Chapter 45
Emma arrived back from taking Nicky to school, stamping as she arrived abruptly in the warm hallway to shake warmth into herself. “Eek, it’s freezing out there!” she commented, shivering on the mat and doing a funny little dance.
Rohan stepped through the hall doorway and watched her, his eyes dulled by longing. Emma registered his silence and stopped, stripping off her sweater and kicking off her boots. As she opened the cupboard door to put it all away, she felt the air behind her disturb with Rohan’s presence. He brushed her long hair off her neck and bent to kiss the soft flesh. Emma exhaled at the welcome feel of his kisses. The night apart after such passionate contact the previous afternoon left them both desperate. “I’ve been waiting for you,” Rohan whispered, teasing her with kisses that ran gently down her neck and onto her shoulder. He pulled her shirt aside and lifted her bra strap, sliding the apologetic grey material down her arm.
“Ro,” Emma whispered, sighing at the feel of his lips against the soft skin under her earlobe. “I really need to sit down and talk to you about a couple of things. I...”
“Later.” Rohan’s kisses were urgent, pressing into Emma’s flesh like a brand. She sighed and lifted her lips to his, feeling the plunging sensation behind her navel and giving in to it. His fingers found the gap between her shirt and the waistband of her jeans, lifting the rough material and caressing her cold skin with his warm fingers. “I love you, Emma,” he whispered, his eyes glazed with desire as he pressed her backwards against the staircase. The wooden spindles dug into her back and neck as Rohan kept control of her, parting her legs with his thigh and working his magic with his tongue in her mouth.
The sudden hammering on the front door made Emma yelp in fear and Rohan hissed in anger. They jumped apart and Emma felt the arrival of the all too familiar guilt, which settled in her heart again and made her feel dirty. She gulped and pushed herself further into the corner, letting the sharp angles behind her bottom give her a false sense of security.
Rohan strode over to the door and yanked it open. “What?”
Emma feared for the poor postman or some random salesman with his subscription to an unknown magazine. As Felicity stepped over the threshold and into Rohan’s hallway, Emma felt her patience snap. “Where have you been?” Felicity screeched into Rohan’s face and she prodded his strong chest with a manicured fingernail. “Why didn’t you call?”
“Not this again! Working!” Rohan spoke through gritted teeth and Emma winced at the warning in his tone. She edged towards the stairs, snagging her shirt on a loose nail, delayed in the extraction of it. Rohan’s words were aimed to hurt. “Same as I was when you bedded that smarmy Irishman!” Rohan took a step back and pointed towards the door. “Yeah, I know about him. But you know what? I actually don’t care. I told you countless times I wasn’t in the market for anything more than friendship. Now, get out! I don’t want you to keep turning up here so please, just leave! The next time you show up, I’ll get the police.”
Felicity postured in her high heels, the fluff around her coat collar dancing in the breeze from the open door. “But what about all those times when we nearly...”
“We didn’t nearly anything! I wasn’t interested and you just wouldn’t take no for an answer Felicity!”
The woman’s perfect blonde hair fluttered in the breeze from the still open door. “Who’s been gossiping, baby? Is it her?” She pointed at Emma, pinned to the wooden staircase by the back of her shirt. “She fancies you and it’s gross! It’s incest. You’re disgusting!” Felicity directed her bile at Emma and Alanya’s voice came echoing back down the ages. They were her stepmother’s words and nausea rose into Emma’s throat at their familiar, biting sound, feeling like a physical blow.
Emma pulled and the shirt ripped, the threadbare fabric giving way suddenly. Emma pounded up the stairs, making it only as far as the bathroom on the second level. She locked herself in and only just made it to the toilet in time, as the threatening nausea exploded her nerves and discharged itself into the toilet basin.
The ruckus continued downstairs in the hallway as Emma sat on the floor of the bathroom and cried. She periodically flushed the toilet to mask the sound of the argument, watching copious amounts of toilet paper swilling down its hungry insides. She sniffed and blew her nose again.
“I never proposed to you!” she heard Rohan yell in indignation and leaned her head back against the wall, figuring he just found out first-hand about his impending marriage to Felicity.
Emma splashed water on her face, dried it on the hand towel and headed to her own bedroom to clean her teeth and lie down on the bed.
As Rohan’s voice continued downstairs in the hallway, Emma put the pillow over her head and blocked out the noise. Wave after wave of nausea bit her insides and she buried herself further into the bed and tried to distract herself from the overwhelming urge to throw up.
“Em?” Rohan’s steady voice disturbed her from a dark fog and Emma struggled free. She sat up in the bed, her hair sticking up on one side and her left eye welded shut with the pressure from the pillow.
“What?” Her voice clanged in the silence, loud to her own ears.
“Your shirt’s ripped.” Rohan’s fingers touched the loose threads and Emma felt the tug.
“Don’t care. Go away.” She pushed out at him hard, her fingers contacting his right leg just above the knee and she heard a hiss.
Rohan slumped down on the side of Emma’s bed, squeezing a section of his leg through his jeans, his face grey with pain. He looked sick, beads of sweat budding on his forehead.
“What did I do?” Emma felt in the wrong, hating the immediate defence mechanism which rose up in her.
“Nothing. It’s fine.” Rohan exhaled through pursed lips and forced a wooden smile back onto his face. “Did you fall asleep through all that yelling?”
“I put the pillow over my head and it seemed to go away.” Emma pushed her unruly hair out of her face. “But the sickness didn’t.”
“No, she went away!” Rohan sounded bitter as he spat the words. “Eventually!”
“I don’t care,” Emma yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. “I feel really tired of it all.”
“She informed me we were apparently engaged, just as my lawyer walked through the gate.” Rohan laughed. “He gave her about twelve reasons why he was inclined to go to the cops and file a complaint about her stalking and then he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled. She gave in and left.”
“You strung her along.” Emma sounded grumpy. “You knew how she felt and you did wrong by her. You ate take-away in your bedroom. How could you not think she’d read into that?”
Rohan looked hard at Emma. “There was nothing physical between us, Em. I made it very clear I wasn’t interested.”
“Well, that’s not what she’s been telling people, including me! I think you liked the attention and particularly enjoyed how it wound me up.”
“Musor! Rubbish!”
“Yeah you did. But I really don’t need any more of her wacko visits, thanks.”
“Geez Em! Don’t let her damage what we’ve got. I’m sick of how she pops up just as its going ok.”
“Well, you’re the one who allows her to drape herself all over you, like at the school...oh crap!” Nausea gripped Emma’s stomach, accompanied by a dull headache. She shoved at Rohan to get past him before she threw up and he groaned in pain as his right knee slipped sideways. Emma slammed the bathroom door behind her, not expecting Rohan to still be there when she emerged, feeling marginally better.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, perched on her bed looking concerned.
“What’s wrong with you?” she retorted rudely. “You jump like a cricket every time you move your leg.”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Well so am I then,” Emma sulked. “But I can’t cope with another visit from Cosmopolitan Barbie today so if she turns up, make sure you do call the cops. Bloody
woman.”
“She won’t come back. Hack’s welcome to her! Looks like he had a grab at everything he thought I valued.” Rohan eyed Emma sideways in accusation and she sighed.
“Mmnnnn, I don’t think he’s interested in Felicity.” Emma face planted into her pillow and heaved out a big muffled sigh. “Ro, I really need to talk to you about something. Well, about two things actually.” The weight of Anton’s legacy pressed down on her chest.
“Yeah, sure, what?” Rohan looked at Emma with concentration etched into his handsome face. She opened her mouth to speak, wondering which particular problem to deal with first, just as his mobile phone rang. Emma groaned.
Rohan lay back against the pillows, keeping his right knee bent and his foot on the floor, the other leg stretched out on the bed. He looked uncomfortable. “Go on. I’ll ignore it.” He wriggled around, removing the trilling object from his pocket, disconnecting the call and turning the sound down.
Emma pushed her face into his side, smelling his warm, clean scent. “Yesterday, when I was almost home,” she began. The phone danced around on top of the bed covers, working itself into a vibrating frenzy. Resignation covered Emma. “Oh, just answer it,” she said, laying back on the bed and feeling her stomach churn with the stress.
“Andreyev!” Rohan snapped into the phone. “Oh, hi.” His tone changed completely and he limped out into the hallway to finish the call. Memories of his post-coital conversation with Felicity pricked at Emma’s security and the nausea flooded her senses and robbed her of practical thought.
“I need to go out.” Rohan’s voice was low as he re-entered the room and he sounded depressed.
“Who this time? Felicity or your mother?” Emma asked, her face pushed into her pillow.
“Neither. I told you, Felicity’s got the message. Mother’s been before the magistrates and they’re holding her while they get psychology reports. It’s more complicated, but that’s the gist of it. I handed the printouts to the leading detective last night and pointed out the plant we both recognised. They’re checking some stuff with the labs. I saw her for a few minutes, which was nice of them to let me. I er...it was hard. My lawyer’s seen her this morning. That’s why he popped round. But it’s not why I have to go out. I have an appointment, Em. I need to go.”
Emma rolled back over to observe her husband, maternal instinct working overtime. His face was locked tight with something other than Felicity’s screamed accusations or his mother’s plight. It left a residue in his eyes and she recognised it.
“Rohan, what’s wrong? Are you in pain?”
The tall, strong Russian bowed his head and looked astounded at Emma’s perception, the surprised expression quickly replaced by shame. Then he nodded and ran his hand across his eyes. Emma got shakily up and stood in front of him, her own problems pushed instantly aside. Worry etched lines into her face as Rohan bit his bottom lip and struggled to form his words. “The travma to my leg is painful. The durak shot me and shattered part of the prosthesis. Now...” Rohan waved his hand at his knee to accentuate his distress. “My leg bleeds. The call was from my doctor at the clinic. I left a message for him this morning. He wants to see me now.”
“Then let’s go.” Emma strutted from the bedroom and down the stairs, listening to the agonising sound of Rohan limping behind her. “Want me to drive?” she asked, flinging a sweater over her shoulders and pushing her feet into her boots.
“Yes please.” Rohan’s progress down the long garden to the garage compound at the end of the orchard seemed much slower than usual, but he refused Emma’s help, forcing her to walk ahead of him along the crazy paved stones leading to the steps down to the garage. Emma wanted to tell him not to be so foolish but resisted, suppressing her maternal instinct under a need to respect her husband’s feelings of protracted uselessness. She beat down the desire to berate him for leaving it a full two days before summoning help, wanting to chastise him like she would her son. But Rohan wasn’t six years old. He was a full grown man with an ego that currently stuttered and cringed under her concern. Leave it, she told herself.
Emma hopped into the driver’s side of the large Mercedes and started the engine, hearing the soft purr as the car vibrated with life underneath her. She eased it out of the garage and Rohan limped over to pull the garage door down after her. Emma put the hand brake on to get out and do it herself, then caught the look of determination and concentration in his face. “Ok,” she said to her reflection in the rear view mirror. “This isn’t about you. Get it?” Her pale face and messy, dark curls stared back at her, wide brown eyes condemning her for the seven years they’d been apart, leaving Rohan to struggle alone.
Emma rolled the car forward while Rohan opened and closed the huge gate onto the lane behind Newcombe Street. He got into the passenger seat bum first and closed the door behind him, his face flushed from the effort.
“Right then.” Emma turned a beautiful hundred watt smile on him. “Tell me where to go and how to get there, and I’ll be your chauffeur for this morning.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen your chauffeuring!” Rohan snorted. “Just don’t take it up professionally.”
“That wasn’t my fault!” Emma stuck her nose in the air and revved the engine. “I parked near the bushes and the wind blew them and they kinda scratched up and down the side a bit. I moved it as soon as I heard the first screech of the branches on the metal...” Emma turned down the lane and waited at the entrance to Newcombe Street. “It’s only a few scratches. Which way?”
“It needs a whole new wing! Left here. Then right onto Nithsdale Avenue, then left at the end.”
“No,” Emma whinged, “not helpful! Just tell me one instruction at a time. And remind me, which foot do I brake with?”
Rohan looked at her in terror and she saw him grip the door handle, the fingers of his left hand turning white. “What?”
Emma put her head back and laughed, watching the colour flood back into Rohan’s rugged features. “Got ya!” she said in an irritating sing-song voice.
“Whatever!” he smirked, realising she had successfully distracted him from the discomfort in his stump. “You wreck it and you’ll be off my Christmas card list.”
Emma snorted. “I bet you don’t even give Christmas cards! You’re far too grumpy.”
Rohan smiled and leaned his left elbow on the window ledge. “You know me too well.” He ran his teeth over his thumbnail and Emma felt his eyes on her. “Em...”
“Which way now?” she interrupted him, not wanting to go where the conversation was bound to take them right then. “Please tell me I don’t have to swing this thing round a multi-storey carpark? I don’t think either of us will come out unscathed.”
“Straight on and no.”
“There’s other parking then? Thank goodness.”
“Yeah.” Rohan reached into the glove box and pulled out the orange parking disk. Emma immediately felt terrible about making a big deal of the parking. You just don’t know when to shut up, she berated herself. She sensed Rohan watching her again, his blue eyes searching for signs of revulsion or diminishing respect. Emma glanced sideways at him, her eyes narrowed and sultry.
“Free parking,” she sighed, as though he just donated a month’s worth of chocolate ice cream to a diet convention. “Every girl’s dream. I think I’ll keep you just for that.”
She saw Rohan smirk and shake his head. Emma exhaled slowly, controlling the nervous whoosh of air so he couldn’t hear her, relieved at having surmounted the obstacle of using the disabled badge. “Saw that,” he said without even looking at her. “I’m not fragile. My ego won’t smash into pieces, not today at any rate.”
“Liar!” she bit at him and reached across the centre console, laying her hand over his clenched fist. Rohan squeezed her fingers and then put her hand carefully on the steering wheel.
“Two hands in my Merc, woman! Neposlushnyy!”
“Naughty yourself!” she commented back and he laughed, his eyes glinting w
ith pleasure at her command of his mother tongue.
“Given half a chance, I will be.” Rohan looked more like his old self as he smiled at Emma, his colour returning to normal and the stress leaving his eyes. But as they approached the sprawling city, his body tensed with hidden emotions and the tell-tale vein pulsed in his neck.
“How do I get to the hospital from here?” Emma asked as they whizzed past the city sign.
“You don’t need to.” Rohan’s voice became clipped, issuing orders as he once did, Emma obeying with frustrating slowness. The huge car swung around narrow streets until they came to the clinic Rohan indicated.
“I’m not sure I can squeeze this giant car into that tiny space.” Emma’s face became pinched with worry. She looked around hopefully. “There aren’t any disabled spaces. You lied to me.”
“I’ll do it. Shift over.”
Emma pushed herself over the centre console, banging her backside on the gear lever, hand brake and everything in between. She sat in the passenger seat and rubbed her buttock. Rohan heaved himself into the driver’s seat, struggling less as he led with his left side. “Bloody hell, woman!” He cranked the seat back to admit his long body and legs, shooting Emma a look of disbelief. “I was kissing the windscreen!” he exclaimed.
“And you could have been kissing me instead.” She smiled and turned her full beauty on him, making Rohan pause as he lifted his painful right leg into place.
“You’re very distracting.” He cleared his throat and closed the car door.
Emma watched carefully as he backed the huge vehicle into the tiny spot, leaving only enough room for them to squeeze out either side. He did it with practiced skill, but she was fascinated by the use of his left foot on the brake, allowing his prosthetic responsibility only for the accelerator. She marveled how she failed to notice that before.
The cars either side of them sported orange badges on the dashboard and Emma held Rohan’s up with the unspoken question in her face. He nodded and she turned the dial to show their arrival time and slipped it in front of her, face up against the windscreen. They poured themselves out of the tight space, Emma getting her sweater pocket caught around the wing mirror and hearing a foreboding rip as she yanked it off. Rohan fared better, stepping sideways and holding onto the car chassis, fitting his neat butt through a miniscule gap with ease. They met at the bonnet of the car and Rohan caught Emma’s arm as she waited for him. “Em.” He fought for his words with difficulty. “I...er...I don’t know if you’ll want to come in with me.” He chewed at his upper lip with his teeth. “It’s pretty shocking.”
“Is that why you never told Felicity?” Emma reached up, feeling the rough stubble of his face under her palm.
Rohan’s lips parted in surprise and after a moment’s thought, he nodded. “Yeah.”
Emma smiled. “You know she thinks you’re impotent, hey?”
Rohan’s mouth opened wide in shock. “Really?” He sounded so gutted, Emma laughed. Rohan slapped her on the backside. “Bitch!”
“Don’t blame me!” she laughed. “Do you want me to put her straight?”
Rohan sighed and shook his head. “No thanks. I’m fine.” He kept his eyes trained on Emma’s, his brow knitting slightly as she reached for his hand and joined their fingers.
“Guess what?” she whispered against the cacophony of traffic on the main road. Rohan tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “You’ve got a son,” Emma said, binding her fingers more tightly around her husband’s. “And Nicky loves you, no matter what. So let’s go and get this leggy thing fixed up so you can play with him after school.”