Emma's Story Read online

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  HarperImpulse

  an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2018

  Copyright © Georgia Hill 2018

  Cover design by Micaela Alcaino © HarperCollins Publishers 2018

  Cover illustration © Shutterstock.com

  Georgia Hill asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Ebook Edition © August 2018 ISBN: 9780008281274

  Version: 2018-07-10

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Part Two: Emma’s Story

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Acknowledgements

  Also in The Little Book Café Series

  About the Author

  About HarperImpulse

  About the Publisher

  To Bertie, with love and cuddles.

  PART TWO

  Emma’s Story

  Chapter 1

  ‘Emma, what have you done now?’ Linda Tizzard shrieked as she opened the bathroom door and stared at her daughter, open-mouthed.

  Emma shot up guiltily. She mopped at a lock of her now bright tangerine hair with a stained towel. ‘Thought I’d go auburn. For a change.’

  Her mother thinned her lips in a way Emma remembered only too well from childhood misdeeds. She was in trouble. Big trouble.

  ‘Auburn? You mean Tango orange, don’t you? Get this bathroom cleaned up now. It’s turned the bath orange. Why on earth didn’t you come into the salon and have it done properly, child?’ Linda grabbed a flannel and began scrubbing.

  Emma pursed her lips. ‘Maybe ‘cos I can’t afford Klassy Kutz prices?’

  Linda paused in her cleaning and looked at her daughter in exasperation. ‘You never stop to think, do you? Just like your father. You could have come in as a model or had one of the apprentice stylists. Suki wouldn’t have minded.’

  Emma chose not to answer. Suki owned the salon Linda worked in as a stylist. And she thought Suki would have minded very much. Although her mother adored the woman, Emma thought she was little more than a slave driver. She ran the shower hose attachment over the orange-splattered basin. ‘I really don’t know why you don’t start up on your own, Mum, rather than renting a chair at Suki’s.’

  ‘You think we’ve got that sort of money?’ Linda glared up at her daughter. ‘You need to get your head out of those clouds.’ She resumed scrubbing.

  ‘You could always go mobile. There’s always a need for mobile hairdressers and all the money would be yours then.’ Emma sighed knowing it was no use. Her mother was permanently in a bad mood. Emma knew it was worry over money but it didn’t make it any easier to live with. She knew Linda would never leave the salon. Her mother always chose the safe option. ‘Owning businesses isn’t for the likes of us,’ she always said. ‘Know your place and keep your head below the parapet,’ was her mother’s much-repeated motto.

  ‘I’ve got a perfectly good job at the salon, thank you very much,’ Linda said predictably. ‘And we need the money coming in, what with your dad’s job looking dicey. Seems there’s no call for a traditional vacuum cleaner nowadays. Folk all want those fancy cordless ones.’

  Emma lapsed into silence again. Her family seemed to lurch from one crisis to another. Last week it had been one of her mother’s regulars moving away from Berecombe. As she’d been a twice a week set and blow-dry customer, it meant a loss of income. Lurking in the background was the constant threat to her father’s job as office manager at a local manufacturer and this week Stevie, her thirteen-year-old brother, had got into trouble at school. She stared out of the bathroom window at the back garden. The small patch of lawn suffered from Stevie’s keepy-uppy competitions and the flower beds, now it was early autumn, had lost their summer glory. Her father’s beloved greenhouse was in one corner and the guinea-pig hutch was in another. It was just the sort of boring garden replicated in every Thirties semi on their street. She sighed again. Everything seemed so ordinary, so dull. Nothing happened to compare with anything in any of the books she read. It was one reason why she’d tried to spice things up. Dyeing her hair at least made a change. The other had been her longing to be more Demelza. ‘Be More Demelza’ was Emma’s new mantra. Passionate, forthright, wild with an independence of spirit Emma admired. That and the fact she’d married one of literature’s most gorgeous men, Ross Poldark.

  ‘Be More Demelza!’

  She hadn’t realized she’d said it out loud until the arrival of Stevie, barging into the bathroom, brought her back to the muddled, overcrowded, monotonous life that was her existence.

  ‘What the f—’ he began and then remembered Linda banned any swearing in her hearing. ‘What’s been going on in here, then?’ He caught a glimpse of Emma’s hair. ‘Oh boy! Look at you, you ginge.’

  Linda reared up. ‘That’s enough. Now you’re back from school, you can clean out those guinea pigs.’ When he began to protest, she continued, ‘Steven, you promised to do them at the weekend. They’re in a right mess. You wanted them, so you look after them. Off you go and no Xbox until your homework’s done.’ Turning on Emma, she thrust the flannel into her hand. ‘And you, madam, can finish cleaning up in here. I want it spotless before your father gets home.’

  Linda pushed her son out and followed him downstairs. Emma could hear them bickering as they went. She scowled. There was always too much noise and too many arguments going on in this house. And, at the same time, nothing ever changed. Glancing out of the window and hearing the guinea pigs squeal a hunger protest, she promised herself she’d find somewhere of her own to live. And soon. It was either that or go mad.

  Chapter 2

  Emma pushed open the front door of Hughes and Widrow Estate Agents, catching sight of her hair in the shop window as she did. Self-consciously tweaking her fringe, she grimaced. She’d aimed for the subtle auburn with vivid lights promised on the box but she must have left it on too long. When she’d met up with boyfriend Ollie for a drink in the Ol
d Harbour, he’d laughed at first and then asked when she was going to wash it out. If only she’d checked the small print. Instead of the wash-in wash-out she thought she’d bought, she’d picked up a box of permanent colour by mistake. Ollie hadn’t been impressed when she explained. They’d had a row over it – one of many, recently. He was so serious these days. She’d told him to lighten up and had left him to his RNLI pals. She just hoped her boss, Tash, would see the funny side.

  As her eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight outside, she could make out a willowy blonde standing by Tash’s desk. She was talking earnestly to her manager and they didn’t see her enter.

  ‘Morning,’ she said brightly and tried not to notice the shock on Tash’s face and the superciliously raised eyebrows on the stranger’s. Flinging her bag onto her desk, she switched on her computer and went into the little kitchen behind the office space to make coffee. ‘I will never dye my hair again,’ she vowed.

  ‘I’m very glad to hear it.’ Tash stood in the doorway, grinning. ‘It’s certainly a bold statement. Come and meet Leona, our new recruit.’

  Emma groaned. She’d forgotten the new member of their team was due to start today. The blonde with the patrician features and superior air must be the new estate agent and not a client. ‘Be right out, Tash. How does Leona like her coffee?’

  Tash looked blank. ‘Think she said she preferred mint tea. We’ll have to get some in.’ She ducked out and Emma could hear a muted conversation. Tash reappeared. ‘Just some hot water.’

  Emma muttered, ‘Who, in their right mind, drinks plain hot water?’ to herself while she waited for the kettle to boil. Finding the packet of chocolate digestives, she crammed one in her mouth and carried the tray of mugs through.

  Tash had set three chairs around her desk and she and Leona were already sitting down and peering at the computer monitor. Emma could see the agent’s website being displayed. She put the tray down and slid onto the third chair. It was slightly away from the others and made her feel excluded.

  ‘Hi Leona,’ she said, through a mouthful of digestive crumbs. ‘Welcome to the team.’ She wiped her chocolate-smudged hand on her trousers and held it out.

  The woman eyed her coolly. ‘So, you’re Emma,’ she drawled, in Sloaney-tones. She offered a fingertip handshake. ‘I’ve heard so much about you from Tash. I would have said hello when you walked in but I took you to be a cl—’

  ‘Who? The cleaner?’ Emma grinned but the joke misfired.

  Leona stared back at her blankly. ‘No, I meant I thought you might be a client.’

  ‘No probs,’ Emma went on genially. ‘Most folk in Berecombe can’t believe I’m an estate agent either.’ No response. Not much of a sense of humour, then. Shame. She and Tash got through most days having a bit of banter or a laugh. It cut through the stress sometimes. Having someone so po-faced in the office would change things. Still, maybe Leona was just nervous. Understandable on her first day. She picked up another biscuit and crunched into it. ‘In Berecombe you’ll find everyone says good morning to everyone. In fact, sometimes it’s hard to walk down the high street without someone striking up a conversation – whether you want it or not. We’re friendly like that in this town.’

  ‘I’m sure I have much to learn.’ Leona smiled without it reaching her eyes. She half-turned so that Emma was given the cold shoulder. Literally.

  Whoops. From the sour look on Leona’s face, that hadn’t gone down well. Emma didn’t want to start out on the wrong foot. They’d be working in a small team and it helped to get on together but it seemed whatever she said to the woman got misconstrued. Without thinking, she launched into a jokey apology. ‘Oops. Soz. Me and my big mouth. I didn’t mean to imply you’re unfriendly. It’s just that a small town is different from a big city.’ It couldn’t have been a worse thing to say.

  ‘In so many ways,’ Leona replied, without turning.

  Stop talking now, Emma said to herself. You’re just digging that hole even deeper, girlfriend. She sucked her lips shut and made a mute appeal to Tash.

  Tash glanced between the two. ‘I’m sure there’s no offence taken, Em.’

  Leona shrugged her thin shoulders ever so slightly. ‘Of course not.’

  ‘You’ve been handpicked by our ex-manager Pete, haven’t you?’ Tash added, pointedly changing the subject. ‘And you’re on the fast-track programme? That’s fantastic. And a degree as well?’

  Leona preened. ‘That’s right, Tash. In Business Studies from Plymouth uni. A first, actually.’ She gave Emma a look from under immaculate mink-shaded eyelashes. ‘Can I ask your backgrounds?’

  Tash explained she’d come straight into the job from A levels. ‘It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do,’ she added. ‘And I really wanted to learn on the job. ‘Made it to become the youngest branch manager in the company a year ago.’

  ‘How marvellous,’ Leona said. ‘And what about you, Erin?’

  Emma refused to rise to the bait. In truth, she didn’t know how to. She got on with most people she met and was fairly easy-going. This immediate and undeserved antagonism was new to her. ‘It’s Emma,’ she answered, equably. ‘And I never really knew what I wanted to do.’ She shrugged. ‘Did a few dead-end jobs, pubs and waitressing mostly, and then joined here when I was twenty-two. Liked it, so I stayed.’

  ‘Emma’s skill is her ability to hone in on what people want,’ Tash said, loyally. ‘I’ve yet to meet anyone she couldn’t charm. In this business it’s people skills as well as qualifications that get the job done.’ She smiled. ‘That, and the ability to stay calm when all around you is chaos.’

  ‘And that is my real talent,’ Emma put in, laughing. ‘If you live with a family like mine, it’s a developed survival tactic.’

  ‘Fascinating,’ Leona said, making it clear it was anything but. ‘So neither of you have any qualifications beyond school?’

  Tash and Emma’s eyes met. ‘Nope,’ they said in unison.

  ‘Oh.’

  The phone rang, piercing the frozen silence and making them jump. Emma rose to answer it. ‘I don’t know if I’ll be able to manage this,’ she muttered. ‘What with only my GCSEs and all.’

  Tash shot her a look. ‘Let’s go into the back office, shall we, Leona? I can fill you in a bit more and we can agree on your workload for this week.’ They got up and disappeared through the kitchen.

  Emma watched them. She and Tash got on well and had done so ever since they’d begun working together. Despite Tash being her boss, they were more like friends. She hoped the arrival of Leona, who had the makings of being a prize A bitch, wouldn’t change that. Fervently praying that it was just first day nerves that had made the woman so unlikeable, she picked up the phone. She put on her best estate agent’s voice and answered it.

  Chapter 3

  The creamy evening September sunshine, shining through the vast, double-height windows of the reading area in Millie’s bookshop, turned everyone a mellow autumnal shade. Since its launch, the previous month, the bookshop had turned into a roaring success. Much to the relief of owners, married couple Millie and Jed, and manager Amy. Even at this late hour there were people downstairs in the main shop, browsing the bookshelves and enjoying its unique, chilled atmosphere.

  Emma looked around at the mezzanine reading area with admiration. ‘Another book group.’ She rubbed her hands together. ‘I love it! Millie and Jed have made a real success of this place – and in such a short space of time too. It’s a fabby extension to their café.’

  ‘I know,’ Tash answered. ‘Doesn’t seem five minutes since the launch party last month. I’m so pleased for her. I really admire her – so hardworking. She had a shitty time when her parents died. Had to give up going to university and everything. Instead of feeling sorry for herself, she took over the café and worked 24-7. And it’s lovely to see her so happy with Jed too. She deserves all the happiness she can get.’ She sipped her wine appreciatively. ‘The catering is always great at book club too.�
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  Emma eyed her. ‘You going soft in your old age? Not like you to be sentimental.’

  ‘Nothing sentimental about it. Millie just gets on with things and I respect that. I’ve got to know her a bit better lately at the commerce meetings and she’s always full of enthusiasm about everything she does. And she’s got a lot on her plate too. The café, the wedding planning business, and now this place.’

  ‘Just as well she’s got Petra in to manage the café, then.’ Emma winked salaciously. ‘Mind you, I’d be pretty motivated to get into work too, if I worked alongside a husband who looked like Jed Henville. There’s something about him that makes me very … enthusiastic.’

  Tash laughed. ‘Emma, it’s about time you stopped lusting over other men, isn’t it? What with you having the lovely Ollie in tow.’

  ‘Ollie is lovely,’ Emma said, robustly. ‘But I’ve still got eyes, haven’t I? And hormones. No harm in looking. Keeps the blood flowing, or so my Auntie Tess says.’ She screwed up her face in a leer, a picture of Jed’s blond hair, wicked brown eyes and long legs springing into her mind. ‘And come on, Tash, have you seen the man?’

  ‘He’s very easy on the eye, I agree,’ Tash agreed, serenely. ‘And, more importantly, he is completely and utterly besotted with his wife, Millie,’ she said, emphasizing the word “wife”.

  ‘As if I’d do anything to stop that! Even if I could. Great believer in the sanctity of marriage, me.’

  ‘Are you?’ Tash looked at her curiously. ‘I never knew that.’

  ‘Yup. You might think it’s old-fashioned but I think marriage is the only way. Got some great examples in my family. Mum and Dad, Uncle Ken and Aunty Tess. They bicker like crazy but they love each other to bits, really. That’s what I want. Eventually.’ Emma stuck her nose into her glass and swallowed some wine, aware she might have revealed too much. She and Tash didn’t often get this deep. She deflected the focus back onto Tash. ‘And here’s you, all loved up with a fit new man.’ Emma made googly eyes. ‘You’re still at the stage when you don’t notice anyone else, let alone a hottie. Maybe it’ll be you asking Millie to plan a wedding next. How long’s it been now?’