The Woman Who Lied(29)

‘Don’t let this ruin your night –’ He stops mid-flow as Kristin and Jonas walk in arm in arm and head straight for where Pam, the bookshop owner, is handing out drinks.

‘Be nice,’ Emilia warns her husband.

‘When am I ever not nice?’ He grins.

Emilia surveys the room. Despite the wet weather it’s warm in the shop, and people are packed quite closely together. The hum of a dozen conversations wafts over to her. ‘I was hoping Louise was here so I could introduce you. I hope she can make it. Shit. Look who’s just arrived.’

Elliot’s eyes are round as he follows her gaze. Her parents have just walked in. Her mother is in a heavy shearling coat, darkened at the shoulders by the rain, and her father is stiff and soldier-like in his Barbour and tweed cap. She can’t believe they’ve ventured here in this weather. They stand at the door, looking bewildered, and Elliot steps forwards to go over to them, then stops when he sees they’ve been intercepted by Jonas.

He turns to Emilia with an air of disappointment. She made the mistake once of telling him how much her mum had loved Jonas, and she knows he worries that he’s not as close to them. But it’s hard to be close to her parents. ‘I’ll check on Wilfie,’ says Elliot. ‘Go and mingle. This is your launch.’

She watches him weave his way through the crowd to where their son is sitting in the children’s area of the bookshop. Jasmine and Nancy are giggling together, huddled on the yolk-yellow sofa, both peering at Jasmine’s phone. Emilia smiles to herself, remembering Ottilie and herself at that age. She’s glad Elliot is keeping an eye on them all. She still can’t shake the feeling that the person behind everything that has happened to her lately could be in this room or, at the very least, watching her from outside.

She heads towards her parents and Jonas, wondering where Kristin has gone.

Her father steps forwards when he sees her, his eyes bright. ‘Hello, love.’

‘Darling,’ her mother says, air-kissing her. ‘This is a great turnout.’

‘Thank you so much for coming,’ Emilia says. She hasn’t seen them since Christmas.

‘I loved the book,’ says her father, in his quiet voice. ‘I read it in hardback.’

‘He bought it,’ says her mother, ‘despite the price. I told him he shouldn’t have to pay for it, considering his daughter had written it. I hope we get an early copy of the next one.’

Jonas turns to her for the first time and raises an eyebrow. She tries not to smile. ‘I’m sure that can be arranged,’ she says.

‘You do know what she’s doing in the next one, don’t you?’ says Jonas. ‘She’s killing off Miranda Moody!’

Her father gasps. ‘You’re not!’

‘Jonas,’ hisses Emilia, ‘don’t ruin it.’

Jonas’s hand flies to his mouth. ‘Sorry.’

Her mother shuffles out of her coat and folds it over her arm. ‘Well, I’ve never read them. I don’t like crime novels. Enough depressing stuff in the news as it is. I don’t know why you can’t write something a bit more uplifting, darling. Something funny.’

‘Maybe because Em doesn’t have a sense of humour,’ Jonas quips, and she digs him in the side with her elbow.

‘I must have had one to marry you,’ she retaliates.

‘Ouch.’ He laughs, a lock of blond hair falling over his eye.

Her mother purses her lips in disapproval at their easy manner, as though she’d rather they were fighting and sniping at each other. ‘Where’s your current wife, Jonas?’ she asks icily, like he’s been married a dozen times.

Jonas inclines his head to where Kristin is talking to Marcie. They are very close to where Ottilie is chatting up Rob, and she notices Kristin glancing at her every now and again. Emilia wonders if she will try to talk to Ottilie.

She turns her attention back to her parents and Jonas. ‘Your grandkids are at the back of the shop with Elliot if you want to say hi.’ It annoys her how hands-off they are as grandparents. They hardly ever ask after Wilfie and Jasmine.

‘Of course we do. Come on, Hugh,’ her mother says, grabbing her dad’s arm and leading him through the throng.

Emilia exhales in relief when they’ve gone.

‘Same as ever,’ laughs Jonas. ‘I’m surprised they spoke to me.’

‘They were fond of you. You could always make my mum laugh.’

‘Not any more,’ he says. He digs his hands into the pockets of his wool blazer. ‘Elliot is avoiding me too, I see.’

‘He finds it hard. It’s awkward.’

‘The only people who should feel awkward are us, and we don’t, do we? It’s all water under the bridge.’

That’s the problem with her ex. He just wants everything to be brushed under the carpet, for there to be no consequences to his behaviour. That everyone just forgets and moves on. But some people’s memories are long, and her mother loves to hold on to a grudge. She needs little reason to dislike someone. ‘You know what my mum’s like. She loves any excuse to feel aggrieved. She was gutted when we split up. You were the son she never had.’

His cheeks redden and he sips his prosecco. ‘Anyway, most importantly, are you having a good night?’