‘That was before we found out how much of a mortgage Dad had on the house. Look, Em, even if the house does sell, it’s not going to keep him there for ever. He’s only in his sixties. I’ve been talking with the boys and maybe we should look for somewhere cheaper…’
They’d do it, too.
As Emma hung up on her brother, she knew without a doubt that they’d do it—would move him from a home where he was, for the most part, happy, if it meant they could get their hands on some cash.
And then the nursing home rang to say that her father had been asking for her all morning.
‘He’s fine,’ the nurse assured her. ‘Just a touch anxious…’
‘Look, I know I haven’t been in as much recently.’ Emma closed her eyes in exhaustion. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to.’
‘We’re not trying to make you feel guilty,’ the nurse said. ‘You asked that we keep you up to date, and though he is confused, well…he does notice that you’re not visiting as often as you were.’
‘Tell him that I’ll be in soon,’ Emma said.
‘Can I tell him when?’
They didn’t mean to make her feel guilty—except guilty was exactly how she felt.
And at times it was completely overwhelming.
She pressed her fingers into her eyes in a bid to stem the tears, stem the urge to just throw in the towel, to let her brothers sort out the mess. To stop caring about a father who had treated her so poorly in the past.
When the house did sell, she’d be homeless. Oh, the profits from the sale would cover the overdue fees of the home, but it was the backlog of debt that was giving her nightmares.
‘Problem?’ Emma jumped, unsure how long Luca had been watching her.
‘Not at all…’ She forced a smile. ‘The meeting went well; I’ll write up a report and get the information to you.’
‘I wasn’t talking about the HR meeting.’ Luca frowned. ‘Is anything wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ Emma said, then realising what he’d seen she relented. ‘I’ve got a bit of headache, that’s all.’
‘My housekeeper’s not well.’
‘Oh!’ Emma blinked, reaching for the phone. ‘Did you want me to ring the agency and arrange a replacement?’
‘I’ll survive for a day,’ Luca said magnanimously, ‘but I am going to be flying to Japan this afternoon. Evelyn’s coming with me, she’s gone home to get ready, so can you go over to my apartment and pack for me?’
It was a strange byproduct, Emma had realised, of being rich and in demand—there was very little personal in his personal life. There was a whole army of people ensuring that every minute of his valuable time was put to best use. Letting herself into his vast, luxurious apartment a little later, Emma bent down and went to stroke Pepper, who duly growled a warning, then waddled to the huge glass sliding door to be let out. Emma wandered out onto the balcony and stared at the spectacular view of the Thames, before setting to work. She headed into the bedroom, opening her organiser and locating the list that would tell her what was required for a two-night international business trip.
All the information was there in her folder.
His immaculate suits and shoes were packed, as was his equally immaculate casual wear, and then she opened his underwear drawer to see neat rows of folded hipsters and socks as if they were on display in an exclusive store. There was nothing personal about the choices she made—the list saw to that. These cufflinks were preferred with this tie and shirt, these shoes with that suit…It just felt personal, that was all.
‘Hey!’ Emma jumped as Luca walked into the bedroom unannounced, blushing as she held a handful of his hipsters. It just seemed wrong somehow to be going through his underwear drawer, even though it was her job to be in there.
He was completely at ease with it, of course.
Just kicked off his shoes and lay on the bed, chatting on his phone as Emma walked through to the sumptuous bathroom to pack his toiletries and to try and not listen as he made a couple of personal calls—cancelling his plans for the next couple of nights and, by the sound of it, breaking a couple of hearts in the process.
‘Why?’ Luca asked as she came back into the bedroom with his toiletry bag and was finishing off his packing, ‘when I say I’m going to Japan, do they think it has something to do with them—why would they think that I’m lying?’
‘Because you usually are,’ Emma pointed out.
‘Well, I’m not this time.’ He ran lazy eyes over her, taking in the smudges under her eyes, the vague distraction that slightly displaced her more usual sunny nature. ‘What’s wrong, Em?’