beat. I soon realised my mistake, however; it was Mark, not Flynn. I gave him a tight little smile and received a curt nod in return. For a moment, I thought he was bringing one of the glasses to me, as a peace offering. But no, he headed for Jane, who was looking about as happy as a turkey on Christmas Eve.

  Eventually Flynn appeared in the doorway, heart-stoppingly handsome in a white tux. He came straight over and kissed me lightly on the cheek. I’d been hoping for something rather more passionate, but I curbed my impatience.

  ‘Sorry, Em, I’m even later than I expected. All in a good cause – I’ve been looking at the seating plan with Kate, to check I’m paired off with you.’