Chapter Three #3
He looked straight at me, his eyes glittering.
‘You see, Emma, the woman I’m thinking about is trapped by routine, burdened by responsibility, repressed by other people’s expectations.
What she craves is — emancipation. Or rather — ema-ncipation!
’ For some reason, he paused after the first two syllables and gave a mysterious smile.
I frowned. ‘Emancipation . . . Emancipation . . . No, not snappy enough.’
He leaned forward and said in a husky voice, ‘How about “Get ema-ncipated in the kitchen . . . with Harriet’s Secret Recipes”?’
I laughed. ‘D’you know, that’s not bad at all, it’ll definitely do until I find something better, which may not happen before the focus groups. So thank you, Philip.’ I picked up my handbag and got to my feet. ‘Well, I must be going, just need my camera, wherever that is.’
Harriet stood up too. ‘It’s upstairs, I’ll get it for you.’
She dashed out of the room. I went to follow her, but Philip blocked my path.
His face was flushed and he was almost panting.
‘Emma, I’m only too happy to help Marketing out in any way I can, any way at all .
And that strapline’ — he grinned, unpleasantly — ‘I’m sure it won’t take someone as clever as you very long to work out that it contains the name of my ideal woman—’
‘It’s glaringly obvious,’ I put in, with a pitying look, ‘even Harriet—’ I stopped as she came back into the room with my camera. ‘Thank you, Harriet, why don’t you stay and help Philip print those extra hard copies we discussed?’
Philip stepped away from me with a scowl. ‘Unfortunately, I have to go out now. And anyway, you need to take Harriet back to Hartfield to get her car.’
‘And the flowers,’ Harriet added. ‘I might have to borrow a vase thingy from you, Emma, there’s nothing like that at my house.’
I sighed. I felt like knocking their heads together, but on the other hand I was delighted at the way matters were progressing. ‘Come along then, Harriet. Thank you so much, Philip, see you tomorrow.’
‘I hope so, Emma. ’Bye, Harriet.’
As I drove off, I checked the mirror and saw him standing at his front door, gazing wistfully after us.
‘A very long but successful day,’ I said.
‘We’ve got our photos taken and printed off and we’ve even got a strapline.
“Get emancipated in the kitchen . . . with Harriet’s Secret Recipes.
” It’s growing on me.’ I paused. ‘While you were out of the room, Philip told me it contains the name of his ideal woman. He had the nerve to say it wouldn’t take me long to work it out.
I mean, Harriet’s Secret Recipes — duh!’
Harriet said slowly, ‘But don’t you remember? When he said it, he made “emancipated” sound so-o-o like “Emma-ncipated”. So couldn’t he mean you?’
I burst out laughing. ‘Oh, Harriet, really! You’ll be saying next that he brought that huge bunch of flowers to give to me . You’re far too modest for your own good, you know.’
She giggled. ‘Oh, you’re right, silly me, I wish I was clever like you, Emma.’ She hesitated, then went on, ‘By the way, did I tell you I’m going out with Rob tonight? So I couldn’t have stayed at Philip’s anyway.’
It was an effort, but I said nothing. I made up my mind, though, to move things up a gear on the matchmaking front. Philip was obviously interested; I just had to get any notions about Robert Martin out of Harriet’s head and suggest to her that, in my humble opinion, Philip was far superior.
Harriet didn’t need to be clever; she had me to do all the brain work for her.
* * *
~~MARK~~
After Hartfield, I went to Abbey Mill Haulage to discuss the latest food transportation directive with Rob Martin. We sat drinking tea in his office, putting the European Union to rights and regretting that it was run by politicians rather than sensible people like us.
I liked Rob a lot. His bulk — he was built like the proverbial brick shithouse — and stern, craggy features put people off, but to me he was just a gentle giant.
When I mentioned I’d been at the photo shoot, his face lit up. ‘Harriet’s telling me all about it tonight. We’re going on our third date and I’m really looking forward to it.’ He gave me an anxious look. ‘How did she get on today?’
‘She did as well as could be expected, given the limitations of the photographer.’
‘That was Emma, wasn’t it? She’s been very friendly to Harriet, even invited her to Hartfield the other week.
Surprised me, that did. Emma’s so posh, I wouldn’t have thought she’d bother with Harriet outside work.
I hope it doesn’t give her the wrong idea, you know, that she could be like Emma Woodhouse. ’
‘No one could be like Emma Woodhouse,’ I said drily. I almost added, ‘She has the attention span of a gnat, so when she loses interest in Harriet, make sure you’re there to pick up the pieces.’
But I didn’t. Experience told me that the most innocent of remarks had a tendency to come back and bite you, even years later.
* * *
~~EMMA~~
It was certainly Harriet’s week for flowers. A couple of days after the photo shoot, she received another bouquet, this time at Highbury Foods. Marie from Reception brought it up to my office.
At first I thought it might be from Philip again. But it was inferior to his in every way: size, style, quality of wrapping paper and the flowers themselves. Harriet buried her face in them, breathing in their non-existent scent.
I couldn’t help staring. ‘Good grief, I’ve never seen blue carnations before.’
She looked up and grinned. ‘I bet it’s because I support Saffend United.’
‘This came with them, Darren’s waiting downstairs for the answer.’ Marie held out a rather grubby-looking white envelope.
I resisted a strong temptation to snatch it out of her hand. ‘Darren?’
‘Darren Griffiths, he’s a driver with Abbey Mill Haulage.’
I knew immediately who’d sent the flowers.
Harriet placed the bouquet carefully on her desk, opened the envelope and read the note inside, over and over again. Then she lifted shining eyes to mine. ‘They’re from Rob.’
As if I hadn’t worked that one out! I moved swiftly into action. ‘Marie, perhaps you could go and see if Darren wants a coffee or something, while Harriet thinks about her answer. We’ll call you when it’s ready.’
As soon as Marie had gone, I said casually to Harriet, ‘Any particular reason for the flowers?’
‘You can read his note if you like, it’s so-o-o sweet.’
The note was on cheap paper and the handwriting rather immature, but I could tell he’d given it a lot of thought; there wasn’t a single spelling mistake or crossing out.
Dear Harriet,
I’ve been thinking a lot about Tuesday night, especially when we went back to your place. If only the girls hadn’t come home early and if only you weren’t sharing your room with Sharon’s friend until she moves into her own house . . .
Anyway, these flowers are to say ‘I love you’. They reminded me of your fantastic eyes as well as Southend United.
Also, Alison told me this morning that she and Tony can’t go to Amsterdam this weekend after all.
Like the kind big sister she is, she’s offering me and you their places on the trip.
Please, please say yes. You know what it means — two whole days to relax in each other’s company (oh, and with ten other people from the pub quiz team!) and two nights in a nice hotel room together, say no more.
I could have asked you about this over the phone but I didn’t want you to feel pressured. Just let me know as soon as possible if you can come.
Love,
Rob.
Harriet bobbed up and down on her chair. ‘Don’t you think it’s a good letter, Emma?’
‘Ye-e-es, I do,’ I said slowly. ‘Surprisingly good, someone must have helped him write it. I’ve never really spoken to the man, but I wouldn’t have thought him capable of this.
On the other hand, there are men who can hardly string two words together, but express themselves quite nicely on paper. ’ I handed the note back to her.
‘What do you think I should do?’ I was pleased to hear a hint of doubt in her voice.
I picked up the proposal she’d been typing for me. ‘Do? Oh, Harriet, you ask the strangest questions. Let him know as soon as possible, as he says.’
‘But what shall I say? And shall I do it over the phone?’
‘I would write, since Darren’s loitering around downstairs anyway. And be absolutely clear, give him no room to misunderstand you. You know, “really honoured . . . sorry to disappoint . . . no future in the relationship”. That sort of thing.’ I went quickly through into my room.
She came after me and stood at the door round-eyed. ‘You mean — say no ?’
‘What else? I thought you were just asking me the best way to say it.’
She chewed her lip.
‘So you were going to say yes?’ I hoped I sounded suitably incredulous.
‘I — I don’t know. What would you do if you were me?’
‘Harriet, I can’t tell you whether you should have a dirty weekend in Amsterdam or not, that’s entirely up to you.’
‘I didn’t know he was so keen, you know, love and all that.’ Harriet unfolded the note and gazed vacantly at it. I waited for her to speak, but she didn’t.
After a few moments, I said briskly, ‘What I can say, from my considerable experience of men, is that if I don’t feel I can say yes to something immediately, then it’s just not meant to be. But I don’t want to influence you, Harriet, it wouldn’t be fair.’
‘Yeah, I know, it’s up to me. And I really like him.’
‘I really like lots of people, but I wouldn’t sleep with the vast majority of them.’
She reflected on this. ‘It’s a big decision, innit, to go away with someone for the weekend?
I mean, we got a bit carried away on Tuesday night but we were interrupted.
And maybe that was a sign, you know? Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.
It’s not as if I fancied him right from the start, is it? I think maybe it’s safer to say no?’