The Secret Art of Forgiveness (29 page)

‘Good evening, Matilda. I finished early so I could come and debrief with Emily. We had a meeting this afternoon with the bank and we need to decide how we're going to proceed.'

‘And you didn't think to invite me?' Matilda slumped into a chair and wrapped her skirts around her legs like a comfort blanket. She had an air of the injured martyr about her. ‘Thanks a bunch. Didn't you think I'd want to be involved?'

‘Stop sulking. I didn't want to bother you. You have enough on your plate.' Tam bristled, clearly taking the gentlest route she knew, which was really not very gentle. ‘But basically, we're in a pickle. The bank isn't prepared to let us take out a second mortgage on The Hall to fix the roof because none of us earns enough to pay it back. Well, neither you nor I do. Emily Jane isn't included, because she lives and works abroad.' She spat the words out as if they were something she'd found on her shoe. ‘And we've been to the estate agent's and instructed them to put a large portion of the land and some of the outhouses up for sale. So, that's it. Basically we're selling Daddy's home from under his feet. He won't be able to stroll around the gardens, or wander into any of the buildings other than this one. He won't
understand.' She sucked in a stuttering breath. ‘And I promised him we'd never do anything like this.'

‘Don't cry.' Matilda went to her sister and kissed her cheek. ‘It is terrible news, though.'

Emily looked at their long faces and marvelled at how quickly siblings could roll from enemies to best friends from one minute to the next. That was something she'd never understand. She'd always be a singleton, always on the outside. However hard she tried with her stepsisters, she'd never quite fit in. And the knowledge of that made her sad. ‘Hey, it's the best we can make of a bad job. We have to be positive; at least we haven't lost The Hall altogether, and with the proceeds from our stall we can fix the roof. Talking of The Hall, Tilda, I was wondering if you could help me with something?'

‘I guess. What is it?' Matilda barely raised an eyebrow of interest.

‘I want to get the annexe ready for the festival. It needs a good coat of paint and a clean-up. I was thinking we could use it for one of the art workshops. It has lovely light in there and lots of room, plus an en-suite, so anyone needing the loo won't need to traipse up to the house or across the lawns to the portaloos.' She sighed and gave a little wink to Tamara.
This is how you do it gently, love.
‘Shame I'm not staying, because it would be lovely to live in there; great view across the valley, space for an office, or a... well, a studio. Part of The Hall, but a little removed. Great privacy. Beautiful…' She pretended to shake herself from a lovely reverie. ‘Anyway, I found some creamy white emulsion and gloss in the garage and I think it'd be perfect, but it's too big a job for just me in the short time we've got.' There. She hoped she'd planted the seed in Tilda's mind.

Tamara was looking at her with a secretive smile. That was another one she could add to her list. Seemed she was surrounded by people hugging happy little secrets to themselves. Her stepsister caught on quickly. ‘What a great idea. And such a shame you couldn't use it long-term, Emily. You're right; it's ideal for someone to live in with a little spruce-up. Can't think why it didn't occur to me before.'

‘And there's a great sturdy lock on it, too. So no one need bother you or your things. Maybe we should fix it up as a rental; we could get some income from it.'

‘Oh?' Tilda sat up straighter. ‘A studio, too? Is there a bedroom?'

‘Two. And a lovely working kitchen with amazing tiles on the walls. Don't you remember? The housekeeper used to live in there?'
And maybe now you could, too?

After setting Liam and Sally up on a subcommittee working group and now finding an easy solution to her stepsisters' living-arrangement woes, Emily had the strangest feeling she was becoming something akin to a relationship counsellor. Then she laughed to herself, because with her failed engagement and unwanted attraction to Jacob Taylor that was the funniest joke in the book.

* * *

‘I hope you don't mind, but I've invited Greta and Sean to join us, too? I thought it'd take the heat off you and Jacob, seeing as you didn't seem that keen to be around him. And hopefully it'll make Liam relax a little,' Sally whispered to Emily as they worked their way through the bar to the last empty table while the men got the first round in.

There was a flood of relief through Emily's veins. The spotlight wouldn't be on couples then. Just a group of friends on a night out. ‘Great, it sounds fun.'

But Sally was more astute than Emily had given her credit for. ‘Is there a problem with you and Jacob?'

‘Oh. No. Nothing at all.'
Liar.
There was a big problem. Emily wondered whether her face was belying her words, and whether she was wearing one of those secretive smiles she kept seeing. ‘It's just fun if there's a crowd, that's all. And Greta's lovely.'

‘I know. I can't believe we were so mean to her at school. I still feel bad about that.' Sal sat down but carved out a space on the banquette next to her with her coat and bag. ‘Would it be obvious if I saved this place for Liam?'

‘Not really. Do you want me to make a big sign, just so he gets the message? I've got some A4 paper somewhere.' Em made a play of reaching into her satchel.

Sal's voice rose a notch. ‘Oh! Your ring? Where's the ring?'

Oh, God.
It had to happen sometime. What was the fascination with looking at her fingers all of a sudden? She looked down at her hand and felt the familiar sensation of regret and panic and relief. ‘We… er, well… we split up.'

‘Oh, you poor thing. Here's me going all Cupid and you've got a broken heart. What the hell happened?'

Em was just about to brush the whole thing off when Greta sidled up. ‘Hey, you two. How's things?'

She tried to sit in Liam's seat and was ushered along to the next one by Sally. ‘Emily's got a broken heart. Brett's dumped her.'

‘Actually, I broke it off.' Emily wondered whether she should tell them more, but decided not to. Their friendship was still fledgling and she didn't want to open her love life up to analysis. But… actually, when she thought about it, surprisingly, she did. The pressure inside her was just increasing and increasing. She felt an overwhelming need to spill her thoughts and her feelings, and knew she would be safe with these women. ‘To be honest, I didn't know whether he was the right guy for me. I had doubts, you know?'

‘Oh, Em.' Greta's hand covered hers. ‘I had thought you didn't seem as excited as you should be. I'm sorry. You want to talk about it? Quick, before the men come back?'

The men were locked in conversation at the bar. There was a little time. ‘I don't know… I don't even know what to say. There was something inside me that felt as if it wasn't right, you know? We lost our zing.' And she seemed to have located it again; unfortunately, not with the right guy.

Sally patted Emily's hand. ‘Well, at least you had the guts to say something. You did the right thing.'

Thanks to Jacob. Out of the corner of her eye she could see him. He was talking to Liam, something serious, by the looks of it. But then, as if he could feel her eyes on him, he glanced over and their eyes locked. He smiled.
Shit.
She focused on the conversation with the girls,
which was, after all, about her whole regretful love life. ‘I'm taking time out to think things through.'

‘So you're still a couple, then?'

‘No. I don't think so. It's complicated. But he said he'd wait for me, for my answer.'

‘Is it still okay to swoon? ‘Cos he's lovely, really. Can I have him instead of you?' Greta gave a cheeky smile.

Emily gave her one back. ‘You've got Sean.'

‘Oh, I know.' Looking over to the bar, Greta caught her husband's eye. He pulled a face and wiggled his groin in her direction. She laughed and shook her head, her eyes shining and her cheeks red. ‘God, I love him. And I wouldn't change him for the world. Ever.'

That, that right there, was what Em was chasing. That confidence in love, unconditional acceptance. She'd been chasing it all her life really, with friends, family, boyfriends. She'd had it with her parents, but had been looking for it ever since they'd died. ‘I'm hoping that once I see Brett I'll know for absolute sure either way.'

Sally grimaced. ‘That could be awkward back at work, then.'

‘I know.' What if she still didn't want him when she saw him? She thought about all the great times they'd had, the teamwork, the happy vibe in the office, those long Sunday mornings she used to love. And wondered how the heck it'd be when she returned. She would work extra hard to make sure things weren't difficult at Baddermans. If she still had her job after this. A different kind of pressure started to kick in her stomach. She shouldn't be here; she should be working her butt off for her job. ‘I'm hoping we're both big enough to deal with it like reasonable adults, but – yeah. Awkward.'

Sean arrived carrying three drinks between two hands. He edged past his wife and placed the glasses gently on the table. ‘What's awkward?'

‘Eavesdropping on a private conversation,' Greta teased her husband.

‘Why? What's so private? Oh, I get it, you're giving us marks out of ten?' He wiggled his hips in a dance that was at once completely oversexual and hilarious. ‘I reckon I'm an eleven. Twelve?'

‘In your dreams, lover boy.' Greta pulled him to her and kissed him. ‘Okay, maybe you're a ten and a half.'

It was so easy, so natural. Nothing like Emily had had with Brett – what they'd had was kind and considerate and considered, but not carefree. And she knew she shouldn't compare her relationships with everyone else's, but she wondered if there was a way she could get that with him, if she tried really hard to relax, to just be herself like she was here.

Four hours and a shortlist of five reasonable bands, two definite nos and one stellar solo artist later, the taxi pulled up outside The Hall. Sean and Greta had been picked up by Greta's mum. Having dropped off Liam and Sally –
together
, at Sal's house – only Emily and Jacob were left.

Not wanting to spend any more time alone with him, she shoved open the door and climbed out. It had been an excellent night of laughter and friendship between the six of them – silly and teasing and just good, old-fashioned fun. There hadn't been a moment when she'd been alone with Jacob, thank goodness, because she didn't know if she could keep her stupid hormones under control for much longer. Their thighs had touched in the car all the way home and she'd just about managed to keep the conversation light. But now, logic told her she'd better get the hell out of his presence, but her body kept on hankering for his touch.

He followed her out of the cab, and after a discussion about paying halves for the taxi, which she won, she found herself alone with him again. She gave him a smile and wrapped her coat tightly around her shoulders. ‘I'll be off, then. Goodnight. Thanks.'

But he didn't take the hint. ‘I am walking you up to the door, Emily.'

‘There's no need. Honestly.'

‘Call me old-fashioned, but I want to make sure you get home safe.'

‘I'm fine.' She needed to get home, needed to be away from temptation, from him. She started to walk up the driveway, but he caught her hand and she stopped short. Her breath stalled in her chest. She whirled round to face him. ‘What?'

‘Emily Forrester, will you stop saying you're bloody fine. It's like it's your pat answer for everything.' She waited for
it's like talking to a brick wall. You're so closed-up about everything. You're too independent.
But it didn't come. Instead, he took both her hands and pulled her close. ‘I have every faith in your ability to achieve great things, Emily. Fabulous, amazing things. But I'd still like to walk you up the driveway.'

For a split second she leaned her head against his chest and inhaled his lemony scent, taking comfort from being in his arms, being so close and forgetting all the reasons why she couldn't do this.

Then he tipped her head up to look at him and smiled. ‘Okay. Let's get this out in the open.'

‘W… what?' Her heart started a wild beat.

He paused, clearly debating what he was going to say. ‘Okay. This is it… I can't pretend this isn't happening. God knows, I've tried.'

She wriggled from his grip; this was getting dangerous. ‘I… I have to go.'

But he tugged her back. ‘See, it's like there's this huge pressure in my chest every time I'm with you. I'm, well, I'm like a moth to a flame, fluttering around you.' His shoulders rose as he cringed, his nose wrinkling so much it made her laugh. ‘Sorry, that's probably way too cheesy. For a man who does words for a living, I'm seriously stuck for them right now. It's all a bit crazy, actually. I'm probably losing every macho point with every word, right?'

‘Not at all.' He was a mind reader. A magician. He felt the same. Which made everything a zillion times better and a zillion times worse. ‘But, I… I don't… I can't…'

He put his finger to her lips. ‘See, I can't help thinking that if I actually do what I've been wanting to do since the minute I saw you, then everything will be better. That ache will go, right?'

‘I don't know.' But she'd been wondering it, too. ‘I bloody hope so.'

‘Trouble is, I also think the pressure thing might get worse.' His eyes brightened and he laughed. ‘Basically, it could go either way.'

She couldn't help laughing again, too, because he wasn't just very sexy; he was also very sweet and very honest. ‘Maybe.'