The Pursuit of Emma by Dave Moyer (novels for teenagers .txt) 📖

on my feet and use the lockers. I knew Tom would be smart enough to work it out.’

I blushed a little, perhaps with embarrassment. It shouldn’t have taken me as long as it did to find it. I felt like an idiot.

‘And for the next few weeks I was kept like a prisoner in the house. Any attempts to communicate with Tom and both of us were dead. Any activities that weren’t planning a job or actually doing one were banned under threat of death. It was pretty horrible.’

I had a question I needed to know the answer to. ‘Did they hurt you?’

‘Not at all. One of the Russian guys with them was a bit rough with me once and I broke his nose so out of respect they kept their distance. As long as I did what I was told there was no reason for anything to go wrong.’

‘Were you scared?’ asked Rachel.

‘Of course, but I was just praying Tom was in the Bahamas somewhere, out of danger. I didn’t expect him to turn up the way he did.’

Emma recounted the tale of the way I had walked, portraying me in a very good light, before asking me to explain exactly what happened at the Dorchester that night. I did, making sure to miss out how nervous I had felt and just explain the facts (with a few embellishments). Time passed by amicably as they all listened in silent awe to what I had done.

‘You’re a fucking idiot, but you are one brave bastard,’ summed up Jack. That was probably a fair character assessment.

Eventually most of the questions were answered. There was just one huge gaping hole I could think of. Before I could ask it, Sophie beat me to it.

‘So explain to me why you were always at ‘Raynmer and Steins’ if you didn’t work there. What did you do all that time?’

‘Yeah,’ I added, pointlessly.

Emma smiled mischievously at us before laughing.

‘That is a good question. You see, when I met Tom, I panicked and when you asked me what I did, I couldn’t very well say I was a professional con-artist so I said...’

‘A trainee lawyer,’ I finished for her.

‘Exactly, so then you actually liked me and I fell in love, I only had the time we were in Mallorca to create this whole life back in London. I had a flat in London and was planning to move there anyway so it made sense...’

‘You didn’t live in London beforehand?’ I exclaimed.

‘Not properly, so I found a respectable law firm nearby and decided to tell you that was where I was working, whilst I carried on stealing. Except, I soon realised that I didn’t want that life anymore, I wanted to be an honest citizen. But it wasn’t that easy because you started driving me to work or meeting me for lunch so I had to keep pretending I worked there.’

‘So how did you get past the security guards and reception?’ Jack asked.

She gave him a pitying look. ‘Please. It’s what I do.’ We all laughed. I had seen Emma in action and she could do anything she pleased.

‘That wasn’t the hard part, but it was difficult once I was inside. I had to find a way of getting in and out to look convincing so I found an office which had a fire escape and a big safe and conned the cleaning staff that the management wanted it used as storage. It was easy really. The bosses never communicate with the cleaning staff and the cleaners will do what they think head office tells them to, so before long I had a base to work from. I could come and go from the fire escape as much as I pleased.’

‘So did you need to go past the security guards?’

‘Probably not, but I enjoyed the challenge,’ she smiled.

‘OK, so I get why you were in there but what did you do every day for years?’

‘I started a business. I used some of my ‘money’ to set up a little cafe around the corner and ran a properly honest company. I hired a manager and everything so I could just pop in when I wanted to and whenever you asked to meet up for lunch I would go back through the fire escape and back down the stairs.’

‘Are you serious? Why didn’t you just tell me you had left being a lawyer to work in the cafe... which cafe by the way?’ I asked. I guess it didn’t really matter, but all the lies... it was still hard to take in.

‘I wanted to but how could I? Give up a law degree and where did I get the money to start a cafe? Too many questions. That was the only time I used my money, I swear, until I gave it to you. It’s a little place called ‘Sweet Tooth’ just off Harper Street.’

I wasn’t angry. We had been through too much together to let this upset me but it was a shock. All this time she had set up a small, successful cafe and worked honestly amid her world of lies and crime. I was almost proud of her.

‘I know ‘Sweet Tooth!’ shouted Sophie. ‘I've been there loads, it’s great. What if I had seen you?’

‘It was a worry; everything was. I was going to tell you all, I promise.’ Tears began filling her eyes. I imagine the weight of all of her lies finally coming off her shoulders must have felt amazing. It was all too much for her and I held her tight until the tears stopped.

‘It’s alright darling, everything is fine. Is there anything else you want to tell us?’

She looked exhausted but was happy to be sharing.

‘Not today.’ Chapter Thirty-Three

‘I bought the wrong teabags; can you believe it?’

Things settled down after the wedding. We held the ceremony on a beach in St Lucia and I made sure this one was legitimate. I know it sounds like a cliché but life really does go on and three months after the wedding, things were remarkably like they had been after our ‘first’ wedding.

We bought a new flat in a nicer area with three bedrooms. Enough room for guests to stay or perhaps a... baby? We hadn’t started trying yet but it was something we were definitely discussing. The new place was fairly spacious for London and the compromise had been that it was in need of some serious renovation. We had taken a month off together and then Emma returned to the cafe part-time, making sure it would continue being successful. We still had plenty of money and I decided to take a few months off to decide what career I wanted and to fix up our new place. It was only a ten minute walk from our old place and Sophie often walked round and helped me with the decorating. After three months we were well on our way to completing it.

I began procrastinating, if I am honest. I realised as soon as the home was made homey, I would have to plot out a future for myself. But what could I do? The only thing I was qualified in was accounting and right now I would rather be locked in a cell with the Kozlovs than go back into accounting. I doubted that Hamilton’s would give me a glowing reference after the way I had quit.

There was something else too. I had changed. This whole experience had been a wild journey and one that had altered everything I believed in forever. How could I go back to normality? What was normal? I was just getting used to death threats and difficult con-jobs and whilst I didn’t miss having a gun pressed to my head, I did miss feeling... alive.

I wanted to deny how I was feeling but it was the truth. Living without Emma had been the worst experience of my life (and I don’t miss a second of that!) but when I found her and what we had to achieve became apparent, it did change me. It was terrifying and horrendous at times, but it was exhilarating. After a while you get to need the rush; the hit of adrenaline. I understood how easy it was to fall into a life of crime now. All you have to do is stumble upon the lifestyle; if you succeed at it, why would you want to stop? Apart from the whole moral aspect of stealing of course.

It wasn’t just me who was struggling. Emma was twitchy; I could tell. Something had woken up inside her and although the relief was enormous, the mundane swing of civilian life was stressing her. There would be days of total bliss and then there would be others where nothing I could do would be enough. I would never describe it as ‘trouble in paradise’ but things weren’t perfect. Maybe when the house was finished or when we got pregnant... then it would be enough.

I actually caught myself saying the sentence, ‘I bought the wrong teabags; can you believe it?’ Emma didn’t say anything but she would have been fully entitled to punch me in the face. It is not exactly the most unbelievable story ever, especially after what we had been through recently. It was barely worth mentioning. Scratch that, it was definitely not worth mentioning. Something had to change. Who even has the right type of tea? I’ll tell you who: old pensioners. Not young, trendy people in their twenties.

*****

One Sunday afternoon we were resting after a particularly exerting walk and reading the papers. It was nice. Emma had brought some cake back from the cafe and we were content to make our way through both that and the papers. Emma had the main body of it, whilst I was chewing threw the sports (not literally).

‘Are you finished with yours?’ I asked, through a mouthful of carrot cake.

‘Yep,’ she replied, tossing me the paper. ‘I’m going for a bath. Give me a few minutes then you can join me if you like?’

‘I’ll be there.’

She disappeared and I began leafing through the news. The usual catalogue of war and political bullshit fell out and I skimmed past it looking for something to capture my imagination. Towards the back of the paper something caught my eye.

It was a large red circle surrounding a particular news story. The red was added recently as it was not yet dry. Emma had done it to draw my attention to it. I smiled and pulled it closer to focus my eyes. It read:

HIDDEN TREASURE UNVEILED IN MEXICO TODAY

The world’s largest collection of Incan gold will be put on display next week for the first time in Mexico City. Found two months ago by a team of archaeologists, it has been lovingly restored to perfect condition. The collection, considered to be worth well over $100 million, is now the largest known group of Incan gold and artwork in the world.

I flicked through the rest of the article but couldn’t take my eyes off the first paragraph. Why had Emma circled it? As a joke? Unlikely. I knew exactly why she had drawn my attention to it. She felt the same way I did inside. I tore out the article and