The Curse E-Book

Bettina Maass-Muenster

• Herausgeber: tredition
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 1060

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

When Emily returns to her old home in England to settle her mother‘s estate, a mysterious last letter forces her to investigate a family secret that ultimately drives her into the arms of the vampire people. The attractive clan leader Roy is at the centre of a deadly curse that must be broken. In her search for the truth, Emily puts her life in danger. What begins as blackmail ends in a turmoil of emotions. Suddenly she is faced with the most difficult decision of her life ... With this vampire novel, Bettina Maass-Muenster proves that she has a perfect command of the fantasy genre. Emily Watson takes the readers deep into the guts of the underworld, in the desperate attempt to escape the curse that has weighed on her family for centuries. From enemies to lovers on a completely new level! High tension guaranteed but ... do you dare?

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A fairytalereadingpleasure!

BettinaMaass-Muenster

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Bettina Maaß-Münster

THE CURSE – DIE IF YOU DARE!

1

EmilyWatsonbreathedasighofreliefastheschool gongloudlyannouncedtheendofthelessonand watchedasherEnglishclassnoisilystood upandleft theroom.

Ashygirlwithlongblondhairbroughtuptherear, turnedaroundinthedooragainandsaid:“Goodbye, MissWatson.”

Emilysmiledatherandwatchedherlaughingand joiningher friends.

Silenceatlast.

Sheletthesuddencalmintheroomaffectherand tookadeepbreathinandout.Outsidethewindow, NewYork’strafficbillowed,aconstant,never-endingbackground noise.It had becomeso flesh and blood to Emilyin thesixyearsshehad been livingin theBig Applethatshe barelynoticedit.

Thenoise,thecarhornsandsirenswerepartofthe city,formeditsheartbeat.ThosewholivedinNew Yorkandlovedthecityadaptedtothisheartbeat, moved inits rhythm and dancedto its beat.

Herloveforthecity hadnotonly ledEmily toteach her offspring years ago.Her hobbyalsotook her into the bowels of the metropolis and she had publishedherthirdNewYorkcrimenovel onlyafewmonthsago.Currently,shewasalready workingfeverishlyonthefourthvolumeandwas completelyintegrated intothis work.

Attheageof twenty-one,shehadcome to thecityto leavebehindthelegacyofherchildhoodinEngland and find a new homehere. Theshattered relationship withhermotherandbrokenfriendships...allthis recededintothebackgroundinNewYorkandno longerhadanyvalue.Besides,noonehereasked her questionsaboutherfamilyandthepastshecouldn’t answer.ShehadcometoNewYorkasa blanksheet of whitepaperand had begun to writeherown story. HeroldlifeinEnglandhadgraduallyfaded.Thedark memoriessankintonothingness,werewhitewashed bythe magnificence ofBig Appleand its dispersion. Emily’schildhoodhadbeendifferentfromthatof otherchildren.Shehardlyhadanyfamily,looked enviouslyatthepartiesandfamilycelebrationsofher classmates.Herrelativeshadalldiedearly.Emily,as farbackasshecouldremember,hadonlyeverhad herparentsuntilherfatheralsodiedasuddenand unexpecteddeathwhenshewasstillachild.Tothis day,Emilyrefusedtobelievethatithadbeensuicide. ‘What happened to your father?’

‘Why did all yourrelatives dieso early?’

Shedidn’tknowtheanswerstotheseandother questionsherself,neither inherchildhood nortoday, becauseMrsWatsonhadevadedanexplanationfor solongthatherdaughterfinallygottiredofasking. Shedidn’tknowwhetheraseriesofunfortunate accidentshadbefallenthefamily,orwhetherthere wasamysteriousillnessgoingaroundthathermother wasdeterminednottotellherabout.Therumormill wassimmering,andEmilywasjustassmartas everyone else and didn’tknow anything.

Asifthislifefullofunansweredquestionswasn’t enough,she waskeptathomealmostlikeinaprison. Everystep,everybreathshetookwasguardedwith arguseyesbyhermother.Itwasoverwhelmingand inexorablycrumbledthefaçadeofherhealthyfamily life.Atfirst,itwasjustfinecracksthatwereeasyto ignore. Smallquarrels thathardlyhurt. Theolder she became,themorevehementherattemptstobreakout ofthiscocoonbecame.Themother-daughter relationshipgotintotrouble,brokeup.Untilshe couldnolongerstanditandfled,rightafter graduatingfromschool.TheAtlanticseemedjustbig enoughtoescapehermother’scontrolandtohave enoughroomtobreathefreely.Thecontactbrokeoff.

HereinNewYorkEmilyhadfound anewhome.She hadstudiedandcreatedherownuniverseinwhich shelivedpredominantlyaloneandwithdrawn. Trustingotherpeoplewasdifficultforher. Nevertheless,shehadfoundtwofriendsatNewYork Universitywithwhomshestillmetregularlytoday. MeredithandBeckyhadtaughthertohavefun,to enjoylife,and she wasverygrateful for that.

Allothercontactsremainedonapurelyprofessional level,eitherinthehighschoolstaffroomoratthe publishinghousethathelpedherpublishhercrime novels.

HerbestfriendwasMeredith.Fromthevery beginning,theyhadbeenonthesamewavelengthand hadbuiltupanintimateconnectionthatdevelopedby itself.Meredithhadalsostudiedteachingandworked atahighschoolinBrooklyn.Afterwhatshesaid aboutherwork,Emilywashappytohavefoundajob inManhattan.Herfriendwasateacherwithheartand soulandhadthebigdreamofteachingataprivate schoolintimetoescapefromtheenvironmentof socialhotspots.Emily’sgoalwas another: shewanted toseehercrimenovelsonthebestsellerlists.Writing washergreatpassion,buttherewasstillalongway togo.Onemorereasonforhertoputherheartand soul into her currentbook project.

Emilycamehomeintheearlyafternoonandhungher jacketexhaustedonthecoathooknexttothedoor. Shelivedinasmallapartmentinanold,dirtybrick buildingintheheartofQueens,whichwasinurgent needofrenovation.Shehadmadethemostofthe interiorofherapartment:thick,softcarpetslayall overthewornlinoleum,thesand-coloredsofawas stockedwithbrightcushions,andcleancurtainshung fromthefreshlycleanedwindows.Inthemiddleof thelivingroom,halfameterfromthebackofthe sofa,stoodaroomdivider-anoversizedshelf withoutabackwall,inwhoseopencompartments thereweretonsofbooks,boxesandknick-knacks. Beyond this artificialwall,Emilyhad created asmall office.Alargedeskwithablackmetalbaseanda heavyglassplatestoodagainstthewallbythe window,sothatshecouldwatchthehustleandbustle on New York’s streetswhilewriting.

Onthesideabovethedeskhungashelfonthewall, whereshekeptallherschooldocuments.Herbook notes,ontheotherhand,formedacolorful hodgepodgeintwocompartmentsoftheopenspace divider. Despite thethousand littlethings and figures thatencouragedeachoftherarevisitorstoher apartmenttoafascinatingtreasurehunt,everything had its fixedplace andan immovableorder.

Withafreshly cookedcupofcoffee,shesatdownin thecozyleatherdeskchair.Outsideitwasrainingcats anddogs.Thedropsrandownthewindowpanein irregularpaths,blurringtheirviewofthecity.Emily wasturningonhercomputer,sipping hotcoffee, and wasabouttostartwritingherbookwhentheringing ofthephonerippedheroutofherthoughts.Annoyed, sheleanedoverthedeskandpickedupthereceiver, which was standingin a corner ofthetable.

“Yes, please?”

“Thisis Edward Caineof Caine und Partner, lawyers inLondon.AmItalkingto MissEmilyWatson?”ThefamiliarEnglish accent madehershudder. It had beenalongtimesinceshehadheardorspokenBritish English.Nervously,shestoodup,clampedthe receiverunderherearandcrossedherarmsinfront ofherchest.Withawildly beatingheart,shereplied hoarsely:“Yes, that’sme. What can Ido foryou?” “Well,actuallyIthinkIcandosomethingforyou, MissWatson.Irepresentyourmother,MissesErica Watson.”

Emily’sblood frozein her veins. Sixyears.

Forsolongtherewasradiosilencebetweenthetwo women.Sixyearswithoutphonecalls,lettersor Christmas cards.

Why was shenow called byher lawyer?

“Istheresomethingwrong with mymother?” Silence.

It expanded, strangelysurreal.

Emilycouldliterallyhearthe solicitorlookingforthe rightwords.Eventually,shecouldn’ttakeitany longer and decided to help himout.

“Ismymother ill?”

“No,she’snotill.MissWatson,yourmotherpassed awaythedaybeforeyesterday.I’mverysorry.” Deadlysilencesuddenlydescendedonthesmall apartment.Eventhestreetnoiseseemedtohavefallen silent,andtherainhardlydaredtoknockonthe window.Emilydidn’tevenhearthetickingofthe littleclock thatstood inthemiddleof herglasstable. “Howdid ithappen?”

Itwaslittlemorethanawhisper.Herthroatwasdried out.Shewantedtograbhercupofcoffee,butthen couldn’tmanagetotakeasip.Drinkingatall suddenlyseemedtotallywrongtoher.Hermother wasdead.Shecouldn’tjusthaveadrink.Thatbeing said...Hadn’tthemomentarrivedtoburstintotears and desperatelyput awaythephone?

Shefeltdull, empty.

“Eh...Excuseme?Sorry,Ididn’tunderstandyou. Couldyou repeat that again?”

MrCainehadsaidsomething,butithadpassedher byunheard.

“Thecauseofdeathhasnotyetbeenclearly determined.Aneighborfound yourmotherinthelate eveninghourswhenshehadn’tturneduptoan appointment.Sofar,heartfailurehasbeenassumed. Thepostmortemwillpossiblyfindmoreconclusive evidence.”

“Okay,” Emilyreplied tonelessly.

“MissWatson,theautopsywillprobablybedonein thenextfewdays.Icanfaxtheresulttoyouorsend itbypost ifyou want.”

“Thatwon’tbenecessary.I’llcometoLondon myself.”

Itwasoutbeforeshehadthoughtaboutit.Butwhen sherealizedthesignificanceofthestatement,itreally didseemliketherightthingtodo.Hermother’s affairshadtobesettled.Certainly,therewasawill. Inaddition,ithad tobeclarified whatshouldhappen to thebelongingsof EricaWatson.

Emilyhadnoideawhatshewouldencounter.And worstofall,shewasalone.Apartfromhermother, therehadbeennootherrelatives.Shedidn’thaveany friendsinEngland,andtherewasnomaninherlife onwhose supportshecouldhaverelied.Shecouldn’t evensaywithcertaintythatshewantedtoflytoEngland.Nordidshefeelanygrief.Rather,she believedthatthiswassomethingthatwasusually done in such asituation.

“Areyou sureyou can gethereso quickly?”

“I’mateacher.Anothercolleaguewillstandinfor me.Pleasegivemeyourexactaddressandphone number.IwillcontactyouassoonasI’llbein London.Oh,andonemorething:Ismymother’s addressstillup-to-date,orhasshemoved?We haven’thad anycontactfor years,so ...”

“Shewasstilllivingintheoldcottage.That’swhere shewasfound-in thekitchen.”

Emilyfeltherselfgettingsick,endedtheconversation andfled tothebathroomto vomit.

Thefollowingevening,itwasaWednesday,Emily andherfriendMeredithweresittingintheirfavorite Italian‘Amore’.Exhausted,Emilysippedonher Campari-Orange.Herfriendswungherbrightred curls backwards andonceagainshook herhead.

“Yourmotherwasonly inhermid-fifties! Youdon’t justdropdeadatthatage!Havetheyalreadyruledout suicide?”

“Thesolicitorhasn’tsaidanythingyet.Onlythatthey currentlyassumeacardiacarrest.Buttheheart alwaysstopsatdeath,doesn’tit? Therefore,youcan’t takethisstatementtoo seriously!”

AfterMeredith’sscepticallooksheadded,“Yes,I knowthisisamedicaldiagnosis.Iwasonlysaying that.”

Shesighedanddidn’tevenletherselfbecheeredup bythebigpizzathatwasplacedinfrontofhernose atthatmoment:Fungi,extraspicy,withartichoke hearts.

“Enjoyit,dear.Whoknowsifyou’llfinddecentfood in England!”

Herfriendsmiledtiredly. “I’llprobablyhavetomake atourofthelocalrestaurantsmyself,asthere’shardly anybodytowelcomeme.”

“Whynot?You’llhavehad girlfriendsinyour youth. A gangof neighboring girls or something like that.”

Sadly,Emilyshookherhead.“Myfamilywasalways shunnedinaway.ThefactthatmynameisWatson wastheultimatecontactkillerandnippedall friendshipsinthebud.Rumorsweregoingaroundall thetime.Whymyfamilymembersdiedsoyoungand things likethat.Unfortunately,myparentsdidn’ttell meanythingaboutit.Theyprobablyhopeditwould goawaybykeepingquiet.Idon’tknowhowmany timestheytoldmenottoworryaboutit.Easiersaid thandone,ifyouhavethewhisperingofothersin yourearsallthetimeandarelookedatlikealeper. SometimesIhadthefeelingthattheotherchildren wereafraidofme,asweretheirparents.Wewere outsiders, and there wasnothingIcould do about it.”

Listlessly,shepokedaroundinamushroom.The memoriesdidn’texactlyincreasehermotivationto flyto England.

MeredithtookasipofherwineandlookedatEmily exploring. “Whatdoyou thinkwhyitwas like that?”

“Ihavenoidea.AllIknowisthatallmyrelatives diedquiteearly.Andthenmy fatherdied,too.Iwas justeightyearsold.Hesupposedlycommitted suicide.Thatwastheicingonthecake.Peoplegot veryexcitedtalkingaboutwhatterribleillnesses couldhavekilledmyrelativesandwhatprobably drovemyfathertohisdeath.Ineverfoundoutwhat wasactuallybehindit.Ibeggedmymothertotellme, onceandagain.Iknewsheknewtherealbackground. Icouldseeitinhereyes.Herwholebehavior...she knewwhatwasgoingon.Hersilencehasdestroyed ourrelationship.Ijustcouldn’tgetclosetoher.She waslikeawall.”

“Maybeyou’llfindoutmoreaboutitwhenyoufly there.”

“Yes,maybe.Thefunnythingis...Idon’tfeel anything.Nogrief.Ithrewupyesterdayafterthe solicitor’scall,butapartfromthat...Mymotherdied. Shouldn’tIbesad?Eventhoughwewerenolonger incontact?ButIfeelnothing,exceptquitea reluctance to geton thisplane tomorrow.”

Meredithlookedatherfriendlovingly.“Sweetheart, you’restillinshock.Thegriefwillcertainlycome. Everythingtakes time.”

Emilyshruggedhershouldersandfinallyenjoyedher pizza.Broodingdidn’tgether anywhere. She wanted togeteverythingdoneasquicklyaspossibleandthen returntoNewYork. Thelastthingshewantedwasto open old wounds.

Twohourslater,thetwowomensaidgoodbyetoeach otheroutside therestaurant.

“And you’resureyoudon’twantmetogowithyou?”

“I don’tknowhowlong itwill takeand whatexactly willhavetobedone.ButI’llcallyouinbetween, okay?”

“Definitelywhenyou’vearrived,doyouhearme?I want to besureyou’redoingwell.”

Afterawarmhug,Emilysneakedhomelostin thought.

2

At11:40pm,EmilyarrivedatLondonHeathrow Airport after anine-hour flight.Afterhalfanhour’swait,whenshefinallyliftedher suitcaseofftheconveyorbelt,sheinitiallythought abouttakingtheHeathrowExpresstoPaddington station.Instead,shegotintooneofthemanytaxis waitinginalongqueueoutsidetheairportbuilding. Shewasn’tentirelycomfortabletravelingaloneby train at night.

“To this address, please.”

Shegavethedriverthenotewiththehastilywritten addressofthesmallguesthouseshehadchosenfor thedurationofherstayinLondon.Shecouldn’tbring herselftostayinherparents’house wherehermother hadjustdied.Noticingthetaxidriver’sestimating gaze,shesmiledobliginglyandpointedouttohim thatshe wasnot atourist.

“I’m fromhere, so don’tbother to takeadetour.”

Helaughedandsteeredthetaxiontotheaccessroad tothemotorway,whichwasnotverybusyatthistime ofday.Thewindscreenwiperslazilywipedaway raindrops thathad fallen out of ablack sky.

“You don’tsound likealocal.”

“I’vebeenlivinginNewYorkforafewyears.You pick up the accentfrom therequickly.”

‘Far too quickly,’ sheaddedquietlyto herself.Deeplyinthoughtsshestaredoutintotherain-drenchednight.Everythingwaseerilyfamiliar.But newerbuildings,analteredstreethereandthereand redevelopedneighborhoodsmadeEmilyfeellikea foreignbody.ShehadfoundherhomeinNewYork butwasstillalittlesadtofeelsooutofplacehere now.Eventhoughshehadfewhappymemoriesof England, it had once been her home.

‘Ahomethatresembledaprison.Ahomefromwhich youfledinordertobeabletobreathefreely,’she reminded herself.

Quickerthanexpectedthetaxistoppedinfrontofa smallVictorian-stylevillaonthefringesofSoho, whichlookedstrangelyoutofplaceamongthe galleriesand restaurants.

“Here, therest isfor you.”

Thetaxidriver,anelderlymanwithice-greyhairand bright blueeyes,smiled friendly.

“Thankyou,Miss.Justsee,there’sstilllightonthe lowerfloor.Maybeyou’llbeluckyandgetahot meal.”

Emily washappyaboutthisglimmerofhope.Itwas mid-OctoberandalreadycoldandwetinEngland’s capital.Shewouldgetherwarmcoatandher mother’slongscarfstraightoutofhersuitcasethe next morning. ‘Mum...’

Adullshadowsweptthroughherheart.Beforeshe wastemptedtoidentifyitasmourning,shepulled herselftogetherandmarchedpurposefullytowards thedooroftheoldhousewiththesuitcaseinherhand. Afterthesecondknock, thesturdyoakdoordecorated withpretty carvingswasopened,andasmallelderly ladywithcurlersonherheadandablanketaroundher shoulders opened thedoorto Emilyfriendly.

“Oh, you mustbeMissWatson!Comein, it’sgetting terriblychillyoutside!Ohdear,andit’srainingagain. Nothingformyoldbones.Yousee,I’vealready put onmythickestwoolenblankettokeepmy rheumatismfrombecomingworse.Oh,isyour suitcaseheavy?Come,putitdownoverthereforthe timebeing.Areyouhungry?Ofcourseyoumustbe hungry!I’vewarmedupsomebrothespeciallyfor you.It’sstillonthestove.Theotherguestsare alreadyasleep,soit’scosierifwegointothekitchen.Do youlikechickensoup?It’s goodfor yourimmune system,Ialwayssay.Youmustbehalffrozeninyour thincoat.Doyouwantablanket,dear?There’sone on thekitchen bench over there.”

Chatteringawayhappily,thehousekeeperledEmily intothekitchen,herthickpinkplushslippers swallowingevery sound. Therewas a warm, friendly atmosphereinthehouse,andtheyoungwoman immediately feltsafe.Shejustwonderediftheother pensionguestswouldbewokenupbytheoldlady’s chattering.Sheherselfdidn’tseemtobeconcerned about that atall.

“Here, pleasesitdown. Youmust havehad a terribly longflight.Certainlyyou’reexhausted.Ihopeyou don’tmindthatI’veputsomeeggintothesoup.It makesitricher.Doyoulikeeggsinyoursoup?You canhardlytasteit.Look,it’sstillniceandhot.Here yougo.”

Whileshepresented her guest with alargecupof hot brothandputtheofferedblanketaroundher shoulders,shestoppedtalkingforamoment,which Emilydirectlytook advantageof.

“Thankyouvery much,that’svery kind ofyou.You reallyhaveanicehome, Mrs ...?”

Theoldladysatdownoverthecorner,alsoarmed with a cupof soup.

“MrsMallon.PrudenceMallon.ButjustcallmePrudyifyoulike.Excuseme,Ialwaysforgetto introducemyself.MylatehusbandalwayssaidI babbletoomuch.Youdon’tmindmeeatingsome soup,doyou?It’sgoodformybones,andittastes even better incompany, don’tyou think?”

Emilysmilednon-committalandslowlyspoonedup thehotsoup.Ittasteddeliciousand,asshesoon realized,warmednotonlythebody,butalsohersoul. Duringthemeal,however,shewondered howPrudy Mallonmanagedtoeatchickensoupandtalknon-stopatthesametime.Shelearneddetailsaboutthe house,theneighborhoodinwhichitstood,theSecond WorldWarandthemarriageofMrandMrsMallon, she’d ratherhavedonewithout.

Afterawhile,thebabblingbecametiring.Emily’s thoughtsbecame increasinglyconfused.

Whenshefinishedhersupper,Emilysoonindicated thatshe would liketo see her room.

“Oh,ofcourse,ofcourse!Wherehavemymanners gone!Pleasetrytobequietwhenyougotobed.In theroomnexttoyoulivesanelderly ladywhohasaverylightsleep.She’shardhearing,though,andI actuallydoubtthatshe’devennoticetheendofthe worldifitcame.OntheothersideofyourroomisMisterEckamp.Astrangename,don’tyouthink? He’sGerman,abusinessmanonatripthroughthe country. He’llstayforanotherweekbeforehegoesto Dublin.Idon’tknowwhathe’sselling,butit’llbe somethingif he’stravellingacrossEuropefor it!”

Duringhermonologue,PrudyhadslowlyledEmily upstairsuntilshestoppedinfrontofoneofthe numbered doors.

“Well,hereweare,roomnumberfive.It’stheonly roomwithitsownbathroom.Ithoughtyou’dlike that.Itonlybecameavailableyesterday.Breakfastis served in thediningroomfromseven o’clock, dinner onlyifyoubookinadvance.Wouldyouliketohave dinner here?”

Emilyshookherheadwearilyandhopedthattheold lady’s flow of wordswould soon come toan end.

“Thankyouverymuch,butIdon’tknowhowlong I’llbebusytomorrow,soit’llbebetterifIdon’tmake anyappointmentnow.”

“Oh,that’sjustaswell.Pleasekeepinmindthatthe frontdoorwillbelockedatten.AfterthatIonlyopen itforspecialreasonslikeforyourarrivaltonight. There’s no front door keyfor myguests, onlya room key.Theriskthatsomeonemightlosethekeyanda strangermightfind it andget into thehousethatway issomethingthatI’mnotpreparedtotake.Ihope you’llunderstand.”

Emilythankedheragainandwasfinallyabletoretire toherroom.Whenshehadcarefullylockedthedoor shespread-eagled on thebed and fellasleep at once.

ThenextmorninggreetedEmilywithtypicalEnglish weather:itwasmistyand cold.Aslight drizzle came downthroughthethinfogwhichhadn’tevaporated yet at theearlyhour of six o’clock.

Firstshewonderedwhyshewasalreadyawakeatthat time,butthensherememberedthatherinnerclock hadmostprobablylostitsbalance.Thisjetlag would surelyaffectherforsomedaystocomeuntilshe’d have fullyadjusted toBritish time.

Whileshewasstandinginthehotshowerandwas enjoyingthestreamof water on her shoulders, Emily rememberedhermother.EricaWatsonhadn’tbeen muchofaprototypeforagoodmother,butnow Emilyaskedherself forthefirsttimeever whyithad beenlikethat.Hermotherhadalwaysprotectedher, thoughmuchtoomuch.InfactEmilyhadalways beenunderaverytightcontrol,cometothinkofit, andthismotherlycarehadtrulysuffocatedher.She hadneverbeenallowedtoleavehomeafterdark, whichhadbeenabsolutelyawful.Asshehadn’thad anyfriendsanywaythere wouldn’thavebeenanyone to meet, butstillshe had feltlocked up veryoften. Untiltheageofeightherfatherhad lookedafter her, too.Hehadbeeninchargeofthefarm thatbelonged tothemanorhousetheyusedtoliveinandhadbeen averylovingandunderstandingfatherinevery respect.Threedaysafterhereighthbirthday,George Watsonhadsuddenlydisappearedwithoutatrace. Searchpartieshadscannedtheareafordaysonend andhadfinallyfoundhiminaditchnotfarawayfrom thehouse– with abulletholein hishead.

Hermotherhadbeenfuriousandhadflatly contradictedthepostmortemverdictofsuicide. Emilyknewintuitivelythatshewasright andthatthe resultsoftheinvestigationmustbewrong.They had been a happyfamilyuntilher father disappeared.

Afterthateventhermother’soverwhelming precaution towards her had started.Emilywas teased atschoolandthefactthatshecouldn’tdoanything aboutitfuelled therumour mill.Andwhenshecame home,shesuffocatedinhermum’spresence.From thenonshehadhadtorunthegauntleteverysingle day, which had soon becomeunbearable.

Shehadhopedthatalotwouldchangeafterschool. Foryears,she had dreamed of gettinga good job and being respected byeveryone.Theideahadgivenher stability.But thingsturned outdifferently.

EmilycouldhavehadajobinLondon,butthe distancebetweenthemetropolisandherparents’ homewasnotenoughtoescapethesuffocatingcare ofhermotherandthetormentingstaresofthose aroundher.Herpastandthesecretofherfamilyclung toherlikethick,darksyrup.Aslongasshestayed, shewouldonlyeverbethegirlwhohadneither familynor friends.So she hadpacked herbelongings andboardedaplanetoNewYorkwithallhersavings, whereshecompletelyreinventedherselfandlife finallybegan for her.

Nowshehadreturnedasanorphan.No,shehad returnedbecauseshewasanorphan,shecorrected herself.Emilyknewthatshewouldneverhavevisited Englandagainduringhermother’slifetime.She closedhereyesandheldherheaddirectlyunderthe jetofwater.ThefactthatEricaWatsonwasnolonger therefeltstrangedespiteeverything.Itseemedso untrue.Surreal.Shenolongerhadanyonewho belongedtoher.Deepdown,shehadalwaysknown thatthousandsofmilesawayinMaidenhead,there wassomeonewholovedherandwouldhugherif Emilyneededit.Thetheoreticalpossibilityhad alwaysexisted.

Not anymore.

Shehad run outof blood relatives.

Amerciless,powerfulwaveoflonelinessflooded overher. Shehuddledinthebath,putherheadonher kneesandbegantoweepbitterly.Emilynolonger knewwhethershewasmourninghermother’sdeath orlifewithher.Theworldaroundherseemedtobe sinkingintoadark,roaringholeoflonelinessand bitterness.

Atsomepoint,her tearsdried upand, exhausted,she leanedagainstthebrownfloraltilesabovetheedgeof thebath,liftedherarmalittleandabsentmindedly switched off thewater. Athoughtformedinherhead,andthestrongeritgrew the morethepainin her chest fadedaway:shehad to bestrong.Perhapsonedayshe’dfindahusbandin New York and startafamilywith him.Probablythen luck would finallyfind her to let herexperiencewhat lifeinahappyfamilyfeltlike.Untilthen, shehadto gritherteeth.Shehadn’tseenhermumforsixyears and,tobehonest,hadonlymissedhersporadically. ShehadgonetoNewYorkallalone,intoacompletelyuncertainfuture.Soshe’dcopewithlife asbefore,seeaboutherbusiness inLondonandthen returntoNewYorktocontinuespendingherlifein her new hometown.

Determined,Emilygotoutoftheshower,dried herself,putalittlemake-uponandgotdressed.Clean jeans,acomfortableblouse,adarkblueblazerand blacktrainersensuredthatshefeltsuitablydressed foravisittothesolicitor.Whenshewasreadyshe madeherselfteafromthehospitalitytraythatMrs Mallonhadputintoherroomtogetherwithsome biscuits.Emilypouredherteawithmilkandsugar andsavouredthefamiliartaste.InNewYork,she oftendrankEarlGreywhileworkingonher manuscripts.Shehadbroughtthishabitwithherfrom Englandandkeptitup.Inherchildhood,ithadbeen her mother who had prepared thetea and put it ather daughter’s desk when shewasbusywith homework. Shequicklyshook off the memories.

‘Just don’tgetsentimental.’

Totakehermindoffthings,sherangMeredithand wokeherfromadeepsleep. Itwasonlyhalfpasttwo in the morningin New York.

“I’msorry!Ohdamn,Iforgotthetimedifference! Sorry.It’salreadyhalfpastsevenhereandIwasup reallyearly.”

Meredithyawnedheartilyintothetelephoneand noisilysatupinbed.

“Nevermind,sweetheart. Everything okaywithyou?Howwasthenight?”

“Isleptlikead…likealog.Thelandladyisalittle chatterbox,butquitenice.Sheevenservedmechickensoupinthemiddleofthenight,wouldyou believe it?”

Her friendgrinned sleepily. “ThenobleEnglish way, eh?Itellyoufromadistance:Welcomehome, Emily.”

ForamomentEmily fellsilent,searchingforwords. “Thisisn’tmyhomeanymore.There’retoomany memories…athomeyouhavefamily andfriends.I don’thaveeitherhere.MylifeisinNewYork.I’lltry todealwiththingshereasquicklyaspossibleand then I’llflyback.”

Sheswallowedhardbeforeshestruggledtogetout, “Can Iaskyou forsomething?”

“Hm?”TheNewYorkerseemedtobehalfasleep again.

“WhenI’mback–wouldyoumindspendingafew nightsatmy place,orIstay atyours,justtohelpme copewith loneliness?”

Emilycursedherselfforhavingadmittedtothat feeling,butshecursedherselfevenmoreforthetears thathadstartedgushingdownhercheeks.

”Shit,my make-up!Oh, crap.NowIcan do it all over again.”

“Areyoucrying,honey?Hey, comeon.Yourmum died,you’reupset.It’sobviousthatyou’re completelyconfused!I’llsleepatyourplaceaslong as youlike,okay?You’renotalone.YOU ARENOT ALONE, doyou hearme?”

Emily askedherselfifgoodoldMeredithwasaware ofhowmuchshehadwantedtohearthesevery words,howmuchsheneededthem.Inaninstantshe feltconsolation,andwithaglanceintothemirrorshe realizedthathermake-upwasn’tasbadlymarredasshehad feared.

”You’resocute.Thankyou.I’llputthephonedown nowandgodownstairstohavebreakfast.Ihopethe landladydoesn’thavehaironherteethlikeshedid lastnight.Otherwisemybreakfastwillbeadisaster.”

ItwashalfpastninewhenEmilyfinallysetoffforthe officeofCaineandPartner.Tosavemoneyshetook theunderground after Prudyhad shown her on a map which lineto take to get there.

“You’llhavetowalkabit,MissWatson,but youstill haveyounglegs.”

Beforeshecouldlaunchintoanotheranecdoteabout herownyouth,Emilythankedherandwalkedwith theplanto thenextunderground station.

Inthelatemorning,shestoodonthebusystreetinthe heartofLondonandlookedupatthemodernbuilding thathousedthesolicitor’soffice.Busypeopleinsuits hurriedpasther.Apolice