wrong footed him every time, just as she did now.
‘There might be a deal we can come to,’ she said.
‘A deal?’
The don’t suppose it occurred to you to wonder why I phoned you in the first place tonight, did it?’
‘Er …’
‘Some of us might have personal concerns of our own, you know. Despite our emotional detachment.’
‘Yes, of course, Diane. But ‘
‘It’s about Angie,’ she said.
‘Oh.’ And because Cooper thought that might sound pathetic and inadequate, he added, ‘You mean your sister?’
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Fry reached a hand to take hold of her glass. It was a carefully controlled movement, but Cooper sensed that she needed something to occupy her attention. Still she kept her head turned away, with the shadow of the rain-streaked roof across her face, her eyes too dark to read their expression when she spoke.
‘You know damn well I mean my sister.’
Cooper winced at the hint of venom in the sibilants. He’d heard that tone of voice before, and the subsequent conversation had never been comfortable.
‘I’m sorry, Diane.’
‘Oh, yeah? Sorry for what?’
Cooper threw up his hands. ‘For interfering. It was none of my business. I had no right to interfere in your life. You told me that yourself, and you were right. But I just went blundering on. All I can say is that I thought I was doing the right thing. The right thing for you, I mean.’
‘And I’m supposed to say “thank you”?’
‘Of course not. You’re angry with me. And you have every right to be.’
Fry raised her shoulders and took a deep breath. Cooper braced himself for the anger that he thought was about to come. He’d given her the cue, after all. And it would be better once it was all out, once the storm was over. The air would be left clear, and they might be able to carry on with whatever relationship they had before, instead of the constant nervous uncertainty, the treading on eggshells in case he said the wrong thing.
But the outburst didn’t come. Fry let out the breath. Her shoulders slumped. She took a drink of her vodka and watched four people get out of a Volvo in the car park and walk towards the terrace.
If they’d been able to sit outside, at least there would have been a bit of breeze - a breath of air to ease the humidity. Cooper could use it now. His neck and forehead prickled
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uncomfortably. Diane Fry’s intense concentration on him had always made him sweat and feel claustrophobic. He was worried she’d judge his responses disappointing, his manner lacking in signs of enthusiasm or understanding, or whatever else it might be that she was expecting of him.
But Fry seemed to have made a decision and she wasn’t going to allow anything to distract her from her purpose, however distasteful the task she had in mind.
‘What do you know about her?’ she said.
‘About Angie?’
‘Yes. You remember - my sister.’
‘Not very much.’
‘But you know something about her. She talked to you. She came to your flat.’
‘Yes, she did.’
‘She stayed the night.’
‘Yes. But Diane - I did it for you.’
‘And what do you mean by that, Ben?’ she said.
‘Just …’ Cooper raised his shoulders, flapped his arms helplessly. He couldn’t say to her that she ought to understand the importance of relationships and family and friendship - she, who had been so cruelly deprived of it. Shouldn’t her past experiences have made her more understanding, more aware of what she had missed?
Somehow Cooper’s hopeless gestures seemed to communicate more clearly what he meant than any amount of embarrassing sentences. She could have tuned out his words, refused to listen, cut him short with a few painful expletives and left him floundering. But she couldn’t defend herself against the sudden jolt of comprehension that leaped between them, like a charge of electricity from a badly earthed connection. Her eyes widened, a faint flush crept along her injured cheek. Cooper saw that she knew what he meant, after all. She’d read it in his mind, translated it from his eyes without the need for words.
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But he didn’t expect Diane Fry to respond. He expected her to do exactly what she did next: to turn away, unable to meet his eyes. There was nothing else she needed to say.
‘Diane, I’ve said I’m sorry. I don’t know what else I can do.’
Fry leaned across the table towards him. Her face was pale, as if she had been living out the summer in the darkness of the caves below Castleton instead of in the open air.
‘Ben, how much does it cost to get a private detox?’
Cooper looked startled. ‘I don’t know.’
‘About two grand, would you say?’
‘Thereabouts. What is it you want from me?”
