The Importance of Being Emma

by Juliet Archer

  Dad was by the window, examining the pad of his thumb in the watery sunlight. ‘Just cut myself on some paper, would you believe,’ he said, with a mournful sigh. ‘I’m an accident waiting to happen.’

  I went straight to the point. ‘Did we have anything from Mark in this morning’s post?’

  ‘Look at it, do you think it’s infected?’

  I squinted at a tiny cut in his flesh and wrinkled my nose. ‘How could it be? You smell like you’ve bathed in antiseptic. Listen, apparently there’s a party tomorrow night, to welcome George and Saffron home. Does that ring any bells?’

  ‘Party? Oh yes, we had an invitation but I don’t think we should go.’

  I let this pass for the moment. ‘What did it say?’

  ‘Let me see … Seven thirty for drinks and canapés. Those things never agree with me, far too exotic.’

  I tried again. ‘What I mean is, did Mark write anything on it?’

  Dad gave a wry smile. ‘Our names of course, darling.’

  ‘Nothing else?’

  ‘No. Anyway, as I said, I don’t think we should go.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘There’s snow forecast. Isabella’s just phoned, she doesn’t want to go either. She’s really worried about leaving the children, but John doesn’t understand – ’

  For once, my patience was exhausted. ‘We’re going, Dad, or at least I am. I’ll book a taxi if you don’t want me to drive.’

  I left him apprehensively prodding his thumb and walked slowly back to my office. I’d been so blind, so absolutely stupid. Because I’d thought Harriet fancied Flynn, I’d persuaded her that she had as much chance as anyone else to get him. But all along she’d meant Mark; she’d wanted to go to the Westons’ on New Year’s Eve to see him. And her flirting with him over Scrabble had been genuine, not an attempt to make Flynn jealous. Later, when Mark had told me that there was nothing to keep him in England, he must have already been planning to take her back to India; far better to start their relationship away from the prying eyes of Highbury. Tomorrow night, at the party, he’d ask if she wanted to go with him. She’d say yes, yes, yes, and then …

  I’d been so blind.

  I found Harriet still gazing vacantly at the pile of letters, but at least she’d opened them. Not that it mattered. All of a sudden, I didn’t give a shit about Highbury Foods. How was I going to get through the next four days? How was I going to get through tomorrow night, come to that?

  But the show must go on, for as long as possible. ‘Right, Harriet,’ I said firmly, ‘it’s about time we got down to some work.’

  ~~MARK~~

  Rob Martin and I met in The Hare and Hounds at six thirty. He’d seemed surprised but pleased when I rang to suggest a quick drink. He said he’d been about to do the same; there was something he had to tell me before I went back to India. This put me immediately on my guard – I’d only just set things in motion with Harriet and the last thing I needed was Rob throwing a spanner in the works.

  We’d barely sat down with our pints when he said brusquely, ‘I’ve decided to take a break from work and go travelling. God knows what Mum and Dad will say – they’ll have to hold the fort at Abbey Mill – but I can’t stay here any longer.’ He added, with a rueful smile, ‘It’s Harriet. I’m finding it hard to get over her.’

  I let out a long breath; it was just how I’d felt about Emma. And I was dealing with it in the same way – escaping to somewhere far removed from Highbury. But at least I was going to a life I knew, to activity and structure, things I believed Rob badly needed.

  ‘Seems a bit drastic,’ was all I said. ‘When are you planning to leave?’

  ‘Soon as I can stick a pin in a map of the world and book a flight.’ He buried his face in his hands. It was an almost childish gesture, at odds with his large calloused fingers and deep voice. I could hardly make out his next words. ‘I know it’s irresponsible, but I’m desperate.’

  I took a long drink of beer before I spoke. ‘It’s not irresponsible, but it’ll never work.’

  The hands dropped to the table with an ominous thud. ‘And why the hell’s that?’

  I looked him straight in the eye. ‘Rob, I’ve known you for years. I’d say you’re even more of a routine merchant than I am. You’ll go stark staring mad camel-trekking across the Sahara, or whatever you end up doing to fill in the time.’

  He snorted. ‘Routine merchant, am I? I’m too old to join the bloody army, if that’s what you’re suggesting.’

  ‘I’m not. I just don’t think you’ve found the right solution. And that’s probably because you’ve misdiagnosed the problem.’

  ‘Impossible. The problem’s simple enough, Harriet’s the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, but she’s not interested in me.’

  ‘Look, Harriet’s – ’ I stopped before I said too much; I hadn’t even talked to Harriet yet. But his sudden wanderlust was playing right into my hands. I went on, ‘I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you come and stay with me for a while in Mumbai? You could help me with some ideas I’ve got for our operation out there – and then go travelling, if you still want to. You don’t have to decide now. Sleep on it and let me know in the morning.’

  His face brightened. ‘I don’t need to sleep on it. Of course I’ll come, I’ve always fancied India. Hang on, though – what about jabs and stuff?’

  ‘Leave it all to me. I’ll book your ticket and let you know what you need to do. But don’t tell anyone except your parents.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  I gave a faint smile. ‘Trust me, I have my reasons.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  ~~EMMA~~

  The next evening I dressed with care, selecting a deceptively simple black pencil skirt and turquoise shawl-neck top that showed off every curve. As I piled on the foundation to conceal the dark shadows under my eyes, I remembered that day last September when Mark had walked into the boardroom and criticised me for wearing too much make-up. Tears welled up and I had to blot them away before my mascara ran.

  Dad was staying at home and I debated briefly whether to do the same. I knew only too well that this would be one of the last times I’d see Mark before he left; and I had a horrible feeling that it would be the first time I’d see him coming on to Harriet.

  Harriet! I pulled myself together and grabbed my coat. I’d offered to drive her to the party and back, even though it meant a considerable detour. I told her it was because her car was unreliable in cold weather and she might get stranded if the snow came; the real reason was that I wanted to interrogate her about Mark on the way home.

  As she teetered down her front path, I wondered what – in Mark’s eyes, at least – she had that I hadn’t. Rather ironic, given that for the past four months I’d been trying to make her more like me. Not that I’d succeeded; as they say, you can take the girl out of Essex, but you can’t take Essex out of the girl.

  I’d never have guessed she was Mark’s type. He’d described her as ‘pretty and compliant, but that’s about all’; hardly a promising start. At the time, however, he’d been furious with me for advising her to ditch Robert Martin. And fancying someone wasn’t exactly a lifelong commitment; people were always changing their minds – just look at me with Flynn.

  But I remembered retaliating at Mark with something like, ‘If you ever break up with Tamara, you could do a lot worse than Harriet’. Those words had certainly come back to haunt me now.

  Unaware of my gloomy thoughts, Harriet chattered happily all the way to Donwell Abbey. She’d bought a new dress especially for the party, had a bikini wax – which she described to me in excruciating detail – and spent ages doing her face.

  ‘Why splash out all that money on a bikini wax at this time of year?’ I said curtly. ‘You’re not off on a secret holiday in the sun, are you?’

  She giggled. ‘No such luck. Call it a thong wax then, I bought a new thong at Ann Summers, just in case.’

  I was silent as I tu
rned into the Knightleys’ drive. When we were nearing the house, I said, ‘Just in case what?’

  ‘In case I get to shag Mark tonight.’

  I nearly crashed into George’s Mercedes. Somehow I hadn’t envisaged things happening so quickly. On the other hand, Mark and I hadn’t exactly held back at Forbury Manor; at least, I hadn’t. I need you to undo my dress … Kiss me … Don’t stop … Not now …

  Harriet was clutching at her seat belt. ‘Shit, Emma, did you forget where the brakes were?’

  I reversed to a safe distance behind the Mercedes, yanked on the handbrake and said stiffly, ‘I expect you’ll tell me if you don’t need a lift home.’

  ‘Knowing my luck,’ she said, with a snigger, ‘there’ll be loads of snow and everyone’ll be staying at Donwell for the night. What a friggin’ thought!’

  What a frigging thought indeed. Well, I wouldn’t be hanging around while Harriet and Mark … No, I’d get home if it killed me.

  ‘Let’s go inside, it’s freezing.’ I slammed my car door shut and walked briskly to the house while she scrambled out of the passenger side to join me. I stood on the front step and rang the bell, my heart pounding as I waited for Mark to open the door. But it was Gusty who came, swathed in a garish orange sari, waving a clipboard and chanting, like some deranged Tibetan monk, ‘George and Saffron … David and Sandy … ’

  ‘Excuse us.’ I pushed past her into the warmth, dragging Harriet with me.

  Gusty clicked her tongue and studied her clipboard. ‘Emmurrr Woodhouse, yes, you’re on my list.’ The word ‘unfortunately’ hung unspoken in the air. ‘No Henry tonight?’

  ‘’Fraid not,’ I said, smiling at a harassed-looking Mrs Burn as she emerged from the kitchen. ‘Hello, Mrs B, where shall I put our coats?’

  Before Mrs Burn could answer, Gusty said officiously, ‘Don’t distract her, she’ll tidy them away later.’ She gave Harriet a withering glance. ‘But I wouldn’t take yourrrs off yet, I don’t seem to have the name Smith on my list.’

  I slipped off my coat and helped Harriet with hers. ‘Your list’s wrong, I’ve seen Harriet’s invitation. Mark even added a personal message.’

  Harriet blushed and her eyes sparkled. Suddenly, I could see how her simplicity and self-consciousness might appeal to Mark. Then I noticed her new dress: four skimpy panels of black patent leather with sugar-pink voile inserts, leaving very little to the imagination. All I could think was that she must have had to travel a long way from Highbury to find something so bizarre.

  ‘Through here, Harriet.’ I dropped our coats over the banister and hurried her into the drawing room before Gusty could put my thoughts into words.

  The first person I saw was Mark, his elegant stone-coloured trousers and black polo-neck jumper fitting like a second skin. His eyes lingered on Harriet’s dress, but his expression was inscrutable.

  He walked over to us. ‘Glad you could both make it.’

  ‘We nearly didn’t,’ I said drily. ‘Gusty makes a very good bouncer.’

  ‘God, what have I done to deserve that woman?’ He grimaced. ‘She and Philip weren’t even invited, they just turned up saying Mrs Burn asked them along to help. Not that Gusty’s doing much. She seems to be using this as a networking opportunity and handing out her business cards to anything that moves.’

  ‘Not quite anything, she didn’t bother with us. Where’s Philip?’ I scanned the room anxiously. I couldn’t face any embarrassing scenes between him and Harriet tonight. Especially if I had to watch Mark being a knight in shining armour again.

  He gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Would you believe he’s setting up a cookery demonstration in the conservatory? It’s Gusty’s idea of an icebreaker. I’ve told her there’s no need to break any ice, we’ve all known each other for years.’ He grinned at Harriet. ‘Actually, that’s not quite true, you’ve never met my father and stepmother, have you? Let me introduce you.’ He was about to lead her away when he added, as if it was an afterthought, ‘They’re looking forward to seeing you again, Emma.’

  I fixed a bright smile on my face. ‘You two go ahead, I need a quick word with Kate first.’

  Kate and Tom were holding hands by the fireplace, in a world of their own. It was a pity to interrupt them, but I certainly didn’t want to play gooseberry to Mark and Harriet.

  ‘How are you?’ I said, my eyes on Mark as he guided Harriet over to George and Saffron, his long tanned fingers in the small of her back.

  ‘Fantastic.’ Kate sounded excited. ‘Guess what happened today?’

  ‘What?’ My response was automatic, my attention elsewhere. Across the room, Harriet seemed to be making an impression; Mark and George were laughing, while Saffron looked distinctly frosty – although that in itself was nothing unusual.

  Kate was saying, ‘I had an ultrasound scan. Oh Emma, we actually saw our baby!’

  I roused myself with an effort. ‘Oh yes, the scan, wonderful.’ She’d mentioned the appointment to me on New Year’s Eve; normally I’d have rung her this afternoon and asked all about it, but I’d completely forgotten.

  ‘An amazing experience,’ Tom added. ‘Something I never had with Flynn. By the way, he’ll be here soon. He’s coming direct from the station, had to go up to London unexpectedly, a big meeting with the BBC.’

  ‘It was very kind of Mark to invite him,’ Kate put in, ‘especially as he’s never met George and Saffron.’

  Just then Harriet came dashing over to us. ‘This house freaks me out, it’s so posh, innit? Except I’m sure those are Skir wine glasses from Ikea, two for a fiver, although Saffron says hers are from Harrods, she’d never be seen dead in Ikea. Is that her idea of a joke?’

  So that was what Mark and George had found so funny; and of course Saffron had taken offence, big time.

  ‘Saffron’s fine once you get used to her,’ I said. ‘I’d better go and say hello.’

  As I approached, I saw Saffron talking to the Perrys while Mark was deep in conversation with his father. I heard George say, ‘And you think she’ll agree?’

  Mark nodded. ‘I’m sure of it, otherwise I wouldn’t even be asking – ’ He broke off when he noticed me.

  George kissed me warmly on both cheeks. ‘You look ravishing, my dear. Doesn’t she, Mark?’

  Mark didn’t seem to be listening. ‘I’ll go and have that word with Harriet,’ he muttered, and moved away.

  ‘He’s got a lot on his mind at the moment.’ George smiled apologetically, then gave Saffron a discreet nudge. ‘Here’s Emma.’

  ‘Darling!’ Saffron went through her ‘kiss and miss’ routine, ‘Mwah!’ somewhere beside my left cheek and ‘Mwah!’ near my right. ‘Lovely to see you.’ She lowered her voice the merest fraction. ‘This village is going to the dogs. That funny little girl in the hideous dress bleating on about Ikea and that frightful woman Mark asked to organise the party, what in God’s name was he thinking? But you haven’t changed, thank goodness. Just remind me to give you Felice’s phone number, she’ll show you how to do your hair and make-up properly, darling.’

  George cut in hastily with, ‘And how are things going at Highbury Foods? Mark tells me you’re very talented at marketing.’

  Really? He’d given no sign of being impressed so far. I was about to say something to that effect, when Gusty clapped her hands to draw our attention.

  She surveyed us all with a condescending smirk. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I know it’s the middle of winter but I thought I’d bring you a taste of summer with a little cookery demonstration. I’m making Fraises à la Neige, which means strawberries in snow for the uninitiated, so simple that even my better half Philip can do it. Everything’s set up through here’ – gesturing grandly at the conservatory – ‘although it’s impossible to get decent strawberries at this time of year. These ones were flown in from Spain or somewhere, but of course in the summer I’d pick them, fresh. Make a little outing of it, you know.’

  Batty piped up, ‘That’s just what we do every June at B
ob Taylor’s pick-your-own fruit farm on the Kingston road. Poor man, he’s never been the same since he … We take a picnic and have a wonderful time, you’d be welcome to join us, dear.’

  Gusty scowled. ‘I’m going to be organising my own pick-your-own outing. Up to London, Fortnum & Mason in fact, very select.’

  I caught Mark’s eye and, for a split second, we shared one of our old knowing looks. Then he turned abruptly away.

  As if in a dream, I watched Gusty bully everyone into the conservatory; at least, almost everyone. The sight of Mark leading Harriet off in another direction wasn’t a dream – it was a short, sharp dose of reality. Behind me, I heard a loud curse as someone collided with the door.

  I whirled round to find Flynn rubbing his elbow. ‘Oh hi, Tom said you were on your way.’

  He grimaced. ‘I gave up dinner at the Ritz for this, hope it’s bloody well worth it. Funny how people are too ill to see me but not too ill to come here.’

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ I said, giving him a bemused look.

  He forced a smile. ‘Sorry, it’s been a long day. Don’t suppose there’s any decent whisky in this place?’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  Just then, Gusty came marching up to us. ‘Flynn, you gorrrgeous man, I want your professional opinion of my strawberries in snow.’ She slipped her arm coquettishly through his. ‘Come along, don’t be shy.’

  Flynn jerked his arm away. ‘You can stick your strawberries up your – ’

  ‘We’re not in the mood,’ I put in quickly. ‘Another time maybe.’

  Gusty glared at me. ‘I hardly think so. Do you realise how much time and effort this demonstration’s taking? Not to mention the expense, although I told Sheila Burn to claim back every penny she’s spent from Mark, it’s nothing to do with me.’ She spun on her heel and stalked off.