Love-40 (19 page)

Next door, Stan was pasting up
GRAND SALE
notices. ‘Good grief,' Suzi said. ‘Now they're even cutting the price of the bargains.'

‘A stunt.' Josh dismissed this with a wave of one hand. ‘Maybe you should pull a stunt of your own.'

‘Like what?' Suzi felt more gloomy then ever. She wasn't sure she was up to stunts. Stunts sounded far too exhausting.

Josh seemed thoughtful. He pulled at the short beard, peppered with strands of gold, copper and white. ‘How about doing an antiques roadshow?' he said, holding her bag so she could open the shop door. ‘That would bring the punters in.'

‘Antiques roadshow? Like on TV?' Immediately, Suzi could picture it. People from Pridehaven and beyond queuing up to have their attic secrets held, examined, valued by the experts. Queuing? Who was she kidding?

‘Yeah. Why not?'

Well, there was an obvious problem. ‘We don't have a resident expert,' she pointed out, turning the key in the lock. Estelle had learned a lot in the short time they'd been running the business – but hardly enough to be an authority.

‘Don't look at me.' He followed her inside, having to duck to avoid the dream-catcher whose feathers brushed at the top of his head. ‘I'm self-taught by a combination of Miller's Guide and the dealers on the circuit.'

Suzi didn't believe this for a minute. ‘I bet you could do it,' she said. ‘Especially if you had me and Estelle backing you up. Making tea, disappearing to look things up for you, that sort of thing.' And Estelle could surely do the jewellery and smaller pieces.

He still looked doubtful, but Suzi was fired up with the idea by now. ‘You could waffle, at least.'

His eyes widened in mock horror. ‘I thought honesty was your policy in this place.'

‘Waffle is what happens when honesty goes off at a tangent.'

They both laughed. ‘We'll have to talk about it,' he compromised, handing back her bag.

That was enough for Suzi. ‘Now, over a cup of tea?' Perhaps it was crazy, but she didn't want to see that white van driving away – not yet at least. And if a stunt like that would help save the shop, then it was her duty to get it organised pronto.

‘I've just made a pot if you're interested.' From the back of the shop, Estelle's dark red head peered around the doorway. She eyed Josh with undisguised curiosity. ‘And I hope you haven't bought any more furniture, Suzi, because we've got too much in this place already.' She sighed. ‘If only we could get rid of some of it.'

Suzi ignored Josh's raised eyebrows. So, she had lied. She'd had her reasons, but she could hardly backtrack now and say that yes, they'd love him to buy some of their stock, and that she'd only changed her mind before because she'd thought he was working with Stan and Terry, aiding and abetting them in some dastardly plan to ruin Secrets In The Attic. Never mind the cheap melodrama. He'd think she was off her trolley.

‘So this is the partner who doesn't want to sell the stock?' Josh enquired. ‘Aren't you going to introduce me?'

‘Yes, of course.' Wondering quite how she was going to wriggle out of this one, Suzi mumbled, ‘Josh Willis, Estelle Howard.' Maybe he was Estelle's type. They were both red-heads, which gave them something in common, though Josh was more wild ginger mixed with crazy carrot and Estelle smooth auburn-mahogany.

Maybe if Josh had been walking on a cliff top with Estelle, he would have pulled her close to him, run his fingers through her mass of gorgeous mahogany-red hair and kissed her hungrily on the –. Goodness. Suzi stopped her imaginary scenario right there. What was she thinking of?

She gave herself a mental shake just as another figure emerged from behind Estelle. He'd obviously been up in the flat and had come to see where Estelle had got to. Oh, dear. ‘And this is Michael,' Suzi said.

Chapter 14

The silence, as they walked down West Street towards Pride Square, could be cut, Suzi thought, with the proverbial. And it was nothing like the relaxed silence she'd experienced this morning – with another man, she thought guiltily. Other men and women carried on adulterous affairs for years without being found out. She wasn't even married, only living with a man who'd invited himself into her life and yet she was found out at the very first boot sale. Typical. Though there was nothing, she reminded herself, to find out. But where, she wondered, had the day swept off to? And what had happened to her in the process?

She was aware of Michael's angular, loping movements – beside her and yet miles from her – and it made a strange contrast to the easy rhythm of the man she'd been walking with on the cliff earlier this afternoon. It depended, she supposed, on whom you were in step with. And right now, she was not in step with Michael.

‘Michael?' She glanced across at him. The wind had brushed the fine strands of fair hair away from the bony planes of his face. His mouth was set into a tight line of suppressed anger and his brow was fixed in a frown. He was not, she realised, a happy man. Her fault.

‘So who's that guy?' he said, as they rounded the square, past the kids lounging on benches by the water fountain, smoking, drinking coke, chewing gum, talking in loud teenage vernacular on their mobiles. Sunday afternoon in Pridehaven, Suzi thought.

‘His name's Josh Willis.'

Michael glared at her. ‘I don't mean what's his name. I know his bloody name, you introduced us. I mean, who is he?' His stride lengthened and Suzi ran a few steps to keep pace. They passed the library, the town hall, the hippy and gift shops, all closed.

Who was he? Suzi sighed. ‘He might be taking some of Secrets' furniture over to Germany for us.' OK, so she wasn't telling it how it was. But how was it, exactly? It was still a business relationship. Josh Willis had not given her any sign that they could ever be anything more than friends. Why should he? And why should she even be thinking about it?

‘But who is he?' Michael swung down the path by the church that led through the graveyard and down to the riverbank. ‘How did you meet him for a start?'

Suzi followed. The flint walls of St Catherine's were in shadow, the stained glass of the window dull and lifeless. Soon, she thought, after its parishioners had consumed their tea and toast, scones and crumpets, they would venture out once more. The evening service would begin and the church would light up again – with voices, brightness and a little hope.

‘He came into the shop.' Suzi remembered her first sight of him, the business card placed on the counter, pushed towards her, the grey-green eyes, wild hair and short copper-red beard. The suggestion – heaven help her – of mutual benefit. ‘He's an antique dealer. He had a business proposition to put to us, that's all.' It sounded, even to Suzi's ears, extremely unlikely.

Sure enough … ‘A business proposition?' Michael sneered. His arm swung out at the brambles at the side of the path. A thorn snagged on the sleeve of his jacket and he pulled it roughly away, careless of any damage.

Suzi felt herself losing patience. ‘Yes – a business proposition,' she said. ‘Buying some of our furniture and selling it in Germany. Like I said.'

Michael didn't reply.

Suzi forgot about the guilt cocktail she'd been swallowing lately and felt only self-righteous anger. ‘What's the big deal?' She stopped walking, looked into his tight, angry face. What right did Michael have to suggest whatever he was suggesting, to cross-question her like this about what was
her
business – hers and Estelle's. And
her
life. She had never asked him, she reasoned, to take such a part in it.

‘He's the big deal,' Michael snapped back.

Suzi flicked open the latch of the gate and strode down the path towards the bridge. ‘So now I can't talk to anyone of the opposite sex, is that it?' she shouted back at him, the wind lifting her words, seeming to give them a hysterical edge that she had not intended. Above her the gulls swooped and soared, screaming at them, laughing like batty old women. The path was overgrown – the long grass whipped at the legs of her jeans, her feet in their trainers trampled buttercups, thrift, thistles, regardless. ‘I can't do business with men?' She laughed. ‘Hey – that's a bit restricting, you know, it cuts out fifty per cent of the population. I could be done for sexual discrimination. And all because my boyfriend's jealous to the point of paranoia.'

Michael caught up with her in an instant. He put his hand on her shoulder, and she slowed as she felt the pressure through her denim jacket. ‘What do you expect, Suzi?' he said, twisting her round to face him. ‘Some guy turns up in your shop. You don't know him from Adam. He could be … I don't know, some maniac, a stalker or something.'

Suzi hadn't thought of it like that. She realised that when she'd gone to lunch with Josh, she had not been in the least afraid, only curious. Curious and compelled – but she couldn't tell Michael that. She moved away, glancing sideways at him, resisting that pressure. ‘I knew he was OK,' she said shortly.

He dropped his hand. ‘How? ESP?'

‘I just knew.' And whatever was happening here, she would not allow Michael to question her judgement like this, to take over, as he seemed bent on doing. To dictate to her. It wasn't fair. It wasn't anything she'd ever wanted.

Suzi walked on. She could smell the dampness of the river now, feel the moisture in the earth beneath her feet, giving more easily under the weight of her body. Trusting Josh Willis was her decision – and her problem if she turned out to be mistaken, of course.

Michael's voice softened. He seemed to be pleading with her, though she didn't know for what. ‘Even if you were right,' he said, as they reached the blue bridge. ‘Even if the guy is OK, it's a bit much, Suzi.'

‘What's a bit much?' She negotiated the wooden planking, leaned over the parapet of the bridge. The river was high today, the swollen water moving fast, the long hair-line sweep of the reeds bent into worship by the force of the wind, and no ducks to be seen. Perhaps she was being unreasonable, Suzi thought. Michael was probably right. It
was
a bit much.

‘Going off with him, God knows where.' His voice had hardened again, and Suzi heard herself responding in kind.

‘We went to a car boot sale, for heaven's sake,' she muttered. ‘It was work.' And afterwards, she thought? That walk along the cliff. Was that work?

‘For the whole day?'

‘We were –'

‘Yes?'

Suzi walked on, wanting now to be at home, in the cottage, out of the firing line, she supposed. ‘I don't know … talking.'

Michael scuffed at a stone on the path with the toe of his desert boot. ‘Oh, right, talking. Yeah…' His head was down now. He looked, Suzi thought, like an overgrown child, kicking out at something he didn't understand, had no control over.

‘Michael –'

He swung round at her. ‘But you didn't tell me about him, did you – that's a bit odd, wouldn't you say? And you didn't tell me you were going to the car boot sale with him either. Never mentioned his name in fact. Come to think of it, you never leave at that time of morning to go to a bloody car boot sale. And –'

‘I didn't think it was important.' But of course it was.

They reached the gate that led to the back garden of the cottage, and Suzi opened it, relief swamping over her at the familiarity of it all, her herb kitchen garden, Hester straining at her rope, the hens restless and scrabbling for food. The sun was going down and everyone would want feeding – which would be a distraction at least, she thought.

‘Not important? Like I said, Suzi…' Michael took a deep breath, shutting the gate after him. ‘What's going on?'

*   *   *

Later, after the animals had been fed, after Suzi had spent an hour in the bath trying to soak it all away, after they'd opened a bottle of wine and she'd started preparing an omelette, she tried to tell Michael how she felt.

‘I never asked you to move in,' she said. Perhaps not the best way to start, but she had to try and be honest, she owed him that much. ‘I did say that it was only for a while.'

Michael got two plates out of the cupboard. ‘I see. So that's how it is.'

‘No…' Lightly, she touched his arm. ‘You don't see – yet. But I'm trying to explain.'

‘You want me to move out?' He looked so helpless standing there, holding two yellow plates, one in each hand, like some sort of sacrificial offering, that Suzi felt overwhelmed by tenderness.

‘No.' She'd spoken too quickly. She took the plates from him, placed them on the table, grasped his hands. They were cool to the touch, and her mind spun back to that afternoon, to the warmth that had rushed through her as Josh Willis had linked his arm into hers. Stop it. She had to stop it. The idea was ridiculous. There
was
no idea … She was just lonely and confused, wondering what had happened to herself and Michael. OK, it had never been exactly a rock-of-Gibraltar-like security, but she'd enjoyed him, he'd enjoyed her, they'd had a laugh and she'd never looked at another man. Until now, that is.

‘I'm not saying that,' she went on. ‘I'm saying that I didn't ask you to move in. We barely discussed it, you just assumed and I tried to let you know that it wasn't permanent.'

He looked confused now. ‘But I thought you wanted us to be together as much as I did.'

Oh no, Michael, she thought. I never wanted us to be together as much as you did. That much, at least, she knew. And she was sorry – but she couldn't help her own feelings. ‘I was happy with things as they were,' she told him. She was moving their hands in the rhythm of her words, as though this could emphasise their meaning, make things clear for Michael, who didn't seem to understand. ‘I like my freedom, I suppose. I wanted to see you, I liked our times together.' She took a breath. ‘But I was never looking for commitment.'