Conspicuous Danger

Chapter One

Emma

I pull up outside the dance school in my new, shiny bright red Toyota.

Well, not exactly brand new. My budget wouldn’t stretch to that, so it’s second-hand. But the way the car slides into the parking space with ample room to spare is a novelty, and I breathe a sigh of relief that I no longer have to park Shaun’s enormous Audi within the designated white lines.

I check the clock on the dashboard and am gratified to see that I’ve arrived a good ten minutes early. Maisie will still be in her ballet class. I turn Smooth Radio down low, rest my head back and close my eyes.

Like every other parent I know, my life seems to consist largely of work and ferrying Maisie to her hobbies, particularly since she joined the dance school about a year ago.

Today is Monday, which in our world means ballet. It’s jazz and tap on a Friday, and she’s just started freestyle disco on Tuesday nights, which my mum has reluctantly agreed to pick her up from. That’s before we get to performance art at the church hall a couple of times a month.

My mum has been retired from her job as a school librarian for three years now. Her life is busy, not least with catching up with old friends and trying out her own new hobbies. She’s fond of saying, with a chuckle, that she doesn’t know how she ever found the time to go to work before.

She was already helping out with driving Maisie around, and so I tried to appeal to her sympathetic side when Maisie announced she’d also like to go to the new disco class.

‘You see, I can’t just finish work every day at five o’clock sharp any more, Mum, not now I’ve got the new job. More often than not it’s six, sometimes seven before I even leave the office these days.’

‘They’ll come to expect you to work late every day if you’re not careful, you know.’ Mum pressed her lips together. ‘I can pick Maisie up from the new class until she breaks up from school for Christmas, but I can’t keep it up indefinitely, Emmeline. I’ve agreed to start a new line-dancing class with Kath in September and it’s scheduled for Wednesday nights.’

Cantankerous Kath, as Shaun likes to call her, is Mum’s best friend.

‘Seriously? People actually still doline dancing?’ I pasted a look of exaggerated horror on my face. ‘I thought it had died out at least a decade ago.’

Mum’s head whipped around and I quickly looked away so she didn’t see me trying not to laugh. Served her right anyway, calling me by my full name, which I’ve hated since primary school.

Everyone calls me Emma these days. Except Mum, if she can help it.

But I have to admit, she’s right about my hours. Since I started my new dream job, my working day seems to bleed later and later into the evenings.

It’s what Shaun and I always expected. The new position came with so much more responsibility, but I knew it was crucial I proved myself from the off. After all, I love what I do and the extra time is no hardship; the long days at work fly by.

Like I told Shaun, it’s best we think of overtime as an investment for the future, rather than unpaid hours.

‘An investment in your future, you mean,’ he said in that playful way he often tries to pull off when he’s using humour to cover his irritation.

It’s a shame he feels the need when everything is going so well at last.

You see, Shaun and I… we’re not together any more.

Well, that’s not strictly true. We are still – to all intents and purposes – very much together. We’re just not together likethat. We’ve called time on our marriage, on our emotional attachment as husband and wife.