After their walk, Emma took Isla to the little bakery in the village’s courtyard. The courtyard was made up of several units including a Forest Foods organic store, a beauty salon, the Neck of the Woods pub and the Into the Woods bakery as well as a doctors’ surgery, library and chemist, all forming a square around a large tree in the middle. Work was taking place in one of the empty units where a charity shop had once been, with rumours of a new restaurant appearing. That would be good; they usually had to travel out of Forest Grove if they wanted more than pub grub or pizza.
‘How’s school, darling?’ Emma asked Isla as they sat at a small table looking out at the courtyard. ‘Is it fun?’
Isla shrugged. ‘Yeah, it’s okay.’
‘You’re still liking it though, right?’ Emma had been worried Isla would struggle joining a brand-new school, but she seemed to have fitted right in.
‘It’s just school, Mum. It’s fine. Oh!’ Isla added, her face lighting up. ‘Have we got tickets for the disco yet?’
The school held a family disco each term to raise funds. Emma had been pleased they had an excuse not to go to the first one, as they were visiting her mum in Dartmouth. She just didn’t fancy the idea of sitting drinking watered-down fruit juice and not really having anyone to talk to as Dele chatted to the multitude of friends he’d made since moving to the village.
‘I don’t know, sweetie,’ she said to Isla now.
‘Pleeeeeeeeeease!’ Isla begged, putting her palms together.
Emma sighed. ‘I’ll see if there are any tickets left.’
‘Cool. Can I play on your phone?’
‘No, Isla. Let’s talk like humans are supposed to.’
Isla gave her a pointed look. ‘Talking is boring.’
‘You seem to do plenty of it in the playground with your friends.’
‘Yeah, but they’re not old, like you.’
‘Charming!’
Isla laughed. ‘Oh mother, you know I love you. I just know what you’re going to say. “How’s school, dahhhhhling?” “Did you do any tests this week, sweeeeetie?”’
Emma couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I do not sound like that.’
‘You so do.’ Isla put her hand out. ‘Phone, pleaaaaaase?’
Emma sighed, digging her phone out of her bag. ‘Okay, but as long as you let me play too.’
‘Fine. But please remember I lose points if the outfits you choose are lame, so take my advice.’
‘I will, style goddess.’ She shuffled her chair over and leaned in close to Isla as she opened up the online stylist game she liked to play. After a while, Emma decided to leave her to it and leaned back in her chair, sipping her chai latte as she peered outside.
This is nice, she thought. She didn’t come out here enough, her weekends usually taken up with sorting stuff in the house or cinema trips.
As she thought that, the door to the bakery swung open and Kitty Fletcher walked in with Lawrence Belafonte’s PA Myra. Kitty was wearing a trademark scarf over her short white hair, shiny red wellies and a yellow raincoat. She must have just come from her parenting workshop. Though they were held in the forest centre a few minutes’ walk away, Kitty liked to get everyone out in nature when it was dry. Emma would often see them if she went for a walk at the weekend, traipsing through the forest as Kitty spouted off about something. In fact, she’d seen them during their walk, and among them was Myra, who was enthusiastically striding alongside Kitty and chatting away to her as her son looked thoroughly bored.
Emma watched as Kitty walked to the counter now with Myra.
‘That’s a record for me,’ Emma heard her say. ‘Over fifty parents attended! Best session yet.’
‘Well done, Kitty,’ Myra said. ‘It’s really quite something to see what you have achieved here. I’ll be sure to report back very favourably to that MP I know from my time working in London, he takes child development very seriously. He really does have the ear of the prime minister. Who knows, maybe we’ll one day see a Kitty Fletcher School? You must be so proud.’
Emma arched an eyebrow. It was amazing how someone as sour as Myra could be so gushing when the time was right.
Kitty puffed her chest out, clearly pleased with what Myra was saying. ‘Yes, it’s lovely to see my teachings being put into place,’ she said as she looked out at a group of teenagers strolling by in the forest. ‘Teenagers taking walks in the forest instead of sitting indoors on their phones taking selfies.’
Myra nodded in agreement. ‘Good, it gives them a bit of grit. All this staying indoors nowadays makes them soft.’
Emma smiled into her drink. Those very same teenagers had been huddled around a tree earlier, smoking a spliff while one of the girls took a selfie of her exposed breasts. Emma had had to cover Isla’s eyes and rush her away as she tried to look through the gap in her mother’s fingers.
‘If parents knew just what mobile phone use can do to a child’s brain,’ Kitty said, shaking her head in dismay as she pointed out a loaf of bread to the baker. ‘You might as well shoot heroin in their arm.’
‘Quite,’ Myra said.
Emma’s face flushed as she looked at Isla, who was completely engrossed in her game. She thought about quietly telling her to hand over the phone, but then she realised she had no reason to do that. They’d just spent nearly two hours outside, and would be going back that afternoon to do some crafty stuff! Ten minutes playing a game on Emma’s phone wasn’t going to rot Isla’s brain, for God’s sake.
No, she refused to let Kitty Fletcher’s presence guilt her into depriving Isla of a few minutes of digital fun.
Kitty paid for her bread, then started to leave. But Emma saw Myra jog her in the arm, nodding towards Isla. Kitty paused, then raised an eyebrow before reaching into her bag and walking over to their table.
Emma felt like shrinking into her coat. Instead, she gave Kitty a shaky smile.
‘Hello, I believe you’re new here,’ Kitty said to her.
‘Actually, I’ve been here seven months.’
‘New in Forest Grove terms!’ Kitty said. She handed a leaflet over, the same one Emma had received about Kitty’s workshop the first day she’d moved in. ‘All parents are welcome,’ Kitty said, her eyes gliding over to Isla, who was still wrapped up in her game. ‘The number of parents who have told me what wonders it’s done for their children, not least their academic life.’
‘Oh yes, thanks, we’ve got one of these already,’ Emma said, doing her best to keep calm under the patronising gaze of Kitty and her new best friend, Myra.
‘We do a marvellous digital detox for children,’ Kitty continued, looking pointedly at the phone in Isla’s hand. ‘Screen addiction has been proven to create lasting damage, you know.’
Emma’s mouth dropped open. She quickly recovered herself. ‘Well, y-y-yes,’ she stammered. ‘I can imagine if a child is stuck in front of a screen most of the time, it wouldn’t be good for them. Luckily, we don’t have that problem with Isla.’
Isla looked up at the mention of her name. ‘Huh?’
‘Looks like she has a problem to me,’ Emma heard Myra whisper to Kitty.
‘What did you say?’ Emma asked, pulse pounding in her ears. Myra could say what she wanted about her, but she wouldn’t get away with being rude about her daughter!
‘Oh, she’s just saying, when you have such beautiful scenery around you,’ Kitty said, gesturing to the forest outside, ‘why would one need to stare at a phone?’
‘We’ve just spent the morning walking through the forest!’ Emma said. ‘Jesus, you need to dial it down – it’s all about a happy medium, you know? We parents feel guilt-tripped enough as it is.’
Isla looked at her mother in surprise, then her mouth twisted into a smile. ‘Go, Mum!’
‘Goodness me!’ Kitty said. She turned to Myra. ‘I can assure you, this isn’t how the wonderful mums here usually act.’ Then the two women stalked out.
Emma felt the tears start to come. She quickly took in a deep bre
ath.
Don’t cry here, not here.
Isla put her hand on Emma’s. ‘Are you okay, Mum? What a cow.’
‘Wasn’t she just?’ a voice said from above them. They looked up to see Tatjana standing over the table with a loaf of bread in her hands. ‘I can’t believe what Kitty just said to you! Oh Emma, is everything okay? You look like you’re going to cry.’
Heat rose in Emma’s cheeks.
‘I’m fine,’ Emma said, quickly blinking the tears away.
Tatjana smiled sadly as she crouched down, her elbows on the table. ‘You don’t have to pretend,’ she whispered as Isla watched them. ‘Kitty was out of order. It’s the worst, when someone makes a mother feel guilty, am I right?’
Emma nodded, aware of people’s eyes on them. ‘It is.’
Tatjana leaned back and gestured to her top, which was stained with what looked like yoghurt. ‘Do you know, I’ve had to change twice today – in the end I just gave up! It’s so hard keeping on top of things, don’t you think? I struggle and I’m not even holding down a job like you are.’ She looked out of the cafe window towards Kitty, who was striding away towards the forest. ‘Ignore that old busybody,’ she said. ‘You’re doing great. I mean, seriously, everyone here likes to pretend they’re so perfect, don’t they?’
Emma smiled in surprise. Maybe she’d got Tatjana all wrong? ‘Tell me about it,’ she whispered back. ‘I bet they’re all seething messes under the surface.’
Tatjana leaned towards her, brown eyes sparkling mischievously. ‘Oh, I realllllllly hope so.’
They both laughed.
‘We should do coffee sometime,’ Tatjana said. ‘In fact, what about lunch on Monday? You can come watch the house be delivered. Honestly, I am desperate for someone like you to talk to, I’m going mad stuck in Stepford Grove.’
Emma frowned. Wasn’t that moment something they’d want to share as a family, not with some random like her hanging around?
‘It’s difficult to get out,’ Emma said. ‘I’m super busy at work.’
‘Consider it work. Lawrence really needs to sort his social media accounts out,’ Tatjana said, gesturing to her husband who was standing outside with their sons. ‘Maybe you two could have a quick chat about doing some work for him?’
‘Go, Mum!’ Isla said. ‘It’ll be so cool!’
Emma peered towards the forest and the top of the bright-red crane. It would be interesting to see the house all come together. More importantly, it would be good to win some new business, too. What she hadn’t realised when she took on the job at the consultancy was that they were in desperate need of new business after one of their major clients dropped them. The last thing Emma needed was the company collapsing.
And yes, she could do with an ally in Stepford Grove too, as Tatjana had referred to it.
She examined Tatjana’s face. Her sister always said that there was more to people than met the eye. Maybe she’d been too quick to judge Tatjana? Dele was right, the fact that she looked so much like Jade had clouded Emma’s assessment of her.
‘Sure,’ Emma said, shrugging. ‘I usually have lunch at one, so shall we say I’ll be at yours by quarter past?’
‘Perfect,’ Tatjana said. ‘I’ll make us some nibbles. Can’t wait! Enjoy the rest of your weekend, especially you little fashionista,’ she added, looking at Isla. ‘Loving the necklace.’
Isla put her fingers to the heart choker she was wearing and smiled.
Tatjana waved at Emma and headed outside.
‘You’ve made a friend, Mum,’ Isla said. ‘A friend who happens to be the coolest person in the village.’
Emma laughed. Yes, she had just made a friend.
Chapter Eleven
Saturday 19th September
11.40 a.m.
I need to talk to you about grit, Isla. By now, you may have heard of the term ‘snowflake’ to describe someone who is over-emotional and easily offended. You will know it intimately yourself, having lived with two snowflakes for the past nine years. What happened in the bakery just now is an example of this. Though I rather enjoyed your fake mother nearly bursting into tears getting told off by Kitty Fletcher, it also made my heart sink.
It just proved to me that Emma Okoro has absolutely no grit about her. Now, ‘grit’ might sound like a negative term to you, Isla. It might make you think of those little bits of stone that dig into the soft palms of your hands or the thin skin of your knees when you fall over. But think of it like this. Those tiny little bits of stone must be pretty strong to cause such damage, right? Especially when they’re all put together.
You need to think of yourself as being made up of all those stones; it’s just a case of getting them all together in the right place to get some grit about you. You need to be strong. You need to be focused. And yes, sometimes you need to bruise a few knees, even cut them, to get what you want.
I can easily handle a snowflake like Kitty Fletcher. But your pretend mother fell apart in her presence. Not just today’s incident, but yesterday too, when she clocked that she’d ‘forgotten’ dress-down day. Honestly! Talk about overreaction. But then that’s what I hoped for when I had a quick rifle through your bag before the Design Divas session. Something to throw her off guard, make her doubt herself.
To be honest, I wasn’t hugely confident that it would be enough just to dispose of the letter. Parents talk about such things with each other. But then I underestimated just how unpopular Emma is.
Now, of course, she thinks she’s found a friend. How wrong she is . . .
Chapter Twelve
Monday 21st September
1.15 p.m.
Emma drove down the main road that linked Ashbridge with Forest Grove until she got to a small turning into the forest, taking the dirt track that led to the huge clearing where the Belafontes’ home was to be built. As she approached, she saw a massive area had been filled with concrete to create the house’s foundations. Overlooking it all was the famous red crane and behind the foundations, among some trees, was a long, rather luxurious-looking static home.
It was a beautiful day, the sky bright blue. How lovely it would be to live right in the middle of the forest, Emma thought as she got out of her car. She often eyed the houses that had gardens backing on to the forest with envy. But they were over £100k more expensive.
‘The price people pay for a view,’ Dele had said as they compared the two properties online.
As Emma took in the size of the concrete slab before her, she wondered what price the Belafontes were paying for all this.
Emma checked her reflection in the car window and smoothed down her red hair, quickly reapplying her nude lipstick. Then she headed towards the static home, passing three cars – the Jaguar she’d seen, a large Range Rover and a small red Mini Convertible – on the way. Before she could reach the door of the static home, it swung open, Lawrence appearing in the doorway. He was wearing gold-rimmed glasses, his strawberry-blond hair slightly tousled.
‘Emma!’ he said. ‘Tatjana’s just waking Phoenix from his nap. Come in, let me get you a drink. The lorry is just thirty minutes away.’
‘Thanks.’ She stepped in, looking around her. The static home was massive. One end was dominated by a modern-looking kitchen, the other by a dividing wall from behind which Emma could hear Tatjana’s voice as her youngest son Phoenix giggled. In the middle was the living space with one large grey sofa across from two mustard armchairs with a low clear coffee table between them, a variety of different foods laid on its surface. On the wall was a blue-and-white painting of a proud-looking African woman.
‘What do you fancy drinking? We have everything,’ Lawrence said, gesturing towards the large fridge.
‘Orange juice would be great. You must be excited about the house being delivered. I heard you’re an architect – did you design it?’
‘I was involved in the design, yes. Come, sit,’ he said. He handed her the orange juice and then gestured to the sofa. He took one of the armchairs
across from her and crossed his legs. ‘Let’s have a quick chat before Tatjana comes in – she mentioned you work in social media?’
Emma nodded. ‘I do. I actually took the liberty of doing some research into Belafonte Designs. You have a Twitter account?’
He grimaced. ‘Yes, a Twitter account that hasn’t been updated for a year. My old PA set it up, but he’s left and Myra doesn’t have that kind of experience.’
Emma thought of the way Myra had just watched with a smug grin on her face as Kitty talked down to Emma on Saturday. She could get revenge right now, say it was unusual for a PA not to have social media experience nowadays.
But instead, she smiled. ‘Don’t worry, it happens a lot. I actually think it’s Instagram where you need to be. Twitter is fine for connecting with influencers, those high-end clients you might want to engage with. But to really showcase your beautiful work, you should definitely be on Instagram.’
Lawrence leaned forward, regarding her with his sparkling green eyes. ‘So is that something you can do, set us up on there?’
‘Absolutely,’ Emma said enthusiastically. ‘We can set up a content schedule, make sure your channel is fresh with regular content, drive up those followers with some tricks of the trade we’ve learnt. Come up with campaign ideas. There’s a whole roster of services we can offer.’
‘Would you recommend we wind down our Twitter then?’
She shook her head. ‘Nope, you should keep it, but change the focus to be more about engaging with clients rather than showcasing your work. Look, why don’t I put a proposal together for you? Then maybe we can have a chat on the phone?’
‘That sounds excellent.’
‘A proposal featuring all the social media recommendations I’ve made over the years,’ a voice said. They both looked up to see Tatjana walking into the living room, her youngest son in her arms. She was barefoot and was wearing a long olive maxi dress that swished around her smooth dark ankles.
‘Yes, my wife has been on at me for a while to sort my social media out.’ Lawrence got up and took his son from Tatjana. ‘Right, I’ll leave you two to it. Phoenix and I need to do a site inspection.’ The little boy giggled as Lawrence walked out with him.
Circle of Doubt Page 7
