She woke the following morning to the insistent sound of her phone ringing in the kitchen where she’d left it charging. She groaned and rolled out of bed, cursing the caller for their inconsideration for choosing to disturb her at… What time was it? Oh, ten a.m. on a Sunday morning. Her heart leapt to her mouth as she anticipated hearing Matt’s smooth, upbeat tones.
‘Hello?’
‘Ah, Emilie, at last! Why haven’t you been answering your phone? Have you read my emails?’
Emilie glanced over to the coffee table where she had left her laptop, which she hadn’t returned to after listening to Matt’s voicemails.
‘Erm, no, not yet Lucinda. Sorry. Just give me a minute whilst I…’
‘It doesn’t matter now that I have you on the phone. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve arranged a meeting for you with a friend of mine next Thursday. He loves the work you’ve been doing on the Lucinda Loves…Desserts cookery book and wants to talk to you about a possible collaboration on his own culinary masterpiece, which will take in recipes from his childhood around the south coast of Italy and Sicily. If I recall correctly, Italian cookery is a specialism of yours. I assume you’ll be available for such an assignment?’
‘Er, yes, yes, of course, thank you, but how…’ Emilie grabbed her hair and tossed it behind her shoulder as she scrambled to the kitchen bench to find a pen to take down the details.
‘Now, make sure you take a careful note of the arrangements,’ preached Lucinda in her familiar straightforward tone. ‘Carlos Romani has a busy schedule, so please make sure…’
‘Carlos Romani? Wow! But how does he… Who…?’
‘Surely even you’ve heard of the celebrated movie star turned Michelin-starred TV chef?’
‘No, no, that isn’t what I meant. Of course I’ve heard of him, but how did he find out about my work? I haven’t even sent any proofs of the Lucinda Loves…Desserts shoot over to you yet.’
‘Ah, that’s where I have a little confession to make. I have to admit to being astonished at how much your work improved throughout the Cornwall assignment, Emilie. I don’t mind confessing that I was dismayed at your initial haphazard approach to the shoot when you arrived in Padstow, never mind the debacle when you fell onto the floor with a cardboard box attached to your foot. But over the weeks, your work and your attitude improved beyond all expectations.
‘I suspect your photographic talents were already there, lurking below the surface, but we don’t need to go into the reasons for that. You have the capacity to be a highly sought-after photographer, whether you decide to stay at the Dexter Carvill agency or go freelance. Yes, Marcus did tell me you about your dilemma. However, I didn’t want to build up your hopes before I’d had the chance to talk to Carlos, so I borrowed a few of your photographs…’
‘You borrowed a few of my photographs…? How?’
And for the first time since she had met Lucinda she heard a hint of embarrassment creep into her voice.
‘Forgive me, Emilie. I should have asked your permission first but, as I said, I didn’t want to cause you any disappointment. I took the liberty of copying a selection of your best photographs from your memory stick whilst we were staying at Craiglea Manor and then returned it the next day. I didn’t think you’d notice, and if Carlos decided your work wasn’t to his taste then there was no harm done. It is still far from a done deal but he’s very enthusiastic. I predict a bright future is on the horizon for you.’
‘No…harm…done…’ Emilie faltered, her emotions swinging from euphoria at the approaching meeting with the hottest TV chef on the screen at the moment and the chance of a lifetime to work on his foreign shoot before crashing back to earth as she realised what Lucinda had done in order to pull off the surprise.
She was grateful, but mingled with that was annoyance at her presumptuousness, relief that it hadn’t been Matt who had borrowed her flash drive, then finally a harsh whoosh of guilt that she hadn’t trusted him. She didn’t know what Matt had been doing in the camper van that night. However, she should have known he would never have used her work without seeking her express permission beforehand, whilst perhaps it was exactly the sort of thing Lucinda would do, although, as it turned out, with the best of intentions. And, at the end of the day, Lucinda was paying for the photographs anyway so they were hers to borrow.
‘Thank you, Lucinda. I’m…’
‘No need to thank me – the credit is all yours. All the details are in my email. I’m looking forward to perusing the final shots of the trip when they’re ready.’
‘Sure.’
Emilie slumped back onto her sofa and stared out at the London skyline for a long time. Her thoughts were in turmoil as excitement and optimism chased guilt and regret until she could no longer think straight. The only fact that sped around her brain on a continuous loop was that it had been Lucinda who had removed her memory stick, not Matt, and if she hadn’t been so eager to cast Matt in the same mould as Brad and the other men she had shared her life with in the past, she would have been able to conclude that Lucinda was a more likely culprit. Hadn’t she seen her lurking behind the camper van the morning the stick went missing?
She felt sick at what she had done. Her unfounded accusation had caused Matt’s fall and his subsequent injuries. She had abandoned him at the hospital just so she could escape having to face him and hear his explanation, or his denial as it happened. She was a despicable person who didn’t deserve Matt’s friendship or his forgiveness.
She had no idea how long she sat staring out of the window berating her knee-jerk actions, exploring her reaction to Lucinda’s news. But before she had chance to dip any further into her pit of self-focused despondency her phone rang again. She toyed briefly with the idea of leaving it to go to voicemail but curiosity proved too much. She glanced at the screen to see it was Lucinda again and she knew she couldn’t ignore it.
‘Hi, Lucinda.’ She tried to appear upbeat but even to her, her voice sounded lacklustre and lethargic.
‘Sorry to bother you again, but I forgot to mention it before. Marcus is already nagging me for a copy of the photograph you took of the crew at the Eden Project and he mentioned something about a recipe for the chocolate cocktail? Could I trouble you to email one over to him today? Something about showing off to his Twitter followers, I think.’
‘No problem.’
‘Emilie, is there something the matter? Forgive me, but you don’t sound like a person who has just been offered a fantastic overseas shoot with a handsome Italian chef. I could be wrong but you sound miserable. Has something happened?’
Emilie let out a long sigh as she wrestled with whether to share her unforgivable error with Lucinda. ‘Oh, it’s nothing, except I might have just made the biggest mistake of my life.’
‘What are you talking about? What have you done? Can I help?’
Emilie was too upset to be surprised at Lucinda’s unexpected offer.
‘Basically, I’ve accused the only guy who took the time to get to know the real me of using my work without asking me. And guess what? As you have just told me, it wasn’t even him!’ Hot tears had begun to flow down her cheeks and the muscles in her stomach had clamped together so tightly she felt nauseous.
‘Do you mean you thought it was Matt who had borrowed your flash drive?’
‘Yes. I ran out on Matt when he needed me most after everything he’s done for me throughout the whole “Great Cornish Culinary Voyage”.’ She gulped down her tears and wiped the back of her hand across her cheeks. Somewhere in the back of her mind she understood that she was talking to Lucinda Carlton-Rose, not Alice or Lauren, that she should perhaps not be sharing the details of her most misguided behaviour, but she needed to formulate what she had done into words so she could come to terms with the enormity of it.
‘Do you know, I couldn’t have done any of it without him. Not only was he there to help me with setting up the props and the equipment, he made it his relentless mission to boost my confidence whenever I succumbed to a bout of insecurity. And how did I repay him for his kindness? By accusing him of stealing my work to use on his blog and in his Great British Beverages book.’
‘Oh, Emilie, I’m so sorry. I should never have interfered. It’s all my fault.’
‘No, it’s my fault. I should have checked his blog myself before I said anything. But it doesn’t matter. I won’t ever have to see him again. I’ll put it down to my continuing struggle with trust issues. From now on I intend to throw myself into my work and deal with my propensity to leap to conclusions.’
‘But, Emilie, you have to put this right! Even I noticed that you have a connection with Matt. You have to tell him you made a mistake. You have to explain what happened and apologise. You can’t let things like this just fade into the past.’
‘I can and I will.’
‘No! In fact, if you don’t call him right now then I will.’
‘Lucinda…’
‘When I met Grant I knew he was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Just being with him, doing nothing, made me happy. When we meet someone like that we have to hang on to them. When I saw you chasing each other along the beach in Newquay, I could almost taste your exhilaration. I knew something had happened between you in St Ives; it showed in the pictures you took that afternoon. I knew it was no accident that your photography zinged with added vibrancy. You might not agree with me, but I think you’ve fallen in love with him. You mustn’t waste the chance to put things right.’
‘But what if he hates me…’
‘He won’t. If I’ve learnt anything during my dealings with people over the years it’s that Matt Ashby’s not the sort of person who holds a grudge. Life’s too short, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘You know I’m right. Is it true then?’
‘Is what true?’
‘That you love him?’
Emilie laughed for the first time since she stood at the window in her suite at Craiglea Manor and glanced down at the Satsuma Splittie in the car park.
‘Yes,’ she murmured.
‘Then go get him, Emilie!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Grab the next train out of King’s Cross and tell him in person. Explain to him what happened, apologise from the bottom of your heart and ask for his forgiveness.’
‘Erm…’ Emilie couldn’t believe she was listening to Lucinda, the consummate professional, the avid perfectionist with a line in scrumptious desserts. It just went to show that people aren’t always what you see on the surface. She thought back to the way Lucinda had glowed when she had been at Grant’s side at The Risings and she was again forced to adjust her opinion of her client.
‘You think I should go up to Northumberland? I’m due back at the office in the morning and I need to work on the portfolio from the shoot.’
‘I’ll speak to Dexter. I’m sure he’ll agree to a day’s leave. After all, haven’t you just completed a two-week marathon of an assignment covering the whole of Cornwall with the most demanding of clients and survived intact? It’s the least he can do.’
She heard Lucinda laugh but she wasn’t convinced that she should go haring off north.
‘But what if Matt refuses to meet me?’
‘Don’t tell him, just go. Go now, before you overthink it. Go, go, go!’
‘Okay, okay, I’m going.’
‘And, Emilie?’
‘Yes?’
‘Tell him you love him!’
‘Okay.’ She laughed as excitement replaced the dread that had been lurking in the pit of her stomach about what her life would be like without Matt’s smiling face to wake up next to every morning.