Chapter 39
Emma woke around five in the morning, confused about where she was. The room smelled masculine and unfamiliar and Emma crept downstairs for a drink of water, barefoot and dressed only in a sweater and knickers. Moonlight lit her way enough and she had moments of stress when a floorboard or stair tread creaked, fearful of meeting Allaine’s husband for the first time as a suspected burglar. The long, galley kitchen was at the back of the house and Emma stood at the window and watched the daylight blooming from a far off corner of the earth, not yet reaching its pale fingers far enough to touch Market Harborough. The frost on the ground reflected the full moon outside, twinkling like a carpet of glitter. Emma sipped her water slowly and then she saw him.
He stood like an apparition in the garden, leaned casually against the wooden shed. Emma watched as a red glow from a cigarette flamed and then disappeared. She sat her glass on the counter with precision and carefully unlocked the back door. The blast of wintry English winter air assailed her bare feet and legs as she stepped onto the freezing concrete slabs outside. Clicking the button on the Yale lock so she could get back in again, Emma closed the door quietly and ran across the frozen grass, the prickly stiff blades crunching under her toes.
“Hey there.” He blew cigarette smoke over Emma’s head and then clasped her to him, the zipper of his coat scratching her face. “So the shit’s hit the fan then?” His soft tone accentuated the beauty of his lilting Irish accent as Emma nodded slowly against the front of his coat.
“I thought you died,” Emma sniffed into his chest, wrapping her arms around his warm body.
Placing his cigarette between his lips, Christopher bent and seized Emma, hauling her off the cold ground and nestling her in arms that felt reassuringly strong and secure. He carried Emma without great effort, to the very end of the garden furthest from the house. Blessed with the same quarter acre site as Rohan’s place further along the street, the long thin garden boasted plenty of places to hide unnoticed in the darkness. In a small orchard crafted by Allaine’s green fingers, Christopher sat down on a metal bench which creaked under their combined weight. He shifted Emma so she sat sideways across his thighs and pulled his cigarette from between his lips.
Taking one final drag and exhaling the nicotine laden air, Christopher stubbed it out on the side of the bench and lobbed the dog end backwards into the lane behind. He pulled Emma into his shoulder and cradled her, saying nothing.
It was freezing and the scent of the cigarette got into her stomach. Emma fixed cold fingers across her mouth and heard Christopher chuckle. “Sorry, darlin’. If ya come away with me, I’ll give it up.”
“Liar,” Emma smirked and he laughed.
“Aye, yer probably right. Why give up the things yer enjoy, like sex and smokes. I’ll be a long time dead. They seem like a nice family you’re with. Interestin’ stuff in their bins though. I...”
“Don’t!” Emma sat up, her eyes glistening with moisture in the moonlight. She struggled as though trying to get up.
“It’s ok, we won’t talk about anything you don’t wanna. Just sit with me a while. Yeah?”
Emma nodded and snuggled back down into Christopher’s lapel, feeling his rough fingers rubbing warmth into her bare thighs. “I’m glad you’re safe,” she said, white mist escaping from her lips with her words and leaving a dissipating trail. “I worried about you. You look as banged up as Rohan.” Black stitches held his eyebrow together and his lip was swollen on one side. A black eye and another cut across the bridge of his nose evidenced his fight with Rohan, plus whatever happened afterwards.
“Ach! You’ve enough of your own worries to be goin’ on with. Don’t be mindin’ about me.”
A bat soared overhead, visible in Emma’s peripheral vision but gone when she tried to focus on it. An owl hooted and she sat up as the cold began to take hold. Christopher stroked her face and pressed their foreheads together. “I’d give ya my coat but I’m not stayin’. I came to say goodbye.”
“How did you know I’d see you?” she asked and he smiled, his teeth white against his dark face.
“I didn’t. But I’m glad to get the chance to say it to ya.”
“How can you do this? Staying out here in the dark.” The bat swooped nearer, curiosity driving it to investigate with its sonar. “Don’t you get scared?” Emma crouched lower, pushing her face into Christopher’s shoulder.
“No. Darkness is a state of mind,” he whispered.
“I’m leaving here next weekend,” Emma stated, the chattering of her teeth acting as a reminder that she needed to go inside.
“No, you’re not. Don’t go back to that hole, Emma, I’m tellin’ ya. I’ll fetch ya and bring ya right back, so don’t push me. It’ll be a waste of those train tickets in yer coat.”
“You don’t know I bought train tickets!” Emma complained and her companion chuckled.
“I do, so. And I know what else yer bought too, see.”
Emma groaned. “I can’t stay here, not with Rohan.”
“Aw youse two pair of eejits. You’ll work it out. But yer don’t have to stay with him if yer don’t want to.”
“I know. He said today he wanted to give me money to support Nicky but...”
“No, not that, although so he should; the child’s his son. Now he knows about him anyhoo.” Christopher left his reprimand hanging in the air which spangled with floating water molecules.
“It’s going to snow, isn’t it?” Emma asked, sounding like a child.
“Aye.” Christopher kissed her frozen forehead and rested his chin on her hair. “But listen. Just wait a few days. Someone’s been lookin’ for ya. Let them come and talk to ya.”
“No! Who?” Emma looked alarmed.
Christopher smiled. “D’ya trust me, Em?” He waited a heartbeat until she nodded. “Then do as I ask. Wait for him to talk to ya. You’ve led him a merry dance up and down the country to end up on his own front doorstep. So just give the man a break and wait it out. For me. Please?”
“Is he nice?” Emma asked, turning her bottom lip down in a sulk.
“Who cares?” Christopher snorted. “He’s somethin’ to show ya. So you’ll wait?” Emma nodded in agreement, although from the set of her shoulders, reluctantly. “Right then. You’ve to go in before you catch yer death and I’ve somewhere to be.”
Emma stood up and shifted from foot to foot in the icy grass, the biting cold attacking her exposed flesh. Christopher rose from the bench and wrapped his scarf more tightly around his throat. Then he put his hands on Emma’s shoulders and observed her one last time. “Goodbye, Emma Andreyev,” he breathed, sadness creeping into his dark eyes. “I wish I hadn’t fallen in love with ya, but hey, shit happens.” He leaned forward and placed soft lips over hers. Her mouth opened in surprise and Christopher flicked his tongue over hers in a tantalisingly short dance of lust and promise. Emma closed her eyes and felt the flare in her stomach, the faint smell of cigarettes wafting round her in a haze.
She opened her eyes the moment he disconnected from her, feeling a cold, numbing emptiness surround her soul. Already he was gone, nothing but a slight movement in the darkness down near the bottom fence. Emma peered, hoping for one last sighting of her handsome Irishman, untameable and unstoppable in his constant questing for something only he understood. She raised her hand in a last wave before she turned, hearing the slightly strange hoot of an owl nearby and wondering if it was him.