Emma slipped into the flat as quietly as she could, gingerly unbuckling her heels and wincing at the angry blisters theyd left. Shed barely got her coat off when her mums sleepy head peeked out from the hallway.
Back so soon? Did you bolt? Was the wedding that bad? her mum asked, already half-smirking.
And why arent you in bed, lurking about? Emma shot back, voice sharp from exhaustion.
Her mum pursed her lips in that classic, Im not angry, just disappointed way, then disappeared into the living room. Guilt twisted in Emmas stomach. Mum had clearly stayed up for a juicy update, and all Emma had done was snap at her. So she padded into the lounge and flopped beside her mum, offering a sheepish cuddle.
Dont try buttering me up. If you dont fancy talking, Ill hear the lot from Olivias mum anyway.
Mum, Im sorry. Im shattered and my feet are in agony. Emma let out a dramatic sigh. The restaurant was posher than Downton, at least fifty guests, so much noise. Olivia looked jaw-dropping in her white dress and her new husband, honestly, swoon-worthy
So why did you leave early, then? her mum cut in, ever the detective.
Because everyone there was so painfully self-important, Emma huffed. Honestly, they all acted like minor royals. Plus, Ive got to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow.
What for? Its Sunday, her mum said, raising a suspicious eyebrow.
Ill explain in the morning. For now, Im braving the shower. Emma pecked her mums cheek and shuffled off to her room to get the last of the wedding off her.
She yanked off her so-called nice dress with a shudder it looked embarrassingly budget compared to the parade of designer frocks shed been surrounded by all night. The steamy shower was a godsend, especially after that particular close encounter on the dance floor: an overly enthusiastic, sweaty, rotund bloke whod practically glued her to his paunch while insisting they dance. Politely refusing, shed ended up enduring sweaty palms pressed into her back, shoes gouging at her heels, and a desperate wish for the song to end.
Later, hed parked himself at her table and started pouring her drinks unasked. No one paid Emma much attention, not even her only friend at the wedding Olivia was busy being the glowing bride. A couple of men seemed interested, but none made any heroic attempts to rescue her. When Dance Floor Desperado finally let her go, Emma made a dash for the ladies, then straight out to the street, hailed a black cab, and was home before midnight.
No, she definitely didnt want a wedding like that. Everything felt so scripted, like a play where she was little more than an extra. As she lay in bed, the clinking of crystal glasses and the forced laughter echoed in her head. I wish one of the nice blokes had dragged me to the dance floor, not that walking cholesterol warning, she muttered, and finally drifted off.
October rolled in with unrelenting rain, and Olivia returned from her honeymoon, eager to host a post-wedding catch-up. Emma was curious to see how the newly wealthy lived. She popped by the bakery and picked up Olivias absolute favourite: a box of lemon slices. As she left the shop, she nearly collided with a man at the door. He stepped back, smiling.
Its you! he exclaimed, recognition lighting up his face.
Emma looked up it was the mysterious chap from the wedding. She froze, paws full of cakes.
Go on, out you come, he laughed, giving her a gentle tug from the doorway.
You vanished from the wedding like Cinderella, he grinned, flashing perfect teeth. Didnt get a chance to even say hello.
Emma laughed. Well, I didnt leave a shoe behind.
Are you heading home? Hop in, I can give you a lift, he said.
No, actually, Im off to see my mate, the bride from Saturday. What about you? Not shopping anymore?
Im so chuffed we ran into each other, Id give up all the lemon slices in England for this, he teased, eyeing her box. Come on, jump in. He offered his arm and led her to a very posh Land Rover.
Emma had never ridden in a car quite so shiny, or so full stop, really. He drove confidently. Emma started to worry when he didnt even ask for the address.
Dont fret. I know where she lives. Her husband and I are business partners and friends. He caught her wary look and smiled reassuringly.
On the way, he introduced himself as Edward divorced, runs a company, owns a very spoiled Labrador.
Rich, handsome, clever, and friendly, Emma thought. Just mums type.
Later that evening, when Emma got home, her mum immediately launched in. Youre late! I was worried.
Went to Olivias place. You should see her house, Mum its like something out of an interiors magazine Emma regaled Mum with breathless descriptions of chandeliers and walk-in wardrobes.
How did you even get there? She lives in The Millionaires Ditch now. Thats what locals called the posh gated estate on the edge of town.
A friend dropped me, Emma muttered, silently cursing herself for inviting this interrogation.
From the wedding, eh? Is he one of those? Did you at least give him your number?
Yes, Mum, practically shoved it at him, Emma snapped.
No need to take my head off. I just want you to find a decent chap, not some starving artist who cant spring for a meal deal, her mum said.
Mum, when exactly have we ever starved? Emma retorted with a glare.
Oh, well, I may have exaggerated a smidge her mum admitted, contrite. But do you really not like him?
Mum, please lets just drop it. Im not planning on getting married to anyone, thank you.
Just then, her mobile danced across the table. It was Edward.
I thought Id get in quick and call you. Got any plans for Sunday?
Just prepping for lectures, same as always.
All day? Forecasts brilliant how about a hack in the countryside? Ever been riding? No? Ill pick you up at eleven.
Emma agreed, forgetting to even ask when theyd started calling each other by first names.
Her experience with horses was limited to the elderly nags at her grans farm, and frankly, they scared her a bit. But the ride with Edward was exhilarating all fresh air, thundering hooves, and laughter.
Edward was charming, expertly folding her into his world of private members clubs and bottomless opportunity. He had that way about him; people always said yes to him. He opened every door and made Emma feel special.
The next weekend, out of the blue, he turned up at their place with a bunch of flowers and a chocolate gateau. Emma cringed at her tiny flat with its threadbare rug and faded wallpaper. Edward didnt seem to notice, though he was all smiles, attention, and kind words.
He said his childhood home looked just like this, cosy and full of love. Her mum was in raptures. Hes a dream come true, Em. If he proposes, say yes, she said, looking hopeful.
Oh for heavens sake, Mum, weve barely had a handful of dates! Emma protested. But sure enough, just before the New Year, Edward popped the question and gave her a sparkling diamond ring.
Thank goodness, I can finally rest in peace, her mum said, hand to her chest. Emma could only roll her eyes.
They wed in a charming country house that March, as the daffodils bloomed and hope seemed to rise on the spring breeze. Emma insisted on keeping it small and simple, and Edward agreed. She moved into his grand home after the wedding.
At least shed have someone to talk to unlike Olivias new crowd, who only cared about spa weekends and shopping sprees. Theyve probably never touched a book, Olivia moaned, but was happily pregnant now.
The only hiccup? Edward never let Emma go anywhere alone. His driver ferried her to university and home. One day classes finished early; Emma skipped the arranged pick-up and walked home on her own.
It was gorgeous outside. The trees were budding, the air alive with spring. On the way, she bumped into Alex, an old course-mate. They ended up chatting over coffee. Emma missed these simple, honest conversations lately, her classmates had started keeping their distance.
Whats up? Youre miles away, Alex asked.
Time to head home, Emma said, suddenly anxious.
Is he… controlling? Alex frowned.
No, just, er, time to go, she replied, rising to leave.
Edward was waiting when she got back, cold and clipped. Where were you?
At uni.
Dont lie. I know lectures were cancelled. So, what off for a secret tryst?
Hes not a lover! We just study together, Emma defended herself, shaken by Edwards tone.
Edwards eyes became icy, like blue steel. I saw you in that café. Youre my wife now, Emma. With my kind of enemies, you cant risk embarrassing me.
Embarrassing you? By having coffee with a friend?
I dont think you get it. He got up from his plush sofa and advanced.
Dont you dare talk to me like that, Emma retorted, backing off.
He gripped her arm hard. You do as youre told
Or what? Youll lock me up? Youll suspect every patient I treat when Im a doctor is out to seduce me? Emma fought to wrench her arm from his iron grip.
Everything happened in a heartbeat. She didnt even register the pain until she tasted blood from her split lip and felt her cheek swell.
His mouth kept moving, but Emma was hardly able to understand anything, the roaring in her head so loud. She mumbled something and managed to nod. Then, suddenly, he slapped her hard, so quick she couldnt protect herself. Pain exploded and darkness followed.
When she came round, Edward was gone. She sobbed, her whole body shuddering. Later, she dragged herself upstairs, collapsed on the bed, and wept until she had nothing left. When she tried to fetch some ice, she found the bedroom door locked Edward mustve turned the key without her noticing.
By morning her face was mottled and puffy, the split lip throbbing. Edward hadnt come back, and hed taken away her phone too. Emma prowled the bedroom like a caged sparrow, searching vainly for escape until finally: a click at the door.
Well? Have you seen sense? Edward stood in the doorway.
I hate you! Let me out! Emma spat, pain making her reckless.
He hit her again, not as hard, but right on the same side of her already tender face. He locked her in once more.
As luck had it, the cleaner came by before lunch. Emma begged her to unlock the door. The cleaner, shaking, opened it and gasped at Emmas face.
Hell have my head if you leave
Just tell him I tricked you I asked for some water and legged it, Emma insisted.
The cleaner reluctantly agreed. Emma pulled on her hoodie, ducked her head, and slipped out. She took the long way home, avoiding eye contact with strangers and scaring a few nonetheless. Her mother gasped when she saw her.
Heavens above. He seemed so decent. Im so sorry, darling, I just wanted what was best for you… What if he comes here? The doors are rubbish, hed boot them in
Oh, Mum, dont panic.
Emma couldnt care less by now, but she called Alex all the same, asking him to come. By then he was already working for the ambulance service, getting hands-on experience. He patched her up, called a GP to record her injuries, and snapped some photos for evidence. Then Alex had the presence of mind to send the pictures to Edward, with a warning: one wrong move and the images would be all over the internet.
Edward vanished from their lives after that. When Emmas bruises and swelling faded, she returned to her studies. The divorce was quick; by summer, after final exams, she and Alex were celebrating in a café when Edward happened to walk by, clinging to a new, younger companion.
While Edward was in the loo, Emma quietly slid over to the girl.
Be careful run while you can. Hes not who you think he is. Hell do to you what he did to me.
And you are? the girl asked, suspicious.
His ex-wife. Dont mention this to him, just… get away. Please. Emma slipped out before Edward returned, watching through the glass as his girlfriend shrugged innocently at his questions. She didnt say anything, Emma sighed in relief.
Whyd you warn her? Alex fussed as they left.
Because if someone had warned me Emma shook her head. I tried finding out the real reason for his last divorce, but everyone conveniently forgot to mention it. Even Olivia.
In the end, Alex and Emma moved to another city, he became a surgeon, Emma a cardiologist. They had a little boy, and her mum finally learned to stop poking her nose into Emmas life.
One day, getting a trim at the salon, Emma flicked through a crumpled old magazine and spotted a headline: Businessman Edward Ashworths Wife Found Dead in Scandalous Tragedy.
Outside, Alex was pushing their pram down the street. Thank goodness for you, our son, Mums health money means nothing compared to that, Emma thought to herself, smiling. The hairdresser called her up, and off she went, feeling lighter than she had in years.
