The One You Really Want (37 page)

Zac looked at Rennie, whose mouth was twitching at the corners.

‘Oh, I think he does,' Rennie assured Rose.

‘But . . . but he lives next door to us,' Rose spluttered. ‘With his wife, Marjorie. This is just . . . well,
extraordinary
. Whatever's he doing here in your flat?'

 

Bracing herself the next morning, Nancy let herself into the shop. Doreen came trotting over, her tail wagging eagerly, and she scooped the little dog up into her arms.

At least someone was pleased to see her.

‘Hello, baby, how are you?' Nancy heard her voice go squeaky, as if she'd been sucking helium. ‘Had a nice walk this morning? Been playing with your ball?'

Through the open door leading into the workroom, Nancy could see Zac with his back to her, pinning a swathe of midnight blue velvet round his tailor's dummy. Raising her Minnie Mouse voice, she called out casually, ‘Hi, Zac. Everything OK?'

He stopped pinning and turned to face her. Said flatly, ‘So they told you.'

Maybe not that casual then.

‘Sorry.' Nancy moved towards him, feeling horribly responsible and clutching Doreen like a security blanket. ‘Am I sacked?'

Zac heaved a sigh. ‘Why?'

‘Because it's all my fault. I sent Mum over here last night. She brought Rennie along with her. As far as I was concerned, the flat was empty.' Nancy pulled a face. ‘I was sure you wouldn't mind.'

‘Great timing.' Zac was wearing a pale grey shirt today, and plain dark blue trousers. It was as if he hadn't had the energy to choose his usual outrageous get-up. ‘One thing. How did Rennie know Geoffrey was in the broom cupboard?'

Geoffrey. It was hard enough to believe that Brigadier Brough-Badham
had
a Christian name, let alone that it was Geoffrey.

‘Well, he said you were as jumpy as a cat on a hot-plate. Then when he brushed his hand against the coffee mugs on the kitchen table,' Nancy explained, ‘he realised they were both warm.'

And Rennie, being Rennie, had been overcome with curiosity.

‘Have to start calling him Miss Marple.' Pushing his unwashed blond hair back from his face, Zac said wearily, ‘Put the coffee on, will you? I suppose we'd better talk.'

‘We don't have to.' Vigorously Nancy shook her head. ‘Not if you don't want to.'

But Zac gave her a pitying look. ‘Of course I don't
want
to, but we certainly
do
have to. Geoffrey's your neighbour. None of you has ever got on with him. How do you suppose he's feeling now? If his wife finds out, this'll kill him.'

‘She doesn't know?' Nancy was incredulous. Then again, she had spent the whole of last night being incredulous. The thought of Zac and Brigadier Brough-Badham together was, frankly, mind-boggling.

‘There are plenty of gay men who are married. Especially the older ones,' said Zac. ‘Geoffrey had his army career to think of. His family. He did his best to fit in. You have no idea how difficult his life has been,' he added defensively. ‘And now this. If Marjorie gets to hear about it, I don't know what he'll do.'

‘We won't tell her.' Appalled, Nancy said, ‘That's a promise. Truly, we won't breathe a word.'

‘You might not,' Zac said soberly. ‘But what about Rennie?'

‘He won't either!'

‘Really? He blurted everything out to you though, didn't he?'

Hot with embarrassment, Nancy recalled her and Carmen's arrival home last night. Rennie, greeting them at the front door, had practically dragged them over the threshold exclaiming, ‘Quick, quick, get in, you are not going to
believe
this!'

‘He did,' she admitted, ‘but only because the Brigadier's always hated us so much. I mean, poor Carmen, he's been awful to her.' Hastily Nancy added, ‘But Rennie would never tell Marjorie. That would just hurt
her
.'

‘Try telling Geoffrey that.'

‘Rennie isn't malicious.'

Zac said seriously, ‘Geoffrey couldn't bear it. That's the truth. It would destroy both of them.'

‘Don't worry.' Nancy vowed to speak to Rennie. ‘And tell Brig - um, Geoffrey not to worry either. Really.'

‘And the moral of this story is,' Zac grimaced, ‘if your phone rings, answer it. We weren't in bed or anything, by the way, when you tried to contact me. We were in the kitchen, just talking and drinking coffee.'

‘I didn't think that,' Nancy lied, flushing as the unthinkable mental image of Zac and Geoffrey in bed together flashed through her mind.

‘OK, stop
picturing
it. Just sit down and I'll tell you the whole story.'

‘I don't want to—'

‘It's kind of relevant,' Zac said evenly, ‘seeing that if it wasn't for Geoffrey, I wouldn't have this shop.'

‘I've always been hopeless with men. Well, you know that.' Zac gestured sadly with his hands. ‘It's all over between me and Sven, by the way. He chucked me yesterday, texted me to say he's met someone else.'

‘Oh God, I'm sorry.' Nancy winced in sympathy; he'd been crazy about Sven.

‘Don't be. I'm used to it by now. Anyway, I met Geoffrey eight years ago. I was coming out of a gay bar in Soho, pretty upset because some other boyfriend had just given me the boot in favour of someone prettier. Geoffrey was walking past when I literally bumped into him. He asked me if I was hurt and I said too right, I was
always
getting hurt. And he invited me to go for a drink. I wasn't some kind of gigolo,' Zac said defensively. ‘I mean, I know he's quite a bit older than me, but we really seemed to hit it off, you know? We talked for hours. He told me he was married. I told him about my disastrous love life. The thing with Geoffrey is, he's so buttoned up on the outside, keeping this stiff upper lip and going around like Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells. But inside, deep down, he's just another desperately unhappy man who hasn't been able to live the kind of life he was meant to live. He was ashamed of his feelings towards other men. He called it his weakness. I couldn't believe I'd found someone unhappier than I was.'

‘So you started . . . um, seeing each other.' Nancy was eager to skim over the details.

‘For about a year,' Zac agreed. ‘And I did love him, but the age thing was always a problem. We were friends more than anything, two lonely people in need of company and someone to talk to. After a while the physical side fizzled out, but we stayed good friends.'

Nancy gestured around the shop. ‘And this place?' Although she'd already half guessed.

‘I was struggling to get my own business up and running. The banks wouldn't loan me enough to set up anywhere decent. I didn't ask Geoffrey to help me,' Zac said fiercely. ‘I know what you're thinking, but it wasn't like that. He'd always encouraged me, been there for me during the hard times. Then one day he was driving down this street and he saw the For Sale sign up outside this place. It used to be an antiquarian book shop. Geoffrey rang and told me to come and take a look. So I did, but it was obviously way out of my price range. I mean, Levine Street in Chelsea, was he mad? But the next day Geoffrey came to visit me. He gave me an envelope with a cheque inside, for more money than I'd ever seen in my life.' Tears filled Zac's eyes and he blinked them back. ‘I couldn't believe it. We weren't sleeping together. Geoffrey didn't want anything in return. He just told me he wanted me to take it, to make my dreams come true. Remember when you asked me about this place? And I told you my godmother left me the money when she died? That was a lie.'

‘Well, the truth would have come as quite a shock.' Bemused, Nancy said, ‘But what about his wife? Didn't Marjorie notice all this money missing from their bank account?'

‘She's independently wealthy.' Zac shook his head. ‘They have separate accounts. Separate beds, separate everything.'

No wonder they'd always looked so miserable. Glancing up, Nancy saw a baby-blue MG pulling up outside the shop - double-parking, because its owner didn't believe in searching for something as unbelievably tedious as a parking space.

‘Lysette's here for her fitting.' She clasped Zac's hand. ‘Don't worry about Rennie, I'll speak to him. He won't breathe a word.'

For a moment Zac looked as if he might be about to cry again. Then, visibly bracing himself, he stood up to deal with over-excitable Lysette and said, ‘Well, let's hope so. Because apart from anything else, I'd really hate Geoffrey to ask for his money back.'

 

Carmen wondered if this was how Richard and Judy felt, working and living together and never tiring of each other's company. It was practically how she and Nick were nowadays. Apart from the evening before last, when Nancy had mislaid her credit card, they had been spending all their time together and it felt . . . well, fantastic. Unbelievably great. Last night they had gone ten pin bowling with Annie and her boyfriend before picking up takeaway pizzas and heading back to Battersea for a boisterous game of Monopoly. When Annie and Jonathan had finally left the flat just before midnight, Nick had slowly removed her clothes and made love to her, and she had given herself to him entirely, wondering if it was possible to feel happier than this.

And now, this morning, here they were on their way into work together, swaying in unison on the packed tube train, and Carmen couldn't help feeling sorry for her fellow commuters because none of them was as filled with such indescribable joy as she was. She felt like the sun, radiating happiness that must surely be visible. Were people covertly glancing her way, nudging each other and whispering, ‘Look at her, see that girl over there, did you ever see anyone
glow
like that? Now that's a girl in love.'

‘I hate to tell you this,' Nick whispered, ‘but you're starting to scare people.'

Carmen squirmed with pleasure as his warm breath tickled her ear. ‘Why?'

‘That smirk on your face. You look like a spaniel who's just heard a really smutty joke.'

‘I do not.' Reaching under his jacket at the back and pinching his bottom, Carmen murmured, ‘Anyway, it's all your fault.'

‘Excellent news. I'm delighted to hear that I'm capable of making you smirk like a spaniel. I shall be adding this talent to my CV.'

He bent his head and kissed her on the mouth, and Carmen had to hang on to the handrail for dear life as her knees turned to noodles. Behind her, someone sniffed loudly. Another person tut-tutted with disgust at such a wanton, early morning display of affection. Carmen pulled away and gave them a smug, pitying look as the train pulled in at Paddington. They weren't happy and she was. She'd never been so glad to be alive.

 

Clutching a laundry basket, Annie came through to the kitchen while Carmen was clearing up after breakfast.

‘There's a wobbly one out there.' She pulled a face. ‘Bit smelly, too. Been on a giant bender by the look of it. Nick says could you make him a coffee. White, two sugars.'

‘No problem.' Carmen finished the last of the drying-up and reached for a clean mug. ‘Have we seen him before?'

Annie shook her head. ‘First-timer. Ask him if he'd like us to wash his clothes. I'll just get on with this lot.' She paused, her eyes sparkling. ‘Still going well with Nick then?'

Since there was no point in even trying to deny it, Carmen grinned. ‘Really well.'

‘I'm so glad. You make a great couple.' Mischievously Annie said, ‘Might not be long before I have to start looking for a new flatmate.'

‘Too soon.' Carmen felt herself flush pink.

‘Ah, but sometimes you just know when something's right.' Shifting the laundry basket to her other hip, Annie said, ‘And when that happens, why wait? I mean, it's not as if you only just met each other, is it?'

‘We'll see.' This was a bridge Carmen intended to cross in her own good time. Piling coffee and sugar into the blue and white striped mug, she said, ‘What's this chap's name, anyway?'

‘Russell.' Annie made calming-down movements with her free hand. ‘Don't get your hopes up. He looks nothing like Russell Crowe.'

 

Russell. Russ. Carmen, standing frozen in the doorway, felt as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. The moment she'd seen him she'd recognised him and the implications were too hideous to contemplate.

Big Russ, that was how he'd been known when he'd worked as a roadie for Red Lizard. Numbly clutching the mug of hot coffee, Carmen worked out that it was five years since she'd last seen him. At the end of that year's world tour, Big Russ had been faced with an ultimatum from his wife: either he gave up travelling and took a job closer to home, or their marriage was over. Reluctantly, Big Russ had resigned from the job he loved, relinquishing it for the sake of the pretty blonde wife he adored.

What had happened since then? How had he been reduced to this? Finding it hard to breathe, Carmen watched Russ struggle to roll a cigarette, drop tobacco all over the floor and curse loudly. In such a state, how on earth was she going to make him understand that he mustn't mention her connection with Red Lizard?

Could she double back into the kitchen, escape through the fire exit and hide amongst the dustbins until he was gone? Would that work? Or maybe a paper bag over her head? Oh God, how could this be happening to her now?

‘You're in my way,' grumbled Baz, attempting to shuffle past with a tray of empty plates.

Nick, from across the room, saw Carmen hesitating. Pointing over at Big Russ, he mouthed helpfully, ‘Over there.'