by Jill Mansell
But he still couldn’t believe he was about to do what he was about to do.
It was totally out of character, not like him at all, but since being seized by the plan, Rory hadn’t allowed himself to think of that. Instead, leaving Suzy in the office, he had driven straight to Suzy’s apartment and rung Suzy’s doorbell. Firmly, several times.
Finally, he rang the bell for Fee’s apartment, which was directly below Suzy’s.
Fee answered the door wrapped in a green toweling robe and with her hands behind her back.
“I’m sorry. Did I get you out of bed?” Mystified, Rory realized that beneath the toweling robe, she was wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants, socks, Nike sneakers… What on earth was going on?
Fee, blushing slightly, said, “Of course not. Hi, is it Suzy you’re looking for? I heard her doorbell being rung.”
“I’m desperate to find her.” Rory was amazed to discover how easy it was to lie when you had a real incentive. “I know her car isn’t here, but I still had to try the apartment. You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, by any chance?”
“No. Suzy left for work at the usual time.” Fee’s green eyes widened. “Has something dreadful happened? It’s not Harry, is it?”
“Nothing like that,” Rory said hastily. “Just an office crisis.” He paused. “Donna’s gone down with the flu. We have to get someone in to replace her, and when I phoned DreamTemps all they could offer us was a sixteen-year-old with limited filing skills—and that’s probably her nails. Suzy’s got the contact number for another agency; that’s why I’m so desperate to track her down… If we can’t get somebody else by midday we’ll have to settle for—Good grief, what happened to your arms?”
He broke off, staring in horror at Fee’s forearms. While he’d been talking, she’d forgotten to keep them hidden behind her back, and now, with the sleeves of her robe falling away, he could clearly see giant white bandages concealing goodness knows what.
Some terrible injury? Or…?
Rory prayed she hadn’t been out and gotten herself tattooed.
Going pinker still with embarrassment, Fee promptly tried to shrink her arms into her robe’s sleeves, like snails prodded with a stick.
“Oh, it’s nothing, really.”
Alarmed, Rory said, “Of course it’s not nothing! What’s going on?” Seizing Fee’s right arm, he examined the unusual strip of bandage, then gazed at her in bewilderment. “Did you hurt yourself?”
“No, but I’m just about to.” Fee sighed, giving up the struggle to retain a shred of dignity. “Come on in. You can watch if you like.”
Still totally mystified, Rory followed her into the apartment.
“I put this on to try to hide my arms,” Fee explained, removing her robe. “When the doorbell rang, I thought you were the meter reader. Anyway, here goes.”
Peeling a corner of the first bandage away from her skin, she gritted her teeth, visibly braced herself…and pulled.
To Rory’s utter amazement, there was no sign of blood underneath. Neither—phew—were there any tattoos.
“And again,” said Fee, screwing up her eyes for a second as she repeated the process on the other forearm.
Still no blood.
Rory, shaking his head, said, “I don’t get this at all.”
“It’s a girl thing.” Fee smiled slightly at his innocence. Rolling up the discarded white bandages, she said, “These are called waxing strips.”
“Waxing what?”
Rory had never read a women’s magazine in his life. He hadn’t the faintest idea what she was talking about.
“I have hairy forearms,” Fee explained. Honestly, this was worse than imparting the facts of life to a ten-year-old. “I don’t like having hairy forearms, so I wax them. You spread hot wax on your arms, lay the strips on top, wait until the wax is set, then rip off the strips. It pulls the hairs out by their roots.”
Rory winced. This was all news to him.
“But…doesn’t that hurt?”
“Not much,” said Fee. “Only about as much as childbirth.”
“Couldn’t you just shave?”
“Stubbly forearms.” Fee wrinkled her nose. “Not attractive.”
“Oh, right, yes… I see…” Totally thrown by this waxing business—which just went to show how hopeless he was where women were concerned—Rory tried to remember what he was doing here.
“Poor Donna,” said Fee. “Flu, how awful. She’ll be off for a couple of weeks.”
That was it, Rory thought with relief.
“Well, I’d better make a move.” Adjusting his glasses, he backed toward the door. “See if I can track down Suzy and the number of that agency.”
Fee, remembering how much she had enjoyed the work last time, said bravely, “I could always be your temp, if you think I’d be good enough.”
Yes yes yes! thought Rory.
“No no no,” he protested aloud, shaking his head and giving her a look of gratitude mingled with regret. “Oh no, it’s a wonderful offer, but I couldn’t possibly let you do that. It’s far too much of an imposition.”
“I’d like to help out,” Fee said eagerly. “I can juggle my voluntary work for a couple of weeks—”
“But this time you’d have to let us pay you.”
“OK.” Her eyes bright, Fee rubbed her tingling pink forearms and said, “When would you like me to start?”
“After lunch?” Rory was overjoyed. His plan had actually worked, and the buzz was even greater than if he’d just sold a house. For the next fortnight Fee would be there in the office. When he walked in each morning they’d smile at each other, say hello, take turns making the coffee, exchange—
“Well, well, speak of the devil.” Fee was peering out of the window. “Here’s Suzy now.”
It could have been intensely embarrassing. Somehow Rory got through it. Suzy shot him a couple of deeply suspicious looks but, miraculously, didn’t give him away.
“You’ve definitely got some nerve.” She shook her head at Rory and tut-tutted with disapproval as they left the house together ten minutes later. “Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you fancied Fee.”
* * *
When they arrived back at the office, Martin was on the phone.
“That’s great, seven o’clock at the Greyhound… Oh, don’t worry about her. I’ll just say I’ve got to work late.” He winked at Suzy, who rolled her eyes to heaven.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Martin grinned at her as he hung up. “It’s not as if I’m seeing another woman. Just a few of the guys getting together for a couple of drinks… Where’s the harm in that?”
“I don’t know,” said Suzy. “Why don’t you ask Nancy?”
“D’oh!” Martin clapped his hand to his forehead. “You said it! You said the N word.”
“She’s your wife.”
“She’s my nag. Nagging Nancy.” He groaned theatrically. “Whose mission in life is to stop me from having even the tiniest bit of fun.”
Hugely tempted to give him a good slap and tell him to grow up, Suzy glanced at her watch. “Don’t you have to be at Carlyle Road by midday?”
“She’s got it! By George, she’s got it,” Martin crowed. “The way you narrowed your eyes just then, and that do-as-you’re-told expression… Suzy, it’s perfect! You’re going to make Harry a great nagging wife.”
Chapter 28
At four o’clock, Fee was alone in the office enjoying herself tremendously. The typing was going like a dream. She had a list of phone messages to pass on to Rory, Suzy, and Martin when they returned from their various appointments. Prospective clients had been dropping in all afternoon and she’d offered them coffee, chatting with them about the kind of property they were after and sending them away with the appropriate particulars…
“Hi.” Fe
e smiled brightly as the door swung open again. “Can I help you?”
“You certainly can,” declared a startlingly pretty girl with a cloud of dark curly hair. “You could come hold this door open, for a start.”
Taken aback by this request, Fee nevertheless did as she was asked. Maybe the girl was struggling with a double stroller or a relative in a wheelchair.
But when she reached the door, Fee saw a cab tick-ticking outside, and the girl energetically hauling a succession of black trash bags off the backseat and out onto the pavement.
What on earth was going on?
“Ummm…is this a delivery of some kind?”
This was the trouble with being new to a job, Fee realized. It could be a regular Wednesday afternoon arrangement.
“A delivery? Oh, definitely,” said the girl, now throwing the full bags through the open door and into the office. “Special delivery for Martin Lord.”
“Er…can I ask what it is?”
“All his worldly goods, basically. You’re new, aren’t you?” said the girl. “I’m Nancy, Martin’s wife. Soon to be his ex-wife.”
“Oh, good grief.” Fee gazed at the small mountain of trash bags in horror. One of them had split open and a tangle of trousers and shirts, like ruptured intestines, was spilling out.
“Don’t look so worried. He deserves it.” Nancy shrugged and pulled a crumpled envelope from the back pocket of her pink jeans. “He’ll probably be thrilled. Could you make sure he gets this?”
Fee’s eyes widened. “Shouldn’t you give it to him?”
“Look,” Nancy said pleasantly, “Martin’s not interested in being married. He doesn’t care about me, and he hardly ever sees our children. He’s probably got himself another woman, but to tell you the truth, it doesn’t even bother me anymore. So you just make sure my husband sees this letter, OK? And tell him not to bother coming around to the house because I’ve already had the locks changed.” As she hopped back into the taxi, she added, “Oh, and I hope he has a nice time tonight, working late.”
* * *
“What the…? Is this some kind of joke?” Martin demanded when he read the letter two hours later.
“I don’t think so. She didn’t sound as if she was joking.” Fee opened the door leading through to the back room and indicated the pile of shiny black trash bags stacked up against the far wall. “I put your stuff in here.”
“I don’t believe it! What does she think she’s playing at?” Martin stared at the bags, then back at the letter, then angrily at Fee. “What the hell d’you think you were playing at, letting her do this?”
Fee, who was a lot braver than she looked, stood her ground as Martin glared at her. The next moment the glass door flew open, and Suzy and Rory piled into the office behind him.
“I wasn’t playing at anything.” Fee’s gaze was unwavering, her tone ice cool. “According to your wife, you’re a lousy husband and father, and you’re having an affair with another woman, and she doesn’t want to be married to you anymore. Now that’s your problem, not mine, so I’d rather you didn’t shout at me.”
Martin’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. With her dark red hair, innocent green eyes, and russet angora cardigan, it was like being savaged unexpectedly by a baby squirrel.
“What’s this?” Suzy was instantly enthralled. “Has Nancy kicked you out?”
Exasperated, Martin pushed his hair off his forehead.
“Of course she hasn’t kicked me out.”
“She has,” said Fee. “And she’s changed the locks.”
“She has not.” Martin shook his head. “She’s just having a go at me because I called her and said I’d be working late tonight.”
“How can you have an affair?” Suzy was utterly disgusted with him. “Nancy’s lovely. You’ve got a beautiful wife, gorgeous children—”
“I’m not having an affair!” shouted Martin.
“You know what you’re going to need?” Suzy asked conversationally.
“What?”
“A new iron. Your clothes are going to get horribly crumpled in those black bags.”
* * *
“I know I should feel sorry for him,” said Suzy, when Martin had piled the bags into the back of his metallic green Renault Mégane and roared off to talk some sense into Nancy. “But I just can’t. He so deserves this.”
Rory, who had spent the whole afternoon looking forward to coming back to the office, crossed to the door and put up the Closed sign.
“Right, well, I wouldn’t say no to a drink.” He rubbed his hands and struggled to sound casual. “How about it then, to celebrate the end of Fee’s first day… Suzy, how does a drink sound to you?”
Suzy sighed and rotated her head and shoulders. “I’ve got to go see Harry. And I ache all over.” She winced, stretching her arms behind her back. “God, how did the muscles in my neck get so scrunched up?”
“Fee?” Rory said hopefully.
“I can’t either.” Fee looked apologetic. “I’ve got an evening class at the Folk House. Come on, sit down,” she told Suzy, patting the chair next to her. “Let’s have a look at that neck of yours.”
“Oh, bliss,” Suzy murmured as Fee’s expert fingers set to work on her bunched-up muscles.
“You know what you’re like when you get stressed out,” Fee scolded. “Right, now tip your head forward and let your shoulders go.”
Suzy, her rippling tawny hair spilling over her face, carried on groaning and sighing in ecstasy as the massage began to take effect. Rory, hunched over his own desk trying to work through a pile of letters that needed signing, tried not to listen but was unable to prevent himself glancing over every now and again. He could only imagine how it must feel, to be massaged like that.
Beneath his suit and crisp white shirt, his own shoulders felt naked and neglected.
I’m tense too, Rory thought longingly, wishing with all his heart that Fee would do the same for him.
* * *
“Want to come to the hospital with me?” offered Suzy, pulling off her lime-green shirt as Lucille poked her head around the bedroom door.
“I was just about to ask you if you wanted to come to Leo’s new restaurant,” said Lucille. “It’s the opening night.”
Suzy kicked her lilac high heels into the corner of the room and wriggled out of her skirt.
“Is this a joke?” Grinning, she reached for her robe. “Leo’s actually invited us to the opening of a fast-food joint? Hey, glitzy! Who needs champagne and canapés when you can have Coke and a burger and fries?”
Lucille started to laugh. “Leo’s restaurant isn’t like that. They don’t do burgers. Are we talking about the same Leo here?”
Suzy was taken aback. “Harry said it was. He told me Leo had a chain of fast-food outlets.”
As she spoke, Suzy frowned. Harry had described Leo’s business in such a derogatory fashion that she hadn’t pursued the subject. Nor had she ever discussed it with Leo; being such a concerned, caring sort of person, she had thought he might be a touch sensitive about making his money out of such a tacky venture.
And she deliberately hadn’t asked Lucille about the burger bars because she didn’t want her to think she was interested in Leo.
“Harry was joking,” Lucille explained gently. Roughly translated, Suzy realized, this meant Harry was mocking his brother’s business because he was bitterly jealous of Leo’s success. “You’ve heard of the Alpha Bar in Chelsea, right?”
Suzy nodded. Of course she had.
“And there are Alpha Bars in Glasgow, Manchester, Brighton, and Cardiff?”
Light dawned.
“Oh God.”
“And now there’s one in Bristol too,” said Lucille.
“So Harry wasn’t lying when he said there was a chain of them.” Suzy sighed. The Alpha Bars catered to the
ir namesakes, attracting the most glamorous, stylish, and successful clientele from miles around. Immaculate attention to detail, stunning food, and inspired decor—deep purple and dark green marble-mirrored walls were a signature feature—had all contributed to the company’s success.
And Leo Fitzallan was the boss.
Well, well, who’d have thought it?
Happily, Suzy said, “Great, yes, of course we’ll go. When did Leo invite us?”
At this, Lucille hesitated. Cautiously, she pulled an embossed purple and green card from the pocket of her jeans.
“Well, Leo gave me this last week…”
She was prevaricating. Mystified, Suzy reached for the card.
“Lucille Amory and guest?” Her eyebrows shot up even more dramatically than her voice. “You mean he didn’t even invite me? That’s all I am…and guest?”
“I thought he would have.” Lucille hastily concealed her discomfort with a so-what shrug. “He must have forgotten, that’s all. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, does it? We’ve got the invite here. We can both go!”
Suzy was having trouble getting her eyebrows down again; they felt as if they were lodged up there for good. Indignation wasn’t the word for how she was feeling.
This was…outrageous.
“No, no, really, I’m fine. You go. I have to visit Harry anyway.” Belatedly remembering her earlier plans, Suzy headed for the shower.
Not fooling Lucille for a moment, needless to say.
“But I’m sure Leo meant to invite you too. He’d definitely want you to be there,” she protested.
“If he wanted me to be there that badly, he’d have put my name on the invitation list,” said Suzy. She forced herself to turn and smile at Lucille, to prove that she wasn’t the one at fault here. Oh no, this was entirely Leo’s doing. Probably to pay her back for accidentally kissing him the other day.
And that had been all his fault.
“I feel awful now,” wailed Lucille.
“Look, don’t worry about it. You go and have a great time. Anyway, Harry’s expecting me.” To make up for having completely forgotten about him earlier, Suzy vowed to be extra nice to Harry tonight. “I couldn’t possibly let him down.”