Chapter 37
Emma
My house is full of my family, supportive neighbours, and the police. Noah's friends, who double up as the biker gang, all trawl through the house for drinks. Their work for the evening done, as the paparazzi are pushed out of the cul-de-sac and onto a normal street.
I hang on until the last non-family member is out of the house, and then I collapse. Nathan has already done just that in the living room and is being comforted by Mum. Noah is glaring at me, my dad trying to distract him from committing murder. Mine. Ollie is pale and trying not to look at me.
I sink onto a chair and put my head in my hands.
“Why did you send Jude away?” Noah is straight in. Always the hot head. “He was trying to help you. Help us.”
“Noah, there is more to this. Jude has brought all those reporters,” I fire back, looking to the sky for inspiration. “I’m not arguing with you.”
“You’ve ruined everything. We wanted him here. He looks after us. Wants to be our dad. And you’ve ruined it.” His face is contorted in disgust.
“You already have a dad,” I state matter-of-factly, trying to be the adult.
“We know. But we wanted Jude as well. He takes time off work to come to our cricket matches. Picks us up from school. Cooks for us. Dad doesn’t.” He’s still shouting at me. Normally he fizzles out quickly if he’s upset, but not today. I feel like every word is battering at my brain.
“It’s not that easy, Noah. It’s—”
“I’m not living with Dad and Amy. I love Cal, but I won’t go.” He stomps off and goes to his room, slamming the door so hard the whole house shakes.
“I want Jude. Ring Jude. Mum, please.” Nathan comes into the kitchen crying. I pull him into me for a huge hug. He sobs in my arms. The tears are streaming down mine.
“It’ll be all alright, Nattie. I’ll sort everything out.”
“Will you get Jude back?” He looks up at me in hope.
“Nat, I can’t have the police and press at our door. I—”
“But Jude said they’d go away. We could go to live at Greystone House. We love it there. It’s near school.” His logical mind has kicked in. He only sees one course of action.
I’m unconsciously shaking my head, and he starts to cry again as Mum comes and takes him upstairs.
Ollie comes over next. “What is it, Mum? Surely you wouldn’t have ended it with Jude over a few pictures on the internet.” He hugs me. “Was it Dad demanding custody?”
“He can’t do that, Emma,” My dad chips in. “You know he was just blustering, don’t you. He doesn’t want the kids full time. And there is no way Amy will agree. He was just trying to frighten you.”
I look at their faces. Kindness and love. Worry and fear that I’m overreacting beyond normal overreacting.
“Let’s get some food and drink, and then you need an early night and we can see what the morning brings.” Dad comes over and hugs me. “Don’t worry about it, love. We’ll sort it.”
I nod, defeated. I feel as if I’ve been punched and kicked. But all of the bruises are on the inside. My heart is racing, causing me to take extra deep breaths in just to keep up.
“I feel a bit dizzy. I’m going to go up.” I kiss them both and plod up the stairs. They don’t follow me. And I’m not sure if I think that’s a good thing.
I can hear Nathan sobbing quietly. And Noah, banging things in his room. I take over from Mum and lay alongside Nathan. Not saying a word. But kissing his head trying to give comfort when I know there is none. I have no idea how to stop all the things that have piled on me.
My business being stolen from under my nose on a daily basis.
My staff being poached so I have no one left to help me administer my dwindling roster of clients.
Being sued for unfair contract terms.
Lindy. The internet. All hating on me.
Nigel, trying to steal my home.
And now my kids. Full custody. I won’t survive if he takes them. They are my reason for living.
I’m not sure I should have sent Jude away, but in the moment it felt like the only action I could take.
Some decisive action in a situation that was completely overwhelming me.
A situation that I could not and did not want to be involved with or have to handle.
I was being totally reactive, and not in a positive way.
All night I lay in the bed with Nat. I watch every minute of every hour tick past on the little digital display on his alarm. I have not shut my eyes once.
Thursday 6:30am, I push up and go into my shower room. I haven’t even changed my clothes. I consider just stepping into the shower fully clothed, but I manage to derobe and step in.
The hot water hits my skin, and it feels like knives. I’d like to think I’ve made a few decisions, but I haven’t. The pile of problems seems to be suffocating me. I brace my hands against the wall in front of me, hang my head, and start to cry. Really cry.
I don’t think I have ever cried like this. Not ever. When Nigel left, I was numb. Angry. I cried tears of frustration and rage, upset over everything that had already been.
But these tears are for things that could have been. Every tear a hope and dream, flushing down the plug hole. And what’s worse, I know I instigated it. I sent him away. I was desperate to gain control back. But looking at it all now, I’m not sure if that was the best decision.
I stay in the shower for ages. I hear the boys start to move around. Can smell the bacon cooking from downstairs. Dad has the grill on the go, drawing them down with food.
When I can finally prise myself from the shower, I sit on the bed in my towel for what feels like days.
I can hardly make a decision on what to wear.
I know I need to go into work, but the dread filling the pit of my stomach at the thought seems to be weighing me down and not allowing me to move.
I’ve been in here for hours. Hiding out.
I finally dress in a skirt and blouse. It’s as much as I can manage. The doorbell goes as I’m on the stairs. The big clock in the hall tells me 10:30am. Surely the paps are not back. And if it’s Nigel, he can get lost.
“I’ll get it.” Mum bustles past me with determination, cracking open the door, and peering out. “Thank Christ it’s you, love. Get in here.” She widens the door and pulls Louise in.
She clocks my work clothes. “You weren’t coming in, were you?” she asks incredulously.
“I can’t afford to miss a day, not with all the problems.” My brain is functioning on pure muscle memory. “I’m not sure how much good I’ll be, but I need to be there at least as a figurehead.”
She pulls a face. Oh Jesus Christ, what’s happened now?
“Hold that thought.” She sighs.
“Come get a coffee.” Mum pulls at me and Louise, ushering us into the now deserted kitchen.
“Better add a drop of Baileys in it,” she mutters.
“What’s happened now?” I sit and wait for the next item to add to my disasterthon.
“We only have two staff members left.” She looks me dead in the eye, never one to shirk any information, good or bad.
“Who?”
“Ben and Holly.”
The two staff members who were with us in Berlin.
“The others gone to Prestige?” I know the answer before she nods.
“They were too scared to tell you yesterday. So I think they were relieved you didn’t turn up first thing. Cleared their desks in record time and left.” She picks up the coffee cup and grabs the Baileys bottle Mum has dumped on the counter top, pouring a huge dollop in both our mugs.
“It’s a good job we’ve hardly any client accounts left. We couldn’t handle them all.” I smile sarcastically at her. “Are Ben and Holly in the office today?”
“Yes. They’re going to stay and collate who we have left.
And get a plan together to blow their socks off with our interpersonal skills and account management.
" She's still sounding positive, and I begin to take heart in that. Until her voice drops low and fearful. “But stay off the internet. It’s a blood bath.”
I can’t contain my masochistic tendencies. I drag my laptop onto the counter and open it up.
“How could he have done it? Who does he think he’s helping by talking to them? You would have thought he would want to protect the boys.”
Nigel strikes again. Egged on by the reporters, he’s dissed Jude and me.
Insinuated Jude has cheated on me. But then went on to talk about our ‘lunch dates’.
Called me a lonely, depressed, desperate housewife, who is starved of attention.
Also inferred Jude is only interested in me because of my building.
I think the comment ‘C’mon. Lindy or Emma Lincoln?
’ is the shit icing on the rancid cake. I will never forgive him for his disrespect of me.
The fact we’re not together is irrelevant.
I’m the mother of his children, and he should respect that if nothing else.
But he’s ramped up this situation for his own narcissism.
I know the boys have seen all the internet ‘headlines,’ their faces pale and tense.
Ollie comes into the kitchen and tries to comfort me. “No one who knows you will bother, Mum.” He pulls me off my stool and into a hug. “They know it’s a load of crap. I’m not talking to Dad. He keeps phoning. Neither is Noah.”
My phone rings. Nigel. I ignore him.
“I’d block him,” Louise mutters, reading more gems from my ex-husband. “Has Jude called?” Louise looks up at the silence that falls over the kitchen, her eyes traveling from me to Ollie to Mum. “What’s Jude done? Oh God, what?” Her head is on a swivel.
Ollie breaks the silence. “Mum threw him out.” Louise’s mouth drops open as she turns to fix me with an incredulous stare.
“Told him it was his fault that Lindy put out those pictures.” Louise can’t hide her confusion as her disbelief turns into a what the fuck look.
“Told him she didn’t trust him and he just wanted her building.
Oh, and that he was a lying, scheming, manipulator.
” He gives me a ‘did I miss anything’ look.