The Importance of Being Emma

by Juliet Archer

  ‘Not to worry, let’s have lunch tomorrow instead.’

  ‘That would be great, I’ll give you a ring at work in the morning.’

  As I put the phone down, I realised how much I’d been looking forward to seeing him. Now I’d have to wait another twenty-four dreary hours.

  It must be love, mustn’t it?

  ~~MARK~~

  On Monday, I drew up outside the Bateses’ house at half past eight on the dot. Instantly, Jane appeared at the front door, walked sedately down the path to the car, opened the nearside rear door and settled herself in the back.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said quietly, ‘and thank you for going to all this trouble.’

  I was just reassuring her that it was no trouble at all, when a flustered Mary arrived, tried to get in at Jane’s side, realised her mistake with a shrill squeal and scuttled round to the front passenger seat.

  ‘Oh, Mark,’ she gasped as she scrambled inside, ‘I thought you’d have put Jane in the front, you don’t want an old chatterbox like me distracting you – ’

  ‘Just shut the door, please, before that van takes it clean off,’ I said, more brusquely than I intended.

  She gave another squeal and yanked the door shut. Then, ‘Oh dear, I seem to have got my coat caught in the … Just a minute and I’ll … There, all set and ready to go. We’re so grateful, Mark, really we are, I was saying to Mother only this morning … ’

  I tried to ignore her and concentrate on negotiating the traffic, but it was more of a challenge than I’d expected. Although we reached Highbury Foods in ten minutes, it felt like thirty, with Jane never saying a word and Mary hardly pausing for breath. Later, as I drew into my parking space at Donwell Organics, I calculated that three weeks – Dave Ford’s estimate for repairing Mary’s car – would mean twenty-nine more journeys like this morning’s.

  In the office, things went from bad to worse. I found that one of my best employees in India had resigned and Cherry was off sick. Just as I was switching my phone through to Sue, the Finance Director’s PA, it rang with an external call.

  I answered it, in the absurd hope that it might be Emma. ‘Knightley.’

  ‘Is that Marrrk Knightley?’ A woman’s voice, but definitely not Emma’s.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Who is this?’

  ‘Augusta Hawkins, strategic financial consultant at The Maple Grrrove Consultancy, for businesses that can afforrrd the best. Now, Marrrk, I’ve been reading up on the orrrganic food industry and I just know I can save your company lots of money. I need to come and tell you all about it, how about tomorrow at two thirrrty?’

  ‘I’ve never heard of you or your company, Augusta, so – ’

  ‘Call me Gusty,’ she purred.

  Gusty? Ah yes … ‘Are you Philip Elton’s, er, friend?’

  ‘I am, and he’s putting in a good word for me at Highburrry Foods even as we speak, so you’d better get in quick, Marrrk, because my services will be in grrreat demand.’ Her tone hardened. ‘Tomorrow at two thirrrty, have you put it in your diary yet?’

  ‘Hold on, I’m not putting anything in my diary,’ I said, testily. ‘It’s very kind of you to offer to help out, Gusty, but I’m going to have to say no. Now I’m sure you’ve got lots of other phone calls to make, so I’ll let you get on.’

  ‘You have such a charrrming way of saying no that I’m even more determined to make you say yes.’ She gave a husky laugh. ‘But I can hold off until we get to know each other. Mind, I’ve heard a lot about you already from our mutual cleaning lady, Mrs Burrrn. And, once you’ve got to know me – we’ll be moving in the same cirrrcles, of course, professionally and socially – you’ll be begging to join my elite clientele, as we say at Maple Grrrove.’

  I did my best to remain civil. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we? And now I’m due at a meeting. Goodbye.’ I slammed the receiver down and switched my phone through to Sue without further delay. Gusty sounded like the sort of person I’d go to great lengths to avoid; I was sure she and Elton were made for each other.

  There was no meeting to go to, but my flimsy excuse to get rid of Gusty prompted thoughts of another meeting – the one that I’d expected to have on Saturday morning and that now looked less and less likely to happen. On impulse, I decided to give it one last shot and dialled Emma’s mobile. No answer, so I tried her direct line at Highbury Foods.

  ‘Emma Woodhouse’s phone, can-ay-yelp-yoo-oo.’

  ‘Hello, Harriet, it’s Mark Knightley.’

  She gave a nervous giggle. ‘Hiya, Mark.’

  ‘Listen, I need to fix up my next mentoring meeting with Emma. I know it’s short notice but I wondered if she was free for lunch today?’ A full and frank discussion, over a slap-up meal – somewhere classy, where she would think twice about storming off – and who knew what might happen?

  ‘Seems OK, nothing in the diary – oh, hang on, she’s looking cross and she’s sort of waving at me.’

  Trust Harriet to let that one out of the bag; I heard furtive whispers and steeled myself for rejection.

  Harriet went on, as if reading from a script, ‘Sorry, I forgot, Emma already has a lunch appointment today.’

  ‘Oh? I thought you said there was nothing in her diary?’

  This put her immediately on the defensive and ensured I got all the details. ‘Well, you see, she’s expecting it to happen but Flynn hasn’t actually rung yet to confirm it. And she only fixed it up yesterday, but I couldn’t put it in her diary then because the office is closed on Sundays, innit?’

  Churchill – I might have known; my hand tightened round the receiver. ‘Any other lunch times free this week?’

  There was a scuffling sound and I guessed Harriet had put her hand over the mouthpiece; not very effectively as it turned out, because I could still hear her clearly. ‘He says, have you got any other lunch times free this week?’

  Although I didn’t catch Emma’s reply, I had no doubt that Harriet’s next words to me repeated it parrot-fashion. ‘Only Thursday, but she thinks that’s when you usually have your Board meeting, so it looks as though this week’s no good, which is such a shame.’

  ‘Actually,’ I said silkily, ‘I may be able to get away on Thursday for an hour or so. I’ll check the agenda for my Board meeting and let you know.’

  In Cherry’s absence, it took a little while to track down the agenda. As soon as I found it, I rang Harriet back.

  ‘It’s Mark again – ’

  She interrupted me with, ‘That’s so-o-o spooky, I was going to ask Emma if I should ring you. Guess what? Flynn’s just phoned her and cancelled lunch, he’s got to go into London. Some emergency grooming, Emma said.’

  So he’d stood her up, the toe rag! ‘Needs his chest waxing, does he?’

  My sarcasm completely passed her by. ‘Ooh, I don’t know about that, she only mentioned a haircut.’

  ‘All the way to London – for a haircut? … Bloody pansy,’ I added, under my breath.

  ‘Yeah, Emma tried to persuade him to go to Antonio’s in Kingston, so they could still have lunch together. But he said he’d already made an appointment at this posh salon in the West End. Anyway, what time do you want to meet her today?’

  ‘Unfortunately, since we last spoke I’ve been invited out to lunch myself.’ A downright lie, but I needed to get down to some work. And I certainly wasn’t going to play second fiddle to the toe rag. ‘So it’ll have to be Thursday after all, I’ll pick her up at Highbury Foods at one.’

  ‘I’ll tell her.’ She giggled. ‘I’m dying to see this Flynn geezer, he sounds amazing, but Emma says I’m not allowed to fancy him because she saw him first. Life’s a bitch, innit?’

  I could only agree and hang up, before I said something I really regretted.

  ~~EMMA~~

  As I came into Harriet’s room, I couldn’t help overhearing the last part of her phone conversation.

  ‘Why on earth did you tell him about Flynn going to London for a haircut?’ I sa
id sharply, knowing that Mark would waste no time in throwing that back in my face.

  She flushed. ‘I thought maybe you could see him today after all.’

  I let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Please tell me you haven’t arranged anything.’

  ‘I haven’t, he can’t do today any more. But he says he can do Thursday and he’ll pick you up from here at one o’clock.’

  Huh, I’d been so confident that my suggestion to meet on Thursday would be a non-starter. I screwed up the letter I was holding, a glossy invitation to learn ‘intuitive influencing skills’, and hurled it at the waste paper basket. It missed.

  ‘Shit.’ I gave Harriet a tight-lipped smile. ‘Sorry, must have got up on the wrong side of bed.’

  It wasn’t strictly true – I’d been fine until Flynn’s phone call. This was the second time he’d let me down; not a very promising start, given that we’d only known each other for two days. When I told him as much, he just laughed and said there was another reason for going into London, but he wasn’t at liberty to tell me. I immediately thought of his negotiations with the BBC and felt slightly less annoyed.

  The morning dragged by; in desperation, I invited Saint Jane out to lunch. We went to Chez Pierre, where I hoped the haute cuisine and a large glass of Chablis would loosen her tongue on two subjects: everything she knew about Flynn from her time in Weymouth, and what had happened with Mark on Saturday night.

  It didn’t go to plan at all; instead, she subjected me to an hour-long interrogation on my marketing strategy. The only thing I learned about Flynn was that he claimed he’d increased The Mulberry Tree’s revenue by an average of thirty per cent a week. More importantly, however, I got the impression that he didn’t have a girlfriend – which was all I really wanted to know.

  When it came to Saturday night, I tried the subtle approach.

  ‘Mark’s been behaving quite strangely since his split with Tamara,’ I said. ‘Didn’t you notice, when we were at Kate and Tom’s?’

  She paused with a forkful of Caesar salad halfway to her mouth. ‘What, exactly?’

  Trust her to quibble. I racked my brains and came up with, ‘He was staring at people.’

  ‘Can’t say I noticed.’ She began to chew the salad, very slowly.

  ‘What about when he took you home?’ I leaned forward. ‘Did he do anything there that was, um, out of the ordinary?’

  I had an agonising wait while she finished chewing. At last she said, ‘Not that I recall.’

  So they hadn’t even … I mean, surely the woman would recall a kiss that made you feel like … Oh shit, why did I have to remember it all so vividly?

  Maybe she was lying; but somehow I knew she wasn’t. As I’d thought, Kate was totally off track about her and Mark.

  Back at Highbury Foods, we were walking to the lift when Jess, one of the receptionists, rushed over to us, grinning broadly.

  ‘Your car’s just been delivered, Jane, here are the keys.’

  Jane stopped dead. ‘My what?’

  ‘Didn’t you see it in the car park? An old Jaguar, an E-type, the man said. Go outside and look over to the left, it’s a lovely bright red, you can’t miss it.’

  Jane was silent for a moment. Then, ‘There must be some mistake.’

  ‘So you weren’t expecting it this soon?’ Jess said. ‘Chill out, it’s not often things arrive early – ’

  ‘I wasn’t expecting it at all,’ Jane said abruptly. ‘You must have got me mixed up with someone else.’

  ‘No way, I saw your name on the papers – Jane Fairfax, Marketing Department, Highbury Foods. Here, see for yourself.’ She held out a large brown envelope.

  Jane made no move to take it, just looked down at the floor.

  Jess giggled. ‘If you don’t know anything about it, you must have a very nice boyfriend.’

  ‘Thank you, Jess, I’ll have the envelope, and the keys,’ I said. I took them from her, then steered Jane back through the main door and into the car park.

  I spotted the Jag in one of the visitors’ spaces, low and sleek, its immaculate red paintwork gleaming in the pale autumn sun. We came to a halt several yards away and simply gazed at it. I reckoned it must have cost several thousand pounds, maybe even five figures. Some car. Some present. Some boyfriend.

  For the first time in my life, I heard a little moan of pleasure escape from Jane Fairfax’s lips. ‘Isn’t it beautiful? I’ve always wanted one exactly like this.’

  I said nothing; such an unexpected glimpse into her inner world threw me completely. Saint Jane, secretly hankering after a red E-type – whatever next?

  Then she folded her arms and said, ‘Now I’ll have to send it back.’

  I stared at her. ‘Send it back? Why?’

  ‘I can’t possibly accept it.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ I paused. ‘Do you know who sent it?’

  She went crimson. ‘Of course I don’t.’

  Of course she did.

  ‘I’m sure the papers will tell you which garage it came from, but why send it back?’ I said. ‘It’s obviously a very thoughtful gesture by someone, just when you need it, what with Mary’s car being out of action.’

  She gave a deep sigh. ‘I might just sit in it for a few minutes, but that’s all.’ She took the keys from me, opened the door, ran her hand lovingly along the leather upholstery and settled herself behind the wheel. She didn’t put the key in the ignition, however, and I really think she might have sent the car back – if Batty hadn’t arrived on the scene.

  ‘Jane, Jane, I came as soon as I heard,’ she bleated. ‘Oh my goodness, isn’t this a splendid … I feel so much better now that poor Mark doesn’t have to ferry us round any more.’

  Jane immediately got out of the car and locked it. ‘I’m going to phone the garage that brought it here and get them to take it back.’

  ‘Jane dear, think about – ’

  ‘I don’t even know who it’s from.’

  Batty’s face brightened. ‘Oh, now don’t you remember? You mentioned all the inconvenience we were having when you were on the phone yesterday to the Campbells. This is just the sort of thing they’d do, isn’t it? I mean, money’s no object to them. And I don’t like to impose on Mark, when he’s so … ’

  I left them to argue it out and went back to my office. I knew Batty was wrong about the Campbells; they’d merely passed on the message. It was obvious to me who’d given Jane the car: Dan Dixon.

  Jane’s argument with Batty must have lasted a long time; at any rate, she didn’t return to the office until twenty minutes after me.

  ‘Made your decision?’ I said, as soon as she walked through the door.

  ‘Yes, I’ll keep the car for the moment,’ she said primly. ‘By the way, Flynn Churchill’s waiting downstairs. Shall I get Reception to send him up?’

  ‘Please.’ While she was ringing Reception, I touched up my lipstick and wondered if anyone else would hear the thud of my heart.

  A few minutes later, Flynn burst into the room. My gaze went automatically to his hair; it had been well cut and the shorter style really suited him. He came straight over, held out his hand palm upwards and looked soulfully at me.

  ‘Please miss, I’m ready for my punishment.’

  I couldn’t help laughing as I waved his hand away. ‘Your punishment is to have lunch with me tomorrow instead.’ Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jane get up and go through to Harriet’s room. I added, in a low voice, ‘Did you notice a red E-type Jag when you parked your car?’

  He frowned. ‘Don’t think so. Whose is it?’

  ‘It arrived this afternoon for Jane, from a secret admirer.’

  ‘Or a not-so-secret admirer,’ he said, with a knowing wink.

  I giggled. ‘You think it’s from Dan, don’t you? A token of his undying affection.’

  ‘Well, it’s certainly a token of someone’s undying affection, more like passion if it’s bright red. But I daren’t speculate who – ’ He broke off as Jane came back, th
en went on, ‘I have to go. Can’t make tomorrow, Em, I’m going to a wine auction with Dad. Keep Thursday free instead.’

  ‘You’d better not cancel,’ I said, trying to sound severe and failing miserably.

  He grinned and sauntered out of the room; I heard Harriet shriek with laughter at whatever he said to her in passing and smiled to myself. He couldn’t help it, could he? He just had a knack for making people, especially women, feel good. I reluctantly turned my attention to a string of unread email messages.

  Jane gave a discreet cough. ‘Could I have Mark’s number, please? I’d better tell him there’s no need for any more lifts.’

  ‘His direct line’s 432501,’ I said absently, staring at an email from Dad which seemed to make no sense whatsoever.

  Then it hit me. What if the car was from Mark? After this morning’s journey with Batty, no doubt he’d be willing to part with vast sums of money to avoid repeating the experience. But he could simply have paid for a hire car; a flamboyant gesture like this was so out of character.

  Except – what if Kate was right and he was desperate for Jane to take Tamara’s place? A chance remark from her about her dream car, maybe as he drove her home on Saturday night, then a few phone calls this morning – and there it was, all sorted.

  Lucky Jane, being pursued with such determination.

  Of course, it didn’t matter to me at all, because I’d be getting up close and personal with Flynn, very soon. Very soon indeed.

  And I couldn’t wait.

  Chapter Nine

  ~~MARK~~

  By the time Thursday came, I was in a state of indecision about my meeting with Emma. Should I raise the subject of Friday night – or stay absolutely work focused and give advice on managing Elton? Bloody difficult, when I’d overstepped the same line.

  And in that case, should I be mentoring her at all?

  I arrived at Highbury Foods just before one o’clock, parked the car and rang her mobile.