“Anyway, you can’t follow us anymore,” says Tarkie, after a painful pause. “The three of us have split up. There’s nothing to follow.”
“You’ve split up?” I stare at the phone. “What do you mean?”
“We’ve all gone our separate ways. I’m helping your dad out with…” He hesitates. “Something. He’s doing his own thing. Bryce has disappeared, God knows where.”
“Bryce has disappeared?” I say in shock.
“Left last night. No idea where.”
“Oh, right.”
I feel totally wrong-footed. After all that. Bryce hasn’t ensnared Tarquin in his evil plan at all. He hasn’t brainwashed him or fleeced him or even made him start selling time-shares. He’s just buggered off.
“Becky, go back to L.A.,” says Tarquin, as though reading my mind. “Call off the search. Give it up.”
“But we might be able to help you,” I persist. “What are you doing? What’s going on?”
Let us in! I feel like shouting. Please!
“We don’t need your help,” says Tarquin adamantly. “Tell Suze I’m OK. I’m helping your dad. I’m feeling useful for the first time in…forever. I’m going to do this, OK? And I don’t need any interference from you or Suze. Bye, Becky.”
And with that, he rings off. I’ve never felt so powerless in my life. I want to cry with frustration, or at least savagely kick a barrel.
OK, it turns out savagely kicking a barrel didn’t make me feel any better. (I’m wearing flip-flops, and barrels are really hard.) Nor did pounding a fist into my palm like they do in the movies. (I’ve never understood the appeal of boxing, and now I understand it even less. My hand hurts just from me punching it. Imagine if it was someone else and you couldn’t tell them to stop.)
The only thing that will make me feel better, I realize, is talking to Suze. I need to tell her about Tarkie’s calls. I have to tell her that he’s safe and away from Bryce. This is a matter of urgency, and I must be brave and not shy away from the task.
But as I creep out of the preserves tent, I feel a swoop of nerves. Suze looks about as approachable as a lioness who’s guarding her cubs, the family food, and the crown jewels, all at once. She’s prowling around the clearing, her phone grasped in her right hand, her brows lowered, and her eyes flitting from side to side.
I’ve started to rehearse possible casual conversational openers in my mind—Gosh, Suze, fancy bumping into you here—when she stops dead. She’s standing still, watching alertly. Waiting for something. What?
A moment later I can see what she can see coming toward her, and I gasp so strongly, I nearly black out. No. I must be hallucinating. I can’t be seeing what I’m seeing. But the tall, loping figure is unmistakable.
It’s Bryce.
Bryce. Himself. Here. At the Wilderness County Fair.
My jaw sags as I watch him approach Suze. He’s as good-looking and burnished as ever, wearing cutoffs and flip-flops. He looks easy and relaxed, whereas Suze looks absolutely desperate. But she doesn’t look surprised to see him. Clearly this was all prearranged. But…what?
I mean, what?
How can Suze be meeting Bryce? How?
We’ve been chasing Bryce. We’ve been worrying about what Bryce was up to. We’ve been talking about Bryce, trying to get inside his mind, practically believing he was a serial killer. Was Suze in touch with him all along?
Inside, I’m whimpering with confusion. I want to cry out, Whaaaaat? Explain! I want to barge up and say, You can’t do this!
But all I can do is watch mutely as they have some kind of conversation I can’t hear. Suze’s arms are crossed protectively across her body and she’s talking in short, jabbing sentences, whereas Bryce looks as calm and laid-back as he always did. I half-expect to see him produce a volleyball and start bouncing it around.
At last they seem to come to some conclusion. Bryce gives a single nod, then puts a hand on Suze’s arm. She shakes it off with such ferocity that even I jump, and Bryce gives a shrug. He seems quite amused. Then he lopes away, through the crowd, and Suze is left alone.
She slumps down on a nearby decorative hay bale, her head bowed, looking so despairing that a couple of passersby give her mildly concerned looks. She’s in such a trance that I almost don’t dare disturb her. Something tells me she’s going to lash out at me even more viciously when she realizes I saw her with Bryce.
But I have to. This isn’t just about our friendship anymore. This is about everything.
I step forward resolutely, one foot in front of the other, and wait till she looks up. Her head jerks, and for a moment she looks like a cornered animal. Every muscle in her body is tense. Her eyes dart about frantically, as though to check whether anyone else is with me—then, as she accepts I’m alone, they gradually settle back on me.
“Suze…” I begin, but my voice comes out all husky and I don’t quite know where I’m going.
“Did you…” She swallows, as though she can’t bring herself to say it, and I nod.
“Suze—”
“Don’t.” She cuts me off, her voice trembling. Her eyes are bloodshot. She looks ill, I think suddenly. Ill with worry. And it’s not because she thinks Tarkie’s unsafe. It’s something else, something she’s been keeping from all of us.
For what seems like an age, we just look at each other, and it’s almost as if we’re having a silent conversation.
I wish you’d talked to me.
I do too.
Things have got pretty bad, haven’t they?
Yes.
So let’s sort it out.
I can see Suze’s defenses lowering, little by little. Her shoulders slowly drop. Her jaw relaxes. She meets my eye properly for the first time in ages, and I feel a horrible pang at how desperate she looks.
But there’s something else going on here. There’s a kind of shift in the balance between us. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been the one to get in scrapes and Suze has been the one to help me out of them. It’s just the way we are. Now, though, things feel reversed. I don’t know exactly what’s been going on—but I do know something: Suze is in a big old mess.
I have a zillion questions I want to fire at her, but I think she needs to calm down a bit first.
“C’mon,” I say. “I don’t care what time in the morning it is, we need a titchy.”
I lead her into the tequila-tasting tent, and she meekly follows, her face downcast. I order tequila shots and hand her one. Then I face her full-on, with a businesslike look, and say, “OK, Suze. You need to tell me everything. What’s up with you and Bryce?”
And of course, as soon as I see her face, I know.
I mean, I pretty much knew as soon as I saw him appear. But it’s seeing her face which drives a kind of dagger blow into my heart. “Suze, you didn’t.”
“No!” she says, as though I’ve scalded her. “Not completely…”
“What’s not completely?”
“I…we…” She looks around the bar. “Shall we find a better place to sit?”
“Suze. Just tell me.” There’s a lump in my throat. “Have you been unfaithful to Tarkie?”
I’m having a flashback to their wedding. Suze looked so radiant and beautiful. She and Tarkie were so hopeful and optimistic. We were all so hopeful and optimistic.
And, OK, Tarkie may be a bit weird at times. He may have odd taste in clothes. And music. And everything. But there’s no way he’d ever be unfaithful to Suze, no way. The thought of how hurt he’d be if he found out is bringing tears to my eyes.
“I…” Her hands flutter round her throat. “What counts as unfaithful? Kissing?”
“You only kissed?”
“Not exactly.”
“Did you—”
“No!” She hesitates. “Not exactly.”
There’s a pause, while my imagination gallops round several assorted scenarios.
“Did you feel unfaithful?”
There’s another long pause. And suddenly there
are tears in Suze’s eyes too.
“Yes,” she says, with a wretched defiance. “Yes. I wanted to be. I’d had enough. Tarkie was so miserable, and everything was so difficult in England, and Bryce was all fresh and positive and…you know…”
“Sex-god-like.”
I can remember Suze and Bryce meeting for the first time and thinking that there was a spark between them. But never in a million years did I think…
It just goes to show: I’m not suspicious enough. That’s it. I’m never trusting anything again. I expect everyone’s having affairs with everyone else and I just haven’t noticed.
“Exactly,” Suze is saying. “He was so different. So confident about everything.”
“So when did you…” My mind is spooling back, trying to work it out. “I mean, you didn’t go to Golden Peace that much….Was it in the evenings?”
“Don’t ask me when!” Suze cries out in anguish. “Don’t ask me for dates and times and places! It was a mistake, OK! I realize that now. But it’s too late. He’s got me.”
“What do you mean, he’s got you?”
“He wants money,” says Suze flatly. “Lots of it.”
“You’re not giving it to him, are you?” I stare at her.
“What else can I do?”
“Suze! You mustn’t!” I feel almost faint with horror. “You mustn’t give him anything!”
“But he’ll tell Tarkie!” Tears start pouring down Suze’s face. “And my marriage will be over….The children…” She stares into her tequila glass. “Bex, I’ve screwed up my whole life and I don’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell anyone. I’ve been so lonely.”
I feel a tweak of hurt. Well, possibly indignation. Well, possibly anger.
“You could have told me,” I say, trying to sound calm, as opposed to hurt and indignant and angry. “You could always have confided in me, Suze.”
“No, I couldn’t! You and Luke have this perfect relationship. You would never have understood.”
What? How can she say that?
“We nearly split up in L.A.!” I retort in disbelief. “We had a terrible row and Luke went home to England and I didn’t know if he’d even come back. So I think I might have understood. If you’d given me a chance.”
“Oh.” Suze wipes her eyes. “Well…Oh. I didn’t know things were so bad.”
“I tried to tell you, but you weren’t interested! You shut me out!”
“Well, you shut me out!”
We’re gazing at each other, breathing hard, both with flushed cheeks and tequila glasses clutched in our hands. I feel as if finally I’m peeling away the layers and saying to Suze what I really want to say.
“OK, Suze, maybe I did shut you out.” My words erupt. “Maybe I did get it wrong in L.A. But you know what? I’ve said sorry a zillion times, I’ve come with you on this trip, I’m doing my best—and you haven’t even looked at me. You won’t talk to me, you won’t meet my eye, all you do is criticize me. All you care about is Alicia. But I’m supposed to be your friend.” A mountain of old hurt is rising through me, and my eyes are suddenly hot with tears. “I’m supposed to be your friend, Suze.”
“I know,” she whispers, staring into her glass. “I know you are.”
“So why are you treating me like this?” I wipe roughly at my face. “And I’m not making it up. Luke’s noticed it too.”
“Oh God.” Suze looks more anguished than ever. “I know. I’ve been so horrible. But I couldn’t even look at you.”
“Why not?” I feel so agitated, I’m practically shouting. “Why not?”
“Because I knew you’d guess everything!” she bursts out. “You know me, Bex. Alicia doesn’t. I can get away with pretending when I’m with Alicia.” As she raises her head, she’s properly crying. I mean, her face is blotchy red and her nose is running and everything. “I can’t keep anything from you.”
“You kept Bryce from me,” I point out.
“By avoiding you. Oh God, Bex.” Suze clutches her hair. “I’ve been in such a state for so long….I wish I’d told you from the start….”
I’ve never seen Suze look so piteous. She seems kind of smaller, and all her Suze-ebullience has gone. Her face is drawn and her hair is all greasy underneath the extensions.
“What if my marriage ends, Bex?” she gulps, and I feel an answering thud of dread in my chest.
“It won’t. Suze, it’ll be OK.” I fling my arms round her. “Don’t cry. We’ll work it out.”
“I’ve been so stupid,” Suze sobs. “Soooooo stupid. Haven’t I?”
But I don’t say anything in return. I just hug her tighter.
I’ve been stupid before. I’ve had things catch up with me before. And Suze has never been mean or told me off. She’s always been supportive. So that’s what I’ll be too.
As we sit there, letting the Mexican music wash over us, I’m thinking back to when things first started going wrong between Suze and me. I thought it was all my fault. I thought it was because of me and my preoccupations. It never occurred to me that she might have a preoccupation of her own.
“Oh my God.” I look up as it hits me. “That’s why you’ve been so desperate to get Tarkie away from Bryce. In case Bryce tells him.”
“That was part of it,” Suze admits.
“Wait.” I give a tiny gasp. “Did you invent the whole brainwashing thing?”
“No! I was genuinely worried about Tarkie!” says Suze defensively. “He’s really vulnerable. And Bryce is an evil, manipulative—” She stops herself and takes a deep breath. “He’s after money wherever he can get it. At first he thought Tarkie had all the money, so he went after him. Then he worked out I have my own money too, so he…Well.” She swallows. “He moved on to me.”
“You can’t give him any. You do know that.” Suze doesn’t react, and I eye her sternly. “You do know that, don’t you, Suze? What have you said to him?”
“I’ve said I’ll meet him at seven P.M. and give him some money,” mumbles Suze.
“Suze!”
“Well, what else can I do?”
“If you pay him once, he’ll have you in his power forever. Never give in to a blackmailer. Everyone knows that.”
“But what if he tells Tarkie?” Suze puts down her empty shot glass and thrusts her hands through her hair again. “Bex, what if I’ve really fucked up? What if Tarkie and I split up? What about the children?” Her voice is trembling. “I’ve jeopardized my whole life, everything….”
A guy from the Mexican band comes up and shakes his maracas at Suze with a beaming smile on his face. He offers her one to shake too, but he’s picked the wrong girl.
“Leave me alone!” yells Suze, and the maracas man backs away, startled.
For a while we both sit there in silence. My head is spinning a bit, and it’s not just from the tequila. I still have a zillion questions for Suze, like, Who made the first move? and What do you mean, “not exactly”? But I can’t start quizzing her now. The important thing is to get rid of Bryce.
“Suze, Tarkie won’t leave you,” I say abruptly.
“Why wouldn’t he? I’d leave me.” She looks up with miserable eyes. “I can be a real nightmare. I lose my temper with him and I say all kinds of frightful things….”
“I know,” I say awkwardly. “He told me. Look, Suze, you should know something. I’ve been in contact with Tarkie without telling you.”
Her eyes spark in shock and she draws a long breath. For an awful moment I think she’s going to shout at me. But then she exhales and the rage sort of subsides.
“Right,” she says at last. “I might have known. And he said, My wife’s a bitch.”
“No! Of course he didn’t!” I try to think of how to put it tactfully. “He said…um…you’d had difficulties.”
“Difficulties!” She gives a short, bitter laugh.
“No, but listen, Suze,” I continue eagerly. “It’s all good. Tarquin’s far stronger than you think. He’s separated from my dad now, h
e’s doing his own thing to help, and he sounds really positive. I don’t reckon Bryce brainwashed him at all. I think the reason he was so bad-tempered in L.A. was…other things.”
“Me.”
“Not just you. The whole situation. But now he’s got away…he feels useful…I think he’s in a better place.”
Suze is silent for a moment, mulling this over.
“Tarkie adores your dad,” she says at last. “Your dad is the father he would have loved to have had.”
“I know.”
“Did he say what they’re doing?”
“Of course not.” I roll my eyes. “He told me to give my dad some privacy and go back to L.A.”
“Maybe he’s got a point.” Suze draws her feet up onto her barstool and wraps her arms round her knees. “I mean, what are we doing? What are we all doing?”
I think this is one of those questions that you don’t actually reply to. So, instead of saying, We’re tracking Tarkie because you told us to, Suze, I just sip my tequila.
“I feel like I’ve been in this horrible crazy place,” Suze says suddenly. “And I took it out on you, Bex.”
“No, you didn’t.” I shrug, feeling embarrassed.
“I did.” She gazes at me with huge, miserable eyes. “I’ve been hateful. I can’t believe you’re still talking to me.”
“Well…” I hesitate, trying to find the words. “You’re my friend. And I was pretty hateful in L.A. We’ve both been hateful.”
“I was more hateful,” says Suze emphatically. “Because I tried to make you feel guilty all the time. But what was I doing? What was I doing?” Her voice rises in distress and fresh tears start flooding down her face. “It’s been a kind of madness. Ever since I came out to L.A., I felt like I wanted to escape my boring old British life. But now I’d give anything to…” She trails off and scrubs at her eyes. “I’d give anything for…”
“You can have your life back,” I say firmly. “But first you have to not give any money to Bryce.”
Suze is silent for a while, twisting her hands round and round.
“But what if he tells Tarkie?” she whispers at last.
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