Chapter 20
“Where’s my fiancé?” Felicity postured in the entrance to Nicky’s classroom, hands on hips as the children divided around her.
“Work,” Emma replied, blushing with guilt at the memory of their early morning romp. Felicity saw the emotion in her eyes and honed in on it.
“You dirty little whore!” she hissed. “I know your game. That’s disgusting! He’s your brother! If you’ve done anything to seduce him, I’ll make you sorry!”
Emma opened her mouth to retort, halted by a tug on the bottom of Rohan’s borrowed jacket. She looked down, appalled to see her son’s white face. Nicky looked sick. “Mummy, I don’t want to go to school today. I don’t feel well.” He flicked his eyes towards Felicity and the dislike was apparent.
“Come on, Nick,” Mo urged, yanking on his friend’s arm. “Sid’s brought his footy ball for playtime. It’s gonna be radical!”
Nicky looked conflicted and Emma’s eyes flashed with anger. “Come on baby,” she said to her son, ignoring the woman in front of her. “Let’s get your coat hung up and go in. I’ll stay with you for a minute.”
Nicky looked doubtful and walked into the classroom, clinging onto Emma’s hand. It took a while for him to settle and Mrs Clarke was so kind, it brought tears to Emma’s eyes. The teacher even ignored the black dog, who flopped down in a corner and went to sleep, much to the amusement of the children. Emma emerged from the classroom an hour into the day, having been allowed to stay for show-and-tell time. Sid showed his soccer ball with extreme pride, autographed by his uncle who used to play as the goal keeper for Chelsea. The ball looked a little worse for wear, but Nicky and Mo seemed keen to get their hands on it so Sid was thrilled. He swayed cutely from side to side and kept his ball on the carpet in front of him during story time and Farrell cast a propitious eye over it occasionally.
Escaping through the front doors, Emma was amazed to hear Felicity calling her name. She whirled round on the spot, aware that any exchange would be viewed by all the Year 3 classrooms. “Leave me alone!” she hissed. “You’re crazy.”
“And you’re a dirty little tramp!” Felicity bit back, her eyes blazing. “I don’t know where you came from, but you need to go back there. I met with Alanya yesterday. She was most interested in your sudden appearance. She knows what you are; nothing but a filthy hooker. She told me how she threw you out when you got pregnant with your precious son. You got knocked up by some spotty teenager and then ran off with him. I told her you listed Rohan’s brother as the father and she was very intrigued. You make me sick. Stay away from my future husband; he’s not interested in you, bitch!”
Emma’s breath seemed to lodge in her chest, failing to release oxygen to her brain. She felt lightheaded. “You set Alanya on me?” Her voice had an edge of hysteria. Farrell growled low in his chest and Felicity took a precautionary look in his direction before speaking.
“Of course I did. She likes me. We meet for coffee. She said you were always a troublemaker and led her boys astray. She blames you for her broken relationship with Rohan’s brother. If it wasn’t for you, she could have been with him when he died. You’re poisonous and I’m going to make you pay!” Felicity stepped back, huffing slightly. Emma was obviously stunned by the bile in the other woman’s voice and failed to reach for her usual retorts. She raised her hand to slap Felicity round the face but restrained herself.
“You set Alanya on me?” she repeated, defeat in her voice. “I can’t believe even you would do that to a child.”
“You’re pathetic, bitch. What are you talking about; setting her on a child? You’re everything my mother-in-law says. You’re crazy. Why don’t you go back to where you came from and drop dead!” Felicity’s eyes flashed with something akin to insanity. Her face was a ghoulish mask of fury and Emma took a step back, knowing she would lose a physical battle with this crazy woman. There was little fleshly restraint for the clinically insane. A few faces popped over the window sills of the Year 3 classrooms and Emma backed down.
“Leave me alone,” she said, her voice strong but cold. “Don’t speak to me again.” She turned once to make her message clear. “And if you ever speak to my son, I’ll kill you.”
Felicity blanched and then laughed, as though Emma had confirmed everything Alanya said about her. Emma walked home feeling sick and ill, determined to resist all Rohan’s advances from now on. His girlfriend was seriously unhinged and Emma’s priority was Nicky. As soon as her money came through from the benefits office, she and her son would head north again, to reclaim her council house from the smack heads.
The handsome stranger was waiting for her when she returned home, standing outside the green front gate and resting his backside on the picket fence. Emma saw him from a distance away, mistaking him for someone else’s guest until she got closer and realised. He gazed at her with a lazy smile, all six feet in height of him, dark hair cropped close to his head and the brownest eyes she had ever seen.
“Hallo, how are ye?” He smiled. His eyes flashed like glowering coals and Emma couldn’t help the ready smile she returned him. “I was after yer man, Rohan, but I guess you’ll do instead.” His strong Irish brogue was distinctly Belfast in the way he dragged his vowels out.
“He’s not back until later. I can take a message.” Emma watched as the dog strained on his leash to get to the man, wagging his tail and greeting him like an old friend. He smiled his wide, doggy grin and let his pink tongue slip from the side of his face.
“Hey there, Farrell,” the visitor said. “How’re you doin’?” He looked up at Emma from his position smoothing the excited dog and gave her a lazy grin from underneath sweeping black eyelashes. Upright he seemed even taller as he stuck his hand out towards her. “Christopher,” he said politely.
Emma reached out and touched his skin with her cold palm, feeling the flare of attraction arc between them. It was unexpected and she beat it down. “Emma,” she replied, recognising a man rarely denied what he wanted. “It’s freezing out here. You should probably come in.”
Emma stripped off Rohan’s borrowed jacket and left it on the arm of the sofa in the hallway. Christopher removed his shoes as she kicked off her boots. “Drink?” she asked him, playing the bountiful hostess in her borrowed abode. Farrell rushed through to his bowl and checked for food, before ploughing his face into his water dish. Emma laughed and pushed at his tail with her toe. “You just run a marathon or something, boy?”
The tail wagged like a sail and water slopped in the vicinity of his bowl. When he was finished, the dog took himself off into the corner of the kitchen and hurled himself down in his squashy bed with an enormous sigh and something of a grumble. When Christopher turned laughing eyes in his direction, the tail thumped on the tiled floor in a staccato beat, while Farrell’s brown eyes smiled his pleasure.
“He really likes you,” Emma commented, busying herself with the kettle and mugs.
“Sure yeah.” Christopher bobbed down next to Farrell’s bed and the dog moaned and rolled over on his side, hinting heavily that a belly scratch would be in order. The man obliged and the dog looked disappointed when he stopped rubbing and stood up. “Na, that’s your lot,” he said, his dark eyes smiling seductively at Emma. She felt a rush of blood and recognised it as a response to flattery, difficult to ignore. No, no, no, she told herself. I’m not going there! My life is complicated enough with Rohan. Thoughts of Felicity’s possessive kisses dared Emma to trifle with the Irishman out of spite.
Christopher kept his eyes trained on Emma’s face as she fumbled around with coffee and handed his to him. He deliberately brushed her fingers in a way which caused her to almost drop the mug and then he smiled openly.
“Are you trying to seduce me?” she asked him, putting a defiant tilt into her chin.
“Absolutely!” he replied.
“But you met me five minutes ago. Have you no shame?” Emma sounded scandalised.
“Rohan said he had a kid sister so I though
t you were probably fair game. Although you know he’d kill me for trying.”
“Kid sister?” Emma sighed and shook her head, Felicity’s bile colouring her view of life.
“Are you not then?” Christopher’s Irish accent was lyrical and soft, lulling Emma into a dangerous state of don’t-care.
“I’m his stepsister.” The word tasted nasty on her lips.
Christopher blinked, long black lashes grazing his cheeks as he sized her up. “You’re very beautiful. Anyone ever told you that?”
Emma let out a snort of spontaneous laughter. “You are dreadful. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“Hell yeah! Me mammy says it often to me.” He raised his voice to do an impression of a high pitched older woman. “She says, ‘Chris! You’re a feckin’ eejit!’ Only I can’t do her exact voice as she’s deeper, like a man who’s smoked fifty a day since his third birthday...”
Emma laughed and put her hand over her mouth. “Is there no end to your wit?”
“Na, I have to say not.”
Emma shook her head and sipped her hot drink, the moment turning suddenly awkward. Christopher observed her from under his eyelashes with a frightening astuteness. “So, can I sit down or do I have to stand on ceremony the whole time?” He smiled and Emma pointed to the two seater couch at the end of the kitchen.
“No, sorry. Sit down. It’s not my house and I’m not used to having...it doesn’t matter.” She followed him to the seat and squashed herself into the corner of it, avoiding the tantalising touch of his thigh against hers in the small space. Guilt seized her chest at the sight of Rohan’s blue sweater lying across the seat of one of the stools at the breakfast bar. She knew without touching it what it smelled like and how its rough, woolly surface might feel. It condemned her sudden need for physical contact and Emma frowned without realising. She looked up, finding Christopher watching her.
“I don’t know when Ro will be back,” Emma smiled apologetically. “Was he expecting you?”
Christopher shook his head. “Not here, no.”
“Oh. Do you want me to try and get in touch with him?”
“Do ya know his number?”
“Er...no, sorry.”
The man stretched out his long legs and sipped his drink. Emma observed him covertly from under her lashes, admiring the smooth shaven skin and the neat dark hair which barely touched the top of his shirt collar. He wore clothes that were smart casual, exuding a confidence which left her in awe. “Tell me about yerself, Emma,” he said soothingly and she felt herself tighten, not wanting to betray her poverty stricken lifestyle to a stranger.
“Not much to tell.” She closed down, her face shutting like a portcullis, desperate to keep this attractive man out of her head. She slammed a gate on Felicity’s accusations.
“Tell me about you. How do you know Ro and what was your meeting about?”
Christopher turned towards Emma, shifting himself in his seat so he half-faced her. He smiled with veiled approval at her fencing tactics and nodded. “Ok, have it your way. I’ve known Andreyev three years and worked on the same projects as him quite a few times. He’s a good man, sharp as a knife and knows how to use one. We have a healthy respect for one another. Will ya come on a date wit’ me whilst I’m in town?”
“Pardon?” Emma’s face registered her surprise. “How did we get from you telling me how long you’ve known Rohan, to you asking me out?”
“Easy.” Christopher placed his drink carefully on the floorboards and leaned across to stroke Emma’s cheek. “I like you. Come on a date wit’ me.”
“No! Don’t be ridiculous.” Emma’s emotions flip flopped with confusion and fear. Christopher edged closer to her and Emma felt her heart beginning to pound in her chest. “I’m not going anywhere with a total stranger!” She resisted as his arms edged around her shoulders. Christopher pulled her towards him and she smelled aftershave and mint as he leaned forward. She didn’t expect him to follow through but his lips on hers were firm, different to Rohan’s soft kisses. Emma felt a flush of excitement, followed quickly by anger. “Get off me! This is stupid; I don’t even know you!” Emma slid off the sofa, putting a safe distance between her and the confident male.
Christopher sat forward and seemed to rethink his game plan. He stood up. “Sorry. I’ve imposed on ya. It was stupid. You’re gorgeous and it made me forget my head.” He took a step forward and Emma reversed further until her backside rested against the dishwasher. “I’m not married. I’m not in a relationship and I am real interested in you. Come on a date with me tomorrow night. We’ll go for dinner and see how it goes.”
Emma looked indignant and Christopher carried on with his gentle persuasion, moving towards her at a slow pace. One step, two steps. He stood in front of her, forcing her to crick her neck to look up at him. “Meet me tomorrow night,” he breathed, leaning in and kissing her neck. “Seven o’clock at the motel on the corner of Welland Park Road. If yer show up, we’ll go for dinner. If you don’t, I’ll be heartbroken about our missed opportunity.” He stood up and winked at her. “But I’ll live.”
Emma lifted her knee to give Christopher a well-deserved whack in the groin. He blocked her with his thigh and laughed out loud. Then he stroked the dog’s curly head in a circular motion and walked through to the hallway. She listened to him slip his shoes on, do up the laces and leave, blowing her breath through pursed lips. “What the hell just happened?” she asked the dog. Farrell sat up with his fluffy ears pricked and glanced hopefully at his leash. “Who was that guy and how come you’re such a rubbish guard dog?”
Farrell snooshed a horrid wet sneeze from his nostrils and wiped his nose on his paw. “Useless!” Emma grunted and went out to the hall to lock the front door. Her hand shook as she pushed the lock down on the Yale, not sure why she did that. “Bloody hell!” she exclaimed, leaning back against the door, bemused by the small smirk which turned her lips upwards and sparkled in her eyes. “Ro’s marrying a crazy who wants me dead and I’ve just come home to her twin.”