This Could Change Everything(102)

‘You are.’ She beamed at him as if he’d just got a brilliant answer on Pointless.

At once, Brendan burst into song at maximum volume: ‘SWEET CAROLINE . . . BAM, BAM, BAMMM!’

Caz screamed with delight. ‘That’s one of my favourite karaoke songs!’

‘Mine too.’ His face red and shiny and suffused with joy, Brendan grabbed her hand and pressed it to his own ample chest. ‘Can you feel my heart? It’s going like the clappers. You’re the one making it do that!’

‘You just wait,’ Caz promised with a filthy cackle. ‘I can make all sorts happen when I set my mind to it.’

‘Well, well,’ Conor marvelled three hours later as Brendan and Caz left the Red House arm in arm. ‘I think that’s what you call a turn-up for the books.’

Time had been called at the bar. Jude was clearing tables and Scarlett was stacking glasses in the washer behind the bar. She looked up at him. ‘Like my nan always used to tell us, there’s a lid for every pot.’

‘My grandfather used to say there was a shoe for every foot.’ Conor was struck by the coincidence. ‘When we’re old, d’you suppose we’ll start spouting stuff like that?’

Scarlett used her forearm to push her hair out of her eyes. ‘To be fair, you’re already pretty old.’

He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘You’ve changed. Remember when you couldn’t stop flirting with me? You used to tell everyone how much you liked me.’

‘Liked. I did like you back then. Past tense.’

‘Oh?’ Half-jokingly, Conor said, ‘So you went off me, did you? What did I do wrong?’

Scarlett wiped dry a couple of trays and gave him an are-you-kidding look. ‘You mean apart from not being remotely interested in me and going out with Belinda instead? OK, I know I’m hopeless in lots of ways, but one thing I’ve learned to do over the years is train myself not to waste my time mooning over men who don’t fancy me back. Because it doesn’t help, it just makes everything worse. God knows, I’ve make a prat of myself often enough without adding that to the list. Finished with that glass, have you?’

‘Not quite,’ said Conor, because she was holding out her hand like a teacher about to confiscate a phone.

Behind him, the door opened and a male voice called out, ‘Scarlett! Don’t be long, OK? I’m on double yellows and there’s a police car doing the rounds.’

Conor twisted sideways on his stool and saw a good-looking guy with damp blonde hair standing in the doorway.

‘Five minutes,’ Scarlett called back.

The man disappeared and Conor said, ‘Who’s that?’

‘Danny.’

‘Danny the ex?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘The guy who cheated on you, then tried to persuade you to sleep with him anyway?’

Energetically she wiped down the brass-topped bar. ‘That’s the one.’

‘And now he’s waiting outside for you?’ Conor felt as if a nest of snakes had taken up residence in his gut.

‘Hear that?’ Scarlett pointed to the nearest window, which sounded as if it was having handfuls of gravel flung at it from outside. ‘It’s tipping down. Danny offered to give me a lift home. What am I going to say to him, “Ooh, no thanks, I’d rather walk”?’

‘So does that mean you’re back sleeping with him now?’ The words had spilled out without warning, prompting Scarlett to give him a pointed look.

‘And what business is that of yours?’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘Oh yes, that’s it, none at all.’

Since there was no answer to this, Conor finished his drink and handed her the empty glass.

Go away, snakes.

Aloud he said, ‘You still shouldn’t do it.’





Chapter 49


They’d arranged to meet at St Mark’s at two o’clock, but when Zillah arrived early in her cab, she saw that Matthew was already there in the car park, waiting for her.

She smiled to herself; his excessive punctuality had always driven her mad.

Ah well. It had taken five days to make all the arrangements, but now it was about to happen. At least the weather was perfect. Fingers crossed everything else went according to plan.

As she emerged from the taxi into the sunshine, a warm breeze loosened the blossom from the cherry trees, showering her with baby-pink petals.

‘Zillah.’ Greeting her with an affectionate kiss on each cheek, Matthew smiled and carefully removed a couple of the fallen petals from her hair. ‘You look like a bride, if that isn’t an inappropriate thing to say to one’s ex-wife.’

One’s ex-wife. His turn of phrase still entertained her.

‘I’m eighty-three.’ She patted his arm. ‘I think that ship has well and truly sailed. Anyway, thanks for doing this.’

‘No need to thank me. I’d have done it anyway.’ He studied her face. ‘You’re looking well. How are you feeling?’

‘Pretty good, considering. Still get a bit tired. But I was lucky.’ She changed the subject. ‘And you look very healthy too.’

‘Thanks to the golf. It’s a wonderful game. You really should come up to my club sometime, give it a try—’

‘Not in a million years,’ Zillah said bluntly, before he could launch into yet another version of the spiel he’d subjected her to on the phone the other night. ‘I’m not a tartan-trousers kind of person.’