(a/n - I want to thank you for reviewing. And yea, angst in the last chapter - poor Emmett, I hate to break his little heart so! But yes, time for a candlelight supper, how will Liz cope? And sorry, Emmett, it is a night of heartache for you, my boy.)
Chapter 6
"Elizabeth! You're a little late, dear, it is seven thirty two!" She tutted loudly whilst checking her watch. I waited for her to step backwards so that I could enter into her home. I was shaking more so than usual, a bundle of nerves. I think it was a mixture of Hyacinth and Emmett and guilt and fear and stories. I remembered which part I was playing tonight; I had become so used to being this fake me, this Hyacinth-friendly me, that my new freedom with Emmett felt almost like a dream, when in actual fact, it was my life. Yes, I may be an older woman than most to be falling in love, but I had. And I had hurt him not an hour before, by being the catalyst for the moment my two worlds clashed. The two that could never meet. I smiled at Hyacinth, who was inspecting my tan two-piece with a look of scrutiny one wouldn't even expect from The Queen. I made my way into the dining room, and cried out, sending my voice up a few octaves as if I was about to start singing As Soon As I Get Home from the production.
"Oh, Hyacinth! What a lovely table you have! It is perfect!" I sighed inwardly as the woman in question preened herself on her ability to set a table. Anybody would think that she had a degree in table setting.
"Yes, it is, isn't it dear? I was just saying to my Sheridan on the telephone-"
"Oh, Sheridan telephoned? Do tell me about his life at university."
"Well, dear, he and Tarquin are going to a new society together - the rainbow club, which I think is wonderful, I mean, learning about the weather through embroidery and cross stitch must be a wonderful experience..." Hyacinth prattled on in her own little world, as I laughed internally at her gullible nature - oh of course that's what the rainbow club was...
Hyacinth describing Sheridan's exploits lasted well into the dinner, which I was eternally thankful for. I had never actually met her son, but I would have to thank him if I ever did - his childhood exploits to the seaside had saved me from hours of awkward conversation. Finally, she brought up the question I had been dreading the most.
"So, Elizabeth, how is your husband doing?"
"Erm... Fine, thank you, Hyacinth." My fingers started to shake. I tried to quell them, but to no avail. Hyacinth stared at me. "His company is doing very well in research at the moment. Do you know, it is amazing the amount of recent research that has been done into oil, and how the effects of it could help to supply us with more power, Canada and the Middle East are particularly key in this..." Luckily for me, there had been some recent news articles in one of the newspapers that Hyacinth deemed 'too common' to read, and during my breaks at the theatre I had been memorising facts about the oil industry. You have no idea how much trivia I could tell somebody about the process of fractionally distilling oil in order to come by jet fuel and diesel and natural gases. It was all very interesting, actually. Hyacinth nodded along, and Richard smiled sympathetically towards me. I didn't actually need to mention my 'husband' a lot, just facts about oil, and she believed me. I suppose that it one of the positives of Hyacinth finding you simple, you can get away with almost anything. Almost being the operative word. I still had no idea how I was ever going to make a relationship with Emmett work while I lived next door to Hyacinth. But I so wanted it to work, Emmett was so dear and sweet. I felt a little melancholy about hurting him so earlier, and vowed to explain tomorrow morning. Hyacinth noticed my change in mood.
"Ahhh, are you okay, dear? Missing your husband? That's the positives of having a husband like Richard with an esteemed council position. I mean, abroad work is all good, Elizabeth, but you need a stable man." Hyacinth smiled in a way which I am guessing she thought was comforting, but in actual fact had the look of a patronising vet telling your five year old self that there's no need to worry, there's other kitties out there, and your cat wasn't that special. I rose soon after this, and bade my excuses to leave. She offered me coffee, to which I declined, as in my current state I am sure I would have managed to break a beaker and a cup and a milkjug.
When I was back in my own home, in my own bed, I lay down and cried a little. What had I done with my life?