offer. The trouble is, he
isn’t willing to discuss it with anyone but me. I’ve tried to have Miles
Ackerman, my assistant to step in but he will not have it. He says it's got to
be me or he walks off.”
She nodded, trying
very hard to focus on his now dirty, expensive Adidas trainers, thanks to her.
“Emma,” he continued.
“I tried. I really did. But it is a huge contract and I can’t just let it go.
It's a good opportunity for the company.”
“I know,” she
whispered. “I understand.”
His eyes gazed upon
her bent head as he touched her fingers gently, caressing the tips of it.
She withdrew her
hands and placed them into the pockets of her overall. It was safer there, with
her dirty gloves.
*****
The house, Emma felt,
was much quieter. Richard had made a difference, despite that the
children were back at their usual squabbles for remotes and toys instead of the
games they played with Richard in the yard or in the house and she, meanwhile, had
returned to the recluse of her conservatory.
He left early in the
morning, dropping the children off to school before rushing off to catch his
awaiting helicopter at Ashaig .
He had worn his
pin-striped suit and a silvery striped necktie over a pale blue shirt. He
looked immediately in his element, his hair combed and styled and his face,
clean shaven. She could smell his musk as he entered the kitchen while she
served the children their breakfast. It invigorated her senses almost drugging
her with illicit desires. She wanted to snug her face into his neck and soak in
the scent of his maleness.
“Morning,” he said as
he sat into a chair- his chair at the end of the table.
“Morning,” she
replied as she poured out his coffee. Instinctively she added precisely one levelled
teaspoon of sugar. She then laid a plate of one plain toast and scrambled eggs
on the side. The children preferred French toast instead unlike Richard who had
a rather distaste for bread dipped in eggs and then fried.
He pulled out the
local newspaper and started reading the front page simultaneously over a
conversation with the children.
“When are you going,
Uncle Richard?” asked Jai.
“Right after I drop
you off to school,” he answered without lifting an eye from the article he was
reading.
“When you coming
back?” Hannah asked. Her voice was low with a hint of sadness in it.
Richard looked up at
her and frowned. “Come here,” he said. She obeyed dutifully and sat on his lap.
“I’ll try to come back as soon as I can. But we can video call as often as we
want. It will so much be like I was here that you won’t even miss me.”
“It’s not the same,”
she replied.
“Yes, it will.”
“No, it won ’t.”
And it wasn’t. She missed the sound of his baritone
voice roar with laughter as the children
would pester him with questions or
debate with him the logics and the importance of sleeping late, soft drinks
that increased intelligence, horror movies that should be watched at midnight
and other pressing life issues.
The walls did not
echo any longer with those cheery sounds. They remained barren staring at her,
demanding that they were always the same as before he arrived. But she did not
know any longer. It was difficult to remember any more how those walls sounded
before Richard arrived two and a half weeks ago.
They had never lived
together, Richard and she. Even after Robert died, Richard always had his
lavish family home to which he would return to each night after visiting them.
And when he did ever come around, there was always Meredith and Patty, the
housekeeper and the maid to serve him with his tea and coffee and meals.
But these past weeks
were different. She had attended to his needs personally. She knew when he
awoke, how long he went for his morning runs and when he took his shower. She
had learnt that he preferred his shirts sun-dried and crisp and then pressed
with a crease in its sleeves.
When she entered
isn’t willing to discuss it with anyone but me. I’ve tried to have Miles
Ackerman, my assistant to step in but he will not have it. He says it's got to
be me or he walks off.”
She nodded, trying
very hard to focus on his now dirty, expensive Adidas trainers, thanks to her.
“Emma,” he continued.
“I tried. I really did. But it is a huge contract and I can’t just let it go.
It's a good opportunity for the company.”
“I know,” she
whispered. “I understand.”
His eyes gazed upon
her bent head as he touched her fingers gently, caressing the tips of it.
She withdrew her
hands and placed them into the pockets of her overall. It was safer there, with
her dirty gloves.
*****
The house, Emma felt,
was much quieter. Richard had made a difference, despite that the
children were back at their usual squabbles for remotes and toys instead of the
games they played with Richard in the yard or in the house and she, meanwhile, had
returned to the recluse of her conservatory.
He left early in the
morning, dropping the children off to school before rushing off to catch his
awaiting helicopter at Ashaig .
He had worn his
pin-striped suit and a silvery striped necktie over a pale blue shirt. He
looked immediately in his element, his hair combed and styled and his face,
clean shaven. She could smell his musk as he entered the kitchen while she
served the children their breakfast. It invigorated her senses almost drugging
her with illicit desires. She wanted to snug her face into his neck and soak in
the scent of his maleness.
“Morning,” he said as
he sat into a chair- his chair at the end of the table.
“Morning,” she
replied as she poured out his coffee. Instinctively she added precisely one levelled
teaspoon of sugar. She then laid a plate of one plain toast and scrambled eggs
on the side. The children preferred French toast instead unlike Richard who had
a rather distaste for bread dipped in eggs and then fried.
He pulled out the
local newspaper and started reading the front page simultaneously over a
conversation with the children.
“When are you going,
Uncle Richard?” asked Jai.
“Right after I drop
you off to school,” he answered without lifting an eye from the article he was
reading.
“When you coming
back?” Hannah asked. Her voice was low with a hint of sadness in it.
Richard looked up at
her and frowned. “Come here,” he said. She obeyed dutifully and sat on his lap.
“I’ll try to come back as soon as I can. But we can video call as often as we
want. It will so much be like I was here that you won’t even miss me.”
“It’s not the same,”
she replied.
“Yes, it will.”
“No, it won ’t.”
And it wasn’t. She missed the sound of his baritone
voice roar with laughter as the children
would pester him with questions or
debate with him the logics and the importance of sleeping late, soft drinks
that increased intelligence, horror movies that should be watched at midnight
and other pressing life issues.
The walls did not
echo any longer with those cheery sounds. They remained barren staring at her,
demanding that they were always the same as before he arrived. But she did not
know any longer. It was difficult to remember any more how those walls sounded
before Richard arrived two and a half weeks ago.
They had never lived
together, Richard and she. Even after Robert died, Richard always had his
lavish family home to which he would return to each night after visiting them.
And when he did ever come around, there was always Meredith and Patty, the
housekeeper and the maid to serve him with his tea and coffee and meals.
But these past weeks
were different. She had attended to his needs personally. She knew when he
awoke, how long he went for his morning runs and when he took his shower. She
had learnt that he preferred his shirts sun-dried and crisp and then pressed
with a crease in its sleeves.
When she entered
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