I removed my hand, marking the paper with my pen. ‘Consider it done. A-plus, your best work yet.’ I gave her a wink. ‘We’ve got ten minutes. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?’ I wasn’t really interested in her pitiful home life, but her physical presence was intoxicating. It was not often I was graced with such innocence in a fifteen-year-old girl. Her attention drawn inwards, my gaze crept to her skirt, which had risen above her knees. I looked at her face, now twisted with the effort of discussing problems that seemed buried too deep to reach.
‘Is it your family?’ I said, sympathetically tilting my head to one side. ‘You can trust me. I know what it’s like to grow up feeling like you don’t fit the mould.’
‘Do you?’ she said, a flicker of light reaching her eyes. I had hit the bullseye first time. Quickly I formulated a backstory, something that I hoped mirrored her own. I knew she came from a one-parent family, and was not part of the popular groups in school. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I didn’t have many friends growing up, and there was nobody I could confide in about what was happening at home. I felt isolated from everyone else, because their lives were so different to mine.’
Emma nodded sadly. ‘That’s how I feel too.’
I gave her a gentle smile, conscious time was ticking away. ‘Mum did her best after Dad died, but she couldn’t cope with bringing up a family on her own. That’s why I had nobody to turn to when . . .’ I paused for effect, it was best to leave these things vague. ‘Well, none of that matters now. All I’m saying is that you’re not alone.’
‘It’s why I couldn’t do my homework,’ she said, her voice low. ‘Dad wasn’t well and I had to call the doctor. Sometimes he finds it hard to breathe. He was meant to write a note but he was asleep when I left for school and I didn’t want to wake him.’
So not only was my little Lolita isolated, she played nursemaid to her father too. Perfect. Such commitment afforded little time for outside friends. The bell rang in the hall to signal the end of lunch.
‘I tell you what,’ I said, ‘why don’t you stay behind after school for some extra art tuition? We can have a chat, work out a plan for improving your exam results. You’re a talented artist, Emma; if we put in the extra work your pictures will be fit for the school exhibition this year.’
‘Really?’ she said, her face glowing from the compliment. ‘Mum used to exhibit her drawings, they were hung on the walls of the craft shop in Mersea.’
‘Well, there you go; you’ve obviously inherited your talents from her.’ I smiled. ‘Now, get moving, you don’t want to be late for your next lesson.’
I watched her as she walked away, her step lightened from the effect of my words. Her desperation would fuel our blossoming friendship. Delicious anticipation beckoned. I had baited the hook, now all I had to do was land her.
CHAPTER NINE
ALEX
2017
‘Congratulations, Alex – we’ll be sorry to see you go.’ Charles took me firmly by the hand, his gruff exterior temporarily lightened by his smile. His cheery disposition told me that his well wishes were genuine, and I returned his smile, feeling real hope for my future plans. It was a shame that his marriage to my sister-in-law had not worked out, but thankfully he had not allowed his personal life to colour his attitude towards me.
‘Thanks, I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,’ I said. The resignation of the divisional manager in Leeds had come just at the right time.
‘Sounds like you’re all primed for the role. You’ve sold your house, I hear?’
‘And about to offer on another,’ I said, hardly able to believe that the millstone around my neck would finally be disposed of. With a slap on the back, Charles told me to finish early for the weekend. For once, I didn’t disagree. I’d put in enough unpaid hours to be entitled to a half day to sort things out. I had lots to do, and hoped we could move as soon as Mark and Kirsty signed on the dotted line. I’d narrowed the search for our new home to two really promising places, and I wanted to persuade Emma to come to Leeds for viewings. Both houses were stunning: four bedrooms, glossy designer kitchens and lots of room for Jamie to run about in. I couldn’t wait to get him out of our ramshackle Mersea home. Emma used to tell me that the nearby beach made up for our lack of space. It was true that Jamie loved to go crabbing, searching the rock pools for the latest finds. He would come home, eyes bright, his tongue tripping over itself as he excitedly described his day’s excursion. I consoled myself that there would be far more opportunities in Leeds for him as he grew up, and plenty of chances for trips to the seaside during our holidays. From an early age, I’d had my future planned out. I wanted a successful career, a happy marriage and, to top it all off, a child. It hadn’t been easy to get to where I was now, but as I stepped out into the car park with the sunshine on my back, I felt truly blessed. It was only natural to want to move to a bigger home and be near my mum as she got older. Thankfully, Emma loved my mum and treated her as her own. Leaving the shop would be hard, but she was a brilliant businesswoman, and opening a new branch would be something for her to get her teeth into. So why, when there was so much to look forward to, did something seem to be holding her back?
Telling Emma had been easier than I’d expected. She had even agreed to visit Leeds to view some properties. But rather than soothe me, her calm exterior gave me greater cause for concern. She was an expert at hiding her feelings, selflessly keeping her problems to herself. It was why I had followed her out of our bedroom at 3 o’clock this morning. I hated spying on her but I knew I had taken a risk by pushing the sale of the house forward. A change in Emma’s routine could be enough to send her spiralling over the edge. Any day now she could relapse, and the effect on our family could be devastating. As I felt her toss and turn beside me in bed the night before, the thought occurred to me that the wheels might already have been set in motion. Yet, I could not live a half-life any longer, too scared of saying or doing anything for fear of upsetting her. She had told me once that anything could serve as a trigger when she was low – an argument, a mishap at work, a perceived parenting failure – reawakening the voice within. But, from what I knew, that voice had grown quieter not long after Jamie was born. They say being a parent makes you a less-selfish person. For us, our precious Jamie was a glimmer of hope. Emma had had an odd childhood, so unlike mine, and it had taken me a while to get to grips with what she had been through. If I didn’t push us to move forward, we would be stuck here for ever and resentment would eat away at my soul.
CHAPTER TEN
EMMA
2017