Secret Schemes and Daring Dreams (22 page)

‘So why have you got his phone?' Adam persisted.

‘It was in the marquee – he must have dropped it,' Emma replied. ‘Adam, what do you know about Judy?'

He shrugged. ‘Nothing,' he replied. ‘Lucy did ask Freddie about her, but he just said she was history and changed the subject.'

‘Funny sort of history,' Emma murmured. ‘Read this.' She scrolled to Messages and shoved the phone under Adam's nose.

Adam read it, coloured and passed the phone to Lucy.

‘Oh Emma,' she said, scanning the message and then
tossing the phone back to Adam and giving her a hug. ‘I'm so sorry. I know how you feel about Freddie.'

‘Don't worry, he's not that special,' Emma assured her. ‘Now read his reply – in the Outbox.'

Two seconds later, Lucy was hugging her again. ‘I can't believe he's gone rushing off to her. But you don't have to be brave,' she told her. ‘We understand.'

Emma was about to come clean about her pulling ploy when the phone bleeped.

‘It's a voicemail,' she said and was about to listen to the message when Adam snatched the phone back. She and Lucy watched as his expression changed from one of bewilderment, through irritation and then to sheer panic.

‘Freddie hasn't turned up at the airport,' he gasped. ‘His father's not a happy man. The flight is due to start boarding in half an hour. Where the hell is he?'

Lucy and Emma exchanged glances. To any female brain it was blatantly obvious where he was.

‘I overheard Jake telling him not to let his father rule his life,' Emma said. ‘Pity he didn't put him straight about letting some neurotic girl dominate him.' She paused, a hand clamped to her mouth. ‘Hey, wait a minute!' she cried. ‘We're being dim here. We've got the number for this Judy, right? Why don't we phone her and ask to speak to Freddie – that should do it.'

‘Cool idea,' Lucy enthused. ‘Go on then!'

‘You do it, Adam,' Emma suggested. ‘Just say you're the photographer ringing from Carstairs Countrywear . . .'

‘On a Sunday?'

‘Oh, don't be pedantic,' Emma said airily. ‘These journalistic types work twenty-four seven. Just do it.'

Adam scrolled through the menu. ‘Is this it, do you reckon? J?'

‘Must be.' Lucy nodded. ‘Go on then.'

Adam tapped his fingers, impatiently waiting for the call to be picked up.

‘Hello, can I speak to Freddie Churchill please? It's really urgent. I'm ringing from . . . pardon? Well, yes, I know this is Freddie's phone – he dropped it and . . . Pardon?'

Adam's face flamed. ‘Hang on, there's no need to be like that! Hello? Hello?'

He stared at Lucy and Emma. ‘Some guy answered, said I was a conniving, money-grabbing bastard, told me to go to hell and rang off,' he exclaimed. ‘
What
is going on?'

‘Emma, wait!' George came thundering down the front steps as Emma was saying goodbye to Lucy and Adam. ‘I've got Freddie on the phone,' he said, waving a handset in the air. ‘He's lost his mobile and he's desperate to know —'

‘It's OK, I've got it,' Emma said with relief. ‘Only I need to speak to him.'

‘Emma's found it,' George shouted into the phone. ‘What? OK then – oh, she wants to speak . . . pardon? Got you. OK, bye.'

‘George, I said I wanted to speak to him.'

‘Well he didn't want to speak to you,' George replied. ‘He was in a rush – he'd only just got to the airport.'

‘So, he's with his dad?'

‘I guess,' George muttered. ‘At least he paid the bill before he scuttled off. Now can I have the phone please?'

‘Why?'

‘Freddie wants the phone switched off and locked up in the hotel safe till he can collect it,' George explained. ‘He was really stressed about it.'

‘Was he now?' Lucy looked thoughtful. ‘I wonder why.'

‘George? You're not still mad at me, are you?'

Emma followed him into the office after Adam and Lucy had headed off in the car.

‘I just can't get my head around the way you were with Lily,' he admitted, switching Freddie's phone off. ‘I mean, I've always known you were controlling and wanted your own way and thought you were the centre of the universe —'

‘George, I'm not like that!' A sob caught in Emma's throat.

‘Lily has hero-worshipped you since she was eight,' George snapped. ‘Remember how she used to hang around for hours until you deigned to let her climb into the tree house? How she helped you clean your pony's tack so that you'd reward her with ten minutes on the leading rein in the orchard?'

‘I know, so that proves I'm nice.'

‘Hmm. You
can
be nice,' George said, tossing the phone into the safe and turning the lock. ‘You can be lovely and funny and kind – when it suits you. When it doesn't, you can be downright cruel.'

‘I'll go and make it up with her,' Emma blurted out. ‘Honestly, I'll tell her I didn't mean it, I'll say I'd drunk too much . . .'

‘Well, that bit's true,' George agreed.

‘Just say we're friends,' Emma pleaded. ‘We are, aren't we?'

George looked at her unblinkingly for several seconds. Then he sighed and the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. ‘Friends? Yes, I guess we are.' He nodded. ‘I guess we always will be.'

Relief flooded through Emma. ‘I'll find Lily right now,' she said. ‘I'll make it right, I promise.'

As it turned out, making friends with Lily wasn't nearly as easy as she had assumed. She ran all the way to Keeper's Cottage and banged on the door. It was answered by Jake.

‘Hi, can I speak to Lily, please?' she asked, one foot already over the threshold.

‘I think you've said enough to Lily!' Jake was unsmiling.

‘It was a misunderstanding,' Emma began. ‘If you'll just let me come in I can explain.'

‘Sorry,' he said, barring her way.

‘Hang on, this isn't your house,' Emma replied, struggling to keep her cool. ‘You may think you can tell Freddie how to deal with his own father, but you can't tell me what to do.'

‘Freddie's father? What are you on about?' Jake asked.

‘I heard you, so don't pretend to me,' Emma said. ‘Telling him to make a clean break, as if it was any of your business.'

She heard a cough from behind the closed kitchen door and recalled her reason for being there. ‘Mrs Bates, it's me, Emma.'

There was no reply.

‘She knows it's you,' Jake said calmly. ‘And she told me to get rid of you.'

‘Oh.' Emma swallowed hard, determined not to cry in front of him. ‘I'll – I'll write a note.' She turned to go.

‘Emma?' Jake called softly.

‘What?'

‘Just so as you know,' he said, ‘I've never discussed Freddie's father with him. Anything you may have heard was about someone else.' He hesitated, his hand on the door knob. ‘I really thought Freddie had explained it all to you. I'm sorry.'

Before she had the chance to ask him what he meant, the door closed in her face.

As she walked disconsolately towards Hartfield, Emma noticed the band's van parked near the lodges, its back doors swinging open. Dylan and Ravi were loading equipment and kitbags into the back.

‘Hey, what's going on?' she called. ‘You've got another week yet.'

‘That's where you're wrong,' Dylan shouted back. ‘We're heading for the big time – and it ain't here!'

As Emma walked over to the guys, desperate to find out what he was talking about, Miranda emerged from one of the lodges.

‘Great news, isn't it?' she said. ‘You've heard, of course?'

Reluctantly, Emma had to admit that she hadn't.

‘We've only just told Tarquin,' Ravi burst out. ‘See, we've got a recording contract with Mango Pippins!'

‘You're joking? That's so cool!' Emma gasped, genuinely stunned by their apparent meteoric rise. ‘Did my dad organise it?'

‘No, it's all down to Miranda,' Dylan told her. ‘See, this top guy from the label is the brother of the owner of the Mango night club chain. He read Miranda's taster piece and came to the club last week and said we were – what was it, Ravi?'

‘Boundary breaking.' Ravi grinned. ‘We're going to his studios to sign up.'

‘Thanks to Miranda's journalistic genius,' Ravi added, throwing her a somewhat cloying smile.

‘Actually, it was my father who gave you the break,' Emma said sharply.

‘And me who brought them to the notice of people who matter,' Miranda added.

‘I've just seen Jake,' Emma mused, ignoring Miranda's self-satisfied smirk. ‘He never said a word about it.' Not, she thought miserably, that he was likely to tell her anything.

‘Oh well, you know Jake. He's still pining.' Dylan laughed.

‘What?' he added, glaring at Ravi who was nudging him in the ribs.

‘For Caroline?' Emma said. ‘I thought they split ages ago.'

‘Yeah,' Dylan muttered. ‘He takes things hard. Anyway, we gotta get on; this van won't pack itself.'

‘Emma, wait!' Miranda caught up with her just as she reached her front door. ‘Look, I can't believe this, but something tells me you're not fully in the picture,' she began.

‘About what?'

‘Freddie.'

‘Oh, don't start that again!' snapped Emma, who just
wanted to get to her room and have a good cry.

‘Emma, I'm trying to be nice to you,' Miranda persisted, ‘though heaven knows why, after the way you treated poor Theo.'

‘Poor Theo, as you put it, is a rampant social climber with the emotional intelligence of a disadvantaged flea,' Emma snarled. ‘Actually, you seem pretty well suited.'

‘Well, don't say I didn't try,' Miranda retorted. ‘By the end of the week, you might be wishing you weren't quite such an egotistical little madam!'

Emma bit her lip and stalked into the house, only to bump into Harriet careering through the front door.

‘I could scream! Where did Theo find that girl?' Emma exploded, gesturing to Miranda's retreating back. ‘Doing charitable work in a mental institution?'

Harriet's face clouded instantly and she turned away.

‘Oh God, sorry, Harriet – I didn't mean – it just came out – I'm so sorry.'

‘Forget it.' Harriet kept walking and didn't look back.

And Emma burst into tears.

For the next few days, Emma felt miserable and out of sorts. Lucy and Adam, relaxed now that they knew Freddie was being the dutiful son in Rome and not lying squashed on the motorway, were busy all week taking kids from the Centre on outings to Bodiam Castle and day trips to Calais; Lily, despite the fact that Emma had sent her a really funny card and apologised more than she really thought was necessary, was still avoiding her whenever she could; and most of her other friends were
jet-setting off to the Maldives or Cape Cod, and sending exotic postcards and texts that were almost too explicit in their detail about their love lives.

George's news on the Friday following the party didn't help her mood one bit. Emma found him hurling golf clubs into the back of his car when she turned up to help his mother check out the table plan for the
Midsummer Night's Dream
wedding the following day.

‘Skiving off for the day?' she joked.

‘No, two weeks,' he replied. ‘I was just going to come and find you. I didn't want to go without saying goodbye.'

‘Where are you going?' she asked, her heart sinking. ‘You can't leave us in the lurch. What about the wedding?'

‘Don't worry, Mum's got everything in hand – there's a whole bunch of temps coming for the day and she's interviewing new staff as we speak,' he said. ‘The thing is – well, I got my MBA . . .'

‘Brilliant, well done!' She gave him a hug. ‘That is so cool.'

‘Yeah.' He didn't sound terribly elated. ‘Thing is, something's happened – something big – and I need to get away and get my head around it before I – well, before I take the plunge.'

‘What is it? Can I help?'

‘I wish,' he said with a sigh. ‘No – this is all down to me to deal with.' He slammed the boot lid closed. ‘I'm going up to Ballater. A friend of mine has a house up there and I'll do some fishing and play some golf,' he explained. ‘Nothing like an eight-hour hike up Lochnagar to focus the mind.' He opened the car door,
turned and gave her a quick hug. ‘Be good while I'm away. If that's possible. Take care.'

And with that, he got in the car, fired the engine and drove away.

Such was the parlous state of Emma's social life that she was inordinately relieved that Harriet seemed incapable of bearing grudges. Within twenty-four hours of Emma's tactless remark, Harriet had been back to her normal self, enthusing about Annabelle Paxton-Whyte's wedding, exclaiming with delight when George's mother suggested that she could lead a party of visiting children round the Woodland Walk and Nature Trail and bursting with enthusiasm over Max's idea of a murder mystery weekend in the middle of August. So when Emma, feeling even more disconsolate after George's unexpected departure, decided that the only cure for boredom was a mega shopping trip, she invited Harriet to go with her.

‘Great, super,' Harriet agreed. ‘Actually, that's cool because, guess what? The doctors think Mum might be ready for a home visit next week and I need to get some stuff to brighten the place up.'

Emma was about to question whether seeing her husband's new flat might not be enough to send her mother back into the depths of despair but, remembering her past faux-pas, she merely smiled and said she was thrilled, and perhaps this was going to be a chance to put the past behind them.