Isabella's Heiress (24 page)

Elation was mixed with frustration, as Emma saw the wrong drawer open. She walked over to see two sets of neatly folded pyjamas and a couple of nightdresses. Emma looked at the drawer above it and realised that it was no longer flush against the dressing table but it had barely moved.

How come it had hardly moved, yet the one below had opened without complaint? Her heart sunk as she realised the reason why. It was locked.

Emma fell to the floor.

“Shit.” The elation now turned to desperation. How was she supposed to open it if it was locked? The frustration rose in Emma as yet another hurdle showed itself. “Shit!”

The middle drawer snapped shut with a sharp bang causing Emma to jump.

Her mother's voice called up from downstairs. “John, is that you?”

“Shit.” Emma froze. She looked towards the door, expecting it to open at any second but nothing happened. She could hear her mother's footsteps on the stairs but they went straight past her room and into the bedroom next door. Muffled voices could be heard before the footsteps retreated back downstairs. Emma breathed out and gathered her thoughts. The drawer was locked, typical. Where would the key be?

She stood up and looked around the dressing table but the key was nowhere to be seen. Emma eyed the jewellery box that sat in the centre of the table; the key had to be in there. Her mother had always placed it in the top of the box when she had cleaned her room to stop her from losing it, but it was jammed and no amount of effort on Emma's part was going to shift it. The only other place that it could have been was the jewellery tree but the only thing on that were chains.

In her exasperation, Emma gave up and sat back down. She knew she hadn't much time left and settled on having one last look around the room. The bedside tables were empty save for a couple of lamps and a book of verse by T S Elliot which had been Lisa's school project when she died. There was nowhere else it could be and Emma was sure it was in the jewellery box. She felt a mixture of frustration and fear. How was she going to get to the key? Time was running out. She tried not to think of her father lying only a few feet away, knowing that he only had two months before he died but it was inescapable and when she did, she felt the familiar twinge of guilt that came with putting
her own wellbeing in front of her father's obvious pain.

Emma slumped onto the bed and groaned, she knew there was nothing else she could do here but the prospect of returning to the twilight plane knowing what was waiting for her made her feel physically sick. She sat there for nearly an hour before she got slowly off the bed and headed downstairs. At the front door she turned to face the kitchen. Her mothers gentle sobbing reached her and Emma turned away unable to face the sight of her weeping. She left the house, too drained of any emotion to cry.

Father Eamon was waiting across the street and walked over to the front gate.

“How did it go?”

“Not good.”

“Oh?”

“The dressing table drawer I need to open is locked.”

“Ah.”

“Ah? All you can say is ah?”

“Tell me, do you know where the key is?”

“Yes but that's locked away as well.”

“As long as you know where the key is then we can get past this.”

“How?”

“We will start work on that tomorrow.”

“But we only have two months.”

“Then I suggest you pay attention.”

Emma felt a wave of indignation at that comment. Hadn't she been paying attention? It wasn't as if she had anything else to take her away from this.

They walked on and turned into the approach to the station. Emma watched as people exited and turned left and right with the singular purpose of getting home before the gathering storm clouds broke.

A group of commuters approached and Emma went
to push herself against the wall when her attention was grabbed by one of the men at the back. He wore a crumpled raincoat that was hunched up around his shoulders in a vain effort to keep out the cold. Emma's mind flicked into a different gear.
Oh my god isn't that Simon Scott?
He's put on weight and,
oh god, he's bald! That'll teach that prick to dump me.

A smile returned to her face and she walked into the station reflecting on how the most mundane things can make you instantly feel better about yourself. The ride into town would change her mood soon enough, Emma knew that, but for now she was content to wallow in the satisfied glow of knowing that the one guy who had made her feel truly miserable at seventeen was now overweight and had lost all of his hair.

For now that was enough.

The lights in the Amber Lounge dazzled Lisa as she leant against a railing, watching the mass of gyrating bodies on the dance floor below her. Shades of neon mixed with the heady hiss of smoke machines as the floor rumbled from the uniform thump of a thousand feet, but she wasn't thinking about the ebb and flow that washed around in front of her. This world of furtive glances and awkward flirting was completely alien to her and no matter how long she immersed herself in it; she knew she would never fit in.

To her left a small cluster of boys had congregated around her sister and Taryn. It was as if she didn't exist. Almost as soon as they had got into the club, the two of them had done their best to lose her and try though she might; Lisa had not been able to keep up. Now she had to console herself with a Coke as she felt a knot of disappointment slowly twist in her stomach. What had she done to Emma to be treated like this? She had been so happy to finally be able to head out with both her and Taryn and go to the places that her friends only dreamed about. All she wanted to do now was head home to bed, and put this whole night behind her.

Lisa looked over at the throng around the bar where Emma and Taryn stood, she watched as Taryn went all
doe-eyed at a comment made by someone with his back to her, whilst Emma brushed her hair to one side as some guy from the year above Lisa moved in a little closer. She grimaced as she watched his hand stroke Emma's arm and Emma reward him with a kiss.

It seemed as though there was an invisible glass wall that separated Lisa from all that was going on around her, with her being forced to watch from the outside. It had been the same for as long as she could remember. She had never fitted in with all the others in class. When they grouped together in their little cliques, she would be left on the outside, trying to make friends but failing miserably. As the rules and etiquette of teenage life kicked in, what started as small, seemingly trivial differences became the butt of contemptuous looks and deeply hurtful comments. Eventually Lisa had got to the point where she didn't want to say anything for fear of being shot down in flames.

And that was what made all this so painful. She had struggled to overcome her fear of places like this but all her insecurities had come back with a vengeance tonight and it was as if nothing had ever changed. Lisa made a promise to herself not to cry but it didn't stop her from wanting to run out the front door into the rain and find a place to curl up and die.

Her eyes started to blur as she gulped down deep breathes and she tried to concentrate on the music in an effort to drum out the feelings of rejection but the only effect was to make it worse as the immediacy of Emma and Lisa only served to reinforce her solitude.

She turned to leave, it was only a few miles home, and she could walk that couldn't she? When a familiar figure appeared next to her. He had two glasses in his hands.

Emma looked over at her sister leaning against the rail. She cut a solitary figure and, for a second, Emma felt a pang of guilt as she looked on at the social inadequacies betrayed by every move and flicker of Lisa's face, her eyes flipping restlessly from one spot to the next, whilst the curves in her mouth spoke of uncertainty and doubt. She had cut her off abruptly outside the pub and now felt bad about that but she had been seething over what happened with Victoria and she couldn't be blamed for that, could she?

Emma was about to go over and bring her into the huddle but at that moment Pete turned to face her. He'd come over to them along with three other boys who Emma didn't recognise but her heart had sunk when they had started to talk to Taryn and had practically ignored her. Taryn had tried to get her involved but it was obvious where all the interest lay. Emma couldn't blame Taryn; it had been the same since they were young. All the boys loved her, even if they didn't know why. Emma had watched Taryn grow in stature and popularity as they had progressed through school and had found in herself a growing resentment at how things were turning out. For all her looks and poise, Emma knew that Taryn could barely string a sentence together when it came to schoolwork. In fact if it weren't for her, Taryn would have flunked her GCSE mocks and would have had to face a summer of resits. The least she could have done was show her appreciation by throwing some help her way when it came to boys.

But it hadn't worked out that way. As she watched Taryn flutter her eyelashes and giggle inanely at yet another bad joke, Emma realised that it didn't matter what she did, if she was with Taryn it was clear who was going to get all the attention. The jealousy was mixed with a sense of helplessness that inevitably turned to depression and even at this early stage, Emma knew what would happen.
Taryn would disappear into a dark corner with whomever she chose from the group and she would either get the scraps or the others would just wander off to the bar without acknowledging her existence. Emma wasn't sure which was worse.

But tonight was particularly bad, Pete was here and Emma had hoped that something might happen there. He had come up to speak to her in school a couple of weeks earlier whilst she had been waiting in line for lunch and Emma had suddenly found herself overcome with a sudden attack of shyness. She had seen him playing football and had noticed him between lessons, her breath catching in her throat each time.

Then had come the moment in the lunch queue. Emma hadn't known what to say and had clutched for words only to find herself brushing her hair from her eyes like some idiot. Pete hadn't been much better, his words stumbling drunkenly out even though it was the middle of the school day. Eventually they had agreed to meet up in the Amber Lounge on the Saturday before their final exams. Emma had initially been reluctant as she wanted to spend all her spare time studying but Taryn had persuaded her to go.

Now, as she stood in the club, she was starting to regret her decision. She had never been much good in these situations, although Taryn had helped her through that, but even so, she was struggling for what to say to these guys when she knew that all they wanted involved her heading off into a dark recess somewhere.

“So how's the revision going?”

Pete's voice snapped Emma away from her thoughts. She looked at his mouth as he spoke, tracing every curve and line that extended from it.

“Not too bad, I've only got three more exams next week, then I'm done.”

“Oh, Which ones?”

“English language, math's and law.”

Pete grimaced, “math's, my favourite.”

Emma smiled, “Yeah, I know, I'm only doing it because I need it to get into Loughborough.”

The ice broken, the words flowed freely until slowly, their bodies were saying more than their mouths. They extricated themselves from the huddle and moved, almost imperceptibly, away from the others. Emma felt her heart jump as Pete's hand found its way onto her forearm. She allowed herself a small inner smile as she moved closer to Pete. Every one of her senses came alive as she looked up into his face and she felt an arm wrap itself around her waist as he lifted her into him.

Everything took on an electric edge as, out of the corner of her eye, a familiar figure walked up to Lisa's side.

Lisa turned to see the large brown eyes of Simon Scott taking her in. He thrust a glass in to her hand and smiled.

“Well, I didn't expect to see you here tonight.”

Lisa blushed, as she had done on every other occasion when she had seen him, and was silently grateful that the clubs low light hid her embarrassment.

“E…Emma brought me here.” She cursed herself for her ineptitude and waited for the snigger that always came back by way of response but it wasn't forthcoming.

“She did, did she? That was nice of her.”

Lisa managed a strangled, bitter laugh. “Yeah, I think she's starting to regret it.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, she doesn't want to admit that she knows me.”

Lisa threw a glance over her shoulder and watched as Simon's eyes followed. She saw a slight thinning of his lips as he saw Emma nuzzling some guys neck. He looked back at Lisa and down at the glass.

“I didn't know if you drank, so I took the chance.”

Lisa raised the glass to her lips and took a tentative sip, immediately regretting it and screwing up her eyes. “Eugh! What is it?”

Simon laughed “JD and Coke. Try another sip, you'll get used to it.”

She wasn't sure she wanted to but, looking at Simon, she steeled herself for another go. The slightly sour taste coated the inside of her mouth before slipping down her throat. She wasn't sure she liked it but it wasn't so bad either. Slowly, sip by sip, Lisa started to develop a taste for it. It wasn't as nice as the Malibu that Emma kept hidden in her bedroom but it had a certain tang that Lisa found appealing. She looked at Simon, warmth flowing through her as the drink made it's way down. Lisa had developed a crush on Simon from the moment she had first laid eyes on him. Unfortunately for her, that had been when Emma had brought him home to introduce to her parents. He had been her first serious boyfriend and Lisa had watched as the relationship between them had gone from strength to strength, wishing all the time that it was her not Emma having to close her bedroom door as gently as possible whenever he came over.

Now though, he was standing right in front of her and giving her his full attention. Lisa finished the glass and went to place it on the rail, when another one found its way into her hand.

“So, how's Emma's little sister these days?”

Lisa blushed at the description, “Well, I've just turned fifteen and I'm working through my exams.” She immediately
felt completely inadequate with her answer. Simon had left school the previous year and now worked for his father's building company, what did he care about something as trivial as exams?

“Really? Well happy birthday for your fifteenth. How are the exams going?”

“Oh, err, not so bad?” Lisa started to feel overwhelmed by the attention as she took another sip of the drink in her hand. Could the one person that she had always wanted actually be here now? Talking to her? She finished the drink as she tried to steady her nerves and Simon looked over his shoulder for a second before producing another two glasses.

This time Lisa took the glass, not waiting for it to be offered, as a newfound confidence started to ebb through her.

“So, how's life outside of school?” She cringed inwardly but it was the best she could come out with.

“Not so bad. Dad's got a few projects on the go and I'll be managing one of them before long.”

“Wow, what does that mean?”
Oh c'mon Lisa, don't be a complete idiot.

“Well, I'm going to be in charge of the site, which means all the guys working on it.”

Lisa felt her head start to swim as the alcohol started to take effect.

“But enough of that. What about you? What's been going on in your life? You got a boyfriend yet?”

Lisa blushed furiously which gave the answer she was not willing to say.

“No, huh. But you have kissed a boy haven't you?”

Again the red cheeks and downward glances told their own story.

“Hmm, fifteen and never been kissed, huh? Well we'll have to do something about that won't we?”

Lisa wasn't sure what he meant but if his comment didn't convey his meaning, the sudden presence of his right arm around her waist clarified things instantly.

“Simon, I don't know, your Emma's ex-boyfriend.”

“That was ages ago and besides, she doesn't have to know, does she? This is about you and me, I saw the way you used to look at me when I came over.”

Lisa wanted to say no but a combination of the drink and her own feelings suddenly coming to the surface combined to produce just enough ambiguity to hold off any response.

For the first time, she smelt the citrusy aftershave adorning his chin. She would have given anything to be sophisticated enough to be able to name it but as it was, she settled for being in a position to feel its fragrance surround her.