The Pursuit of Emma - Dave Moyer (top business books of all time .txt) 📗

to answer her but I was struggling to remember.

‘I’m not sure,’ I said at last. ‘How did I end up ...here?’

I remembered my visit to Raynmer and Stein, I remembered drinking and I remembered drinking some more. I could feel a bruise developing on my left hand and further examination found a few light cuts as well. Just what I needed. I must have been involved in a bar-fight at some point. There was certainly no recollection of that.

Sophie smiled and offered some answers to me.

‘When I got up to get the papers, I found you passed out on the landing stairs. I was really worried, I thought you’d fallen or something. But it was pretty easy to work out you’d been drinking. So I just about woke you up enough to get you up the stairs and thought I better keep an eye on you. Hence you being here.’

I looked around the room and could see a crumpled pillow and blanket lying on the sofa and suddenly felt real warmth towards my kindly neighbour. She was not much older than myself with long, wavy dark hair and pale white skin. She seemed to have a fragility which could probably be traced back to David’s handiwork and as a result, she'd never realised how kind and lovely she really was. Emma had made it her mission to fix that before... she left.

‘Thanks Sophie, you’re a real friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes. I smiled at her and wanted her to know how much I meant it.

‘You’re welcome. Anytime. But it’s your turn. Go on then. What happened? Did you find Emma?’

With great effort, I told Sophie everything. She already knew about Emma’s disappearance, so I skipped that and went straight to my conversation with ‘Becky’ at the law firm. She listened attentively, never interrupting, save a few gasps of sheer disbelief. As I spoke, the events of that evening slowly came back to me. I recalled leaving Raynmer and Stein and sitting on the steps outside, just trying to make sense of what I’d heard. How was any of this possible?

Eventually my story concluded and Sophie sat silently in stunned amazement. After a long while she spoke.

‘What does that mean? I don’t understand.’

‘As far I can tell, there are three possibilities. Number one, Becky doesn’t know what she is talking about. Number two, for whatever reason Emma worked under a completely different name and somehow managed to avoid eye-contact with the reception staff every day. Or, number three...she never worked there.’

Even saying the words made me feel sick.

‘Maybe this ‘Becky’ person was a friend of Emma’s and covered for her because she didn’t want to speak to you?’ Sophie was clearly trying to wrap her head around this too.

‘I don’t think so. Remember, I never revealed who I was so the receptionist wouldn’t know to lie. Plus, I don’t know anyone who is that good a liar.’

‘Number Two doesn’t make much sense, not that any of them do. I guess she could have changed her name but why?’ posed Sophie.

In my heart of hearts, I knew it wasn’t number two. Emma was not just beautiful, she was stunning. Everybody turned to look at her. Men wanted to be with her and women wanted to be just like her. There is no chance you wouldn’t remember seeing her face.

There was something else at the back of my mind that made me lean towards number three.

‘It’s too organised,’ I started. ‘Everything is too organised. She leaves and within hours her phone is disconnected. There is no way this can just be coincidence.’

‘But Tom, I met her for lunch there several times. I would wait in reception and see her come down the stairs several times.’

She was right. I had too. There must have been at least ten occasions when I would sit in reception and see her leave the lift, coming from the offices. Surely that had to be proof; she had to work there.

For the last few years our flat was strewn with legal documents and law books. Why would she have those? Then there were all the late nights and weekends she would have to work. Sometimes I’d even drop her off at Raynmer and Stein for goodness sake. This was insane.

I explained all of this to Sophie and between the two of us we searched for any plausible ideas. We came up with nothing. I knew this woman; I had to know her. I'd spent every night of our relationship together and had never once suspected anything.

‘Tom,’ Sophie began slowly. I could tell she didn’t want to say the next sentence but felt she had to.

‘Go on,’ I replied encouragingly.

‘Tom, I know it’s hard but try to take yourself out of this for a second. If you were just looking at the facts what would you say about this?’

I thought long and hard. Being objective with your own emotions is not the easiest thing to do but I tried to just imagine a whiteboard with main facts written on it. Eventually, I gave her an answer.

‘It feels like an affair. If I had to say, I’d say this woman was sneaking around behind her partner’s back and needed an excuse. Her new lover probably had lots of money so she just invented a job so she could sneak around all day and some weekends. Then eventually she falls in love with the new guy enough and decides to just leave. Sound about right?’

I looked at her painfully. She nodded, trying to conceal the stream of tears falling from her eyes. I was determined not to cry again. I was worried my body would break down soon unless I took some control over it.

‘I need to hear it from her,’ I said fiercely. ‘If this is true, I need to hear it from her. If she has found someone else, she would want a divorce right? I’m going to find her and make her say this to my face.’

‘But... how?’

‘I don’t know yet. I don’t know.’ I paced some more, wondering what my next move might be.

‘Go home, find every detail about your wedding; license, certificate, anything. Find it all and take it to a lawyer Tom. You never know what will help you find her.’

I looked up at her and smiled again. I loved it when she organised the group. She seemed to revel in it. Sophie worked in a private primary school in a nice area of the capital. It was a sheltered existence but it suited her perfectly. I could imagine her as a brilliant teacher. I bet the kids loved her.

‘You’re right. I will do. Listen, thanks for everything Soph. You’re a star.’ I walked over to her and hugged her firmly. It felt so nice to not be alone for a second that I didn’t want to let go. Eventually I had to, before it got weird.

Once I had gathered up my coat, I headed to the door. I turned to look at her one last time as she smiled bravely at me.

‘I’m here any time Tom, you know that.’

‘I know you are. Thanks.’ I opened the door, disappeared out of it before poking my head back through it.

‘Oh Soph. Promise me something?’

‘Anything.’

‘Don’t ever leave. I don’t think I cope without you too,’ I said weakly.

‘I promise.’

*****

The flat was cold when I got up there. I fumbled in my pockets for several minutes, worrying I had lost my keys. I finally found them in a pocket of my coat which I never used. Either I was very drunk last night or Sophie found them for me and put them in here. What would I do without her?

Reluctantly, I went in and proceeded to do anything but get out our wedding file. Yes that’s right I said wedding file. Most couples, I realise have an album of photos, etc but Emma had spent a full week off work making a file. This included the planning information from before, video and photos of the day and all our legal documents. I used to joke that I’d be lost without her as I had no idea how to organise my life. How right I was.

I think the thing I was most afraid of was breaking down. My mind was all over the place. How could it not be? My nerves were raw and my emotions felt shot. What was looking through old wedding photos going to do to me? I had to face it. Man up, damn it.

Two hours later, I was sat on the floor eating takeaway pizza and watching the whole ceremony on repeat. I hadn’t watched it properly since our first wedding anniversary and was amazed at how good it was. Not just the wedding, although that did run flawlessly. But the production of the video and the picture quality. It must have cost us a fortune but Ems organised everything from top to bottom. She had demanded it that way and I was more than happy to oblige.

I smiled one of my more mournful efforts when I saw the state of the wedding file, now separated from many of its inhabitants who lay chaotically all across the lounge floor. Emma would be so disappointed. ‘After all my hard work,’ I could hear her say. Then I would apologise, tidy it up and kiss her neck softly until her heart melted enough and she forgave me again. I missed her so much. But who was she? There was a very real possibility that I never knew the real woman at all and that all we shared were her pre-fabricated lies.

I had seen enough. Sophie was right, as usual. Tomorrow morning I was going to phone in sick to work (not they seemed to expect me in at the moment) and find a lawyer to track her down. I would find her.

I don’t know what it was that caught my eye but as I went to turn off the footage, I froze. What had just happened there? I thought I had seen something out of the ordinary. ‘Probably nothing,’ I muttered to myself and realised I was increasingly talking out loud when alone. Isn’t that the first sign of madness? I rewound the tape a little and focused my tired eyes as best I could.

In the video we had just been pronounced husband and wife and we turned to look at the clapping congregation. Well, at least I did. The camera was now filming from the far end of the aisle, attempting to keep the direction exciting no doubt, and it made it harder to see. I could just make out Emma’s blonde hair down the far end, underneath her veil and from where we were seeing things it looked as if she turned her body but kept her head facing the reverend, as if in conversation with him. Nothing strange about that, but with the clapping going she would have had to speak very loudly to get any words across. I don’t recall her shouting. Now, just before she turned to realign her gaze with mine it appeared that she shook hands with him.

It wasn’t the gesture itself that surprised me, it was just how out of place it looked. The more I watched it, the more it stood out like a sore thumb. It looked more like a business transaction then a warm touch of appreciation. ‘Where is the remote? I can never find the...stop talking out loud,’ I said out loud.

I found the fugitive remote underneath some of our wedding photographs, now removed from their protective, plastic casings and paused the video. Searching through the menu of options I eventually found a way of zooming in. Despite the quality of the recording, I lost a great amount of detail and clarity when zooming. A few feet loses focus, so you can imagine how blurry my picture was when I zoomed the length of a church. I played it again.

‘That