Emma by Rosie Clarke

Author:Rosie Clarke
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781448177127
Publisher: Ebury Publishing

Chapter Ten

London amazed me. I’d never imagined it could be so large and noisy. We travelled up on the early train, disembarked amongst the crowds of people flowing in and out of Liverpool Street station, took a bus to Marble Arch, which gave me an opportunity to stare in wonder at the sights, and then spent two hours walking along Oxford and Regent Street. The pavements thronged with people, all of whom seemed to be in a hurry, and crossing the road was a terrifying experience – but I loved the shops.

‘What do you want to do now?’ Richard asked after we’d had a proper three-course lunch in a smart restaurant. ‘We could go to the waxworks if you like – or the zoo? Or would you prefer more shops?’

‘More shops, please,’ I said. I’d been too bewildered by the choices offered to buy anything that morning, but now I’d made up my mind. ‘I think I would like to buy that red wool dress I looked at this morning.’

‘I’ll buy it for your birthday,’ he offered. He looked almost excited at that moment, and I saw the man he might have been if his mind hadn’t been soured by bitterness. ‘I wasn’t sure what to get.’

Richard’s moods swung between wanting to please me, and wanting to punish me for not loving him … for having let another man touch me.

‘You’re already paying for all this … the theatre and everything. Besides, Father gave me some money.’

‘You keep it,’ Richard said. ‘I’ll get you the dress. I want to, Emma. I know I’m a bit of a brute sometimes, but I do love you.’ For a moment he looked as though he really meant it.

It was as close to an apology as I was going to get. I smiled and tucked my arm through his, wanting to be fair to him.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘I can buy some shoes to go with it, can’t I?’

He grinned at me. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s go mad for once. It’ll be a long while before we can do this again.’

We plunged into an orgy of spending, buying not only my dress and shoes, but also a shirt for Richard, leather gloves for Mother, a tie for Father and a warm winter scarf for Gran. Emerging into the coolness of late afternoon, our arms full of parcels, we paused on the pavement and looked for a bus to take us to the hotel Richard had booked for the night.

‘Damn it, we’ll take a taxi,’ he said. ‘If we don’t get a move on, we’ll be late for the theatre.’

I wasn’t really listening. My eye had been caught by a large and expensive car which had just pulled into the kerb. I thought it looked a bit like the one Paul had sometimes driven, only newer, and as the driver got out I saw he was an older man, perhaps fortyish. He was smiling at a very smartly dressed woman, who had also been on a shopping spree judging by the amount of parcels she was carrying.

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