She smacked his finger away. 'What's he going to do?' she demanded crossly. 'The wogs got his wallet back intact. If you stick to your story, there won't be a problem.'
'I know blokes like Spicer. Once they get the bit between their teeth, they never stop. He knows damn well Hughes didn't drop his wallet here.'
'He's a midget,' she said dismissively. 'Since when were you frightened of midgets?'
'Since I was taught some sense. It's a pity you never learned any, darlin'. Small guys use their brains ... big guys like your brain-dead husband put all their energy into getting atop the nearest available tart.'
'What's he gonna do?' she repeated sulkily.
'Talk to George,' Roy said grimly. 'I'll put money on it.'
'So?'
'She'll be at me with the questions again.' He brought his fist up and rested it under her chin. 'If you'd let it alone, Cill, she'd've gone on with her research and got precisely nowhere because I was the only source she had.' He moved his knuckles up her soft skin, caressing it gently, before pressing them against her cheekbone. 'Now she'll come looking for you, and if you drop me in it one more time-' he spread his lips in an evil smile-'I'll use this in such a way that even the gorilla you married won't recognize you.'
Cill ignored him again. Roy's threats were never more than bluster. 'Nick's getting worse, you know. He's been dropping things, but he won't go near the doctors. I think the paralysis is spreading.'
Roy lowered his fist and turned away. 'Well, you won't be shedding any tears over it. He's worth more to you dead than alive.'
'Maybe I have feelings for him.'
'Don't talk crap,' said Roy dismissively. 'The only feelings you have are for his money. You're getting quite a taste for the high life one way and another.'
'Someone had to look after him.'
He gave an angry laugh. 'You're so full of it, darlin'. You thought you'd get a pussycat ... instead you get a drooling lunatic whose anger control mechanism's shot to pieces.'
Her pale eyes glittered malevolently. 'He adores me,' she said, 'always has. I make him feel better about himself.'
'Only because he doesn't know who you are.'
It was true, but she was damned if she'd admit it. Half of Nick's brain had been scrambled seven years ago in London when two Metropolitan coppers ran him head first into a lamppost before taking their boots to him. They claimed they mistook him for a drug baron who was known to carry a gun. The fact that a gun was never found, the only drugs he had on him were class-C tranquilizers and he was held in a cell for three hours before he was given medical attention meant compensation of two hundred thousand for brain damage, wrongful arrest and imprisonment. It had taken his solicitors five years to win it through the courts, but Cill had thought dumping Roy to play Florence Nightingale to a cripple was a gamble worth taking.
'You won't be shedding tears neither, darlin',' she said, running a soft hand up between Roy's shoulder blades. 'I always said I'd share it, and I will.' She dug her fingernails into the nape of his neck. 'In any case, it was you told me to do it.'
He pressed his fingers into his eye sockets. 'I'll swing for you one of these days, Cill.'
She touched her lips to his cheek. 'Don't be silly, darlin'. I'm the only girl you've ever loved.'
It wasn't until Andrew turned onto the A31 and put his foot down that Jonathan roused himself to speak. 'Thanks.'
'Pleasure. We'll stop at the first service station and get something to eat. There's one on the M27.'
'I'm OK. Don't worry about me.'
'I'm not. I'm worrying about myself. I haven't eaten since breakfast.' He glanced at Jonathan's tired face. 'You'll be eating, too, pal, whether you like it or not. You can't go on starving yourself ... not if you want to remain sane.'
'I'm not starving myself.'
'Then why are your clothes hanging off you?' He flicked the indicator and pulled out into the fast lane of the dual carriageway. 'You can stay with me tonight, then tomorrow I'm taking you to my doctor.'
'I can't. I have a tutorial at eleven.'
'I'll phone your department and say you won't be in till Monday.'
'I really-'
'Cut the crap,' Andrew said sharply. 'I've hauled my arse halfway across the country to bail you out. The least you can do is humor me. If nothing else, the doc will give you some knockout pills to help you sleep.'
Jonathan hunched his shoulders. 'They don't work. I've tried ... nothing works when your brain won't switch off.'
'Is it Emma?'
His friend gave a mirthless laugh. 'No.'
'Then what's the problem?'
It was a moment before Jonathan answered. 'The usual,' he said with sudden resignation, as if recognizing that Andrew needed something for his trouble. 'Rueing the day I was born into this bloody awful country ... wishing I was white and rich. It's an apartheid thing. Either you belong or you don't.'
He spoke with such bitterness that Andrew didn't doubt he believed what he was saying. Perhaps it was true.
