Not Quite Perfect

by Annie Lyons

  ‘Good morning, beloved editor,’ says Richard from the doorway. Right, time to wake up now, thinks Emma. ‘Oh dear, someone’s in need of my never-fail hangover cure,’ he adds, grinning at her.

  Emma tries to speak, ‘But did I –?’

  ‘Yes, you stayed here last night.’

  ‘Oh no, no, no, no, no!’ cries Emma panicking. She leaps out of bed, thankful that she is at least wearing underwear.

  ‘Emma, it’s fine.’

  ‘No, Richard, it’s really not fine. I’m supposed to be engaged. This is distinctly not fine!’

  ‘Emma, calm down. You’re overreacting.’

  Emma looks at Richard as if he’s just fallen out of the Stupid Tree. ‘Overreacting? Look at me! I’m wearing your T-shirt, staying in your bed and I can’t even remember if we had sex or not! And I’m supposed to be your editor. This is highly unprofessional and extremely immoral!’

  ‘Emma, stop it, you’re starting to sound like Ann Widdecombe and to be honest, it’s a bit of a turn-on.’

  ‘Arrrrrrrgh, Richard!’ yells Emma, reaching for the nearest pillow and throwing it firmly in his direction. ‘This isn’t funny!’ He catches the pillow in a deft movement and peers out at her, trying not to smile.

  ‘God I love you when you’re angry.’

  ‘Grrrrrrrrrr!’ is all she can say as she throws another pillow.

  ‘Hey! Stop lobbing my pillows, they’re stuffed with very expensive Siberian goose feathers, you know.’

  ‘I’ll give you bloody Siberian goose feathers,’ she says lunging at him.

  He grabs her wrists and pulls her in close. She tries to resist but without much conviction. He holds her face and looks into her eyes. ‘Do you want to know what happened then, Emma Darcy? Do you want to know what the next strand in the plot is?’

  ‘Stop mucking about, Richard and just tell me.’

  Richard leans in and as soon as she feels his lips on hers, she responds. Richard pulls away. ‘That was it.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really. I know I like the ladies, but I would never take advantage, particularly of someone I feel so strongly about.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  ‘Look Emma, I meant what I said last night. I have real feelings for you, but I know that you are technically taken so it’s up to you how the story pans out. Marry whatshisface or think about what I said and reconsider your options.’

  Emma’s mind is racing. Isn’t this what she wanted? Last night was exciting and fun. Everything is more fun after champagne and ouzo but life has a habit of dumping you on your backside when you’re sober. It all seems so unreal now. She glances at her watch.

  ‘Oh shit! I’m supposed to be at work. Miranda is going to kill me! And what about Martin?’

  Richard takes her hands in his. ‘Look, Emma, you have to calm down. This is your life. You can do what you want. You don’t have to tell anyone anything. You can walk out of this flat now, pretend this never happened and we can carry on like before.’

  ‘How can we? Seriously, Richard, how could we just carry on like before?’ She is rushing round the room frantically retrieving her clothes.

  ‘Because we’re grown-ups and we’d have to. I wouldn’t like it but if it’s what you wanted, I’d respect it.’

  Emma is sitting on the bed trying to put on her tights. She looks at Richard. He is staring at her with an admiration she doesn’t think she deserves. She feels utterly confused and covers her face with her hands. ‘This is a nightmare! What am I going to do?’

  Richard sits next to her and puts an arm around her. ‘It will all be all right, I promise. Go to work, see how the day goes and we’ll speak later, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ says Emma sounding unsure.

  ‘Hey, hey,’ says Richard, lifting her chin and kissing her again. ‘I love you, don’t forget that, will you?’

  Emma looks into his steady clear brown eyes and thinks she can glimpse the future. ‘I won’t,’ she says with a shy smile.

  Rachel opens one eye as the clock radio drones out the day’s news. She glances over at Steve’s side of the bed and notices that it’s empty and on further inspection that it hasn’t been slept in. She feels sick and reaches into her bedside drawer for her mobile. It’s flashing with a text: ‘Missed last train home so stayed at friend’s – sorry. Didn’t call as didn’t want to wake you. See you later, S x’

  She feels reassured that he’s all right and now even sicker at the thought of who he was with. Before last night, she would have put Steve down as the last person to ever be unfaithful but she feels unsure about so many things these days. She is about to phone him when the bedroom door is flung open and Alfie announces that, ‘Lily did be hitting me.’ In the same way that small children prevent you completing many important tasks in a day, they also serve as a welcome distraction and Rachel is almost delighted to have to referee the twins. She becomes model mum, making them breakfast and Will’s packed lunch in record time. They are ready to go so early that she even puts the television on for them.

  ‘You’re the best mummy in the world,’ murmurs Alfie as he settles down for a little early morning Peppa Pig. Will moaned when he saw what was on but giggles happily along with his brother and sister. Rachel feels a lump catch in her throat as she catches sight of three of them laughing together. She sends Sue a text: ‘Any chance you could have Lily and Alfie for me for a couple of hours this morning pls? Don’t ask why – just need a bit of time to myself.’

  The answers pings back immediately: ‘Sure no probs – take all the time u need. Joe v excited.’

  Rachel smiles at her friend’s kindness, brushing away a tear and telling herself that 8:40 in the morning is not the time to fall apart. She wonders at the fact that all she had to worry about last week was moving to Scotland and now it feels as if her whole world is collapsing in on itself.

  ‘OK kids, time to go,’ she says in a croaky voice, helping them with their coats and ushering them out of the door.

  Emma teeters into the entrance lobby of Allen Chandler and uses all the strength her body can muster to press the lift button.

  ‘Someone looks a little fragile today,’ says a voice. Philippa’s bright and cheery face peers at Emma. ‘Big night, was it?’

  ‘You could say that,’ says Emma in a hoarse whisper. ‘How are things with you?’

  ‘Very good, thanks. Very good indeed.’ Philippa grins.

  ‘Well, I’m glad someone’s happy. See you later.’ Emma reaches her desk, wishing that a giant sledgehammer would appear from nowhere and finish her off.

  ‘Ooooh, you look –’ begins Ella.

  ‘Yes, I know. Bloody awful. Don’t say it and don’t ask me what happened. I can barely come to terms with it myself.’

  ‘Fair enough. So I take it you haven’t heard the news?’

  ‘What news?’

  ‘Ahhh, you need to read your e-mails.’

  ‘Oh God, what’s happened now? Please tell me they haven’t made Joel MD? I will literally have to top myself with this,’ says Emma brandishing a copy of the Oxford English Dictionary. Ella adopts a secretive and slightly superior look.

  ‘I’m saying nothing. Read your e-mails.’

  Emma switches on her computer and waits for her e-mails to open. Sifting through the usual trade news of the day, Emma sees an e-mail marked urgent and entitled ‘Changes To Personnel’. She clicks to open it, her mouth feeling dry. It’s from Philip Allen and is addressed to the whole company.

  Dear Colleagues,

  Thank you for your attendance at yesterday’s meeting and I know many of you have questions about the future of the company and how Digby’s departure will affect things. I am pleased to say that following discussions with the relevant members of staff, I can announce the following changes:

  With immediate effect, Miranda Winter will assume the role of MD. This is testimony to her hard work as Fiction Publisher and her tireless commitment to this company. Furthermore, we will be enhancing
the role of our Marketing Department and I am delighted to announce that Philippa Jones is promoted to Head of Marketing alongside Joel Riches. The attached document details how they will manage the marketing department between them. They will both report to Miranda.

  We believe that these changes will help us to continue with our commercial focus to deliver growth as well as maintaining our strengths as a publisher of quality and integrity.

  If you have any further questions, please speak to Miranda, Nancy or me.

  Kind Regards,

  Philip Allen

  CEO

  Allen Chandler

  ‘Ha!’ says Emma with unmitigated glee. ‘Bloody brilliant!’

  ‘I know,’ says Ella, returning with two steaming mugs. ‘I thought you could do with one of these.’

  ‘You are a gem but do you know what, suddenly I feel a lot better. Has anyone seen Joel?’

  ‘He’s surprisingly quiet this morning.’

  ‘Brilliant. Brill-eee-ant!’ Emma’s phone starts to ring and she glances at the caller ID and sees that it’s Martin. She suddenly feels sick. She had chickened out of speaking to him by sending a text. She is fearful that he’ll hear the guilt in her voice. She tells herself to get a grip. She hasn’t even done anything. Yet.

  ‘Hi, Martin,’ she says trying to sound upbeat.

  ‘Hey, gorgeous. I missed you last night.’

  ‘Oh, did you?’

  ‘Of course. How was Ella’s sofa?’

  ‘Oh fine, bit lumpy, but fine. Listen, I’ve got to go, Mart. I’ll see you later, OK?’

  ‘Can’t wait. I love you.’

  ‘OK, bye,’ says Emma ringing off and feeling as if her whole life is turning into one big fat lie.

  Rachel leans heavily against the front door as she pushes it shut behind her. She holds her breath against the silence. She pulls out her phone and dials Steve’s number. She has already tried it twice on the way back from Sue’s but it went straight to voicemail. This time it rings three times before Steve picks up.

  ‘Rach?’

  ‘Hi,’ she replies, unsure of what to say next.

  ‘Did you get my text?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m sorry, darl. So stupid to miss the last train. I lost track of time. Luckily Sam lives on the Tube line so I stayed on the sofa.’ Rachel feels her throat tighten. She can’t do this over the phone. ‘Rach? Are you still there? I’ve got a meeting to go to but I’ll make sure I’m home on time and I’ll put the kids to bed, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ she manages. He rings off and Rachel slumps onto the stairs. He’s actually admitted to going back to Sam’s. Surely he wouldn’t do that if there was something going on? Or maybe he would. She sighs and puts her head in her hands. She doesn’t know what to think any more. She can’t seem to order her thoughts into something that makes sense. A loud rat-a-tat at the door interrupts her train of thought and makes her jump. When she opens the door, she is overjoyed to be looking up into Tom’s smiling face. Suddenly, he seems like the only person she needs. She puts a hand to her mouth to try to stop the tears but she can’t. She is shaking and Tom looks worried and steps into the house offering her his arms. She accepts gratefully, feeling immediately safe. He closes the door behind him and holds her tightly, letting her cry.

  ‘Hey, Rachel, what’s all this? Are the kids OK? And Steve?’

  Rachel nods but can’t speak for a moment. She feels a surge of energy shoot through her body at Tom’s touch. He strokes her hair back from her face and looks down at her. As soon as their eyes meet, Rachel knows what is going to happen. She takes his face in her hands and pulls him towards her. He doesn’t resist and now they are kissing, her back against the wall. They move towards the living room, still locked in the kiss. Rachel starts to pull at his shirt and unbutton his flies, feeling his hands all over her. They reach the sofa and she lays back, landing on one of the kid’s squeaky toys. She casts it aside ready to pull Tom down towards her, but Tom is still looking at the toy.

  ‘Rachel, we can’t do this.’

  ‘Shhh, we can, come here,’ she says drawing him towards her and kissing him on his cheek and neck. This time he resists.

  ‘No, we can’t, Rachel,’ he says pulling away and doing up his belt.

  ‘Why? Don’t you find me attractive?’ she asks, feeling embarrassed by the way this sounds.

  Tom kneels in front of her and takes her hands in his. ‘Rachel, there is nothing I’d like more than to make love to you, but you are very married to a man who I really like.’

  ‘You can have him if you want!’ says Rachel, sounding petulant.

  ‘You have three beautiful kids,’ continues Tom ignoring the comment, ‘and I know how much you love Steve really. In a different life at a different time, I would be all over you in a heartbeat but we just can’t. I know you can see that too. Listen, I’m going to let myself out and we’ll catch up later over the garden fence while I’m being a saddo with my snails? As friends?’

  Rachel nods weakly, feeling ashamed and sad that something she was enjoying so much is coming to an end. Tom kisses her hand.

  ‘I hope you realise what a wonderful woman you are,’ he says.

  As she hears the door close, Rachel slumps back onto the sofa and sobs.

  Chapter 21

  Emma drags herself up the road, grateful for the end of the day and hoping that Martin won’t be home yet. All she wants is a hot bath, her bed and to avoid any incriminating conversations with her fiancé. She needs time to think properly and Martin’s cheery, reasonable presence won’t help her with this. She had contemplated going round to see Rachel but she didn’t feel ready to confess her sins yet. After all, there was nothing really to confess and she knew Rachel had a tendency to get a bit high and mighty sometimes. Plus her sister was fond of Martin. Emma feared that she might force her to confess all to him before she had worked it out properly in her own mind.

  She rounds the corner and feels her heart sink as she sees the light filtering out from the hall. There’s a car she doesn’t recognise parked outside. She turns her key in the door and calls, ‘Hello?’

  ‘In here,’ says Martin, his voice sounding gruff and angry.

  As she enters the kitchen, she is horrified to find Richard sitting at her kitchen table and Martin standing by the sink, his face set in a disgusted scowl.

  ‘Richard, what are you doing here?’ asks Emma.

  ‘I’m sorry, Emma, I had to come. I felt it was for the best,’ he says rising to kiss her. She pushes him away.

  ‘What was for the best?’

  ‘I’ve told him about us,’ he says.

  ‘What do you mean “us”? There is no “us”!’ says Emma.

  ‘How can you say that? You know I have feelings for you. I thought you felt the same. What about last night?’

  ‘Yes, Emma, what about last night?’ asks Martin angrily.

  ‘Nothing happened last night! It was just a kiss!’

  ‘Just a kiss?’ chorus the men, Richard sounding hurt and Martin mocking.

  Emma sinks into a chair and longs for a fairy godmother to magic these two men away. She is too tired to sort this out now. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says quietly. ‘I don’t know what to say. But Richard, you said you would give me time to think about everything. Why have you come here?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ says Richard, taking Emma’s hands. ‘I just couldn’t wait. I know how I feel about you and I sense that you feel the same. I thought it would be better for everyone if we told Martin as soon as possible.’

  ‘Very decent of you,’ says Martin bitterly.

  Emma looks at Martin and realises she owes him an explanation. ‘Richard, I think you should go,’ she says quietly.

  ‘But darling –’

  ‘Please. I need to talk to Martin.’

  ‘All right,’ says Richard with a sigh. ‘But promise you’ll call me.’

  ‘OK.’

  Emma follows him down the hall. On the doorstep, he stoop
s to kisses her on the mouth. ‘I mean everything I’ve said, Emma.’ He gives her a final wave before he drives off. She turns to see Martin staring at her, before he thumps up the stairs.

  ‘Martin! Wait! We need to talk,’ says Emma following after him. Once in the bedroom, he grabs a rucksack from the cupboard and starts to fling clothes into its gaping mouth. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘What does it look like I’m doing, Emma?’

  ‘Please stop.’

  ‘Why should I? So you can tell me more lies about where you’ve been over the past few months? I mean how long has it all been going on?’

  ‘Martin, please. You have to listen. I haven’t slept with him!’

  Martin stops ramming clothes into the bag and looks at her. ‘But you did kiss him?’

  ‘Yes, but –’

  ‘What? If you’re going to tell me it meant nothing, then don’t. I think I’m worth a bit more than that, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course, of course you are and I can understand why you’re angry but please, Martin, can we at least talk about this?’

  ‘What is there to talk about, Emma? Is there really any point? At least that tosser was upfront about it, but you’ve been lying all along, haven’t you? All the time we were making plans and you were giving me such a hard time about the wedding. Everything’s been a lie and God knows how long it would have carried on if he hadn’t decided to pay me a visit.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I just felt so –’ says Emma, struggling for the right word. She is suddenly hit by the enormity of what is happening and the uncontrollable feeling that she can’t stop it. Her legs give way and she sinks onto the edge of the bed.

  ‘Well Emma, how did you feel?’ demands Martin with rising impatience. ‘Too loved? Too worshipped? Too adored? Because all I’ve ever done is love you and if that’s not good enough, what hope do we have?’ Martin crouches in front of her, holding her by the shoulders. ‘We could have been so, so happy, Emma. Maybe I haven’t got the flash words or wit of Richard bloody Bennett and I like football and I could buy you flowers more, but I love you more than any man ever does or will and that’s the truth.’ He goes back to his packing.