All That Mullarkey (33 page)

‘On the way here I was pulled over by the police.’

She let her head tip to one side. ‘That can’t be anything to do with malicious person unknown, can it?’

‘It can if the police have had information that I’m ferrying drugs.’ He tipped Shona slowly off his shoulders and caught her upside down, her rich giggles pouring out like bubbles.

Cleo slowly shook her head. ‘They’re getting cleverer, aren’t they?’

‘’Fraid so. Now I’ve got five days to produce my documents at a police station. Just another hassle. I thought once I’d let my flat I’d be able to see an end to it. But if they’ve got hold of my car registration it gives them another avenue of attack.’

Cleo moved back into the room. ‘Can you change your car?’

He turned Shona up the right way, brought her red, giggling face up to his and kissed her little bobble nose. ‘What’s the point? They’d only get the new registration the same way they got this, wouldn’t they?’

‘Poor old Justin.’ Liza got herself comfortable on the bench seat of the pub and held out a foot to admire her new red ankle boots that were decorated with pompoms and went beautifully with her new black lacy tights. Apart from her white therapy tunic workwear, Liza never wore anything plain or boring, if she could help it. ‘And he normally seems one of the most difficult-to-worry people.’

Cleo checked that her phone would pick up a signal. ‘I don’t know if he’s worried, exactly, more fed up. The phone calls at all hours of the night were bad enough, and meals and taxis turning up. But the fight at the club was just plain frightening. He could have been knifed or anything. Then the scumbags had the cheek to send an anonymous letter about it to his employer.’

Liza frowned. ‘Can’t the police do anything?’

‘No evidence. The people he’s certain are behind it all have got damned good at it. Very inventive. Now he’s changed his phone number, alerted all the takeaways and arranged to let the flat, they’ve started on his car.’

‘Gruesome. I haven’t seen him at Muggie’s for the last couple of weeks, either. Shall we open the crisps? So what about Gav? Seen him lately?’

Cleo gazed into her crisps. There were so few in a bag these days it was a wonder anyone ever got fat on them. ‘I met him for lunch this week.’

Liza snorted. ‘What on earth
for
?’

Cleo shrugged defensively. ‘Because he asked me. Because he seems a bit lost and I felt sorry for him. You know that I always felt guilty about him.’

‘What on earth did you talk about?’

‘We sometimes talk about Keith and Ian, Dora and Rhianne. He says things like, “We used to do everything together, three couples, and now we’ve all broken up. Who’d have thought it?” And he usually can’t resist having a dig at Justin.’

Liza balled up her crisp bag and delicately sucked her fingers, one at a time. Her nail art featured dominoes today. ‘Have you told him about Clive?’

‘Sure, but it seems to pass him by. It’s definitely Justin he’s got the hate for.’

Liza raised her fair eyebrows. ‘And when do I get to give Clive my seal of approval, by the way?’

‘You don’t need to, he’s nice. Kind and gentle.’ Somehow it didn’t sound like a commendation.

‘I’d like you to be happy with someone again, Cleo. Like I am with my fabulous Adam. Do you ever wonder if you’d met Justin after breaking up with Gav, whether you’d have got it together? Then you’d be sitting here boring me about how lovely and kind he is?’

Cleo considered. ‘He’s not always lovely or kind. But mostly.’

‘Was Gav?’

‘I would’ve thought so, once, but he hid a lot, didn’t he? Infertility. Suspected clap. Infidelity. Not lovely or kind.’

Cleo let herself into the quiet house. From the sofa, Justin looked up from his book and waved half a pack of biscuits. ‘I pinched your biscuits.’

She dropped down beside him, kicked off her shoes and snaffled two. ‘You unerringly discover the chocolate digestives.’

He took another. ‘I know where you hide them, at the back of the top shelf. At least I didn’t pinch the Hobnobs.’

She laughed. ‘I’ll have to think of somewhere new.’

‘Waste of time, I’ll find them.’ He twisted the top of the biscuit packet over. ‘Looking forward to moving into your new house?’

She beamed. ‘Absolutely! It’ll be difficult, though. The bank wouldn’t give me as much as I wanted and the bills are endless. Surveyor, solicitor, you name it. It’s a good job Patrick is leaving the carpets because I won’t be able to afford any for about two years. I’ve got my bed and Shona’s cot, and that’s about it. We’ll have to camp until my Christmas bonus. If business has been good enough for Nathan to pay one.’

‘I’ll lend you a deckchair.’ He stretched, hunting around for his shoes, jacket and keys, dropped a careless peck on her hair and let himself out with an equally careless ‘’Bye!’

She sat on after the sound of his car had faded, staring into the fire and thinking about how these cottage suites might not be very comfortable with their wooden arms but they were, at least, something to sit on. If she didn’t get that Christmas bonus, she’d be reduced to furnishing her sitting room with beanbags.

And, with Patrick eager to sell and Cleo eager to buy, the conveyancing formalities swept Cleo through the next couple of weeks. So it was no wonder that her mind was only half on her work when she answered the phone on her desk.

‘Hello, stranger!’ Clive’s voice was light, teasing.

Cleo adjusted the phone between her shoulder and head. ‘It’s only two days since I saw you, Clive. And … ah. I was supposed to phone you last night.’ With her free hand she used the mouse to try various colours on a chart she was creating for a seminar introduction.

He chuckled understandingly. ‘I expect your head was in packing boxes and your mind setting out the furniture in your new house.’

‘Half right. Unfortunately, setting out my furniture isn’t going to be a long job.’

‘So, is the packing finished?’

She sighed. ‘’Fraid not. It’s not very easy with Shona around and she doesn’t seem to want to go to bed at the moment. I can’t believe how much stuff there is of hers alone. But tonight Liza’s coming over to entertain her and I might make progress.’

His turn to sigh. ‘So you’re not coming out? Any chance of a nice long, late-night phone call?’

‘Um …’ Actually, she craved the pleasure of flaking out after yet another evening sorting possessions into supermarket boxes on top of all her other evening chores. Once Clive began to tell her about what editors had said about his latest zombie mash-up, she could be on the phone for an hour.

‘So how about tomorrow night?’

She tried to make her voice matter-of-fact rather than apologetic. ‘Justin’s coming to see Shona, so I should just about get finished with the packing. But completion’s on Monday and my tenancy is officially up, so getting ready to move is my priority.’

His voice went flat. ‘OK, I get the picture. You’re busy. Moving house, looking after your daughter. And your daughter’s father to play Happy Families with. The only good thing about going out with you, Cleo, is that I get a lot of stories written because we never actually go out.’

‘We could do something on Sunday,’ she suggested guiltily. ‘If you don’t mind the house being like a tip, I’ll cook you dinner –’

‘Brilliant!’ He agreed so quickly and sounded so pleased that she realised with a sinking feeling, as she replaced the phone, that he thought he might get lucky.

She glanced at the clock in the corner of her computer screen. And then again, in amazement. Good God! How did it get to twelve fifteen? Now she’d be late to meet Gav. Again.

Struggling into her coat, cantering down the stairs rather than hanging on for the lift, scurrying along the pavement, weaving through halted cars, hopping on and off traffic islands.

The pub was on a corner. Tall, white, bay windows jutting into the street: a favourite office-worker lunch venue.

Bowling through the door, she found Gav tucking away his mobile phone. ‘Phew!’ she laughed. ‘I thought I might have missed you.’

He didn’t answer her smile. ‘I was just ringing your office.’ He looked pointedly at his watch. She recognised his expression. Gav was sulking at her bad timekeeping and was waiting to be won round.

She shrugged out of her coat and plonked herself in a chair, swooping on the menu. She called to the barman, ‘Could I have a stilton and bacon ciabatta, please? I’m a bit short of time.’

Gav waited until the barman had taken the order. ‘I can’t bear the smell of stilton.’

Absently, she nodded. In fact, she realised, she’d ordered it specifically to annoy him. Liza was right – she shouldn’t let him hang about like a stale smell. Their marriage was well and truly over and there was no point in swapping news over a toasted sandwich and a glass of wine as if they were a couple. They no longer were. End of.

But she put off telling him, because she didn’t want to think of him being hurt. Crazy how it was so easy to postpone something so important.

‘So,’ he said glumly. ‘What’s new?’

‘I had a lovely day out with Clive and Shona at the weekend. A nice lunch and then a long walk along the embankment in Bedford, watching the canoeists bobbing about.’

He grunted. ‘I thought you said it wasn’t serious?’

She examined her ring finger, now bare. ‘We don’t need to be serious to have lunch and a walk.’

‘Anything more interesting?’

‘My packing’s driving me mad. Liza’s entertaining Shona tonight and Justin’s doing the same tomorrow, so I really ought to get finished.’

His expression set. ‘How very accommodating of Justin
.
I don’t suppose you’re ever going to be free of him, now. You’ve let him get too fond of the girl.’

Anger flickered through her. ‘“
The girl
” – you mean my daughter, Shona? Justin’s daughter? You think I ought to have deprived Shona of her father?’

He shrugged. His bacon and mushroom baguette arrived and he snatched it up to bite into it as if it had done him a personal injury.

He’d always been a bad loser, even at Pictionary or Monopoly. Now, of course, Cleo didn’t have to put up with it. She could even antagonise him. ‘Did I mention?’ Her voice sounded unnaturally clear and high. ‘We discussed moving in together, me and Justin? Just on a house-share basis. That way Shona would have both her parents –’

Bang
! Gav’s fist crashed down on the wooden table so hard that the whole bar paused.

Cleo froze, her food halfway to her mouth.

With eyes of stone he hissed, ‘You’re never going to share a house with that bastard if I’ve got anything to do with it.’

The following silence seemed even louder than the crashing of his fist.

Steadily, she reached for her coat, tucking her bag and her lunch under her arm. ‘But you haven’t got anything to do with it.’

She was angry all the way back to the office. Then he sent a text of a sad face and she began to feel sorry for him all over again ...

But then she received a call from her garage to say that her car had failed its MOT and she felt sorrier for herself.

Chapter Forty

It was a pain, having to drive back into Peterborough after picking Shona up from Dora’s. But good old Dora had made Shona a soft cheese roll to keep her going while Cleo took care of her bit of business. Business that had to be broached this evening, now, before she lost her bottle.

She found the road, keyed his flat number into the security thingy, waited for the tinned sound of his voice, then pushed in through the door and trod upstairs at Shona’s pace. He was waiting for them at his front door.

‘Jussin!’ squealed Shona, letting go of Cleo’s hand and launching into her bouncing run.

‘This is handy,’ he grinned, swooping her up. ‘I’ve just bought some biscuits.’

Cleo had to wait for Shona to get over the excitement of seeing Justin, being somewhere new and having a biscuit in each hand. Sitting on his sofa, Cleo tried not to be mega-aware of the door to his bedroom. Shona finally settled in front of the big television with her favourite satellite channel,
Nick Junior
, and Justin plumped down beside Cleo.

‘It was a pleasant surprise when I heard your voice. I was sure it’d be another delivery or taxi.’

‘Bob!’ Shona shouted, launching herself to her feet to point at the television.

‘Bob the Builder,’ Cleo agreed. ‘Your favourite.’ Shona sank back down to the carpet.

Justin still looked tired, strained. The tiny lines that ran away from his startling eyes seemed more deeply grooved. When he flashed a grin, she could see how those lines had formed over the course of a hundred thousand smiles.

Right, deep breath. Say it. ‘I have a proposition for you. I mean a proposal,’ she amended quickly to try and forestall the clever-clever remark she saw coming.

Obviously a failure, as he replied, ‘I’ll say yes to either.’

She tried to frown him down. His eyes shone with silent laughter.

She cleared her throat. ‘Right. The thing is … do you remember saying …’ Why was she making such heavy weather of this? She who’d been specifically trained to be articulate, cogent, concise, to get up in front of any amount of people and engage and maintain their attention? She metaphorically squared her shoulders.