The One You Really Want (52 page)

Now he really wished he had.

Feeling sick, Rennie's fingers gripped the window ledge. Over in the square Nick and Carmen were still clutching each other, talking together, no doubt planning their shared future. He watched Nick in his manky green sweater stroking Carmen's arm as she spoke, then drawing her against him once more. Unable to bear it a moment longer, Rennie swore and abruptly turned away. This was his punishment for having lived the life he had. Worst of all, he knew that for Carmen's sake he would have to pretend to be pleased for her when she waltzed into the house with Nick and announced that the two of them were back together.

Well, maybe he could manage that for a couple of minutes but there was no way he was going to be cracking open the champagne and sitting around toasting their future happiness.

His jaw tightening, Rennie decided he'd go out. Congratulate them, then apologise and say he had to be somewhere. Then he'd shoot off and leave them to it.

What he might be leaving them
to
didn't bear thinking about.

After a long shower Rennie returned to his room and pulled on a clean white shirt and faded jeans. He hadn't shaved - his hands hadn't been steady enough to risk it - but he splashed on some aftershave anyway in the vain hope that it might make him feel better.

Checking out of the window, he saw that the square was now empty. Having dimly heard the front door opening and closing while he'd been in the shower, this meant that Carmen and Nick were here in the house.

Rennie ran his fingers through his wet hair and grimly surveyed his reflection in the mirror. Here he was, the so-called rock star with everything. And how much good had it done him?

Right now he'd never felt colder or emptier in his life.

You lost, he won, sang an irritating voice in his head as he made his way downstairs. You lost, he won, you—

The sound of Carmen's cry of anguish caused Rennie to halt abruptly at the foot of the staircase. Would it be too much to hope that she'd just accidentally trapped Nick's willy in his trouser zip? So painfully and irretrievably that there was nothing the surgeons could do but amputate? Oh yes, that would do very nicely indeed.

The curse had come from the living room. Much as he had no desire to view another man's trapped willy, Rennie moved towards the closed living-room door. Maybe he could call the ambulance.

Innocently he said, ‘Everything all right in there?'

He heard frantic scuffling, then Carmen yelling out in alarm, ‘Rennie! Don't come in!'

Rennie pictured Nick, his teeth gritted with pain as he struggled to free his willy from the mercilessly sharp teeth of the zip. Or maybe Carmen was hurriedly making herself decent.

‘Fuck,
fuck
,' he heard Carmen gasp as a clattering sound ensued.

‘What's wrong? Carmen, are you OK?'

‘Oh,
I'm
OK.' Carmen sounded out of breath and panicky. Could Nick's unfortunate accident be causing him to gush litres of blood all over the pale carpet?

‘Want me to fetch the first aid tin?' Rennie offered, beginning to enjoy the fantasy of his rival in love losing his most prized possession.

Except he wasn't his rival in love, was he? Nick had won.

‘Not the first aid tin,' Carmen yelled. ‘Fetch the Cif. And that squirty carpet cleaner stuff. And lots of J-Cloths and kitchen roll. And stay outside,' she added distractedly. ‘Just leave them by the door.'

Gallons of blood then. Excellent. Having located everything Carmen needed, Rennie returned from the kitchen and pushed open the living-room door. Well, if Nick was dead she wasn't going to be able to shift the body on her own, was she?

‘Can't you
ever
do anything I tell you?' Carmen let out a wail of despair. ‘I
said
don't come in.'

She was on her knees in front of the TV, surrounded by a slew of videos and DVDs in and out of their cases, a snowstorm of damp scrunched-up tissues and a brown stain spreading across the carpet. An empty coffee cup lay on its side, coffee was dripping from the DVD player and there were wet patches on the knees of her jeans.

There was no Nick in the room, either dead or alive, mutilated or intact. Carmen was on her own, looking harassed and caught out.

‘What happened?' Rennie was referring to the absence of Nick.

‘For crying out loud, what does it look like? I tripped over the sodding mains lead from the stupid DVD player and lost my balance and spilled my
buggering
cup of coffee.' Carmen's cheeks were hectically flushed, her tone defiant. ‘It's gone into the DVD player and all over your precious videos and DVDs and I'll replace them, OK? But I'm warning you, if you start shouting at me for wrecking your collection I shall have to kill you, because I'm not in the mood for being shouted at.'

Rennie watched her frantically shaking coffee out of his video of
The Asphalt Jungle
, before wiping it with a handful of tissues. Crouching down next to her, he silently inspected the damage. The DVDs would be fine but the videos were all coffee-logged and beyond saving.
Scaramouche,
with Stewart Granger. Garbo's
Ninotchka
. The Marx Brothers'
Night at the Opera
. He picked up his favourite Humphrey Bogart video,
To Have and Have Not
, and lukewarm coffee seeped out onto the sleeve of his white shirt.

‘I'm sorry,' said Carmen.

‘Where's Nick?'

‘Gone.'

Rennie's throat tightened. ‘Why?'

‘Because he has.' Reaching for a J-Cloth and the aerosol can of foam carpet cleaner, Carmen turned her attention to the carpet.

‘What was he doing here?'

‘Saying sorry. Asking if we could get back together again.'

‘And?' said Rennie.

‘I said no, we couldn't.'

Carefully he said, ‘I was watching the two of you out in the square.'

‘Well, that figures.' Still squirting mountains of foam and energetically scrubbing away, Carmen kept her head down. ‘Allowing people their privacy never has been your strong point.'

Rennie ignored this. ‘Why did you say no?'

‘Because it would never work.'

Evenly he said, ‘Still the money thing?'

‘No. Because I don't love him.'

‘I thought you did.'

‘So did I. At first. But . . . well, as it turns out, I don't.'

‘Why not?'

‘God, you're nosy.' Leaning back on her heels, Carmen watched as Rennie reached for her right arm and firmly prised the J-Cloth from her hand. ‘What are you doing?'

‘I was watching from the window,' Rennie repeated. ‘You were in his arms.'

‘It was nice to be asked. Nick's a great person.' Carmen's eyes were bright. ‘I hugged him and thanked him, then I turned him down. If you must know, he was quite upset. You really shouldn't spy on people,' she added defiantly. ‘It's rude.'

‘So you changed your mind about Nick.' Rennie had no intention of giving up now. ‘Does that mean you may have changed your mind about anyone else?'

‘Give me back that cloth. If I don't scrub this stain out—'

‘Carmen, just tell me.'

‘We'll need a whole new carpet.'

‘Sod the carpet,' said Rennie.

‘Ha, that's easy for you to say! This cost thousands!'

‘Sod the carpet and stop changing the subject.' Rennie gazed intently at Carmen. ‘Why don't you tell me what's really going on here?'

Carmen felt the adrenaline zinging like sparklers through her body. As if bloody Rennie hadn't already guessed. Recklessly she said, ‘Fine. OK. If that's what you want, I will.'

The diamond stud in Rennie's ear glittered as he nodded. ‘I do want.'

Bastard, he was going to make her say it.

‘Right.' Carmen took a deep breath. ‘Well, I realised I didn't love Nick because he could never make me feel like . . . I knew somebody else could make me feel. Even though the other person is a completely hopeless case and the last person in the world anyone with any sense should get involved with.'

‘I see.' Rennie nodded again. ‘Tricky situation. How does this other person - the completely hopeless one - feel about you?'

‘God knows. He told me he loved me.' Carmen heard her voice begin to shake. ‘But he's such a smooth-talking bastard, you can't believe a word he says. So it's probably just one of those lines he uses on girls to get whatever he wants.'

Rennie said, ‘On the other hand, he could really mean it.'

‘I hope so.' Carmen risked a smile. ‘For his sake.'

‘Or you'd punish him severely. Do something completely terrible,' Rennie pointed out, ‘like destroy his entire video collection.'

‘I really am sorry about that.'

‘So you should be. I'm deeply traumatised.' Doing his best to look traumatised, Rennie reached for his sodden copy of
The Great Escape
. ‘In fact, I shall probably need months of professional counselling.'

‘I'll do that, it'll be cheaper. Are you going to shut up now,' said Carmen, ‘and kiss me?'

He broke into a grin. ‘You're the one who started all this. I'd say it was up to you to make the first move.'

Pushing aside the scattered DVDs and videos, Carmen shuffled on her knees through the white drift of carpet cleaning foam until she reached Rennie. She had loved Spike so much, but his descent into drugs had been hard to bear, a millstone round both their necks. It was a problem she would never have with Rennie, who had never touched drugs. Furthermore, she was sure Spike would approve of them getting together.

When Rennie put his arms round her, she breathed in the scent of his aftershave and felt the warmth of his body against hers. Sometimes these things happened and you just had to learn to go with them. No matter how much she'd fought against it, she had no control over her feelings for Rennie. Like it or not, for better or for worse, he was the one she loved and couldn't live without.

As his mouth closed over hers, Carmen realised that this was all she wanted. It was like coming home.

 

‘Nancy, come home.
Please
.'

Nancy gazed at the bouquet on the kitchen table - a rainbow of lilies, roses, long pointy blue foxgloves, glossy exotic leaves, curly twig things and, her all-time favourite, stupendously gaudy sunflowers. It was a vast arrangement, almost as big as the table itself. Of course whenever this happened in films - woman receives bouquet from man she no longer likes - the woman in question invariably dumped it in the nearest bin.

But Nancy couldn't bring herself to do that. It wasn't the flowers' fault that they'd come from Jonathan. They were far too gorgeous to throw away. Besides, even if she'd wanted to, this lot wouldn't fit into any normal-sized bin.

‘Nancy? Are you still there?'

‘Of course I'm still here. And this is where I'm staying.' As she spoke, Nancy idly turned over the card containing her unfaithful husband's grovelling, over-the-top apologies. ‘Jonathan, I'm happy here. I'm not coming back. Our marriage is over and we're getting a divorce.'

‘But it doesn't
have
to be over.' Jonathan's tone was warm, comforting. ‘Look, I know I hurt you and I did a really stupid thing, but I've
learned
from that. You don't know how much I've missed you, sweetheart. We had a great marriage. After this, we can make it an even better one. If you want kids, fine. We'll have as many as you like.'

Nancy hid a smile. Oh, she wanted children all right. But not with Jonathan.

Aloud she said, ‘How about a dog?'

Jonathan, who loathed dogs with a passion, said immediately, ‘Of course you can have a dog.'

‘Great. And a cat?'

‘OK, and a cat.'

‘And a giraffe?'

‘Wh—ha ha ha. Very good.' Jonathan chuckled. ‘OK, sweetheart, maybe not a giraffe. But anything else, within reason.' His voice softened, became cajoling. ‘I just want to make up for all the hurt I caused, is that so terrible? I want you to be
happy
.'

Out of curiosity, Nancy said, ‘What did you do with the sit-on lawnmower?'

‘Nothing! It's right here.' Jonathan sounded excited. ‘Waiting for you!'

Maybe that was why he was so keen to have her back, because the grass needed cutting. ‘Jonathan, about these flowers.'

Eagerly he said, ‘Do you like them?'

‘Well, yes, of course I
like
—'

‘I knew you would! And I told them to put sunflowers in, because I know they're your favourites. Remember the time—'

‘Jonathan,' Nancy blurted out before he could get completely carried away, ‘you can't seriously expect me to come back to you just because you've sent me a bunch of flowers!'

‘It wasn't a bunch.' Hurt, he said, ‘It was a bouquet. It cost two hundred pounds!'

‘Good. I'm glad.'

‘But I didn't mind spending that much,' Jonathan protested, ‘because you're worth it.'

Nancy marvelled at his optimism. ‘And you think that's what's needed to make me change my mind about divorcing you? Two hundred pounds' worth of flowers?'

‘Sweetheart, listen to me, I'll do whatever it takes. I'll come down to London and beg you on my knees if that's what you want.' Sounding increasingly desperate, Jonathan shouted, ‘Nancy, I love you, I'll do anything—'