Gone in the Night. Mary-Jane Riley
Alex, grinning. ‘Yes, I read about that.’
‘There’s also a centre for holistic therapy, complete with yurts, and a couple of barns that can be used for corporate events or as wedding venues. Of the three sons, Simon, the youngest, is married, and has a degree in chemistry or something. The eldest, Lewis, is on his third wife as I said, and the middle son, Jamie, has just got divorced. There we are. A potted history.’
Alex wondered if she was meant to give him a round of applause.
The evening continued. Alex was now drinking water, much to David’s annoyance.
‘I need to keep a clear head, David,’ she told him more than once. ‘I’ve got to do an interview in the morning.’
‘But you shouldn’t waste all this,’ he said, sweeping his arm around the room.
‘I’m not, I’m enjoying talking to people.’ Some, anyway.
‘But—’
It was almost as if David wanted to get her drunk.
And just before the fireworks started he had manoeuvred her into the cold air of the garden for ‘a walk to clear their heads’.
‘My head is perfectly clear, thanks, David.’
‘Come on, don’t be a spoilsport.’
He was beginning to get a little bit annoying. She took a deep breath, she really didn’t want to ruin the evening. ‘What do you mean? I’m not a spoilsport, and anyway, it’s bloody cold out here.’ She rubbed her arms, trying to get rid of goosebumps. She tried to smile at him. ‘Come on, let’s go back into the warm.’ There was something about the way David was looking at her that was making her nervous.
He lunged towards her.
Startled, Alex jerked her head back. David stumbled, and she tried – and failed – to suppress a giggle. Then she saw his face: puce and furious.
‘David, I—’ she said, searching frantically for words to let him down gently, knowing her laugh had been cruel.
He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her towards him and managing to plant a wet kiss on her mouth.
‘No, David.’ She wriggled out of his grip, resisting the desire to wipe the back of her hand across her lips.
‘Why not? Aren’t I good enough for you?’ He flushed, his lips wet and flabby.
‘Don’t be silly. I see you as a friend, that’s all.’ She tried a smile. ‘I’m not looking for a relationship right now.’
‘With me?’
‘With anyone. I am sorry, David.’
‘You led me on.’ His face was suffused with anger, the veins in his neck like cords of rope.
Alex was taken aback. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘You did.’ He thrust his chin forward, hands in fists.
Had she? Not to her knowledge. ‘David—’
‘Oh, forget it, you’re just like all the others.’ He marched off, leaving Alex even more confused. That had come out of absolutely bloody nowhere and there was no way she had ‘led him on’, as he put it. She really didn’t have any desire for a relationship at the moment. She’d been there, tried that.
‘It was David Gordon, wasn’t it?’
The man’s voice brought her back to the present.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Fight for the Homeless charity?’
‘You were spying on me,’ she said mildly. ‘David and I were outside when we argued.’
The man threw back his head and laughed. ‘Caught. I promise I wasn’t being pervy, I was merely looking out of the window when I saw the pair of you.’ He shook his head. ‘Arguing. Is that what you call it nowadays. Poor David. Never has much luck.’
‘I don’t think luck comes into it. I hadn’t encouraged him at all when he—’ She stopped. What was she doing explaining herself to a stranger? He had no right to know anything about her. She was irritated with herself. She put her glass down on a tray being carried by a passing waiter. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I must leave.’
He put a restraining hand on her arm. ‘Wait. Do you have to?’
‘Yes. I have to be up in the morning for a radio interview.’ She looked at his hand. He let it drop.
‘How intriguing.’
‘Not really.’ She gave him a brief smile as she turned to go.
‘Stay.’
She looked at him. ‘I really do have to get home.’
‘I’m Jamie Rider,’ he said as if she hadn’t spoken. He put out his hand.
Alex took it. She had known it was Jamie Rider, although he was far more impressive in real life than the photos she had found of him had led her to believe.
‘Alex Devlin,’ she said, shaking his hand.
His grip was warm and firm. ‘The journalist.’
‘Oh dear. You said it like it was a cross I had to bear.’ She laughed, lightly.
He laughed. ‘Not at all. Your book is like a bible for my mother.’
She gave a wry smile. The book. All the profiles she had put together about interesting people, the stories she had written about the danger of suicide forums on the Internet, the investigations she had done into dodgy business practices, all this counted for nothing against a book she had been commissioned to write after an article of hers had appeared in the paper about extreme couponing. The art of collecting coupons and vouchers and spending them well was a very popular subject. Popular enough to write a book about and for the book to get onto the bestseller lists. Popular enough to give her the cash to put a deposit down on a waterfront apartment in Woodbridge.
‘That’s good to hear,’ she said, thinking he was either having her on or was trying to ingratiate himself with her. After all, what possible pleasure would the imposing and somewhat terrifying Marianne Rider take in cutting out coupons from newspapers? It didn’t go with the red dress and frosty look.
‘Perhaps you could sign it for her some time?’
‘Of course.’ Really? she thought. ‘And you. What’s your niche on the farm? The backwoodsman lodges, the yurts or the haunted island?’
Jamie Rider threw back his head and laughed. ‘You make us sound like a family of weirdos.’
Alex raised an eyebrow.
‘Ah. You think we are a family of weirdos.’ He nodded. ‘Fair enough. But I don’t have anything to do with any of those projects. Never have. I’m far too boring. I work in the city.’
‘Banking,’ said Alex.
‘You’ve been doing your research. I’m impressed.’ He didn’t look impressed. ‘Yes, banking. Very dull.’
‘Not at all,’ she replied, trying to sound politely convincing. ‘I’m sure it has its own delights.’
Again he laughed, and Alex found she enjoyed hearing it. It made her smile. ‘But now,’ she looked at her watch, ‘I really must be going.’
‘No. The night is still young.’ He frowned. ‘You can’t disappear like some sort of Cinderella, not when I’ve just found you.’
‘I have been here all the time, and I’m afraid I must disappear. So, please excuse me.’
‘Can I give you a lift? I mean, since you and David …’
She shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine, thank you.’