Jill Mansell - Mixed doubles

She leaned closer. ‘Look on the bright side. At least you didn’t shoot him.’

Dulcie dredged up a smile.

‘No, there is that.’

‘And at least you weren’t really pregnant.’

Dulcie’s smile did an abrupt U-turn and disappeared. ‘No, I know.’

‘Oh darling, what’s wrong?’ Bibi looked alarmed.

It sounded ridiculous, but Dulcie knew she had to say this too.

‘Those children I told you about, the ones who sang "Silent Night" to me,’ she faltered, trying to explain. ‘It made me realise how much ‘I do want a family ... and then ‘I thought what if God decides to punish me for pretending to be pregnant? What if he makes sure ‘I never have children of my own?’

‘Sweetheart, you can’t possibly think that!’ exclaimed Bibi, before Dulcie’s eyes could fill up again. ‘Heavens, I’m sure God has more on his mind than your latest bit of plotting. ‘I mean, what were you doing really?’ she argued. ‘Just sussing Liam out, seeing if he’d make a good husband and father. If you look at it that way, it’s a perfectly sensible thing to do.’ With a reassuring smile, Bibi tapped her forehead. ‘Like most of your bright ideas, darling. If they come off, fine. Everybody’s happy.’

‘And if they don’t,’ Dulcie concluded ruefully, ‘they’re not.’

By the time they reached the car park it was almost empty. Dulcie gave Bibi a lift home.

‘I’m so glad we’re friends again,’ said Bibi when they pulled up outside her house.

‘So am I.’

Bibi gave her a kiss and opened the passenger door. ‘Now all we have to do is sort you out and cheer you up.’

‘I will cheer up, I promise.’

Dutifully, Dulcie produced a convincing smile. Even admitting she was depressed made her feel bitterly ashamed. Compared with Liza, what the hell did she have to be depressed about?

On her own again in the car, Dulcie switched on the radio. Whitney Houston was belting out:

‘And eye-eye-eye will always love y000ooo0u.’ Vividly Dulcie recalled the party she and Patrick had held at the house a couple of years ago, when all the furniture had been pushed back and everyone had got spectacularly legless on the punch she had concocted. She remembered Bibi and James dancing to this song, this very song. Bibi, her arms thrown around James’s neck, had smiled dreamily up at him and he had bent his dark head and kissed her...

And I, Dulcie recalled with startling clarity, yelled out, ‘Ugh, no lovey-dovey stuff allowed in this house! Less of the snogging if you don’t mind.’

She waited until the song came to an end, drove up to the traffic lights and signalled left.

Then she changed her mind – luckily there were no other cars around – and signalled right instead.

Chapter 53

‘Good grief.’ James looked astonished when he opened his front door. ‘Dulcie. Is something wrong?’

Yes, something’s wrong, thought Dulcie, but not in the way you think.

‘I haven’t wrapped the car round a lamp post, if that’s what you mean. ‘I just needed to talk to you.’ She spoke brightly, as if the last year hadn’t happened. ‘Okay if I come in?’

Bemused, James stood to one side and Dulcie slid past him, heading for the sitting room. The television was on. The coffee table in front of the sofa was littered with Christmas cards, an address book, a half-empty pack of M&S prawn sandwiches and an even emptier tumbler of Scotch.

James’s suit jacket was flung over the back of a chair. He had undone the top button of his green and white striped shirt and loosened his tie. Dulcie watched him spin the top off a bottle of Glenfiddich and refill his glass. He paused and glanced up.

‘Drink?’

‘Better not. I’m driving.’

James frowned slightly.

‘You look terrible.’

About to get indignant Dulcie realised she still had mascara all over her face.

‘Can ‘I use your bathroom?’

He shrugged.

‘Be my guest.’

In the bathroom – rather nicely done out in mulberry and jade green — Dulcie washed her face, which at least stopped her looking like a madwoman, and pressed James’s wrung-out flannel over her puffy eyes. Next, she checked out the toiletries on show and had a brisk rummage through the bathroom cabinet.

No sign of any girlie stuff. Promising.

‘Better,’ James remarked when she returned to the sitting room. He had made her a coffee in the meantime. As she spooned in sugar, Dulcie couldn’t help wondering if he’d heard her clunking around in his bathroom cabinet.

‘Thanks.’

The cards had been pushed to one side, to make way for the tray.

‘Well, I’m fairly sure you didn’t knock on my door just to ask if you could use my bathroom.’

James raised his tumbler, drank, and gave her a quizzical look. ‘So why are you here?’

‘I came to say sorry.’

‘You said it before.’

‘You didn’t want to hear it last time,’ said Dulcie. ‘Now I’m trying again.’

James stood with his back to the fireplace. He was studying her, apparently deep in thought, and rubbing the heel of his hand over his close-cut beard.

It occurred to Dulcie that he was the only man she knew who had a beard she actually liked.

‘Fine. Okay,’ he said at last. ‘It’s in the past. What is this anyway, some kind of guilt trip? A quest for absolution? You can’t rest until everyone whose lives you ever meddled with has forgiven you?’

That was another thing about James, Dulcie remembered, his dry sense of humour. As in Sahara-dry. It wasn’t always easy to know when he was joking. For instance, he definitely sounded serious now, but wasn’t there just the teeniest hint of amusement in his eyes?

Best to grovel, she decided, to be on the safe side. ‘Something like that,’ Dulcie admitted. ‘I know what ‘I did was wrong." She glanced up at James. ‘But ‘I wasn’t the only one.’ His dark eyebrows went up a couple of millimetres. ‘Oh?’

‘Bibi made a mistake, not telling you how old she was. My big mistake was letting you find out.’

Bluntly, no longer penitent, she concluded, ‘And finishing with Bibi was yours.’

James shook his head.

‘Oh, Dulcie, you haven’t changed.’

‘Actually, ‘I have.’ She risked a wry smile. ‘You wouldn’t believe it.’

‘Tell me why you’re really here.’

Finishing her coffee first, Dulcie put the cup back down on the tray and picked up a handful of the envelopes James had already addressed.

‘Sending me one this year?’ she enquired idly.

‘You won’t find your name on any of those. Come to think of it,’ said James, side-tracked, ‘how did you know ‘I was living here?’

Dulcie shrugged and carried on shuffling through the cards. ‘Just clever. Sending one to Bibi?’

When James didn’t reply, she looked up. His mouth was set in an ominously narrow line.

‘Is that why you’re here?’

‘It’s a good enough reason, isn’t it?’ Dulcie decided to just go for it; she — or rather Bibi — had nothing to lose. ‘James, I saw her today. And she isn’t happy. She misses you. And you know you miss her. I mean, talk about screamingly obvious.’

James said slowly, ‘You drove over here to ask me to send Bibi a Christmas card?’

‘Don’t you see?’ Dulcie babbled on, really getting into her stride now. ‘You tried to forget her, you tried going out with other women — well, more like teenagers from what I hear — but it didn’t work, it couldn’t work, because they just weren’t Bibi.’

‘Hang on, did Liza tell you this?’ James was looking bewildered.

‘No, Bibi did.’

Bibi ...?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Impatiently Dulcie brushed the interruption aside. She was on a mission; all she needed now was for James to do as he was told. Now look, you were the one who finished with her, so it’s up to you to make the first move.’