(a/n - now for the Emmett style heartache, eh? Poor soul. I've also been rewatching hi de hi recently. And oh goodness, David griffin in a military style position. Well hello there. I may or may not have to find Emmett a situation to wear a uniform in. For reasons...)

Chapter 7

I walked home that night. In no mood for public transport in case some child was on there pressing the bell and I hadn't the control to refrain from throttling them. My mind was an absolute whirlpool of thoughts. Liz, the lovely, charming, innocent Liz, had somehow managed to play me for a fool. Never before had I imagined that a woman of her ilk would be capable of doing such a thing. But then, she was attractive, and I had wondered why she wasn't married. It would appear that she was. And yet she had still allowed me to behave the way I had with her, and she had gone along with it. I was struggling to fathom why such an apparently honest woman would do such a thing, and I could only consider one conclusion: she was unhappily married. And maybe she wanted to get away from her husband. I wasn't sure, but it was the only plausible situation. It started raining as I neared my flat, and I allowed the drops to dampen my hair to match my sodden spirits. I climbed the stairs to my cramped home and made myself a strong cup of coffee. Gulping it down I continued to mull over the woman who had captured me so much. What, pray tell, was her motive?

I flicked through the scripts of the day and though I knew that I had promised to change some scores and cut some script for the next day, I really couldn't concentrate on anything at all. I dropped the folder on the floor with a soft thunk and lay back against the armrest, shutting my eyes in a futile attempt at shutting out the horrendous thoughts plaguing my mind surrounding the woman who had captured my heart so.

I was awoken by the telephone ringing by my ear. That was funny, I told myself, for the telephone was located in the lounge, not in my bedroom. Then I realised that I must have fallen asleep upon the sofa. I checked the clock on the wall through bleary eyes. Quarter to midnight. Who on earth could possibly wish to speak to me at that hour? My mind went into overdrive - had one of my leads broken their leg? Had the hall set on fire?

"Hello?"

"Emmett! Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Liz?! What on earth do you want?"

"To speak to you."

"Has your husband gone to bed now?"

"I don't have a husband."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said, and it is a long story which I will tell you tomorrow. I phoned to apologise for being so rude earlier and for confusing you so. I feel ever so guilty! Please don't hurt yourself because of me!"

"I won't, Liz. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Of course, I still wasn't quite sure what she meant, but she appeared genuine. And then I had my creative burst. I completed all of my tasks - switching the slides for shuffle hop steps here and bringing the pitch down ever so slightly there and adding an extra little pun over there - by the time I was finished I was certain I would have the perfect show once all of the actors and chorus had learned the changes. At around three am in the morning I finally lay back against my pillows in my own bed and fell into a peaceful sleep almost immediately.