Читать книгу 59 Memory Lane - Celia Anderson - Страница 12

‘Well, of course I’m OK, darling,’ Julia says. ‘Why wouldn’t I be? I miss Gramps – I’m bound to, aren’t I? But I’m keeping very busy sorting his things.’

Emily imagines her grandmother, short dark hair as smooth and neat as ever, sitting next to the telephone table with her elegant legs up on a footstool, dressed in one of her daytime outfits – a print frock, maybe, or a soft sweater with a knee-length skirt. She can hear Radio Three playing in the background. It’s the sort of tinkling piano concerto that Gramps hated. He’d have switched it over to something more upbeat.

‘So what have you been doing with yourself? Are you getting out and about much?’

There’s a pause. ‘There’s a lot to do at home at the moment. And I’ve got to tell you about the letters, Em.’

Emily listens, fascinated, as Julia fills her in on the chest full of family treasures.

‘You’re kidding? Family memories going right back to the fifties? How cool is that?’

‘I know! But it’s not just that. I’ve found another couple of letters this morning, ones I’d not read before, or I can’t remember having seen them, anyway. I’m getting the strangest hints here and there about something that’s been missing for a very long time and has never been found, as far as I’m aware.’

‘Really? What is it?’

‘A rather unusual opal ring. I remember Don telling me about it. He wanted me to have it when we got engaged but I think his sisters or maybe his brother had other ideas. It belonged to their mother, and then it was lost just before she was going to give it to me.’

‘Wow. Was the ring valuable?’

‘Yes. But also hugely important to the family. It was supposed to bring luck to the wearer. Three perfect opals in an antique setting with little diamonds. I read somewhere that opals are meant to enhance memory and decrease confusion.’

‘Really? I don’t think a few stones could do that, do you?’

There’s a short silence. Emily can hear her grandmother breathing rather heavily. Is she crying? ‘Gran? Are you OK?’

Julia heaves a huge sigh. ‘Yes, dear, I’m fine. I so wish I’d got the ring now, though. I could certainly do with it. I’m sure I’d cope better if it was on my finger. It’d give me strength, I know it would. Opals are so pretty. They catch the light, and almost seem to glow.’

‘It sounds beautiful. So can I read the letters?’

‘Oh, I don’t think I dare risk any of them to the postal system. They’re too precious.’

‘No, you mustn’t. That’d be mad. Shall I come and see you? I’m way overdue a visit.’

‘Emily! That would be lovely! When can you come?’

The sheer excitement in her grandmother’s voice adds to the heap of guilt Emily’s been carrying around for the last few weeks. She knows she should have been back to Pengelly long before this, but there’s been Max to think about. And having Max on the brain has taken up way too much of her time lately.

‘I’ll talk to my boss. I’m owed quite a bit of annual leave but I’ve been too busy to take it this year. I can probably be with you by next weekend, hopefully on Sunday? Only a week to wait. Is that OK? I’ve got some meetings I can’t get out of in the next few days, but after that it should be fine.’

‘So long as I’m not putting you out.’

There’s a slight chill in Julia’s voice, and Emily feels her shoulders slump. She could have phrased it better, but work’s so full on at the moment and it’s not going to be easy to get away at short notice.

‘It’s no problem, honestly, Gran. I can’t wait to see you. Will you make a lemon drizzle cake?’

Another silence. Then Julia clears her throat. ‘How about chocolate fudge, for a change?’

‘Mmm, that sounds yummy. You know I love anything you bake. Right, well, I’ll get going and make the arrangements then. Love you.’

‘You too, darling. See you soon!’

Emily’s heart twists at the joy in her grandmother’s voice as they end the call. She gets up from the huge sofa where she’s been lying in her usual position: flat on her back with her legs up on one of its arms, her head on a heap of cushions at the other end. This is a rare day off for her, and she’s still in her dressing gown. It’s a black and gold silk kimono that Max bought her back from a trip to Japan. Emily had been so touched at the time until she’d found out accidentally through his secretary that he’d bought his wife exactly the same one in blue and green.

She reaches for her laptop and makes short work of booking a flight to Heathrow and then sorting out car hire. It’ll be best to present Colin, her boss, with a ready-made plan to stall any arguments. He owes her several favours, after all, with the extra hours she’s been putting in lately. Then she texts Max to tell him of her trip. He’s working on his latest crime novel at his family home in Cape Cod this week. Emily knows hopping on a plane or heading out in his top-of-the-range sports car at a moment’s notice won’t bother him. But will he want to see her enough to make the effort?

Max cares about her – she’s sure of that – but the trouble is he doesn’t care enough. They met at the glittering publishing party when his latest mind-blowing psychological thriller was launched. Emily wasn’t looking for a relationship, preferring to be a free agent and keep men at arm’s length as much as possible, but Max has seriously tempted her to change her mind, for a little while at least.

She remembers the impact of seeing Max for the first time. It really was the old cliché about eyes meeting across a crowded room. She spotted the man in the shabby cord jacket and jeans as soon as she came in after talking to the caterers, but he was deep in conversation with his agent, Ned, a bumptious character whom Emily usually tries to avoid. As she picked up a glass, he turned and looked straight at her. He murmured something to Ned and leaned in to hear the reply. Then he patted the other man on the back and strolled across to stand in front of Emily, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a flute of prosecco.

In her high-heeled silver sandals, Emily was exactly the same height as Max. His green eyes fixed on her blue ones, and she felt her stomach flip and her heart start to pound.

‘Ned tells me you’re the lady responsible for this affair,’ he said. ‘How come we haven’t met before?’ He sounded like a smoker, which was one of Emily’s pet hates, and his hair was receding – another black mark in her book. But his smouldering eyes more than made up for these deficiencies.

Emily was at that moment very glad she’d bothered to put on the new crimson dress that clung to her curves. It was a bit too short with these heels but it showed off her well-toned arms and shoulders. She had even been to a very swanky hairdresser’s that afternoon in honour of the occasion, and her hair was artfully tousled, her blond curls just how she liked them but didn’t manage to achieve very often. In the morning she’d look like a haystack, but for now … yes, she was feeling pretty good.

‘I’m fairly new to this branch,’ she said. ‘I came over from the London office three months ago.’

‘Their loss. I’m very pleased you did. What time can we leave?’

‘I’m sorry? Aren’t you enjoying the party? It’s taken me ages to organise.’

Emily heard the plaintive note in her voice and cursed herself for sounding needy, but Max just laughed. ‘It’s great, but there’s one problem.’

‘Is there? I thought I’d covered everything. The canapés will be coming round soon, and there’s proper champagne for the toast …’

‘Stop panicking, honey. The problem is that there are too many people. Two is the ideal number. You …’ he touched the tip of her nose, ‘… and me.’

Much later, as they lay in his hotel bed listening to the subdued roar of the night-time city, Emily was horrified at herself for falling for such a cheesy chat-up line, but her whole body was tingling and her lips were swollen from so much kissing. It wasn’t until the end of a week of passion that she discovered Max had a wife and three children in Massachusetts, and that he had absolutely no intention of leaving them.

That was the time to call it quits, but the dangerous thing about Max is that he knows how to have fun, and even boring activities become sparkling in his company. He turns everyday events into adventures. Now, in the tiny open-plan studio that goes with her job, Emily pushes thoughts of this addictive lover out of her head and sits down at her desk to email back to the man who’s poked her conscience with a sharp stick.

Dear Andy,

It’s very good of you to be so concerned about my grandmother.

Does that sound sarcastic? Oh well, if he wants to take it that way, he’s welcome to.

I think it’s best if I come over and see for myself how she is. Work has been crazy since the funeral or I’d have been before.

Emily bites her lip. She shouldn’t have to apologise to some hick gardener who’s sticking his nose into her business, should she? But then she remembers how happy Gran had been to hear from her, and carries on. The man means well. Probably.

I’ll be in Pengelly next Sunday (11 June) sometime, depending on traffic. I expect we’ll bump into each other, like we always have.

She deletes the last sentence. It’s only manners to ask to see him properly, not just hope to find him in the potting shed.

I’ll give you a call when I get there. Maybe we can meet up? Thanks again for your care.

Emily

There. That’s done. Emily presses Send before she can waste any more time altering the message. She glances at her phone. Still no reply from Max, but that’s no surprise. He’ll be in the garden room at the back of that dream of a house on the coast. When he first showed her photographs of his home, soon after she let slip she knew he was married, Emily thought he was joking. ‘THIS is yours? It’s enormous,’ she gasped, looking at the pool with its Swiss chalet-style changing room and the lawns sloping down towards the bay. ‘What on earth did you do before you were an author?’

Max looked a bit shamefaced at this. ‘Oh, I was a struggling writer for years before Ned took me on. We’ve always lived in Marcia’s family home.’

‘Right. Well, I can see why it’s worth staying with her then.’

He flinched at her tone. ‘Ouch. I guess I deserved that. I know it must look like I’m some sort of gold-digger to you, honey, but honestly, I stay because of the kids and because … well, Marcia’s kind of … unbalanced.’

‘Is she really? That must be awkward for you.’

‘Now don’t be catty, babe – it doesn’t suit you. I need to be there for my kids. I’m the only stable thing in their lives.’ Max’s eyes misted over and his voice trembled. Emily was fooled at the time. It took her a while to realise that not only was Max a fine writer, he was also an excellent actor.

Her phone pings with an incoming message. Hmm. Sooner than she thought.

Hey, babe, missing you too. No chance of me getting over before next weekend though. Marcia’s on the skids again, and I’m in charge here. Catch up when you’re back? Love you Honeybunch xxxxxxxxxx

Honeybunch? When has he ever called her that? He must be getting his nicknames mixed up. That one most likely belongs to Marcia. Emily hesitates, but not for long. It’s time to make a decision. She’ll miss Max in so many ways, but the thought of being alone again is suddenly tempting. The relief of not having to feel guilty about Marcia will almost make up for losing her capricious, charming lover. She taps out the words that will set her free.

Max, let’s leave it here, shall we? It’s been good, but it’s over. I should have done this weeks ago. I’m sure we’ll end up at the same parties from time to time when I get back from England, and I hope we can stay friends. Take care, Emily

She sends the text and then turns her phone off. It’s done, and she doesn’t feel nearly as depressed as she’d expected. A long, hot soak in the tub is what’s needed now, followed by an evening of crappy TV and several bowls of Ben & Jerry’s. And before she goes to bed, she’ll write herself a reminder to stay clear of men, especially the kind with super-sized egos, and wives back home. It’s the only way to stay sane.