Page 102 of Be More Octopus

Her phone alarm went off. She stirred in her sleep, picking the phone up and putting it down to snooze it. But it carried on ringing. She looked at the screen, struggling to focus. It wasn't the alarm at all. It was a call from Jack. Em was wide awake now.

She'd missed the call. But at least he must be ok.

She tried to call him back. Caller busy. He must be leaving a voicemail. She tried again, her heart beating so fast she could barely hear herself think. It rang out. Please answer.

'Hello.'

His voice sounded gravelly. Had he been drinking? Or perhaps he hadn't slept much either.

'Sweetheart are you ok?' she said. He must've heard the relief in her voice.

'Is that what you call Connor? It's what he calls you.' He spoke so calmly, it was chilling.

'I'm so sorry about the mix-up. I tried to explain last night. Connor came to try to get me back ….'

Jack talked over her. 'I'm not interested in stories. I've spent the last five years hearing Isabella's extravagant tales. It took me a long time to see through them. But I'm an expert at spotting a liar now. If you think you can spin me some feeble yarn to explain away why you screwed him, you can think again. Christ. It was only a few hours after I left your bed. Wasn't I good enough?'

'I didn't screw him. I offered to put him up because he had nowhere else to stay.'

'And I guess you were saving water by showering together? You must think I'm a gullible idiot.'

'I know how it must've looked, but I swear I've not done anything wrong. Ask Nancy.'

'Have you been lying to her as well? I know those tricks. Isabella is an expert. Getting my friends and family on her side. You're just like her. I can't believe I fell for it again. '

' But Jack ...'

' I don't want to listen to you any more. I called to tell you it's over. I don't want to see you or hear from you again. I hope that's clear.' He ended the call.

Em sat back on the sofa. This time yesterday, she'd been on cloud nine imagining their life together, and now he'd pulled the rug from under her feet entirely. She remembered the Luke situation. He had calmed down fairly quickly after that. Hopefully, he'd do the same this time.

Part Three

Autumn 2018

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

It was a misty October morning in North Devon. Em had been out photographing the pockets of fog nestling in the valleys behind Dashford Grange. She had a portrait sitting later that morning; otherwise, she'd have spent much longer outdoors. She did lots of walking these days. Being out in nature calmed her, and concentrating on looking for scenic views to paint took her mind off Jack. It was odd how when she left Connor, she had been able to draw a line under their relationship quickly. She'd barely thought about him at all. Jack was different - unfinished business.

Em opened the front door to her flat and walked in. She felt a rustle of paper under her foot on the doormat. The postman had been. She picked up the envelope.

Her address was printed, but it had a traditional stamp rather than the pre-paid postage that junk mail usually had. There were no other clues other than a London postmark. She should have been loading her painting gear into the car, but the envelope intrigued her. She got a knife from the cutlery drawer and opened it neatly. The paper had the logo of the annual Unity portraits prize at the top.

Dear Ms Gillespie

Shortlisted portraits

Following our email, please find enclosed your official invitation to the prize giving, a label for the back of your artwork and instructions on how to deliver your piece to the gallery.

What were they talking about? There must be some mistake. The letter carried on for another page and a half. She skim-read the rest of it.

It was thanking her for entering their annual competition, but she hadn't entered any competitions, let alone one as prestigious as this. She hadn't had an email either. It must be a scam. She'd have to read it properly when she got back after lunch. One part caught her eye as she put the letter on the coffee table - the title of the portrait: Professor Jack Carver on Dashford beach.

Had Jack entered it on her behalf? But that was ridiculous. He hadn't even seen the finished painting. And he hadn't responded to any communications from her since that last phone call. Lucy had fallen out with Mark, so she hadn't heard anything via that route. Jack had even ignored Nancy. Em felt tears in her eyes, remembering the hurt and frustration.

Her phone buzzed. A reminder to leave for her appointment. She put her art equipment in the boot of the car and set the sat nav.

Nancy was sweeping up leaves when Em got back just after lunch. 'Thought I'd make the most of the autumn sunshine. What have you been up to?' she said, leaning the broom against the wheelbarrow.