by Jill Mansell
“Visitors, Harry. Your brother’s here to see you… Can I get you another cup of tea or is that one still warm? And how about a nice chocolate cookie to go with it?”
Suzy couldn’t help marveling at the service Harry was getting. As far as she could make out, all the other patients on the ward had to wait for the rickety cart to be trundled around three times a day, with a teapot the size of a beer barrel dispensing stewed brown liquid into bile-green NHS cups.
Not like Harry, whose tea was freshly made for him every twenty minutes by the besotted receptionist and brought to him in a smart navy-and-gold Marks & Spencer mug.
“You spoil me, Doreen,” he told her with a smile.
Doreen, simpering madly back at him, said, “If you don’t deserve a bit of spoiling, love, I don’t know who does.”
Chapter 22
The side ward was already awash with get-well cards stuck all over the walls, but when Leo strode in, his gaze flickered almost instantly to the one card Suzy would have preferred him not to see.
Oh, what a surprise.
She felt her nails digging into the palms of her hands as he scanned the dreadful poem inside.
“Suzy’s birthday card,” Harry said proudly. Just in case Leo had forgotten how to read.
“So I see.” Leo’s eyebrows were raised. His mouth twitched with derision. “Very…touching.”
“We’re getting married,” Harry announced. With even more pride, if that was possible.
“Evidently.” Leo gestured toward the untidy pile of newspapers on the windowsill. He paused, then said, “Congratulations.”
Suzy felt her toes curl up inside her shoes, but she forced herself to smile jauntily at Leo. “Thanks.”
“I hope you’ll both be very happy,” said Leo, who clearly didn’t.
“Oh, we will be.” As she said it, Suzy heard a voice she recognized, out in the corridor.
“I’d have asked you to be my best man at the wedding,” Harry told Leo, “but the guy from Hi!…well, he’s pretty keen on the idea of Jaz doing the honors. He says sorry, he knows you’re successful, but you’re just not as famous as Jaz.”
Harry was clearly enjoying himself; this was his moment of glory. But inwardly, Suzy cringed. Harry had met Jaz once, for all of thirty minutes, and now he was going to ask him to be his best man.
Her own ex-husband, for pity’s sake!
“I completely understand.” Leo sounded amused. “I’m a nobody. Suzy’s ex is a recovering alcoholic rock star. You’d be mad not to choose him as your best man.”
The door swung open, and Gabriella burst in.
“Can you believe it? Harry Fitzallan, you’re looking handsomer than ever! That has to be the most dashing scar I’ve ever seen”—she indicated the curved gash along Harry’s cheekbone—“and every woman in the country is fantasizing madly about being rescued by you!”
Suzy was tempted to hold up her hand and say, “Actually, every woman in the country but me.”
Gabriella’s was one of the voices she had heard outside in the corridor a moment ago. The other had belonged to Dr. Hubble.
“And you’re the one who’s got him,” Gabriella told Suzy with a grin. “That must feel sooo great. I’m so happy for you, really I am…it’s just the best news ever!”
She meant it, Suzy realized, as Gabriella first gave her a hug, then Harry. There was none of the cynicism in her voice that there had been in Leo’s.
Curiously, she said, “Do you know Dr. Hubble?”
“Monique? Oh yes, we went to med school together! We shared boyfriends.” Gabriella laughed. “We even shared a cadaver once in anatomy class. Me and Monique go way back!”
Suzy could just picture it. Two teeny tiny girls, both spectacularly pretty and medical students to boot. It was enough to give a noisy, 130-pound real estate agent a complex…
Except nobody gives me a complex, Suzy reminded herself, because I’m not the complex-suffering type.
For a start, she had real curves, which was more than either of these two sparrows possessed.
And I’ve got four exams.
Furthermore, like it or not, she had Harry.
“Oh, by the way, about your mother’s house,” said Gabriella. “I mean, it’s gorgeous and we love it, but we do have a few more lined up to see before we decide.” She touched Suzy’s sleeve. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” lied Suzy, minding enormously. Having been so convinced that they’d both loved her old home, she now couldn’t help feeling…well, a bit snubbed.
It was like hearing a childless couple coo admiringly over your baby, but when you actually offered it to them for adoption, they backed off hurriedly, saying, “Oh no, we wanted one prettier than that.”
“You never know,” Harry said cheerfully, “the way things are going, I might end up buying the place myself.”
This was another lie, of course. Harry was only showing off, indulging in a bit of one-upmanship with Leo. But Suzy was grateful anyway. It was nice to have Harry on her side, sensing her hurt and leaping to her defense.
Metaphorically speaking, of course. It would be a while before Harry was going to be capable of leaping anywhere.
“Here we are, Harry.” The receptionist was back, easing her way past Gabriella and Leo. “A lovely cup of tea,” she cooed, “made just the way you like it. And a couple of plain chocolate cookies.” In a stage whisper she added with pride, “They’re Millie’s.”
Behind her, Gabriella rolled her eyes expressively at Suzy and mouthed, Ooh, Millie’s.
Which almost made up for her earlier slur on Suzy’s mother’s house.
“I have to go.” Checking her phone, Suzy saw that the messages were starting to stack up.
“OK.” Harry held his good arm out to her. “You said Jaz and Celeste were due back today, didn’t you? If Jaz wants to come visit me,” he said casually, “that’s fine.”
Big of you, Harry.
Suzy had to lean across the bed to kiss Harry good-bye. It couldn’t just be a peck either. She felt compelled to throw herself into it with just-got-engaged-to-a-superhero abandon.
She hoped Gabriella and Leo, behind her, weren’t getting a grandstand view of her fuchsia-pink panties.
“Love you,” whispered Harry, gently stroking her overheated cheek.
“Love you too,” Suzy forced herself to murmur back.
Oh, but why, why am I having to force myself to say it? Why can’t I just love you anyway? It would make life soooo much easier.
“See you again very soon,” Gabriella said warmly when Suzy turned to leave. “Imagine, we’ll be sisters-in-law! Won’t that be great?”
Suzy didn’t need to look at him to know that Leo’s expression was derogatory. Even his aftershave smelled cynical. He thought she was the one who was milking Harry’s hero status for all it was worth.
Leo despised her, Suzy realized. And since he clearly wasn’t going to buy Sheldrake House, she didn’t see why she should carry on being polite to him for a moment longer.
To Gabriella she said, “I can’t wait to be your sister-in-law, but I’m not looking forward to being Leo’s.”
* * *
Lucille was jogging across the Suspension Bridge, exercising a pair of Highland terriers in rhinestone collars, when she recognized the jogger heading toward her from the other end of the bridge.
Jaz Dreyfuss was wearing sunglasses and a black tracksuit. Lucille whistled encouragement to the hopelessly unfit terriers and ignored him as they approached each other. She knew Jaz because everyone knew Jaz, but he didn’t have a clue who she was.
But as their paths crossed, almost exactly at the halfway point, Jaz murmured, “Hi, Lucille.”
To the dogs’ collective relief, Lucille stopped running. “Very good. How do you do that?” She rested her hand
s on her hips and smiled. “Or did someone tattoo my name across my forehead while I was asleep?”
Jaz took off his sunglasses and leaned back against one of the stone pillars. Just back from Antigua, he was very tan.
“Beautiful girl, head full of beads, professional dog walker…call me psychic, but I just thought there couldn’t be too many of you in Clifton.”
“Who says I’m a professional dog walker?” countered Lucille. “These could be mine.”
She and Jaz simultaneously gazed down at the two panting, overweight terriers, their rhinestone collars twinkling in the sunlight.
Jaz, eyebrows raised, looked at Lucille.
“Oh well.” Lucille conceded defeat. “Maybe not.”
“So how’s it going then?” said Jaz. “What’s it like, living with my ex-wife?”
Lucille said mischievously, “Can’t you remember?”
“The state I was in?” His expression was rueful. “Not really. All a bit of a blur, to be honest. Although I seem to remember being shouted at a lot.”
“Suzy doesn’t shout at me. We’re getting on really well.” Lucille paused. “You know she’s getting married?”
Jaz looked astounded.
“You’re joking! Who to?”
“Harry.”
“Bloody hell! You can’t take your eyes off that girl for five minutes… When did this happen?”
If he hadn’t already heard, Lucille wondered if she should be telling him. Suzy might have wanted to break the news herself. Feeling awkward, she fiddled with the dogs’ leashes.
“Haven’t you seen the papers?”
“We’ve been on vacation.” Jaz shook his head. “I never look at the papers when I’m away. We got home an hour ago, Maeve was out, I felt like a run… Bloody hell!” he exclaimed again. “What brought all this on? Don’t tell me she’s pregnant.”
Lucille’s white running tank was sticking damply to her midriff. Embarrassed, she loosened it and glanced at her watch.
“I’ve got to get these dogs home. If I’m late, their owner’ll send out a search party. No,” she added hurriedly, “she isn’t pregnant.”
“But that’s as much information as you’re willing to pass on right now,” guessed Jaz. He winked at her. “Because you don’t want this to be the day Suzy starts shouting at you.”
Relieved that he wasn’t about to start interrogating her, Lucille said, “She’ll be home by six.”
“Tell you what. Why don’t both of you come around to dinner.” Jaz checked his watch. “Say, sevenish? Unless you have other plans.”
Lucille, who hadn’t, said, “OK.”
“Great. We can get to know each other.” With a fleeting grin, Jaz replaced his sunglasses. “And I can hear exactly what Suzy’s been up to the moment my back’s turned.”
* * *
After an hour-long bath, Celeste wrapped herself in a stunning new turquoise silk robe and sat down in front of her dressing-table mirror to do her face. Rummaging through the drawers in which she kept her makeup, searching for the Max Factor iced-pink lipstick that would go so brilliantly with her Antiguan tan, she came across the cassette she had liberated from Lucille’s bag a couple of weeks earlier and promptly forgotten about.
Only mildly curious, Celeste now dropped Lucille’s tape into the cassette player she kept handy in order to be able to listen to music while she put her makeup on.
“Bloody hell,” she exclaimed aloud, when she heard what was on the tape.
Jaz walked in moments later.
“What is that?” He listened in disbelief to the noise emanating from the cassette player.
“Something embarrassing.” Celeste giggled. “Isn’t it awful?”
“Don’t tell me you bought it!”
“Of course not.”
“So where did it come from?”
Still smiling, Celeste switched the tape off. “I just…found it.” Happily, vagueness was her stock-in-trade. “What’s the matter with you, anyway? You look as if you’ve just bumped into Elvis.”
Too distracted to give the terrible tape another thought, Jaz said abruptly, “Suzy’s getting married.”
“Surely not.” Having unearthed the ice-pink lipstick, Celeste carefully applied it to her pouting mouth. “Who’d want to marry Suzy?”
Jaz had once, of course, but he’d been paralytic at the time. It wasn’t his fault.
“That bloke. Harry What’s-’Is-Name.”
“Must be mad.”
“She must be mad,” Jaz said hotly.
“Why should you care?” Celeste blotted her lips with a tissue. “Not jealous, are you?”
“Of course I’m not jealous,” Jaz snapped.
“Good.” Celeste spoke lightly, but her stomach had twisted itself into a tight knot. Everyone else thought it was so great that Jaz and Suzy could be divorced and still get on well together.
Celeste wondered if they’d feel quite the same way about the situation if it were their partner still flirting with his flashy, extrovert, up-for-anything ex-wife.
“They’re coming over tonight,” said Jaz.
“Who, the happy couple?”
“Suzy and Lucille.” Jaz belatedly realized that it hadn’t occurred to him to invite Harry along. And Lucille hadn’t mentioned it either.
“Oh.” Celeste glanced at the silent cassette player, her ice-pink mouth twitching with private pleasure. “Right. That’ll be nice.”
Chapter 23
Maeve, arriving home from a productive tour of Clifton’s thrift shops an hour later, filled them in on all the details. She had kept every edition of every newspaper to show Jaz and Celeste what they had missed while they’d been away.
“It’s like a fairy tale, wouldn’t you say?” She jabbed happily at the front page of the Express. “Isn’t that just the most gorgeous photo you ever saw? Did you ever see a couple so happy?”
You mean like Bill and Hillary Clinton, Jaz wanted to say. That happy?
It was only a photograph. It didn’t mean anything. The camera lied. Jaz knew that better than anyone. After all, how many times had he been caught by the paparazzi looking perfectly sober when in reality he’d been out of his tree?
“And here’s Harry with the two children he saved. And there he is with the bandages off his head… See, that’s better, isn’t it? Will you look at those lovely glossy dark curls? He’s up for all manner of bravery awards,” Maeve told them with enormous pride.
“Sure you wouldn’t like to marry him yourself, Maeve?” said Jaz.
“What, and have Suzy chasing after me with a frying pan in one hand and a steak knife in the other? She’s in love, bless her. You can see it in her eyes.” Pointing to yet another photograph, in the Daily Mail this time, Maeve dragged an Oxfam bag onto her lap and happily pulled out a man’s vest. “I bought this for Harry. Isn’t it a find? Thought he might like to wear it for the wedding.”
The vest was emerald-green satin, with maroon Lurex stripes. Even Elton John might have winced a bit at the sight of this one.
Yesss, there is a God, thought Jaz.
“I’m sure he will,” he told Maeve. “It’s…perfect.”
Celeste was poring over one of the pictures taken at the first press conference.
“What on earth was Suzy thinking of here?” In amazement she pointed to the yellow-and-purple zigzag scarf. “I knew she had diabolical taste in clothes, but this is ridiculous.”
* * *
The corner Suzy had found herself painted into was getting smaller by the hour. Having fully intended to be totally honest with Jaz, she rapidly encountered a couple of problems.
First, Lucille was sitting there listening to every word.
Second, Suzy’s hackles had risen the moment she’d seen the look on Jaz’s face when he’d opened the front door.
>
It was the kind of look a father might give his daughter when she tells him she’s chucking her job in high finance and running away to join the ecowarriors.
It was definitely the kind of look that made Suzy want to kick him.
Smirking, he said, “Oh, Suzy, you cannot be serious,” like John McEnroe. “Pleeease tell me this is all a windup.”
If Jaz had been nice about it, Suzy realized later, and Lucille hadn’t been there, she would have told him exactly that. The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Instead, thanks to his patronizing attitude—and her own pride—she found herself saying breezily, “Oh, I know. I’m totally messing up my life. I’d so set my heart on marrying yet another clapped-out alcoholic rock singer and instead, I end up with some really good-looking superhero. Oh dear, oh dear, major calamity. Where did I go wrong?”
“Beautiful house,” said Lucille, ignoring Suzy’s tirade and gazing around the massive marble hallway. She peered up at the modern, stained glass chandelier at the head of the staircase.
“She’s getting the hang of you,” Jaz told Suzy with a grin. “At the first sign of an argument, change the subject.” To Lucille he said, “Good move. Come on through. Did you manage to get those flabby dogs home in one piece?”
“Their owner had bowls of chopped-up hamburgers waiting for them.” Lucille shrugged. “What can you do? I’m just the dog walker. When I tried telling her she shouldn’t feed them so much, she told me I was heartless and mean.”
Celeste, drifting out to meet them, said, “And all you’re doing is trying to help. I know how you feel—Suzy’s exactly the same when I suggest she should go on a diet.” She paused for effect and smiled at Lucille. “Hello again. And you have to live with her. I bet you wish now you’d gone to the Salvation Army hostel, like I said.”
“Maeve!” shouted Suzy, heading for the kitchen from which sublime cooking smells were drifting. “Pour me a massive drink!”
Over dinner, and with Maeve’s encouragement, Suzy grew into her role of besotted bride-to-be. She was damned if she was going to let Jaz jeer at her.
