‘Managed without you last night then?’
Why was he looking at her in that peculiar way?
‘Oh, no problem.’ Wondering if for some reason he didn’t believe her, Dulcie began to elaborate.
‘She went to bingo, actually. Won eighteen pounds fifty. Granny’s always been lucky ... last year she entered a competition on the back of a cornflakes packet and won a scuba-diving holiday in Tenerife.’
Liam, magnificently naked, pulled on a tracksuit. He didn’t appear to be listening.
‘I’ve got to get to the club.’
Dying to have a private snoop around the flat, Dulcie said brightly, ‘Don’t worry about me, I can let myself out.’
But he was already picking up her crumpled clothes, holding them towards her.
‘I’d rather we left together.’
This was a bit of a shame but Dulcie consoled herself with the thought that maybe it was Liam’s way of being romantic.
‘Headache gone, then?’ he said as the flat door slammed shut behind them.
Headache?
‘Oh!’ That headache. ‘Oh, absolutely.’ Relieved, Dulcie beamed up at his unsmiling profile.
That must be why he’d seemed so odd; he was worried about her. ‘Completely gone, thanks.’
But Liam still didn’t smile. ‘Good.’
A gleaming red Parcelforce van was just driving off as Dulcie arrived home. Missing its bumper by a whisker as she screeched into the drive, she realised with a strange pang that the driver had strong brown forearms exactly like Patrick’s. No need for that V-sign though.
Pru was in the hall clutching a parcel.
‘It’s for Patrick,’ she said, ‘marked Urgent. I had to sign for it.’
Dulcie wondered what the driver had made of Pru’s bandaged head. With each passing day she was looking more and more like Frankenstein’s monster.
‘Some component for one of Patrick’s computers.’ Peering at the label on the parcel, she recognised the company’s logo.
Their own computer evidently hadn’t been updated with his change of address.
Dulcie dumped the parcel on the hall table and made her way through to the kitchen.
‘It says Urgent.’
Following her, Pru sounded agitated. Pru, Dulcie recalled, was the kind of person who felt compelled to pay the electricity bill the same day it arrived. Preferably with a first-class stamp.
‘Okay, okay. Breakfast first. You make the tea and I’ll defrost the doughnuts.’ It was still only nine o’clock, after all. ‘Then I’ll take it round.’
When Dulcie arrived at the office, however, the doors were locked. For a Tuesday morning this was unthinkable; Patrick had to have been abducted by aliens at the very least.
Except he hadn’t. When Dulcie climbed the next flight of stairs she found the door to Patrick’s flat open and Patrick there, standing with his back to her, packing decidedly un-computerlike things into a holdall.
Dulcie cleared her throat and he spun round.
‘Did I startle you? Sorry.’
‘Dulcie!’
She half smiled.
‘I’ve never seen you looking guilty before. What is it, a couple of kilos of heroin?’
The expression on Patrick’s face was exquisite. She couldn’t resist going over to the bag and taking a closer look.
A beach towel. Swimming trunks. Factor 4 Ambre Solaire. A bottle of wine and a corkscrew. A frisbee.
A frisbee, for God’s sake...
She looked at Patrick, who had never blushed in his life. He was blushing.
Dulcie said, ‘Don’t forget your bucket and spade.’ He zipped up the holdall.
‘What are you doing here, Dulcie?’
She held out the parcel.
‘It says Urgent. I thought you might be desperate.’
‘Oh. Thanks.’
Like a small boy reluctantly unwrapping a birthday present from a great-aunt, knowing it’s going to be socks, Patrick opened the package.
‘If I’d known,’ said Dulcie, to break the suddenly awkward silence, ‘I’d have bought you a beachball instead.’
Recovering himself, as if realising he didn’t have to feel guilty, Patrick held up the polystyrene box of microchips and grinned.
‘No really, these are fine. Just what I wanted.’
Dulcie felt something twist and tighten in her stomach. ‘You’ve closed the office.’
