Read Online The Importance of Being Emma by Juliet Archer - Free Book Online

with anything.’
    ‘ Someone needed to keep her under control. But I’ve been away a long time … ’ I gave a rueful smile. ‘Henry obviously still has faith in me, he’s asked me to mentor her. That’s why I’m here, it’s our first meeting.’ Kate eyed me over the rim of her teacup. ‘You might have a battle on your hands, she’s not a little girl any more.’
    ‘ I had noticed.’
    ‘ Every time I see her, I think she looks more stunning than last time.’
    ‘ She’s certainly prettier than she used to be,’ I said, getting up and walking to the French windows.
    ‘ Pretty?’ Kate sounded outraged. ‘I’d call someone like Harriet pretty, but Emma’s absolutely gorgeous, she could easily have been a model.’
    ‘ Too curvy,’ I said, staring out at the garden.
    ‘ Nonsense, look at Sophie Dahl. And Emma’s one of those lucky women who don’t need make-up, such a beautiful complexion, Tom says she’d make a fortune promoting vitamin tablets.’ She paused. ‘You must see a huge change in her after eight years, surely?’
    Henry had asked me the same question; this time, Emma wasn’t around to hear my answer. I watched a robin hop onto the edge of the bird bath, its vivid red breast a reminder that winter was on its way; and when winter was over, I’d be going back to India.
    I took a deep breath and let down my guard. ‘I do see a big change, I hardly recognised her at first. As you say, she’s gorgeous. And she doesn’t seem to realise how attractive she is. She’s never been vain, at least not about her looks – ’
    I jerked round as the door burst open and Emma came in, looking extremely pleased with herself. ‘Harriet’s had to go, but we’ve had a great time.’
    Kate stood up and turned to me. ‘Told you it would do her good,’ she said, under her breath.
    Emma’s face fell. ‘No need for you to go too, Kate. Mark and I want to hear all about Tenerife.’
    ‘ Mark and you need to have your meeting, I’ll tell you about Tenerife tomorrow when you and Henry come for lunch. Don’t worry, I’ll see myself out.’
    And then it was just Emma and I, at last.
    She picked up the tea tray. ‘I’ll make some fresh, won’t be a moment.’
    ‘ I’ll come with you, we can start the meeting in the kitchen.’ I was determined not to let her out of my sight in case she invented more delays.
    I sat at the kitchen table while she made the tea. I told her the ground rules for mentoring; when and where we’d meet, what information I’d expect her to provide, and so on. I explained that a mentor would help her deal with the longer term, with strategic business goals and career objectives, whereas her line manager, Henry, was there for day-to-day performance issues.
    As I spoke the words I’d rehearsed, I watched her. The swing of her hair when she turned to refill the milk jug. The little frown when she prised the lid off the tea caddy. The curve of her breasts when she reached up to a shelf for more sugar. And those slender fingers caressing the handle of the kettle as it came to the boil, then directing its flow expertly into the silver teapot.
    How could she make such a simple everyday task look so sexy?
    ‘ By the way,’ she said, as she brought the tea tray over, hips swaying in time to the throb of my pulse, ‘I read something interesting the other day about organic farming in India.’
    ‘ Checking up on me?’ I said.
    She avoided my gaze and set out the cups and saucers. ‘Actually, it does give me a bit of an issue with your so-called successful track record. I hadn’t realised that organic methods were causing such massive environmental problems in India.’
    I frowned. ‘What on earth do you mean?’
    She sat down and poured the milk into the cups. ‘All the irrigation water that’s needed to produce organic foods and manure and animal fodder. It has to be pumped from deep underground, so it’s draining reserves without replacing them. Rather irresponsible,