The Secret Lives of Emma: Unmasked

by Walker, Natasha

  ‘Like a grub.’

  ‘Bullshit. How does it make you feel to have two beautiful women loving you? I think you feel pretty good. I think you wonder why you waited so long to do it. I think you feel as though you’re finally alive. I think you feel like the most potent man on the planet. And I think you feel sexier than you’ve ever felt. That’s how you should be feeling. If you’re not, you’re not doing it right, or for the right reasons.’

  He wasn’t doing it right.

  EIGHTEEN

  The lights of Otranto were up ahead and led Emma home. She was moving as fast as she could without breaking into a run. She was sure there was a quicker route into the town from the marina but she wasn’t going to try to find it in the dark. She kept to the side of the street with the streetlamps and took the long way round.

  ‘Emma!’

  She pretended she hadn’t heard.

  ‘Emma! Stop a second. You’re going in the wrong direction. The party is this way.’

  She stopped. It wasn’t David. She had thought it was David’s voice.

  A man was walking towards her. He was accompanied by two beautiful young women, all carrying small boxes.

  ‘Sebastian?’ she shouted when she recognised who it was.

  He came right up to her, put the box down, and then kissed her on the cheek. The two women hung back, keeping close to a lamppost. They too put down their loads and Emma saw the boxes contained wine and champagne.

  ‘Some of the most expensive wine I’ve ever bought. It’s just local Italian wine, too. But nothing’s open so we got it from a restaurant. They saw me coming. What could I do? What’s a party without drink?’

  Emma smiled. She didn’t know what to make of Sebastian’s sudden appearance.

  ‘It’s great to see you. I hoped I would. David said you were here. That’s why he’s so eager for us to move on.’

  ‘You’re going?’

  ‘Tomorrow. We’ll sail down the coast and around the heel. He doesn’t want to look like he’s intruding. He says he’s kept a low profile, keeping to the private beaches in the north, seldom coming to town at all.’

  ‘What? I don’t understand.’

  ‘I’m late. I was meant to be here a month ago. I suggested we meet up here but I sailed from Sydney and got into difficulties. He flew to Italy and hired that titanic. Did you see it? It’s the biggest fucking yacht I’ve ever seen!’

  ‘You suggested you meet here?’

  ‘Yeah, I used to come here with my wife. I had no idea you were in Otranto. How could I?’

  ‘So David didn’t know I was here?’

  ‘No, and he was very uneasy when he discovered you were.’

  ‘No way. I can’t believe that.’

  ‘That’s why he was uneasy. He knew you’d think he’d come looking for you.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘It really is my fault. I have been holidaying here for years. I know the coast like the back of my hand. And no one comes to Otranto. It’s perfect. The water – isn’t it gorgeous?’

  The women called to Sebastian. They were getting bored.

  ‘You’d better go.’

  ‘Yeah, I should, they’ll be sobering up,’ he said. As he picked up his box again the bottles clinked. He gave her a kiss.

  He took a few steps when Emma said after him, ‘Tell him he doesn’t have to leave on my account. Otranto is big enough for the both of us.’

  ‘I’ll tell him.’

  ‘And anyway, I was thinking of taking the train north soon. Paris, maybe.’

  ‘You don’t mind if we stay?’

  ‘God, no. Why should I?’

  ‘Ha, that’s funny. He said he’s been hiding out in Albania for the last week, he was afraid you had seen him. He’s only returned now because I wanted to come to Otranto to visit some old friends of mine.’

  He smiled and turned. Then stopped and spun back around.

  ‘Why don’t you come down and join the party?’

  ‘No, I couldn’t. Really.’

  ‘Goodnight, then.’

  Emma walked away steadily and was soon back in the narrow streets of Otranto. She found it hard to get her thoughts together. She knew David was in Otranto for her. It was as plain as day. And yet Sebastian was so matter of fact about it. To him it was just one of those unlucky coincidences. These things happened. He was so definite. He had visited Otranto with his wife. Why would he make it up?

  Then she was on the parapet again. Her feet had taken her there. The restaurants were closed now, there was no one around. She stared down at the marina. Sebastian and his friends had already reached the boats, the party was continuing. Waves of sound floated across with each gust of the sea breeze. But what if David hadn’t come for her? What if it was just some strange accident? No, it couldn’t be. He had given the American her name in the bar. He had paid Marco to draw him. He had fucked Elena. He was hunting her down. He was circling her. This wasn’t a coincidence.

  He saw her in the bar. It was just a bar. No, it wasn’t just a bar; it was the most popular local spot. Everyone eventually went there. That might have been an accident. Might have been. He might have come to the bar because he was bored. The rest followed.

  She rested her forehead against the stone wall, feeling sick, her stomach churning.

  Damn Sebastian! How could it be? It just couldn’t be. It couldn’t be an accident. It couldn’t be.

  Marco didn’t see her at first. The bar was full. A popular local band was playing and people were squeezed against each other, dancing where they stood. The air-conditioning was not equal to the heat coming off the crowds. Sweat was on every brow, tops were being ripped off. Most of the men were shirtless and many of the women were in bikini tops. Marco and his colleagues were being hounded by thirsty patrons and from time to time Marco would squirt water out over the heads of the steaming dancers. The roars of pleasure were exhilarating.

  Marco knew he’d be trapped behind the bar until dawn. There was no way they would be able to clear the club at closing. He was exhausted. He’d been up since first light painting. He had returned to his obsessive ways since Emma had left him. All he was thinking about was his work. Which meant all he was t hinking about was his subject. Which meant all he was thinking about was Emma.

  He had let her go. He had not argued. He had not sought her out. He knew where she was staying. He knew who she was dining with. Friends kept telling him they had seen her. She was a local celebrity now. They gossiped about her. They told him who she had taken up to her room. They told him to wound him, but he knew Emma better than they did. He wouldn’t stand in her way. Though his nails were bitten to the quick.

  Marco paused while pouring a beer. He held the glass and scanned the crowd. Emma was in the club, he was suddenly sure of it. He smiled and continued pouring. He wasn’t normally psychic, he knew he’d probably caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. But she was there and he was disproportionately happy.

  NINETEEN

  The sunshine would never end, the dazzling sea was flat in the calm, barely a breeze was felt. The temperature would rise above 30 degrees before noon. The coastline was cluttered with the bronzed flesh of the sun-worshipping holiday-makers and, off the coast, pleasure vessels dropped anchor at popular swimming spots or motored by in search of a secluded bay. There were no secluded bays in August.

  From the sea David thought the sunbathers looked like seals he had seen in a documentary. They had the same tenacity. Truly there was no unused part of the coast. If a towel could be thrown down, no matter how precarious or uncomfortable the spot, a body would be found lying there.

  David climbed down into his motorised dinghy. He looked up at the crewman who remained on deck and told him to expect him back for lunch. He may have guests, he added. ‘Prepare for four or five, just in case.’

  Then he sat down and the man with his hand on the outboard twisted the throttle. They were some distance from the yacht before he noticed Elena. She was seated
on the slender strip of coast he had hired for the summer. Little Marco was naked and sitting in front of her. She was looking right at him but he didn’t wave, and nor did she. He was expected.

  Though David looked calm he had no idea what the future would bring. He couldn’t picture tomorrow. Even if things went his way, tomorrow was an unknown. It frightened him. He was a man who planned, he was a man who prepared, he was a man who generally got what he wanted.

  Everything had changed, and was changing still. He was learning more about himself and about the world with each passing day now. He’d had to start from scratch. When Emma had left him he hadn’t been equipped to understand what she meant when she said You’re not ready to be my partner.

  His short interview with Paul changed that.

  About a month after Emma walked out, David had heard from a friend that Paul was back in Sydney. David had wasted no time. He’d driven to the offices of the production company Paul usually worked for and, walking straight past the receptionist, saw that his hunch had been right. Paul was sitting on the edge of the desk of an attentive brunette and spotted David as soon as he entered the open plan office. He stood up.

  David had no idea what he was going to say, but when he saw a flicker of fear in Paul’s eyes he knew all of his own fears were well founded.

  There were about twenty-five people in the large space and all eyes had been drawn to the huge man in a beautifully tailored suit who had walked with great purpose into their midst.

  David stopped where he was, and looking directly at Paul said, in a surprisingly calm voice, ‘You’re a fucking cunt.’

  There was a brief moment of stunned silence before Paul, smiling broadly, said, ‘I’d be a fool to try and deny that. Everyone here knows me too well.’

  If he’d hoped for laughter he was to be disappointed. His colleagues were too afraid for him. Even in his suit, David had never looked more menacing in his life. He dwarfed the receptionist who had followed him in and who still stood behind him with her arms out as though she were attempting to usher him out. When he stepped towards Paul the room sucked in a breath in unison.

  ‘You fucked my wife,’ said David, the words coming from his mouth before he realised how pathetic they sounded.

  ‘I’ve fucked a lot of men’s wives, David.’ Pause. ‘But none was in more need than yours.’

  There was a space of about three seconds during which nobody breathed.

  Then David rushed forward and someone let out a little scream. Paul escaped backwards through the desks, knocking a pile of books onto the floor as he went, till he hit the rear wall of the office. He skirted the desks and kept to the wall.

  ‘Now, steady on, big guy, this isn’t high school. You can’t solve anything with your fists. You’re a grown-up now,’ said Paul, out of breath in the excitement. He had managed to put two desks, a planter pot and a water cooler between them.

  David was staring at him with murderous eyes.

  ‘Stop it!’ someone shouted.

  David turned to see who had spoken and Paul darted away towards the front of the office.

  ‘You can’t catch me. You never could,’ he said, laughing derisively.

  There was more than ten metres between them now, and Paul was in a perfect position to make his escape.

  But then the same commanding voice spoke again. She stood at the door of the corner office. The woman was in her forties, wore a dark blue skirtsuit and her dark hair was cut short. David couldn’t see what the sign on the door said, she was in the way, but he assumed she was someone senior.

  ‘For Christ sake, grow up! I don’t approve of what Paul’s done, but chasing him around the office? We’re all trying to work here!’ David stared at the woman, he was breathing heavily. ‘Besides, this doesn’t really have anything to do with him. Not really.’

  The woman was only a few feet from him. She stood with her legs firmly placed about a foot apart, arms crossed. She gestured ‘come here’ with her index finger. When he drew closer, she gestured that he come closer still, and then she whispered in his ear, ‘This problem needs to be resolved between you and your wife. She has free will, you know. She did sleep with him. She made a choice. Not a great one, admittedly, but we all make mistakes.’

  ‘What’s your name?’ he asked in a whisper.

  ‘Candice.’

  ‘Candice, is there a room I can use to have a quick chat with Paul? I promise I won’t touch him.’

  ‘If you let me sit in on the meeting there is. I won’t allow a fight in my office.’

  He paused and let out an audible sigh.

  ‘I could just call the cops,’ she added.

  ‘A silent observer?’

  ‘Yes.’

  A few minutes later David was standing in a room at one end of a boardroom table with his back to a window. Candice had placed herself in a chair near the only door and Paul sat on the other end of the long table. The room looked more like a storage room than a meeting room. In one corner there was a large amount of filming equipment, boxes and some full black plastic garbage bags.

  ‘Well?’ asked Paul, after David had remained steadfastly silent. His gentle query was met with more silence.

  ‘Look, David, if the truth be known, for some strange reason Emma loves you. You’re the first person I have ever known her to love.’

  David turned to look out the window. Paul’s words were too much for him.

  ‘She was so in love with you she was willing to drown her own desires to make sure your unimaginative desires were met. She married you because it meant something to you, she was going to have your baby, too, even though it wasn’t something she would have chosen to do. That’s what love can do. She thought that’s what you wanted. She thought that would satisfy you. But then you went and screwed Sally.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You left Sydney with her.’

  ‘I know I did, I was there. But she left me in Rome.’

  ‘She left you?’

  ‘We’d had enough of each other. We’re like that.’

  ‘You ruined my marriage for a few weeks with her?’

  ‘I didn’t ruin your marriage. You did. She came to me and said she had to get away, so we did.’

  ‘You told her Sally was my mistress.’

  ‘Yep. You don’t deserve Emma. You have no idea who she is or what she is capable of. You would cage the last songbird.’

  David sat down.

  ‘You should stay away from her. Let her be. Let her forget you. She isn’t the woman you think she is, and she’s not one you’ll ever understand or accept.’

  ‘I love her.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I have fucked her in your house while you were home. She took great delight in the deceit.’

  David’s face lost all its colour.

  ‘That’s the woman you married. Do you still want her? Do you still love her?’

  David nodded.

  ‘On the night before your wedding I snuck into her mother’s house where she was staying and fucked her. I fucked her in the arse so that on her wedding day her arsehole would be ringing as she said her vows.’

  David stood up. ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

  ‘I stood beside you as your best man.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake! You introduced us!’

  ‘Do you still love her? Do you still want to know where she is?’

  David was shaking.

  ‘David, Emma is the most extraordinary woman I have ever known. Everything she has done can be described as I’ve described it – baldly – as seen from the outside. I can make her out to be a monster, but she isn’t one.’

  Silence.

  ‘You will never be able to see her as I see her. You will never be able to get outside the life you believe to be the only life there is. Your hopes, your dreams, your ambitions are acceptable but they are largely alien to her. She has never lived as others live �
�� until meeting you.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘You’re the only one she has deceived. She loves you but she can’t be honest with you. You’re normal. You’re her first great mistake.’

  ‘She said I am not ready to be her partner. Does that mean you are?’

  ‘She doesn’t love me, she never has. We are friends and friends are all we’ll ever be. And she’s right, you know, you’re not ready to be her partner. She was right to leave.’

  David walked to the door and put his hand on the door handle. ‘So you don’t know where she is?’

  ‘Are you going to look for her?’ Paul asked, swinging the chair around.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, and opened the door.

  ‘Leave … her … the fuck … alone.’

  ‘I love her. I can’t live without her. I will do anything to get her back,’ David said and left the room.

  ‘Leave her the fuck alone!’ Paul shouted after him.

  There was no reply. Paul spun around on the swivel chair a couple of times and then put his feet down and stopped, facing the door.

  Candice stared at him. ‘You really are a fucking cunt, you know that, right?’

  Paul nodded.

  Elena held the dinghy steady while David climbed onto the rocks. The crewman then backed the small boat out and returned to the yacht.

  She kissed him on both cheeks.

  ‘Are they here?’ he asked her.

  ‘Si,’ she said. ‘He is painting. She is with him.’ Elena picked up little Marco. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked. ‘You want to do this?’

  ‘I have to know.’

  ‘Poverino.’ Elena took his hand in hers and squeezed it.

  TWENTY

  At that very moment Emma was stretched out naked on Marco’s divan. They had been awake since dawn having spent the night in the studio. Three days had passed since seeing David at the marina. She had gone to the bar that night, waited for Marco till closing and then climbed on the back of his scooter and put her arms around his waist. Now she was in his studio once more, on his island. She had succumbed. She would never escape again.