The Importance of Being Emma

by Juliet Archer

  ‘Here’s the really nice present I got you.’ He gave Emily a wary look. ‘Hope she doesn’t throw up, this is my best shirt. Still, it looks as though I’ll have to get used to having a baby around.’

  I felt my face flush with embarrassment. ‘But I haven’t got you anything!’

  ‘Just open it, woman.’

  Inside the box was a pair of ornate sapphire and diamond earrings. Not to my taste at all and, judging by the name on the lid, horribly expensive. Grant’s of Kingston was renowned for its showy jewellery and high prices; Tom had bought Kate’s engagement ring there, against my recommendation.

  With a pretence at regret, I said, ‘A very generous gift, but I can’t possibly accept it.’

  ‘That’s a real shame.’ But he didn’t sound at all disappointed; and he snatched the box back rather too quickly for my liking.

  My eyes narrowed. ‘Did you buy these for somebody else?’

  He gave a nervous laugh. ‘How did you guess?’

  ‘Oh, it’s my feminine intuition, it can be a real curse at times,’ I said in a friendlier tone, thinking that these monstrosities were just the sort of thing Harriet would adore – provided she thought they were fake.

  He hesitated, then said in a low voice, ‘I was going to give them to a certain person we both know, but I was scared she’d hate them so I bottled out. And Kate and Dad assumed they were for you, so I decided I’d better play along. You see, I’m in their bad books because of all the time I’m spending away from Highbury.’ He added, with a beguiling grin, ‘Don’t suppose you’d wear them, just while we’re here? It’d do my credibility a power of good.’

  Fortunately for him, this last revelation deprived me of the power of speech.

  He went on, ‘I’d need them back, of course, but there’s no rush. How about it?’

  I took a deep, steadying breath. ‘I don’t think so. If “a certain person” means so much to you, surely you’d want her to be the first to wear them. And remember, she works for me. I know she’ll love them, she might just need some persuading to accept them. It’s early days, after all.’

  He laughed. ‘You’re right, I need to be patient, she’s not used to being showered with expensive gifts. Em, you’re a star!’ He hugged me with such enthusiasm that Emily got almost crushed between us and started to cry.

  I drew back with a tight little smile. ‘See if you can calm Emily down, you obviously need the practice. Excuse me while I go and check on the lunch.’

  It was a relief to escape to the kitchen and busy myself with undemanding tasks; I steamed the green vegetables, made the gravy and added the finishing touches to Dad’s alternative Christmas meal, which this year was a daring combination of poached lemon sole followed by natural yogurt.

  At half past two, when Kate, Tom and Flynn had left, the rest of us sat down to lunch. Dad and I were at opposite ends of the dining table and I put Mark next to Dad, as far away from me as possible. Only trouble was, every time I spoke to Dad, I found myself looking at him.

  Needless to say, Izzy’s sole topic of conversation was Kate’s pregnancy. Over the turkey, she and Dad commiserated about all the possible complications Kate’s age might cause. By the time I handed round the Christmas pudding and mince pies, she’d moved on to the subject of Randalls.

  ‘They’ll have far too much work to do on that house before June,’ she said, disapprovingly. ‘It’s not at all suitable for a baby, you’d think they’d have sorted that first before she got pregnant.’

  ‘Accidents can happen,’ Mark said shortly.

  At his words, my spoon clattered loudly against my plate.

  Izzy gave him a frosty look. ‘But they’re old enough to know better – ’

  ‘Aren’t we all?’ he countered. ‘Anyway, it’s entirely their business. Henry, would you like me to pass you a mince pie to liven up that yogurt?’

  Dad shuddered. ‘No thank you, Mark, you’ve obviously forgotten what dried fruit does to me or you wouldn’t even suggest it … But now I come to think about it, Emma, is there any of that nice stewed apple left from the other day?’

  ‘I’m sure there is.’ I stood up, glad to have an excuse to leave the table. As well as the conversation making me uncomfortable, I felt as though I’d eaten too much. Or maybe it was something else. As I crossed the hall, I stopped. I hadn’t been mistaken; there it was again, a familiar dull ache in my stomach.

  Instead of going to the kitchen, I made my way slowly upstairs to the bathroom.

  ~~MARK~~

  When Churchill gave Emma a little jeweller’s box, any relief I’d felt at Tom’s announcement evaporated. I just knew it contained an engagement ring. Sick to my stomach, I watched her look at it in awe and presumably suggest they held off a while, so as not to steal Kate and Tom’s thunder. And then the bastard took her in his arms, right there, in front of everyone. At that point, I became intensely interested in Bella’s new Barbie doll.

  Things improved after he left. Over lunch, Emma appeared to be heeding my words about making an effort in front of the family. But Izzy had to go and spoil it all, harping on about Kate’s pregnancy. Naturally, she had no idea it was such a sensitive topic for some of us; she just saw it as the ideal opportunity to demonstrate her expertise in such matters. Eventually I changed the subject to Henry’s diet, which could usually be guaranteed to dominate any conversation.

  I sensed that Emma was as dismayed as I was by Izzy’s comments. She certainly took a long time to fetch Henry’s stewed apple and, when she returned, she looked pale and drawn. In fact, during our customary walk after lunch she barely said a word, even to the kids.

  As soon as we got back to Hartfield, I decided I’d had enough. I said my goodbyes and fended off the kids’ pleas to come back to Donwell Abbey, knowing that the only company I’d be fit for that evening was a bottle of whisky.

  Emma had gone to the kitchen to make some tea. I popped my head round the door, intending to say thank you and goodbye as quickly as possible. But the words died on my lips. She was standing with her back to me, the tea tray all ready on the table next to her. At first glance, I thought she was just daydreaming; then I noticed she was hugging her stomach and her shoulders were shaking, as though she was crying. I paused in the doorway, paralysed by indecision. Should I go to her, or not?

  At last I spoke, my voice hoarse with a cocktail of emotions – fear, frustration, yearning, love. ‘Emma – what is it, what’s wrong?’

  She straightened up immediately, lifted the lid of the teapot and stirred the contents with a spoon. I couldn’t see her face, but she sounded calm enough, matter-of-fact even.

  ‘It’s only stomach cramps, the ones I get every month. They can be quite painful until the ibuprofen takes effect.’

  It took a few seconds for the message to sink in. ‘So you’re not pregnant,’ I said, quietly. I stepped forward, arms outstretched, aching to offer comfort.

  ‘No, I’m not … Thank God.’ She spoke loudly and distinctly, her meaning unmistakable.

  I stopped short and let my arms fall to my sides. What good was comfort if she felt only relief? ‘You’re right, perhaps it’s for the best,’ I heard myself say.

  She didn’t answer, just poured the tea carefully into the cups.

  I cleared my throat. ‘As I said in that letter, if you’re not pregnant then maybe we should just forget what happened.’

  A pause; then, ‘Believe me, I already have.’

  I didn’t believe for one moment she had, but I certainly believed she wanted to.

  Slowly, silently, I turned and walked to the front door.

  ~~EMMA~~

  He’d caught me unawares in the kitchen but I was pretty sure I’d put on a convincing act. I mean, he certainly hadn’t hung around, hadn’t even said goodbye. He must have been as relieved as I’d pretended to be.

  Ironic, wasn’t it? I’d only just decided I would tell him I wasn’t pregnant, to get him out of the way. Then along came my period, right on cue,
making the lie totally unnecessary. I should have been delighted that there would be no obvious consequences from that disastrous night. Life could return to normal once he went back to India. So why did I feel so empty? Why did I wish I was pregnant, if only – out of pure selfishness – to have a little part of him to myself? It was crazy, so crazy that I almost laughed out loud. Except – I couldn’t; I felt more like crying.

  I was about to take the tray through to the drawing room, when John came in.

  ‘Thought you must have gone to China to pick the tea leaves,’ he said. ‘Presumably Mark delayed you.’

  I gave a wan smile. ‘Not really, he was only here a couple of minutes.’

  ‘Oh?’ He took the tray from me. ‘What’s going on between you two, anyway?’

  ‘Going on?’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘For God’s sake, your sister and father may be blind as bats but any normal person can see that something’s up. And I can always tell when Mark’s rattled.’ He looked straight at me, waiting for an answer.

  I took a deep breath and chose to be extremely economical with the truth. ‘I guess his professional pride has taken a bit of a battering. Dad asked him to mentor me, but it hasn’t worked out.’

  John gave a loud guffaw. ‘You mean Mark got Henry to pay for something he’s been doing free of charge for years? Crafty devil. So why hasn’t it worked out?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. Why don’t you ask him?’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, I will.’ And he strode out of the kitchen like a man on a mission.

  Chapter Twelve

  ~~MARK~~

  Early on Boxing Day, the phone beside my bed rang and rang – until I answered it, purely in the hope that the caller would then leave me in peace.

  A voice barked in my ear, ‘We’re coming home.’ It was Father, sounding on the verge of an apoplectic fit.

  ‘I know, in February,’ I muttered, my brain fogged with sleep and whisky.

  ‘No, we’re coming home now. Well, as soon as we can. Once we’ve put into port, we’re going to get off this bloody boat and stay on dry land until we find a flight. Might manage it before New Year if we’re lucky.’

  I sat bolt upright. ‘You’re not ill, are you?’

  ‘Nothing like that, it’s the lifestyle. Far too much food and no decent exercise, I’m longing to be back on the golf course. I’ve been complaining to Saffron for weeks but she wouldn’t listen until today.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Got herself weighed this morning and went beserk. She’d put on three pounds – only three bloody pounds! I feel as if I’ve put on thirty, I’m going to have to spend the next six months getting it off.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘Look, if you’re – ’

  He ignored me and went on, ‘She’s driving me round the bend, it’s no fun seeing so much of her, I can’t – ’ He broke off, then said more calmly, ‘Sorry, I interrupted you, what were you going to say?’

  ‘Just – if you’re coming home early, how do you feel about me going straight back to India rather than staying until February?’

  He laughed. ‘No problem, I’ll be glad of the excuse to be in the office for hours on end. Missing Tamara, are you?’

  I hesitated, debating whether to tell him about Tamara in case it made him even more stressed; I decided to get it over and done with.

  ‘Actually, we broke up a couple of months ago.’

  ‘Ah.’ He didn’t sound particularly surprised. ‘Sorry to hear that, but it’s best to find out now. I mean, I did wonder if you were planning to settle down – ’

  ‘Definitely not. Not with her or anyone else. Anyway,’ I said in a brisker tone, ‘let me have the flight details as soon as you know them. In the meantime, I’ll get Mrs Burn to give the house an early spring clean.’

  After the call I lay back, hands clasped behind my head, thinking about the implications of returning to India ahead of schedule. On the work front, it was unfortunate; there were a couple of initiatives I’d have liked to see through to completion, particularly the Parkinson contract. But this paled into insignificance beside the impact on my personal life; within one or two weeks I’d be thousands of miles away from the future Mrs Emma Churchill, in a place that could trigger no memories of her.

  For the first time in a long while, I felt almost cheerful.

  ~~EMMA~~

  Although our offices were closed for two weeks over Christmas and New Year, Harriet returned to Highbury after only a few days with her family. When she called me up to announce that she had something to show me, my thoughts went immediately to the earrings that Flynn had bought. He’d gone back to the Lake District until New Year, still refusing to tell me what he was up to with the BBC, but I wondered if he’d left them for her at her house.

  I wasted no time in inviting her over. We sat next to each other on the sofa in the drawing room, warming ourselves in front of the fire and agreeing that, this year, we’d both have preferred to spend Christmas Day somewhere else. She explained that she’d have liked to stay in Highbury and looked wistful, no doubt imagining a romantic encounter with Flynn. But I didn’t elaborate on my situation, the strain of seeing Mark and the repercussions – or lack of them – from that night at Forbury Manor. I merely said that I hadn’t felt as relaxed as usual with my family.

  Eventually she produced what she’d come to show me. It was a little jeweller’s box. I tried to suppress a sense of déjà vu – even though I could see it wasn’t the one Flynn had given me so half-heartedly. She prised it open and thrust it under my nose.

  There was no need to act amazed; I would never have guessed what it contained, ever. ‘Um, what exactly are these?’

  She made a face. ‘This is’ – dramatic pause – ‘my life.’

  I was even more confused. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘What I mean is, this was my life when I fancied Philip. Daft, innit? But now I’ve moved on, so I thought we could burn these, symbollocks like.’

  ‘Symbolic,’ I said automatically; then, ‘No, symbollocks is far more appropriate where Philip’s concerned. But you mustn’t burn any of them until you’ve told me what they are.’

  She settled herself more comfortably on the sofa, cocked her head on one side and studied the contents of the box.

  ‘We’ll start with this.’ With an embarrassed smile, she showed me a little bottle of Tippex.

  I stared at it blankly.

  ‘Don’t you remember?’ she screeched. ‘Philip was in our office and I’d spilt a bit of coffee on those mock-ups you’d spent ages over and my Tippex was all dried up so I couldn’t use it. And you didn’t have any so Philip brought some and said we could keep it. I put it in this box and I used to take it out and touch it, because he’d touched it.’

  ‘I do remember it now.’ I bit my lip. ‘And I’m ashamed to say I had two bottles of Tippex in my drawer all along. But I pretended there wasn’t any, so that he’d run round after you.’

  She shrugged, replaced the Tippex in the box and picked up a folded piece of yellow paper. When she opened it out, I saw that there were a few words scribbled on it: ‘milk’, ‘Rice Krispies’, ‘Anusol’.

  ‘Philip’s shopping list.’ She frowned. ‘What’s Anusol?’

  I couldn’t help giggling. ‘Dad’s got some, it’s for piles. Poor Philip, now he’s got Gusty – which must be considerably worse. Where on earth did you get this?’

  ‘At his house after the photo shoot, it was next to the computer. He mustn’t have wanted us to see it ’cos he threw it in the waste paper basket, but I fished it out when I went back for your camera.’

  There were some other ‘relics’: the stub of a pencil, well chewed; a half-eaten chocolate bar; and a rather suggestive doodle on a scrap of file paper.

  She gave a deep sigh. ‘And now I’m going to chuck the whole lot on the fire.’

  ‘Not the Tippex, it’s flammable!’ I snatched the bottle out of the box. ‘Actually, there’s quite a lot left in here, don’t you want to keep it?’
>
  A steely look came into her big blue eyes. ‘No. It’s all got to go.’

  ‘Throw everything else on the fire, then, except the box. I don’t think that’ll burn easily, I’ll put it in the dustbin later.’ I paused. ‘You know, I have a funny feeling you’ll be getting another little box soon, but I’m not going to say any more.’

  ‘You’re so clever, ’cos I’ve just been thinking about starting one for – ’

  I held up my hand. ‘Don’t even breathe his name. If you don’t tell me, then I can’t interfere!’ I added, with a laugh, ‘But of course I know who you mean and I think it’s lovely.’

  ‘Do you? I thought you’d say he’d never want to go out with someone like me in a million years.’

  ‘Oh Harriet, I wouldn’t dream of saying anything like that. For a start, I don’t know him that well – ’

  ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘Not well enough to discuss things like that, at any rate. Anyway, I’m not saying another word about it.’

  She gazed dreamily into the fire. ‘Bet he’s a great shag. I couldn’t take my eyes off him when he was dancing at the Christmas party, best butt there.’

  ‘I’ve seen better,’ I said tautly, suppressing a vivid recollection of Mark’s back view.

  ‘Have you? And there’s me thinking you need to get out more! By the way, why don’t you come to the pub on New Year’s Eve? There’s bound to be someone you fancy, specially when you’ve had a few Lambrinis.’

  I forced a smile. ‘Thanks, but I don’t really feel like it. Dad and I’ve been invited to the Westons’ and I don’t really feel like that either, although for once Dad really wants to go.’ I had a sneaking suspicion that he wanted to interrogate Kate about her pregnancy.

  Harriet’s eyes narrowed. ‘Who else’ll be there?’

  ‘Mary Bates and Jane. David and Sandy Perry. Izzy and John, if Izzy can get Sarah Perry to babysit. Mark. And Flynn’s driving down from – ’