They first met in a little tearoom on Kings Road. Emily Clarke was waiting at a corner table for a friend, a steaming mug of tea before her and a slice of Victoria sponge on a plate. James Bennett had stopped by for a cup of coffee and to ponder his future.
Emily was an exceptionally pretty young lady, and James was a handsome fellow who never shied away from striking up a conversation with any woman. He found her striking, and it seemed she felt the same.
May I sit at your table? he asked in a tone that left little room for refusal.
Sure, but Im waiting for my friend, so you wont have to linger long, she replied.
I wont be long at all. I only need a moment to get to know you and exchange telephone numbers. A few minutes will do.
And who told you Id hand over my number? she asked, breaking off a bite of the cake.
Because you like sweets, and sweet things are beloved by kind people. That makes us a perfect match, since Im fond of sweets as well.
So youre a kind soul, then? she laughed.
Indeed. Cant you see it? Im a very kind and decent man, he said, taking a sip of his coffee.
Ive never seen such selfassurance before.
And Ive never seen a beauty quite like you.
Emily, she said, extending her hand.
James, he answered, taking her hand, squeezing it lightly, and kissing her with a passion that left Emily flushed.
Listen, she whispered, arent you being a bit too forward with a complete stranger?
Im not forward at all. Besides, who am I addressing but the most lovely woman in the world?
Alas, not a lady but a married woman, Emily showed the wedding band on her left hand. Im married!
And what, have we always been stopped by such things? Today married, tomorrow not thats life. In our age, marriage can be as fragile as tissue.
Perhaps, James said, but my upbringing teaches that marriage is forever. So, dear sir, I think its time we part ways.
Why speak like that? I feel neither of us wants this. Lets at least swap numbers; it binds us to nothing. If we ever wish to talk again, well need a way.
Youre quite confident. Why should I give you my number?
Im not confident, Im simplehearted. If we like each other, why not meet again? he said with a charming smile that made Emilys resolve crumble.
Very well, write it down, she said, dictating her number.
Ill call you now and youll have my number. Keep it, youll need it later.
Fine, Emily agreed, Ill keep it safe. Now you should move to another table; I see my friend arriving, and I have no need for idle gossip.
No trouble, I understand. Ill disappear, but we shall meet again.
James took his cup and slipped into the far corner of the shop.
A week later James dialed Emilys number. She had been waiting for his call, and she consented to meet him again at the same tearoom.
Emily, James began, Id like to get to know you better.
You see, James, Emily sipped her tea, Im married. I work as a nurse at St.Thomas Hospital and, in principle, could see you. But my husband, Nicholas, is very jealous. Hes a former contract soldier who now runs a youth combat academy. Hes strongwilled and powerful, and I would never betray him. Besides, I abhor infidelity; its dangerous.
Emily, James replied firmly, I like you very much and cannot simply walk away. Though Im a programmer and my hands are not used to heavy tools, Im not frightened of your husband. I simply want to be friends and know you more.
James earned a modest living as a software developer at a small firm in Camden. He was a keen bachelor who never let a pretty face pass him by, and Emily was no exception. He felt a growing attraction and vowed to win her over.
They met again, and the encounter sealed the course of their relationship. Emily told her husband she would be on night duty at the hospital, and she stayed the night at Jamess flat. Neither noticed the moment they fell in love, and soon they could no longer be apart. They saw each other whenever possible.
One evening Emily called James.
My husbands away on a competition for a week, so Ill be waiting for you at home tonight.
Emily, isnt that risky? Perhaps we could meet at my place, as always.
No, I want you here. Ill cook a romantic dinner, and well sit together like proper folk. I cant keep coming to your bachelors den!
Alright, Ill be there this evening.
At the agreed hour James arrived with a bouquet of roses, a bottle of champagne, a bottle of red wine, a cake and a box of chocolates. Emilys dinner was delightful; the champagne and wine loosened their tongues, and after the meal they retired to the bedroom. The night promised to be as romantic as the candlelit supper.
At two oclock a frantic knock thundered on the door. They sprang from the bed, bewildered. Emily peered through the peephole.
Its Nicholas, James, this is the end! Hide somewhere!
But where?
I dont know, decide yourself! Im at a loss!
Who is it? Emily asked, halfasleep.
Emily, open up, dont you recognise me? a drunken voice called from outside. I left my keys at work, so Im pounding. Open up, quick.
What shall we do? Emily, trembling, looked at James.
Open the door; what else can we do? the palefaced lover replied.
James shoved his belongings under the bed and, clad only in his underpants, darted into the bathroom.
Where have you been getting so drunk? Emilys voice rang out. Why didnt you go home?
Our bus broke down, and the lads were hitching rides home. We stopped for a drink in a nearby pub and got a little stuck.
A little, indeed, Emily shouted, you cant even stand!
Dont worry, dear, Ive got this under control. I just need the loo.
Use the loo tomorrow, Emily ordered sternly, now go back to bed and sleep!
But I must go now! Nicholas protested, his drunken bass voice booming. No, no, no, I want it now! He laughed like a child, delighted with his own joke, and shuffled towards the bathroom.
The bathroom was a cramped combination of tub and toilet, the sort of design that leaves one wondering who thought it sensible. James, quick as a cat, clambered onto the ceramic edge, wedged himself against the wall and flattened himself into a corner, holding onto the tiles for support.
Nicholas, eyes fixed on the toilet, never noticed Jamess silent figure. He sang his drunken ditty, while Emily, trembling by the doorway, could not fathom where James had vanished.
When James saw the hulking form of Nicholas and his clenched fists, he realised that if the man spotted him it would be his last romantic encounter perhaps his last day at all. He froze, breathless, hoping to remain unseen.
Nicholas lingered in the loo, humming, oblivious to the faint scent of alcohol and the faint rustle of Jamess movements. A sudden sneeze escaped James, echoing off the tiled walls like a clap of thunder. The sound startled Nicholas, who looked up, eyes wide, as if seeing a vision.
For a split second James imagined a crucifix on the wall, a ghostly reminder of something higher than himself. The terror made him flinch, and he felt his world tilt.
Summoning his wits, James leapt from the edge, sprinted out of the bathroom and into the hallway. Emily stood pale, unable to comprehend the chaos.
James grabbed his coat, the few belongings he could snatch, and fled the flat. Though the building had twelve floors and two rapid lifts, he chose the stairwell, barefoot in his underpants, racing down the concrete like a man chased by his own conscience.
Moments later Nicholas, sobering, rose and looked around, seeing only empty space.
Drink less, Emily chided him later, as he recounted his nightmarish vision.
