The Trouble With Emma by Katie Oliver Read Free Book Online Page B

leggings, faded from black to grey after numerous washings. “A proper tracksuit is
always
a good thing to have.”
    “If you say so,” Martine sighed. “I’ll be here.”
    “You don’t sound very enthusiastic,” Emma observed with a frown. “If you don’t really want them…”
    “Of course I do!” the girl assured her. “Don’t be silly.” She managed a convincing smile. “After all, I owe you, Miss Em, more than I could ever repay,” she added earnestly. “You saved my life after dad died. I’ll never forget it. I don’t know what I’d of done without you.”
    Emma returned her smile. “I only did what anyone would’ve.” Her smile faded. “Losing a parent is hard, the hardest thing in the world. I know that only too well.”
    Martine nodded and swallowed back the lump that rose in her throat. “I know you do. We all miss your mum.”
    “Thanks. And we all miss Mr Davies. Right,” Emma said briskly, “I’d best get a move on. I’ll see you back here in –” she consulted her wristwatch. “An hour.”
    Emma and Elton set out on their walk and headed down the road to Litchfield. Hedgerows crowded in on either side of them, leaves still glistening with water, and the ground was soggy beneath their feet. But the sun was shining and the rain had stopped, and that was enough.
    Litchfield teemed with the usual mix of tourists and locals as she and Elton made their way down the high street. She paused to let the dog take a wee. Although Emma saw a couple of neighbours and lifted her hand to wave, there was thankfully no sign of Mrs Cusack or her clever, hat-designing niece.
    You’re not being fair
, she scolded herself.
You don’t even
know
Isabella
.
You’re just – admit it! – a tiny bit jealous.
Still – there was something about the girl, a vague air of secretiveness that struck her straight away.
    Isabella Fairfax was keeping something back, she was sure of it.
    Elton finished his wee, and they resumed their walk. The shop windows boasted ‘end-of-season SALE’ and ‘half off!’ signs as the swimsuits and beach totes, the cheap plastic sunglasses and flip-flops were cleared out to make way for the autumn inventory. It wouldn’t be long before the first chill invaded the air and leaves rimed with frost crunched beneath their feet.
    But for now, the sun was warm and the sky was blue and cloudless – it was a perfect late-summer day by the sea.
    Almost as if she were drawn to it, Emma found herself once again standing at the far end of Mulberry Street, gazing up at Crossley Hall. The workmen were already up there; she could hear the sound of band saws and nail guns, hammering, and the faint strains of Radio 1 coming from someone’s portable Roberts.
    “What do you say we go up and have a closer look, Mr E?” Emma asked, and glanced down at the pug. He wagged his curly tail enthusiastically in answer.
    She set off with the dog up the hill, until, a short time later, they arrived in front of the Hall. The gates were firmly shut. Emma peered through and gazed up at the house, curious to see more; but the tall windows looked down on her, revealing nothing of their secrets, and the shrubbery and hedges prevented her seeing anything of interest.
    Her hand closed over one of the palings as she – gingerly – tried to push the gate open. But it didn’t budge.
    “Oh, well, Elton,” she said, and turned away, “our curiosity will have to wait. It’s time we headed back home.”
    But the dog planted his paws firmly on the pavement and refused to move. A low, menacing growl emanated from his throat and his eyes were fixed on something he saw on the other side of the gate. Every hair bristled.
    Emma followed his gaze. “It’s only a squirrel, you silly boy. Come on.”
    She tugged gently at the lead, but Elton didn’t budge. He wanted that squirrel.
    “Come on, Mr E,” she said again, and tugged at his lead a bit more firmly. “You can’t go in there. Let’s go home.”
    But he