Page 104 of The Importance of Being Emma
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~~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 turned into the Knightleys’ drive. When we were nearing the house, I said, ‘Just in case what?’
