The Woman Who Lied(30)
‘I am, actually.’ Even though my stalker might be in this very room, she thinks, but doesn’t voice it to Jonas. She hasn’t told him any of it yet and she certainly doesn’t want to get into it here.
‘You sound surprised.’
‘You know this isn’t my type of thing.’
He smiles sympathetically. ‘I do but, Em, this is such an achievement. I’m proud of you, I hope you know that. I remember how much you wanted this. How you talked about your dream of being a novelist. And you made it happen.’ His eyes lock with hers and the room seems to shrink a little as she’s taken back to when they first met, to how she’d felt about him. To when things were good.
She lowers her eyes. ‘Thanks, Jonas. That means a lot.’
They smile shyly at each other, as Ottilie wanders over to them ‘Long time no see,’ she says to Jonas.
‘Hi, Ottilie.’ He twists his glass between his fingers.
Emilia immediately tenses, remembering that she’d told Ottilie about Jonas’s flirtation with his co-worker. Please don’t say anything, she silently wills.
‘So, how’s things going, Boner?’ Ottilie asks.
Emilia winces at her old nickname for him. Jonas’s blue eyes widen a little but he ignores the jibe. ‘All good. You?’
‘Nice of you and your wife to come tonight.’ She opens her mouth to say more but Emilia throws her a warning look and she shuts it again. Her heart sinks when Kristin decides this is the moment to join them.
‘All the old gang together again,’ Ottilie says acidly.
‘Lovely to see you.’ Kristin’s smile is warm, needy almost, and Emilia can’t forget what Ottilie told her about the phone call.
Ottilie doesn’t respond, just sips her drink.
Kristin clears her throat and Emilia can see that she’s nervous. ‘I wanted to say sorry about the other night,’ she begins. She turns her attention to Emilia. ‘I rang Ottilie. It was a stupid, drunken thing to do. I just wanted some advice about interior design and … well … I – I’m sure she’s told you.’
‘She has,’ says Emilia, trying to inject coolness into her tone. It doesn’t work. She’s rubbish at confrontation. Another reason why she loves writing fiction: she can be bold and daring on the page in a way she never can in real life.
‘I’m sorry,’ Kristin says to Emilia. And Emilia wonders what she’s saying sorry for: the phone call to Ottilie, or what she did more than a decade ago. She doesn’t have much time to wonder as, before she can respond, Ava appears and whisks her away to introduce her to a journalist.
The next hour is a whirlwind of speeches, industry talk, and catching up with some author friends. She can’t see Kristin anywhere and wonders if she’s gone home. She hopes Ottilie hasn’t said anything controversial to either of them.
She’s just about to go and speak to Marcie when her eye catches something at the window. A face is pressed to the glass, features distorted by the lights and condensation. Her heart is in her throat. It’s her stalker, she knows it is. She pushes her way desperately through the throng, but it takes her a good five minutes to get to the door as she tries to extract herself from first Marcie and then Hannah.
When she finally reaches the entrance it’s with a sinking feeling, knowing that whoever was there has probably gone. Or, even worse, slipped inside and is somewhere in the crowd. She wrenches the door open, letting in a blast of cold night air. The light from the shop casts a rectangular amber shimmer onto the wet pavement, illuminating two people having what sounds like a heated discussion. They fall silent when they notice Emilia, and the taller of the two, a woman in a skimpy dress, tilts the umbrella away from her face, and Emilia is surprised to see that it’s Kristin. She has a cigarette in her hand. She thought she’d given up a long time ago. The other figure turns to face her. It’s Louise.
‘Lou. You came. Is …’ she glances from her to Kristin ‘… is everything okay?’ She steps onto the pavement.
Kristin blows out a puff of smoke. ‘Sorry, it was hot in there so I came out for a ciggie and bumped into your friend.’
Louise looks uneasy and shifts from foot to foot. She has her mobile in her hand and is wearing a long raincoat with the hood up. Was it her face she’d noticed in the window?
‘I’m so glad you could make it. Come in,’ she says to Louise.
‘I’m so sorry, I was just about to but I’ve noticed a text.’ She holds up her phone. ‘I’ve been called in to work.’
‘Oh, no, that’s such a shame. Elliot would love to meet you.’
‘So sorry. I’ve got to dash. But …’ She pushes her hood back, not caring that her hair is getting wet. She looks concerned.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s just … when I arrived, before Kristin came out –’
‘She apparently saw someone,’ Kristin butts in, dropping her cigarette and grinding it into the pavement with her heel. ‘A lurker.’ She shrugs, unconcerned. ‘Anyway, he’s gone now. I’m going back in – it’s freezing. Nice to meet you, Louise.’
Louise doesn’t say anything, and they watch as Kristin folds down her umbrella and pulls open the door, releasing a waft of laughter and the smell of salted peanuts. It closes softly behind her, leaving the street silent.