Love-40 (2 page)

Estelle pulled a face, but Suzi knew it was true. Brothers and sisters shared a special understanding, she supposed. And with their background none more so than they. But it wasn't easy looking out for Liam's interests when his girlfriend happened to be Suzi's business partner. And Suzi couldn't escape the feeling that this wasn't one of Liam and Estelle's regular sort of barneys. There was a bleakness in Liam's green eyes that worried her. And an indifference in Estelle that was striking warning chords in Suzi's heart.

For they belonged together, didn't they? Not just Liam and Estelle but Suzi too. A threesome begun when they were only nine and ten years old. She glanced across at Michael and gave her lover a reassuring smile. But it was a threesome that would always make it hard to admit another.

*   *   *

In the clubhouse afterwards, Suzi, Estelle and Liam made for the conservatory, while Michael went to the bar. Various club members had been drawn out of hibernation, Suzi observed, by the unusual combination of weekend and sunshine, and were dotted around the bar, clubhouse and conservatory, dressed mostly in shorts and sports shirts, rackets and kit bags at their feet, though a few hadn't yet taken off their tracksuits to bare winter-white legs to the world. The place was alive and buzzing with conversation, with the promise of months of tennis ahead, of cool beers after long evening games, of virtuous thirty-, forty-, fifty- and sixty-somethings saying to their doctors –
yes, I get plenty of exercise. Tennis, you know.

Suzi spotted Erica Raddle and her sidekick Deirdre Piston sitting head to head at a far table by the bar. Deirdre was looking flustered – making notes with one hand, patting another stray and rebellious fluffy hair back into her perm with the other. Whilst Erica was laying down her law, her own crowning glory cut into a short, no-nonsense style that wouldn't dare to rebel.

As she threw down her sports bag and lowered herself gingerly into one of Chestnut Grove's battered wicker chairs – whose faded floral cushion bore the imprint of many other behinds – Suzi wondered idly what great plan they were hatching. For Erica had what she called
ambitions
for CG's. And they were likely to be controversial ones.

Suzi had to admit, though, that the place could do with some tarting up. In the clubhouse itself, the Formica counter and lurid fluorescent lighting were about as intimate as a DHSS office. But the conservatory was something else again – a wonderful place to relax in. Even after this afternoon's fiasco, five minutes in here restored that elusive equilibrium, gave Suzi a sense of blissful tranquillity.

Probably an illusion, she thought, trying not to look at Liam or Estelle, stretching out instead in her creaky wicker chair, surveying the view. And it was one of the best – the grass tennis courts alongside, squared off by yew hedges that could, admittedly, do with a trim; green hard courts beyond and down a few steps, and beyond that, as the hill dipped, the village of Pridehaven, the river Pride itself which wound past her own little cottage, and eventually the sandstone cliffs and the sea. But it was an illusion that she'd enjoy for now. And a perfect place to get a drink at the end of play – or in this case, battle.

She surveyed the main contestants. Estelle was staring out of the window towards the grass courts where two women of indeterminate age were slogging it out. Liam was staring in the opposite direction, towards the bar. Silence.

Suzi decided on jolly. ‘What about this grand opening tomorrow, then?'

More silence.

Estelle absent-mindedly stroked a waxy leaf of the small lemon tree in the corner behind her. Suzi had never actually seen a lemon on it and as far as she knew, she was the only person who ever watered the plant. But she liked the fact that it – along with the asparagus fern, broad-leaved palm and variegated ficus – was here. And she liked to imagine the scent of lemon too, adding a Mediterranean feel to the place.

‘What d'you reckon it'll be?'

Even more silence.

‘A convenience store? Toys? A pound shop?' New tenants had moved in next door to Secrets In The Attic, Estelle and Suzi's antique shop, but so far they'd refused to reveal the nature of their trade. It was driving Suzi and Estelle mad with curiosity. Throughout February, lorries had unloaded mysterious contents under the cover of late afternoon winter darkness, and the front window had remained curtained and black.

Estelle had tried a variety of tactics, such as loitering in their own shop doorway during delivery times, engaging the owners, Stan and Terry, in deceptively desultory conversations, even making a pot of tea and whipping up a chocolate sponge in an effort to gain entry and information. But they had no more idea now, the day before the opening, just what the mystery was all about.

‘A hairdresser's?' Suzi said desperately, glancing down at the blue and white tiled floor for inspiration. Someone had thrown a raffle ticket under the glass-topped table. ‘A bookie's?'

The silence was so palpable, Suzi almost felt she could gather it in her arms, take it home for a quick spin through the tumbledryer and give it back to them as freshly laundered conversation. ‘A sex shop?' she said.

‘Sounds good to me.' Michael returned with the drinks, Suzi was aware of the revolving door doing its thing, and then the atmosphere in the clubhouse changed radically as Amanda Lake walked in.

The dial moved to cold for most of the women and hot for all of the men. Amanda Lake, tall, blonde and willowy in golden tan and immaculate tennis whites. Suzi groaned. Amanda Lake, envied by women, lusted after by men. Amanda was all they needed now to turn a bad afternoon into disaster. She grabbed her G & T, closed her eyes, made a wish.

‘Amanda! Coo-eee! How lovely to see you!' Erica rose from her chair and hot-footed it to the bar counter as fast as her large bosom would allow. ‘And how is that
delectable
father of yours?'

Wish not granted. Amanda was still standing there.

Liam tore his hands through his dark curls, making them wilder than ever. ‘Parasites,' he muttered.

‘Amanda or her father?' Estelle enquired sweetly. ‘At least her father has an estate to run. What does Amanda do to justify a place in the world?'

‘Used to be a model, didn't she?' Michael leaned forward confidingly. ‘Wonder why she chucked it in.'

Estelle raised an eyebrow. ‘When a woman gets to a certain age…' She let the words hang.

Miaow. Suzi grinned. In fact, Estelle, at thirty-nine, was the older of the two, and it was unlike her to get her claws out. But who could resist bitching about someone so rich, gorgeous and upper class? And Suzi had to admit that Amanda deserved it, being the babe who had everything – with knobs on. They were all staring at her through the open double doors. But Liam's mouth was practically gaping open. Suzi glared at him. How could he be so
obvious?

‘Ping pong,' Erica was saying, waving red-varnished fingernails towards the games room of the youth club next door. Her chest heaved within the white Aertex tennis shirt she wore. ‘What do you think, Amanda … of a restaurant?'

‘A restaurant?' Amanda's tone – always lazy, rarely expressive – indicated precisely how she felt. Bored. She flicked a strand of fine blonde hair from her face and gave Erica a cool once-over.

‘An exclusive one, of course,' Erica elaborated, lips twitching to reveal a brief flash of horsy teeth, complete with smear of crimson lipstick. ‘Sushi perhaps?'

‘What the bloody hell's sushi?' Liam yelled, jumping to his feet and standing in the doorway like a man possessed.

It was at times like these, Suzi thought, as she tried to cringe away out of sight, that her brother revealed their Irish ancestry. Their mother had loved their father to distraction – had lived in her own kind of lost world when he died. But by God, she'd had a temper the few times Suzi had seen her let rip. And she'd passed it on to her son, who tended to make use of it rather more often.

‘And where would the kids play table tennis?' Liam went on. ‘And pool?'

‘Liam…' Erica, who had clearly forgotten Liam's role as youth club co-ordinator, not to mention his Socialist principles, blinked her sparse eyelashes. ‘It's only at the ideas stage. It would have to go to committee –'

‘Outside, on the
barbecue
area perhaps?' His voice dripped sarcasm.

Suzi exchanged a glance with Michael, who shrugged and drained his glass in response. But what did she expect? Liam's excesses, Liam's views and the propensity with which he aired them, were not Michael's problem, any more than they should be Suzi's. Though they were. They always had been and probably always would be. Because whatever his faults, Suzi thought, clenching both knuckles tight, at least he wouldn't allow the tennis club to elbow the youth club out of existence. At least he still cared enough to get angry.

‘Of course not, Liam.' Erica adopted a patronising tone. ‘The barbecue
patio
would be most inappropriate. Fire risk, you know.'

‘You take the games room away from the kids over my dead body,' said Liam, crashing his fist down on the bar counter.

Amanda laid a hand on his arm. ‘Liam's absolutely right,' she said, with the authority of a woman who has always got her own way. ‘It's a crap idea, Erica. CG's belongs to the kids too. It always has.'

Liam looked like a cat who'd won a mouse a day for the next six months. Suzi hoped Estelle hadn't noticed, but thought it unlikely.

Erica sniffed. ‘We'll see what the committee thinks,' she muttered darkly.

‘I know what
Daddy
will think.' Amanda's hand slipped down to cover Liam's. ‘And presumably it would be his money that would be paying for it.'

Take it away, thought Suzi. C'mon, Liam. Think daddy's money. Just take your hand away.

‘Not at all. I wouldn't dream…' Erica spluttered, looking as if nightmares would be nearer the mark, ‘… other ways of raising money,' she continued unintelligibly, her colour rising beneath the rose-pink of her foundation. ‘Higher subscription fees,' she concluded.

‘If you think we'll agree to higher fees,' Liam began, ‘then … then…'

Amanda appeared to be absent-mindedly stroking Liam's thumb with her forefinger. Suzi downed the remainder of her gin and tonic and wondered how she could create a diversion. A quick river dance on the table top? Grab Michael's hand and fake an orgasm?

‘Daddy won't support a restaurant,' Amanda informed them. ‘Not at the expense of the games room. Daddy…' she squeezed Liam's hand ‘… is pro youth.'

‘Good old daddy.' Estelle rose from her chair. ‘So much for parasites, eh, Suzi?'

‘Where are you going?' Suzi couldn't believe that Liam was just standing there. Just standing there, gazing at Amanda like a lovesick teenager. What was the matter with him? She looked helplessly at Estelle.

‘Home. You can tell Liam I'll see him there.' Estelle grabbed her multi-coloured rucksack. ‘Although to tell you the truth, Suzi,' she went on, ‘I'm not altogether sure it'll be home much longer.'

Chapter 2

Not looking where she was going as she spun through the revolving doors of CGs, and with her mind muttering,
I should have left him years ago,
Estelle bumped slap-crash into Nick Rossi.

‘Hey!' The tennis balls he was carrying spilled to the ground, promptly sprang out of their neat, plastic packaging and began skipping, bumpity-bump down the steps.

‘Sorry.' Estelle blushed and quickly bent to retrieve the nearest one. ‘I was miles away.'

‘Anywhere interesting?' Nick Rossi smiled that easy, sensual smile of his and put a hand on her shoulder.

‘Not really.' Like Amanda Lake, Estelle thought grimly, feeling the warmth and oh-so-slight pressure of it. He seemed to think a beautiful body and female admiration entitled him to intimate contact with whomever, wherever, whenever. Like an advert for Martini, Estelle thought.

‘Let me,' he said, still smiling.

Let him what? Estelle knew herself to be at a disadvantage but found herself smiling back anyway. Well honestly, who could resist? Nick was in his early thirties, unmarried, tall, dark blond and hunky. He was also the best player CG's had to offer. Estelle wondered why he came here. Because the club was so traditionally English? Because he liked playing on grass? Because he liked playing with Amanda Lake? They weren't exactly an item, but you'd have to be insensitive as stone not to catch that chemistry zinging between them. But for some reason, it had apparently gone no further than chemistry.

‘Playing today?' she asked. Stupid. Why else would he and his tennis gear be here? She straightened up and noticed with relief that his eyes were set just a little too close together. Thank heavens for imperfections. She'd have to take a closer look at Amanda next time their paths crossed.

He nodded, his hand staying right where it was. ‘Mixed. Got to keep in practice for the American tournament.' Those eyes were hazel with green and orange circles around the iris, she registered, the close proximity making her nervous. ‘Are you entering?'

Estelle repressed a shiver. ‘I certainly am,' she decided on the spot, though she had told Liam earlier today that he and the American tournament could go and fornicate with themselves.

Nick smiled again – soft, like a caress. ‘Then perhaps we'll be playing together once or twice.' He made the proposition sound erotic. ‘That would be fun, don't you think?'

Better than playing with Liam at any rate, Estelle thought. With Liam, win or lose, she'd be beaten into a mental and emotional pulp. ‘Terrific fun,' she purred back, indicating with a slight raise of one eyebrow that she knew what game he was playing (and it wasn't tennis) that she could play too, and that her heart would not be bruised by the casual flirting of Nick Rossi. He was several years younger than she. And unspeakably sexy. So she was flattered – but not convinced.