Читать книгу Cathy Kelly 6-Book Collection: Someone Like You, What She Wants, Just Between Us, Best of Friends, Always and Forever, Past Secrets - Cathy Kelly - Страница 19

The one drawback about being one of the three members of staff who could work the switchboard was that you inevitably had to take over when the receptionist wasn’t available. And Carolyn, the girl who’d been working as the Dwyer, Dwyer & James receptionist for the past two weeks, was never available. Hannah was already regretting hiring her. Carolyn had been off sick once the previous week and today, she’d rung in at ten to nine claiming to have the flu.

‘Gillian, can you do reception today?’ Hannah had asked Gillian, who was still deeply resentful of the fact that Hannah had been brought in as office manager. Gillian had loved knowing where all the agents were and phoning them to check if they were all right. It gave her power over them.

‘I can until lunch,’ Gillian had snapped. ‘I’m on a half-day today.’

Which meant that Hannah didn’t have a chance to get on with her own work and had to spend the afternoon at the front desk, fielding calls in between trying to track down a consignment of office supplies which had gone missing.

Naturally, as soon as anybody walked in, the phones went mad. The woman standing at the reception desk didn’t look impressed by the fact that Hannah had had to answer four calls before dealing with her. The woman was quivering with impatience, but Hannah waited until she could see the red light on her switchboard go off, indicating that Donna Nelson was off the phone.

‘Donna, call for you on line one: a Mr McElhinney about the property in York Road.’

‘Thanks, Hannah.’

Swivelling in her new, very comfortable chair, Hannah finally faced the anxious-looking young woman in front of her reception desk. It was a low desk: it had to be, Hannah had explained to David James when he’d discussed refitting the office with her. ‘People need to be able to see you, not feel they’re queueing up at the post office.’

‘I do apologize for all the interruptions,’ she said in a conciliatory tone, ‘it’s been terribly busy today. Now, how can I help you?’

‘Number 73 Shandown Terrace, is it gone yet?’ the woman said, voice rising with each word, pale freckled face distraught. ‘We only realized it was for sale this instant. We’ve always loved that road and we so wanted to live there. Don’t tell me it’s sold.’

‘Hold on one moment,’ Hannah said soothingly. She scanned through her computer files and found the house. Steve Shaw, the agency’s obnoxious young agent, was handling the sale. He’d brought two people to view it but nobody had put in an offer.

‘Needs twenty thou spent on it before rats would live in it!’ Steve had snorted when he came back from his first visit to the property.

‘I’ve good news,’ Hannah said, ‘it’s still on the market. Would you like to speak to the agent who’s handling it?’

A few minutes later, Steve was sitting on the reception area’s oatmeal couch with the woman – sitting far too close to her, in Hannah’s opinion. That was Steve’s technique for selling property – invading women’s personal space and flirting with them as if they were the most beautiful creatures he’d ever set eyes on.

He’d tried it on with Hannah the moment he’d met her. Just back from his honeymoon and with a mocha Bahamian tan, he thought he was gorgeous. He thought she was gorgeous too and kept calling her that.

‘Why’d you join this company, Gorgeous, if you’re only going to break my heart?’ he’d said the first time she refused his invitation to lunch. This was only five minutes after they’d met. Even peering at him severely from behind her Reverend Mother specs hadn’t worked.

‘You’re very sexy when you glare at me like that,’ Steve had said cheekily.

He’d kept up this line of banter for the past three weeks and so far Hannah had resisted the temptation to knock him down to size. So far.

From her position behind the reception desk, she watched him put his hand on the client’s knee. Completely out of order, Hannah thought. The woman was clearly so relieved that her beloved house hadn’t been sold that she didn’t appear to notice the inappropriate gesture and beamed back at him.

It was a busy afternoon. Since David James had taken over the office, the entire place had been buzzing. Fliers about the company had been circulated around the area, two new agents had been hired, and the office itself had been redecorated one weekend. Gone were the coffee-coloured walls and the brown partitions. In their place was a facsimile of the Dawson Street branch, complete with elegant prints, discreet lighting and marvellous furniture. Hannah had been in charge of the transformation and it had been a joy. The reception desk was a curved swathe of bleached maple and the fresh flowers that sat beside the new state-of-the-art computer were replaced every three days. Even the faulty air ventilator in the ladies’ had been fixed. David James said he wanted the transformation to be very thorough.

Not a man for small talk, he nevertheless noticed every detail. He and Hannah understood each other perfectly. They had a meeting twice a week to discuss the business and Hannah found that she looked forward to these hour-long sessions. In private, David wasn’t the tough, silent type he appeared to be. When they’d finished discussing office improvements, he’d order Gillian to bring in coffee and the chocolate-chip biscuits he loved.

‘Shouldn’t be eating these,’ he’d said guiltily at their meeting that morning as he dunked his third biscuit into coffee, ‘but I love them.’

‘I thought only women were supposed to have a sweet tooth,’ Hannah teased. She’d discovered that he had a good sense of humour and enjoyed a bit of banter.

‘We can’t all be lean fighting machines like you,’ he retorted, casting an approving eye over her slim figure neatly dressed in a burgundy silk twinset and grey tailored trousers.

If anyone else had made such a remark, Hannah would have bridled in case it was a sexual innuendo. But she felt relaxed with David James. Despite their close working relationship, she never sensed even a hint of impropriety in his attitude to her. They were colleagues, nothing more.

‘If Gillian wasn’t so deeply in love with you, you wouldn’t be getting those chocolate-chip biscuits,’ Hannah said slyly.

‘She’s not!’ He looked up in horror.

Hannah couldn’t resist laughing. ‘I’m sorry, David, she does have a bit of a penchant for you.’

Not wishing to reveal too much, she clammed up.

‘You’re kidding, right?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Hannah lied. ‘Only kidding. I better go and do some work, David.’

She left the office, inwardly amused at how someone as observant as David could totally fail to see that Gillian was obsessed with him. For a brilliant man capable of detecting the slightest nuance in a business conversation, he was clueless when it came to people. Gillian looked at her fiercely when Hannah sat back at her tidy desk. Nobody resented David and Hannah’s coffee-fuelled meetings more than Gillian.

It was just before closing time when David rang Hannah from his car phone. ‘I’ve got a client coming in to see me but I’m running twenty minutes late. Tell him that and give him a cup of coffee, will you, Hannah? I hope you don’t mind staying late, but it’s important. He’s an old friend. His name’s Felix Andretti.’

How exotic, she thought, writing the name down. At six, the staff who weren’t showing houses or meeting clients packed up and left the office.

‘Staying late?’ asked Donna, passing the reception desk with Janice, one of the two new agents.

‘Not really,’ Hannah replied. ‘I’m just doing something for David.’

‘Would you like to go for a drink in McCormack’s afterwards? Myself and Janice have just decided we need a pick-me-up drink. I never normally have the time, but I can stay out a bit tonight.’

‘I’d love to but I can’t,’ Hannah said with regret. ‘I’m already going out.’

‘Never mind. Next time, OK?’

Tonight was the Egypt reunion. She, Leonie and Emma were going to Sachs Hotel for a drink, then out for dinner, and Leonie kept insisting that they were going to a nightclub afterwards.

‘I never get the chance of going clubbing,’ Leonie had said wistfully on the phone.

Hannah had grinned at the thought of the three of them dancing around their handbags but hadn’t made any promises. However, she’d brought her sexy amethyst slip dress to change into, just in case.

By half six, she had let her hair down, put on more make-up, including the glossy pink lipstick that went well with the dress, and had sprayed herself liberally with Coco. She had to leave in the next few minutes if she was to be in time to meet the girls in Sachs Hotel and she still hadn’t changed.

Damn David and his bloody client. When another five minutes had passed and there was still no sign of either of them, she grabbed her dress, stood behind the big filing cabinet so she could still see the door without being seen herself, and undressed. Luckily, she was just wrenching the dress down over her hips when she heard the big solid glass door open slowly.

Struggling to pull the dress down properly, she was about to move forward when she realized that a sexy, tight evening dress wasn’t quite the outfit in which to greet the boss’s favoured friend, so she dragged her navy nylon raincoat on and was attempting to button it when she first caught sight of Felix Andretti.

It was lucky that it was after-hours, she thought blindly, because she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to give anyone else her complete attention and stare at the vision in front of her at the same time. He was breathtaking: not dark, as his Italian name suggested, but all pale golds, like autumn leaves.

His skin was a honey shade, his hair the colour of corn, a mane of silky strands that fell over his dazzling brown eyes and that face…Handsome wasn’t the word. Wide jaw, long aristocratic nose and cheekbones you could hang your hat on. He’d have given a young Robert Redford a run for his money anytime, she thought in shock. Leonie would have died if she’d seen him. In his cream linen suit, he was as lean and rangy as any cowboy. Hannah could only stare.

‘Nice outfit,’ he said in a treacly voice, the liquid brown eyes roaming over her opened raincoat, short, short skirt and legs encased in shiny ten-deniers which miraculously hadn’t snagged during the day.

For once, Hannah’s sang-froid deserted her. She laughed nervously. ‘I’m going out and had to change. David’s late and he asked me to stay behind for you.’

‘I don’t know how to thank him,’ growled Felix.

She couldn’t quite place his accent. It wasn’t Irish or British, was it? He sounded posh, as her mother would have said. After years cleaning up after wealthy guests in the Dromartin Castle Hotel, Mrs Campbell was very anti posh people.

‘Can I get you a coffee?’ Hannah suggested, keen to get the conversation back on an even keel. This man was a friend of David’s – flirting with him was not an option.

‘Can I have something else?’ he asked, arching one golden eyebrow wickedly.

‘Er…yes, of course.’

‘I’ll have you, then.’

She blinked at him. ‘I’m not on the menu,’ she quipped, enjoying the repartee.

‘You mean, you were offering me tea?’ he asked, eyes glinting.

She glinted back. ‘Sadly, only tea. We’re out of orange juice.’

He sat on the edge of the reception desk and looked up at her with obvious interest. ‘Did David say how long he’d be?’ he asked. ‘Only…it’d suit me if he didn’t turn up at all.’

When Hannah threw back her head and laughed her deep, husky laugh, it surprised her most of all.

She, Miss Cold-as-Ice Campbell, the woman who could quell Viking invaders with one sharp glance, flirting like a lunatic with this gorgeous guy! It was unbelievable. But enjoyable.

Maybe the hunky gym manager from the hotel had opened the floodgates and let her trust the opposite sex again, Hannah thought with a rush of excitement. And why not? She’d been on her own for long enough. She deserved a man in her life.

‘I suppose it says “professional charmer” on your business card?’ Hannah smiled at him and let her cloak of buttoned-up iciness melt away. As she did so, it was as if she had physically changed. Her face relaxed, the tension left her body and her pose became her natural one, an undulating, instinctively sexy one.

‘As a matter of fact, it says “actor”,’ he replied.

‘Oh.’

‘Disappointed?’

She shook her head, letting her hair ripple gently around her shoulders. It looked good when she did that; she wanted him to notice. ‘I’ve never met an actor before. Not properly,’ she amended.

‘You mean, you met them improperly?’ He grinned.

She waved a reproving finger at him. ‘Being smart won’t get you anywhere in life.’

‘I dunno,’ he said, leaning a fraction closer to where she was standing behind the desk, ‘it’s got me pretty far up to now. Although things have definitely improved since I met you.’

‘We haven’t met,’ she said. ‘That’s what I meant about meeting actors properly. You and I haven’t been introduced, so we haven’t met properly. The others I met were never introduced either.’

‘They must have been blind not to want to be introduced to you,’ he said fervently and held out his hand in a formal manner. ‘Delighted to meet you, madam. Felix Andretti, at your service.’

She took his hand, revelling in the feel of his warm skin against hers and the excitement she felt in the pit of her stomach at his touch. ‘Hannah Campbell, delighted to meet you too.’

‘Now that we’ve got the proper bit over, can we move on to the improper bit?’ he said, dark eyes dancing. ‘So what did you mean about meeting friends? Can’t you cancel and go out with me instead?’

‘No,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘I can’t. This is special, they’re good friends and I can’t let them down.’

‘Male or female?’ he asked.

‘Female.’

‘Goodie. I’ll come along.’

‘You can’t.’

Felix pretended to think about this. ‘ “Can’t” isn’t a word I recognize.’

‘I suppose “no” isn’t a word you recognize, either,’ Hannah teased.

He grinned in assent.

The phone rang and Hannah grabbed it. It was David looking for Felix. She passed the receiver over and heard them arrange to meet somewhere else as David was still delayed.

‘I better get going,’ Hannah said sweetly.

‘Can I see you again?’ Felix asked, leaning against the desk, only a few feet away from her. She breathed in his aftershave, feeling drunk already on this heady sensation.

‘Yes. Now, bye.’

‘Do you want a lift?’ he asked.

‘I’m going to take the bus, I left my car at home.’

Felix’s smile was almost feral. ‘Let me drive you in – we can talk on the way. I want to discover everything about you.’

Hannah thought of Harry’s second letter which was burning a hole in her handbag with its pleading for her to answer his previous one. She’d got it that morning and had read it twice. Please agree to see me, it’s important.

Stuff Harry. She needed to live a little.

Swathed in a flowing cerise dress with nails and lips the same vibrant colour, Leonie sailed into Sachs’ bar and tried to look as if she wasn’t feeling self-conscious. She was out of her familiar black plumage and had left off a lot of her normal eye make-up, the combination of which made her feel as if she’d come out half-naked or with her skirt tucked up into her knickers. But none of these people would know that. To them, she had to appear confident and relaxed, a woman about to meet her two new friends and to tell them her thrilling news.

She spotted Emma almost immediately. Jammed into a corner by one of the windows, Emma was mouselike in beige office gear, sipping what had to be mineral water. That’d have to stop, Leonie decided happily as she progressed regally through the bar. She’d left her car at home so she could have a few drinks, and she’d insist Emma went home in a taxi if necessary because she was letting her hair down too. On the phone, Emma had sounded depressed even though she’d done her best to cover it up. Leonie had been convinced for many years that while alcohol couldn’t cure anything, a couple of glasses of wine made the pain fuzzier and more bearable.

‘Emma, love, how nice to see you.’

‘Leonie!’

They hugged warmly and Leonie was relieved to feel that her friend wasn’t quite as sliver-thin as she had been in Egypt. Emma would never be a candidate for Weight Watchers, but at least she’d lost that skeletal look.

‘You look amazing,’ Emma exclaimed. ‘That colour really suits you. Is the dress new?’

‘Old as the hills, nearly as old as I am,’ Leonie revealed. ‘I’ve never had the guts to wear it before, but I’m celebrating…’ She broke off and grinned. ‘Can’t tell you until Hannah gets here. We need a full coven for revelations.’

‘Thank God somebody has good news,’ Emma said, sinking back into the banquette, her body flattening against the back of the seat as if all the energy had been drained out of every muscle.

Leonie took a good look at her. Emma was naturally pale-skinned and even a week in the sweltering Egyptian sun hadn’t done anything more than give her nose and cheekbones a faint dusting of tan. But she looked paler now than Leonie would have expected. After all, they were only back three weeks. She was still quite freckly herself, an effect she helped along with liberal dustings of bronzing powder.

‘What’s up?’ she said fondly, patting Emma’s slender knee.

‘Where do I begin?’ Emma groaned, thinking of worrying over her mother and of how her father’s comments about the loan had been driving her insane with quiet frustration.

‘Not without me, you can’t spill any beans without me,’ came a voice and Hannah appeared, bringing with her several admiring glances and the waiter, who had studiously ignored the other two up till then.

Eyes glittering, Hannah sank into the seat beside Emma and attempted to wipe the enormous dirty great grin off her face. She failed.

‘You’ll never guess what’s just happened, girls!’ Her mouth quivered with excitement and she kept moistening her full bottom lip with her tongue, a nervous tic that was clearly having a terrible effect on the waiter’s equilibrium.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ he said in what sounded like a German accent, trying not to drool.

Hannah turned her glittering toffee-coloured eyes to him and breathed, ‘Yes,’ in a come-to-bed husky drawl. ‘I’ll have a martini with white lemonade, thank you.’

The waiter looked as if the words ‘martini with white lemonade’ were code for ‘Can you bring me round the back of the bar and shag me senseless,’ because he stayed gazing lovingly at Hannah for several moments before Leonie decided she needed to hear whatever exciting thing had happened to Hannah, and that she wouldn’t hear it with him hanging about with his tongue around his knees.

‘I’ll have a glass of white wine and so will you, Emma,’ she said loudly.

Emma didn’t even protest. The waiter loped off.

‘Now,’ Leonie turned on Hannah, ‘if Mel Gibson walked into your office today and asked you personally to show him a couple of love nests, I want his phone number and his vital statistics or we are never going to be friends ever again, got it?’

Hannah giggled like a naughty convent girl caught out playing hooky from Home Ec so she could have a sneaky fag. ‘It’s much, much better than Mel Gibson.’ She beamed at them and began patting her chest as if to still her beating heart.

‘What?’ said Emma, agog.

‘Yeah, what’s better than Mel Gibson?’ demanded Leonie, who’d spent a happy evening with Mel and half a bottle of Lambrusco the night before, courtesy of an old Lethal Weapon movie.

‘Felix Andretti,’ breathed Hannah.

‘Who?’ asked the other two in unison.

‘He’s an actor, the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.

Older than Brad Pitt, but with that same golden glow to him and, oh, I can’t describe him.’

‘Yes, you bloody can!’ squealed Emma in excitement. ‘The most fun I’ve had since I last met you two was pushing my trolley round Superquinn wondering whether to splurge on steak or buy special-offer pork again. I need glamour in my life, so tell me,’ she commanded, her throaty voice low and vibrating with humour.

‘OK.’

They all scooched up closer on the banquette to hear the lowdown on Felix but had to wait until the waiter dispensed their drinks with agonizing slowness.

‘Thanks,’ they said automatically, willing him to be gone.

‘Is he straight, single, or does he have a mad wife locked in the attic à la Mr Rochester?’ Leonie asked when they were alone again.

Hannah appeared to think about this. ‘You know,’ she said meditatively, ‘I don’t know and,’ she smirked, ‘I don’t care! He’s bloody gorgeous and I am seriously in lust. We are talking drop-dead gorgeous, girls.’

She took a sip of martini but barely tasted it: she was high on excitement and didn’t need alcohol for any buzz.

‘He’s half-Spanish and he’s been living in London for the past few years. He’s making a new TV series in Wick-low for the next six months and he needs a flat. He’s a friend of my boss, although I don’t know from where. I couldn’t imagine two more different people. David is buttoned-up and serious; Felix is exotic, different, a free spirit, a man who doesn’t plan life but faces everything on his own terms,’ she added dreamily, thinking of how Felix had wanted to drop his plans for the evening to take her out. Just like that. He’d been struck by the thunderbolt of attraction the same way she had.

Emma quietly thought that Felix sounded not unlike Harry, the free spirit who’d broken Hannah’s heart when his desire to be different, exotic and to face everything on his own terms meant he’d dumped her unceremoniously to travel to South America. But she said nothing. Hannah was so determined not to get hurt by a man ever again, she’d be careful: Emma was sure she would.

Leonie, meanwhile, was misty-eyed with the romance of it all. Down to earth in so many ways, she lost all sense of reason when it came to love, Emma realized.

‘What did he say in the beginning and how did he get talking to you when it was Mr James he’d come to see?’ Leonie asked breathlessly.

Hannah explained how she was changing clothes and had her skirt practically at waist-level when Felix had sashayed into her life and they all roared with raucous laughter at the thought.

‘I’d hate to see the sort of guy who’d come marching into the surgery if I was struggling out of my uniform and into a little sexy number,’ Leonie joked. ‘Probably the local vicar with his poodle, neither of whom have strong hearts. They’d both collapse.’

Emma gave her a gentle shove. ‘What are you like?’ she said. ‘You were the star of the show in Egypt. I hope you’re not going to get all negative now you’re back home.’

‘Only kidding,’ Leonie said quickly. ‘I’m in a very positive mood, honest. Now Hannah, give us more dirt on the studly Mr Andretti.’

Hannah didn’t need any more prodding. Besotted with Felix and still reeling from the heady effect of meeting him, she couldn’t stop herself from talking about him. With anyone else, she’d have maintained her usual composed demeanour, but with Leonie and Emma, well…they were real friends, not colleagues or relatives or any of the people with some ulterior motive for friendship. She could trust them, so she let herself go.

‘I thought you were off men at the moment,’ Leonie teased after another fifteen minutes of how beautiful Felix was and how stylish he looked and how he had that long-limbed grace that reminded Hannah of leopards in the wild…

Hannah bit her lip. ‘I was, but you have to take opportunities when they’re presented to you. And he’s so presentable. You’d love him, Leonie. He wanted to come here tonight, you know.’

‘You should have,’ Leonie sighed. ‘He sounds amazing. That’s probably as near to a man as I’m ever going to get – meeting your Mr Wonderful and touching his suede jacket when we shake hands.’

Hannah immediately felt sorry for wittering on and on about Felix. ‘It was only a bit of fun,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I’ll probably never see him again. I’m getting all worked up over nothing. And I did say I was concentrating on my job and not going to get involved with a bloke ever again.’

‘You can’t limit yourself when it comes to true love,’ Leonie declared. ‘You have to go with the flow when the time is right. I said you were mad to decide never to get involved with a man ever again, didn’t I, Emma?’

‘You did. But tell us your news, Leonie. She has something thrilling to tell,’ Emma added to Hannah.

‘Well,’ Leonie hesitated, ‘it’s nothing compared to Brad Pitt II.’

‘Tell us,’ hissed Hannah.

‘OK, I’ve put an advert in the personal section of the Evening Herald.’

‘Yahoo!’ yelled Hannah loudly.

‘Well done,’ said Emma in delight. ‘What did you say, when’s it going to be in the paper – or have you got any replies yet?’

‘I’ve brought the advert with me,’ Leonie said, fishing it out of her handbag. ‘It was a nightmare writing it, I can tell you. I mean, how do you describe yourself?’

‘Vivacious, funny, glamorous blonde…’ said Hannah immediately.

‘…seeks man to be good to her because she’s got a gentle soul and deserves love,’ finished Emma.

Leonie blushed. ‘You’re so sweet, both of you. I wish I’d had the pair of you to help me write it. My friend Angie from work helped or I’d never have done it.’

‘Give us a look,’ demanded Hannah.

Together, they pored over the handwritten copy of Leonie’s ad:

Statuesque bloude divorcée, early forties, loves children and animals seeks warm-hearted man with-hearted man with GSOH for friendship and maybe relationship. Box No 12933.

‘It’s going in the paper tomorrow for three days,’ she said.

‘Are you excited?’ Hannah waved the waiter over to them.

‘Scared and excited,’ Leonie admitted. ‘Half of me is totally thrilled and the other half is scared stiff.’

‘At least you’ve done it,’ Emma enthused. ‘That’s the important thing.’

‘I may as well confess,’ Leonie said, ‘I only got the nerve to actually put the ad in because of Ray, my ex-husband. I couldn’t really tell either of you on the phone because the girls were always there when you rang, but when the kids came back from America, they were all wound up because their father is getting married again. Which is great,’ she added quickly, in case they thought she still carried a torch for her ex-husband. ‘It’s just that…’

‘It made you feel as if there was something deeply wrong with you because you don’t feel you’ve moved on and he has,’ Hannah said shrewdly.

Leonie nodded. ‘Ray and I were never really meant to be, I know that and he eventually accepted it, but we went through a lot together, what with the kids and everything. It’s an important bond and I care for him. But I always thought I’d survive better than he would, to be honest.’

She remembered how, to begin with, she used to feel so guilty for separating because at least she had the kids and she’d been the one who instigated the break-up.

‘I thought he’d be lonely,’ she added ruefully. ‘Now he’s the one who’s got his life together and I haven’t.’

‘You have a great family and a job you enjoy,’ protested Hannah. ‘That’s getting your life together. Having someone to share it with is a bonus, but that’s all. I heard that by 2050 or something, thirty per cent of people will live alone. That’s normal.’

‘So says the woman who’s been lit up like a lighthouse all evening because of a glamorous Spanish actor.’

‘That’s not serious, it’s just fun,’ Hannah insisted.

‘What’s she like, this fiancée?’ asked Emma, sensing there was more to this than met the eye and knowing the deeply self-critical Leonie would care a lot if Ray’s new partner was stunning to look at.

‘A knock-out,’ Leonie said drily, confirming Emma’s hunch. ‘Mel adores her and had scores of photos of them all. She’s my age, not some bleached-blonde bimbo or anything. She’s a lawyer and the exact opposite of me: elegant and slim with short dark hair, no make-up, and she looks amazing in jeans and casual polo shirts. Classy, basically.’

‘You’re classy,’ Emma said with fierce loyalty.

‘I’m not putting myself down,’ Leonie interrupted. ‘She’s just in another league.’

‘You’re only imagining it,’ Hannah said and rapidly ordered another round of drinks.

‘I’ll show you the photos some time. She looks like the sort of girl who was probably asked to be a model when she was seventeen but turned it down to go to Harvard because she’d prefer to be earning a fortune as a brilliant lawyer instead of doing lipstick commercials.’ Leonie stared into her empty wine-glass gloomily.

‘She’s probably crap in bed, then,’ Hannah insisted. ‘The type of woman who thinks making love with the light on is the last word in perversion.’

‘Yeah,’ Emma added, ‘the sort who thinks oral sex is talking about it! There has to be a fatal flaw in her. Nobody’s perfect.’

After ages discussing exactly what could be wrong with the outwardly lovely Fliss – ranging from venereal disease to a sex-change operation transforming her from a male tennis player named Alan – the threesome finally left to hail a taxi and find a nice restaurant before the lack of food sent the wine straight to their heads. On Baggot Street, they went into a little Italian place and got through two bottles of wine with their lasagne, pizza and a wonderful carbonara that Hannah declared the best thing she’d eaten since she’d been to Italy.

‘I’ve never been to Italy,’ Leonie said dreamily. ‘I’d love to go.’

‘It’s wonderful,’ Hannah said, ‘but it’ll be a long time before I go away again. I’m completely broke after Egypt.’

‘Egypt was great,’ Leonie said.

‘It was because we met up,’ Emma pointed out, ‘but I had such wonderful plans when I was there and I haven’t followed through on any of them.’ She stared miserably at the remains of her lasagne. ‘I planned to talk to Pete about IVF and I haven’t, and my father completely humiliated me and Pete the other day and I never opened my mouth. I’m such a coward.’

‘What happened?’

‘I had some relatives over to my house for dinner for my mother’s birthday, and in the middle of it all, after I’d killed myself coming home from work early and making this special dinner, my father told some people that he had given myself and Pete deposit money.’

‘What?’ asked Hannah, not so much confused by Emma’s tipsy story as astonished by it.

‘He gave us £12,000 when we were buying our house,’ Emma said. ‘I told you about it, remember. But he didn’t really give it to us. He lent it to us, and we’re paying him back. But he told this woman – my parents’ next-door neighbour – that he had given it to us. He made it sound like loads more money, in fact,’ she added bitterly, ‘as if he’d paid for the whole house and that Pete and I weren’t grateful. That’s insulting to Pete.’

‘It’s insulting to both of you,’ said Leonie angrily.

‘No, it’s worse to Pete,’ Emma insisted. ‘He works really hard so we’ll have a nice home and food and everything, and just because we didn’t have enough saved for the house and needed a loan, my father is treating him like some layabout. That’s what makes me so angry – I didn’t say anything to defend Pete.’

And it had rankled ever since, boiling through her body like lava. She was used to being put down by Jimmy O’Brien, but she wouldn’t stand for her beloved Pete being humiliated. Yet she had stood for it. She had said nothing and had let Pete down. The rage burned through her again.

‘It’s hard to say things to your family,’ Leonie said diplomatically.

‘No it’s not,’ Hannah said quickly. ‘You’ve got to stand up to him, Emma. He’s a bully and he’ll never stop.’

Rubbing her suddenly throbbing forehead, Emma said tiredly: ‘Look, can we forget this, please? I don’t want to talk about it, I shouldn’t have brought it up.’

‘But you did,’ protested Hannah. ‘You need to talk about this and do something…’

‘OK, but not now!’ yelled Emma, startling them all. ‘I want to forget about him, right?’

Leonie clasped Emma’s hand gently. ‘All right, we’ll stop talking about it. Hannah, wink at the waiter and see if you can get us some dessert menus. I feel a zabaglione moment coming on.’

It was half two and, feeling deliciously tipsy, Emma crawled into bed beside Pete’s sleeping form and snuggled up against him. Normally, she’d never attempt to wake him if he was asleep, but she wanted to be cuddled.

‘How are ya, Em?’ he murmured, turning over sleepily and putting his arms round her.

‘Fine,’ she said, wriggling down under the duvet to hold his toasty body close to hers. ‘Did you miss me?’

‘Loads,’ he said, burying his face in the curve of her neck and planting a couple of woozy kisses on her skin. ‘Did you have a nice time?’

‘Brilliant. We had way too much to drink and I left the car at Sachs Hotel. Will you give me a lift into town tomorrow morning so I can pick it up?’

‘For you, anything,’ he said. ‘Do you know what, Em?’

‘What?’ She kissed the top of his bald head.

‘I love you, even though you stink of garlic!’

She tickled him in retaliation. ‘That’s to hide the scent of the other fella I was really out with – you know, the six foot four karate instructor. He uses this very powerful aftershave and eating garlic is the only way to throw you off the scent.’

‘I’ll kill him,’ Pete said, his voice getting sleepier. ‘Can I go to sleep now, you wild woman?’