by Jill Mansell
“Well, that’s good. So what have you done to be so terribly ashamed of?”
Another tear dropped onto the thumb of his left hand.
Then another, and another.
“I’m j-jealous of Lucille.” Suzy hung her head. There, it was out. She’d said it at last. She was officially a mean and despicable person.
Now he’ll really hate me.
“Go on,” Leo prompted.
At least he hadn’t given her a disgusted whack on the head with the soggy tea towel.
“I know how awful that sounds,” Suzy muttered. “I mean, we were the ones who grew up in the big house in Sneyd Park and went abroad for our vacations. Lucille didn’t have any of that. She didn’t even have a full-time mother, for heaven’s sake. But…but at least she understood why Blanche couldn’t always be there, and she knew Blanche loved her.” Oh, this was hard. Biting her lip, Suzy forced herself to go on. “All the time I was growing up, I could sense that my mother was on edge. She did her best to be cheerful, but really she was just doing her duty, counting the days before she could disappear abroad on another of her jaunts. Except now I know it wasn’t that at all. She was counting the days until she could be with William and Lucille again, like…like…”
“Yes?” Leo hadn’t moved; he was still holding her.
Suzy sighed. “Like when you’re seven and you know you have to finish your vegetables before you’re allowed any pudding.”
“And you were one of the vegetables?”
“Not even the sweet corn or the asparagus,” she said miserably. “I was probably the cabbage. Don’t laugh. This isn’t meant to be funny.”
“I wasn’t laughing,” Leo promised, turning her around to face him. The corners of his mouth twitched. “Well, not at the way you felt. I just had a mental picture of you sitting on a dinner plate covered in gravy.”
“Huh, thanks a lot,” said Suzy, miffed.
“Seriously,” said Leo, “I can understand why you might feel like that. But you really mustn’t.”
“Do you hate me now? For being jealous of Lucille?”
He gazed down at her for a long moment. “I don’t hate you at all.”
Hypnotized by his mouth, Suzy realized that—help!—it was moving closer. He was going to kiss her. His hands were moving up her back, and, oh yes, he was definitely going to kiss her…
Chapter 41
In the nick of time, Suzy realized what was happening. Damn Leo Fitzallan. It was nothing but a trick, yet another underhanded attempt to catch her out and prove what a heartless two-timing hussy she was.
Like a boxer in the ring facing a lethal left hook, Suzy ducked out of range. Deftly breaking the circle of his arms, she shrieked, “Good grief, is that the time? I promised Maeve I’d be back by five. She’ll be wondering where I’ve gotten to! Now, where did I put my car keys?”
“Suzy—”
“I’ll take this home with me too.” Still gabbling, Suzy reached across the kitchen table for the blue-and-gold tin and squashed the incriminating Duran Duran diary into it before forcing the lid on. “Oh, phone… Hello? Yes? Can I help you?”
Too flustered to realize that the ringing cell phone she’d picked up was Leo’s and not hers, Suzy was taken aback when a fuzzy but astonished-sounding female voice said, “I’m sorry, who’s speaking please?”
For a split second she couldn’t think. Then it came back to her.
“Suzy Curtis of Curtis and Co. If this is a property inquiry—”
“Suzy, hi! It’s Gaby,” the fuzzy female voice exclaimed delightedly. “What are you doing answering Leo’s phone?”
What?
“Oh! God, sorry, I thought it was mine! Hang on.” Suzy felt a rush of color sweep like a tidal wave up her neck. “He’s right here. I’ll pass you over—”
“No need,” Gaby cut in cheerfully. “I’ve worked it out now. You’re both still over at the house. Look, I’m on the train. I just called to let Leo know we’ll be pulling into Temple Meads in five minutes, so if he could come pick me up, that’d be great. If he’s too busy, I can get a cab.”
“No, no, he’s not too busy.” Suzy looked at Leo, who was still standing over by the window. Imagine if she hadn’t dodged out of the way in time; he’d still have been busy kissing her senseless when the phone had begun to ring.
And unlike Harry, who was only a pretend fiancé, Gaby Price was the Real Thing.
“Sure?” said Gaby. “Because it’s no problem, if you’ve still got stuff to do.”
“Absolutely sure,” Suzy replied firmly. “We’re finished here anyway. He’ll meet the train.”
“There won’t be anywhere to park.” Leo’s tone was brusque. “Tell her to wait outside, next to the taxi stand.”
“Didn’t you ever see Brief Encounter?” said Suzy. “Don’t be so lazy. Meet her on the platform. Far more romantic.”
* * *
Rory phoned Suzy at home on Sunday evening on the pretext of needing to check that the sale of a rather glamorous house in Leigh Woods was still going through.
“Of course it’s going through. They’re closing on Wednesday. You know that.”
“Just double-checking,” Rory said briskly. “I took a call from a client who was interested in the property.”
“Well, he can’t have it. Tell him to choose another one.”
“Right. Fine. Oh—how’s Fee, by the way?”
Subtle or what? Rory thought with a surge of triumph. He’d managed to slip the question in as a kind of ultracasual afterthought. To hear him, no one would ever guess he’d spent the last two hours practicing those exact words in front of a mirror.
“Fee? She just called. Her mum’s OK, but she’s definitely going to be stuck down there for the next few weeks.”
The next few weeks. Suzy made it sound like nothing at all. As far as Rory was concerned, it was a disaster, like having your jaws wired together without warning and being casually informed by the surgeon that you wouldn’t be able to eat solid food for the next few months.
“Anyway,” Suzy went on, “tell me how it went.”
“What?”
“Your relaxation weekend. I want to hear all about it!”
For a split second, Rory hesitated. Should he tell the truth or attempt the bluff? Except he was the world’s most hopeless liar, and whenever he tried it, he was always caught out.
Usually by Suzy.
“I didn’t go.”
“Oh, you’re kidding!” Suzy wailed. “Why not?”
Because I couldn’t face turning up on my own, Rory longed to blurt out, because I’d have found it too stressful. And I only ever agreed to try it in the first place so I could go with Fee.
But since he certainly couldn’t admit that to Suzy—he was thirty-four years old, for heaven’s sake—he said vaguely, “I had things to do. Paperwork to catch up on.”
“You mean you couldn’t be bothered,” Suzy declared crossly. “Oh well, that’s just fabulous. Thank you so much for letting me know.”
Startled, Rory said, “Why? What difference would it have made to you?”
“Quite a lot, as it happens,” Suzy yelled into the phone. “Because I spent the whole day sorting out Mum’s stuff, and a helping hand would have been nice, but oh no, Julia was too busy, Lucille was too busy, and—”
“You didn’t ask,” said Rory, bewildered.
“Because I thought you were away in Wales!”
“Look, I’m sorry, but you aren’t being fair—”
“Aren’t I? Aren’t I? So just how fair do you think it is, leaving me to do everything myself?” Suzy was shrieking now, her rising voice doing painful things to his telephone ear. Taking a step back, unaware that his other foot was resting on the telephone cord, Rory unknowingly yanked the connector out of the wall.
The phone
went dead, and he heaved a sigh. Suzy was in a major fit and had slammed down the receiver. Typical of his volatile younger sister to overreact.
Oh well, maybe it was for the best, Rory decided as he hung up. Give her a chance to sleep on it. Dramatic and over-the-top Suzy might be, but at least she wasn’t the kind to hold a grudge. By tomorrow morning, with any luck, she’d be fine, back to her usual sunny-natured, happy-go-lucky self.
* * *
“I don’t believe it,” squealed Suzy, staring at the receiver in disbelief. “You utter, utter bastard. How could you?”
“How could I what?” Harry called through from the sitting room. “What have I done now?”
“Not you. My brother.” Suzy dialed Rory’s number, got a busy signal, and realized he was deliberately leaving the phone off the hook. “Bloody hung up on me!”
“My brother hung up on you?”
“No. My brother.” Despairingly, Suzy pushed her fingers through her hair. What a rotten, lousy day. It surely couldn’t get any worse.
“I had a call too, this afternoon,” said Harry. “From Terence DeVere.”
Suzy, reappearing in the sitting room, said, “Who?”
Harry gave her a how-could-you-have-forgotten look.
“From Hi! magazine. They want to know when they can start making the wedding arrangements.”
The day could get worse, Suzy discovered.
“He phoned you on a Sunday?”
Harry shrugged. “They need to firm up the details.”
“Go away.” Suzy groaned, covering her eyes in despair. “Leave me alone. I don’t need this right now.”
“But—”
“No, don’t. Stop pressuring me.” Her voice rose. “I’ve got a headache.”
* * *
Sleep was like public transport, Suzy deduced several hours later. It never came along when you were most desperate for it.
She was still awake—and hot and irritable to boot—when Lucille came creeping in at two o’clock in the morning.
Lucille was doing her best to be quiet, but every creaking floorboard sounded like a clap of thunder to Suzy’s en pointe ears.
“You sound like a baby elephant crashing around,” she declared crossly as Lucille attempted to creep around the sofa on the way to her room.
“Sorry, sorry. I was trying not to wake you up.”
“Well, you did.” In a big huff, Suzy rolled over onto her side, losing most of the duvet on the way.
“Here, I’ve got it. Let me tuck you in.” Lucille bent over apologetically and hauled the sliding duvet back over Suzy’s bare legs. “I didn’t mean to be so late. We were just having the most amazing session! Jaz wrote another song today. Honestly, you must hear it…”
“Oh, must I, really?” parroted Suzy, amazed by Lucille’s self-centered attitude. Had it not even occurred to her that while she was closeted away in Jaz’s recording studio, other people might not have been having the best time of their lives?
“What? What’s wrong?” Sensing that something was up, Lucille finished tucking the side of the duvet into the gap between the sofa cushions then stepped back, her forehead creased with concern.
“Wrong? Why would anything be wrong?” demanded Suzy. “I spent the day sorting through our mother’s belongings while you were closeted away with my ex-husband. I mean, it’s lucky I’m not the suspicious type, isn’t it? Otherwise, we could almost see some kind of pattern emerging here.”
Even as the words were spilling from Suzy’s mouth she was hating herself for even thinking them. But it had been that kind of day. She couldn’t not say what was uppermost in her mind.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Lucille sounded startled.
“Oh, I think you do. After all, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? You made Blanche love you more than she ever loved me, and now you’re doing the same thing all over again with Jaz.”
There were no lights on in the living room, but even in the dim amber glow of the street lamp outside the window, Suzy could see Lucille’s eyes widen in dismay.
“That’s not true!”
“Isn’t it?” Despising herself for being like this but quite unable to stop now, Suzy lifted her head from the pillow. “Well, that’s what it looks like to me.”
Lucille gasped, clutching her chest. “I can’t believe you think that. Blanche didn’t love me more than she loved you!”
Suzy’s lower lip began to tremble. She bit it, hard.
“If it hadn’t been for you, she wouldn’t have spent her whole life disappearing for weeks on end.”
She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t.
“This isn’t fair.” The multicolored beads rattled in Lucille’s hair as she shook her head.
“Why isn’t it fair? I’ve just spent the shittiest day ever, clearing out our mother’s house…and where were you? Cozily tucked up with my ex-husband, that’s where!”
“Oh, come on.” Lucille’s voice rose. “You make it sound as if we’ve spent the day in bed! It’s not like that at all and you know it!”
“Jesus, what’s going on here?” The bedroom door flew open and Harry appeared in the doorway, naked apart from a pair of black boxer shorts and leaning heavily on one crutch. “Do you two have any idea how much noise you’re making?”
“Don’t look at me,” Suzy retorted hotly. “It’s not my fault. She’s the one who’s just crept in at two o’clock in the morning because it’s taken her this long to peel herself away from Jaz.”
“We’ve been RECORDING A SONG,” bellowed Lucille.
“HA!”
“It’s OK, just ignore her.” Harry rolled his eyes sympathetically at Lucille. “She’s been in a pissy mood all night. I tried to ask her a perfectly reasonable question earlier about our wedding, and she almost ripped my head off.”
Suzy stared at them both. They were ganging up on her. It was outrageous.
“Oh well, that’s hardly the surprise of the century, is it?” she drawled. “I might have guessed you two would stick up for each other. In fact, here’s an idea.” She sat bolt upright again, unaware that with her hair sticking out all over her head she looked like an indignant parakeet. “First you took my mother, then you started spending practically every waking second with my ex-husband…so, may as well go for the hat trick, don’t you think? Please, help yourself, feel free to have sex with my fiancé…on my bed…”
In the dim recesses of her mind, Suzy was aware that she’d gotten completely carried away. For heaven’s sake, Harry hopping into bed with another woman would be the answer to all her prayers.
Except, hang on… Why should it have to be the answer to her prayers? Only some bizarre, totally misguided sense of loyalty had gotten her into this ridiculous mess in the first place. Harry had bamboozled her into going along with the engagement, hadn’t he? And she didn’t actually owe him anything, did she? Bloody hell, all she needed to do was straighten her shoulders, stick out her chest, and tell him to take a running leap.
Metaphorically speaking, of course.
I’ll say it. I’ll say it right now. I’ll—
“Fine.” Lucille interrupted her triumphant train of thought. “If that’s the way you feel, I’ll move my stuff out in the morning.”
“Fabulous,” said Suzy, stunned but at the same time damned if she was going to start backing down now.
Mother stealer.
“You don’t mean that,” Harry announced, hobbling toward her.
“I do. And I’m not going to marry you either, so you may as well call that ridiculous magazine of yours and tell them the wedding’s off.”
“See what I mean?” Harry turned to Lucille with a long suffering expression. “This is the kind of mood she’s been in all night.”
Chapter 42
Lucille had missed her vocation, Suzy discovered the ne
xt morning. She should have been in the Special Air Service.
It was six thirty, still pitch-black outside, and Lucille’s bedroom was empty. Her belongings, neatly packed and ready to go, were stacked by the door. There was no sign of Lucille, which Suzy frankly found hard to believe. Having spent most of the night tossing and turning on the sofa, too guilty to sleep, she had deliberately waited until now to say sorry because waking up Lucille at some totally unearthly hour would really be rubbing salt into the wound.
Except Lucille had already crept out, as silent as a ghost, at the crack of goodness knows when.
More silent than a ghost, in fact, because didn’t ghosts normally flap their white sheets and go WOO-HOO?
It was annoying, plucking up this much courage to apologize to an empty bedroom.
Luckily, Lucille’s dog-walking timetable was still there in the kitchen, pinned up on the corkboard.
Outside it was bucketing down with rain. Suzy, making a dash to the car twenty minutes later, reflected that this was definitely the downside to owning dogs. No matter how diabolical the weather, they still wanted to be out in it. Like small children, they just didn’t care. As far as dogs were concerned, a torrential downpour just added to the fun.
The Downs were pretty much deserted. It didn’t take long for Suzy to spot Lucille jogging along Julian Road toward her with a sopping wet Afghan hound bounding joyfully at her side.
Buzzing down the window, Suzy stuck her head out of the car and yelled, “Luce, it’s me. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I was so horrible last ni—”
Lucille, her unsmiling face illuminated by the car’s headlights and her eyes pointedly not making contact with Suzy’s, jogged straight past her.
Suzy swiveled around in her seat, her mouth dropping open.
You aren’t supposed to do that.
Wrenching open the door, she jumped out onto the pavement, but Lucille—with the dog in tow—was now sprinting toward the Downs. Suzy knew she’d never catch up to them.
Not on foot, anyway.
Oh well, in for a penny. Leaping back into the car, Suzy executed a swift three-point turn. Accelerating to the end of Julian Road, she crossed Rockleaze—no cars coming, phew—drove up onto the grass, and set off across the Downs in pursuit of Lucille.