Page 64 of The Importance of Being Emma
‘I’m not bothered in the slightest,’ Mark said heavily, ‘but you could at least tell me what I’m missing.’
Flynn grinned at him. ‘Sure. I’ll be taking Em out for a meal, no expense spared.’
My heart skipped a beat. I could picture it now — an intimate candlelit dinner, wine and conversation flowing, and a goodnight kiss . . . ‘That sounds wonderful,’ I said. ‘We’d better arrange it soon, before everywhere’s booked up for Christmas.’
Jane got to her feet. ‘I’ve got a migraine coming on. If you don’t mind, I’ll call a taxi and go home.’
Batty gave a little shriek. ‘Oh, poor Jane, wait until I’ve finished my coffee and I’ll come with you—’
‘You stay here, Mary,’ Mark put in. ‘I’m quite happy to take Jane home now and come back for you later.’
While everyone fussed over Jane, I went to the kitchen to make some camomile tea for Dad and me. I’d just put the kettle on and set out the cups and saucers on a tray, when Kate arrived.
‘I’m glad I’ve got you on your own, Emma. I’ve been dying to ask — who does Jane remind you of?’
Several answers sprang to mind, none of them complimentary; I decided to play safe. ‘No idea.’
‘Who’ve we met recently with black hair and really white skin?’
Oh God, she was right; the physical similarity was striking. Why hadn’t I seen it before?
‘Tamara,’ I said, slowly. My hand trembled as I poured the boiling water from the kettle into the teapot. Amazingly, I managed it without scalding myself, although I spilled some on the bench.
Kate was too busy topping up the coffee machine to notice. ‘Exactly. There must be a certain type that appeals to Mark and now he’s falling for Jane hook, line and sinker.’
Jane Fairfax at Donwell Abbey? Over my dead body!
‘What gives you that impression?’ I said, carefully mopping up the water.
‘You can just tell,’ she said vaguely. ‘He’s always made it obvious he likes her, but tonight he seems to have moved things up a gear, suggesting all those lifts to work when it’s so far out of his way.’ She took the empty coffee packet over to the bin. ‘And he couldn’t take his eyes off her when she read out, “Hopelessly devoted to” — oh!’ She paused. ‘Well I never, there’s an empty ratafia box in here. Didn’t Flynn say he’d made those biscuits himself?’
‘I don’t remember,’ I said impatiently. ‘But I think you’re wrong about Mark and Jane. It’s just his style, he’s always helping people out.’
‘You wait and see.’ She closed the bin with a frown. ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Jane takes over where Tamara left off. A man like Mark is never without a woman for long. And don’t forget, Tom and I got together after he gave me a lift home from your dinner party. Maybe she’s asking him in for a nightcap even as we speak—’
I slammed the teapot onto the tray. ‘Never. He couldn’t bear it — if he got into any sort of relationship with Saint Jane, he’d have Batty haunting Donwell day and night, and probably Old Mother Bates as well!’
She laughed. ‘I imagine he’d put up with an awful lot for the right woman.’
‘Huh, with her he’d bloody well have to.’
I marched into the hall with the tray and bumped straight into Flynn.
‘Wondered where you were,’ he said, putting his hands on my shoulders to steady me. ‘Thought you might have gone home with a migraine too, but I betyoudon’t give up that easily . . . Did you like the fortune cookie I gave Jane?’
I smiled up at him. ‘A lot more than she did, by the look of it. She knew you were getting at her and Dan, didn’t she? And did you see how red she went when I asked her what she sang at his wedding?’
Before he could answer, Batty poked her head round the living room door. ‘Ah, there you are, Emma.’ She sidled up to us. ‘Your father’s asking for his tea and I wouldn’t mind a cup as well, we’re just moving from the table to some more comfortable seats.’
‘Allow me.’ Flynn took the tray and dodged past her into the living room.
I made to follow him, but the blasted woman clung to my arm like a limpet.
‘It is camomile, isn’t it, dear? You’re father swears by it for getting to sleep and I could do with a decent night . . . So much to think about at the moment, what with—’
‘Your car,’ I said hurriedly, before she repeated the whole saga. ‘Yes, it must be a terrible worry.’
She gave a noisy sigh. ‘It’s not just my own worries, I found poor Sandy Perry in tears when I called this morning with a tiny present for . . . You’ll never guess what that son of hers has been up to, when I think of how he sang in the church choir for all those years, like a little angel . . . And apparently, if he does it once more he’ll be expelled from King Edward’s. David’s furious and of course Sandy’s torn between the two of them,sucha shame, isn’t it? Anyway, David wants it all hushed up, he is a doctor after all, you’d think he’d know if his son was up tothatsort of thing . . . So don’t breathe a word to anyone — mind, I was so upset that I had to tell Jane, but she’s the soul of discretion.’
