The One You Really Want (43 page)

‘OK. But he's still rich.' Mia was implacable.

‘So's Prince Philip, but it doesn't mean I fancy him.'

Rolling her eyes, Mia said, ‘Excuse me. Rennie's a
teeny
bit better looking than Prince Philip. I mean, I know he's almost old enough to be my father, but even I can see he's a catch.'

Carmen couldn't quite believe they were having this conversation. Rennie would die laughing if he overheard what Mia was saying.

‘It's not going to happen,' she repeated. ‘He really isn't my type.'

‘Why not?'

Oh, for heaven's sake. ‘He just
isn't
, OK? Trust me.'

Mia said interestedly, ‘Have you ever slept with him?'

‘No!' Carmen gazed around wildly, wondering if anyone would notice if she gagged Mia with a napkin.

‘Fine, calm down, only asking.' Carrying on unperturbed, Mia said, ‘Ever thought about it?'

A napkin probably wouldn't be big enough. Maybe a tablecloth. ‘
No
.'

‘What, never even wondered what it'd be like?'

‘Of course I haven't!' lied Carmen, beginning to panic.

‘No need to go red. It's only natural to
wonder
things. I mean, Rennie's got millions of fans. He's extra good-looking. They'd give anything to sleep with him—'

‘And plenty of them have,' Carmen said bluntly, ‘which could explain why the idea doesn't interest me.'

‘Really? Gosh, now that
is
interesting.' Completely seriously Mia said, ‘So who would you go for then, if you could choose? Cliff Richard?'

When dinner was over, everyone retreated to the bar downstairs to collapse into red velvet sofas, unfasten tight zips, and carry on drinking and gossiping. Having checked that Tabitha was happily occupied chatting away to Mia and Nancy, Connor joined Rennie over at the bar and lit up a long overdue cigarette.

‘Great evening,' said Connor, offering him a Marlboro and accepting a balloon glass of cognac. ‘Thanks.'

‘My pleasure.' Rennie's eyes glittered with amusement. ‘Especially the look on Zac's face when Tabitha nearly outed him in front of his old man.'

‘I thought Zac was going to wet himself. Poor Tab, she was mortified when she found out what she'd almost done.'

Rennie nodded over at Tabitha, with her tousled blond hair and merry face. ‘So is this it then? Could she be the one?' It wasn't that he hankered after Tabitha himself, but the thought of couples being idyllically happy together had begun to stir envy in him in recent months.

‘No,' said Connor.

‘No? Really? I thought the two of you got on well.'

‘We do. But she still isn't the one.' Shaking his head, Connor took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled a plume of smoke. ‘OK, you want the truth? I've developed a system. It's called self-preservation. You see, Mia's desperate to see me settled down.' He pulled a face. ‘And you know what my daughter's like when she gets an idea into her head. So what I do now is, I never let on when I really like someone, otherwise Mia just charges in like a rhino. It's mayhem. The best thing to do is head her off at the pass, just state categorically that whoever it is does nothing for you. That way, you nip her plans in the bud before she can destroy your life.'

Rennie grinned, only too easily able to imagine Mia in unstoppable matchmaking mode. ‘She's a handful.'

‘You're not kidding.' Connor spoke with feeling. ‘Once, when she was ten, she asked me if I thought her form teacher was pretty. Miss Quinn, her name was. Well, the unfortunate woman had cross-eyes and a bit of a wart on her nose, but what can you do? I said I thought Miss Quinn was very pretty and didn't think any more of it. But that was enough for Mia. She wrote an essay about her daddy being in love with Miss Quinn and wanting to marry her so they could have lots of children together and live happily ever after in a big house by the sea. Bloody embarrassing parents' evening, let me tell you, being flirted with by Miss Quinn and her quivering wart. She kept telling me how much she loved the theatre, waiting for me to ask her out. Anyway,' Connor shuddered at the memory and stubbed out his cigarette, ‘that was enough to scar me for life. Never again. Mia might be able to boss me around but there's no way she's going to interfere with my love life. She encouraged me to go out with Tabitha and I'm going along with that to keep her happy, but there's no future in it. If I really like someone, the last thing I'm going to do is let Mia get wind of - oh, hi!'

‘Hi,' said Nancy, breathing fast as Connor spun round to face her. ‘Sorry, I didn't mean to—'

‘Pinch your bum?' said Rennie cheerfully. ‘Nance, you have to stop doing that. It's harassment.'

‘Interrupt.' Flustered, Nancy attempted to make sense of what she'd just overheard. If it meant what she thought it meant . . .

‘Hey, no problem, Nancy can pinch my bum any time she likes.' Connor grinned, then glanced over at the sofas. ‘Although Zac's father might wonder what's going on.'

‘Not to mention Tabitha,' Rennie added with a wink.

‘I didn't actually pinch anybody's bum,' said Nancy. ‘I only came over to let you know Mia doesn't want ice in her Coke.'

Connor sighed. ‘And there was me thinking I was irresistible. '

Nancy gazed at him, wondering why he always had to make it so hard to tell whether or not he was joking. Oh God, so did this mean his assertion to Mia that he didn't find her remotely attractive
hadn't
been true? Could he actually—

‘Of course he's irresistible.' Appearing at Nancy's side, Tabitha gave her a cheery nudge. ‘Didn't I tell you that the first moment I clapped eyes on him? I said, that'll do for me!'

‘Flattery'll get you everywhere.' Connor slid his arm round her curvy waist.

‘Ten out of ten, I awarded you. Of course, you've gone down to eight now.' Beaming up at him, Tabitha said, ‘I've never known anyone take so long to order a round of drinks.'

‘Ah well, there are some things you shouldn't hurry.' Connor's eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘Take as long as possible, that's what I say, and make sure you get it right.' Puzzled, he lifted his head. ‘What was that?'

Nancy looked as mystified as the rest of them, passionately grateful that nobody else seemed to have realised that she'd just squeaked like a mouse.

Nick looked up as Rennie appeared in the kitchen doorway. ‘Hi. Can I help you?'

Friendly and without a flicker of recognition.

‘I'm Rennie Todd,' said Rennie, causing the thin redhead currently washing up at the sink to whip round and stare at him, open-mouthed in disbelief.

Nick's expression changed, grew less friendly. ‘Carmen's brother-in-law. The big rock star.'

‘Oh God, you're Rennie Todd,' gasped the skinny redhead. ‘From Red Lizard.'

‘I am,' Rennie agreed.

‘Pat, just get on with the washing-up.' Nick's tone was curt. ‘We're going through to the office.'

‘Oh, but—'

‘And we don't want to be disturbed.'

Once they were inside the office, Rennie said, ‘This won't take long.'

Nick scowled. ‘It certainly won't if you've come here to try and persuade me to change my mind. I suppose Carmen sent you, she's—'

‘Yes, she sent me. And no, I haven't come here to try and change your mind. Far from it,' Rennie went on evenly. Deeply tempting though it was to tell Nick he'd made the biggest mistake of his life, he didn't want him thinking it through, realising that he might be right and promptly having a change of heart. The last thing he needed was Nick embarking on a campaign to win Carmen back.
Wanker
. Aloud he said, ‘Anyway, never mind about that. Carmen's fine. Very well indeed. She asked me to come here because she has something for one of your clients.'

Nick's eyes narrowed. ‘Who?'

‘Harry. Carmen said he usually comes in around now for his lunch.'

‘What's she got for him?'

Ignoring the question, Rennie said, ‘Is he here?'

‘Yes.'

‘Good. I'll go and have a word with him.'

‘I'll come with you, point him out.'

‘No need.' Rennie, who remembered only too well what Harry looked like, said, ‘I can manage.'

Harry was sitting in the tartan armchair at the far end of the room, away from the blaring television and a spirited debate about Premier Division football clubs. As before, he was buried in a book. When Rennie sat down beside him, he glanced up and - unlike Nick - recognised him.

But not in an overwhelmed, Pat-in-the-kitchen type of way.

‘Hello,' said Harry.

‘Hi. Rennie Todd.' As Rennie shook his hand, he saw that the book Harry had been reading was a yellowed, battered copy of Roget's Thesaurus. ‘I'm a friend of Carmen's.'

Harry nodded slowly. ‘She's a good girl. Everyone liked Carmen. Not working here any more, I understand. We'll miss her.'

‘There's something she'd like you to have.' Rennie took a labelled key from the pocket of his leather jacket. ‘She took a six-month lease on a flat in Battersea, but she won't be using it now. So it's yours if you want it. Otherwise it'll be standing empty.'

Harry's hand began to tremble as he took the key and looked at the address on the label. ‘Why me?'

‘Why anyone? Carmen thought you'd appreciate the peace and quiet. There's a word processor in the flat,' said Rennie, ‘in case you feel like making a start on another book. You never know, things might turn out differently this time. No pressures. It's a decent little place. Furnished. Had a burst pipe recently, but everything's been dried out now and redecorated. '

There were tears in Harry's eyes. Aware that he and Rennie were being watched by everyone else in the room, he wiped his face with his sleeve.

‘Tell her thank you. You don't know what this means to me.' Harry shook his hand. ‘This is incredible.'

‘No problem. Look, I'm going to go now.' Before he attracted too much more attention, Rennie rose to his feet. ‘Good luck with the writing.'

Harry sat there for several seconds after Rennie had left, silently gazing at the key.

Nick came over and said, ‘What was that all about, then?'

‘Carmen's given me a flat for six months.' Harry's voice quivered with emotion. ‘And a word processor. So that I can start writing again.'

Nick frowned. How on earth had Carmen found out about Harry's brief encounter with the world of publishing?

One thing was for sure, she certainly hadn't heard it from him.

 

‘Crikey, it's Janice,' said Zac, startled and double-checking his watch. ‘Hello, my darling, bit early for you, isn't it? I thought you didn't get out of bed before midday - whoaaah, whatever
happened
to you?'

Equally shocked, Nancy stared as Janice Hazzard removed her dark glasses to reveal dramatically blackened eyes and a bruised and swollen cheekbone. Only Doreen, unperturbed, leapt up from her basket and trotted across the shop to greet one of her favourite customers.

‘You see, this is what's so heavenly about dogs,' Janice exclaimed, scooping Doreen up into her arms and letting the little dog lick her face. ‘You can look a complete gargoyle and they still love you.'

‘She loves you because you always give her chocolate buttons.' Bemused by Janice's chirpy manner, Zac peered more closely at her face. ‘Did you have your eyes done? I can't see any stitches.'

‘My darling, I was attacked! Mugged!' Janice tut-tutted. ‘Honestly, you can tell you don't read the papers.'

‘When? What happened? My God, sit down! Nancy, get her a coffee, run upstairs and get the brandy, the good stuff.'

‘Will you stop fussing about me? I'm
fine
.' Janice flapped her bejewelled hands, wafting clouds of Eau Dynamisante. ‘Calm down, for heaven's sake. I'm a tough old bird. Bloody hell, compared with all the crap I've had to put up with in my life from men, this was nothing.'

‘You could have been killed,' Zac shouted, far more shaken than Janice.

‘But I wasn't. What's more, I won.' Sitting down and crossing her legs, she looked triumphant. ‘This
huge
bloke jumped me as I was heading up our front path, tried to grab my bag. Your bag,' she added, patting the turquoise and apricot suede and velvet shoulder bag on her lap. ‘Well, what a cheek, I wasn't going to let him take
that
, was I? So we had a little wrestle.'

‘Are you mad?' Zac bellowed in disbelief. ‘You're lucky he didn't have a knife!'

‘I love my bag. He wasn't having it,' Janice repeated. ‘So anyway, that was when he punched me in the face, expecting me to go down like a skittle. Except what with all the practice I've had, getting battered by men, I didn't. And that was when I whacked him with my bag.'

‘That bag?' Nancy said doubtfully. Suede? Velvet? Lined with silk?

‘Ah, but what he didn't know was what I had in it.' Janice triumphantly recrossed her legs. ‘Malcolm's always said I carry around everything bar the kitchen sink. That's why I like a bag that's nice and roomy.'

Zac said, ‘What did you have in it?'

‘Well, make-up case, obviously. Phone. Purse. Keys. Cigs, heavy lighter, A-Z - you know, all the usual stuff. Then, happily, I happened to have nicked a really big glass ashtray from the restaurant my agent had taken me to at lunchtime.'