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He looks up from his imaginary conversation with God knows who, almost as if surprised to find me there.
‘What a ridiculous question. Why do you think?’
‘You tell me. We have absolutely nothing in common except for work. You grew up with the Mayor of London, while I consider myself lucky if I manage to get through to a help desk on the phone.’
And as usual, he skips the sentimental stuff and goes straight for the practical side. ‘Why didn’t you say anything? All you have to do is tell me and I’ll have my assistant take care of these things for you.’
‘That’s not the point. Besides, I can manage my own affairs, thank you.’
‘No need to be snarky. I was just trying to help.’
‘I’m not being snarky. I’m simply stating that I live in the real world while you’re used to having everyone else do things for you.’
‘Actually, I don’t. You know I work round the clock. I hardly have time to breathe. And as a matter of fact, about Cornwall…’
Iknewthis was coming. I knew he’d find a way to get out of it some way or other.
I sigh. ‘Forget it, Stephen.’ And the sad thing is that I’m not even surprised.
‘Emmie, that’s not fair. You know how knackered I am and still you want to argue? I let the engagement party go. Even Mum has.’
‘Well, seeing as you’re not doing anything the night the party was supposed to be, I thought you’d come to the funeral with me.’
‘Who says I’m not doing anything?’
‘I don’t want to argue, Stephen. In fact, I don’t even want to talk.’ And with that, I walk to the bedroom door, where I pause. ‘I suggest you take the day off tomorrow before you do or say anything else you’ll be sorry for.’
Not that he is sorry. If anything, he is completely convinced I’m the one who made a mistake. Like mother, like son.
*
The next day, Saturday, is Maisie’s twenty-eighth birthday. As she hates surprises, she books a restaurant for her closest friends, just like every year. Tonight, the bloke of her choice is a rather dashing Mexican man named Pablo, whom she’s dubbed Old El Paso, but he finds it adorable. He findsheradorable – and already I feel sorry for him because there’s never any point in getting attached to Maisie if you’re a bloke.
The party over, I head back to my flat, which is a short walk from Maisie’s – literally three minutes, if that – so it’s never been a cause for worry. Until tonight, because I’m particularly aware of the echo of someone’s footsteps not far behind.
But when I turn, there’s only a man on his mobile, quite far back and completely unaware of me. So I continue, although still somewhat wary. It’s only when his shadow falls across mine that I whirl round in panic, but it’s too late.
He reaches out and grabs me by the throat, nearly lifting me off the pavement, pinning me to the wall.
