The Importance of Being Emma (29 page)

Elton smirked. ‘What a great idea, can’t wait to see who you’ve got lined up for me. And Gusty won’t mind a bit, she’s always more than happy to network.’

At that moment Emma hurried up to us, her face pale and set. ‘Kate, I need a word about the seating plan. In private.’

Kate smiled at her. ‘In a minute, Emma.’ She turned to me with an apologetic look. ‘Slight change to the original plan, you’re partnering me now.’

‘
Delighted,’ I said automatically, wondering what was bothering Emma; maybe Kate had slipped up and she’d not been paired with Churchill.

Kate turned to Elton. ‘Philip, you’re with Harriet. It’s the first Highbury Foods party for both of you, I thought you could compare notes.’

The effect on Elton was instant; his features froze in an ugly mask. ‘For fuck’s sake, I can’t possibly partner
her
.’

We all stared at him.

‘
Gusty knows no one here except me,’ he went on, his voice rising to a petulant whine. ‘It wouldn’t be fair to split us up, I
insist
on us being together.’

Emma moved forward. I saw her hand start a swift upward swing and knew that in a couple of seconds she would slap Elton’s face. Even though the wanker deserved it, I couldn’t let her do it.

‘
Harriet,’ I said, stepping quickly in front of Emma, ‘I’d love you to be my partner – it’s the first time here for me, too. Kate, would you mind?’

Kate let out a long breath. ‘Not at all, I’ll partner Terry. Which means you can partner your girlfriend,’ she added, with a dismissive nod in Elton’s direction.

I gave Harriet a reassuring smile. ‘Shall we lead everyone in to dinner?’

As she came to stand at my side, blushing and giggling, something made me glance across at Emma.

She was looking straight at me, as if waiting for my cue … Her lips mouthed ‘Thank you’, then curved in a dazzling smile that made my heart pound like a drum. For a moment we were the only people in the room, sharing a secret, understanding each other perfectly, bound by old indestructible ties.

Perhaps the evening would be tolerable after all.

~~EMMA~~

Philip seemed unaffected by his outburst, devouring four courses with obvious relish.

Some of us weren’t quite so relaxed. I merely picked at the meal I’d been looking forward to for weeks; Harriet was even clumsier than usual, dropping her cutlery with monotonous regularity and giggling every time Mark retrieved it; Kate barely spoke, as if she couldn’t trust herself to be civil to anyone; and even Mark seemed to have lost his appetite. He made up for it in wine, though, and I couldn’t blame him. We were on the Table From Hell.

With the normally talkative Terry hampered by a silent Saint Jane on one side and a glowering Kate on the other, it was left to Flynn, Gusty and Tom to keep the conversation going. Gusty was more obnoxious than ever, boasting constantly about Maple Grove being ‘something big in Bristol’.

I managed a wan smile when Flynn whispered to me, ‘Doesn’t she mean “Bristols”?’, before returning to my thoughts.

Thoughts about Mark. Feelings of …

Gratitude, that was it; for my own sake as well as Harriet’s. After all, he’d rescued both of us from a humiliating scene, although I suspected no one else had noticed my instinctive reaction to Philip’s rudeness.

On one level, Mark had taken charge of the situation in his usual way – understated yet totally effective; on another level, his intervention had been nothing less than heroic. There was simply no other word for it.

I decided I would ask him for a dance, to thank him properly. So, when we’d finished the meal and the disco had started, I made my way towards him. But I had to grab the table to steady myself – probably the effect of too much wine and too little food. By the time I’d recovered, he was on the dance floor with Harriet; trust him to go the extra mile.

Dad beckoned to me from the next table and I went over, sympathy at the ready. ‘How was your special menu?’

He grimaced. ‘I’m not sure, there may be – repercussions. Kate and Tom are still taking me home, aren’t they? I hope they don’t stay too late.’

I made reassuring noises and moved away, on the pretext of checking that everyone was enjoying themselves. In reality, I was looking for Flynn. After such a promising start to the evening, I’d hardly exchanged two words with him. Now he was nowhere to be seen.

As I wandered round the room for the third time, I came to an abrupt halt. A few feet away, in a secluded corner, Mark was leaning back against a pillar; arms folded and eyes closed, the sadness on his face unmistakable.

He must really miss Tamara on a night like this …

I took a deep breath. ‘Mark, would you like to dance?’

He opened one eye, then the other, and gave a sardonic laugh. ‘With you? That’s the last sodding thing I need.’

I clenched my fists and turned away, his rejection stirring dark memories. ‘You’re as bad as Philip. No, you’re much, much worse!’

‘
Didn’t mean it to come out like that, must be the drink,’ I heard him mutter.

What sort of apology was that?

I whirled round and almost spat the words at him. ‘Why did I bother even asking? I should’ve remembered – dancing with me won’t do anything for your image, because I’m like your little sister. Funny, you didn’t think of that when you kissed me. Not a very brotherly kiss, I seem to recall.’

‘
Emma, I – ’

‘
Of course,’ I went on, lowering my voice to a hiss of contempt, ‘no one saw, so it didn’t matter. Whereas dancing with me in front of all these people – ’

He interrupted me with a quiet, ‘You’ve got it all wrong.’

I waited for him to elaborate, but he just looked down at the floor. In that case … Another deep breath. ‘No, Mark,
you’ve
got it all wrong. I’m sick of you being Big Brother, always watching out for me and bossing me around. It may have worked in the past, but it’s not working now!’

His head snapped up; his eyes met mine at last and his mouth twisted into a grim smile. ‘You’re right, it’s not. Not in any way, shape or form.’

I hesitated, wrong-footed by his lack of resistance. Then, ‘Does that mean you’ll treat me like an adult from now on?’

‘
An adult?’ He cleared his throat. ‘What exactly do you have in mind?’

I said the first thing that came into my head. ‘Pretend I’m Saint Jane. You know – beyond improvement, perfection on legs.’

‘
Perfection on legs? God, those legs … Got me into trouble with Tamara, that did … ’ His voice trailed away and I wondered what on earth he was rambling on about. He rubbed his temple as if soothing a nagging headache and went on, ‘Have you seen Jane? I was dancing with her before, then she just rushed off. Seemed a bit upset – any idea why?’

‘
Ask her yourself. Ask her why she’s been so moody since she came back from her little holiday. Ask her who she’s having a secret affair with.’ I gave him a pitying look. ‘Funny, I’d have thought someone with your powers of perception could see through her, but you’re as gullible as everyone else.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘
I’m
gullible? You can talk, falling for all Churchill’s crap and wrapping yourself round him like cling film!’

How dare he!

For a few seconds we just glared at each other, provoked beyond words. Then I turned and fled to a place where I knew I’d be safe from him: the Ladies. As I burst through the door, I crashed into Batty and nearly sent her flying. When I mumbled an apology and tried to dodge past her, she grabbed my arm – almost, but unfortunately not quite, speechless with excitement.

‘
I’ve been looking all over for you, dear, fancy bumping into you here.’ She gave a trill of laughter, then dropped her voice to a concerned whisper. ‘Poor Harriet, I heard all about Philip’s little … always knew there was a nasty streak in him, I remember that time when he … So Mark came to the rescue, did he? They made
such
a lovely couple on the dance floor, Sandy Perry and I almost wondered if there was something going on’ – knowing look – ‘but then he came over specially to ask Jane for the next one. And she agreed straightaway, even though she’d just refused to dance with … They made a lovely couple too, both so dark and tall and
striking
, as Sandy put it … Actually, I’m very worried about Jane, she’s not been herself for weeks now. I wanted her to come home with me tonight but she insists on staying here as planned, although she did promise me she’d go up to her room nice and early. Which reminds me, dear, I’ve got a little bedtime treat for you … I expect you’re like me and can never get to sleep in a strange place.’

She let go of my arm to rummage in her handbag, while I remembered the sort of treats she’d given me as a child – disgusting boiled sweets, hideous home-made clothes
for my Barbie dolls – and steeled myself for the worst.

‘
Mother’s sloe gin,’ she twittered. ‘We found her old recipe a few weeks ago and made some, she swears by it for a restful night. I’ve brought one for your father, and one for Mark, I expect he’s not had a decent night since Tamara left … Goodnight, dear, I
do
hope it does the trick.’

And she was gone before I could thank her.

I stayed where I was, welcoming the silence, turning her gift over and over in my hands. With no Flynn around, a little drink in the privacy of my hotel bedroom seemed my best option. Clutching the bottle to me for safe keeping, I went to say goodnight to Dad.

‘
You’ll be glad to know that Kate and Tom are taking me home any minute,’ he said, stifling a yawn. ‘And Mary’s given me some sort of fruit tonic to stop me worrying about you, darling. I really don’t like the thought of you spending the night here. Make sure you lock your bedroom door, you don’t know who’s on the prowl.’

I forced a smile. ‘I’m hardly going to be molested by prowlers.’

Or anyone else by the look of it, I added to myself.

As I went upstairs to my room, I couldn’t resist knocking on the door before mine, just in case Flynn was there; but I didn’t get an answer.

Telling myself there’d be a next time, I opened the door of 107, kicked off my shoes, unscrewed the cap of my little bottle and took an experimental sip or two of its contents. Quite nice, like Ribena with attitude. I fetched a tumbler from the bathroom, carefully emptied the bottle into it and sank onto the bed, stroking the smooth glass with my fingers, dwelling on everything that had – and hadn’t – happened during the evening.

After a few mouthfuls of sloe gin, I began to see the positive side. Far better to let my relationship with Flynn blossom – what a peculiar word! – away from the public eye. Away from Mark Knightley’s eye in particular … Mmmm, this drink was delicious; there weren’t any obvious effects either, Old Mother Bates must have gone very easy on the gin … Another mouthful, and another, and … God, this was almost as good as sex! I laughed to myself, a throaty little laugh that came out as a hiccup. Weird. Soon – even sooner than I’d expected – I found myself staring at the bottom of the glass. All gone.

I gave a loud sigh as I took off my earrings and necklace. ‘Time for bed. Time to see if Batty’s silly magic potion works. Bet it doesn’t.’

The thing was, I knew I had to do something first … Ah yes, get myself out of this dress. I stood up with barely a stagger and put the tumbler on the bedside table. Would you believe it – just as I did so, someone moved the table and the tumbler fell with a thud onto the carpet. I swore, reached round behind my back and fumbled with the fastening on my dress. Naturally, this sudden movement threw me off balance and I toppled onto the bed.

I lay there for a while, wondering what to do. There was only one thing for it; find someone to help. I knew Harriet’s room was on the same corridor as mine, but could I remember the number? Never mind, it would come to me. I picked up my room key from the bedside table, which someone had moved again, and navigated my way out; always tricky in a strange hotel room, so many doors to choose from until you got to the right one – I mean, how many bathrooms and wardrobes did this room have, for God’s sake?

At last I was in the corridor, shutting the door quietly behind me. Ouch, perhaps not as quietly as I’d thought. I walked past a few doors and read the numbers out loud, trying to jog my memory. I’d just got to the end of the corridor, when I heard a familiar high-pitched giggle.

Harriet. No doubt about it. Room 115.

The number didn’t ring a bell, but at least I’d tracked her down. Did the giggle mean she had someone with her? A potentially embarrassing situation; although I couldn’t imagine who it would be and, anyway, this was an emergency.

The door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open ever so gently, but it banged noisily against the wall behind and I had to put my hands out to stop it flying back in my face.

‘
Oops, must be stronger than I thought,’ I said, with a nonchalant laugh. More of a hiccup again, actually; must do something about that …

Once I’d tackled the door and my eyes had adjusted to the low lighting, I took in the scene. Large double bed, undisturbed; desk; two chairs, with a jacket and shirt thrown across them; Harriet, only a couple of feet away from me; next to the bed, a man. The most gorgeous man, in fact. Naked from the waist up; such a beautiful body, all bronzed and nicely toned … I had the feeling I’d seen him somewhere before, quite recently, with even less on –