‘Just for the day.’
The something, she realised, was jealousy.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Devon.’ He glanced out of the window, at the traffic-clogged street below. ‘It’s hot, it’s sunny.
We thought we’d drive down, find a beach.’
And play fucking frisbee, thought Dulcie, biting her lip until it hurt.
‘You and Claire?’
‘Me and Claire.’ Patrick nodded.
‘Sure you can remember how to swim?’ She mimed the breaststroke. ‘It’s a leisure pursuit, you do it in water. Sometimes you splash about a bit and have something known as fun. Maybe if I drew a diagram—’
‘Dulcie, stop,’ said Patrick, but not crossly. He was being – ugh, far worse, Dulcie realised –
patient with her. ‘You always told me I worked too hard. Well, now I’m taking a bit of time off to enjoy myself. You of all people should approve.’
Inexplicably, Dulcie’s eyes filled with tears. She wanted to scream at his stupidity. He wasn’t supposed to take time off and enjoy himself now.
‘Are you crying?’ Patrick looked shocked. ‘You never cry.’ He unzipped the holdall, pulled out the beach towel and gave it to her to wipe her eyes on. Then he smiled briefly. ‘Must be your hormones.’
Wrong, thought Dulcie, it’s you.
Dammit, how thick could an intelligent man get?
Chapter 34
Since she was supposed to be in Majorca where the temperature was up in the nineties, Pru realised she was going to look pretty odd if she reappeared without at least some kind of a tan.
By eleven o’clock, Dulcie’s back garden had turned into a suntrap. Reassured by its total seclusion, Pru dragged one of the padded sunloungers into pole position, slathered on half a tube of Factor 8, arranged herself so as to catch the maximum number of rays, and closed her eyes.
She almost fainted twenty minutes later when a man’s voice said, ‘Jesus Christ, what happened to you?’
Pru opened her eyes and shrieked. Liam was standing over her looking appalled, which was fairly understandable given that she was wearing her least exotic white bra and a pair of ancient green pants.
‘I wasn’t asleep!’ Gabbling, stalling for time, Pru sat bolt upright and tried to cover herself with her hands. Being found naked would have been better than being spotted in these pants. She peered across at the gate which led through from the front garden. ‘I didn’t hear the gate! How did you open it without clicking the latch?’
The wooden gate was only four feet high. Liam gave her a pitying look.
‘I jumped over.’
‘Oh.’
‘I thought you were Dulcie.’ He paused. ‘From a distance.’ Highly likely, thought Pru.
‘Dulcie isn’t here.’
Liam was still staring at her head. Pru braced herself for the next question. In the event of emergency, she had an explanation ready. She had been in a car crash.
But Liam said, ‘I thought you were supposed to be in Majorca.’
‘Yes, I ... well, I ...’
‘So what’s with the bandages?’
Pru swallowed.
‘I ... had an ...’
Accident, prompted her brain. You had an accident.
‘You had an operation,’ Liam suggested helpfully. ‘What, to pin your ears back?’
Pru was outraged.
‘Who told you? Bloody Dulcie, I suppose—’
Liam grinned.
‘Relax. Lucky guess. Actually, my cousin had it done years ago. You look like she looked afterwards.’ The grin broadened. ‘Drove her mad not being able to wash her hair.’
Praying he’d go away wasn’t doing much good. Liam was now making himself comfortable on the grass beside her sunlounger.
‘Dulcie might not be back for ages.’
He shrugged. ‘That’s okay. I’ll keep you company instead.’
‘Oh.’
In contrast with Liam, Pru was feeling more and more uncomfortable. She sensed he had something to say that he hadn’t yet said.
‘So you’re the grandmother, I take it?’
‘Sorry? Oh ... yes.’ Unhappily, Pru nodded. ‘I didn’t want anyone to know I was here.’
