Accidentally Together

by Jade Winters

  ‘Well you’ll know soon enough,’ Gina said. ‘And when you do, cc us all in an email, won’t you?’

  ‘Don’t bother with me,’ Wendy said, flipping a page of the Wedding Daze magazine she was reading.

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t,’ Emma said.

  Wendy burst out laughing.

  ‘Share the joke, then,’ Jack said.

  ‘Some people are so tacky,’ Wendy said. ‘There’s an article on controversial wedding decisions. The worst so far is a bride’s choice of wedding cake. This one chose a ginger bread cake. How tacky. Can you imagine the sight of an ugly brown sponge sitting in the middle of a beautifully decorated table? It beggars belief, doesn’t it?’

  ‘What beggars belief is your judgemental attitude. Does anyone escape your wrath?’ Emma said.

  ‘Is that the time?’ Jack pulled Emma to her feet. ‘Home for you. You’ve got a mission to complete, remember? I’ll be eagerly checking my email for your update.’

  Emma unhooked her coat from the back of her chair. ‘Okay. If you don’t hear from me by eight, you know someone’s done away with me.’

  ‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed,’ Wendy said, putting her specs back on her nose.

  Chapter Eleven

  Emma mentally rehearsed what she would say to the tenant. I’m the one who called the police when I saw the intruder in your apartment.

  How could you see inside my place from all the way over there? she imagined the fictitious tenant replying.

  How indeed.

  ‘Just admit you were looking for cheap thrills,’ she muttered under her breath, ashamed of herself. Maybe Wendy was right; maybe she was a pervert.

  But the end justifies the means, she tried to convince herself—unsuccessfully.

  ‘Hold the door,’ Emma called out to the parcel deliveryman entering the building. He looked at her with impatience but waited until she was inside. She headed for the lift and he walked off in the opposite direction.

  How will I explain without seeming like a nutter? No intelligent person would fall for her story about gazing at the stars, the police certainly hadn’t. No, there had to be another way. The lift doors opened and she stepped inside. Pressing the button for the twentieth floor, she gathered her thoughts. Okay, I’ve got my cover story. I’ll say my binoculars were a present, which they were, and I was trying to see my sister coming up the road. Yeah, that sounds plausible.

  When the lift halted and the doors opened, Emma walked the hundred yards to the door she assumed was the right one. With her story straight in her head, she pressed the bell and waited. She heard footsteps, then silence. Imagining an elderly woman lying on the floor in a pool of blood, she rang the bell again, followed by a couple of knocks on the door.

  ‘Hello,’ she called.

  The echo of her knock faded for the third time. There was still no answer, and she didn’t hear any groaning or other signs of distress. Deciding the occupant didn’t want to be disturbed, Emma turned to go. At least I tried.

  Not five steps towards the lift, she heard the distinct sound of a lock turning and the creaking of a door opening.

  ‘Hey,’ a strong female voice said. ‘Can I help you?’

  Goosebumps exploded up and down Emma’s skin. That voice.

  No, it wasn’t possible.

  A knot of anticipation tightened in Emma’s stomach. The world couldn’t be that small. Emma turned towards the apartment, a fake smile plastered on her face. Her heart pounded as she tried to calm herself.

  It’ll be a complete stranger with an eerily familiar voice.

  ‘Hi, sorry, I was …’ Whatever she was going to say died on her lips. The woman leaning out of the apartment had blonde hair, but her face, though older and thinner, was unmistakable. Emma would know; she had been living with the vision of Lauren in her mind for most of her adult life.

  ‘Lauren?’ Her name emerged from Emma’s throat in a hoarse whisper.

  The other woman’s eyes widened. ‘Do I know you?’

  Her response punched Emma in the gut. Had she really changed so much in the intervening years, or was she just a fleeting memory from Lauren’s past?

  Emma walked back to Lauren, accruing time to compose herself.

  Shock ricocheted in Lauren’s grey eyes, and she let out an incredulous laugh. ‘Emma? What the …? How?’

  Emma’s knees weakened, and she placed her hand on the wall, thankful for the support.

  ‘I was going to ask you the same,’ Emma said.

  Lauren gave Emma a bright smile—the same smile she often remembered.

  ‘Come here,’ Lauren said, stepping out of her apartment, and wrapping Emma in a hug.

  The feel of Lauren’s body surrounding her and the familiar scent of the Jean Paul Gaultier perfume she wore made her head spin.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Lauren asked as she pulled away, keeping Emma at arm’s length. ‘How did you know I was staying here?’

  Emma blinked, some of her shock wearing off.

  ‘Know you …?’ Emma shook her head. ‘I didn’t. I live across the street. I came to check that the tenant who lives here was okay after the break-in.’

  Lauren’s eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. ‘How did you know about the break-in?’

  Emma stepped out of Lauren’s hold, heat burning her face. ‘Because I reported it.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘I’m your neighbour. I live in the block opposite you at number 2253,’ Emma rambled as she prepared to launch into her rehearsed story. ‘Anyway, I was testing out my new binoculars—’

  Lauren’s perfect eyebrow rose.

  Emma huffed. ‘They were a birthday present. I was looking out for Hope—’

  ‘Hope’s still living in London as well?’ The caged looked in Lauren’s eyes faded as disbelief coloured them.

  The sight allowed Emma to take a breath and relax as she redirected the focus from her. ‘Yeah, she lives in Elephant and Castle. So how long have you lived here? How have I not bumped into you before now?’

  ‘Only a few days. I found this place on Airbnb. It’s only for a little while. I’m here on business.’

  ‘Oh.’ Emma’s joy plummeted. ‘What’s a little while?’

  ‘A couple of weeks.’

  ‘A couple of weeks?’ The words came out high-pitched from the disappointment tightening her throat. That wasn’t nearly enough time to reconnect. A blur of questions spun in her mind. How would she find out about the past fourteen years of Lauren’s life in two weeks?

  With a deep sense of foreboding, she asked, ‘Then where?’

  Oh God, please don’t let her say some country that requires two planes and a boat ride to get to.

  ‘Back home to Paris.’

  ‘Paris, huh.’ Emma did a quick calculation. Paris, that’s two and a half hours away. Well, three if you add on the time it takes to get to Kings Cross. That’s not as bad as it could be. Fares are cheap enough. She concluded her train of thought before she got carried away. Who said Lauren would even invite her over to visit?

  Lauren jerked her head towards her apartment. ‘Have you got time for a drink?’

  ‘Sure,’ Emma said, proud that her voice had sounded casual and confident, betraying none of the nerves assaulting her.

  She followed Lauren inside the apartment.

  ‘I just need to let my colleagues know you’re okay. Well, not you specifically, but the person living here,’ Emma said, taking her phone from her pocket as she walked down the hallway towards the living room.

  ‘Wine? Tea? Coffee?’ Lauren enquired.

  ‘Wine would be great, thanks.’ When Lauren disappeared through the doorway, Emma sat on the comfy sofa and pulled up her email on her iPhone.

  Fear not. I’m fine. You won’t

  believe it, but the tenant is

  someone I knew at school :-0

  She resisted the urge to write something insulting about Wendy and instead pressed ‘send’ and shoved the phone back in
to her pocket. Leaning against the cushion, still giddy with excitement, she took in the apartment with a sweeping glance. It was impressive, she decided. While the layout was the same as her own apartment, the interior design lent the space a different vibe. Classy. Well put together by someone who knows what they’re doing.

  The dark floor was expensive laminate, unlike the cheap crap she’d picked up at B&Q during a bank holiday sale. Noting the absence of bits and bobs hanging around, she thought about the state she’d left her bedroom in that morning and felt a little guilty. Everyone else managed to keep their homes spotless—except her. I’ll tidy up when I go home.

  As Emma slipped out of her jacket, a large, colourful canvas hanging on the wall drew her eye.

  ‘Here we go.’ Lauren entered the room, a glass of white wine in each hand. She passed one to Emma before lowering herself onto a multi-coloured rug, carefully balancing her wine in one hand.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Gosh, the last time I saw you, you still had braces. Look at you now. You’ve grown your hair. That’s why I didn’t recognise you at first.’ Lauren glanced at Emma’s hand as she brought the glass to her lips. ‘Not married?’

  ‘Me? Oh no.’

  Lauren looked at her with interest. ‘Kids?’

  ‘Does it look like it with a figure like this?’ she joked. ‘What about you?’

  ‘Nope. Where would I find the time … or a man?’

  Hmm, that’s a bit of an ambiguous statement. Emma giggled. ‘There is that.’

  ‘So how’s Hope?’

  ‘She’s doing really well. She runs her own web design business. Her latest client is Wedding Daze. She’s building them a new site from scratch.’

  The flicker in her eyes told Emma she was impressed.

  ‘And you?’ Lauren asked. ‘What career path did you choose?’

  ‘I’m a counsellor.’

  ‘For?’

  ‘Men and women who are trying to come to terms with their sexuality and all that comes with it. Finding the right way to tell family and friends, being out at work. That sort of thing.’ Bumping into the love of your life again and realising you haven’t got the faintest idea what to do about it.

  Lauren rocked back on her heels. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yep. I work for the Living Well Foundation.’

  Emma was proud to be part of the organisation. They provided a lot of help to vulnerable people. The founder, Janet Lewis, had opened the place in honour of her daughter who had committed suicide on her twentieth birthday in the early eighties. The harrowing letter she had left behind stated she couldn’t see a future for herself in a world where there was so much hatred and anger toward people because of who they loved. Janet had spoken at Emma’s university, and Emma was so moved that she volunteered to work for the charity while she obtained her degree in counselling. After she had earned her degree, Janet offered her a full-time job, and she hadn’t hesitated to accept.

  ‘It’s not surprising you ended up doing something that involved helping people find themselves, especially after all the slack you took at school for being different.’

  ‘Which would have carried on if it wasn’t for you.’ Emma sipped her wine. Where the hell am I going with this? Why can’t I just ask her where she disappeared to?

  Emma hesitated as the courage she was waiting for failed to materialise.

  ‘What about you?’ she asked instead. ‘What path did life lead you down?’

  ‘Oh here and there.’

  ‘Care to be more specific?’

  Sounding evasive, Lauren said, ‘Um, photography.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Uh-huh. Here, let me refill that, unless you’ve got somewhere to be?’ Lauren said, reaching for Emma’s glass. Her fingers were smooth and cool as they overlapped Emma’s and a tremor of pleasure raged through her body.

  ‘No, no a refill would be great, thanks,’ she said. Nothing in the world could have dragged her away from Lauren, even if her life had depended on it.

  ‘So what kind of pictures do you take?’ Emma asked when Lauren returned with her refilled wineglass. ‘Wildlife? Buildings?’

  ‘People,’ Lauren answered and sat back down on the rug.

  Emma watched the words form on Lauren’s sensual lips and realised she had never wanted to kiss someone so much. The air rushed from Emma’s lungs, and she had to inhale deeply to steady herself. I hope she didn’t notice.

  ‘What, like models?’

  ‘No, just strangers going about their everyday lives.’

  Her soft, affectionate tone made Emma feel as if she were floating on large, white, fluffy clouds in the clear blue sky. When Lauren stared wordlessly across at her, Emma wondered what would have become of them had fate not intervened. Would they have survived the trials and tribulations of their early and late twenties and still have been together today? Couples did it all the time. They met at school, married, had kids, and were still living happily together. Some couples, anyway. After all the time that had passed, there was so much she wanted to say … and so much she realised she couldn’t say, except: ‘So was anything valuable taken yesterday?’

  ‘No. Mrs Nooks, the woman who owns the apartment didn’t think so.’

  ‘That painting looks valuable.’

  Lauren followed her gaze. ‘Believe me, it has no value whatsoever. I painted it myself.’

  ‘You did?

  ‘Yep. I brought it as a gift for Mrs Nooks as a thank you for letting me book on such short notice.’

  ‘Lucky her. It’s amazing.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Talk about hiding your talent under a bushel. Was Lauren one of those talented artists who always viewed their work as inferior no matter how impressed everyone said they were?

  ‘Is that why you left all those years ago? To find the Van Gogh within?’ Emma was sorry she’d asked when a dark expression crossed Lauren’s features.

  ‘I needed to get away.’

  ‘Sounds quite drastic. Don’t tell me. You committed a scandalous crime and have been doing time,’ Emma said to lighten the mood.

  ‘If you don’t mind, I’d prefer not to talk about it.’ Her voice trailed off.

  ‘Oh okay. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Hey, you haven’t said anything wrong. It’s just a time in my life I’d rather forget, okay?’ Lauren leant forward and placed her hand on Emma’s knee, sending her pulse into a frenzy.

  Is our kiss included in that statement? Silence settled between them, both women lost in thought.

  The bell chiming was all it took for the atmosphere in the room to drop to a cold zero. Lauren’s hand jerked and her wine spilt everywhere.

  ‘Damn!’ Lauren cursed, jumped up, and grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table. She mopped up the stains pooling on the carpet.

  Puzzled by her reaction, Emma took a handful of tissues and joined her, swabbing at the damp carpet.

  She glanced at the pale face of the woman kneeling on the floor next to her. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ Lauren said, her voice terse, and she flashed a small smile at Emma that didn’t reach her clouded, grey eyes.

  ‘I think somebody’s still waiting for you to answer the intercom.’

  Lauren looked at her in confusion, then smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. ‘The intercom. Yeah, right. Won’t be a minute.’

  Lauren nimbly leapt up and left the room. Emma gathered the used tissues and leant over the sofa to throw them in the bin. In her peripheral vision, she noticed a lone suitcase. Whoa, she travels light for two weeks.

  Whenever Emma went on a two-week holiday, she always had at least two suitcases to accommodate her needs, which was a waste of time because she never got around to wearing most of her swimwear, clothes, or shoes. Instead, she usually managed with a vest, sarong, and sandals.

  She righted herself in her seat as the living room door opened a few minutes later and Lauren walked in with a tall, well-built man.


  ‘Emma, this is Frankie. Frankie, Emma.’ Lauren waved a hand between the two people by way of explanation.

  Emma rose and extended her hand to the interloper, taking in his startling blue eyes that smiled at her as he shook her hand.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ she said.

  ‘Likewise, Emma.’

  The three stood in awkward silence. Despite his friendliness, Frankie’s presence had unbalanced the mood in the room. Trust someone to turn up just when things were getting interesting. Typical!

  Noting Frankie glancing at her now and again, Emma took the hint that he wanted to be alone with Lauren. She grabbed her jacket from the sofa and slipped her arms into it. ‘I didn’t realise the time. I’d better be off. Thanks for the drink.’

  Lauren nodded toward Emma’s full glass. ‘But you haven’t—’

  ‘It’s okay. I’ve got some, um, washing to do.’ Washing? You bloody idiot.

  ‘If you’re sure,’ Lauren said. ‘I’ll walk you to the door.’

  Emma noticed, with a surge of happiness, the note of regret in Lauren’s voice.

  ‘Thanks. See you, Frankie.’ Emma threw the farewell over her shoulder as she left the room.

  ‘Bye,’ he said.

  Great. They’ll be finishing the wine meant for us. Emma followed Lauren to the front door. ‘It was so good to see you again, Lauren.’

  ‘You too.’ Lauren opened the door for Emma to exit. ‘Tell Hope I said hello.’

  ‘I will.’ Emma hovered in the communal hallway. She was disappointed when Lauren failed to mention meeting up with her again and assumed she had her hands full with Mr Pretty Boy standing in her living room. ‘Well, if you’re ever at a loose end, drop by for a coffee or something—like tea,’ Emma quickly added.

  Lauren assessed her and then said, ‘I might just take you up on that offer. It really was good to see you again.’

  When the door closed, Emma fought the urge to press her ear against the oak wood in the hope of overhearing their conversation. Did she really want to hear Lauren making out with a man behind closed doors?

  Not a chance in hell.