Free Emma by Rosie Clarke

I’d asked Mrs Henty for the costume. It wouldn’t have been warm enough for a summer dress.
    For some time the roads were almost deserted except for the occasional farm cart, a delivery van or one of the buses that ran between the various small towns and villages. The fields on either side were low-lying, the earth often black fen soil, rich and fertile. It was only when we turned off the country roads and headed towards Cambridge that we started to meet more cars and lorries.
    ‘We’ll soon be there.’ Paul smiled at me. ‘It’s a surprise, Emma. I didn’t think you would really want to go to a concert. We can find something better to do than that, can’t we?’
    He was turning off the main road as he spoke, though we were still some distance from the town itself, in a quiet road with several rather nice-looking houses in large gardens. Paul manoeuvred the car into a gateway flanked by red brick pillars and drove down a long, tree-lined drive.
    ‘Are we going to your house?’
    ‘Yes. We can listen to as much music as you like there. My parents have a large collection of classical, opera and dance records. We’ll put the gramophone on. You can tell your father you’ve been listening to Mozart and Bach. You won’t have to tell any lies.’
    My heart started to beat very fast. I’d thought we would go to the concert before having tea with his parents. Now it seemed we would be with them all afternoon.
    I looked out of the window. We passed a tennis court and what looked as if it might once have been a stable block, though it was not tumbling into disrepair. Beyond the stables I could see the roof of what seemed to be an extremely large building. As the car swept round the corner of the stable block I saw wide lawns, a grey stone terrace with roses growing over the low walls – and the house itself.
    ‘Oh, Paul!’ I gasped. ‘It’s huge.’
    ‘Not really, there are much larger houses than this, believe me. Don’t be overly impressed. We only use one wing. The rest of the place is falling down. One of these days we shall have to pull the whole thing down in the interests of safety.’
    I was shocked. I had never seen a house like it, except in magazines or books. It appeared to be built in three sections, with a central block and two wings, and I thought it must be very old. I hadn’t expected anything this grand, though as I got out of the car I could see what Paul meant. Parts of the roof had gaping holes and the walls looked as if they might be crumbling away in one wing. Even so, with all the land around it, it must be a valuable property.
    ‘Your family must be wealthy, Paul!’
    My stomach was tying itself in knots. What was I doing here? This was going to be worse than I’d imagined.
    ‘If only,’ he said, pulling a wry face. ‘We were rich at the beginning of the last century but the money was frittered away by Grandfather Greenslade. These days we live on the bank and past glory. Things are what you might call tight where money is concerned.’
    Paul might not consider his family wealthy, but I knew instinctively that what he thought of as being ‘tight’ would probably seem like riches to my family.
    I ought not to have come here – this wasn’t my world. I felt so nervous that I wanted to run away. My feet seemed glued to the ground and I hung back as Paul took my arm.
    ‘What’s the matter?’
    ‘You shouldn’t have brought me here, Paul. Your parents won’t like me. I’m not the sort of girl they expect you to bring home. I can’t meet them. I’m sorry. I just can’t.’
    He frowned. ‘Silly Emma. You won’t have to meet them; they’re not here. They went away for the weekend. We shall have the house all to ourselves.’
    ‘Really?’ My relief was so overwhelming that I laughed. ‘Oh, Paul! You might have told me sooner. I’ve been so nervous all the way here.’
    ‘I wouldn’t put you through that ordeal yet,’ Paul said, giving me a brief kiss on the lips. ‘When