Something Stupid

by Victoria Corby

  Quite true actually, but it still had a pretty disastrous effect on my straight thinking. I smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right, I should have told you straight away.’

  He blinked. Apologies from me were still a novel experience. I expect it took even him a bit of time to get used to them. ‘Have you got any other surprise revela­tions for me?’ he asked, though the sting had gone out of his voice.

  ‘I don’t think so, but I’ll tell you everything that happened just in case I’m accused of hiding something else.’ I gave him what was meant to be a saucily disarming smile, the type that Meg Ryan or Mira Sorvino use with such success in their films. You know, where the man melts and in the next scene is eating out of their hands. Mine must still have been coloured by a fleeting memory of that grope or whatever else you like to call it for James grinned and murmured, ‘Hang on, Laura. Don’t you think we should get the talking over first before we get on to that?’

  I started talking very fast to try and hide my embarrass­ment, and then when I realised that James might think I was doing it deliberately, slowed down to the pace of a solemn funeral oration. Actually by the time I had fin­ished he was far too absorbed in the puzzle of what it was that Cressida was firmly keeping close to her chest to bother about baiting me any further.

  He tilted back in his chair, making it creak ominously as he put his hands behind his head. ‘You say that she didn’t seem to mind about a burglary? Odd, I remember when her car was broken into and the radio stolen. She went ballistic. I can’t imagine her just accepting that her house could be broken into and the code of the safe cracked. Unless...’ He jerked with excitement and the chair, already precariously balanced, wobbled backwards. He deftly tilted it forwards with an ease that spoke of having done this many times before and grasped the table, face alight with excitement. ‘Unless there was something she hoped would have been stolen along with everything else.’

  ‘James, you’re brilliant!’ He looked as if he entirely concurred with this statement. ‘That must be it. Or something she could claim was stolen.’

  ‘Good point. More likely in fact. Did she give you any hints?’ We spent half an hour speculating what exactly Cressida’s secret could be, with ideas that grew wilder and wilder as we finished the bottle, but in the end we had to agree the only way to find out was to ask her. From my experience of Cressida it was going to be like prising information out of a clam. ‘And then,’ said James, resting his chin on his hand, ‘we’ll be able to concentrate on persuading her to go back to where she should be, in the arms of her husband. And I’ll be able to go about my business without feeling that someone’s writing every­thing, even the filling in my sandwich for lunch, down in some little black book. Though,’ he looked at me seri­ously, ‘if she really doesn’t want to go back to him, I’m not going to make her. Whatever Stefano threatens to do.’

  There was no need for him to get nobly back on his pedestal, I thought crossly. Cressida had quite enough men prepared to be her knight in shining armour without James polishing his as well. ‘What answer you get will probably depend on the direction the wind is in,’ I said sourly. ‘And, incidentally, what exactly made Serena so willing to believe that Cressy would junk her marriage to go waltzing off with an ex-boyfriend?’

  James cleared his throat. ‘Er - she appeared to believe that Cressy and I must already have resumed our affair, otherwise I’d never have broken up with Serena herself.’ He was concentrating on his glass as if trying to work out how to blow another one like it. I’m not put off that easily and am quite capable of reading between very wide lines.

  ‘What you - and she - mean,’ I said grimly, ‘is that you would never have let someone as gorgeous as Serena go for someone like me.’

  He nodded unhappily and to my annoyance didn’t even try to dispute the basic premise of the statement. Sometime later I was going to while away a few very pleasurable hours thinking of ways to get even with Serena. ‘So according to her you had a hidden agenda all the time - to get Cressida back. Is that true?’

  ‘Of course it isn’t.’

  Good. ‘And is the rest of it true?’ I asked, seizing the opportunity to ask something that had been plaguing me ever since I was propelled into this mad escapade. He glanced at me warily. ‘That, given the chance, you’d take Cressida back like a shot?’

  He looked at me owlishly as if he was having difficulty focusing, or understanding what I was saying. I knew James far too well to think he could become seriously addled on half a bottle of wine, but just in case he was thinking of trying for RADA I decided I might as well spell it out. ‘Are you still in love with her?’

  His face went completely blank for a few seconds, just long enough to make me feel that I’d blundered in to private territory, then he smiled faintly. ‘No, I’m not.’

  I could try for RADA too. I’m sure that my face didn’t show any of the blinding relief I felt, though really it wasn’t anything to do with me other than a general familial concern that James shouldn’t squander his emo­tions on a hopeless passion. I had other fish to fry. I realised guiltily that I had forgotten to ring Daniel to tell him that I’d come back two days earlier than planned. But it would be a pleasant surprise for him when I dropped around this evening before going back to Cressida. That’s good,’ I said lightly, ‘because despite everything she’s potty about Stefano. But it’s funny how everyone thinks you’re still carrying a torch for her.’ I fixed him with a pointed look.

  James sighed with a certain amount of irritation. ‘I suppose you’re going to nag me until I’m driven into telling you. Yes, I wasn’t happy when Cressy chucked me like that, especially as it was so public, but we were coming to an end anyway. She just reached it before I did.’ I waited in expectant silence, he needn’t think that a couple of pretty uninformative sen­tences was enough. ‘I was very fond of Cressy, very fond indeed,’ he said with a reminiscent look, ‘but even before she met Stefano I’d realised that we’d drive each other bonkers if we lived together. So when she dumped me I was upset and my pride was hurt, but I knew it was the best thing really. Satisfied?’

  Not really, I felt it left out a lot of detail, such as was this the stiff upper lip taken to extremes? But it was obviously all I was going to get. For the moment. The grandfather clock in the hall began to chime the hour, reminding me that I’d already left Cressida alone for a couple of hours when she wasn’t feeling well and still had another call to make. I pushed back my chair and stood up. ‘I’ve got to go, I promised Cressida I’d be back by nine.’

  ‘You can’t drive very fast if it takes you an hour to go less than two miles.’

  ‘I’ve a call to make on my way home.’

  ‘Bit early, isn’t it? Wouldn’t nearer midnight be better?’ James asked in an innocent voice.

  Honestly! He’d murder me if I kept on making cracks about his girlfriends. So why was it all right for him? I thought furiously as I strode out into the hall, snatching up my coat with a grand gesture from where I’d thrown it on the chair. A trailing arm caught a pile of letters waiting to be posted on the little side table and sent them flying to the floor. Seething with self-inflicted mortification I bent down to pick them up. At least James had managed to get the bloodstains out of his carpet I saw with relief as I straightened upright and arranged the letters back in their neat pile.

  ‘What do they say about more haste and less speed?’ murmured James as he opened the front door with a flourish. He glanced out, then his arm snaked back and caught me around my waist, drawing me to him while he took his time about giving me a goodbye kiss. I can’t say I struggled overmuch. I mean, no matter how angry I was with him I couldn’t punch him out, could I? There was probably someone watching and taking all this down. I froze for a moment at the thought, then mustered my acting abilities and relaxed. After a few more seconds I didn’t need to act any more. James kisses as if it’s the main course, not an aperitif to be got out of the way as quickly as possible before you se
ttle down to the real business of the evening. Thinking about anything else would be a bit like reading a trashy novel while eating caviar. ‘Was that a demonstration for the detective?’ I asked as he finished. I should think the car windows had steamed up if so.

  ‘No, that was just for pleasure,’ he murmured against my cheek as he let me go. ‘Good night, Laura, sleep well.’

  Fat chance! I thought as I walked down the street with an idiotic smile on my face, my mind churning. I mean, I’m given to exotic and eventful daydreams, but what on earth were they going to be like from now on with two male interests? Of course I was far too sensible to really get myself involved with James, all he was doing was having a bit of fun. Besides I had a real boyfriend, didn’t I? But, boy, were my fantasies going to be enjoyable.

  CHAPTER 15

  Chinks of light were showing through the threadbare curtains at Daniel’s window so he must be home. He never bothered to leave lamps on to deter burglars - for the good reason that there was absolutely nothing worth stealing unless some rival had designs on his creative endeavours. And even then the chances of his being able to read Daniel’s spider-like scrawl were virtually nil. I leaned over to the back seat and scooped up an immaculately wrapped and bowed box of extortionately expensive sarments de Medoc that I’d bought from an haute couture version of a chocolatier yesterday. No ready to wear or machine-made chocolates for Daniel, he ate only the very best. Once he saw these I’d certainly be forgiven for not ringing him before I came round, I thought complacently as I rang the bell.

  He took such a long time that I wondered if I was being a modern-day woman from Porlock. The last time I’d been accused of that was when I’d sneezed as he’d been about to write down a choice phrase. I was given the impression that if this book failed to win the Booker prize the blame could be laid squarely at my feet. The door was finally flung open and Daniel stood there, staring at me as if he’d never seen me before. He was as heartrendingly good-looking as ever, dark hair tousled, shabby sweat shirt pushed up to his elbows and long feet bare, though unusually enough he’d remem­bered to shave in the last couple of days for his chin was quite bare of the normal, and very scratchy, stubble. ‘Laura, what a surprise,’ he said finally, as he leaned forward to give me a kiss. ‘I thought you weren’t coming back for another couple of days.’

  ‘Change of plan,’ I said shortly. I was well aware that I was more demonstrative than Daniel, but even by his standards this greeting was unenthusiastic. ‘Did I disturb you in the middle of writing?’

  He stared at me and said vaguely, ‘No, you didn’t.’

  ‘Good,’ I said and held up the box. ‘I’ve brought you a present.’

  It got the welcome I hadn’t. His eyes brightened and he put out his hand with a murmured, ‘Thanks, it’s really kind of you.’ It’s incredible how someone that thin and ethereal can be so greedy about sweet things.

  I moved the box out of his reach just in case he had any ideas about taking it and then shutting the door and said firmly, ‘I won’t stay for long, I’ve got a friend staying with me who isn’t very well so I’ve got to get back to her.’

  With a faint sigh he stood aside and let me in. ‘Is the friend that Cressida whatsit?’ he asked as he followed me up the passage to his paper-strewn sitting room. Actually it was tidier than usual; the special lined notebooks he used for his writing had been gathered off their usual places on the floor and stacked in a fairly neat pile and the wastepaper basket must have been emptied in the last few days since the crumpled pages within hadn’t yet over­flowed on to the carpet.

  ‘Yes, but how do you know about her?’

  ‘A friend of hers came around to see me. Said that you were with her and thought I might be able to help her trace you both.’

  I wheeled around. ‘What friend of hers?’ I asked in alarm, my mind already racing to the most ridiculous and melodramatic conclusions about what Stefano could possibly be up to now.

  He coughed and harrumphed. ‘She was called ... Sally. No, not that. Serena,’ he said with the innocent air of someone producing a rabbit out of a hat. I didn’t believe it for one moment. In my experience no man, not even Daniel, forgot Serena’s name. Had she come on to him? I thought, eyes narrowing. I wouldn’t put it past her. In fact, I’d be almost prepared to bet on it. It would have seemed like poetic justice to her to steal my boyfriend. Was that why he’d shaved? He was certainly shuffling his feet in a self-conscious fashion that was quite unlike his normal behaviour, though that could be because I was staring at him in the manner of a mongoose looking at an errant snake.

  ‘And just how did Serena know that I knew you?’ I asked in a clipped voice.

  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know precisely. I think she said that your stepbrother had mentioned it.’

  ‘Oh, had he?’ I muttered grimly. That explained the slightly wary look on James’s face when I’d said I was going around to see Daniel unannounced. He must have known that all he had to do was drop Daniel’s name in Serena’s shell-like and she’d do the rest. The Machiavellian bastard. He needn’t expect any help from me in future. In fact I was in half a mind to leave him and his ex-girlfriend right where they were, in a stew of their own making.

  Daniel picked up one of his ‘How to Write’ books off the table, saying with patently assumed casualness as he closed it, ‘If Cressida whatsit is ill hadn’t you better get back to her?’

  I smiled sweetly at him. ‘She’ll be all right for a bit.’ I sat down on the sofa to his obvious dismay. I didn’t have to sweep any crumbs off it either which was unusual. Was he expecting Serena to come around this evening? ‘What did she say?’

  ‘Nothing much, just if I knew where you were,’ he said, looking hunted. ‘She also said something about you having an affair with your stepbrother, but I didn’t believe that, of course.’

  ‘Why not?’ I asked, a bit offended by the tone of his voice.

  ‘Come on, Laura, you’re hardly his type, are you? I only met him the once but he’s obviously the sort of bloke who likes blondes in sports cars and you’re more of a home-loving bird; cooking, cleaning and all of that.’ It did wonders for my self-esteem to be described as an up-to-date Mrs Mop. ‘That’s not to say you aren’t very attractive, warm and cuddly.’ So make that Mrs Mop with a dash of teddy bear thrown in. ‘And anyway I know you aren’t interested in shallow men like him.’

  I quashed an unworthy impulse to put him right on that score. ‘Did Serena stay for long?’ I asked idly, more as a way of preventing myself from asking the other questions that were threatening to trip off my tongue, such as didn’t the suggestion that I might be having an affair with someone else worry him at all, than because I was actually interested.

  ‘Er, no, of course not,’ he said quickly. ‘Only a few minutes in fact.’

  He looked so transparently guilty that I couldn’t resist teasing him. ‘You mean, she didn’t make a pass at you?’ His eyes widened. ‘Well, no, she couldn’t, could she? Um, why should she?’ he added hastily. ‘I mean, she didn’t seem the sort of girl who would make a pass at anything in trousers—’

  So much for Daniel’s brilliant character observation. ‘Why couldn’t she?’ I asked, standing up. He was so absorbed in the fascination of his own psyche that he was a terribly bad actor; he hadn’t spent long enough assessing other people’s reactions to him ever to have learned to be convincing. He was hiding something about last night and, I was prepared to bet, hiding something right now. That fake bout of coughing hadn’t been a time-gaining exercise while he thought of a plausible story, it had been to cover a noise within the flat.

  ‘Last time I was here I left one of my favourite hair slides on your chest of drawers,’ I said over my shoulder as I crossed the room, ‘I’ll just go and get it.’

  His mumbled protest came too late to stop me flinging open the door and exclaiming, ‘Well!’ in a suitably out­raged voice. The blonde agent whom I’d last seen at Charlotte’s party was sta
nding by the bed in a pair of leggings and an inside out jumper, looking distinctly apprehensive. I had been right about the size of her bottom, the leggings were a definite mistake.

  ‘I can explain,’ said Daniel.

  ‘I’m sure you can.’ So this was why he wasn’t worried about the possibility of my playing around else­where. ‘Like it’s not what I think and this is all perfectly innocent.’ I kept an eagle eye on the blonde and she flinched backwards slightly as if I’d just threatened to come in and flatten her with a right hook. ‘She’s promised to find you a really sympathetic publisher who understands the needs of a rising young writer like yourself,’ from the blonde’s expression I wasn’t that wide of the mark, ‘and of course such a meeting of sympathies and interests means that passion inevitably rises and you just couldn’t help yourselves.’

  The corners of the blonde’s mouth twitched. I had a feeling it was actually the two of us who had something in common; we’d both seen the most beautiful man we’d ever dreamed of, let alone actually set eyes on, outside a cheap romance and had gone all out to get him. Daniel, as I had good reason to know, was a pushover for a determined woman. Well, at least Serena didn’t get him, I thought with a giggle.

  I smiled at the blonde. ‘Good luck. I hope you’ve brought your Marigold gloves with you, you’re going to need them.’ I gathered from her grimace she was already aware of that.

  I pushed my way past Daniel who was still gaping at me like a landed fish and picked up the box of chocolates from the sofa. He made a sort of inarticulate protesting noise. Had he expected me to leave them so he could share them with his new girlfriend? ‘Horatio likes chocolate too, I think you’re more of a Milk Tray man these days, don’t you?’ And feeling extremely pleased with myself for being able to dream up any sort of parting quip I swept out, my exit only slightly spoiled by the lock on his front door sticking and my swearing efforts to get it to undo.