Jill Mansell - Mixed doubles

‘My pleasure. Sit down, Pru.’ Terry held the chair for her. Glancing up, he caught his secretary’s eye. ‘No need to wave your eyebrows at me like that, Dora,’ he remarked easily. ‘Mrs Kasteliz is my cleaning lady.’

Tight-lipped, Dora closed the door behind her.

‘Sorry about that,’ said Terry. ‘They know I’m involved with someone, they just don’t know who. It kills the secretaries to be left in the dark. Now then, you’re looking well. Good holiday?’

‘Actually, that was a fib,’ Pru admitted. ‘I didn’t really go on holiday.’

As a solicitor, Terry Lambert was nothing if not diplomatic. He leaned back in his leather chair and said, ‘I see.’ Pru smiled.

‘Apart from my doctor, you’re the first person to see these.’ He looked faintly alarmed.

‘See what?’

But Pru was scooping her hair up and away from her face. Her grey eyes shone.

‘The stitches came out this morning.’

Terry broke into an enormous grin.

‘They’re great. You look great. Well done.’

‘It’s all thanks to you,’ Pru said happily.

‘Is that why you came here? To show me your ears?’

‘Well, that too.’ Pru let her hair fall back down over her shoulders. Then she took a deep breath.

‘But the other reason is I want a divorce.’

Having been reduced to crossing the days off on his calendar, Eddie had come to the conclusion that this was as bad as being back at boarding school yearning for half-term. Worse, in fact, he thought now as he stood gazing out of his office window. This was like yearning for half-term and, praying that during the course of the holiday you were going to be deftly relieved of your virginity.

It was Saturday. It was — he glanced at his watch — three minutes to ten. Any minute now, if all went according to plan, Pru would rattle up the drive in her ancient Mini. She wouldbe bronzed and relaxed from her holiday. He would tease her about the non-arrival of her postcard. She would make a fuss of Arthur and he, Eddie, would try hard not to wish it was his ears she was fondling.

And at some stage, somehow, he would pluck up enough courage to tell Pru Kasteliz how he felt about her.

Because he had put it off and off and there came a time when you had to brace yourself and force yourself to make some kind of move.

Because if I don’t, thought Eddie, nervously thrusting his hands into the pockets of his brand-new trousers, nobody else is going to do it for me.

As she swung into the cobbled courtyard, Pru had to brake hard to avoid Liam. Dulcie, she thought briefly, would be disappointed with her.

Liam wasn’t. His eyes lit up when he saw Pru.

‘Terrific timing, darling! I have to get my car to the garage, some problem with the gearbox. Be an angel and follow me down, would you? Then you can give me a lift back.’

Pru glanced up automatically at the office window. There was Eddie, with his hands in his pockets, standing there watching them. At the sight of him, in his crumpled blue shirt and habitually loosened tie, something in Pru’s stomach went ping.

‘I can’t. Eddie’s expecting me.’

‘Ah, never mind Eddie. He won’t sack you.’ Grinning, Liam followed the direction of Pru’s gaze. Catching Eddie’s eye he mimed opening the window then yelled up, ‘Okay if I borrow her for a bit?’

Eddie didn’t say it but the schoolboy riposte ran through his mind: ‘A bit of what?’

He watched Pru giving the Mini’s dashboard a vigorous polish with a tissue. She looked beautiful and totally absorbed in her task, as if buffing up the dashboard was more important than anything else in the world.

‘All right,’ Eddie said finally, and with extreme reluctance.

He felt like a prisoner whose parole has been revoked at the last minute. Or maybe a schoolboy who has just been told that half-term’s been postponed.

Dammit, he was ready to tell Pru how he felt about her now...

‘Great. Just dropping the car off at Pargeter’s. Won’t be two ticks.’ Liam gave him a cheerful thumbs-up before turning back to Pru. ‘Meet me down there, okay?’

‘Okay.’

Standing at his window, Eddie wondered what he was saying to her. Now that Liam was no longer shouting, he couldn’t hear a thing.

He watched Liam pause, studying Pru in silence for a second.

‘There’s something different about you,’ Liam told Pru. He frowned. ‘Can’t think what it is.’

That was the thing about Liam, she thought, he was never going to win Mastermind.

‘New lipstick, probably,’ said Pru.

Eddie, up in his office, thought agitatedly, Just stop yakking and get on with it. The sooner you’re out of here, the sooner you’ll be back.

Pargeter’s, the ultra-smart garage catering for cars like Liam’s, was on the other side of Bath.

Predictably, by the time Pru pulled up on the forecourt, Liam was already leaning against the front desk, heavily engaged in chatting up the glossy blonde receptionist.

‘Don’t let me interrupt you,’ Pru observed drily when he leapt – several minutes later – into the Mini’s passenger seat.

‘You didn’t see what she was hiding under that desk.’ Liam mimed a hugely bulging stomach.

‘Seven months gone, no less.’ He pulled a face. ‘One way and another, I’ve suffered enough baby talk to last a lifetime.’

Pru concentrated on doing a U-turn against the prevailing flow of traffic. She wondered if he’d ask her how Dulcie was.

It seemed not.

‘Damn,’ said Liam. ‘Take the next right.’

When Pru glanced across, she saw him examining the front of his white Nike sweatshirt.

‘Oil,’ he sighed. ‘Bloody garage, filthy place. You don’t mind, do you, darling?’ he added with a beguiling smile. ‘My flat’s only half a mile from here. Won’t take me two minutes to change.’

Pru shrugged, indicated right and changed down into second gear. But Liam was still looking at her.

‘Of course!’ he exclaimed, so suddenly that Pru almost did an emergency stop.

‘Of course what?’

‘You. Your ears! The last time I saw you, they were wrapped in five miles of bandage ...’

‘Left or right here?’

‘Left.’ He grinned at her, shaking his head in mock disbelief. ‘And you weren’t even going to tell me. Are you happy with them?’

‘Very happy,’ said Pru.

‘I knew you looked different.’ Liam sounded pleased with himself, but puzzled. ‘So why aren’t you showing them off?’

‘I don’t need to.’ Pru was wearing her hair in its customary heavy bob. She knew she looked different. She also knew the only reason she looked different was because she felt different.

‘You look great, really great.’ Liam was still grinning broadly. ‘Okay, we’re here, pull in behind the Scimitar.’

‘Don’t be ages,’ Pru warned him, but before she could flip open the glove compartment and get out her latest paperback, Liam’s warm fingers had closed around her wrist.

‘Come up with me. I’ll show you my flat.’

What was wrong with etchings? wondered Pru. ‘It’s okay, I’m fine here.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Masterfully, he took the keys from the ignition. ‘Anyway, I’ve got a present for you.’

A present? Was this a joke?

‘What kind of a present?’ Pru looked suspicious. Liam winked.

‘Just a little something to celebrate you getting your new ears.’

‘I was invited out to Kuwait last year, to play in a pro-am tournament,’ Liam explained over his shoulder as he rummaged through the chest of drawers in his bedroom. ‘Everyone taking part was given a memento by the sheikh. Solid-gold razors for the blokes, earrings for the girls. Ah

— here they are.’

Pru, leaning against the door frame, said, ‘So what was there, some kind of misunderstanding? I mean, you don’t look like a girl.’