Page 24 of The Importance of Being Emma
‘I would write, since Darren’s loitering around downstairs anyway. And be absolutely clear, give him no room to misunderstand you. You know, “really honoured . . . sorry to disappoint . . . no future in the relationship”. That sort of thing.’ I went quickly through into my room.
She came after me and stood at the door round-eyed. ‘You mean — sayno?’
‘What else? I thought you were just asking me the best way to say it.’
She chewed her lip.
‘So you were going to say yes?’ I hoped I sounded suitably incredulous.
‘I — I don’t know. What would you do if you were me?’
‘Harriet, I can’t tell you whether you should have a dirty weekend in Amsterdam or not, that’s entirely up to you.’
‘I didn’t know he was so keen, you know, love and all that.’ Harriet unfolded the note and gazed vacantly at it. I waited for her to speak, but she didn’t.
After a few moments, I said briskly, ‘What Icansay, from my considerable experience of men, is that if I don’t feel I can say yes to something immediately, then it’s just not meant to be. But I don’t want to influence you, Harriet, it wouldn’t be fair.’
‘Yeah, I know, it’s up to me. And I really like him.’
‘I really like lots of people, but I wouldn’t sleep with the vast majority of them.’
She reflected on this. ‘It’s a big decision, innit, to go away with someone for the weekend? I mean, we got a bit carried away on Tuesday night but we were interrupted. And maybe that was a sign, you know? Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. It’s not as if I fancied him right from the start, is it? I think maybe it’s safer to say no?’
‘I can’t possibly give you advice. If you can honestly say Robert Martin appeals to you more than anyone else . . .’ Ishrugged, then went on, in a more animated tone, ‘But isn’t it weird getting bouquets from two different men in the same week? I thought Philip’s was very elegant, but then red roses are my particular favourite. I once studied the Victorian meanings of flowers and, of course, red roses signify sincere and passionate love.’
‘What about blue carnations?’
‘Harriet, blue is not a natural colour for a carnation, so they can’t have any meaning at all. Come along, you need to reply to this note, can’t keep Darren waiting for ever.’
She stared out of the window, twisting the note over and over in her hands until it resembled a corkscrew. I waited again for her to speak, but this time I was more hopeful.
Then she sighed. ‘I know you won’t give me advice, but I think I’ve made up my mind. I think — I think I’ll say no. To everything — going out with him as well as the weekend in Amsterdam.’ She looked imploringly at me. ‘Am I doing the right thing?’
I went up to her and hugged her. ‘Of course you are. I didn’t dare say this while you were still making up your mind, but I’ve been quite depressed about your relationship with Robert Martin. He and I — well, we obviously have such different values, and values are what make people and organisations tick. I was starting to think you weren’t suited to being at Highbury Foods after all.’ I paused. ‘As you know, we don’t want a temp for ever, we were going to advertise the permanent post soon. But why waste money advertising? You’ve just put yourself in the frame for the job. Harriet Smith, PA to the Marketing Director and the Managing Director, imagine that!’
She jumped up and skipped round my room, a broad smile on her face. ‘Ooh, I’d love to work here all the time, temping’s so-o-o hard, all that new stuff to learn every time I go anywhere.’
‘I’ll have to see what Dad thinks, but there shouldn’t be a problem.’ I pulled out a chair for her at my table. ‘Now sit here and reply to that note. Here’s a pen and some paper — Conqueror Vellum, of course, only the best for Highbury Foods.’ I sat down at my PC to check my email.
After a few minutes, I noticed that she’d unscrewed the note and was staring at it. I coughed to attract her attention. ‘Shall I ask Darren to bring a tent and camp overnight? It looks as though it’ll take you that long to answer a few lines.’
She looked up; to my horror, her eyes were full of tears. ‘This is really, really hard,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want to hurt his feelings. And what will his mum say?’
‘It’s always difficult to tell someone the truth, especially if they’ve got an inflated opinion of themselves.’
‘But he’s not like that at all, he’s very shy. That’s why it’s so hard to know what to say.’
So I did the letter for her. At least, I dictated, she wrote; which was how it should be, since she was my PA.
Of course, I didn’t make it too obvious that I was telling her what to say. I made suggestions, trotted out little phrases that I told her could be very effective in these situations. When we’d finished and sealed the letter inside a matching envelope, I summoned Marie to give it to Darren. I wasn’t going to let Harriet take it, in case she had second thoughts.
She went back to her desk and I got down to some work. Half an hour later, I went into her room and found her toying miserably with the unopened post.
I stood in front of her and waited until she looked up.
‘Harriet, we have a crisis,’ I said, in hushed tones. ‘I’m sure Philip printed off ten sets of photos but I can only find nine. I wonder what he’s done with the other set . . . Do you know what I think? I think he’s kept it at home.’
She went bright red.
