frost on the ground, forming ice on top of the puddles and turning the mud hard.
I stop still and catch my breath. Emma is outside in the garden, hanging some washing out in the sunshine. I can see her through the thick hedge – just make out the red of her jumper.
I’m not making a sound, but suddenly Emma stops – her hands reaching up to the line. She freezes for a moment, and if I move slightly I can just make out her face. She seems to be listening, as if she’s heard something. But it’s not me. I am as silent as a mouse.
I see her shake her head, obviously deciding whatever she thought she heard, or perhaps sensed, she was wrong.
I’m safe for a few more minutes, but I need to find courage from somewhere. I need to do this – for Andy, if not for me. He believed that Emma meant every word of it; that she really does want me back. I find it harder to trust her – but I want to know. I need her to forgive me for what I did, because I’m not sure I will ever forgive myself.
12
‘Come on, Ollie, eat your lunch,’ Emma said as she put the spoon back in his hand for the third time. He was usually the easiest child to feed and loved whatever she put in front of him, but today he was playing up.
Emma felt unsettled today too. It was just one of those days when she felt twitchy but didn’t know why. Her conversation with Tom the other night had unnerved her, and for the first time since everything happened she was beginning to think she would have to move house. Stuck out here in the middle of nowhere, she never saw anybody, and it wasn’t healthy for Ollie either. She needed to be somewhere with people around her. She had only stayed here because of Tasha, in the hope that her stepdaughter would come home. This was the only place she knew to find her way back to, but even though Emma had now seen and spoken briefly to Tasha, the girl seemed further away than ever.
Emma sighed. When Tasha had called Emma had hoped that maybe she had finally started to get through to the girl, and perhaps after all this time Tasha had realised that Emma really did love her. Maybe she should give it until March. Then it would be a year since David had died and Tasha had left. She couldn’t help thinking too that it would be a year since Jack had reappeared, fleetingly, in her life. Too many things had happened in such a short space of time, but after a year with no change, perhaps that would be the right time to move on.
Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, and Emma jumped.
For God’s sake, calm down . What was the matter with her – she was jumping at her own shadow this morning.
She pushed her chair back from the table. ‘Eat your lunch, Ollie. We’re going out later, don’t forget. I’ll be back in a minute.’
She left the kitchen door ajar so she could hear Ollie and made her way down the hall. Nobody ever came here unannounced, and she had no idea who it could be. She had meantto have a peep hole installed but had never got round to it, so she put the chain on – knowing that if somebody wanted to kick it in at that point there would be little resistance – and opened the door a crack.
A man and a woman were standing there.
‘Good afternoon. It’s Mrs Joseph, isn’t it? Do you have a moment?’
Emma realised that she must look slightly deranged peering through the crack in the door, and these people looked harmless enough. The woman was wearing what Emma would describe as a sensible navy-blue skirt, just below the knee, and a blazer in a rather startling fuchsia colour. The man wore a sober-looking suit, and she couldn’t think what on earth they could want with her. She pushed the door to and released the chain before opening it fully.
‘What can I do for you?’ she asked.
‘No, Mrs Joseph, I think it’s more a case of what we can do for you.’ He reached a hand into his briefcase and pulled out a slim magazine, passing it across to Emma.
Just then Emma heard a shout from
Legs McNeil, Jennifer Osborne, Peter Pavia