Nothing to Lose (33 page)

As well as all this, he’d been rude to Daff, and Joel and Rusty, and now April saw none of them apart from a few brief good-morning exchanges in the hallway. Jix hardly spoke on the debt-collecting rounds, and although he still waited to escort her home from the stadium, he walked on ahead, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

April, desperate for everything to be all right, was still convinced that once she and Noah moved away from the claustrophobic confines of number 51, the fragments of the roses-round-the-door, happy-families dream would all clunk neatly into place.

Noah’s introduction to Bee, though, had probably been the most disappointing of all. It had taken him a scaringly long time to accept that she was his daughter, and then he’d been more angry than enthralled. And Bee had burst into tears when he’d tried to pick her up, and since stubbornly refused all April’s attempts to get her to call him Daddy.

Noah’s early efforts at fatherhood had all seemed to involve loud and hearty hand-clapping games, which lasted less time than his lovemaking, and only increased Bee’s fear. Far from the blissful father-daughter idyll that April had imagined, Noah and Bee currently seemed to have reached a stand-off point, each ignoring the other as much as possible.

Outside the Pasta Place, the October afternoon was grey and windswept. April wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see tumbleweed rolling aimlessly along the grim pavements. It was all a world away from the perfection of Ampney Crucis – but she knew that even if she took Noah there now, he still wouldn’t see it at its best. They’d have to leave that particular treat until the spring.

‘Oi!’ Antonio suddenly leaned from the window. ‘Jix! Come in and have a cup of coffee! Warm yourself up!’

April and Sofia exchanged glances. April very much doubted if Jix would want to spend any more time than necessary with her. She spoke quickly. ‘He’s probably just going to start the money-collecting. I don’t expect he’ll have time.’

‘You not going with him then?’

April exhaled. ‘I’m supposed to be – but to be honest, it’s all getting a bit turgid now. With us not really being friends, you know.’

However, Jix appeared in the kitchen doorway, muffled in the leather jacket and several colourful long chenille scarves, and grinned at Antonio. ‘Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to say no. I’ve got tons to do, and –’ he looked across at April and withdrew the grin – ‘I wanted to talk to you.’

‘I’ll just go and put-my boots on before we start pounding the pavements and harassing people. Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to skive.’

‘We’re not debt-collecting this afternoon. I want to borrow Cair Paravel.’

April smiled. ‘Oh, great. Poor boy could do with a good run. Are we taking him to the park?’

‘We’re not taking him anywhere. I am. I’m sure you’re far too busy waiting hand and foot on bloody Picasso to spend any time with anyone else.’

‘Jix, I know you think I’ve neglected Cairey – ’

I don’t think, I know. And not only the dog, but Bee as well. What the hell are you doing, April? You were a brilliant mum, and I thought you adored Cair Paravel –’

I am! I do!’ April looked hopefully round for backup from Sofia and Antonio but they’d beaten a tactical retreat into the restaurant. ‘You know I do! It’s just that things are taking a bit of time to settle down. Noah – ’

‘Don’t mention his bloody name to me!’ Jix roared with uncharacteristic force. ‘The man is nothing but a pimp, a lowlife, a complete waste of space. I can’t stand by and watch you ruin Bee’s life or Cair Paravel’s. What you do with your own is up to you.’

‘Don’t you dare tell me how to bring up my child! Or how to look after my dog! I know you and Noah have never seen eye to eye but – ’

‘Cyclops wouldn’t have been able to see eye to eye with that slimy bastard!’ Jix looked away. ‘Now, can I have Cair Paravel for the afternoon or not?’

April put her mug down slowly, well aware that she should be defending Noah more, but simply not having the energy. She really didn’t want to fall out with Jix. The withdrawal of his friendship was bad enough. ‘Yes, of course. But if you want to take him for a run, I could collect Bee and come with you. We could all do with some fresh air.’

Jix shook his head. ‘And listen to you witter on about Noah all the time? No thanks. You’ve made your choice, and none of us seems to figure in your life much any more . . .’

‘It’s just a settling down period! Noah’s – ’

‘April, please listen to yourself. Noah’s scum, you’re behaving like an idiot – and I won’t allow you to muck up everyone else. Just fetch Cairey – I’ll wait outside.’

Glaring at him, April snatched her coat from the rack and, knowing that Sofia and Antonio were watching her with worried eyes, stomped out of the restaurant.

As she’d expected, Noah was sprawled on the sofa, channel-hopping. He didn’t look up as she came in. Leaning over, she kissed the top of his head. ‘Hi. I’m not stopping. I’m taking Cair Paravel out.’

‘Whatever. . .’

He was so gorgeous, she thought, so physically perfect. That’s what she’d fallen in love with – the outer shell of the man, and the glamour of him being an artist, and the fact that he’d taken her away from her unhappy home life. For these things she’d been prepared to overlook his occasional tempers, his laziness, and even, eventually, his unfaithfulness.

Hurrying through to the kitchen and collecting Cair Paravel’s collar and lead from the hook behind the door, she wished that Jix and Daff and everyone else could understand. She and Noah belonged together. They’d created Bee together. Once they’d moved to somewhere bigger, everything would be all right.

She came back into the living room. ‘Is Bee having a nap?’

Noah still didn’t look up from the television. ‘She’s upstairs with Daphne. I took her up just after you left. She kept grizzling for you. It was getting on my nerves.’

Counting to ten, April rattled the lead. ‘OK,I’ll go up and see her. And Cairey?’

Out in the yard. He’s too big to be cooped up in here and I don’t like the way he stares at me. The animal’s crazy.’ He propped himself up on one elbow. ‘So, now we’ve got the place to ourselves for a while – how about a little cuddle?’

‘Can’t.’ April backed away from the sofa. ‘I said, I’m taking Cair Paravel out – oh, and then I’m on early shift at the Copacabana tonight, so do you think you could get something ready for tea? And clear up a bit in here?’

But Noah was staring at the television screen again, his shoulders hunched.

Once April had dashed into the hall, clambered upstairs, and found Bee and Daff happily cutting out chorus rows of dancing ladies with their hands and feet joined together from the
Mirror,
and eating strawberry ice cream at the same time, and been assured that they’d be fine for the rest of the afternoon, she then retraced her steps, collected Cair Paravel from his exile in the yard, and met up with Jix.

‘Don’t say anything about Noah,’ she frowned at him. ‘Please. I want to come with you. I want this to be like it was before.’

Jix, who had bent down to kiss Cair Paravel, flicked his hair out of his eyes. ‘It can’t be, though, can it? Everything’s changed. It’s what you wanted. How you wanted it to be. Whether I approve or not doesn’t matter – it’s been your dream for so long . . .’ He suddenly stared up at her. ‘I suppose as long as you’re happy, it shouldn’t bother anyone else.’

‘But it does,’ April sighed. ‘It bothers all of you. You just don’t know Noah like I do . . . No, sorry. We’re not going to talk about him.’

‘Suits me.’ Jix scuffed the ground with the toe of his DM s. ‘Look, sorry I shouted. I don’t usually get riled . . . I shouldn’t shout at you.’

‘Is that an apology? OK – it’s accepted. I don’t want to fall out either. So what have you got planned?’

‘Two clues.’ Jix stood up and almost grinned.

April felt a pang of relief. It was going to be OK. If she and Jix could just be friends again, then surely everything else would be all right? ‘So, Miss Marple, what are they?’

Jix dug deeply into the pockets of the leather jacket and flourished a square of material and a set of keys under her nose. Cair Paravel, who had been entwining himself round April’s ankles, snuffling happily, seemed to twig before she did. He whined blissfully and stood on his hind legs, his front paws on Jix’s shoulders. Then he growled low in his throat, while licking his way frantically through the hair and scarves and several necklaces.

April laughed. ‘God, he’s sussed out what you mean. I obviously need more clues than he does! What the hell is going on?’

Emerging from Cair Paravel’s attentions, Jix grinned. ‘Mum’s headscarf – and the keys to my very own van. You’re not the only one who’s been salting away their tips under the bed. Yours may have been for your Picasso reunion – mine has been far more prosaic. Transport. I thought it was about time I was mobile, and Mum had such a great time when we went to Ampney Crucis that I thought we should get out more often and – ’

April hugged him. ‘You’re a star! I had no idea . . .’ She stopped, stepping back, embarrassed. She shouldn’t be hugging Jix. It was almost like being unfaithful. And she wouldn’t have had any idea about what he’d been doing, would she? For the last three weeks the world could have stopped turning and she wouldn’t have noticed. ‘And the headscarf?’

‘It’s for Cairey – or rather for the hare at Bentley’s. I’ve entered him in the four thirty this afternoon. I thought it was about time he at least got his head out of the clouds and rejoined the real world.’

April almost capered with glee on the pavement. She’d missed all this so much. Noah would have a fit if he knew – but what the hell? This was her life – hers and Jix’s and Cair Paravel’s – and it had nothing to do with Noah . . .

Jix’s van, which was parked in the Pasta Place’s lock-up, was a revelation. Having apparently previously been owned by a couple of New Agers who were now in prison after a rather excitable anti-hunt protest, it could have been custom-made for Jix. Painted purple, and liberally splashed with bright yellow daisies, it had a walnut interior and fake-fur zebra-print seat covers. There were even fluffy dice. April and Cair Paravel scrambled happily into the cosy warmth.

Bentley’s Stadium, on the Essex borders, was only a short drive away. Far smaller than Gillespies, but much more modern than Ampney Crucis, it had put itself on the map by holding very popular Tuesday afternoon meetings throughout the year. The coach park was full, and consequently, the crowd that greeted them as they piled from the van consisted mainly of pensioners, shift-workers, and done-up women looking for a spot of afternoon delight.

‘Remember you’re Beatrice-Eugenie Padgett,’ Jix reminded April in a whisper as they handed over registration documents, veterinary certificates and the fees.

‘I’ve remembered,’ April whispered back. ‘And what if I hadn’t come with you? Were you going to be Miss Bee?’

‘Too right,’ Jix simpered in a Julian Clarey falsetto. ‘They’d have just had to assume that I had hormonal troubles . . . Now, let’s get him into the kennels, go through the owner-trainer bit, and see if we need to slip the starter a tenner.’

‘Uh? Bribery? I thought he was being run fair and square?’

‘For putting the headscarf on the hare,’ Jix said. ‘They may not be as accommodating here as that Ewan geezer at Ampney Crucis was. If they turn down hard cash to dress up the bunny, you’ll just have to do your vamp bit – OK?’

April shuddered. She’d been role-playing with Noah for far too long. It would be reassuring to know that he was actually turned on by her body, in jeans and sweaters, just as much as he was by the French maid’s outfit . . . She decided not to think about it. Not now.

Being in time to watch two races before the four thirty, they settled Cair Paravel into the kennels, explained that they didn’t have a separate trainer, made sure that his handler seemed friendly, then decamped to the rails to watch the proceedings.

The crowd was huge, and although the skies were pewter and the wind cold, the atmosphere was buzzing. April bought a racecard and looked with pride at Cair Paravel’s name listed for the four thirty in trap one.

‘He’s got the red jacket,’ she said to Jix. ‘It’ll look lovely on him.’

‘Yeah, and as long as the hare is wearing a headscarf, we might just get a result. Do you want to hang on here while I go and chat up the officials?’

She nodded. ‘Actually, I think I might have a bet on the next race. Just a couple of quid. What do you fancy?’

Jix looked shocked. ‘Gambling’s a mug’s game. We’re here to win money – not chuck it away.’

‘Oooh! Now who’s gone all prim and proper? Go on – I’ll pay your stake. I’m going for Mighty Mabel in trap three.’

Jix peered at the racecard over her shoulder. He smelled of warm leather and lemon shampoo. ‘Trap six. Never Say Die. But only a two-pound bet, April. OK?’

She watched him force his way through the afternoon throng until he was swallowed up by the crowd. It was lovely to be friends again. The niggling little worries over Noah seemed so unimportant now. April grinned to herself as she headed for the trackside bookmakers. Things would all work out right in the end, she was sure of it.

The stadium lights were on, cutting through the gloom, giving the circuit the air of a Christmas market. Because it was an afternoon meeting, the hardened gamblers didn’t seem to be much in evidence, but there were still huge queues at the ranks of bookies, with everyone seemingly eager to join in the fun. Used to the shoving and elbowing at Gillespies, April wriggled her way along the bookmakers’ pitches, checking the odds on the three and six dogs at each one. Deciding that Jeff Mansell – estab. 1803 – and looking it, would be the best bet as he was offering starting prices of nine to two and five to one respectively, she put a fiver on each, and was back at the rails before Jix returned.

He pushed his way in beside her just as the greyhounds were being led behind the traps. ‘I think they thought I was running some sort of drug cartel. At one point I thought they were going to call in forensic and carry off Mum’s best scarf in a plastic bag like they do on television detective films.’