Dear Emily

By Anastasia Bishop

Four women. Four secrets.

Meet forty-something friends Hannah, Sarah, Jodie and Emily.

Self-centred Hannah is a divorced workaholic, more focused on her career than her young son.
For Sarah, who lives in an affluent, leafy suburb of Oxford, outward appearances are everything.
Jodie uses her jet-setting lifestyle as an excuse to sleep with lots of men and avoid seeing her Mum.
And then there's Emily, who is just trying to make the best of life with her husband Jonathan.....

When they come together to celebrate a special event, it tests their friendship more than ever before.
It soon becomes clear that they don't know each other as well as they thought, and that they are hiding secrets about their lives, past and present.

Then tragedy strikes and it forces them to assess what is important in their own lives and those of each other.

This book highlights that even as we get older, we all have insecurities, but true friendship endures beyond our own misgivings.

Contemporary fiction about the intricacies of friendship, hidden truths and self-discovery.

 

Reader Note: I believe a good book should be immersive, but it should also be enjoyable. If you want more information on some of the themes in the book please visit my website.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anastasia Bishop
• Release date: Dec 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223105473

Anastasia Bishop

I write about women, for women, on themes including friendship, relationships and self-discovery. Thank you for showing an interest in my book/s.  I have loved writing for as long as I can remember. As a child, I would shut myself in my room and write stories, prose and poems. After studying at university, I have spent most of my career in the commercial sector, whilst also juggling a family, and writing in my spare time when I can. I have stories in me to tell, so now I'm a little older, wiser and have more time for myself, I'm finally making my writing official! Writing is like an itch that needs to be scratched, and mine's been itching for a long time! I hope you enjoy what you read!

Book preview

Dear Emily

Anastasia Bishop

To all my girlfriends, who were the inspiration for the story, but none of whom are like the characters in this book.

‘A friend is one who overlooks your broken fence and admires the flowers in your garden’ – Anonymous

Prologue

She must’ve been late today. The sun was low in the sky. It was already hidden behind the thick canopy of yew trees on the far side of the church. She laid the daffodils next to the headstone and sat in her normal place on the bench by the kissing gate, listening to the squabbling crows. They weren’t the kind of birds to take pleasure in. She wondered what on earth they could have to argue about. Arguing got you nowhere for the most part. She knew that as much as anyone.

‘I’m sorry’, she whispered.

Then, after half an hour she got wearily back up and made her way back in the direction she had come from. It was dusk now, so she made no attempt to rub away the black smudges that had appeared under her eyes.

Part I

Friday

Emily

‘Hattie still hasn’t laid any eggs.’ Emily came rushing through the back door, dragging in the early morning sunlight, bird song and wafts of damp cut grass.

‘That’s three days now. We should probably keep an eye on her in case she’s sick or something. Still, we’ve got six from the others, so we won’t starve.’ She paused, slumping on the nearest chair and brushing a hair out of her eyes. ‘I noticed we’re getting low on feed, though, so can you pick some up after work please?’

Jonathan looked up from the newspaper he was reading and took in his wife’s bright, green eyes; her vibrancy, her energy and her customary blue jeans and T-shirt. She had a tiny white feather lodged in her hair. She was beautiful.

He smiled at her. ‘Of course, Sweetheart. You look beautiful this morning.‘ He didn’t tell her about the feather.

Emily blushed uncomfortably and looked down at her hands. She still found it hard to hear compliments from her husband. She would need to wash them; she noticed she had dirt under herfingernails.

‘I need to get more diesel, anyway,’ he continued, ‘so I’ll get the feed at the same time. I’ll pop to the grave on my way home, too.’

Emily swallowed and stared blankly at a coffee stain on the kitchen table. She’d tried for ages to get that out, used all kind of polishes and various wood stains, but it just wouldn’t budge. Her eyes caught sight of the yellowing bruise on her arm, finally fading now after the accident. She couldn’t look at him. Anywhere but his face. She remained silent and it felt like forever before the tension eased and he finally moved. He scraped his chair across the flagstones as he got up and folded the paper.

‘Well, I suppose I’d better get on. The quicker I go, the quicker I’ll be back. Remember we have dinner tonight with Tim and Nina.’

Emily didn’t know what she’d have done if they hadn’t hit it off with their new neighbours the way they had. Having a friendly face around had made the world of difference to her, especially in recent weeks. Knowing she could just wander in at any point for a chat was a comfort.

‘See you later, Sweetheart. I love you.’ Jonathan planted a kiss on Emily’s forehead and confidently breezed out of the door.

Emily waited until she heard his car on the gravel and the gate scraping across the concrete before she relaxed. She guessed she’d have a couple of hours before he was back. Then the game would begin again. She still didn’t get the rules right all of the time, so she relished being on her own. Now she was, she could follow her own rules. She felt herself relax knowing she was the one in control again. She put the eggs in the fridge, setting one aside for her breakfast, almost forgetting she hadn’t eaten yet. Next, she folded up the newspaper that Jonathan had been reading, ensuring all the pages were neatly aligned, and placed it on the chair. She had to resist the urge to put it back in the newspaper rack, but she knew that he’d be cross if he couldn’t find it when he got back, and that was against the rules of the game. She loaded the dishwasher with his dirty breakfast things and then she set to washing the floor. She preferred a bucket and a cloth and to get down on her hands and knees rather than using the mop. That way she could really scrub; she liked to feel the pain as the effort put pressure on her knees. When she got up they were red and sore. Finally, she scrubbed all the surfaces and the table thoroughly, laying a knife and fork precisely side by side in readiness. Order mattered. It helped her cope with the rules of the game. Then she allowed herself to eat.

The sun was still hot and streaming in through the open window as they got dressed for dinner.

Emily was looking forward to seeing her neighbours, Nina especially. She’d been good to her in the past and they had become firm friends. When she hadn’t been able to leave the house, Nina had popped in every day, made her coffee, tidied up and just sat with her for a while. Besides, it was always better when other people were around. She felt safer. And the weather was glorious. She had chosen her favourite dress to wear, one she knew Jonathan also liked.

She’d been so excited about taking that trip into town, sanctioned by Jonathan, of course. She had left the local area so infrequently in the last two years, and even less so without him, so she couldn’t wait to get away for a bit, and to spend the money he’d given her. He had dropped her in the village and it had felt good to climb on the bus, watch it speed away from the coast and into the city. Emily had sat at the back, like she used to when she was young, listening to music the whole way. She realised how much she had missed these kinds of trips, and being able to mingle and browse at her own leisure. She had come home with several bags and feeling happier than she had in a long time. She had been really careful to spend her money wisely. Fortunately Jonathan had approved of her choices.

The dress she bought was strapless, flared slightly just below the waist and falling to knee level. She smiled at herself in the mirror, as she sat at the window to put on her make-up. She found she had to squint in the sunlight, and the room behind her was cast in shadow. She didn’t notice the silhouette of her husband until he was almost at her shoulder.

‘Why don’t you pull the blinds down, Sweetheart?’ He moved to recline the roman blinds without waiting for a response. His tall frame blocked the sunlight temporarily, and Emily’s eyes adjusted to a new dimness in the room.

‘I love the feeling of the sun on my face. Can you leave them open?’

Jonathan ignored her, continuing to pull them down, and then walked into the bathroom. She watched his moving back in the mirror and considered whether to roll the blinds back up, but decided against it. It was too much of a risk. She was near enough ready, anyway, and it would be dark when they got home, so it probably made sense. Whilst she loved the sun on her face, she hated looking out at darkness. It always made her feel as if she was being watched, although rationally in her head she knew this couldn’t possibly be the case. Anyone coming anywhere near their house would need a car, instantly making their presence known in the otherwise silent lane. The thought made her shiver again, as it always did when the curtains weren’t tight shut at dusk.

She followed her husband into the bathroom to wash her hands.

‘You look lovely,’ he said. ‘I love that dress.’ He tilted his head to one side then. ‘But I think I prefer the green one. Can you wear that one instead?’ He paused, tucking his shirt into his shorts and doing up the belt. ‘I went to the grave on my way back from town this morning.’

She twisted around to look at him, but he was focussing on his buckle. She could picture the grave so clearly in her head. She traced her finger over the engraving in her mind – she knew the exact direction that each letter took as it was revealed beneath her finger to spell out the words on the headstone. Initially, she had been there every day, all day. She knew the trajectory of the sun as it moved across the sky, the length of the shadows cast by the yew trees, the flight of the birds from tree to tree. She knew when people came and went, how long they stayed, who they visited. She knew when the bell ringers practised and the organist ran through the hymns for the Sunday services, the brash, clamorous notes bursting through the open doors, so that she could no longer hear the birdsong or the gentle whisper of the breeze along the paths.

‘I didn’t stay long’.

You never do, she thought.

‘They were preparing for a wedding....putting up the garland around the door.’

How convenient for you. Emily swallowed hard and resisted the urge to say anything. She tried to slow her breathing.

‘It didn’t feel right somehow. I left some fresh flowers. I found some with lilies in, which I know you like.’

Oh well, that makes it all OK then. Well done, you. Instead, she managed a ‘Thank you’ and smiled wanly.

He smiled back at her in the mirror. He was greyer than when they had met and had more wrinkles around the eyes, but he was just as confident and possessed the same charm that had attracted her in the first place. He loved her in his own way, she knew that. He came closer and put his hands on her waist, meeting her eyes again in the mirror, kissing her on the neck.

‘Go and change quickly, otherwise we’ll be late. I’ll see you downstairs in a minute.’

Emily nodded silently.

Five minutes later she stood in front of the mirror again. She could see why Jonathan liked the green dress – it complimented her eyes, but it was just that little bit tighter in all the places it shouldn’t be. She didn’t feel comfortable. She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. Compulsively, she straightened the brushes on her dressing table and lined up the bottles again, methodically checking each item one by one. Then she washed her hands again just in case, rubbing them hard with the towel until they were puce. She took one last look in the mirror and rushed downstairs to meet her husband, leaving the roman blind tapping softly against the open window.

Hannah

It was stifling. The trains pushed and pulled the humid, stale air across the platform and yanked Hannah’s neat bun into a tousled mess. She pushed her way into the carriage and wedged herself into the corner. She gently teased the front of her blouse to let in what little air she could gather from the cramped space around her, watching her fellow travellers, engrossed mainly in digital devices of some kind. No-one was talking. Bracing herself against the glass partition, she expertly rearranged her bun. Then she whipped out her phone and sent a quick text to the nanny:

Will be late home tonight. Could you give Jacob his dinner? There is also a pile of ironing in the spare room and if you could run the hoover round the bedrooms Milo was sick on the carpet yesterday. Something he ate in the park. See you later. Hx

The tube rattled on through the tunnel and jostled into the next station. The doors whipped open, sending another shaft of tepid air into the carriage and pushing a column of people in and out. The man next to her shifted his weight and reached an arm over her head to grab the handle. She turned sideways to avoid his armpit, swaying with the train as she did so and holding her breath to avoid inhaling a combination of his cigarette-scented sleeve, aftershave and body odour. She still loved London, although less so when it was like this. She remembered as if it was yesterday, that sense of excitement she had felt after she had graduated. London was the only place she had considered looking for a job, and the novelty hadn’t worn off.

She checked her WhatsApp and saw a string of messages on the school chat. Honestly – do those Mums have nothing better to do than ask silly questions about things that really don’t matter? They all seemed to lack initiative. Proof if ever Hannah needed it that stopping work to bring up kids reduced your brain cells to mush.

Emily had added a message to the group chat in response to Sarah’s photos from her trip away. She hadn’t seen them yet, so scrolled through quickly and without really paying them any attention wrote: Great photos!

She switched to her ‘To-do’ list for the day and moved instantly to business mode. Finally, she checked her Linked In profile again, grinning to herself at her new job title of HR Director at Forresters Law. She’d now had one hundred and ninety two different notifications from people congratulating her on her promotion. She swelled with a sense of pride and accomplishment. All the hard work had been worth it, and she adored her job. She didn’t know what she’d do without it, to be honest. She paused the podcast she had been listening to about avoiding burn-out.

The train came to a sudden stop, making her nudge the man with the armpit. She mumbled a ‘sorry’ and dropping her phone in the front pocket of her laptop case, she exited the carriage.

Reapplying her lipstick as she went, Hannah sped up to the 12th floor in the lift, wondering again why the HR department had to be right at the top of the building. It was such a pain and added a good five minutes to her commute. She imagined it was so that staff could come and have a ‘confidential’ chat, without other department members scrutinising them through the glass panels. It had been designed to be ultra-modern and create a clean, light space, but there really was nowhere to hide. All the offices were open plan, and all the meeting rooms had glass walls, but they may as well not have had walls at all. As far as Hannah was concerned, you didn’t come to work to hide, and if you felt like you needed to, you probably shouldn’t be there in the first place. It was a manager’s paradise! Lawyers were sworn to secrecy most of the time, and she remembered when she’d first started working here, how they pounced on any opportunity for ‘harmless’ gossip. A smile or an anxious frown observed during a meeting with HR, became a promotion or a redundancy within a matter of minutes. Sometimes, however, there were confidential projects. With people flitting from floor to floor, having an HR department with half the office passing by when you are trying to conduct a disciplinary probably wouldn’t have been ideal. Still, it was inconvenient. The result of this was that staff only came to the 12th floor to see her department. Much to the disgruntlement of her team, it meant they had less frequent opportunities to fritter away their time with idle chatter.

Hannah strode across the floor, swinging her laptop. She unlocked the door to her office in the far corner, pausing to read her name plaque and job title again, as she had done every day for the last week. She still used her married name at work. It wasn’t really what she wanted, but far easier than changing all her business cards and letterheads. Plus she didn’t want to explain to everyone that she had reverted to her maiden name and why. It was none of their business. Hannah stood in front of the floor to ceiling windows, gazing at the wide, bright view of London. When you stood right next to the bottom pane, it made you feel like you were floating in the sky. Hannah loved it; she thrived on the buzz of the capital and couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

She smiled to herself when she thought about the way her mother had questioned their judgement when they refused to move after Jacob was born.

‘But you’ve got no garden’, she had pointed out, as if Hannah wasn’t already aware of that fact.‘You can’t bring up a baby in a flat without a garden. Where will he play? He will need to be outside when the weather is good. You can’t keep him cooped up all day!’

It made Hannah sound like some kind of tyrant who was planning to keep her offspring in a cage. I mean, really? It wasn’t as if their maisonette was small. ‘Bringing up a child and having a dog in London are just as viable as anywhere else, Mum.’ Even as she’d said it she knew that her friends would vehemently disagree, but settling in a rural or middle-class suburban area like them would have driven her to distraction. ‘Our flat is bigger than a lot of houses, Mum. Are you not forgetting that your house is not exactly huge?’ She pictured the tiny, red brick terraced house she had grown up in. ‘And surely you realise there are parks in London? Plenty of them.’

Her Mum had tried to protest, but it had fallen on deaf ears. If anything, Hannah and Jacob would enjoy more of an outdoor life than most other people, as they’d have to walk everywhere. There was no way she was going to struggle with a pram on the tube, she’d said. She’d seen it too many times and it was frankly embarrassing. More often than not, the poor woman ends up having to ask for help, and that’s after blocking the entrance to the stairs, forcing everyone to push past, tutting, swearing and exchanging exasperated looks.

She’d felt guilty then. She knew her parents had done their best; she had had a good upbringing and she and Adam had never wanted for anything. But life hadn’t been that exciting, either. She couldn’t help thinking her parents could have done more with their lives and she somehow felt responsible for that. How many sacrifices had they made for her and Adam? Success did not equal living with 2.4 children in a slightly dull but comfortable Victorian terraced house in a town which hadn’t kept pace with a modern and globalised economy. Of course saying that really would be pushing it too far, so she kept quiet.

She supposed that her Mum thought she was repeating the same mistakes, that she was ‘just making do’ with her maisonette in London, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. She’d ( they’d ) worked hard to afford their place in Camden, and she wasn’t going to let anyone convince her she should be living elsewhere. Least of all her Mum, who wouldn’t have known that their flat was likely worth several times more than her own pokey red brick terrace.

Hannah stared at the view a while longer then tugged on the blinds reluctantly. Unfortunately she spent most of her day with them down to prevent the permanent glare on her computer screen; another definite design flaw of this modern building.

Her PA, Mary, wasn’t in yet. Hannah found it vaguely annoying that she had to wait for her. The arrangement that allowed her to drop her daughter at school each morning was something agreed by her predecessor, and certainly not what Hannah would have accepted. Mary was a single mother like herself, but Hannah knew that Mary’s own Mum lived close by. She ought to be available when Hannah needed her, so why she couldn’t get someone else to drop her child at school, she wasn’t quite sure. She made another mental note to bring it up when the time was right.

Hannah scribbled three messages onto ‘Post It’ notes and stuck them on Mary’s screen.

‘Morning, Ladies’ she called across the bank of desks. ‘Kick off meeting for the new HR strategy this morning at 9.30. Bring your thinking caps.’

Then she went to the kitchen to tackle the coffee machine.

Hannah glanced at her bedside clock. The light was bleeding through the blind and settling behind her eyelids. She wished she’d gone for the blackout option now. It wouldn’t be long before Jacob came padding in to ask for breakfast. She couldn’t wait until he was old enough to make his own, although there was still the dog to worry about. She groaned and pulled the pillow over her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a lie-in. She should probably try and take some of her holiday, she just didn’t know when. She needed to make her mark at work. Taking holiday so soon after promotion wasn’t an option.

‘What are you doing, Mummy?’ Jacob’s little voice interrupted her dozing from the doorway.

Hannah threw the pillow across the bed, forcing herself to laugh. ‘Sorry, Munchkin. It was too light and I was still tired.’

‘You looked funny.’ He bounded onto the bed. ‘Like you didn’t have a head’

Hannah smiled. ‘You hungry?’

She levered herself slowly out of bed and untwisted the oversized T-shirt she had slept in. Jacob bounded down the stairs ahead of her. As soon as he reached the bottom, Milo came bounding over, tail wagging, for his morning cuddles. He ignored Hannah. Opening the fridge, she realised it was virtually empty. Thank goodness Jacob was with Guy again this weekend. They had a few slices of bread left and just enough butter for toast; she’d have to drink her coffee black this morning. She unplugged her phone from its cable as the kettle boiled and sent a quick text to Guy asking him to pick up milk on his way over.

By the time the toast popped up, Jacob had settled in front on the TV and Milo was