Chapter 9
Emma
“The man has all the charm of a rodent. Still telling me that he isn’t helping Nigel. I don’t believe it. No one should have sufficient power to get my pitch cancelled other than me,” I hiss at Louise.
I spotted him striding down the hall. Every person—other than me—was desperate to catch his eye. And it isn’t because we are in Hall Three. Everyone in the Grand Hall will have been at it, too. He’s the equivalent of a rock star in this world. I find them all pathetic.
“Jude Greystone?” Louise’s voice raises in question as I return to the front of the stand.
“Yes, lying as usual. Said he had nothing to do with us being here. Fat chance. Prestige doesn’t pack the punch at a construction convention. Only he would. Well, he better get ready.” I smash my fist into the palm of my other hand, twice. I’m ready for action.
“Don’t do anything cray-cray. I think we need to talk.
Since he turned up on the scene, you’ve reverted to the Emma pre three kids.
You were always headstrong, then you hibernated for seventeen years, and now you’re back.
We might need to set some ground rules. The landscape has changed, baby girl. ”
I look at Louise, one of my oldest friends. If I’m heading for crazytown, she would definitely be the one to tell me.
“It’s just annoying. I hate liars, and the fact he’s turned into one.”
She raises her eyebrows at me. “You hardly know him. He only offered to turn you into a multimillionaire. I mean, what an arsehole.” She smirks at me, and I start to laugh.
She always drags me out of my own head. “Look, someone tried to shaft us. But we’ve turned it to our advantage.
I’ve been through the Grand Hall, and we’ve had way more foot traffic.
The cakes are a hit. We’ve got loads of contacts, and you’ve virtually signed up three people.
It’s been a great day, Emma. Let’s take it and go home with a smile. ”
“I suppose,” I state grudgingly.
In a way, being in this position has made me throw caution to the wind.
I’ve spoken way more freely than I would have if I had stood opposite Prestige in the Grand Hall.
I’d even changed my clothes. Everyone had been pink’d by Louise.
I’d refused originally, but then when we were shoved here, I thought bollocks to it and got changed. Down here, we’ve had a ball.
“And to be honest,” I admit with a shrug, “they’ll refund me my money, so we’ve attended for free. Win-win.”
“Exactly. Let’s get the afternoon going. I might ring the choir to see if they’ll come and do a flash mob. Maybe a bit of funky singing. Let’s get Hall Three pumping.”
She’s back to fist pumping and gets out her phone. Oh sweet Jesus. We’re gonna get thrown out and barred from a conference. That’ll be a first.
Hall Three: the place to be. What with the choir, my cupcakes, and I’m sure at least two stands are lacing their special brewed tea with sherry, the hall is packed.
We leave on a total high, with the organisers asking us back—free gratis—and all the stands around us asking us to attend other conventions with them.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. We’re supposed to be a professional outfit. I even bought tweed for the occasion. Now I’ve turned into a convention version of a strawberry shortcake.
Time runs on. Days start to flash into weeks.
But no matter how fast I’m running, my accounts don’t seem to be catching me up.
Everything is so slow—the money, the contracts…
the everything—and I need it all in my bank like yesterday, quick quick quick.
I’m sat at my kitchen table mulling over my spreadsheets, trying to magic up money that’s owed so I don’t have to dip into the overdraft to pay salaries at the end of the month.
“Is it bad, Mum.” Ollie is standing across from me. I never even noticed he was there.
“It’s not great, but it could be worse. At least I have signed contracts with companies so next month things will be back on track.” I sound positive, and smile at my oldest son.
He’s tall, six foot, his shoulders starting to fill out. He has my hair colour, dark brown, and my eye colour, but the shape is his dad’s. His nose is Nigel's. But his smile is all mine.
“Is it true what Dad said to you? What he’s told me. That developer Jude Greystone is helping him and Terry get you out of the building.” He sounds angry.
I shake my head, his dad has no right talking to Ollie about these things.
“Jude Greystone says not. But who knows. And I don’t know for definite that your dad is doing it deliberately.” I don’t know why I always try to ease Nigel's path, but I do. I don’t want my kids in the middle of a war.
“Well, Dad told you to your face he was. So I’m pretty sure he is.
He told me he wanted the money out of the house.
He keeps muttering about it on phone calls and whenever we’re there.
To be honest, has been for ages. I just didn’t say anything to you about it.
He said he has business interests he wants to pursue independently of the Langfords.
He’s annoyed you’re blocking his ventures. ” He looks dejected.
I sigh. “Well I’m not doing anything I’m not entitled to. And to be honest, I couldn’t afford to pay him off at the moment. I can afford to live here, but that’s it. Your dad will just have to wait.”
He comes over and hugs me. “We don’t tell him anything about home. It drives him mad. He tries to wiggle info out of us, but we’re like MI6. Even Nat shuts up. And Nat told Cal that if he comes here, and he reports anything back, he won’t be asked again.”
“Ohh that’s not nice. The poor boy will be terrified.
We’ll just have to make sure no one discusses anything Dad related when he’s here.
I’ll have to stop swearing every time his name is mentioned.
” I grin and pick up my yoga mat. “I’m off to meditation with Louise.
Put dinner on in an hour, it’s all ready to go.
Round everyone up, make them eat. You’re in charge. ”
I stand on my tiptoes and kiss my son—seriously, when did he get so tall?—and wave as I leave the house. It feels so good to be able to go out and not worry. I pass Noah on the front lawn, with a posse of friends. Heavy coats, bikes, beanies and hoodies, they look like a biker gang.
“You lot, pick up all this cricket gear,” I call to all the boys. “I know where you all live,” I shout, as I grin at them all.
I know every one of them, have since they were little.
They’re a good set of boys. They all grin back.
I skip past the cricket bats, balls, stumps, cricket pads, and an electric scooter.
Why does the contents of my garage end up on my front drive and lawn?
Nobody else in this cul-de-sac has these issues.
They all chorus goodbye as I navigate the gamut.
“And don’t be out here late. It’s getting dark. Make sure you’ve all got your lights on your bikes.” I can see all the eye rolls from the car and I grin. “Ollie’s got tea sorted.”
The minute I’m round this corner, my house will be full of the biker gang. But I’m happy—my boys are cared for and I’m on my way to a thirty minute meditation session. A warm blanket on a yoga mat. A lot of gossip and a coffee afterwards with the girls. Heaven.