Page 61 of Trouble

‘I just told you, I don’t know!’ Emily said, too loudly and too curtly. Captain Edwards blinked at her, and she lowered her voice. Behind her, she heard a little noise of exclamation from one of the ribbon ladies. ‘You must understand very little about the lives of working people, Captain Edwards, if you think we are constantly in need of the latest woven silks and painted satin.’

‘Of course,’ Captain Edwards said, sounding as if he regretted the day he had learned to talk. ‘Then I think .?.?. this will do. Are we supposed to procure .?.?. ribbon? Grace usually seems to have two or five about her person.’

‘Yes,’ said Emily.

She could see the shop assistant approaching, gazing hungrily at Captain Edwards, although whether this was due to his looks or the likelihood that he was about to spend a lot of money, she could not tell and, at this moment, did not care.

‘I think this lady will help you. Excuse me.’

Out in the square, she could breathe a little easier. She watched two little blonde girls walking together hand in hand, wearing matching dresses, the fabric plain but the love in the stitching evident even from afar. Somebody had carefully curled their hair and tied it with ribbons.

She didn’t begrudge them, but she did feel a dull, creeping ache in her chest. From behind, the girls could have been her and Amy.

Had she ever felt cherished? Beautiful? She couldn’t remember. She had felt useful, instead, which had taken the place of everything else.

The ringing of the shop bell brought her back to reality, and she looked up to find that Captain Edwards was standing there, holding a large box, looking slightly dazed.

‘If she had at least pulled a knife on me,’ he said, ‘I could have been robbed without the loss of my dignity.’

‘You should have worn a worse coat,’ said Emily. ‘Although I imagine everybody knows you on sight, anyway.’

‘I shouldn’t think so,’ said Captain Edwards. ‘I rarely come to the village.’

‘Trust me,’ Emily said. ‘They know.’

Back in the gig, Captain Edwards seemed to recover some of his composure. He certainly relaxed once they reached the edge of the village, with nothing but rolling coast ahead of them until Fairmont.

‘Why did you not just send someone for the fabric another time?’ Emily said, watching gulls wheel overhead, buffeted by the wind.

He considered for a while before he answered. ‘I wanted her to know that I picked it out myself.’

He hadn’tactuallypicked it out himself, but she supposed that he had done the next best thing, and that it was probably the thought that counted. Better that he come home bearing a box full of something lovely he’d been directed towards, than that he came home with mountains of lime green taffeta he’d grabbed out of panic.

It was also obviouswhyhe wanted Grace to know he had picked it out himself, and after all the shouting she’d done at him about his lack of connection with his children, Emily felt a strange stab of pride. She couldn’t tell whether it was her own pride for standing up to him, or – heaven forbid – if she actually felt a little proud ofhimfor listening.

Not that Grace’s affection should or could be bought – but Emily already knew she’d be thrilled that he had tried. And it wasn’t much. But it was a start.

‘Go on, say it,’ he said drily. ‘I didn’t really pick it out myself. It doesn’t count.’

‘I think it counts,’ said Emily.

When he smiled tentatively at her, the ache in her chest returned so suddenly that she bit down on the inside of her cheek rather than smile back.

It was surprisingly easy to talk to him all the way home.

Chapter Twenty-One

In the kitchen over breakfast the next morning, Akia had to nudge Emily from her thoughts with the poke of a spoon.

‘Amy? Are you listening? I said your name three times.’

‘What?’

‘I said there’s going to be aball. As if we haven’t got enough to do, cleaning sand out of every crevice of this house.’

‘Not just of the house,’ Oliver said darkly.

‘Please do not discuss your crevices at the breakfast table,’ said Meera.