Page 98 of The Importance of Being Emma
‘Not a B to be seen.’ I smiled and gently moved the rack back to its place. ‘But you could make—’
‘Time’s up, you’ll have to just leave it at BAY,’ Emma put in — rather sharply, I thought. ‘That’s eight points. Your turn, Flynn.’
Churchill immediately went to a different part of the board and laid down five tiles with a triumphant smirk. I noticed Jane glaring at him. Oh yes, definitely something going on there . . .
Harriet peered at the word he’d made. ‘What’s a COCKU? And why’s it got a blank at the end?’
‘It’s meant to be a P,’ Churchill said.
She squealed, right in my ear. ‘COCK-UP, that’s a bit rude, innit? I didn’t know you could have things like that in Scrabble.’
‘It’s perfectly all right, Harriet, you’ll find it in any dictionary.’ Churchill gave a wolfish grin. ‘You know, meaning “blunder” or “mistake”.’
Then Jane said tersely, ‘But it has a hyphen, so it’s not allowed.’
Churchill threw up his hands in mock horror. ‘Oh, I declare, Miss Fairfax,’ he said, with an affected Texan drawl, ‘you’re so cruel, can’t you show some mercy for once?’
Tom had been leafing through the Oxford English Dictionary on the table beside him. Now he looked up and clicked his tongue in commiseration. ‘Bad luck, Flynn, Jane’s right.’
‘Sod it, I’ll just have to leave it at COCK. Does that satisfy you, Jane?’
Jane flushed. ‘How I feel is irrelevant, you need to learn the rules of the game.’
‘Bring on the cane, Jane, and I’ll take my punishment like a man.’ He nudged Emma, who was sitting next to him. ‘Now it’s your turn, my lovely.’ He mouthed something in her ear and made her giggle, as usual.
‘I know you like whispering sweet nothings to Emma,’ Tom said good-humouredly, ‘but I’m sure she doesn’t need your help. She’s a Scrabble expert, always beats me by miles.’
Churchill ignored his father and mumbled in Emma’s ear again. She was almost helpless with laughter, but managed to gasp, ‘I can’t.’
He raised one eyebrow. ‘Oh? I always thought you were the adventurous sort, likeDanDare.’
She glanced furtively across at Jane. ‘Shh, you are awful. Anyway, proper names aren’t allowed.’
He gave a petulant sigh. ‘If you won’t do it, I will.’ With a flourish, he placed four of her tiles on the board in front of an N. ‘There, triple word score, thirty-nine points.’
It was DIXON; the word meant nothing to me, but once again Jane went red.
This time, Kate intervened. ‘Come along, Flynn, no proper names. And share the joke with everyone, please, not just Emma.’
‘Sorry, Kate, the joke’s strictly private and confidential,’ he said breezily. ‘Oh well, Em, you’ll just have to think of an alternative. Can you manage as many as five letters, or will you be a safe, boring and unimaginative three?’
This was a not-so-subtle dig at my previous effort and I noticed Emma blush as she set out the word VIXEN. Not blind toallhis faults, then. At least, not yet.
I resolved to go home as soon as this round was over; until then, I remained on my guard for any more clandestine interaction between Jane and Churchill. Their behaviour reminded me of Emma’s and mine; so little said, so much left unspoken — like an iceberg, where only the tip is visible to the unwary traveller. No one else seemed to have noticed anything, however, especially Emma. God, she was so trusting! But I would keep my eyes and ears open until I returned to India; from then on, I’d ask John to do the same.
If I ever found out that Churchill was cheating on her, with Jane Fairfax or anyone else, I would kill him with my bare hands.
* * *
~~EMMA~~
I was relieved Mark hadn’t given me a New Year’s kiss. The touch of his fingers was disturbing enough . . . Yes, it was definitely relief I felt, not disappointment. I reserved that for Harriet, who didn’t seem to be making much progress with Flynn. Their kiss at midnight was nothing more than a peck, but then it must be rather inhibiting trying to get off with each other in front of people like Dad and Batty. Afterwards, when we were playing Scrabble, no wonder the poor girl was all over Mark in a blatant attempt to make Flynn jealous — which only succeeded in making him flirt with me.
I couldn’t help noticing that Mark got very little in the way of loving from Jane. Maybe she’d put her foot down about displays of passion in public. What a waste of the man’s talents! He really needed someone to take him somewhere more private for a few minutes and welcome in the New Year with a complete lack of respectability . . .
With an effort, I dragged my thoughts back to Scrabble just in time to hear Harriet babbling something about making a baby with Mark. Shit, calling at Randalls was turning into a really, really bad idea. By the time it was my turn, I was thinking — how could a game of Scrabble be so surreal? We’d already had ‘breed’, ‘baby’ and ‘cock’; goodness knows what would come out next, it was just as well Dad had gone home.
When Flynn whispered in my ear, ‘Try DIXON, go on, see what she says’, I couldn’t stop myself from bursting into hysterical laughter. Even though I refused, he went ahead and put the letters down. I felt like shouting out, ‘It’s the name of Jane’s married lover, she’s not so perfect after all!’ I didn’t, of course, but I did wonder if Mark had any suspicions about her. In spite of everything, I didn’t want him to get hurt.
