The Woman Who Lied(11)
As she walks in now, he looks up, handsome in a black ribbed polo-neck jumper. His dark wavy hair needs cutting and stands on end as if he’s been raking his hands through it. He has his reading glasses on; they make him look like Patrick Dempsey. ‘Thanks, beauty,’ he says, smiling, as she hands him the coffee in his favourite Super Dad cup, which Wilfie had given him for Father’s Day last year. He takes a long gulp and sets it down. It always amazes her that he can drink liquids when they’re still piping hot.
She tells him about her conversation with Hannah and his face lights up. ‘So that’s it. The end of Miranda?’
‘It looks that way. I have no idea what I’m going to write next but I’m excited it will be something different.’
‘At least you’ve got a bit of time off now. When am I allowed to read it?’
‘After I get it back from Hannah. So not yet.’ Anxiety washes over her every time she thinks back to last year and how hard the book had been to write. She pushes the uneasiness away and changes the subject. ‘What are you working on?’ She moves so she’s standing at his shoulder and peers at his computer screens concertinaed in front of him. He puts his arm around her waist. He has three screens set up with different images on each. He’s a brilliant artist, inherited from Trevor, and it’s been passed down to Wilf.
‘Packaging. Which one do you prefer?’
She looks at all three cereal packets, each varying in colours and fonts. ‘This one,’ she says, pointing to the left. ‘I like the orange.’
He gives her waist a little squeeze. ‘That’s my favourite too, although it’ll be up to the client. Now go. I need to get on. Just because you’ve got nothing to do now your book’s in,’ he teases. She bends down to kiss him, then heads back into the house. It feels large and empty: she prefers it when it’s full, like it was on Sunday night, with the kids and in-laws and friends. Her parents’ house was always so quiet. Her father was in the RAF so they moved around a lot, but when she went home to wherever they were living (and it varied from Scotland to Cornwall) they never seemed to have anyone around, no family or cousins, aunts and uncles. Most of the time she’d hated boarding school, the only light being Ottilie, but it was still preferable to being at home with a mother who always seemed disappointed with her lot, and a father who tried to blend in with the furniture.
Emilia grabs her bag. She’s got a few hours before she needs to pick up Wilfie but Jasmine is going to her friend’s house after school and won’t be home until after dinner. She’ll wander into Richmond, have a look around the shops. Wilfie is in need of more school shirts after a recent growth spurt. Even though Elliot is in the garden she locks the front porch for once, remembering Trevor’s words. She wraps her coat around herself and pulls up her hood when she feels light rain.
As she’s making her way down the hill her phone vibrates in her coat pocket. It’s a text from Louise: Still okay for tomorrow night? It’s been ages!
She taps a message back as she’s walking: Can’t wait! Same time and place?
Louise pings back a reply: Yes! Soooo looking forward to seeing you.
Emilia is smiling as she slips the phone back into her pocket. Louise is a few years younger, but as soon as she had sat down next to Emilia, on that first coffee morning, blowing her dark fringe off her heart-shaped face, and joked, ‘Fuck, what a first day! Is it too early for a gin and tonic?’ she’d known she would like her. In her baggy jeans and oversized sweatshirt with a Scottie on the front, she was a breath of fresh air after some of the Breton-wearing mums she had met: they only talked about problems with their nannies, wearing their entitlement like a favourite scarf. She had never fitted in with them, as if they knew she was an imposter despite the accent she had picked up at school.
As soon as Emilia and Louise got talking they realized they were mutually fascinated by each other’s jobs and spent the whole morning ignoring everyone else. Emilia had liked Louise so much she’d suggested they go for a drink, and, over the two years they’ve been friends, they try to meet up for dinner when Louise’s shifts allow, usually once every few months. Emilia had always found it easy to make friends. She tries to be warm, open and sociable (the opposite of her parents), but what had happened with Kristin had shaken her and she is now more wary, preferring to meet up with Louise alone. Even Elliot hasn’t met her, although that’s mainly because, as a single woman, Louise would rather it was just the two of them. Emilia understands that. After she and Jonas had split up she hadn’t wanted to socialize with couples, and Louise’s ex, Mike, sounds like a nightmare who – according to Louise – shirks his childcare responsibilities by loading them onto his overbearing mother.
Emilia is still thinking of Louise when she notices a familiar figure coming out of the little French restaurant just off the green. It’s Jonas, looking dapper in a long camel coat over a business suit. He’s with a very attractive brunette who is at least ten years his junior. She’s wearing a figure-hugging dress and heels so high Emilia is surprised she can walk in them. Emilia stops in the shadow of a shop, her heart speeding up. She’s never bumped into her ex-husband in Richmond before – his office is in Moorgate – but she’s spotted Kristin once or twice and pretended she hadn’t. Now she doesn’t know what to do, how to act.
She can hear the brunette’s laughter, as tinkly and clear as a fork against glass, and watches, mesmerized, as the woman weaves an arm through his and leans in to him. It’s an intimate gesture, and, despite everything, she experiences a pang of pity for Kristin: if this isn’t an affair it’s obviously more than friendship. She watches as they stop at the corner and he leans down to kiss her cheek, then stands back and thrusts his hands into his pockets. The woman laughs again, reaches out and tenderly strokes the side of his face before walking away. Jonas stands for a few seconds staring after her until she’s rounded a corner and is out of sight. Emilia decides to step out of the shadows just as Jonas is crossing the road and, as their eyes meet, she’s satisfied to see a flush spread up his neck to his face.