Page 62 of The Importance of Being Emma
Mary said hesitantly, ‘I don’t suppose there’s a spare company car? Of course, I need an automatic, I never learned to drive a manual . . . Just a thought, Henry.’
‘I’ll have a word with Terry,’ Henry said doubtfully, ‘but I don’t think we’ve got many automatics. Have you looked into hiring something?’
She coloured. ‘Of course, but you see it’s a lot of money and Mother’s got a little problem with her . . . So she may need tohave an operation privately, there’s such a long waiting list with the National Health . . . Never mind,’ she added, with a sigh, ‘I’m sure Jack Thomas will do me a special price for a taxi there and back each day, and we always havesucha nice chat.’
Once again, Churchill whispered something to make Emma laugh.
It was time to bring this particular subject to a close. ‘I’ll give you and Jane a lift to work and back,’ I said firmly, ‘for as long as you need.’
She gave a squeal, half delight, half dismay. ‘But it’s too much out of your way and—’
‘No “buts”. I’ll be outside your house at half past eight on Monday morning.’
Her relief was evident. ‘Thank you, Mark. Always so kind, just like your father.’
It was over coffee that I really detected Churchill’s Machiavellian tendencies at work. He presented each of us with what he called his ‘special fortune cookie’, a small biscuit wrapped in a piece of tissue-like paper, and instructed us not to open it until we were told.
‘Dad and Kate first, I think,’ he said. ‘And read them out, please. There’s a common theme and I’ve got a prize for the person who guesses what it is.’
Tom opened his little parcel, wolfed down the biscuit and chuckled to himself as he read the piece of paper. ‘This is an old one, Flynn, I’m surprised you’ve heard of it. Listen, everyone: “Blue moon, you saw me standing alone, without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own.” What’s yours, Kate?’
Kate laughed. ‘Same song, but a different line: “And then suddenly appeared before me, the only one my arms could ever hold.” I can even quote the rest: “I heard somebody whisper, ‘Please adore me’, and when I looked the moon had turnedto gold.” One of my all-time favourites.’ She smiled warmly at Flynn. ‘You can’t possibly have known that, though.’
Churchill grinned back. ‘You’re right, I didn’t. I chose it because it reminded me of you two.’
‘Lovely thought,’ Kate said.
‘Much appreciated, son,’ Tom added.
I hadn’t heard ‘Blue Moon’ for years and the lyrics brought me up short. I glanced at Emma, willing her to look in my direction, but she was gazing affectionately at Tom and Kate. Not at Churchill, thank God; at least, not yet.
‘Jane, you’re next.’
At Churchill’s command, Jane started and went pink. ‘Do I have to?’
For once, she seemed uncomfortable in the spotlight; I stared at her, wondered what was going on behind those dark expressionless eyes.
‘I forgot to mention that there’s a forfeit,’ Churchill said briskly. ‘Anyone who objects has to perform the song, not just say the words. So be warned.’
‘Jane’s got a wonderful voice,’ Mary put in. ‘People are always asking her to . . . Who was that man, Jane, who begged you to sing at his wedding? Oh, silly me! It was Charlotte’s husband, wasn’t it, Dan Thingummy-Bob.’
Emma leaned forward. ‘What did you sing for Dan — and Charlotte, of course?’ Her sudden interest made me suspicious; was she winding Jane up about something?
Jane went an even deeper shade of pink. ‘It was “The Power of Love”.’
Emma smirked. ‘Ah yes, “’Cause I am your lady and you are my man, whenever you reach for me I’ll do all that I can” — is that the one?’
‘I believe so.’
‘Come on,’ Churchill said, ‘read out your fortune cookie before I give you a forfeit.’
Jane hesitated, then slowly unfolded her piece of paper. ‘It says “I’m hopelessly devoted to” followed by a question mark.’ She added coldly, ‘I’ve no idea what it means.’
‘Haven’t you?’ Churchill countered. ‘I’ll move on to Emma, then.’
I watched Emma closely as she unwrapped her biscuit and read her words in silence. A slow, sweet smile spread across her face, and my heart sank. ‘Mine says “You’re the one that I want”.’ She looked at Churchill. ‘I think I know what the common theme is now, but I’m not a hundred percent sure, so I’d better wait.’ She giggled, then took a small bite out of her biscuit and closed her eyes. ‘Mmmm, ratafia — absolutely delicious. Did you make these yourself?’
‘Of course,’ Churchill said smoothly. ‘Your turn, Mary.’
