in case of burglars, that kind of thing.’
Dulcie’s expression changed to incredulous. Would any self- respecting burglar be seen dead breaking into this hideous dump?
Eddie had taken to driving slowly past Pru’s bedsit every day. He didn’t know quite why, it just gave him an odd sense of comfort. When he had seen the windows open he had experienced a thrill of almost teenage proportions. Pru was home early! She was back! He was going to see her again .. .
now!
Except she wasn’t and he wasn’t. He was being interrogated by Dulcie instead.
‘Anyway,’ Eddie decided the best method of defence was attack, ‘what are you doing here?’
‘Me? I’m polishing.’ To prove it, Dulcie aimed Mr Sheen inexpertly at the peeling paint on one of the window frames. She squirted for several seconds, rubbed vigorously at the paint with the scrunched-up knickers and leapt back as a shower of brittle flakes flew at her like shrapnel, just missing her eyes.
Eddie frowned. As scenarios went, this was fairly unlikely.
‘Why?’
‘Pru’s due back on Saturday,’ Dulcie replied airily. ‘I thought I’d give the place a good clean.’
She gestured to the gleaming floor. ‘I’ve been busy for hours.’
This was positively surreal. The idea of Dulcie scrubbing floors was on a par with Cherie Blair swigging meths from a bottle.
‘Have you heard from her?’ Eddie was suddenly overcome with longing, desperate for news of Pru. He hadn’t had so much as a postcard from Spain. ‘I thought she might have been in touch.’
But Dulcie, shaking her head, looked infuriatingly unconcerned.
Not a word.’
‘Too busy enjoying herself, I expect,’ said Eddie, a brave smile concealing the inner turmoil.
‘I expect.’ Spring-clean evidently completed, Dulcie began closing the windows.
Out of sheer desperation, he said abruptly, ‘I swear, my memory’s like a sieve. I’ve forgotten the name of the friend she’s staying with.’
‘Me too.’
But Eddie noticed Dulcie was smiling to herself, the kind of secretive smile that made you want to shake the person doing it until their teeth rattled.
‘What? Why are you looking like that?’
‘Me?’ Dulcie shrugged and looked innocent. ‘I was just thinking how badly Pru needed this holiday. I bet it’s doing her the world of good.’ She chucked Pru’s knickers over her shoulder into the sink and grinned at Eddie. ‘She’ll come back a different person, you’ll see.’
Eddie gazed dispiritedly at the Mr Sheen-soaked knickers dangling over the hot tap. Just so long as Pru didn’t come back with a different person, he didn’t care.
‘You know, I reckon Eddie’s got a bit of a thing for you,’ said Dulcie mischievously as she hung out of the window once more. ‘He’s gone, by the way. It’s safe to come out now. Ooh, naughty boy. I thought he must be.’
Pru crawled out from under her bed, shuddering as a cobweb draped itself across her face.
‘Must be what?’
‘Driving.’ Gleefully, Dulcie watched his Jag disappear around the corner. ‘Tut tut.’
Pru looked worried.
‘He’s breaking the law.’
And all because the lady might get burgled,’ Dulcie intoned, Milk Tray-style. She swivelled round and broke into a grin. ‘He couldn’t take his eyes off your knickers either. See, it must be love.’
‘My Janet Regers,’ wailed Pru, spotting her favourite pair hanging over the sink.
Dulcie looked indignant. ‘It was an emergency, I couldn’t find a duster. I had to look authentic, didn’t I?’
‘They’re my seducing knickers,’ Pru said sadly, trying to imagine a time in the dim and distant future when she might feel up to a spot of seduction. Maybe in fifty or sixty years ...
‘Take it from me, said Dulcie, ‘if you want to seduce a man, the best way is no knickers at all.’
Chapter 35
One way and another, it had been an eventful day. By the time Liza arrived at Dulcie’s house, Dulcie was getting stuck into her second bottle of wine. Half-smoked, irritably stubbed-out cigarettes were piling up in the ashtray, which was only brought out in moments of great crisis.
The more cigarettes she smoked and the more wine she put away, the more sorry for herself Dulcie became.
‘... and not just any old frisbee,’ as she thumped the kitchen table, ash cascaded down the front of her black T-shirt, ‘a pink frisbee with go-faster stripes round the side! I mean, can you picture it?
Patrick, playing with a pink frisbee on a beach .. . on a Tuesday? Has Saint-sodding-Claire been slipping happy pills into his cocoa or what?’
To divert her, Liza said, ‘Never mind Patrick. Tell me what happened with Liam. Careful—’
Dulcie’s co-ordination had gone AWOL. Red wine splashed across the table as she tried to pour and missed. The bottle clunked against her glass, which in turn toppled over, drenching an almost full packet of Silk Cut.
