Chapter Twelve #3
Harriet peered at the word he’d made. ‘What’s a COCKU? And why’s it got a blank at the end?’
‘It’s meant to be a P,’ Churchill said.
She squealed, right in my ear. ‘COCK-UP, that’s a bit rude, innit? I didn’t know you could have things like that in Scrabble.’
‘It’s perfectly all right, Harriet, you’ll find it in any dictionary.’ Churchill gave a wolfish grin. ‘You know, meaning “blunder” or “mistake”.’
Then Jane said tersely, ‘But it has a hyphen, so it’s not allowed.’
Churchill threw up his hands in mock horror. ‘Oh, I declare, Miss Fairfax,’ he said, with an affected Texan drawl, ‘you’re so cruel, can’t you show some mercy for once?’
Tom had been leafing through the Oxford English Dictionary on the table beside him. Now he looked up and clicked his tongue in commiseration. ‘Bad luck, Flynn, Jane’s right.’
‘Sod it, I’ll just have to leave it at COCK. Does that satisfy you, Jane?’
Jane flushed. ‘How I feel is irrelevant, you need to learn the rules of the game.’
‘Bring on the cane, Jane, and I’ll take my punishment like a man.’ He nudged Emma, who was sitting next to him. ‘Now it’s your turn, my lovely.’ He mouthed something in her ear and made her giggle, as usual.
‘I know you like whispering sweet nothings to Emma,’ Tom said good-humouredly, ‘but I’m sure she doesn’t need your help. She’s a Scrabble expert, always beats me by miles.’
Churchill ignored his father and mumbled in Emma’s ear again. She was almost helpless with laughter, but managed to gasp, ‘I can’t.’
He raised one eyebrow. ‘Oh? I always thought you were the adventurous sort, like Dan Dare.’
She glanced furtively across at Jane. ‘Shh, you are awful. Anyway, proper names aren’t allowed.’
He gave a petulant sigh. ‘If you won’t do it, I will.’ With a flourish, he placed four of her tiles on the board in front of an N. ‘There, triple word score, thirty-nine points.’
It was DIXON; the word meant nothing to me, but once again Jane went red.
This time, Kate intervened. ‘Come along, Flynn, no proper names. And share the joke with everyone, please, not just Emma.’
‘Sorry, Kate, the joke’s strictly private and confidential,’ he said breezily. ‘Oh well, Em, you’ll just have to think of an alternative. Can you manage as many as five letters, or will you be a safe, boring and unimaginative three?’
This was a not-so-subtle dig at my previous effort and I noticed Emma blush as she set out the word VIXEN. Not blind to all his faults, then. At least, not yet.
I resolved to go home as soon as this round was over; until then, I remained on my guard for any more clandestine interaction between Jane and Churchill.
Their behaviour reminded me of Emma’s and mine; so little said, so much left unspoken — like an iceberg, where only the tip is visible to the unwary traveller.
No one else seemed to have noticed anything, however, especially Emma.
God, she was so trusting! But I would keep my eyes and ears open until I returned to India; from then on, I’d ask John to do the same.
If I ever found out that Churchill was cheating on her, with Jane Fairfax or anyone else, I would kill him with my bare hands.
* * *
~~EMMA~~
I was relieved Mark hadn’t given me a New Year’s kiss.
The touch of his fingers was disturbing enough .
. . Yes, it was definitely relief I felt, not disappointment.
I reserved that for Harriet, who didn’t seem to be making much progress with Flynn.
Their kiss at midnight was nothing more than a peck, but then it must be rather inhibiting trying to get off with each other in front of people like Dad and Batty.
Afterwards, when we were playing Scrabble, no wonder the poor girl was all over Mark in a blatant attempt to make Flynn jealous — which only succeeded in making him flirt with me.
I couldn’t help noticing that Mark got very little in the way of loving from Jane.
Maybe she’d put her foot down about displays of passion in public.
What a waste of the man’s talents! He really needed someone to take him somewhere more private for a few minutes and welcome in the New Year with a complete lack of respectability . . .
With an effort, I dragged my thoughts back to Scrabble just in time to hear Harriet babbling something about making a baby with Mark.
Shit, calling at Randalls was turning into a really, really bad idea.
By the time it was my turn, I was thinking — how could a game of Scrabble be so surreal?
We’d already had ‘breed’, ‘baby’ and ‘cock’; goodness knows what would come out next, it was just as well Dad had gone home.
When Flynn whispered in my ear, ‘Try DIXON, go on, see what she says’, I couldn’t stop myself from bursting into hysterical laughter.
Even though I refused, he went ahead and put the letters down.
I felt like shouting out, ‘It’s the name of Jane’s married lover, she’s not so perfect after all!
’ I didn’t, of course, but I did wonder if Mark had any suspicions about her.
In spite of everything, I didn’t want him to get hurt.
As soon as we finished the first round of Scrabble, he got up to leave.
Strange, there was no mention of Jane leaving with him, but then theirs was obviously not a straightforward relationship.
When Tom went out of the room to fetch Mark’s coat, I followed and waited outside by the porch.
I wrapped my arms round myself and looked up at the sky.
It was a crystal clear night, like that time at Ashridge; I shivered, and it wasn’t just with the cold.
‘Emma?’ Mark’s voice, warming me instantly; but then — ‘Get inside, you little idiot, you’ll freeze out here!’
Bloody typical, still treating me like a kid.
I turned towards him, half ready to pick a fight. But when I saw him in his dark overcoat, with the collar turned up, all I could think of was snuggling up to him and sharing a long, deep kiss.
‘I need to speak to you,’ was all I said, more curtly than I’d intended.
‘Can’t it wait?’ He sounded impatient and I wondered if he had a secret assignation with Jane, something along the lines of ‘I’ll go first, then you leave five minutes later, drop Mary home and come on to Donwell’.
Lucky old Jane, spending the night in Mark Knightley’s arms. But, for the moment, lucky old Jane was nowhere to be seen; and this was my chance to warn him about her.
I took a deep breath. ‘There’s no time like the present. Especially as we don’t seem to find it easy to talk these days.’
He frowned. ‘OK, but get in the car where it’s warm.’
And more private for what I had to say, I added to myself.
He led the way down the sparkling gravel path to the Mercedes.
It was only a few steps, yet it felt as though I was jumping over an abyss.
And then I was in the passenger seat next to him, just like on the way home from Ashridge, and I felt safe and — and cherished, somehow.
He had the engine running and the interior light on and the heater was going full blast. I didn’t look at his face; I just watched his fingers drumming on the leather-clad steering wheel and gave in to all sorts of wild, impetuous imaginings . . .
‘Yes?’ he prompted.
I started and glanced nervously across at him, twisting my hands together in my lap. ‘It’s just, um, I’m not sure if you know who Dixon is.’
‘Dixon?’ he said, blankly.
‘The word Flynn made from my letters.’
He stiffened and looked away. ‘Oh, that. I don’t want to know, I’m not interested in little private jokes between the two of you.’
I swallowed. This was going to be even more difficult than I’d thought. ‘It wasn’t just something between Flynn and me, it involved Jane too. You see, we were referring to Dan Dixon. He’s a friend of hers.’
‘So?’
‘More than a friend, if you know what I mean.’
‘What’s that to me?’
I gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Surely you don’t have to be so discreet all the bloody time? Everyone knows you’re — well, Kate’s been speculating for weeks that — oh, you know what I’m saying, that Jane and you . . .’ I let my voice trail off, desperate for him to bail me out.
He stared at the windscreen, his face expressionless. ‘That Jane and I — what?’
‘Come off it, giving her the Jag, taking her out for expensive lunches, then asking her to partner you to the Donwell Organics do. Not forgetting how much you’ve always gone on and on about how marvellous she is.’
At last he looked straight at me. ‘You mean you — and Kate, and God knows who else in Highbury from the sound of it — think that I’m sleeping with Jane?’
Just saying it made it seem real, too real. I felt tears sting the back of my eyes, but I nodded and managed a nonchalant smile.
He ran his hand through his hair. ‘Sometimes I hate this place — people adding two and two together and making at least eight!’ He let out a long uneven breath, then went on, ‘Look, I certainly didn’t give her the Jag, I thought it was from her friends, the Campbells or whatever they’re called, although now I’m not so sure .
. . And the lunches were only for our mentoring sessions, I felt it would be more relaxing for her than my office.
As for the Donwell Organics party — well, she was the obvious choice in the absence of — of anyone more suitable.
Of course I think very highly of her and I don’t mind who knows it, but that’s as far as it goes.
’ He gave a grim laugh. ‘I have absolutely no plans to get her into bed. She’s not my type at all. ’
I didn’t buy that for one moment. ‘But she’s so like Tamara, all long black hair and white skin—’