The One You Really Want (30 page)

Praise from Connor was like warm honey trickling down her spine. Basking in the sensation, Nancy watched him examine the more intricate details of the cake. She wondered if putting on perfume to bring it over to his house had been a mistake.

Then she thought maybe not as Connor put an arm round her shoulders - yes, yes! - and said, ‘You're a clever old stick, aren't you?'

The warm honey abruptly vanished.
Stick?
Clever old STICK? What kind of an endearment was
that
when it was at home?

‘Ignore him.' Sensing her alarm, Mia said consolingly, ‘It's just one of those stupid things Dad says. He called me that once. So I called him a fat old fart,' she remembered with satisfaction. ‘That soon put a stop to it.'

‘Please don't try that.' Connor turned to Nancy. ‘I'm sorry, I just meant you were clever. You don't look a bit like a stick. Anyway, we'd better be getting ready.' He nodded at Mia. ‘D'you have it?'

Mia patted her jeans jacket pockets, found what she was looking for.

Embarrassed, Nancy said hurriedly, ‘I told you, I don't want any money.'

‘It isn't money,' said Connor.

‘Oh.'

‘Here.' Mia handed Nancy a laminated card. ‘Now you're a member of the Lazy B.'

Overwhelmed, Nancy took the card. ‘You don't have to do this.'

‘Hey, wasn't I saying just the other day that you should come along to the club?' Mia, whose idea it had been, was looking delighted with herself. ‘Well, now you'll have to.'

Nancy turned the card over. Oh God. ‘You really didn't have to do
this
.' Horrified, she gazed at the photograph of herself, purportedly there for identification purposes. This one, taken almost ten years ago, showed her with over-plucked eyebrows, truly hideous perm and the startled look of someone perched in a photo booth, unsure when the flash might be about to go off. Except that she hadn't been in a photo booth, she'd been at one of Spike and Carmen's parties.

‘I asked Carmen yesterday for a picture of you,' Mia explained. ‘See? All planned.'

Nancy said wryly, ‘And to think she used to be my friend.' God, even her passport photo wasn't as awful as this.

‘You can have another one taken at the club. We'll do you a replacement card,' Connor's tone was consoling. ‘Hey, look on the bright side. At least you've improved with age.'

‘Thanks.' Nancy forced herself to smile; he probably didn't mean to imply that these days she looked passable, whereas back then she'd been a
complete
dog.

‘Anyway, I like curly perms, my aunties all used to have them.'

‘Dad.' Mia gave him a pitying shake of the head. ‘You aren't doing yourself any favours, you know.'

‘Aren't I?' Connor turned to Nancy. ‘
Aren't
I? Am I getting it horribly wrong?'

‘Now you happen to mention it,' said Nancy, ‘yes.'

‘Bugger, I've lost my blarney.' He clutched his forehead, looked tortured. ‘I'm sorry. I don't know where it's got to.'

‘Try looking down the back of your sofa,' Nancy suggested. ‘When we lose anything, that's where it usually turns up.' Readying herself to leave she said, ‘Anyway, thanks for the membership. Maybe I'll give the club a try over the weekend.'

‘Come with us tonight,' Mia exclaimed. ‘We'll be leaving here in half an hour. I can give you the guided tour, introduce you to people. And you'll see Pam getting her cake. Fancy that?'

Nancy hesitated, glanced at Connor to see his reaction.

‘Of course you must come with us.' Connor clutched her arm. ‘That's a great idea. Why didn't I think of it?'

‘Probably because you're losing your marbles along with your blarney.' Mia flashed him a sunny smile. ‘I'll be having to put you in a home soon.'

‘How about it then, Nancy, are you free?' said Connor.

Nancy was having trouble concentrating; the electrical currents were still zip-zapping excitedly up and down her arm. Gathering herself, she said, ‘I'm free.'

‘Great.' Connor looked pleased.

Mia winked at her and Nancy blushed, suspecting that she and Connor had both just been expertly set up. Mia was clearly a girl with a plan.

 

It was ten o'clock and the bar at the Lazy B was bursting at the seams, Pam was still having her photograph taken with her much-admired cake and Nancy had met practically everyone who worked at the club. She had also been glared at from a distance by Sadie Sylvester, who evidently didn't trust her an inch and suspected her - heavens above,
surely
not! - of having her sights set minxily on Connor.

‘Just ignore her,' Mia had breezily remarked. ‘I do. Every so often I just ask people to pull the knives out of my back.'

Which wasn't as comforting as it might have been, given the killer looks Sadie was shooting them across the room.

Rejoining Nancy now, Mia said, ‘Pam's shattered, I'm just going to call a cab for her. Have you seen Dad?'

‘One of the members lost their locker key. He went to find the master,' said Nancy.

‘I haven't even had time to show you around the rest of the club.' Mia knocked back her glass of orange juice and checked her watch. ‘I had no idea there were going to be so many people here. So, you and Dad getting on OK?'

There was that knowing look again. Honestly, did Mia have any idea how embarrassing it was to be in this situation, set up by a meddling sixteen-year-old?

‘I'm having a nice time. And you don't have to show me around,' said Nancy because Mia was clearly busy. ‘I can do that any time.' Glancing down at her shoes she added, ‘Maybe when I'm wearing something more appropriate.'

Mia disappeared to call the taxi firm and Nancy sipped her drink, shifting from one pencil-thin high heel to the other. Her feet were starting to hurt now. Four-inch stilettos wouldn't have been the ideal choice for exploring a fitness centre anyway. Sitting down and giving her aching feet a rest would be nice but a quick scan of the room revealed only one free seat and that was too close to Sadie Sylvester for comfort.

Determined not to look but sensing that Sadie's narrowed gaze was trained upon her like a sniper's rifle, Nancy headed in the direction of the bar instead. Within seconds, she smelled the overpoweringly heavy scent Sadie wore.

‘I know exactly what you're up to,' Sadie announced. ‘Getting all friendly with Mia. Offering to make cakes for Connor. Wheedling your way into his life, making yourself—'

‘Actually,' Nancy turned to face her, ‘I didn't offer to make the cake. Connor asked me to.'

‘And now you're here, at Pam's leaving party. My God, talk about infiltration.' Sadie shook her head in mock admiration. ‘
And
I hear you're joining the club. Don't you worry that you might be making a bit of a fool of yourself?'

Cruel accusations were always painful to hear, Nancy discovered, particularly when there was more than a smidgen of truth in them.

Aloud she said, ‘I don't know what you mean,' and saw Sadie's glossy red mouth curl with disdain.

‘Oh, come on. Your husband had an affair, am I right? He's found someone else and you're desperate to do the same. My God, I bet you couldn't believe your luck when you found out you had Connor living next door to you. I mean, I'm not saying I
blame
you - let's face it, he's quite a catch - but there's such a thing as being too obvious.'

Oh hell, did it really show that much? Her heart thumping unpleasantly, Nancy said, ‘Connor's just a friend.'

‘Of course he is. As far as
he's
concerned,' Sadie drawled. ‘The trouble is, your marriage hit the rocks and your confidence has taken a battering. So when a man comes along and starts being nice to you, you get all over-excited and think it's because he's romantically interested. Whereas in reality, that's just Connor's way. It means
nothing
,' she emphasised, her eyes glittering with a mixture of pity and triumph. ‘So don't be fooled into thinking you're special, because you aren't.'

The gym was more or less deserted; almost everyone had by this time given up exercising and gravitated towards the party downstairs. Nancy, clutching her impractical shoes, padded barefoot past the darkened aerobics studio - where she
wouldn't
be joining the classes run by Sulphuric Sadie - and began investigating the fitness equipment.

One of the rowing machines was occupied by a fit-looking student type with a Walkman clamped to his ears. Envious of his tanned legs, but not of those scarily bulging calf muscles, Nancy made her way over to the running machines and cross-trainers. A middle-aged woman with a huge bosom bouncing up and down inside a baggy pink T-shirt was puffing and panting her way up some kind of never-ending ladder.

‘It's a Stairmaster,' she said breathlessly, greeting Nancy with a cheerful smile and sensing her bemusement. ‘Ghastly, of course, but does wonders for your bum. It's like climbing mountains without the worry of slipping into a ravine and having to be hoisted out by Mountain Rescue. Thinking of joining the club, then?'

‘Well, yes.' It was such a relief to talk to someone friendly again. ‘I mean, I already have.'

‘Oh, you'll love it. Jolly nice shoes, by the way.' Using a white towel to mop her perspiring face, the woman nodded at the stilettos Nancy was cradling like kittens. ‘This is a great place. I was always joining gyms then giving up on them, but here's different. Have you met Connor yet?'

‘Um . . . yes. Actually, he's my next-door neighbour.' Nancy prayed she wouldn't blush.

‘Is he really? I say, lucky old you!' The woman beamed, her legs still pumping away. ‘All I've got next door is a neurotic music teacher and her five yowling cats. Connor's a gem, isn't he? Half the women who come here are in love with him - whew, that's it, time's up!' Heaving a noisy sigh of satisfaction, she hit the Stop button and jumped down from the Stairmaster. ‘Fifteen minutes, that's my lot. Now I can go and have a lovely glass of wine as a reward. Maybe see you in the bar,' she said happily as she headed off for a shower. ‘In case you don't recognise me with my clothes on, I'll be the one with the wonderfully toned bum.'

Nancy spent some time wandering around, investigating the mysteries of the various scary-looking machines. There was a row of exercise bikes that had computer games connected to them, requiring pedal power in order to function. There was a climbing wall with sticky-out hand and footholds that she could only too easily envisage herself falling off. The weight-lifting equipment was scary. A punchbag looked fun. There were hundreds of photographs pinned up around the walls depicting club members in a variety of poses. Smiling, Nancy spotted a jaunty photo of the woman she had just been talking to, labelled ‘Magnificent Mags collects the Krispy Kreme Doughnut award for most enthusiastic exerciser of the week. Sadly, Mags won't be winning it again as she didn't offer prize-giver Connor O'Shea a single doughnut'.

There really weren't that many fitness clubs like the Lazy B. Nancy, thinking that she might like it here after all, wondered if Mags had a bit of a secret crush on Connor herself . . . Now, where did that corridor lead to, past the glass-fronted dance studio and off to the left?

The corridor led to the back stairs. A spiral staircase winding down to the ground floor would take her back to the party. Still clutching her shoes, Nancy began to descend the staircase, pausing only when she heard a voice she recognised.

Then a second voice.

She was almost directly above Connor's office, Nancy realised, glancing out of the window and getting her bearings. And the door to the office was open, enabling her to overhear every word of Connor's conversation with Mia.

‘. . . you just can't go around ordering people to do things because
you
want them to happen.' Connor was sounding exasperated.

‘I'm not ordering you, I'm just helpfully suggesting you invite her out to dinner,' Mia wheedled. ‘Come on, Dad, I know she'd say yes. You'd have a great time.'

Three-quarters of the way up the spiral staircase, Nancy froze. A waft of smoke drifted up the stairwell, indicating that Connor had just lit a cigarette.

‘Mia, give this a rest, will you? It isn't going to happen. Nancy's a nice person, I like her as a friend, but that's as far as it goes. For one thing, she's only just separated from her husband. And even if I
did
fancy her rotten, I wouldn't get involved because women in that situation are just too . . . vulnerable. It wouldn't be fair on Nancy, or on me.'

Nancy was barely able to hear him now; the buzzing in her ears was so loud she felt as if she'd been dragged underwater. What if she fainted and toppled down the staircase, landing in a heap outside Connor's office? Oh God, how was she going to get out of here without stumbling on the stairs?

‘You don't fancy her at all?' Mia sounded accusing. ‘I thought you
did
.'

‘And you're only sixteen,' Connor retaliated, ‘which just goes to show how much you know. Listen, Nancy's self-confidence has taken a knock. If I can make her feel that little bit better about herself, I will. But it doesn't
mean
anything. Basically, there are some girls you fancy and some you don't, and nothing anyone can do will change that. I'm not interested in Nancy, OK? She's not my type and she's never going to be my type, so can we please close this conversation and head on back to the party?'