The third of an ongoing series of loosely connected stories. Reading the others is not essential, but will give some background
My second story, Rebecca, was written quite quickly - and I suspect is the poorer for it - but this story, which was completed in draft before I even started on Rebecca, has taken a lot more effort.
It draws together threads from other stories, published as well as those still in draft, so I had to do a lot of planning to make the fabula consistent. Hopefully there are no glaring inconsistencies but any errors that remain are entirely mine.
There is hardly any sex in this one: nevertheless, all participants in sexual acts are well over 18 years old. As in previous stories, the action takes place in the UK over a period of a couple of months, so all idiom, spellings and syntax are "English English."
EMILY
Even in September the interior of St Helen's was draughty. The mist rising off the Thames overnight had made the church feel damp and a little cold, even at ten the following morning. Given the lack of a history of churchgoing for either family, it felt like the very fabric of the building was trying to make us outsiders feel unwelcome, although the vicar and the small congregation were doing their best to counter that impression. I wondered again why my twin sister and her husband had insisted on getting their first-born baptised at all.
The vicar called the baptismal party up to the font for the baptism itself, and I watched the two godparents, strangers to me until yesterday, promise to pray for baby Emily and help her follow Christ. I also wondered how Abby and my brother-in-law knew them.
Other than family, there seemed to be very few people I knew, although I did notice an attractive woman with short red hair, whose mannerisms seemed somehow familiar. It was hard to get a good view though, as she was seated in a pew in a side aisle, partly hidden behind one of the stone pillars lining the nave.
After the service we got the expected welcome from the vicar and members of the regular congregation, all telling us that we would be made very welcome should we wish to return. I looked around for the red-head, to see if I could get the opportunity to find out where I knew her from, but she had disappeared; I presumed she was just another member of the regular congregation, and not someone I knew at all.
I had promised Richard's elderly aunt and her husband a lift back to the house. The air was still chilly, so we left as soon as it was polite, to avoid them standing around in the damp churchyard. Making our way back to the shelter of the large farmhouse that my sister had bought with her husband six months ago, I found mum already there, preparing food in the large warm kitchen while waiting for the rest of the party, who arrived soon after us.
Later, from the other side of the lounge, I stood watching my newly baptised niece, Emily, sleeping peacefully in my sister's arms while I listened to the chamber jazz that her husband had chosen as background music. Various elderly relatives, most of whom I'd not seen since the wedding, cooed over the little one but, other than family, there were very few people I knew.
Mum bustled around in the kitchen with platters of sandwiches and cakes as my brother-in-law plied his friends with his second best single-malt. I felt slightly detached, almost a stranger, having spent so many years out of the country in Germany and Asia on business. The Bill Evans Trio playing "My Foolish Heart" seemed appropriately maudlin.
"Do you know the godparents, Mark?"
I glanced at the slim red-head from the church, who had asked the question. She was stood alongside me, turned away watching the godparents, so I couldn't see her face clearly, but something about her -- especially her voice now I had heard it -- still seemed really familiar and she clearly knew me by name. I was searching my memory to place her when she turned to face me and gave me a heart-stopping quirky smile, removing all doubt as to her identity. "Did you hear me, Mark?"
"Emily!"
She cocked her head to one side and grinned at my obvious discomfort.
"It's been...well, years!" I stammered. Although she had changed a lot, my teenage crush and former best friend was as stunningly beautiful as ever. I noticed that I still found it difficult to breathe around her, let alone think clearly or form a coherent sentence.
"Seven years" she confirmed.
I remembered her trademark unkempt, vermillion mane. "You've changed. Your hair. It's so short! I didn't expect to see you here. But how are you?"
Emily laughed. "I asked about the godparents?"
"Oh yes! No, hardly at all. I met them yesterday for the first time. I've no idea where Abby and Richard know them from - but that seems to be true of nearly all their friends now. They seem nice though. They both dote on Emily. Obviously looking forward to being parents themselves." I gabbled; unnerved by the surprise of seeing her again after so many years.
"Yes, what is she? About five months?"
"If you say so. I'm not very good with bumps." I turned to watch my twin sister cradling her firstborn, her husband's arm around her. I was still amazed that my best buddy at Uni had settled down and was now my brother-in-law. I saw the godmother take little Emily into her arms for a cuddle, then pull a face as she caught the tell-tale smell of a soiled nappy. She shrugged and took Emily upstairs with her as Abby gave her a grateful smile.
I turned my attention back to the very grown-up Emily standing beside me. "Abby mentioned you'd moved away. Scotland, was it? With someone?"
"Paul." she replied, her smile evaporating.
"So how long are you back here for?"
"Permanently. I've got a job in Oxford."
"Oh! That's..." My expression of delight trailed off as I caught her sour mood, feeling guilty at being so pleased she was back. "I'm sorry. I mean it's lovely to see you. Problems with Paul?"
"Something like that! I thought we were good." She took a deep breath. "I don't know how he ever thought he'd manage to keep secrets on a small island in the Hebrides, but his idea of exclusive wasn't the same as mine. We'd only been there 6 months, and I found out through a friend he was banging some slut in Bowmore"
"Shit. I really am sorry. You deserve better."
"Well, it might be karma. I wasn't exactly a good girl at Uni I guess." she shrugged.
I felt a pang, an echo of the jealousy and hurt I used to feel at her promiscuous behaviour as a student, but shrugged it off. "But you didn't promise anyone anything."
She gave me a wry smile. "Mum used to say she thought that my idea of a long-term relationship was a two-night stand."
She turned to briefly hug me, her head tucked under my chin. Before I could react, she had stepped back, her face inscrutable. I had neither the time nor the presence of mind to hug her back, but guessed that she was only too aware that, had she given me more opportunity, I would probably not have willingly let her go.
She looked at me. "And you and romance? Are you here alone?"
"There was someone, Ursula, in Germany."
I continued. "She was perfect. We had a very good two years."
Emily raised one eyebrow. "But you're not together now?"
"No. We..." I stopped, unwilling to admit out loud that Ushi had wanted a permanent commitment, and we had parted, reluctantly, because I had been unable or unwilling to forever close the door on the possibility of a relationship with the woman who had held my heart since sixth form. The woman who was now standing in front of me.
She looked pensive, then, as if reading my mind. "We were so close back then Mark. Why didn't we ever date?"
I thought back to our friendship through sixth form and university. "You didn't say yes!"
