Good at Games (8 page)

“Haddock and fries and mushy peas,” Suzy announced, jumping back into the driver's seat and lobbing two hot parcels into Leo's lap. “And I got you an orange Fanta. Is that all right?”

“Perfect. Who needs Chateauneuf-du-Pape when you can have orange Fanta?” Leo unwrapped one of the fragrant parcels and offered her a fry. “Jesus, what's
that
?” He shuddered as the sound of a thousand Irish feet began to boom through the in-car speakers.

Proudly, Suzy said, “
Riverdance
.”

Oh, that music, it was stirring her blood already! All the little hairs on the back of her neck were leaping to attention.

“At least you can't dance to this in public,” remarked Leo.

Maybe not
, Suzy thought,
but you should see me in the privacy of my own bedroom, jigging away in front of the full-length mirror.

Then again, perhaps it was just as well he couldn't.

“Is this how you normally do business?” said Leo, as they sped across the Downs.

“It's called seizing the moment.” Actually, it was called intuition. “I'm giving you first refusal on a house I think you'll really like. If we leave it until after you get back from the States, it could be too late.”

“Don't tell me,” said Leo, his tone dry. “There's someone else mad about the place and if I don't put in an offer tonight they'll snap it up.”

“Not at all. Nobody else has even seen it yet.” Reaching over, Suzy pinched another fry. “But I just think you might kick yourself if that happened.”

The corners of his mouth lifted a fraction.

“Harry told me you were a great saleswoman.”

“I have a talent for matching people up with the right properties,” Suzy told him happily. “It's my specialty. That's what makes me great.”

“Actually, this fish is pretty good.” Leo looked up, alarmed. “Good grief, what's that noise?”

She grinned. “Don't panic. Just my tragically empty stomach.”

* * *

Once they were inside the house, Suzy turned on the oven and threw her untouched parcel of haddock and fries in to keep warm. Forty minutes later, when she had given Leo the full guided tour—including the floodlit garden—she led him back to the kitchen, took the parcel out of the oven, and began to devour the contents.

With a passion.

“Sorry, I'm starving. Well? What do you think?”

“I like it. A lot. I think this could be just what I'm looking for. But,” Leo went on slowly, “you can't seriously expect me to put in an offer now. Of four hundred and eighty thousand pounds. For something I haven't even seen in daylight.”

“Come on, where's your sense of adventure?” Suzy protested. “It's even better in daylight! You won't believe the view.”

Leo watched her jump up, race across the kitchen, pull open a cupboard, and take out a bottle of Heinz tomato ketchup.

“So this is where you grew up.”

Suzy pulled a face.

“Well, that's debatable. I probably only grew up when I divorced Jaz.” She shook the bottle like a grand prix winner and dolloped sauce generously over her fries. “But this is where I lived.”

“And were you happy here?”

“Happy? Oh yes.” Suzy smiled slightly. “Despite my mother.”

Leo took another look around the ground floor while she demolished the rest of her meal. Returning, he leaned in the doorway with his hands in his pockets and watched her stuff the empty wrappers into the kitchen trash.

“I'm definitely interested, but I'd have to see it again. Properly, in daylight.”

Spoilsport.

“OK.”

“We'd better be making a move. I have to be at Heathrow by seven.”

“Right.” Suzy switched off the lights in the kitchen. “I'll take you back to your car.”

* * *

The Volvo was still there, parked in the darkened driveway of the hideous house at the top of Parry's Lane. Pulling up behind it—thankful it hadn't been stolen—Suzy jumped out to shake hands with Leo Fitzallan in true real-estate-agent fashion.

As she reached into her bag in search of a business card, a bird swooped down from one of the trees lining the drive, missing her head by inches.

“Here we are. Call me when you're back from the States. If you're still interested and the house hasn't been sold, we can fix—God, what
is
that?”

The dark shape flitted past her again, even closer this time.

“A bat,” said Leo.

“Aaargh!” Letting out a strangled scream, Suzy seized the straps of her handbag and swung it around her head. Spiders were OK, spiders she could handle, but
bats
. Ugh, they were
something
else. They had sharp little teeth and flappy, pointy wings and their mission in life was to get themselves tangled up in your hair. Ducking, panicking, and dimly aware that undignified whimpering noises were emanating from her throat, Suzy swung the bag frantically, like an Olympic hammer thrower going for gold.

Except the knack with Olympic hammer throwing is knowing when to let go. Before she could stop it happening, the leather straps had wound themselves embarrassingly around her neck and the bag—with its heavy metal clasp—made violent contact with the front of her face.

Clonk
went the clasp against her nose, and Suzy let out another shriek, this time of pain.

“Owww! My
node
! Oh
no
…”

As her hands flew up to her face, she felt the telltale warm trickle of blood. Oh, brilliant. Great. A nosebleed. Just what a girl needs when she's wearing her lucky lilac jacket and a white Donna Karan camisole top.

At least the bat had gone. With any luck she'd hit it for six into next door's garden.

God, I
knew
I hated this house.

The blood began to gather speed, the trickle turning into a flood. Reflexively, to save her clothes, Suzy flung her head right back. The blood, promptly altering course, slid down the back of her nose and throat. When she tried to breathe, the air came out in a kind of panicky bubbling snort.

She wailed, “Help, help, I'm drowning!”

It came out as “I'b drowding!”

“Here.” Leo pulled a clean white handkerchief out of his jacket pocket. Suzy jammed it—
wumph
—over her nose and mouth. Within seconds it was crimson. Her nosebleeds had always been fast and furious.

“Open by bag—ged the keys.” She pointed to her handbag on the ground, then to the house, remembering that the previous owners had left a couple of guest towels in the downstairs bathroom.

Thankfully, Leo didn't argue. Within seconds he had found the keys, unlocked the front door, and switched on the lights. Still spluttering, but desperate not to drip blood on the hall carpet, Suzy followed him in and made a lunge for the bathroom.

She blanched at the sight of herself in the mirror above the pristine white sink. Oh yes, very
Interview with the Vampire
. And despite her best efforts, there was plenty of blood on her favorite top.

Pinching the bridge of her nose hard and mopping up with one of the lime-green hand towels, she leaned against the sink. Leo, behind her in the doorway, said, “Is it broken?”

Suzy shook her head gingerly. Then, moving the towel away from her mouth, she spat a mouthful of blood into the sink.

Oh dear, elegant or what?

“No. I've always been a bit prone to nosebleeds. It'll stop in a minute.”

The owners of the house had thoughtfully left a roll of toilet paper behind as well. Tearing off a couple of sheets, Suzy rolled them up and stuffed one—even more elegantly—up each nostril. Meeting Leo's gaze in the mirror—was he making a heroic attempt not to laugh?—she explained, “Don't want to drip all over my car seats.”

Leo straightened up. “What's that noise?”

Aware that she was snuffling like a Pekingese, Suzy said, “Me, probably. Trying to breathe.”

“No, outside.”

The next moment they heard footsteps racing on the gravel. The front door, already open, was flung violently back on its hinges.

“OK, nobody move!” bawled a male voice behind them. “Put your hands up! Stay right where you are!”

As Suzy turned slowly around, the sodden toilet paper plug dropped out of her left nostril. It came to rest in her blood spattered cleavage. She saw the look of horror in the eyes of the policeman in the doorway.

“Are you all right, miss? Don't worry, you're safe now.” Whipping out a pair of handcuffs, he grabbed Leo's wrists and twisted them behind his back. “Jesus, what's he
done
to you?”

“Really, he didn't…” Suzy began as a second set of footsteps echoed in the hall.

“Better radio for an ambulance,” barked the first policeman over his shoulder.

“She doesn't need one,” Leo said calmly.

Suzy heard an astonished voice gasp, “
Leo?
”

The first policeman, his tone grim, said, “Know him, do you?”

“Quite well, actually,” said Leo.

Suzy summoned up a reassuring smile as the second policeman appeared in the doorway. Well, as reassuring as she could manage with ribbons of blood and saliva dripping from her teeth.

“Hello, Harry.”

* * *

Harry insisted on driving her home in the Rolls.

“The neighbors phoned us to report a break-in. They knew the house was empty. They heard a commotion in the front garden…”

“Bats,” said Suzy.

“Not at all. They thought it was burglars. They did absolutely the right thing.”

“I mean, there was a bat flying around my head. I panicked and tried to hit it away with my handbag. Caught my nose instead.”

“So you said.” Harry pulled up outside her house. He turned sideways in the driver's seat, his expression troubled. “What I don't understand is what you were doing there at that time in the first place. I mean, it's hardly normal, is it? Showing people around houses at eleven thirty at night?”

“You do what you have to do.” Suzy shrugged. “See an opportunity, seize an opportunity.”

Harry sniffed. “And why does it smell of fish and chips in this car?”

“Because we stopped for fish and chips on the way.” Patiently, Suzy explained, “We're putting my mother's house on the market. From what Leo was saying, I guessed he might be interested. He's off to the States in a few hours and I really wanted him to see it before he left.” She blinked, her patience beginning to slip. “Harry, please stop
looking
at me like that. When a client has that amount of money to spend on a house, you do whatever it takes to sell him one. Leo's registered with three other agencies besides ours. I'd like Curtis's to be the one he ends up doing business with. You can understand that, surely?”

“Oh yes, I can understand that. Money talks,” said Harry, “and my brother's loaded.” He paused. “So? Did he make a move?”

“A move?”

“Come on, don't look so innocent. You know what I'm talking about.”

Astonished, Suzy wailed, “Of course he didn't make a move! For heaven's sake, this was
business
.”

Harry, his voice level, replied, “And you've just told me that you'll do whatever it takes to seal a deal.”

Phew, jealous or what?

“Now you're just being ridiculous.” Suzy shook her head in disbelief.

“He's my brother,” said Harry. “I know what he's like. To be honest, I'm amazed he didn't try to take you out to dinner.”

“Well, I didn't have dinner with him.”

True,
just
. Phew again.

“Only fish and chips,” muttered Harry.

“And I paid for them.” At that moment a police car drew up behind them, its headlights beaming into the car. Grateful for the reprieve, Suzy swung herself out of the passenger seat. “Your lift's here. Thanks for driving me home. I'm sorry you think I've spent the evening doing my damnedest to seduce your brother.” She abruptly stuck out her hand. “Keys please.”

Harry looked taken aback. “Suzy, I didn't mean—”

“No, no, that's absolutely
fine
.” She could feel the muscles tensing up in her jaw. “I'm going to have a bath now. Good night.”

Domesticity had never been one of Suzy's great strengths. The next morning before work she popped next door to find Maeve, alone in the kitchen, singing to herself and energetically frying sausages and mushrooms.

Suzy hovered in the open doorway and looked helpless. “Maeve, how do I get blood out of a white top? I can't remember if I'm supposed to boil it, or cover it in salt.”

“D'you think I was born yesterday?” Maeve chided over her shoulder.

“Maeve!” Suzy broke into a huge grin. “I don't know what you mean.”

“Bring it over here and I'll deal with it later,” said Maeve, as Suzy had known she would. Dancing gleefully up behind her, she planted a kiss on the older woman's tissue-soft cheek.

“Thanks, Maeve. You're an angel. Ooh, and those sausages look fab.”

“They're not fab at all. They're not even sausages.” With an expression of disgust, Maeve gave them a prod with her steel spatula. “They're those vegetarian things. For Celeste.”

“Made with what?”

“Pfff. From the taste of them, the sawdust sweepings off the floor of the butcher's shop.”

Eyeing the sausages with reduced enthusiasm, Suzy said, “Should you be frying them like that, if they're for Celeste?”

Celeste was a low-fat person.

“Celeste is in bed, the idle baggage.” Maeve snorted. “What she doesn't know won't hurt me. Shift your big bottom, now.” Nudging Suzy out of the way, Maeve switched off the gas burner and reached for a pile of plates. “Go fetch that white top of yours, why don't you, so I can take a look at the damage.”

Like a magician, Suzy produced the bulging carrier from behind her back. With a flourish she whisked out the offending articles.

“Jesus, a bloodbath.” Maeve clucked. “The mischief you young people get up to these days, I don't know.”

The truly great thing about Maeve, Suzy thought, was her utter unshockability. You could walk into the room with a pickax sticking out of your head and Maeve would say, “Will I be getting you a couple of aspirins, love? And how about a nice cup of tea to wash them down?”

At that moment Jaz and Fee came in, having finished their early morning stint in the pool. Fee, in a vibrant turquoise tracksuit, was rubbing dry her short, straight, sensibly cut hair. Jaz, still dripping wet and barefoot, was wearing a dark blue toweling robe.

“Sixty lengths.” He greeted Suzy with a grin. Then, noticing her blood-soaked clothes: “Christ, what have you been doing? Practicing open-heart surgery on yourself?”

“Good job I didn't come here looking for sympathy.” Suzy touched the faint blue bruise on the bridge of her nose. But Maeve was taking a vast dish of kedgeree out of the oven, followed by a tray of cooked-to-perfection bacon. Unable to resist such sublime smells, she pulled out a chair and sat down. “Actually, I was with Harry's brother when it happened.”

“So Harry's got a brother, has he?” Jaz, sprawling opposite her and tipping his own chair back on its hind legs, said, “What's he like?”

Hmmm. There was a sixty-four-thousand-dollar question if ever she'd heard one. Suzy hesitated for a moment, but the urge to talk was too strong. And—for better or for worse—she'd always been honest with Jaz.

Mentally bracing herself, she said, “He seems nice.”

“
Nice?
”

“Older than Harry,” Suzy elaborated, fractionally. “By five years.”

“Go on.”

She shrugged.

“Bit taller, I suppose. Six two, six three.”

“Really. And would you say he was, by any chance…better looking?”

Jaz was giving her one of his knowing, crooked smiles, as if they all knew the only thing she really cared about was a man's looks. Which wasn't true at all, Suzy thought crossly. Looks
weren't
all-important; of course they weren't.

Just because she'd never been able to bring herself to actually go out with an ugly man…that didn't necessarily mean she was shallow, did it?

After all, you wouldn't go out and deliberately buy an ugly sofa.

Anyway, Leo wasn't better looking than Harry. Harry was beautiful. You could never in a million years call Leo beautiful.

“Actually, he's pretty ugly,” Suzy lied. “Big, dark, mean, and terrifying.”

“You mean he punched you?” Startled, Jaz nodded at her bruised nose.

“No, he did
not
.”

Over breakfast she related the events of the night before, culminating in her parting words to Harry.

“So that's it,” Suzy concluded. “I stormed into the house. He roared off in the police car.” She shrugged and forked up a mouthful of kedgeree. “Looks like it's curtains for me and Harry.”

“Well, if you ask me, it's for the best,” Jaz said comfortably.

“I didn't ask you.” Suzy glared at him.

He ignored this.

“Put it this way. If you two had a fistfight, the chances are, you'd win.”

“We aren't going to have a fistfight. As of today, I'm officially single again.”

“There's always this Leo fellow,” said Maeve, pouring out more tea. “And he has plenty of money, from the sound of things. That's not to be sneezed at.”

Suzy had a vivid mental image of Leo holding out wads of twenty-pound notes while she sneezed all over them.

“Maeve, shame on you,” Jaz chided. “Insinuating that Suzy would be interested in a man with money. Honestly, the very
idea
.”

He started to laugh. Suzy didn't even bother to reach across the table and stab him with her fork.

She knew it wasn't the money that attracted her to Leo Fitzallan.

When she had realized that Harry was great but there was something missing, preventing him from being perfect, she hadn't been able to put her finger on what it was.

She had just wished he could be a bit more…
something
.

Now, with a start, the answer came to her.

She had wished he could be a bit more…like Leo.

Eek.

* * *

“I'm sorry,” said Harry.

He was sitting behind her desk, wearing a faded denim shirt and jeans, looking penitent and smelling gorgeous. When Suzy moved toward him he stood up and held out a bunch of creamy yellow stargazer lilies from the florist around the corner.

Donna, clearly impressed, said, “He was waiting outside when I arrived to open up. Do you want me to put them in water for you?”

Suzy took the stargazers and looked at Harry.

“I wasn't expecting to see you again.”

“I know.” He looked ashamed. “I behaved like an idiot last night. Forgive me?”

“Harry—”

“Look, I'm on duty tonight, but we could have lunch,” he said eagerly, “couldn't we? Tell me what time to pick you up, and I'll take you somewhere nice. If you like, we could go to Le Gourmet.”

Oh, terrific. Meeting the maître d' again, that
would
go down well.

“I have to work through lunch today.” This was true, at least. Suzy glanced down at her feet. Water was dripping from the stems of the flowers onto her shoes. “Harry, I don't know…”

“Please,” he broke in urgently, “I don't want us to break up over this. I overreacted, that's all. I'm never jealous as a rule. It was just seeing you there with Leo.”

Donna diplomatically seized the dripping lilies. “Let me deal with these. There's a vase in the back room.”

“You have to understand,” said Harry, when Donna had disappeared. “Leo isn't the easiest person in the world to have as a brother. He does what he likes, takes what he wants, and doesn't give a damn about anyone else. He's a ruthless bastard, you know. That charm thing is just a front with Leo. The moment he has what he's after, he loses interest.”

Suzy suppressed a shiver of…what? Excitement?
Oh, help
.

“Harry, all I want to do is sell him a house.”

“You might think that now.” His tone was bitter. “But you don't know him like I do.”

“OK, maybe not. But I still think you're overreacting.” Suzy glanced at her watch. “Look, I really do have a ton of work to get through.”

“I was eighteen,” Harry went on, ignoring her, “when I fell in love with Sophia. We were crazy about each other. I asked her to marry me. We got engaged. I'd never been so happy in my life.”

He paused.

A long, significant pause.

“And?” Suzy felt obliged to ask, although it didn't take Columbo to figure out the rest.

“Leo was working in the city. Making a heap of money, driving a flashy car. He came home one weekend, met Sophia…and decided he wanted her.” Harry's expression was grim. “That was on Friday night. By Sunday morning, it was mission accomplished. Sophia told me the engagement was off. She was in love—so she
thought
—with Leo.”

Suzy felt sorry for him. It was a rotten thing to happen. But then again, these things did happen. All the time. You just had to put it down to experience, get on with your life, and not let it haunt you for the next goodness knows how many years.

“But you got over her,” she said, to encourage him.

“Oh, I got over her.” Harry looked up, his blue eyes bleak with pain. “Sophia was the one who couldn't get over Leo, when he dumped her six months later.”

Ooh,
wicked
Leo.

“Why did he dump her?”

“Who knows? Just got bored, I guess. As soon as the novelty wears off, he moves on to the next conquest. He's never been able to resist a challenge.”

“And Sophia was gutted.” Suzy wondered briefly if Harry had tried to get back together with her, and been given the cold shoulder. That would explain his enduring bitterness.

“Sophia slashed her wrists,” said Harry.

“Oh.”

“Then she overdosed a couple of times. Spent the next three months in a psychiatric unit.”

“Oh
dear
.”

Inadequate, of course, but what else could she say?

“When she came out, she got involved with a bad crowd. Within weeks she was hooked on heroin. She turned up on Leo's doorstep one night, begging him to take her back.”

“What did he do?”

“Called the police.” Harry paused. “Sophia was arrested and held overnight in the cells. The next day they let her go. She caught the Tube to Leo's apartment in Hampstead, posted a note under his door—he was at work at the time—then went back to her apartment and took heroin for the last time.”

Aware that she was clutching at straws, Suzy said hopefully, “You mean she kicked the habit?”

“No,” said Harry. “I mean she took a massive overdose and killed herself.”

* * *

As the door swung shut behind Harry, Donna emerged from the back room clutching the blue glass vase of stargazers.

“I've arranged them and arranged them. Thought I'd better stay out of the way until he'd gone.”

“Do I have to run through it again, or did you hear everything?”

“Oh, I heard it. Every word.” Donna arched her Gothic eyebrows. “I even heard the sloppy kisses.”

“They weren't sloppy,” Suzy protested. “They were lovely.”

“So anyway, you made up. Everything's all right again. I must say, he is gorgeous.”

This was high praise coming from Donna, who preferred her men long-haired and sporting Herman Munster makeup.

“I know.” Suzy tried not to sound smug.

“Mind you, I can understand why he doesn't trust you with his brother. What were you doing with him last night anyway?”

“Don't wiggle your eyebrows at me like that. Nothing sleazy.” Suzy looked offended. “Just trying to sell him a house.”

“And what's he like, this big bad Leo?”

The good thing about Donna was you could tell her anything. And, unlike Jaz, she didn't retaliate with stuff you didn't want to hear.

“What can I say? Dangerous to know, clearly.” Suzy felt her heart begin to race again, and shrugged. “Tall, dark, rolling in it…and a complete and utter bastard.”

“Oh dear,” said Donna with a grin. “Exactly your type.”

* * *

“Any luck with the Hallen guy last night?”

Martin, dropping into the office at lunchtime, found Suzy eating a Heath bar and brushing her hair.

She looked up at him. “Do you by any chance mean the Fitzallan guy?”

“Oh. I thought Fitz was his first name.” He glanced at his cell phone. “Battery's getting low. What about the place on Parry's Lane—was he up for it?”

“Hated it.” Suzy put down the half-eaten chocolate bar and reached for her own phone. “How did you get on?”

Martin looked blank. “Get on with what?”

“Dinner. Last night. To celebrate your wedding anniversary.”

“Oh, that. It was OK.”

OK? Such enthusiasm.

“Romantic?” prompted Suzy.

“Suze, get a grip.” He gave her a how-thick-are-you look. “I was with Nancy. She's my
wife
.”

Suzy gave up. She dialed Lucille's number and listened to the phone ringing at the other end.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it's me. Are we still on for tonight?”

“Oh…well, yes.” Lucille sounded pleased. “If you're sure you want to.”

“Of course I want to! We can get to know each other better. Bowling first,” said Suzy happily—she loved bowling—“then a couple of drinks, then on to a club. I'll pick you up at seven o'clock.”

Lucille hesitated. “You don't have to. I can meet you there.”

“Don't be daft; let me give you a lift! I haven't seen your apartment yet, have I?”

“Look, it's not exactly Kensington Palace. Don't expect too much.” Lucille sounded awkward.

“Are there bats flying around your living room?”

“Er, no.”