The Importance of Being Emma (5 page)

Then, as I rifled through my briefcase for my non-executive director contract, I found her photo.

I don’t know why I didn’t hand the magazine back to Mary and have done with it. Maybe I thought the article might come in handy for the mentoring. But why didn’t I file it with my Highbury Foods papers? Instead, I found myself tearing it out, taking it home and looking at it far more than was good for me.

The next day Father and I went to Donwell Organics for a detailed handover. I knew standing in as Managing Director would be a sharp contrast to my role in India. Out there I had a free rein, because Father believed in empowerment rather than a more traditional command and control approach; here, it was more a case of maintaining the status quo until his return.

We’d reckoned without my stepmother Saffron, however; she was like her name – brightly coloured, horribly expensive and best in small doses. Her first phone call came at five past nine and I was privileged to hear every word, despite Father holding his mobile close to his ear. She was afraid four days wouldn’t be enough for her to do the packing, so could he take a few hours off to help? Father declined as gracefully as he could and we got about ten minutes’ work done before she rang again. She’d been thinking (always a worrying sign) – was it really necessary to put Tao (her shih-tzu) into kennels? Couldn’t I look after him, with help from Mrs Burn who’d still be coming to cook and clean most days? Father told her it was out of the question. I was coming from a culture where people fed their dogs curried leftovers; far safer for Tao to live on sirloin steak at the Glen Beagles Hotel for Discerning Dogs. At this point, he switched off his mobile and suggested we went out for a coffee.

‘
Thanks, that was a lucky escape,’ I said, as we drove off in his Mercedes.

‘
More than you’ll ever know. I had to dog sit when Saffron had her last facelift, I spent the whole time running Tao around. Grooming salon, vet’s surgery, social engagements with its little furry friends, it was like having another woman in the house.’ He grimaced. ‘For God’s sake, Mark, be careful who you marry. Not that I’ve any regrets,’ he added quickly, ‘although I couldn’t have chosen anyone less like your mother.’

‘
No,’ I said, thinking of the tall, dignified woman who had died of a heart attack eight and a half years ago. Saffron had appeared on the scene almost immediately, when my father was in no state to resist, and his wallet had suffered the consequences ever since.

The coffee turned into a working lunch that lasted all afternoon. By the time evening came, I decided I would walk to Hartfield for some exercise. As I made my way along the bridle path, dusk was falling, cool and damp, a refreshing change from the intense heat of India.

Emma answered the door in faded jeans and a T-shirt, her face bare of make-up. At first glance she looked more like Mouse, thank God.

I handed her a bottle of Château Cheval Blanc. ‘I’m assuming Henry still drinks claret – for medicinal purposes only, of course.’

‘
Of course,’ she said, with a giggle, ‘and this one’s still his favourite, thank you. Let me take your jacket, you won’t need it. Dad wanted a fire in case you felt cold and the room’s so hot I’ve had to change my clothes.’

I looked again; her T-shirt was low-cut, her jeans tight-fitting. I followed her across the hall, my gaze riveted to the easy swing of her hips.

At the entrance to the dining room, I paused. It was just as I remembered – large, square and elegantly furnished with Italian pieces from Sophia’s childhood home and vibrant oil paintings of her beloved Tuscany. The curtains were already drawn, the lamps lit, one end of the long rectangular table set for three. Then, as I went in, a wall of heat hit me from what appeared to be a small inferno in the grate. There were three assorted armchairs round it, with a bookcase, CD player and card table nearby; all the signs of a man reluctant to move from his own fireside, literally.

Henry was hibernating in the largest chair, a rug tucked round his knees. He stirred at my approach and smiled sleepily. ‘Come and sit here, Mark, you must be chilled through just walking from the car. I did the same earlier and now my arthritis is playing up terribly.’

Emma and I sat down on either side of him and immediately edged our chairs further from the fire.

‘
Actually,’ I said, ‘I didn’t bring the car, I walked.’

His jaw dropped. ‘At this time of year? Your clothes will be wet through, you’ll catch your death. Darling, pop upstairs and bring Mark one of my flannelette shirts and those baggy fawn cords, they
might
fit him. If not – ’

I laughed. ‘Henry, I’m fine, I enjoyed the fresh air and my clothes are perfectly dry. Look at my shoes, not a speck of mud on them.’

‘
But how will you get home? Darling, order a taxi for Mark, shall we say about ten o’clock?’

‘
That’s kind of you, Henry, but I’ll walk back. Along the road, of course, the bridle path will be pitch black.’

Emma, who had stayed seated despite Henry’s instructions, said briskly, ‘I’ll give you a lift.’

I shuddered. ‘No thanks, I’ve heard all about your driving from John.’

Henry gave me a reproachful look. ‘Emma’s a wonderful driver, your brother doesn’t know what he’s talking about – ’

Emma hastily held up the claret. ‘Look what Mark’s brought you, Dad.’

‘
Thank you, so thoughtful.’ He beamed at me, then turned to Emma. ‘Shall we drink it tonight, or have you already opened something?’

‘
I have, but I’m sure we can manage more than one bottle. After all, it’s a celebration, our first meal together in years.’

‘
Not for lack of trying on my part,’ I said. ‘But whenever I was back in England, you were away.’

Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘Pure coincidence, nothing personal. And now I can’t avoid you even if I wanted to, because you’re mentoring me. Oh joy.’

‘
Just like old times, Big Brother looking over your shoulder.’

She got up rather abruptly and walked towards the door with the wine.

‘
You must notice a big difference in Emma since you last saw her,’ Henry said, gazing after her.

I watched her stop by a glass-fronted cabinet, put the wine down and start to re-arrange the figurines inside.

‘
Yes.’ I paused. ‘And no.’

‘
She’s changed physically, filled out here and there, acquired a bit of sophistication. But when I look at her I see the same old Emma, and I suppose I always will.’

Across the room, Emma slammed the cabinet door shut, snatched up the wine and hurried out; leaving me to reflect that, when necessary, I could be a bloody good liar.

~~EMMA~~

‘
Filled out here and there … acquired a bit of sophistication … but still the same old Emma’?

I kicked open the kitchen door. It was going to be an uphill battle to get him to treat me like an adult. At least he’d stopped short of calling me his little sister. If he had, I swear I would have inserted the Château Cheval bloody Blanc somewhere about his person, without an anaesthetic.

Mark Knightley had a reputation for being fair and honest, but always diplomatic. Except when it came to me. It was as if he judged me by different standards from everyone else, the lowest being perfection and the highest something beyond sainthood.

Several deep breaths later, I returned to the dining room with the decanted wine and three glasses.

As I sat down, Mark gave me one of his calculating looks. ‘I was about to come and see if you needed a hand.’

‘
I think I can manage to open a bottle of wine, not much call for mentoring there. Dad, would you like a little of this before dinner?’

‘
I shouldn’t, but I will.’ He watched me like a hawk as I poured him an eggcupful. ‘That’s far too much for me, darling. Never mind, as you said, it’s a celebration.’ He raised his glass. ‘Your health!’

‘
And especially yours, Henry,’ Mark said, gravely. He turned to me. ‘Here’s to our new relationship. I mean, of course, the mentoring.’

I forced a smile. ‘Cheers.’

Dad sipped his wine. ‘I hope you change your mind about going back to India, Mark. Dreadful-sounding place, you’re lucky to have got out alive. I trust you’re going to have a full medical check-up, in case you’ve picked up any nasty diseases?’

‘
I’m fit as a fiddle, Henry. India’s like anywhere, do as the locals do and you won’t go far wrong.’

‘
But you are going back?’ I said, trying to keep the eagerness out of my voice.

‘
That’s the plan. Unless, after a life of leisure for six months, Father decides to retire and asks me to take over permanently. But I can’t see that happening.’

Dad shook his head. ‘Neither can I. George is like me, wants to keep his hand in. Of course, Emma will take over from me one day, but not until she’s got a lot more experience.’

‘
How have your first couple of days gone, Emma?’ Mark asked.

‘
Fine,’ I said, refilling Dad’s glass despite his feeble protests. ‘Harriet’s settling in nicely. And I think I’ve found my next matchmaking assignment.’

‘
Please, darling, not again.’ Dad put his hand on my arm. ‘Whenever you make a prediction about people, it comes true. Look at poor Kate.’

I laughed. ‘I know. My first attempt at matchmaking was a complete success.’

‘
Success?’ Mark leaned forward in his chair and gave me a disapproving look. ‘Rubbish. Success implies a plan, and some effort. Knowing you, you made a lucky guess then sat back and did nothing.’

This from the expert, the man whose idea of a fulfilling relationship was dragging each other along to functions! ‘Everyone knows that guesses need skill as much as luck,’ I said through clenched teeth. ‘And no, I didn’t have a plan exactly, but I didn’t sit back and do nothing either, the truth’s somewhere in between.’ I smiled as I recalled how easy it had been. ‘I got things rolling as soon as Tom came out of the Merchant Navy and settled back in Highbury. I invited him and Kate to dinner, with a few other people as well, so that it wasn’t too obvious, then made sure he gave her a lift home. After that, it was just a matter of prodding them along. When I was in the States I couldn’t do much, of course, but by then it was cut and dried.’

‘
You should have left well alone, people are quite capable of choosing their partners without any help from you.’ Another disapproving look.

Dad pounced on Mark’s last few words. ‘That’s just like Emma, always helping others, never thinking of herself. But matchmaking’s such a risky business! Giving romantic notions to a man and a woman who’ve probably never thought of each other that way before – it’s no wonder so many couples break up. Save yourself the trouble, darling, you’ll only be disappointed.’

‘
You worry too much, Dad,’ I said gently. ‘And I hope you’re not suggesting that Kate and Tom will break up, because actually they’re better suited than most couples. Just look at Izzy and John – ’ I stopped, remembering who I was with.

‘
Maybe Kate and Tom seem better suited because they’re much older – and wiser – than Izzy and John,’ Mark said drily.

Dad frowned. ‘I can’t agree with you there, Isabella’s so sensible and a marvellous wife and mother, although John can be rather – ’

‘
Anyway,’ I put in, getting up to check that I’d finished setting the table, ‘it’s too late, my next assignment’s well underway.’

Mark drained his glass. ‘The time to really worry, Henry, is when Emma starts matchmaking for herself.’

‘
I’d rather die,’ I said, with a dismissive laugh. ‘As far as I’m concerned men can stay on Mars, or wherever it is they come from, at least for the moment.’

‘
So do enlighten us, who’s your next victim?’

Victim? He made me sound like a black widow spider. I straightened the place mats and braced myself for criticism. ‘Philip Elton.’

‘
Elton? You must be joking.’

‘
I am not, he’s the ideal candidate.’ I ticked off the reasons on my fingers. ‘He’s in his prime, can’t be any older than thirty … Handsome, not my type of course … Good career prospects, I mean with another company, he’s already got as far as he can at Highbury Foods … And he’s just bought a house, he says he spends every weekend in Ikea. That’s a Swedish furniture chain, in case you don’t know. I remember doing a case study on them for my MBA, although I’ve never been in any of their shops. Poor Philip, he seems to have everything, but have you noticed how lonely he looks? He’s got such big mournful brown eyes, just like Dr Perry’s labrador when he thinks you’ve come to the surgery to take him for a walk.’ I smiled as I re-folded the napkins. ‘Yes, when I find the right woman for him, I guarantee she’ll be sharing his little Ikea show home in a matter of weeks, or even days.’

Dad looked at me in utter dismay. ‘But there’s no need to go that far, if it’s company he wants then Mark or I could help. You’ll be seeing some of your old friends while you’re here, won’t you, Mark?’

‘
I’m not sure Philip’ll fit in with my crowd,’ Mark said, ‘but I don’t mind having the odd drink with him.’

Dad’s eyes lit up. ‘I’ll find out if he plays bridge. You know, we still play every Thursday, Mark. That’s myself, Frank Clarke, Mary and her mother. But Frank had a triple heart bypass last year and some weeks he doesn’t feel up to going out, so I could invite Philip instead. Or would you be interested?’