After a long moment, the door opened, but it wasn’t Emma at the door. It was Jack, on his way out, and surprised to see me.
‘Nina!’ he said, and Emma popped her head out the door, her face flushed.
‘Hi!’ I chirped, my voice dying in my throat. ‘Is something wrong? You guys look… angry. Have you been quarrelling or something?’ They hadn’t even heard the doorbell.
Jack’s eyes swung to Emma’s and then he forced a laugh. ‘Of course not. I came to… sort Emma’s Wi-Fi.’
I looked between the two of them. Neither seemed thrilled to see me.
‘Guys,’ I said. ‘I know I haven’t been around much lately, but I’m here for you both.’
Emma huffed. ‘Thanks.’
‘Would you like to come over for dinner tonight?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Emma said. ‘I can’t.’
‘And I have to see someone,’ Jack added.
‘Hot date?’ I said and his eyes swung to Emma’s before he laughed. ‘Me? Nah.’
‘Oh, okay, then,’ I said. ‘Shall we, uhm, reschedule?’
Emma coughed. ‘Yeah, sure. I have to get back to work now. I have a client from hell. Thanks again for your help, Jack,’ Emma said as she ducked back inside to get her bag. It was like she didn’t even want me to come in.
He waved her away. ‘Don’t mention it.’
29
Mystery Man
The next day I went to drop Ben off at his friend Joe’s and also back to see Emma’s new place in Truro where Chanel and Chloe would be having another sleepover.
This time I bought her a housewarming present, i.e. a gin tumbler and glasses for her fun fests.
She was behaving very oddly indeed lately. On a personal level, she seemed to be all over the place, but on the other hand, her job was going well. It was like she’d been injected with some energy drug lately as she bounced around the whole time and her eyes were bright with excitement. I wondered if it wasn’t just her new client. And yes, she was definitely sleeping with someone. All the signs were there. But she had made it clear that she wasn’t ready to talk about it. Who on earth could it be? Her bank manager? Her accountant? Those were the only men I saw her with on a regular basis, if you didn’t count Jack.
‘It’s not a house house with a garden or anything, but it’s conducive to our lifestyle,’ she explained as she proudly showed me around. ‘We go out the front door and straight into the thick of it. It’s perfect for Chanel as it’s only a bus ride away from Northwood, and it has huge bright rooms.’
‘I’m so happy for you, Em. Even if I miss you, I know this is the right step for you to take. Your business will flourish in Truro and you might even meet a city bloke.’
At that, she paled. ‘I’m sorry about yesterday, Nina.’
‘Don’t mention it. You’ll talk when you’re ready.’
‘And this,’ she said, moving towards the kitchen, a modern, glossy affair that spoke of fashionista Emma, ‘is the largest waste of space as far as I’m concerned because, as you know, I don’t cook much.’
It was almost clinical, but magazine beautiful – so far from my own drab and unfinished kitchen that always had something on the boil or in the oven.
‘I’d die for a kitchen like this, Em! You should use it!’
‘No, this is where my bread and butter is,’ she said, gesturing to the living room that was decorated as an office. It had period features such as a fire and crown moulding, and a new glass desk, with a swivel chair and a super-modern but comfy padded bench instead of two guest chairs.
Everywhere there were pictures of her past weddings on show, giving the room a refined yet welcoming atmosphere. Her clients would indeed feel that she was worth their money, and much much more.
‘Chanel and I use the third bedroom as a living space,’ she explained.
‘That’s a great idea, Em. This place is gorgeous, congratulations!’
‘And the bedrooms are upstairs.’
‘Ooh, a duplex,’ I chimed as we climbed the period staircase. ‘How very chic!’
Chanel’s room was practically a replica of Chloe’s with the same uniform hanging from the wardrobe door, the same cosmetics scattered across the dresser, and the same pictures of each other and themselves wedged into the mirror. All in all, the standard teen-girl’s den.
‘Now that we’ve seen your bedroom, let’s see Chanel’s,’ I quipped.
‘Haha, I know I’m messy, but here is me,’ Em said, pushing the door open.
I cast a casual glance, and stopped in my tracks. There, hanging from a hanger on the door, was a man’s jumper. My eyes swung to hers.
‘It’s for one of my clients,’ she explained hastily, but I knew her better than her own mother.
Her eyes darted from me to the door. ‘No one, I told you.’
I shrugged. ‘Okay, sorry, Em. I didn’t mean to pry.’
*
On the drive home, I wondered about Em. Why was it such a secret? Had she been carrying on with someone at her previous company, and got sacked? Maybe that Nigel bloke? But Emma had always implied that he was gay. But there were literally no other men at her company, unless… her boss? No way. He was married, and Emma was not the kind of person to sneak behind people’s backs. Her loyalty and honesty were what had won me over in the first place.
Suddenly, a pall of sadness descended upon me. In the space of a couple of months, we had drifted apart as each of us kept our lives secret, almost as if we were ashamed of our choices. It seemed we truly were no longer the Three’s Company of Meadowbank Lane.
After three full years of supporting each other through thick and thin, births, deaths, and divorces, we had suddenly shot apart. Was it my fault, because I was so busy with the
