Page 54 of The Importance of Being Emma
And then she was gone.
Henry’s eyes gleamed. ‘System? Have you got indigestion — or food poisoning perhaps? Let’s go through to the kitchen, I’m sure I can find something to—’
‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ I said sharply, and his face fell. I pulled myself together with an effort. ‘Sorry, Henry. You were right, I’m not feeling my best, but it’s nothing to worry about. I’ll be along in the morning to see Emma. Around nine, probably, if she’ll be up by then on a Saturday?’
‘Oh yes, Emma’s an early riser these days, even at weekends.’
My mind was in turmoil as I said goodnight and let myself out. I drove the short distance home on autopilot, thinking only of her. She certainly hadn’t pushed me away when I’d kissed her; no, she’d kissed me back, over and over again. God knows, if Henry hadn’t interrupted us, we might easily have . . .
It was probably for the best. When we made love — and I knew now that it was a question of when, not if — I needed her to understand that I wasn’t in this for a cheap thrill. I wanted to be with her for ever.
But how on earth could she think she was just a substitute for Tamara? That would be the first thing I’d clear up when I saw her the next day. Except — why wait? I reached for my phone and tried her mobile.
It was switched off.
I let out a long uneven sigh. It looked as though I’d have to be patient for a little longer.
* * *
~~EMMA~~
Up in bed I tossed and turned, wondering how to deal with Mark.
I didn’t dwell on why he’d kissed me. I knew it was because he missed Tamara, whatever he said about moving on. And I didn’t dwell on why I’d kissed him back. He was a fantastic kisser, might as well enjoy it.
But what would happen now? Would we ever return to some sort of normality? We had to — I couldn’t imagine him not being part of my life.
And then I started thinking . . . If Dad hadn’t interrupted us, would we have got carried away and, well, slept together? Not at Hartfield, of course; Mark would have taken me to Donwell Abbey, where we’d be completely alone all night long . . .
A disturbing thought, and one that I returned to time and again. I even composed the little note I would have left for Dad:
Gone to Donwell with Mark — temporarily taking over Tamara’s bedroom duties.
New packet of porridge is behind fennel tea in pantry.
Love, Emma
P.S. Don’t worry, have got Health & Safety covered. We’re calling at Open All Hours — which means by the time you read this the whole of Highbury will know we’ve spent the night together.
All pointless bloody speculation. It hadn’t happened, and I’d make sure it was never likely to.
Chapter Seven
~~EMMA~~
After only a few hours’ sleep I got up, anxious to prepare myself for Mark’s visit. Because he would come to sort things out, I knew. In the kitchen I made bread and imagined how it would go. It was possible, of course, that he’d simply take me in his arms and tell me he loved me with a passion he’d never felt for Tamara or anyone else. Possible, but impossible.
I pummelled the dough as I rehearsed far more likely scenarios.
There was the contrite Mark: ‘I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that. Can you ever forgive me, dear sweet little Emma?’
The angry Mark: ‘Why the hell didn’t you stop me making such a complete fool of myself?’
The philosophical Mark: ‘These things happen, even between friends. Remember that film,When Harry Met Sally? We’re not like them, though. Let’s just gloss over it and carry on as before.’
There was even a version that had him down on his knees, begging: ‘Surely you understand a man’s needs, especially after a woman like Tamara? If you’re interested, why don’t we come to a little arrangement while I’m over here? Sex without any strings, so to speak.’ At this point, naturally, I would take great pleasure in slapping his face.
When the doorbell rang just after half past nine, I was ready to give him whichever piece of my mind suited his mood.
