Page 107 of The Importance of Being Emma
‘Whisky,’ I said, quietly. ‘Flynn’s had a long day and he’d like a whisky.’
Mark’s voice was cold and clipped. ‘Shall I bring it to you here or are you looking for somewhere more private?’
We weren’t; but I felt a sudden need to get back at Mark, make him believe someone found me desirable, even for just one minute. So I leaned in closer to Flynn and pressed my lips to the pulse just below his ear. If he was surprised, he didn’t show it; instead, his arm tightened round me.
I gazed up at Flynn but my words were for Mark. ‘The drawing room’s private enough, everyone’s in the conservatory. Come on, Flynn, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.’
As soon as we reached the drawing room, Flynn shut the door and pulled me gently round to face him.
‘What is it, Em?’ he said. ‘I mean, I’m very flattered but I don’t believe for one moment that you fancy me.’
I buried my face in his shirt in a useless attempt to shut out my despair. ‘Just hold me,’ I whispered. ‘For a minute or two. Please.’
And he did. He held me so tight that all I could hear was the steady beat of his heart. It soothed me, kept the tears at bay. When at last I stepped away from him, I noticed that someone had placed a decanter of whisky on the little table just inside the door.
There were two glasses, not one. That was Mark, thoughtful to the last.
* * *
~~MARK~~
My conversation in the study went well. As I’d anticipated, Harriet needed very little convincing to come to India. In fact, I had the feeling she’d need very little convincing to jump off a cliff; which was why I always knew I’d have to get her away from Highbury, to give the relationship a chance — although maybe India was taking things a bit far. Not that she asked me anything about the place; all she wanted to know was what clothes she’d need and whether she could take emergency supplies of something called Lambrini, which apparently always got her ‘in the mood’.
Her next question took me even more aback. ‘What’s that big white thing stuck in the middle of a pond, somewhere in India?’
I hazarded a guess. ‘The Taj Mahal?’
‘That’s it, Mum’s always wanted to sit on that bench where Princess Di sat. Now at least I can send her a photo of me doing it.’
I was about to explain that the Taj Mahal was over a thousand kilometres from Mumbai and I wasn’t sure there’d be time to visit it, when she came out with the question I had been expecting. ‘What shall I tell Emma?’
‘As little as possible,’ I said firmly. ‘She’ll only try to talk you out of the whole thing, that’s why it’s got to be a secret. Just tell her you’ve had the offer of a holiday out of the blue, all expenses paid, too good to miss and so on. It’s the truth, isn’t it? If she kicks up a fuss and says she needs you in the office, let me know immediately. But, as you’re a temp, there shouldn’t be a problem, the agency can always send someone else to do your job.’
She nodded eagerly. ‘Oh Mark, you’re brilliant, you think of friggin’ everything.’
‘I’ll finalise the travel arrangements and phone you tomorrow,’ I went on, opening the door into the hall. ‘Remember, not a word to anyone.’
As soon as I saw Churchill standing there with Emma, I knew India wasn’t too far away. When I took the whisky into the drawing room, they were already in each other’s arms; nothing passionate, just being close. Over the top of her head, Churchill caught my eye and smirked, as if he could see right through my air of indifference.
Just three days to go. Then there’d be no more need to pretend.
* * *
~~EMMA~~
After Flynn had poured himself a large whisky, I suggested letting Kate and Tom know he’d arrived. We found them in theconservatory, next to George and Harriet. Gusty was behind a table at one end of the room, stirring something in a pan over a little primus stove, with Philip hovering devotedly beside her. Mark was nowhere to be seen; neither was Saffron.
‘I’m using white chocolate, but it needs to beexcellentquality.’ Gusty gave a supercilious smile. ‘Philip thought the cheap stuff would do, he can be so half-witted at times. Pass me the platter, Philip — no, no, that’s a bowl, I said theplatter.’
‘You know who she reminds me of?’ Tom said, with a chuckle. ‘Fanny Cradock, bossing Johnnie about in those old TV clips. Ah, watch out, I think she’s looking round for her next victim.’
Fortunately, Gusty’s beady gaze got no further than David Perry. ‘DoctorPerry, I’m sure you’ll be an expert at this, it’s quite a delicateoperationand needs a steady hand!’
As David stepped forward apprehensively, Kate said under her breath, ‘For heaven’s sake, doesn’t she know he’s a GP, not a surgeon?’
‘You take a strawberry and hold it by the stalk — so,’ Gusty continued. ‘Then you dip it into the melted chocolate, wave it about to cool and put it on the platter like this. Strawberries in snow, you see?’ She pretended not to notice the spattering of white chocolate across the pristine slate-grey Amtico tiles. ‘You try this one, David. Anyone else like a turn?’
Batty darted to the table and picked up two strawberries at once. She was about to dip them into the chocolate when she hiccupped and promptly dropped them. She then staggered into Philip, causing him to lurch sideways and squash the fruit to a gooey pulp with his heel.
