‘Oh, Rupert,’ Sadie says, ‘what happened to Caro wasn’t your fault.’
‘What if it was?’ Rupert asks, getting to his feet, ‘I argued with her, after all, and it was about something silly, nothing that warranted what happened after. I just want Emily and I to get back on track.’
Sadie says nothing for a moment, her lips pressed tightly together. ‘Look, Rupert…’ She pauses as the door opens and Rupert’s secretary pokes her head in with a curious glance at Sadie.
‘Sorry, Rupert, Michael just wants to see you in his office for a second. Could you possibly spare him a few minutes?’
Rupert nods. ‘Tell him I’ll be along in a second. Sadie, are you OK to wait here for a moment while I just speak to Michael?’
Ten minutes later Rupert returns to his office to see Sadie collecting up her things and getting ready to leave.
‘I’m sorry, darling,’ she says, kissing his cheek and leaving a smear of her trademark red lipstick, ‘I have to dash, something at school for the twins that I simply cannot miss. But Rupert, what happened to Caro wasn’t your fault, and you know where I am if you need anything – anything – at all, OK?’
Rupert lets her go without an argument, almost relieved to see her leave. It was bad enough when Caro’s parents contacted him a few weeks ago, around the time of Caro’s anniversary, without having Sadie in his office, dredging up more painful memories. He can’t spend any more time today thinking about Caro, or Emily. A worm of guilt squirms in his stomach. He lied to Sadie, when he said he couldn’t remember what he and Caro argued about – of course he can remember. It would be impossible for him to forget. He pushes the thought away and tries to focus on the spreadsheet in front of him. He is about to ring through to his secretary to ask her if she’ll make him a coffee when his mobile buzzes on the desk next to him. It’s another message request on his Facebook account.
Rupert, please meet me at Paulo’s coffee house this afternoon. It’s about Emily. If you’ll just meet me then I’ll explain everything. Henry Carpenter.
At four o’clock Rupert finds himself waiting anxiously in Paulo’s for Henry Carpenter to show up. On receiving the message his instinct had been to ignore it or refuse to come but then he remembers his promise to himself, that he would meet Henry if he contacted him again. Despite his reluctance to get involved, he needs to set this guy straight – and if he is the guy that Emily has been running from, then he needs to protect her and see him off once and for all.
Now, he fiddles with his empty sugar packet as he waits for him, half expecting him to not turn up. He’ll listen to Henry, he decides, he’ll warn him off and then he’ll go home to Emily, make sure he’s back in time for dinner like she wanted. They’ll talk, and get things sorted out, and everything can go back to normal. It can be like it was at the cottage for the weekend. Maybe he’ll book something else, something a little more fancy to take Emily’s mind off it all.
He looks up as the ping of the bell above the door tells him someone has just walked in. A tall, slightly dishevelled man enters, looking around the dimly lit café until his gaze lands on Rupert. He starts to make his way over and Rupert feels his pulse increase. This must be him.
‘Rupert?’ The man stands in front of him, his dark hair falling over one eye, a hand outstretched to shake. ‘I’m Henry Carpenter. You can call me Harry.’
Harry. Rupert’s stomach swoops as he shakes Harry’s surprisingly firm handshake, and Rupert gestures for him to sit down. ‘Harry. I’m not sure I’m the person you think I am…’ Rupert starts to say, even though now he thinks maybe he is.
‘You are,’ Harry says shortly. ‘You married Emily, didn’t you? Crazy bitch.’
‘Hey,’ Rupert says, a spark of anger flaring, ‘don’t speak about her like that.’
‘So, you did marry Emily Beaumont then?’ Harry forces his eyes up to Rupert’s face, and Rupert can’t fail to notice that his hands shake slightly as he pulls out the chair and sits down.
‘No, I didn’t,’ Rupert says, ‘I married a girl called Emily Belrose. I’ve seen her birth certificate, her passport. That’s definitely her name.’
Harry fumbles in his pocket and brings out an older generation iPhone. He flicks at the screen before turning it to Rupert. ‘Emily. See?’ Rupert peers at the screen, swallowing as he sees a photo of Emily, his Emily, smiling back at him. It’s a photo he’s never seen before, but it’s her all the same. Emily as she looked before all the trouble started.
‘Look, Rupert, I know it’s difficult, but I came here to warn you.’
‘What do you mean warn me?’
‘About what she’s really like.’ Henry – Harry – sits back as the waitress brings him over a foamy cappuccino. ‘I bet she’s all sweetness and light, isn’t she? It won’t last like that, though. Before long she’ll show you what she’s really like. I was married before Emily came along. Happily married, or so I thought. And then she wormed her way into
