Good at Games (29 page)

Lucille had missed her vocation, Suzy discovered the next morning. She should have been in the Special Air Service.

It was six thirty, still pitch-black outside, and Lucille's bedroom was empty. Her belongings, neatly packed and ready to go, were stacked by the door. There was no sign of Lucille, which Suzy frankly found hard to believe. Having spent most of the night tossing and turning on the sofa, too guilty to sleep, she had deliberately waited until now to say sorry because waking up Lucille at some totally unearthly hour would really be rubbing salt into the wound.

Except Lucille had already crept out, as silent as a ghost, at the crack of goodness knows when.

More
silent than a ghost, in fact, because didn't ghosts normally flap their white sheets and go
WOO-HOO
?

It was annoying, plucking up this much courage to apologize to an empty bedroom.

Luckily, Lucille's dog-walking timetable was still there in the kitchen, pinned up on the corkboard.

Outside it was bucketing down with rain. Suzy, making a dash to the car twenty minutes later, reflected that this was definitely the downside to owning dogs. No matter how diabolical the weather, they still wanted to be out in it. Like small children, they just didn't care. As far as dogs were concerned, a torrential downpour just added to the fun.

The Downs were pretty much deserted. It didn't take long for Suzy to spot Lucille jogging along Julian Road toward her with a sopping wet Afghan hound bounding joyfully at her side.

Buzzing down the window, Suzy stuck her head out of the car and yelled, “Luce, it's me. I'm sorry. I can't believe I was so horrible last ni—”

Lucille, her unsmiling face illuminated by the car's headlights and her eyes pointedly
not
making contact with Suzy's, jogged straight past her.

Suzy swiveled around in her seat, her mouth dropping open.

You aren't supposed to do that.

Wrenching open the door, she jumped out onto the pavement, but Lucille—with the dog in tow—was now sprinting toward the Downs. Suzy knew she'd never catch up to them.

Not on foot, anyway.

Oh well, in for a penny.
Leaping back into the car, Suzy executed a swift three-point turn. Accelerating to the end of Julian Road, she crossed Rockleaze—
no cars coming, phew
—drove up onto the grass, and set off across the Downs in pursuit of Lucille.

Highly illegal, of course. If the police caught her, she'd be ticketed for sure. But at least this way there was no escape for Lucille.

* * *

Suzy caught up with them in no time at all.

“Go away,” shouted Lucille as she pulled alongside them.

“I want to say sorry.”

“Well, I don't want to hear it. I don't want to see you.”

“Please,” Suzy begged, “I feel terrible. At least listen to me.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“Give me one good reason why I should.”

“Because I'm an idiot.”

“Huh,” said Lucille, “I already knew that.”

She veered abruptly away from the car and Suzy slammed on the brakes. Clearly, different tactics were called for.

Bribery…blackmail…abduction…? Yep, they'd do.

Rummaging through the glove compartment, Suzy found the family-size bag of M&Ms she'd stashed away for emergencies, and tore the packet open. Pushing open the driver's door, she rattled the bag of chips into her upturned palm. Fifty feet away, the Afghan hound's ears pricked up.

“Here, boy. Over here. Yum,
chips
,” Suzy called out.

Lucille, who had only just let the dog off his leash, said firmly, “Carter, sit.
Stay.
”

Carter hesitated, hopelessly torn. He knew and liked Lucille, but she couldn't seriously expect to compete with the prospect of chips. “Carter, come on, boy. See what I've got,” Suzy wheedled, rattling the chip bag seductively.

Carter looked like a girl caught in a downpour with her boring boyfriend, being offered a lift home by a charmer in a Ferrari. The next moment, he was bounding across the grass toward Suzy, with his pink tongue lolling and his plumy tail wagging like a metronome.

“
No!
” Lucille shouted, chasing after him.

Yesss
, thought Suzy triumphantly, bundling him into the passenger seat and feeding him a big handful of chips.

By the time Lucille reached the car, Suzy had hit the central-locking buttons.

“You can't do this,” she warned Suzy through the open driver's window.

“Too late. Just have.”

Lucille's hands were on her hips. Her face was expressionless. “I suppose you think you're clever.”

“I do, quite,” said Suzy.

“This is kidnapping.”

“I know. Good, isn't it?” Suzy risked a smile that wasn't returned. “Oh please, Luce, I've got the dog. You have to listen to me now.”

“As far as I'm concerned,” Lucille said coldly, “you've already said more than enough.”

Realizing she couldn't do this through a car window, Suzy unlocked the doors, leaped out, and promptly locked them again. The icy rain hit her in the face like a wet haddock.

“Right, here we go,” she announced. “I acted like a ten-year-old yesterday and I'm
totally
, totally ashamed of myself. Seeing all my mum's stuff again had a horrible effect on me. I'm sorry I said what I did. I never meant any of it. And I couldn't bear it if you moved out. I know we're still a bit new to each other, but you're my sister and I love you. And I'm really really really sorry I'm such an enormous idiot.”

“Well, you're definitely one of those,” said Lucille. Shivering, she pushed her hands deep into the pockets of her unglamorous waterproof jacket.

“Blanche spent her life lying to us.” Suzy struggled to explain. “She didn't lie to you. Yesterday when I was clearing out her things, I just felt…stupid, I suppose. Like one of those women who finds out her husband's been having a torrid affair for the last twenty years.”

There was a long pause.

Finally, Lucille said, “I can understand that.” Slowly, she added, “But it wasn't my fault.”

Encouraged by this, Suzy said eagerly, “I know, I know it wasn't! I got myself into a state, that's all. Honestly, I could have cut out my tongue when I realized how—”

“And I'm not after your ex-husband.”

“I know that too. I never for one minute thought you were,” cried Suzy, blinking the rain out of her eyes and realizing that she was wearing hopelessly inappropriate clothes. Her navy wool sweater was drenched and itching unbearably, and her jeans were sodden. She'd be more comfortable stripping down to her bra and panties, except Lucille thought she was quite mad enough already.

“Are you crying?” demanded Lucille.

“What? Me? Of course not!”

Suzy hastily wiped her face before Lucille could do a random testing for saltiness.

“You are.”

“Don't be daft. I never cry. You're crying.” She pointed an accusing finger at Lucille.

Lucille managed a wobbly half smile.

“No I'm not. Do you really love me?”

Unable to speak, Suzy pressed her lips together and nodded.

“So was that one of those sister-sister arguments you warned me about?”

“Kind of. It's one of those sister-sister arguments you get when one of the sisters is a total crazy.”

“That's you,” Lucille double-checked. “Not me.”

“Oh yes. Definitely me.”

Suzy gave her a hug, and Lucille hugged her back.

“If anyone's watching us now”—Suzy's voice was muffled—“they're going to think we're barking mad.”

“Never mind them. I think we're barking mad.” Lucille smiled and wiped her eyes again. For someone who insisted she wasn't crying, she certainly wiped her eyes a lot.

“Coming home?”

“I still have a dog to exercise. He's hardly lifted a paw so far.” Lucille glanced ruefully over her shoulder at Carter, his long, aristocratic nose pressed against the window of the Rolls as if he was supposed to be there. “Anyway, you still have a fiancé to apologize to.”

“What?”

“Harry, remember? You told him last night you weren't going to marry him. Just after you suggested I might like to sleep with him.”

Oh Lord.

Suzy made up her mind. It was definitely time to come clean.

* * *

Jaz was laughing so much he almost fell off his chair.

Waiting patiently for him to finish—and heroically resisting the impulse to stab him with her fork—Suzy said, “It's not funny, you know.”

“Oh, it is, it is.” Tears of laughter were actually rolling down Jaz's face. Waving his hand at Maeve he gasped, “Quick, give me some of those paper towels.”

“It isn't funny.” Lucille tried to make Jaz understand. “Poor Harry, he's going to be devastated when Suzy tells him. He really loves her.”

“He'll get over it.” Jaz's shoulders began to shake again. “Which is more than I will! I mean, who'd have thought it? Suzy Curtis, scared of nothing and no one, somehow manages to get herself accidentally engaged and can't think of a way of backing out of it because she doesn't want to hurt this bloke's feelings…oh, this is priceless!”

Suzy put down her fork, just to be on the safe side.

“That's the trouble, though, don't you see? It isn't priceless,” she explained. “We're talking about a deal worth two hundred and fifty thousand pounds.”

“Oh well, marry him then,” Jaz mocked. “Then you'll be able to put Occupation: Gold Digger on your passport.”

“Idiot!” wailed Suzy. “
I
don't want the money!”

“It's complicated,” said Lucille, who knew only too well about Harry's feelings of second-bestness where Leo was concerned.

Maeve, holding up a huge bowl of kedgeree, announced, “Can't concentrate on an empty stomach.”

Harry might not know it, but this was set to be one of the more memorable days of his life. Suzy, the one about to make it memorable, was ashamed to discover she was ravenous. Somehow, losing her appetite seemed the least she could do to make up for inflicting so much misery.

“Anyway,” Suzy went on, when everyone around Jaz's kitchen table had their plates full, “it isn't just the Leo thing. If the
Hi!
deal doesn't happen, those two children won't get their trip to Disneyland.”

“Give me strength!” Jaz rolled his eyes in disbelief. “So
that's
why you can't bring yourself to call off the wedding? How much were they expecting out of it?”

“Ten grand.”

“Mad.” Shaking his head, Jaz pushed back his chair and left the kitchen. “Completely mad.”

“So now you know,” said Suzy, to Lucille and Maeve. “If you ever need to confide in a man, pick someone really sympathetic and understanding. Like Donald Trump.”

Jaz was back in less than a minute. He put the check down on the kitchen table next to Suzy's plate of kedgeree. It was made out to her, for ten thousand pounds.

“There. Does that solve your problem?”

Lucille knew it was rude to stare, but she couldn't help it. As far as Jaz was concerned, ten thousand pounds was nothing. Loose change, practically.

Heavens, how must that
feel
?

“I don't want this.” Suzy heaved a sigh of frustration. She hated it when Jaz did his flamboyant I'm-so-rich bit.

“You don't want those kids to miss out,” Jaz told her reasonably. “Why can't I help?”

“Because it's not your problem! Look,
I'll
make sure the kids don't miss out.”

Jaz knew perfectly well that Suzy wasn't one of life's natural scrimpers and savers—she spent money as flamboyantly as she dressed.

“Fine,” he said easily. “Do you actually
have
ten grand lying about?”

“She's ten grand pairs of high-heeled shoes scattered around her bedroom,” chuckled Maeve. “And some grand designer outfits hanging up in that closet of hers, that's for sure.”

“Ha-ha.” Suzy groaned. Honestly, for someone who not so long ago had been swooning over Harry in dramatic fashion, Maeve was taking all this with remarkable calmness.

“She has seven hundred and thirty pounds in her bank account,” Maeve supplied helpfully. “And a few odd pence. I saw this month's statement in the fruit bowl when I popped over the other day to take Harry a thermos of soup.”

“Ah,” said Jaz, “but has she been shopping since then? Come to think of it, didn't I spot a couple of Donna Karan shopping bags, on Saturday, in the backseat of her car?”

“OK, OK, I'll
borrow
it.” Suzy sighed, picking up the check. Folding it in two, she slid it into the pocket of her lime-green shirt. “Leo closes on Sheldrake House next week. As soon as the money comes through, I'll be able to pay you back.”

“Oh God, I hope—”

“What?” Suzy said as Lucille stopped abruptly and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh God you hope what?”

Lucille vigorously shook her head. “No, it's all right. I'm sure that wouldn't happen.”

“Aaargh!” wailed Suzy, belatedly realizing what she meant. “You think the sale might fall through! That's it, isn't it? You think Harry might be so furious with me that he'll persuade Leo to pull out?”

“Well, something like that.” Lucille pulled a face. “Actually, more along the lines of Leo being so furious he decides to pull out. After all,” she ventured cautiously, “you and Leo don't exactly have the smoothest of friendships, do you?”

Bugger bugger bugger.
The collapse of a sale was one of Suzy's least favorite things anyway. When the property in question was her own mother's house it just made it worse. She couldn't face starting up the whole grindingly slow process again.