The One You Really Want (54 page)

‘You didn't even tell me you were applying for jobs in New York.'

‘It wasn't that planned. A friend of mine went over there last year. She emailed me a couple of days ago, to tell me her latest boyfriend had dumped her. I emailed back and told her that mine was about to chuck me. I'd kind of guessed,' Tabitha explained drily in response to the look on Connor's face, ‘when you made all those excuses not to meet my parents. Anyway, I jokingly asked Kate if there were any jobs going on her paper. Ten minutes later she rang me from work and told me there was. The next thing I knew, she'd put me on to the editor of the financial section whose assistant had just handed in his notice. We had a long chat - his name's Duane, can you believe it? - and he said he'd need to see some of my work. So yesterday I sat down and wrote three completely brilliant pieces - if I say so myself - about mutual funds, futures and annuities. At midnight I sent them off to him. Then this afternoon he rang back to offer me the job!'

‘It's the opportunity of a lifetime. You couldn't turn that down,' said Connor.

‘No.' Her smile rueful, Tabitha said, ‘But I would have.'

Connor reached for the bottle of wine and topped up her glass. ‘Trust me, you'll have the time of your life. And end up meeting someone who really deserves you.'

‘How about you, then?' Tabitha eased off her pink high-heeled shoes and tucked her feet under her. Tilting her head to one side, she said, ‘Who deserves you?'

Connor pulled a face. ‘God only knows. Who'd want an old wreck like me?'

‘Don't be flippant. Honestly, typical man. Any mention of emotions and you panic.' Taking a sip of wine, Tabitha said, ‘Come on, you can tell me. Who do you like?'

Connor immediately began to panic. As if he was going to tell her
that
. Banishing all thoughts of Nancy firmly from his mind, he said, ‘Well, Michelle Pfeiffer's not bad. If you want to put in a good word.'

‘See? You're doing it again.'

‘Or that Penny Thingummy who reads the news on GMTV. Sparkly eyes,' said Connor. ‘And a naughty smile. I like her.'

‘How about Nancy?'

‘What?' A breezeblock landed with a thud on Connor's chest. Had he just said Nancy's name aloud instead of thinking it? And why was Tabitha looking at him like that?

‘You heard.'

‘I don't know what you mean.' The breezeblock was pressing ever more heavily on his lungs. Was this how it felt to have a heart attack?

‘Oh, come on, Connor, why don't you just admit it? Because I know,' said Tabitha. ‘I
saw
you.'

‘Saw me where? Saw me when? Doing what?' He'd felt like this once before, upon being caught stealing apples from the local priest's garden. He'd denied it, despite the fact that apples were bulging from the pockets of his grey school trousers. For thieving
and
having the shameless gall to lie about it, the priest had walloped him so hard he hadn't been able to sit down for a week.

Except he'd been eight years old then. At least Tabitha wasn't likely to give him a walloping.

‘Your face.' Lighting another cigarette and taking fast, jerky puffs, Tabitha said, ‘You should see yourself. OK, remember me ringing you from work after Mia glued herself to that lion?'

Rather than risk actually saying anything, Connor nodded.

‘Well, I wasn't at work. As soon as I got your message I jumped into a cab and came down to Trafalgar Square, but you'd already left by then, so I guessed I'd find you at the police station. And I did,' Tabitha went on, her expression rueful. ‘When I turned up, there you were. Outside the station with Nancy. I watched the two of you together from across the road. That's where I was when I phoned you.' Puffing faster than ever on her cigarette, she said, ‘That's when I knew, really. Well, you'd have to be blind not to know. It was so obvious.'

Connor exhaled slowly. Tabitha sounded resigned rather than angry. ‘Was it?'

‘Oh yes.' Her smile was crooked. ‘Well, I clung on for a bit, you know. Tried to pretend it hadn't happened. Deep down though, you know when you're beaten, don't you? But what I don't understand is why the two of you never got together in the first place. I mean, what was to stop it happening before I came along?'

Oh well, if Tabitha could be blunt, so could he.

‘It hasn't happened because Nancy doesn't want it to happen,' Connor admitted. Now that it was finally out in the open, he felt a rush of relief. ‘I'm crazy about her, but she just isn't interested. I asked her out more than once and she said no every time. So you see, I do know how it feels not to have your feelings returned. And there's nothing I can do about it.' Resignedly he said, ‘I suppose I'm just not Nancy's type.'

Two dimples appeared in Tabitha's cheeks. ‘You berk.'

‘I know. God, talk about embarrassing. To think you could tell, just from watching from across the street.' Closing his eyes, Connor sighed. ‘She must be laughing her head off. I can't believe I was so obvious.'

‘You complete and utter berk,' Tabitha repeated, patting his knee and starting to laugh. ‘You really don't get it, do you? When I was watching the two of you, it wasn't just you who was being obvious.'

‘What?' Connor's eyes shot open in disbelief.

‘You should have seen the way Nancy was looking at you when you weren't watching. I'm serious,' Tabitha insisted, stubbing out her cigarette. ‘This was absolutely a two-way thing. I know what I saw that day, and I don't know why she turned you down before. But trust me, you are one hundred per cent
most definitely
Nancy's type.'

A letter had been pushed through the letterbox. Nancy, arriving home from work, bent to pick it up and carried it through to the kitchen. The house was empty. Rennie had whisked Carmen down to Nice for a couple of days and Rose was spending the weekend with William at his home in Westonsuper-Mare. Nancy dumped her bag on the kitchen table, filled the kettle at the sink then messily tore open the envelope with her name on it.

Her name but no address, indicating that the letter had been hand-delivered.

Except it wasn't a letter, it was an invitation. As the kettle behind her came to the boil, Nancy gazed at the thick white card and felt the first stirrings of annoyance. Bloody hell, this was all she needed.

‘Dear Nancy,' said the invitation. ‘You are cordially invited to a picnic in Fitzallen Square on Friday at six o'clock. No need to RSVP. Just be there, please.'

It wasn't signed, but it didn't need to be. And it was already two minutes past six. Irritated, Nancy slapped the invitation down and stormed through to the sitting room. Bloody Jonathan, up to his stupid tricks again.
Why
couldn't he accept that she wasn't going back to him? She'd told him not to come down to London but that was Jonathan for you, he'd never been able to admit defeat.

There was no sign of him outside in the darkening square but Nancy knew he'd be there waiting for her, somewhere out of sight behind the clump of trees and bushes to the left of the wooden bench. She had, in effect, belittled his attempt to woo her with two hundred pounds' worth of flowers, so now he was going that bit further, upping the stakes, making a more extravagant gesture that would no doubt include vintage champagne, smoked salmon and, knowing Jonathan, crystal glasses and fine china plates.

God, what an idiot he was. Checking her watch - ten past six - Nancy wondered what Jonathan would do if she simply ignored the invitation. How long would he stay out there, waiting for her to turn up?

That was one possibility. The other was to march over there right now and tell him in no uncertain terms that he was wasting his time. Which to do? Which to go for? Raking her fingers agitatedly through her hair, Nancy realised she couldn't bear the thought of Jonathan sitting out there all evening with his ridiculous picnic, waiting for her. She had to get rid of him now. Once he was gone, she could get on with having a bath and washing her hair in peace.

 

Dusk was falling as Nancy crossed the road and clicked open the gate. Reaching the wooden bench she turned left and saw the picnic area exactly where she'd known it would be. There were balloons tied to the lower branches of the trees in the mini-glade and candles flickering in glass holders, and a green and red tartan rug had been laid out on the grass.

No vintage champagne, no smoked salmon and no glittering crystal. No Jonathan either.

Instead there was a cake.

Moving towards the rug, Nancy heard a rustling of leaves and saw Connor step out from behind the cluster of trees.

Evenly he said, ‘You're late.'

Adrenaline zapped through every fibre of her body. Nancy, her mouth dry and her brain a whirl of confusion, really wished she hadn't stormed out of the house without first combing her hair and repairing her end-of-a-long-day-at-work make-up.

‘You didn't sign the invitation. I thought it was from Jonathan.'

A flicker of apprehension crossed Connor's face. ‘Were you hoping it was from him?'

‘In a way.' Nancy couldn't begin to figure out what was going on. ‘But only so I could march over here and tell him to fuck off back to Scotland.'

Connor almost smiled, and she realized it was probably the first time he'd heard her say fuck.

‘Well, that's good. The reason I didn't sign the invitation was in case I lost my nerve and ran away. Then you wouldn't have known it had come from me.'

Lost his nerve? Connor was always so utterly laid back and relaxed it was impossible to think of him as being nervous. Yet he
was
looking ill at ease, his hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, his hair more rumpled and his eyebrows somehow less . . . assured than normal. And he was scuffing the ground with the toes of his Timberland boots like a teenager. Her heart banging against her ribcage, Nancy said, ‘Where's Tabitha?' and wondered if at any moment Tabitha would leap out from behind the bushes shrieking, ‘Here I am!
Surprise!'

Connor shrugged awkwardly and said, ‘It's over. Tab's fine. She's going to live in New York. This was kind of her idea, actually.' He indicated the picnic. ‘All this.'

Horror and shame seized Nancy by the throat. Had Tabitha finished with Connor and somehow managed to persuade him, against his will, to make some form of clumsy play for her instead?
Out of pity?
Oh God, oh God.

‘Look, there's no need,' Nancy blurted out, her skin crawling with embarrassment as she backed away from the picnic, the candles, the cake. ‘I don't know what Tab's trying to do here, but—'

‘Ah shit, I've got this all wrong again.' His Irish accent becoming more pronounced, Connor shook his head in despair and said urgently, ‘Wait, you can't go, it isn't what you're thinking at all, I'm just making a complete balls-up as usual. Listen to me,' he pleaded, taking a couple of steps towards Nancy. ‘It's not what Tab's trying to do here, it's what
I'm
trying to do. It's just that according to Tab I did it all wrong last time so this time she gave me some advice on how to make it go a bit better.'

Nancy began to tremble. ‘I don't know what you're talking about.'

‘All this.' Gesturing helplessly at the balloons, the rug, the candles flickering in their holders, Connor said, ‘She knows how much I like you, but I told her you weren't interested in me because when I asked you out before you said no. Tab said I had to make more of an effort, do something . . . you know, romantic. So that's what I'm doing, but to be honest it's not really working out all that well. I've never tried anything like this before. Tab said it would be great, but now that you're here to see it, I feel a bit stupid.'

OK, breathe, just try and breathe normally. Feeling light-headed, Nancy said, ‘I heard you telling Mia I wasn't your type. In your office at the club. You sounded pretty certain then.'

‘Oh God.' Connor slammed his hand against his forehead. ‘I just told her that to stop her sticking her oar in! You know what Mia's like. I wanted to do it by myself, without my bossy daughter scaring you witless with her high-pressure sales pitch.'

For the first time Nancy smiled, thinking of all the trouble Mia had unwittingly caused.

‘So that was it,' Connor went on. ‘I thought I had no chance at all. Until Tabitha told me otherwise.'

That wiped the smile off Nancy's face. Appalled, she cried, ‘
What?
How did Tabitha know?'

‘Just did. Saw us together outside Charing Cross police station,' Connor shrugged, ‘and that was it. According to Tab it was blindingly obvious. One of those girl things, I suppose. Anyway, that was why I took her advice with this whole making-an-effort malarkey.' Scratching his head and pulling a face he said, ‘Which just goes to show how bloody daft I am.'

Nancy felt her heart swelling to beachball proportions. ‘I don't think you're bloody daft.'

Connor looked hopeful. ‘You don't?'

‘You made me a cake. I think that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me.' Unable to hold back any longer, Nancy closed the distance between them and threw her arms round Connor. Her hair was uncombed, her lipstick was worn off and she looked a fright but it didn't matter. She kissed him anyway.

Oh yes, this was definitely, wonderfully, gloriously romantic.

Connor eventually pulled away. For several seconds he gazed down at her without speaking.

‘What?' said Nancy.

‘Just waiting to see if you wipe your mouth.'