On legs like jelly, I tiptoe as quickly as I can to the huge fireplace in the sitting room, snatching up the poker from the set that sits on the huge marble hearth. Feeling safer now I have something in my hand to fend off whoever it is, I pause for a moment, straining to hear the slightest noise, but there is nothing except the rapid thud of my pulse beating at my temples. Dabbing at the sweat that beads my upper lip, the poker falls to my side and the doubts creep in. Did I really hear something? Or did I just imagine it, caught up as I was in thoughts about Caro?
I close my eyes, willing my heart rate to return to normal, for my breath to come evenly and steadily. I stand still, not moving a muscle until the adrenaline has faded away and I feel as though I can move on my shaking legs without falling over. Slowly, I open my eyes just in time to see a shadow flit past the stained-glass panes of the front door.
‘Arrrghhh!’ I shriek a war cry, yanking the front door open with the poker held high above my head, only to see Sadie on the doorstep. ‘Shit. Fuck. Oh God, Sadie, I’m so sorry.’ Panting, I slouch against the doorframe, hot tears stinging my eyes.
‘Oh my God, Emily! Are you OK? What the hell is going on?’ Sadie peers past me into the hallway. ‘You terrified me!’
‘Sadie, I’m so sorry. I was in the shower, and I thought I heard something, like the sound of a door clicking shut… I thought someone was in the house.’ An ugly heat starts to spread across my chest and up my neck, and I pull my robe tightly closed at the top. ‘You’d better come in.’
‘It was probably your cleaner woman… what’s her name?’ Amanda appears behind Sadie, immaculate in very expensive loungewear. ‘I thought I saw someone walk out of your drive as I turned into the road.’
‘Yes, that’s probably it,’ Sadie says, but her brows tug together in a deep V of concern, and I wish I hadn’t told her about Harry. ‘Amanda was just walking up the driveway when I arrived.’
I stand to one side to let both women in, feeling underdressed and smarting with embarrassment. ‘Yes. It probably was just Anya, now that I think about it. I don’t know why I overreacted so badly. Look, let yourselves through into the kitchen and I’ll go and get dressed. Won’t be a moment.’
Sadie and Amanda head into the kitchen and I scurry upstairs, feeling like a stranger in my own home. I shrug off the robe, grateful for the cool air on my hot skin before reaching for a pair of leggings and a soft, grey cashmere jumper – another gift from Rupert, I never would have been able to afford it myself – and as I turn to leave the bedroom, something catches my eye on the bedside table. Frowning, I scoop it up, turning it over in my hands, its weight a small pebble in my palm. A lipstick. The ruffled gold casing of a Charlotte Tilbury lipstick, so familiar that at first, I think it must be mine, but when I open it it’s not my usual nude pink, but the distinctive orangey-red colour that I’ve only ever seen one woman wearing: Caro, in the photographs dotted across Sadie’s piano, the red her signature shade. With a shiver, I ram the lid back on and shove it into the bathroom bin.
‘So, what will you do with yourself now you’re no longer a working woman? I mean, you have a cleaner now, so it’s not like you still have your old job,’ Sadie asks with a raised eyebrow, as she sips at a glass of wine, pushing her salad around her plate. I’ve yet to see Sadie eat anything of real substance in all the time I’ve known her, and I feel a sharp pang as I think of Mags, stuffing in macaroni cheese as she watches Masterchef on the battered old sofa in the flat.
‘I’m not sure,’ I say, resisting the urge to shovel the last of my quiche into my mouth. Maybe if I eat like Sadie, I’ll have collarbones like her too, one day. ‘Probably some charity work? I don’t just want to sit around at home all day, I think I’ll go mad.’
‘So why not try and get another job?’ Amanda asks, as she lays her knife and fork down, half the food still left on her plate. I lay my own cutlery down, looking regretfully at the last piece of quiche on the serving plate. Mags and I would have split it, and the thought of collarbones wouldn’t have even crossed my mind.
‘Well, I did think maybe I could, but Rupert doesn’t seem too keen. He’s quite insistent that he’s happy for me to stay home and look after him. I’m just not sure that I would be cut out for it.’
‘I bet,’ Amanda says. ‘Caro would never have stayed home like a good little wifey.’
‘I suppose it’s a bit different now you have someone in to do all that stuff for you. And even if you didn’t, it’s not like you’d still be getting paid to do it,’ Sadie says, her voice edged with something I can’t place. Before I can think of the best way to reply, she speaks again. ‘Emily, you have to do what’s right for the two of you. Although I do think that charity work might be a good thing for you – it’ll
