Guilty Feet (22 page)

And then I didn’t have time to analyse the strange workings of my mind anymore, because I saw him. He was just moving through the crush to get to the bar, some distance from me, and the first thing I thought was that he needed a haircut. Then I was afraid that he might see me, so I ducked behind Tim.

He’d just got our drinks—white wine for me, mineral water for himself—and he seemed keen to hit the dance floor again. He started heading that way, but I grabbed him.

‘You can’t take glasses on the floor,’ I reminded him, with a mixture of sign language and shouting over the racket going on around us. ‘Besides, I haven’t got your energy,’ I flattered him. ‘I could do with a break.’

‘Perhaps we could drive out to the country tomorrow,’ he shouted back, and I pretended not to hear.

I was moving my head to the music and I hoped he’d shut up while I kept up my surveillance on Dan. He’d ordered a pint of beer and had parked himself with his back to the bar so he could see what was going on around him. Despite the hair, he looked great, in simple white T-shirt and Levi’s. I noticed that he paid special attention to anyone wearing red, and the only good thing I could make of it all was the certain lack of enthusiasm in his expression. That might be because he hated clubs, but—and maybe I was imagining it—I thought there was more to it than that.

‘So tell me about your parents?’ Tim shouted at me, and I shook my head. I certainly wasn’t going down that particular road.

‘Another time,’ I said, though I already knew there wouldn’t be another time.

Dan glanced at his wristwatch. He wasn’t looking around so much now, and just at that moment he turned back to the bar and stared into his glass.

I don’t know what got into me, but once it did, I couldn’t resist it.

‘Oh,’ I said to Tim in sudden surprise, ‘there’s someone I know over there.’

I took hold of his free hand and dragged him after me. ‘Hello, Dan,’ I said, all bubbly and bright as I tapped him on the shoulder.

He turned quickly and the slight smile on his face turned to shock when he found me standing there instead of Sarah. We hadn’t spoken since I’d left without a word, so he was entitled to be shocked I suppose, especially since he thought I was crazy enough to break into his flat and smash his beloved CDs.

And I think that’s why I did it. If I’d been guilty, the last thing I would have been doing now would be drawing attention to myself. And I wanted him to think about that.

‘This is Tim,’ I said, gripping his hand more firmly than ever.

They nodded at one another, and, keeping up the show of bonhomie, I asked Dan if he was on his own.

‘Looks like it,’ he said, and as he spoke he seemed to search my face—looking for signs of madness, maybe. It had an effect on me. It made me feel bad. I should have been gloating, but quite suddenly I’d had enough of this little charade. And Tim, poor Tim—I’d had enough of him too.

‘Well, we’re just off,’ I said to Dan.

‘Are we?’ asked Tim, surprised.

‘I’m tired,’ I lied.

‘Nice meeting you,’ Tim said, and ever the gentleman he reached out his hand to Dan.

They shook hands, and with a quick nod at Dan I whisked Tim away.

I think he thought I wanted to be on my own with him, that I was going to invite him into the flat, but I soon persuaded him otherwise.

‘Thanks for everything,’ I told him as we pulled up outside the building, ‘but I’ve got some things I need to sort out.’ Which was pretty close to the truth.

‘What about tomorrow?’ he said, unperturbed. ‘How about that drive in the country.’

‘I’m seeing a friend for lunch,’ I said, which was also true. ‘But I’ll be in touch,’ I added, which wasn’t. Or at least not in the way he was clearly hoping.

***

Dan left the club at eleven o’clock. He’d have left a lot earlier, but after seeing Jo he’d needed another drink, and then another. He hadn’t thought much about Sarah at all. There hadn’t been room in his head for her as well. He wasn’t even pissed off with her for not turning up. Because if he hadn’t gone there to meet her he would never have seen Jo. Who’d looked so good in that dress he’d always liked so much, and who quite obviously hadn’t broken into his flat—scarf or no bloody scarf.

Why would she, when she was clearly so happy with that twerp in the suit? He’d been beginning to think that Libby might have lied about that as well, and the fact that she hadn’t was what he’d found really disappointing, not the failure of Sarah to show.

He took a taxi home, and when he opened the main door of the house he thought about calling on Aisling and Steve. They were playing loud music, lots of drum and bass, and although he’d had his fill of that at the club he would gladly have put up with more for the sake of some company.

He was at the very point of knocking at the door when he suddenly came out of his stupor. This was crazy, he told himself. What he needed now was what he always needed when things were bothering him: some
decent
music. And if there was any of that Spanish liqueur left over—well, maybe some of that too.

* * *

I’m plainly not very good at revenge—either that or it isn’t nearly so sweet as people say that it is. Because I didn’t feel very good at all about pulling that fast one on Dan. In fact, now that I’d seen him, all I could think about was how much I’d missed him, and what a fool I was for running out on him. Oh, yes, I’d had my reasons, but they seemed pretty flimsy now in the scheme of things.

And, OK, he’d been quick to condemn me for something that I hadn’t done—would never dream of doing—but I already knew how convincing Libby could be. And maybe I’d have thought the worst of him if it had been the other way round.

But it was too late now to undo anything. I had to accept that it really was over—though I didn’t want him thinking badly of Sarah as well. I made up my mind to write an apology from her for not showing up. As soon as I’d sent a message to Tim.

I know it was cowardly of me, sending an e-mail instead of calling, but I thought I could do it better that way. I therefore wrote from my business address:

Dear
Tim

I
had
a
great
evening
with
you
tonight,
but
I’m
worried
that
if I
continue
seeing
you
in
a
personal
sense
it
might
affect
our
business
relationship
.

Pretty good so far, but I needed a clincher. Something to soften the blow. I was worried that our business relationship might already be affected, and I didn’t want him pulling out of Pisus because of me. Sid would never forgive me.

Besides
which,
when
I
got
back
tonight
I
realised
that
I’m
not
ready
to
get
involved
with
someone
else
just
yet
.

I know it’s an old chestnut, that particular line, but on this occasion it just happened to be the truth.

I sent it, and then made some tea. And when I came back I wrote a quick message to Dan.

Dear Dan

Sorry I didn’t make it. I met up with my ex on my way to the station, and guess what? You were right. It wasn’t over with him at all...

I’m sure that you’ll understand.

Sarah

I hadn’t planned it in advance, but it was a sort of goodbye from her, I suppose. I was exhausted with all the deception, and I wanted no more of it. If he wrote back then I wouldn’t reply. That was it, I decided there and then. The end.

I was so intent on getting it off, so distracted by everything going on in my head, that it didn’t occur to me that I’d written it from my business address.

From Jo. Hurst@Pisus dot fricking com.

That wouldn’t sink in for another eighteen or so blessedly ignorant hours.

Chapter Seventeen

It was just after midday on Sunday and I was beginning to wonder where Dad was. I was dying to tell him that Mum was going to stay with Matt, that we were both in the clear for a month, and when the telephone rang I guessed that it must be him. I was wrong, though.

‘It’s Marco,’ said Marco, before I could speak.

‘Oh,’ I said, flustered. As far as I knew he wasn’t due back until the following day. As far as his
mother
knew he wasn’t due back till the following day... ‘Where are you calling from?’ I said anxiously.

‘The airport. Just got here and I want to see you.’

I breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment I’d thought he must have got home and found our parents in a compromising situation. Then it sank in—what he
was
saying...

‘What do you mean, you want to see me?’

‘You haven’t forgotten already, have you?’ He laughed. ‘I told you I’d ring you when I got back.’

‘Ah, yes, well—urm, when?’

‘However long it takes me to get to your place.’

‘I’m going out for lunch soon,’ I said, panicky again, hoping that I could get hold of my dad before Marco got home.

‘Can’t you cancel it?’

I could, I supposed, but, hey, why should I?

‘Sorry, Marco, can’t do that.’

A slight hesitation, then, ‘How about tonight?’ He sounded so keen that I admit I was flattered.

‘OK.’

‘We’ll make it early,’ he said. ‘I’ll pick you up at seven.’

‘Why don’t I meet you outside the Corn Exchange?’ I said, because I didn’t want him bumping into my father.

‘Fine. I’ve got something to tell you, and you can fill me in on what’s been happening while I was away.’

With a bit of judicious editing, I thought.

I put the phone down and then grabbed the telephone directory. I found Giovanna’s home number and dialled, praying that she and my father hadn’t gone out for a romantic brunch somewhere.

She picked up just when I was beginning to give up on her. There was a hint of discomfort when she realised who it was on the other end of the line, but I didn’t have time for embarrassment.

‘I’ve just had a call from Marco. He’s on his way home.’ Nothing else needed to be said, and apart from an Italian cry of alarm nothing was.

They say women dress for men, but that lunchtime I dressed for Nicola. I pulled out all the stops and made myself look as good as I could for a pub lunch, without any apparent effort involved. I wore my best jeans, which were a bit tight—but that was OK, because they had a corset effect on my slightly protruding tummy—and I topped them with a gorgeous green fluffy jumper that Matt, bless him, had sent from the States for my last birthday. I topped the ensemble with a smart black jacket, and while I was gentle on the make-up, soft on the hair gel—bearing in mind that the last time I’d seen Nic I’d stunk of food—I slightly overdid the Poison.

I was refusing to let myself think about Dan, and Sarah, and Libby, and every other damn thing that had been troubling me. I needed a break from everything and, surprise though it was, I was actually looking forward to meeting up with Nic. I’d far rather that it had been Cass, but Cass was clearly too busy to bother with me at the moment. And Nic was better than no one.

There weren’t many traditional pubs left in the area. Most had reinvented themselves as fancy eateries. Sometimes I yearned for pork scratchings instead of tapas, warm beer instead of chilled Chardonnay, and today was one of those times. There was a real fire cheerfully crackling in the grate, and Nic was beside it when I got there.

‘Fab pub,’ she said when I slipped into the seat next to her with my pint of best bitter. There was a bottle of red wine on the table that I noted was already half empty.

‘I’ve ordered for us,’ she said. ‘Roast beef for two. Extra Yorkshire pudding.’

‘Great,’ I said, wishing I’d worn more comfortably fitting trousers now. Nic was wearing sensible grey jogging pants, with room for expansion. She hadn’t even bothered with make-up, as far as I could tell, and I’ll admit I was rather concerned for her.

‘He was a twit anyway,’ she said out of the blue, and it was a moment before I realised that she was talking about her ex-fiancé.

‘He was always telling me off for “taking the Lord’s name in vain”!’ she said, doing a good impersonation of a patient but pious hospital registrar. ‘Jesus Christ! It was like being a trainee nun, going out with him.’

‘Then why did you?’ I said, smiling at her easy way with the profane, her complete lack of suitability for the marriage she had been seriously contemplating. I was happy to let her get it out of her system, because it kept my mind off my own problems. ‘Go out with him, I mean?’

She lit up a cigarette and thought about it.

‘Because he was someone my mother could boast about, I think.’ She shook her head. ‘Sad, isn’t it?’ She looked at me then, closely. ‘That’s what I always admired about you,’ she said.

‘Me?’ I said with surprise.

‘You know—actually living with someone that your mother couldn’t stand.’

I was taken aback by this.

‘I didn’t realise she
couldn’t
stand
Dan.’

Nicola shrugged. ‘Well, maybe it wasn’t as bad as that, but she definitely didn’t approve.’ She grinned at this point. ‘She thought he was, and I quote, “One of those arty-farty types who never do a serious day’s work in their lives and end up living on women.”’

I let out a sigh. ‘The trouble with both our mothers is that they don’t have much imagination. They see things in clichés, never realising for a second that they are the biggest clichés of all.’

Nicola lifted her glass as if to salute me.

‘Very profound,’ she said, ‘and the really bad thing is that I was going down the same road myself.’

‘So what happened exactly?’ I said. ‘With you and erm...’ As I said it I noticed that the crucifix and engagement ring had already been removed.

‘Clive.’ She laughed sourly. ‘Ridiculous name, isn’t it?’

Well, yes, it was. But I didn’t feel it was my place to say so.

‘I decided to come clean,’ she said, and she said it wryly. ‘I think it had something to do with our conversation the other day. I suddenly wondered why I was pretending that everything was fine when it wasn’t.’ She emptied her glass and topped it up again from the bottle. ‘So I told him what was happening between my parents and he was so shocked it was laughable. I did laugh, in fact, and that made him angry. Well, as angry as a committed Christian will let himself get...’

I didn’t say anything. I just sipped my beer while she collected her thoughts and eventually she went on.

‘Of course the irony is that they’re back together again now. He might never have known if I hadn’t blurted it out.’

‘Does that mean you’re sorry you did?’

‘Absolutely not,’ she said. ‘Any more than I’m sorry for telling the twerp to sling his hook. And at least I can smoke again now,’ she said, drawing smoke deep into her lungs as if to make up for lost time. ‘That was another thing he looked down his nose at.’

I couldn’t help feeling rather proud of Nic. Not for taking up smoking again, but for dropping all the pretence.

‘And what about your mother? Have you told her yet?’

She nodded her head wryly. ‘I told her yesterday. I was all geared for a major row and I felt quite let down when she let it pass without much comment.’

‘There’s no pleasing some people,’ I said with a grin.

Just then a waitress brought our food, and we didn’t speak for a while as we tucked into the beef with a hearty disregard for any possible BSE contamination.

She looked up at me eventually, and smiled. Her bottle of wine was nearly empty by now and her cheeks were glowing.

‘Just look at us,’ she said. ‘Anyone seeing us now would think we were the best of mates.’

I knew what she meant. It did seem odd that we were sitting there comfortably after years of mutual dislike. And all because of some silly bloke. I returned her smile and it seemed to me that she was born again
again
, this time as a normal, quite pleasant individual.

We spent the next hour reminiscing and laughing about school, and by the time we’d finished I felt as if I had a new friend.

She had a Thai massage booked at three-thirty, which was the reason for the jogging pants, I learnt. It was a regular twice-weekly event, apparently, with a genuine Thai, and she looked at me pityingly when I said I’d never even had an English massage.

‘I’ll ring you,’ she said when she’d paid the bill and gathered up her belongings. ‘We could do a club or something during the week.’

I doubted I’d be up to ‘doing a club’ in the middle of the week. I clearly didn’t have Nicola’s stamina. But I didn’t turn her down there and then. I decided that if she meant what she said and came back to me, I could persuade her to leave it till the weekend. Till I’d got my first week at Pisus over and done with.

She put a blue baseball cap on her head, and when we’d donned our jackets we went outside together and both squinted at the bright daylight.

‘Oh, yes,’ she said, doing her mind-reading party piece. ‘Good luck with Pisus and don’t forget to bear me in mind for staff.’

I told her I wouldn’t—forget, that was—and she turned to head off in the opposite direction from me. Then she stopped and turned around again.

‘By the way—you know that creature that used to be your neighbour...?’

‘Libby?’ I said, guessing whom she meant straight away. She narrowed her eyes and nodded. ‘She’s not to be trusted.’

‘I know,’ I said.

‘Good,’ said Nic. ‘I sacked her recently and the bitch has sued the firm for unfair dismissal.’

‘Was it unfair?’

She shrugged. ‘That depends if you think it’s unfair to sack someone you just don’t happen to like very much.’

‘Is she going to get anything?’

‘I was all for a fight,’ she practically snarled, ‘but my wimpy partners have decided to pay her off to the tune of ten grand.’

She made fists with her hands, shook her head furiously, and then flounced off down the road looking very much in need of a de-stressing session with her Thai masseur.

***

I left Dad to the Sunday papers while I had a lie-down in my bedroom. I was bursting with beer and roast beef and I couldn’t wait to take my jeans off. I told him about Mum’s trip to sunny California and he looked like a man who’d been relieved of a huge burden. I felt like telling him that it was only temporary, that he’d have to sort things out sooner or later, but decided it was only fair to let him enjoy the moment.

I lay on the bed in my bathrobe, thinking about Libby and her forthcoming windfall, and it made me feel angry. For someone who’d caused so much trouble, she was coming off very well in the karma department. OK, so if Aisling was right her scheming had failed as far as Dan was concerned, but she had still blackened my name with him, and the more I thought about it the more I felt as if I needed to talk to someone about it.

There was only one person I could think of.

On impulse, I snatched up the phone and asked for directory enquires. I got Aisling’s number at home, and dialled it, praying that she would be in.

She was.

‘It’s Jo,’ I said. ‘Jo Hurst.’

‘Oh,’ she said, very surprised. ‘Hi!’

‘Are you on your own?’ I asked cautiously, worried now that Dan might be there, or Steve, who might feel it his duty to report to Dan that I had rung.

‘Yes. Steve left a while ago to catch his train.’

‘Can we talk in confidence?’ I said.

‘Do you mean that I’m not to tell Dan you called?’

‘Precisely.’

‘Fine by me.’

‘Dan did think it was me who broke into his flat, didn’t he?’

‘He may have,’ Aisling said cautiously, ‘but not anymore. And you can’t blame him for thinking it because he found a scarf in his flat that he’s certain is yours.’

I was dumbfounded.

‘What sort of scarf?’

‘A Burberry.’

My Burberry. The one that I lost the other night...

‘Shit! She must have stolen it from me.’ I explained about having that drink with Libby, and Aisling did not seem surprised.

‘Well, that’s it, then,’ she said. ‘Case proven.’

I was stunned as well as dumbfounded now. I’d already known that Libby was a conniving, lying cow, but this—‘You mean you think
she
broke into Dan’s flat?’ I said to clarify things. An idea was already taking root in my head.

‘Looks like it,’ she said.

I asked her the extent of the damage to Dan’s CDs, and then I told her about the compensation that was heading Libby’s way. Aisling agreed with me that she should be made to pay up, but the question was how we could make it happen.

‘Leave it to me,’ Aisling said eventually. ‘I think I might have an idea.’