Emily

The third of an ongoing series of loosely connected stories. Reading the others is not essential, but will give some background

My second story, Rebecca, was written quite quickly - and I suspect is the poorer for it - but this story, which was completed in draft before I even started on Rebecca, has taken a lot more effort.

It draws together threads from other stories, published as well as those still in draft, so I had to do a lot of planning to make the fabula consistent. Hopefully there are no glaring inconsistencies but any errors that remain are entirely mine.

There is hardly any sex in this one: nevertheless, all participants in sexual acts are well over 18 years old. As in previous stories, the action takes place in the UK over a period of a couple of months, so all idiom, spellings and syntax are "English English."

EMILY

Even in September the interior of St Helen's was draughty. The mist rising off the Thames overnight had made the church feel damp and a little cold, even at ten the following morning. Given the lack of a history of churchgoing for either family, it felt like the very fabric of the building was trying to make us outsiders feel unwelcome, although the vicar and the small congregation were doing their best to counter that impression. I wondered again why my twin sister and her husband had insisted on getting their first-born baptised at all.

The vicar called the baptismal party up to the font for the baptism itself, and I watched the two godparents, strangers to me until yesterday, promise to pray for baby Emily and help her follow Christ. I also wondered how Abby and my brother-in-law knew them.

Other than family, there seemed to be very few people I knew, although I did notice an attractive woman with short red hair, whose mannerisms seemed somehow familiar. It was hard to get a good view though, as she was seated in a pew in a side aisle, partly hidden behind one of the stone pillars lining the nave.

After the service we got the expected welcome from the vicar and members of the regular congregation, all telling us that we would be made very welcome should we wish to return. I looked around for the red-head, to see if I could get the opportunity to find out where I knew her from, but she had disappeared; I presumed she was just another member of the regular congregation, and not someone I knew at all.

I had promised Richard's elderly aunt and her husband a lift back to the house. The air was still chilly, so we left as soon as it was polite, to avoid them standing around in the damp churchyard. Making our way back to the shelter of the large farmhouse that my sister had bought with her husband six months ago, I found mum already there, preparing food in the large warm kitchen while waiting for the rest of the party, who arrived soon after us.

Later, from the other side of the lounge, I stood watching my newly baptised niece, Emily, sleeping peacefully in my sister's arms while I listened to the chamber jazz that her husband had chosen as background music. Various elderly relatives, most of whom I'd not seen since the wedding, cooed over the little one but, other than family, there were very few people I knew.

Mum bustled around in the kitchen with platters of sandwiches and cakes as my brother-in-law plied his friends with his second best single-malt. I felt slightly detached, almost a stranger, having spent so many years out of the country in Germany and Asia on business. The Bill Evans Trio playing "My Foolish Heart" seemed appropriately maudlin.

"Do you know the godparents, Mark?"

I glanced at the slim red-head from the church, who had asked the question. She was stood alongside me, turned away watching the godparents, so I couldn't see her face clearly, but something about her -- especially her voice now I had heard it -- still seemed really familiar and she clearly knew me by name. I was searching my memory to place her when she turned to face me and gave me a heart-stopping quirky smile, removing all doubt as to her identity. "Did you hear me, Mark?"

"Emily!"

She cocked her head to one side and grinned at my obvious discomfort.

"It's been...well, years!" I stammered. Although she had changed a lot, my teenage crush and former best friend was as stunningly beautiful as ever. I noticed that I still found it difficult to breathe around her, let alone think clearly or form a coherent sentence.

"Seven years" she confirmed.

I remembered her trademark unkempt, vermillion mane. "You've changed. Your hair. It's so short! I didn't expect to see you here. But how are you?"

Emily laughed. "I asked about the godparents?"

"Oh yes! No, hardly at all. I met them yesterday for the first time. I've no idea where Abby and Richard know them from - but that seems to be true of nearly all their friends now. They seem nice though. They both dote on Emily. Obviously looking forward to being parents themselves." I gabbled; unnerved by the surprise of seeing her again after so many years.

"Yes, what is she? About five months?"

"If you say so. I'm not very good with bumps." I turned to watch my twin sister cradling her firstborn, her husband's arm around her. I was still amazed that my best buddy at Uni had settled down and was now my brother-in-law. I saw the godmother take little Emily into her arms for a cuddle, then pull a face as she caught the tell-tale smell of a soiled nappy. She shrugged and took Emily upstairs with her as Abby gave her a grateful smile.

I turned my attention back to the very grown-up Emily standing beside me. "Abby mentioned you'd moved away. Scotland, was it? With someone?"

"Paul." she replied, her smile evaporating.

"So how long are you back here for?"

"Permanently. I've got a job in Oxford."

"Oh! That's..." My expression of delight trailed off as I caught her sour mood, feeling guilty at being so pleased she was back. "I'm sorry. I mean it's lovely to see you. Problems with Paul?"

"Something like that! I thought we were good." She took a deep breath. "I don't know how he ever thought he'd manage to keep secrets on a small island in the Hebrides, but his idea of exclusive wasn't the same as mine. We'd only been there 6 months, and I found out through a friend he was banging some slut in Bowmore"

"Shit. I really am sorry. You deserve better."

"Well, it might be karma. I wasn't exactly a good girl at Uni I guess." she shrugged.

I felt a pang, an echo of the jealousy and hurt I used to feel at her promiscuous behaviour as a student, but shrugged it off. "But you didn't promise anyone anything."

She gave me a wry smile. "Mum used to say she thought that my idea of a long-term relationship was a two-night stand."

She turned to briefly hug me, her head tucked under my chin. Before I could react, she had stepped back, her face inscrutable. I had neither the time nor the presence of mind to hug her back, but guessed that she was only too aware that, had she given me more opportunity, I would probably not have willingly let her go.

She looked at me. "And you and romance? Are you here alone?"

"There was someone, Ursula, in Germany."

I continued. "She was perfect. We had a very good two years."

Emily raised one eyebrow. "But you're not together now?"

"No. We..." I stopped, unwilling to admit out loud that Ushi had wanted a permanent commitment, and we had parted, reluctantly, because I had been unable or unwilling to forever close the door on the possibility of a relationship with the woman who had held my heart since sixth form. The woman who was now standing in front of me.

She looked pensive, then, as if reading my mind. "We were so close back then Mark. Why didn't we ever date?"

I thought back to our friendship through sixth form and university. "You didn't say yes!"

"You'd actually have had to ask, you know; for me to say yes!"

"Would you have said yes, if I had?"

"I don't know. Maybe." She shrugged. "Probably not, though. We had such a good thing going as friends. Perhaps it would have spoiled that."

I decided to take the bull by the horns for once. "So, if you are back permanently, would you like to go out sometime."

She frowned. "I don't know. Paul really messed with my head Mark. I'm sort of off men at the moment; I'm finding it difficult to trust anyone.

She paused. "I don't want to lead you on, let you think there could be something there, you know? I mean I'm not trying to 'friend-zone' you, I'm just trying not to be unfair. If there's anyone I can trust it's you, so there might be something, long term, if we take it really slowly, get to know each other again. I'm still getting myself straight though, so I don't want to make promises."

"OK. As friends then? How about tomorrow?"

She grinned. "Nothing too fancy! How about The Nag's Head on The Bridge? We can sit by the river if it's warm enough."

"Fine! Where are you living? I can pick you up. Is six too early? It'll be dark not long after seven."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Abby observing us from across the room, smiling knowingly to herself.

The meal was good, better than standard pub fare. The Nag's Head had clearly been refurbished since we last came here during holidays from Durham, but it had kept much of the same ambiance.

The damp air from the river began to feel chilly an hour or so after the sun set so we carried our drinks back into the bar. "So!" I said, "Seven years - Joe's wedding, wasn't it?" I suddenly felt very aware of just how long I had spent out of the country away from my family and friends. Even attending Joe and Pip's wedding had only been part of a flying three-day visit home.

"I'm really sorry I couldn't make it back for Pip's funeral. It was so sudden, and I was stuck in Tokyo on business. Was it...?"

"Cancer!" she replied. "Ovarian: it's really 'quiet' apparently. By the time she had any symptoms it had spread everywhere." She looked sombre. "She only lasted another three weeks after they diagnosed and staged her."

She wiped away a tear. "It was horrible. Even with the morphine she was in so much pain it was almost a relief when she slipped away. She was a wonderful sister-in-law. She would have made a great mum too."

She sat quietly for a moment in contemplation, eyes still moist. "Joe was devastated. He moved back in with Mum and Dad for a bit. After he started to get over the shock, he sold the house and just took himself off to the Lake District - I think the house had too many painful memories. He bought an abandoned farmhouse to do up with the proceeds of the sale and her life insurance. At least he was still fairly near Mum and Dad, but he's been almost a total recluse."

"How's he doing now?"

"It's still raw, for all of us really, but he seems a bit better. He volunteers with Mountain Rescue, so he has some company when he feels like it - mainly when they train - and he's writing again. I think there's a new woman in his life too -- well, a girl really!"

I raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I'm not sure whether she's properly 'in his life' though. He brought her up to Islay to stay when I needed rescuing from Paul. Her name's Becky and she's really lovely. But there's something that doesn't add up, things he won't talk about."

"They're entitled to privacy, Em."

"Yes, I get that. They're so clearly besotted with each other, though. But he says they're just friends -- and yet they're certainly intimate. She's quite -- erm -- vocal." She grinned at the memory. "He also won't tell me how they met. It's very strange."

She leaned towards me conspiratorially. "And she's only 23. I don't know how he does it!"

"Oh, I can guess." I replied, smiling. "I used to play rugby with him before he got too old, remember?"

She looked puzzled. "Yes. So?"

"Shower rooms!"

Her eyes suddenly opened wide as she worked out what I meant, then she put her hands over her ears. "Eew! I did not need to know that about my brother, thank you Mark!" she exclaimed, laughing nevertheless.

"Still, I know what you mean about mysteries." I said, "Abby point blank refused to tell me how she and Richard met Emily's godparents."

"I did talk a bit to Sara at the baptism." she said. "Apparently they've always lived around Oxford, but I didn't find out much more."

"Hmm." I answered. "They must know them through mum and dad then. Abby and Richard only moved back from Dublin six months ago. But then, why all the secrecy?"

Emily thought. "One thing that did surprise me though is how close Abby and Sara are. I walked in on them hugging in the kitchen." she looked at me to gauge my reaction, "They're obviously really close. They both had tears in their eyes when they broke apart. There's a deep affection at least - Abby looked, well, grateful maybe?"

I thought for a moment. "Perhaps the bigger mystery is why they had Emily baptised at all."

Em looked confused.

"What I mean is, we have never been a religious family. Mum and dad offered Abby and Richard a church wedding when they married after university, and they both flat out refused; said it would be hypocritical given that neither of them believe."

Emily shrugged, dismissing the topic, then reached across and squeezed my hand. "I've really enjoyed tonight, Mark. It's good to talk about family and friends. Could we do this again? I've missed spending time with you." She winced and rubbed the side of her jaw.

"I'd love to do something again. Are you alright though." I gestured to her mouth.

"Yes. Just an abscess."

"You've seen a dentist?"

She shrugged. "Yes. She drained it and put me on a seven-day course of Amoxicillin, so I'll be fine."

"Should you be drinking on antibiotics?"

"Probably not, but one glass of wine shouldn't hurt." She guiltily pushed the second glass I'd just poured away from her, undrunk. "When are you free to get together again?"

"How about Friday? Dress very casual -- it'll be a surprise. I'll call for you at eight?"

On Friday I turned up at Emily's flat wearing an old pair of jeans, a faded band tee-shirt and a leather jacket. I was pleased that they all still fitted me, so many years after my student days, although I had to admit the jacket was becoming a little snug across the shoulders.

Emily decided that she was overdressed when she saw me, and quickly changed into jeans before we left, leaving me to look around the sitting room of her compact flat. I noticed from her CD collection that her musical tastes had become more eclectic over the intervening years, now including chamber music and jazz in addition to pop.

As we left, she looked around for my car. "Not driving?" she asked.

"Not this time! It's in walking distance."

The Bull's Head was pretty much the same as it had been nine years ago. Cheap beer, pool tables and, by the look of the menu, still only burgers of pizza and very greasy fries.

Emily looked around "I haven't been here since forever; but it's exactly the same!"

I grinned. "I thought you'd appreciate a trip down memory lane. The last time we were here was that last Saturday night, during the summer holiday before we went back to Durham for finals year. So, do you want to eat here, or shall we play some pool first?"

"You want to play pool? -- With me?" she scoffed, laughing.

She was still as good as she used to be, hustling students for drinks in the bars around Durham. After easily winning four games in a row, she took pity on me and asked me if I'd had enough.

Before I could suggest food, I heard the chime of a text alert on her mobile phone.

She glanced at the screen. "It's Kathy. My friend from Islay. Let me see what she wants."

She sat on a bar stool, and I watched her frown. Her face grew still, almost impassive, only her tightly compressed lips giving any indication of her mood as she read the message. "That fucking bastard!" she exclaimed loudly. I saw the bartender glance over at her disapprovingly.

I sat next to her as she turned to look at me, hurt and anger etched on her face. "Kathy says that Paul has got his whore pregnant. He's boasting about it all over Facebook. She wanted to tell me first, in case I saw it for myself."

"But that's all over with, isn't it?" I asked. "You've moved on?"

"Yes, I know! I'm not bothered about Paul. But he knew I wanted a family. We talked about it when we first met, well before we moved to Islay. He said no! He absolutely didn't want children. Not ever! He lied to me, the bastard."

She picked up my glass of scotch and downed it in one. "Can you get us another Mark. I'm going to get drunk. Join me?"

"Err, no." I replied. "I think I'll stay sober; make sure I can look after you when you pass out." She grinned at me. "Ever the Boy Scout, huh!"

An hour later, Emily was slurring and was finding it a little difficult to walk.

"I think it's time to get you home, Em."

She grabbed my arm pulling me towards the door. "Come on then Mark. I want to get fucked!"

I thought about my fantasies, nurtured since sixth-form, of gently making love to the girl I adored from afar. "No Em, not like this. It should be..."

She scowled at me and let go of my arm. "Well, if you won't, I'll go and find someone who will!" she retorted bitterly.

I grabbed her hand. "No! No don't do that Em."

'Drunk or not, better me than a stranger,' I thought. "Shit, OK Em! Yes then! Your place or mine?"

She gave me a wolfish grin. "Mine's closer."

Have you ever had something you have really wanted, dreamt about, for a very long time? Then when you finally get it, it's even better than you expected? Yes? Well, this was nothing like that.

As soon as we were inside her flat, Emily was ripping her clothes off, pushing me towards the bedroom. Once we were both naked, I had no time to appreciate for the first time her beautiful, unclothed body before she pushed me back on the bed, sucked me hard and then straddled me, slamming down to fully impale herself on my cock. This was so different from the romantic first time I had fantasized about for so many years that I couldn't bear to watch her, and I closed my eyes tightly. Pinning my hands down on the mattress, she rode me to her climax almost brutally, then continued until I exploded inside her seconds later.

As I opened my eyes, she looked down at me, resting her palms on my chest as she gasped for breath. "Fuck! I needed that." I saw her expression change, her face went pale before she heaved and turned green. She pushed off me urgently and rushed into the bathroom, throwing up noisily.

'Great!' I thought. 'Romantic first time with the woman of my dreams.'

I got up and poured her a glass of water to rinse her mouth, then gently wiped her face with a warm flannel before helping her to bed where she fell asleep almost immediately, snoring softly.

I considered going back to my flat but laid down beside her on the bed, my mind in turmoil, wondering if this had ruined everything. Eventually I drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, I heard her groan. "Oh, my head!"

"That'll teach you to drink on an empty stomach." I remarked, somewhat more bitterly than I intended.

"Oh God!" She raised herself up. "Oh Mark, I'm so sorry."

"Me too." I smiled wanly.

"This should never have happened, not like this! I've been so selfish.

"No, Em, it's OK! Really! You were smashed."

"Being drunk doesn't excuse it. I should never have used you like that." She took a deep breath. "I don't know what's the matter with me."

I looked at her, deciding to be honest about one thing at least. "Em. You remember you asked me at the baptism why we didn't date? Well, the real reason I didn't ask is that I didn't want to be just another of your conquests - just another one-night stand alongside all the others."

I think then she realised just how hurt I was by her behaviour. She started to cry. "Mark. I think I need to get away for a while. Sort myself out properly and work out what I feel. Maybe then there might be something we can build on. Between us, you know? I know that's what we've both been hedging around; that connection."