Strictly Love (29 page)

Chapter Thirty-eight

 

Emily was hovering behind a pillar in the foyer of the GDC, desperate to know what had happened. Suddenly the corridor flooded with people jabbering excitedly.

‘So Jasmine Symonds has made the whole thing up?’

‘And Twinkletoes Tone was behind the leak?’

‘I heard Jasmine's lawyers are dropping the court case against Mark Davies too. It will never stand up now.’

It had worked. She'd done it. Emily breathed a sigh of relief, and stood to one side as the excited crowd poured out of the room towards the exit. Although she didn't want Mark to know she was there, she couldn't resist a peek at him, so she hid behind the pillar again and waited for him to come out.

Before he arrived, she was rewarded with the sight of a furious Jasmine and Tony bickering with each other.

And then, there he was, walking out quietly with an air of dignity, smiling that gorgeous smile – the one that sent her heart into her boots – and she longed to reach out and touch him, and tell him she was there. For a moment Emily prepared to throw caution to the wind and call out to him, and then suddenly Sam was there.

‘Mark, I'm sorry, I couldn't get here before,’ she said, ‘but I've just heard the news. Fantastic, darling, absolutely fantastic.’

She flung her arms around him, and he kissed her on the cheek.

‘I'm still pinching myself,’ he said. ‘Come on, I'd better plough my way through the massed hordes of the press, who are doubtless waiting outside for me.’

Emily watched them walk away and felt her heart shatter in two. Stupidly, a little bit of her had been hoping she'd got it wrong. But clearly she hadn't. There was nothing left for her to hope for.

Rob was on his way to watch the annual sixth-form panto when the call came through from Mark.

‘So you've got away with it then?’ teased Rob. ‘How much did you have to pay the judge for that one?’

‘Oh, the usual,’ joked Mark. ‘I offered him my body and he couldn't refuse.’

‘Seriously, mate,’ said Rob, ‘I'm thrilled for you. It must be such a weight off your mind.’

‘It is,’ said Mark.

‘Emily must be delighted,’ Rob added.

‘Emily?’ Mark queried. ‘What's Emily got to do with it?’

‘Oh shit,’ said Rob, ‘me and my big mouth. She swore me to secrecy.’

‘About what?’

‘The fact that she handed her notice in last week and has spent the last few days trying to uncover information that would help you. I went with her to a bar to track down Graham Harker. He wouldn't sign a statement, but he admitted to us that he'd spiked your drink. And Kerry told Emily that she and Tony had cooked up the whole thing together. I hadn't mentioned any of this because Emily wanted to surprise you.’

‘Emily did all that for me?’ Mark asked slowly.

‘She sure did,’ said Rob. ‘I'd say you're still well in there, mate. That girl seriously has the hots for you.’

‘You think?’

‘I know,’ said Rob. ‘Trust your old Uncle Rob for once. She's just yours for the taking.’

‘The only trouble is,’ said Mark, ‘I have no idea where she is.’

Mark came off the phone from Rob with a feeling of elation. Could this day get any better? Emily had given up everything to help him. Rob thought she was Mark's for the taking. As soon as he'd got past the media scrum, been to hospital to visit Gemma and checked on Beth, he was going straight round to Emily's to do what he'd been wanting to do for months: namely, carry on where they'd left off after the dancing weekend, before his life had gone into meltdown.

He and Sam walked out of the GDC building to encounter a raft of photographers and journalists shouting questions and taking photos. For the first time since Mark had been in this nightmare he was enjoying the blaze of publicity surrounding him. It was going to be a lot of fun getting back at his critics.

‘How do you feel, Mark?’

‘It's Mr Davies to you,’ said Mark, spotting his weasel-faced companion from the hospital. ‘And I feel great, thanks.’

‘What are you going to do now?’ another hack shouted.

‘Go and visit my daughter,’ said Mark.

‘Are you bitter about what happened?’

Mark paused. Was he bitter? Probably, a bit. But life was simply too short for bitterness. Gemma's accident had taught him that.

‘No, not bitter,’ said Mark, ‘but I do have this to say. I feel that, thanks to the actions of one brave person, my good name and reputation has been restored to me, as I always knew they would be. I appreciate you people have a job to do, but not all of us who get caught up in the media circus want to be there, and not all of us are guilty of the lies that get written about us day after day in your papers. When my daughter is better, I am going to campaign for greater privacy laws for ordinary citizens, so that this never happens to anyone else.’

‘Are you going to sue Jasmine now?’ shouted another reporter.

‘I think she's in enough trouble, don't you?’ said Mark.

‘What are you going to do now?’ asked another.

‘Well, right now I'm going to see my daughter,’ said Mark. ‘I'm sure Jasmine will be happy to talk to you.’

He pushed his way through the scrum and the press pack surged over to the entrance of the GDC from where Jasmine had emerged belligerently with the Rottweiler by her side. She'd clearly come out with all guns blazing.

‘What are you doing next, Jasmine?’ someone called.

‘I'm gonna sue,’ she spat aggressively. ‘I'm suing my lawyers. I'm suing A-Listers, and I'm suing Tony Cavendish. We are sooo history.’

‘That's right,’ added Kayla pugnaciously, 'she's gonna sue.’

The head of Emily's law firm, was standing on the pavement in front of the GDC, smoothly telling reporters that as of today they would be severing all links with A-Listers, whose reputation now lay in tatters.

The head of A-Listers was telling another hack that they would be suing Jasmine and Tony for misrepresentation.

On the opposite pavement, Tony stood looking on forlornly, promising to sue no one. He probably rued the day he'd ever set eyes on Jasmine Symonds.

Mark laughed. ‘It's a mad, mad world,’ he said. ‘I'm so glad I'm out of it. Come on, Sam, time to see our daughter.’

‘One last photo,’ a photographer yelled, and Mark obligingly put his arm round Sam and posed for the photo. He was feeling so at one with the world and happy, he could give them one picture.

He took his arm away from Sam and suddenly saw Emily in the crowd. He went to call her, but she stared at him with a look of such pain it went right through him. Oh my God – she'd just seen him put his arm round Sam. She didn't think –?

‘Emily!’ he called.

But she'd already gone.

* * *

 

‘How does that step go again?’ Katie and Rob were practising their Argentinian tango for the competition. Katie hadn't been sure if it was the right dance for them, but Rob had persuaded her it was. ‘Come on, it's sexy, it's daring, it's different,’ he'd said.

‘It goes one, two, three, four, and then I turn you, and there.’ He swung her round to face him.

‘You make it look so easy,’ said Katie.

‘Well, it is easy,’ said Rob, ‘when I'm dancing with you.’

‘Flatterer,’ said Katie jokingly, but she was secretly thrilled. She and Rob were falling into an easy relationship, and now the first shock of the situation with Charlie had eased, she had to admit it was doing her ego enormous good. And dancing with Rob certainly set her pulse racing. Particularly dancing the tango, which, she had to admit, was incredibly sexy. Charlie had never set her pulse racing like that.

More and more of late, she'd taken to wondering how much more her pulse might race if she and Rob took things a little further. But, as yet, he hadn't shown any inclination to, which was disappointing, but perhaps expected. He had behaved like the perfect gent, and fulfilled his promise to her not to take advantage of her vulnerable state. The trouble was, she wasn't feeling quite so vulnerable any more, and she'd quite like to be taken advantage of. But, having got it so badly wrong the last time, Katie wasn't about to suggest that she and Rob gave it a go. She was rather hoping he'd decide to say it first …

Chapter Thirty-nine

 

On Christmas Eve, Emily stood in the snow on a chilly Welsh hillside at her dad's grave, holding a wilting bunch of freesias, which was all that she'd managed to find at Paddington Station. It had taken all her strength to come, but it was something she knew she had to do.

Alun Dai Henderson
15 June 1942–28 November 2007
Dearly beloved husband, father and brother
In God We Trust

 

 

Even now, after a year, seeing it carved out in the stone it seemed almost impossible to think it was her beloved dad lying there, but she had to finally face up to the fact it was.

It was the first time Emily had been here since the funeral. She'd made excuses of time pressures before, but really she knew it was the fact that she'd felt she'd failed all his expectations that had stopped her from coming. And now that she finally felt she was getting to grips with her life, it seemed important that she put the past to rest, and made something of her future.

She knelt down in the snow and laid the flowers on the grave.

‘I'm sorry, Dad,’ she said. ‘I let you down. I didn't become the woman you wanted me to be. But I think I'm ready to be that person now. I won't let you down again.’

It was time to say goodbye. Blinking back the tears, Emily picked up her backpack and headed down the hill for home. The snow blew in her face, but as she reached the bottom of the hill, the clouds parted and sunshine briefly filled the valley. Somehow, she just knew her dad was telling her everything was going to be okay.

‘Happy Christmas, Happy Christmas!’ Katie felt quite surreal as she ushered her soon-to-be ex-husband, his lover and her potential lover into the lounge. But, as she'd said to her mum, if you couldn't be forgiving at Christmas, when could you? The children were going to have to get used to the situation one day, so it might as well be sooner rather than later. Besides, it didn't seem fair for them not to see both their parents at Christmas. As soon as Katie had learned from Charlie that his mother still hadn't forgiven him, she'd immediately asked him over on Christmas Day. When he'd said Hans would be in town, she'd been a little shocked, but decided to go with the flow. Finding out that Rob, too, was going to be on his own, she'd decided she might as well ask him too. She'd asked Mark, Sam and Beth, too, as Gemma was still in hospital, but they'd said they would rather all spend the day round Gemma's hospital bed.

‘Well, this is the oddest Christmas I've ever had,’ said Rob, as he came into the kitchen to see if Katie needed any help. ‘Expect the unexpected indeed.’

‘If you'd told me at the start of the year that I would be entertaining my husband and his male lover on Christmas Day, I'd never have believed you,’ laughed Katie. ‘But it does have its advantages.’

‘Doesn't it just.’ Rob moved tantalisingly close to her, but the moment was broken by Aidan running in to say that Molly had fallen over.

Somehow Katie didn't mind, though. She felt sure their time would come.

* * *

 

‘Happy Christmas!’

‘Happy Christmas!’

Mark, Sam and Beth sat on the edge of Gemma's bed, chinking glasses and eating chocolates.

‘Have we got crackers?’ Gemma wanted to know.

‘We not only have crackers,’ said Mark, ‘your very clever and versatile mother has brought us cold turkey a day early.’

‘I couldn't quite run to a roast,’ said Sam. ‘Sorry about that.’

‘When can we do presents?’ Beth asked.

‘Now, please say now,’ Gemma pleaded.

‘Well, maybe one now,’ teased Sam, ‘and some more later. I'm afraid the big ones will have to wait till you get home.’

The next ten minutes was spent in an orgy of ripping paper. The girls whooped and shrieked as they found CDs, clothes and make-up they'd requested.

‘Oh thanks, Dad, you're the best,’ said Gemma, finding herself in possession of the latest Amy Winehouse CD. ‘Sorry I haven't had a chance to buy you a present yet.’

‘I know this isn't quite the Christmas we were supposed to have,’ said Mark, ‘but I think your mum and I agree that the best Christmas present is having you here with us.’

Sam smiled through her tears and squeezed his hand, and then they all fell silent as the staff, who were touring the wards singing Christmas carols, launched into a heart-rending rendition of ‘Silent Night’.

‘Happy Christmas, Gemma,’ said Mark, and raised his glass. ‘And here's to a great New Year.’

‘Are you feeling a bit better, love?’ Emily's mum had been tenderly solicitous over Christmas. At first Emily had felt as though she was using her mum – her mum had enough troubles of her own, she didn't need her youngest daughter coming home with her tail between her legs having made such a catastrophic mess of her life. But her mum had been brilliant. ‘That's what I'm here for,’
she'd said. ‘Being a Mam is the one job you can never stop doing. Besides, I need to have someone to look after. Since your dad died I've felt completely useless.’

So Emily had spent a restful week, eating home-cooking and going for long coastal walks. It was good to feel the wind in her hair and the spray on her face, as she walked her mum's new dog on the beach – ‘Your sister suggested it,’ her mum had told her, ‘it's nice to have the company.’ Emily had enjoyed catching up with relatives she hadn't seen for years, including Auntie Mabel, who'd always been so suspicious of ‘Lunnon’ – ‘I always knew you'd come back,’ she said. ‘No good ever came of people who went to Lunnon’ – and cousins who had stayed in the area, worked in Swansea, and had had their kids young. She'd seen the future she would have had if her dad hadn't insisted that his bright little girl worked hard and went into law.

‘I feel much better, thanks,’ said Emily. ‘Though I think I've put on a stone since I've been here.’

‘About time you did,’ said her mum. ‘You'd got far too thin.’

Emily laughed. Her mum, who was built like a little round barrel, always thought everyone was too thin. She regarded it as her job in life to fatten up all those around her – as if the quality of her love could be measured in the size of the portions she doled out.

‘And you're sure you're okay for money,’ said Emily, ‘because even if I get this new job I'm going for, I'll be earning less, and I can't help as much with the loan as I could.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said her mum. ‘I'll be fine. It was a good idea of your sister's, persuading me to go back to work.’

Thanks to her dad's illness, her mum hadn't worked for years, and being a full-time carer had rendered her practically housebound. Now she was going out to work at the local M&S, Emily could detect a change in her. She was more confident – vivacious, almost – the jolly mother that Emily remembered from her childhood, before Dad's accident had robbed them all of a decent family life.

‘Besides, I told you about that letter I got, didn't I?’ said her mum.

‘Which letter was that?’ asked Emily.

‘The one from your dad's company. It turns out there's been a campaign started since your dad died. People liked him, you know, and they liked the fact that he always spoke up about what had happened. Anyway, they're going to give us some money. Not much, but it's something. It should be enough to pay off my debts.’

She passed over the letter, and Emily scanned its contents.

‘Oh no. Mam, you can't accept this,’ she said. ‘It's way too low. I know, I'll see if I can get my new firm to let me represent the patients’ group. Dad's company is doing the right thing badly. I'm sure we can get them to do it well.’

‘You're sure?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Emily with a sudden happy grin. Finally, here was a case worth fighting. ‘I have a few media contacts. I'm sure I can get a story out there that Dad's firm won't like to hear. I reckon we can get far more out of them.’

‘Is that legal?’ her mum asked.

‘Yes,’ said Emily, ‘it's perfectly legal. Moral? Perhaps not. But sometimes I think the end justifies the means, don't you?’

‘Let's just go over it one more time.’

Rob had arrived at Katie's with his dance DVDs and more wine. It was only three days until the competition and he was determined they were going to win. Katie wasn't taking it nearly seriously enough, in his opinion, teasing him constantly about his male ego.

‘But there's no point in doing anything if you're not going to be the best,’ said Rob.

‘And you're the best?’ Katie asked.

‘Oh yes, and one day you are going to know it,’ Rob said, then regretted it. He'd been trying very hard to keep a lid on his
feelings, but it was becoming more and more difficult. Every time he saw Katie, every time he danced with her, he knew he was falling deeper and deeper in love. Yet he still wasn't sure if she was ready for a new relationship, and he didn't want to rush her, so he held back. It was a new experience for Rob, getting to know a woman first before sleeping with her. And one he was rather enjoying. He'd met her mother, spent Christmas Day with her family, and seen an awful lot of the kids – who, to his relief, seemed to accept him easily.

It was, he also discovered, a way of utterly inflaming desire. The more he saw of Katie, the more he wanted her. The more he touched her while dancing, the more she inflamed him. She was becoming everything to him. He hoped that one day he might be everything to her.

‘Okay, if you insist,’ said Katie, ‘but do we really have to do the tango?’

‘Of course we do,’ said Rob. ‘It's the dance of lurve – it's the one where we can really show the judges our passion and commitment. I think we‘ve got a much better chance of winning with this.’

‘Okay, if you insist,’ Katie agreed, but she looked awkward.

They cleared a space in the lounge, Rob put on the music, and soon they were lost in the dance itself. Sometimes, when he was dancing with Katie, Rob felt as though he were somewhere far away, and all that connected them was the throbbing music and the way it flowed through them and in them as they fell into the dance. Dancing with Katie was like dancing with no one else.

The dance came to an end and she lay in his arms for a moment. He felt her tenderly lying against his chest, and longed to pull her to him to kiss her, to take her to bed. But she had seemed awkward and out of sorts earlier. He wasn't sure if she was ready for a new relationship. Or whether he should push her.

‘That was great,’ he said lightly, pulling away from her. ‘I think one more practice should do it.’

‘You're a hard taskmaster, Rob Dylan,’ said Katie.

‘It's why you love me,’ said Rob, wondering if one day soon he'd say that knowing it was true.