“I liked my life! I want it back.”
“That was the life where you were working like a machine and living with a man with the emotional compass of a rock?”
“I liked my job. I knew what I was doing. I was competent. And Neil and I may not have had a grand passion, but we shared a lot of interests.”
“Name one.”
“I— We liked eating out.”
“That’s not an interest. That’s an indication that you were both too tired to cook.”
“We both enjoyed reading.”
“Wow, that must have made the bedroom an exciting place.”
Emily struggled to come up with something else and failed. “Why are we talking about Neil? That’s over. My whole life now revolves around a six-year-old girl. There is a pair of fairy wings in her bag. I don’t know anything about fairy wings.”
Her childhood had been a barren desert, an exercise in endurance rather than growth, with no room for anything as fragile and destructible as gossamer-thin fairy wings.
“I have a vivid memory of being six. I wanted to be a ballerina.”
Emily stared straight ahead, remembering how she’d felt at the age of six. Broken. Even after she’d eventually stuck herself back together, she’d known she wasn’t the same.
“I’m mad at Lana. I’m mad at her for dying and for putting me in this position. How screwed up is that?”
“It’s not screwed up. It’s human. What do you expect, Em? You haven’t spoken to Lana in over a decade—” Skylar broke off, and Emily heard voices in the background.
“Do you have company? Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Richard and I are off to a fund-raiser at The Plaza, but he can wait.”
From what she knew of Richard’s ruthless political ambitions and impatient nature, Emily doubted he’d be prepared to wait. She could imagine Skylar, her blond hair secured in an elegant twist on top of her head, her narrow body sheathed in a breathtaking designer creation. She suspected Richard’s attraction to Sky lay in her family’s powerful connections rather than her sunny optimism or her beauty. “I shouldn’t have called you. I tried Brittany, but she’s not answering. She’s still on that archaeological dig in Crete. I guess it’s the middle of the night over there.”
“She seems to be having a good time. Did you see her Facebook update? She’s up to her elbows in dirt and hot Greek men. She’s working with that lovely ceramics expert, Lily, who gave me all those ideas for my latest collection. And if you hadn’t called me I would have called you. I’ve been so worried. First Neil dumped you, then you had to leave your job, and now this! They say trouble comes in threes.”
Emily eyed the child, still sleeping in the car. “I wish the third thing had been a broken toaster.”
“You’re going through a bad time, but you have to remember that everything happens for a reason. For a start, it has stopped you wallowing in bed eating cereal from the box. You needed a focus and now you have one.”
“I didn’t need a dependent six-year-old who dresses in pink and wears fairy wings.”
“Wait a minute—” There was a pause and then the sound of a door clicking. “Richard is talking to his campaign manager, and I don’t want them listening. I’m hiding in the bathroom. The things I do in the name of friendship. You still there, Em?”
“Where would I go? I’m surrounded by water.” She shuddered. “I’m trapped.”
“Honey, people pay good money to be ‘trapped’ on Puffin Island.”
“I’m not one of them. What if I can’t keep her safe, Sky?”
There was a brief silence. “Are we talking about safe from the press or safe from other stuff?”
Her mouth felt dry. “All of it. I don’t want the responsibility. I don’t want children.”
“Because you’re afraid to give anything of yourself.”
There was no point in arguing with the truth.
“That’s why Neil ended it. He said he was tired of living with a robot.”
“I guess he used his own antennae to work that out. Bastard. Are you brokenhearted?”
“No. I’m not as emotional as you and Brittany. I don’t feel deeply.” But she should feel something, shouldn’t she? The truth was that after two years of living with a man, she’d felt no closer to him than she had the day she’d moved in. Love wrecked people, and she didn’t want to be wrecked. And now she had a child. “Why do you think Lana did it?”
“Made you guardian? God knows. But knowing Lana, it was because there wasn’t anyone else. She’d pissed off half of Hollywood and slept with the other half, so I guess she didn’t have any friends who would help. Just you.”
“But she and I—”
“I know. Look, if you want my honest opinion, it was probably because she knew you would put your life on hold and do the best for her child despite the way she treated you. Whatever you think about yourself, you have a deep sense of responsibility. She took advantage of the fact you’re a good, decent person. Em, I am so sorry, but I have to go. The car is outside and Richard is pacing. Patience isn’t one of his good qualities and he has to watch his blood pressure.”
“Of course.” Privately Emily thought if Richard worked harder at controlling his temper, his blood pressure might follow, but she didn’t say anything. She wasn’t in a position to give relationship advice to anyone. “Thanks for listening. Have fun tonight.”
“I’ll call you later. No, wait—I have a better idea. Richard is busy this weekend, and I was going to escape to my studio, but why don’t I come to you instead?”
“Here? To Puffin Island?”
“Why not? We can have some serious girl time. Hang out in our pajamas and watch movies like we did when Kathleen was alive. We can talk through everything and make a plan. I’ll bring everything I can find that is pink. Get through to the weekend. Take this a day at a time.”
“I am not qualified to take care of a child for five minutes, let alone five days.” But the thought of getting back on that ferry in the morning made her feel almost as sick as the thought of being responsible for another human being.
“Listen to me.” Skylar lowered her voice. “I feel bad speaking ill of the dead, but you know a lot more than Lana did. She left the kid alone in a house the size of France and hardly ever saw her. Just be there. Seeing the same person for two consecutive days will be a novelty. How is she, anyway? Does she understand what has happened? Is she traumatized?”
Emily thought about the child, silent and solemn-eyed. Trauma, she knew, wore different faces. “She’s quiet. Scared of anyone with a camera.”
“Probably overwhelmed by the crowds of paparazzi outside the house.”
“The psychologist said the most important thing is to show her she’s secure.”
“You need to cut off her hair and change her name or something. A six-year-old girl with long blond hair called Juliet is a giveaway. You might as well hang a sign on her saying ‘Made in Hollywood’”
“You think so?” Panic sank sharp claws into her flesh. “I thought coming out here to the middle of nowhere would be enough. The name isn’t that unusual.”
“Maybe not in isolation, but attached to a six-year-old everyone is talking about? Trust me, you need to change it. Puffin Island may be remote geographically, but it has the internet. Now go and hide out and I’ll