Read Online The Importance of Being Emma by Juliet Archer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Juliet Archer
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to give us the benefit of his food hygiene expertise. Even though Harriet wouldn’t actually be cooking and the photos were for market research purposes only, he felt duty bound to comply with health and safety requirements.
Then Mark phoned to say he’d like to come for some input to my mentoring. When I asked him what input he could possibly get from a photo shoot, he told me he’d learn a lot from watching me with Harriet and Philip; or, if I preferred business jargon, ‘observing me interact with my subordinates and peers’.
The day was looking more stressful by the minute.
Finally, to my relief, Kate volunteered to help with the lunch. Whereas Harriet and I would have made do with a couple of sandwiches while we worked, I now had six to feed. And we covered a whole culinary continuum: from Dad, with his poor appetite and fastidious tastes, to Mark, who could eat not just a horse but an entire stable.
Harriet and I had the house to ourselves for most of the morning. After we’d set out a buffet in the dining room, she prepared the kitchen, under my instruction, while I set up my high-spec digital camera and tripod. That took far longer than expected, because I hadn’t used them since my brief interest in photography a couple of years back. Then I dressed Harriet in the outfit I’d chosen, a grey suit with a pink polo-necked jumper underneath. I tied her hair back – just as Philip liked it, I reminded her – and toned down her make-up.
At half past eleven, the doorbell rang. When I opened the front door, I found myself grappling with an enormous bouquet of red roses, orange gerbera and golden lilies.
‘ For Highbury Foods’ new star,’ said a smarmy voice. Philip, evidently hoping to impress Harriet with flower power – but mistaking me for her.
I thrust the bouquet back at him. ‘How lovely! Now don’t be shy, go and give them to Harriet yourself.’
He seemed about to object; but I marched him straight to the kitchen, where Harriet was painting her nails, and announced his arrival with a flourish.
‘ Ta-da, special delivery for Miss Harriet Smith.’
Her eyes were like saucers. ‘Th-these are for me ?’
‘ Looks like it,’ Philip said, rather tersely, and I guessed he was a little in awe of Harriet’s new image.
I’d hardly put the bouquet in water when the doorbell rang again. It was Kate, with two foil-wrapped parcels.
‘ This one’s a quiche, fresh out of the oven, and the other’s some of our wedding cake.’ She grimaced. ‘I’m afraid Henry won’t touch either with a barge pole, but I know you’ll have catered for him separately.’
As if on cue, Dad came in and informed me that he’d just seen Mark’s car coming up the drive. I took a deep breath, added the finishing touches to the buffet and called everyone through to the dining room.
I wanted Harriet to eat quickly, so that I could get the photo shoot underway; the others could eat at a more leisurely pace, watching us at work in the kitchen if they wished. But Harriet wandered slowly round the room, staring at the furniture and paintings in stunned silence. Then she stopped right beside Philip, who was droning on to Mark about something, and beckoned me over excitedly. It seemed too good a matchmaking opportunity to miss; I curbed my impatience and went across to her.
She was studying a group of black-and-white photos in heavy silver frames. ‘These kids are so cute, who are they?’ She giggled. ‘That man’s got a funny look on his face, as if he’s constipated. The woman’s a bit like you, isn’t she?’
It worked beautifully. Philip broke off in mid-sentence and gave us his undivided attention.
‘ That’s my sister Izzy, her husband John – he’s Mark’s brother – and their children,’ I said. ‘I took these photos at their house the January before last. Not quite up to a professional’s standard, I know, too much clutter in the background. And the children were misbehaving, that’s why Izzy
Then Mark phoned to say he’d like to come for some input to my mentoring. When I asked him what input he could possibly get from a photo shoot, he told me he’d learn a lot from watching me with Harriet and Philip; or, if I preferred business jargon, ‘observing me interact with my subordinates and peers’.
The day was looking more stressful by the minute.
Finally, to my relief, Kate volunteered to help with the lunch. Whereas Harriet and I would have made do with a couple of sandwiches while we worked, I now had six to feed. And we covered a whole culinary continuum: from Dad, with his poor appetite and fastidious tastes, to Mark, who could eat not just a horse but an entire stable.
Harriet and I had the house to ourselves for most of the morning. After we’d set out a buffet in the dining room, she prepared the kitchen, under my instruction, while I set up my high-spec digital camera and tripod. That took far longer than expected, because I hadn’t used them since my brief interest in photography a couple of years back. Then I dressed Harriet in the outfit I’d chosen, a grey suit with a pink polo-necked jumper underneath. I tied her hair back – just as Philip liked it, I reminded her – and toned down her make-up.
At half past eleven, the doorbell rang. When I opened the front door, I found myself grappling with an enormous bouquet of red roses, orange gerbera and golden lilies.
‘ For Highbury Foods’ new star,’ said a smarmy voice. Philip, evidently hoping to impress Harriet with flower power – but mistaking me for her.
I thrust the bouquet back at him. ‘How lovely! Now don’t be shy, go and give them to Harriet yourself.’
He seemed about to object; but I marched him straight to the kitchen, where Harriet was painting her nails, and announced his arrival with a flourish.
‘ Ta-da, special delivery for Miss Harriet Smith.’
Her eyes were like saucers. ‘Th-these are for me ?’
‘ Looks like it,’ Philip said, rather tersely, and I guessed he was a little in awe of Harriet’s new image.
I’d hardly put the bouquet in water when the doorbell rang again. It was Kate, with two foil-wrapped parcels.
‘ This one’s a quiche, fresh out of the oven, and the other’s some of our wedding cake.’ She grimaced. ‘I’m afraid Henry won’t touch either with a barge pole, but I know you’ll have catered for him separately.’
As if on cue, Dad came in and informed me that he’d just seen Mark’s car coming up the drive. I took a deep breath, added the finishing touches to the buffet and called everyone through to the dining room.
I wanted Harriet to eat quickly, so that I could get the photo shoot underway; the others could eat at a more leisurely pace, watching us at work in the kitchen if they wished. But Harriet wandered slowly round the room, staring at the furniture and paintings in stunned silence. Then she stopped right beside Philip, who was droning on to Mark about something, and beckoned me over excitedly. It seemed too good a matchmaking opportunity to miss; I curbed my impatience and went across to her.
She was studying a group of black-and-white photos in heavy silver frames. ‘These kids are so cute, who are they?’ She giggled. ‘That man’s got a funny look on his face, as if he’s constipated. The woman’s a bit like you, isn’t she?’
It worked beautifully. Philip broke off in mid-sentence and gave us his undivided attention.
‘ That’s my sister Izzy, her husband John – he’s Mark’s brother – and their children,’ I said. ‘I took these photos at their house the January before last. Not quite up to a professional’s standard, I know, too much clutter in the background. And the children were misbehaving, that’s why Izzy
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