Good at Games (16 page)

“He's a slave driver, that's what he is.”

It was Rory's ruffled-up hair that did it. It made him look less intimidating, more vulnerable.

And quite a lot like a parrot. Shyly, Fee said, “I could give you a hand if you like. Help out with the backlog. I'm not busy this afternoon, and I know how to use a computer.”

She'd never seen a man look so relieved.

“You're a lifesaver,” Rory declared. Hastily, he added, “I'll pay you, of course.”

“Don't be daft.” Fee felt herself going pink all over again. “I'm happy to help out.”

“Harry, this is out of control. It's just…mad.”

For the first time, Suzy had managed to get him on his own, by wheeling him outside into the tiny rose garden separating Harry's ward from the one next to it.

It was sunny and still hot for mid-September. Suzy pushed up the sleeves of her black lace top and put on her serious face.

“We have to talk about this. Be honest, you weren't planning to ask me to marry you last night.”

“I was,” said Harry.

“But we've only known each other for three weeks!”

“Nearly four.”

“Harry!”

“Anyway, that's what makes it so romantic. It's a whirlwind affair.”

“It isn't
any
kind of affair,” wailed Suzy. “Affairs are when you're sleeping with each other. And we aren't doing that.”

“I meant it when I said I loved you.” Harry looked mystified. “We're fantastic together, you and me. And now all this has happened…it's like a dream come true! It's the opportunity of a lifetime! We'd be crazy not to make the most of it.”

Suzy shook her head.

“Harry, please, listen to me—”

“No,
you
listen.” He gripped her hand, his eyes as bright as sapphires. “I'm a policeman. I earn an average wage. Signing that deal with
Hi!
gives me as much money as I'd make in ten
years
of patrolling the streets. Think about it, Suzy. It's not even as if I have to do something horrible to earn it—all they want us to do is get married! And go off somewhere exotic on honeymoon! For pity's sake, what's so terrible about that?”

“But it's mercenary and calculated and…and it's not
real
,” shouted Suzy. “And I don't love you, and I don't
want
to marry someone I don't even love!”

“Oh well,” said Harry, “now you're just being selfish. Have you even bothered to
think
about the kids?”

“I don't want to have kids!”

Not yet anyway
, thought Suzy,
and not with you.

“I'm talking about Mikey and Lauren.” Harry gave her a sorrowful look. “They're part of the deal too.”

“What?” Suzy shook her head; she couldn't for the life of her imagine what he meant. Unless…

Oh, good grief. Don't tell me we have to
adopt
them.

“Their mother's divorced and on welfare. They live in public housing, and they've never had a vacation in their lives,” said Harry. “When we get married, Lauren's our flower girl, and Mikey's a ring bearer—bit young, I know, but that can't be helped. So they get ten grand, and their mother can afford to take them to Disneyland…
Hi!
wasn't bothered about them, you know.” He sounded aggrieved. “But I insisted. For the sake of the kids.”

Suzy still couldn't believe this was happening to her. She had once, years ago, painted herself—literally—into a corner. In her kitchen, to be precise. To get out, she'd been forced to climb onto the washing machine, teeter along the windowsill, leap across to the fridge, then swing herself
around
the open kitchen door and out into the safety of the hall.

This time, clearly, it wasn't going to be so easy to escape.

And I didn't paint myself into this corner anyway
, she thought.
Harry's done it for me.

It was emotional blackmail, nothing less.

“All my life,” Harry went on softly, almost to himself, “Leo's been the successful one. He always got everything he wanted—the career, the money, the girls—and I've felt inferior to him. Second rate.” He shook his head defiantly. “But now I've got a chance to even things up. The money, the girl—you—
and
I'm a hero into the bargain. Don't you see, Suzy? What was it that guy from
Hi!
said? This is the story that's going to capture the hearts of our nation. And it's going to change
my whole life
.”

Suzy couldn't speak. But she had to.

“I don't love you.”

“Give it time,” Harry pleaded. “OK, maybe you don't think you love me now. But I can make it happen, I know I can.”

“You can't,” said Suzy.

“Why not? What have I ever done wrong?”

This, for a start.

Struggling to be honest, Suzy said, “It's not you, it's me. Harry, you're a nice person.” She fiddled with the ends of the scary yellow-and-purple scarf in her lap. “I think it's just that you're too nice.”

“Oh well, that's easy enough to sort out.” Harry flashed her the smile that had earlier melted the hearts of every female in the conference room. “I'll just have to be really horrible to you instead.”

* * *

Lucille arrived to visit Harry two hours later.

“You look cheerful, for a man with barely an unbroken bone in his body.” Greeting him with a kiss, she tipped the contents of a shopping bag over Harry's bed. Nectarines, bars of chocolate, a bottle of Gatorade, and several paperbacks tumbled out.

“Anything else you need, just let me know,” said Lucille. “Although I expect Suzy's gotten you loads of stuff already. Is she here?”

“Hiding in my bedside cabinet.” Harry grinned. “No, she had to get back to work. She'll be over again later.”

“I brought your cards and birthday presents too.” Lucille emptied out a second bag. “Those are from me, these are Suzy's. So how did the thingy go…the press conference?”

“Brilliant.” Harry told her everything that had happened, leaving out the bit with Suzy afterward in the rose garden. He was confident he could overcome her qualms; his proposal had come out of the blue, that was all. As soon as Suzy was over the shock, he knew he'd be able to win her over.

“You're kidding! That's
fantastic
news,” squealed Lucille, her beaded hair flying as she threw her arms around him in delight.

“Ouch,” Harry said mildly as one of the beads went
clonk
against the stitched-together gash on his left cheekbone. But his blue eyes were sparkling, and his smile was broad. “I know it is.”

* * *

Rory couldn't believe he'd been so rude. It hadn't even occurred to him at the time that he was being rude. But, mentally replaying his brief conversation with Fee Driscoll as he drove back to the office at five o'clock, he now cringed at his own boorishness.

Fee had been generous enough to help them out and in return he had said, “Tell Suzy she owes you a drink.”

Rory winced again. How utterly crass could you get? He could just imagine Fee's remarks on the subject when she saw Suzy tonight.

Which was odd, because normally he was too busy thinking about the business to worry about what anyone else might think of him.

Rory pulled up at the toll booth, fed his money in, and set off across the Suspension Bridge. The sun was still bright, glittering on the river below, and he could see plenty of people sitting out on the terrace of the Avon Gorge Hotel.

That's what I'll do
, thought Rory.
Get back to the office and announce that we all deserve a drink.

He would show Fee that he appreciated her efforts, take them all down to the Terrace Bar, and buy a few rounds. Maybe even buy a couple of bottles of celebratory champagne.

After all, Fee had sold a house to the Taylors, the original clients from hell.

Yes
, thought Rory, pleased with himself.
That would be a nice touch.

* * *

Suzy was perched on the edge of her desk swinging her legs when Rory came into the office. Donna was still heroically working away behind her computer and Martin was hanging up sets of keys.

“OK, we are done for the day. We're off to the Terrace Bar, and the drinks are on me,” Rory declared. He peered around the door leading to the back room. “Where's Fee?”

“She left half an hour ago. Had some stuff to do before she goes out this evening,” said Donna.

“Oh.” Damn. Rory wished he'd looked around the door before making his announcement. They wouldn't let him back out of it now.

Donna tapped a pile of letters in her out tray. “She did brilliantly. We've almost caught up.”

Rory swallowed. That just made things worse. “Well…if it's not convenient, we could always make it another time…?”

Donna and Martin immediately looked outraged; he might have known it would never work.

“Oh no, we couldn't,” Suzy announced, jumping down from her desk. “Come on, let's go. I definitely need a drink.”

* * *

The next day Harry's picture was splashed across every paper. If he had been ugly, it would still have been a terrific story, but Harry's movie-star looks were what had really tipped the scales.

If there was anything the public liked better than a hero, it was a drop-dead gorgeous hero, Suzy realized, awed by the scale of the coverage. According to the hospital administrator in charge of Harry mania, the switchboard was being inundated with calls from well-wishers offering congratulations, get-well messages—and sometimes much more. There were plenty of amateur physical therapists out there, it seemed, all eager to offer services of an astonishingly personal nature if Harry required a bit of help getting his poor battered body back into full working order.

Suzy just wished he'd take a few of them up on it.

If one more person told her how lucky she was, she might be tempted to plunge a hypodermic needle into them.

“Ooh, you're so
lucky
,” said one of the auxiliary nurses who worked on an adjoining ward. She had popped in to Harry's room to tell him how wonderful he was and ask for an autograph. With his right arm in a cast, Harry had had to sign his name with his left hand—a wobbly affair that looked as if it had been done by a three-year-old.

Suzy smiled dutifully. Just as well there wasn't a hypodermic needle in sight.

“I know.”

“I'm the lucky one,” said Harry. “Getting to marry the girl of my dreams.”

Suzy's smile grew fixed, like a beauty queen's.
Now remind me, where
do
they keep the sick bags?

“You make such a perfect couple,” the nurse assured them. “Think of the beautiful children you'll have!”

The middle-aged receptionist popped her frizzy head around the door.

“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.”

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 hands 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.”