She leaned over the table and her dress sank even lower; he could almost see her navel. ‘After our steaks we could go on there, then.’
Sean’s gorge rose at the thought, but he smiled. ‘Won’t your husband be waiting for you?’
She swallowed the rest of her whisky before she answered. ‘The sod ran out on me years ago.’
‘Sorry, did I touch on a sore point? Or were you glad to see the back of him?’
She looked down into her empty glass. ‘Can I have another whisky, or is it rationed?’
He waved to the barman, mouthing, ‘two more whiskies, Fred!’
‘I don’t usually drink that much,’ Marty said. ‘It’s just the men in my life that drive me to drink.’ She took the glass from the barman, smiling flirtatiously at him. ‘But I love you, Fred, you know that, don’t you?’
‘Sure I do,’ he said indifferently, going back to his bar.
Marty drank, her eyes half-closed. Sean was still on his first glass; he sipped a little, waiting.
‘Have you got kids, Marty?’
‘Oh, yeah, he left me with the kids … and not a penny in maintenance, either. At least I got the house, in the divorce settlement.’
‘He didn’t contest the divorce?’
‘We couldn’t find him to tell him about it. The bastard was in Australia at the time – now he’s back in England, but if he thinks he’s getting any money out of me, he’s wrong.’
‘He’s asked you for money?’
‘Men always end up asking you for everything they can get. Well, he won’t get anything from me. The house is mine and I’m hanging on to it.’
‘Is he trying to get the house from you? Have you seen him, Marty?’
Marty frowned, staring across the table. ‘You ask a lot of questions.’
‘I’m just interested,’ he said.
Her eyes narrowed. ‘Oh, yeah? You were a cop before you got into scriptwriting, weren’t you? Once a cop always a cop.’ She put a finger to her nose, flattening the nostrils, made a snuffling noise. ‘And once a pig always a pig.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ Sean said, grinning, trying to keep the atmosphere light, but she merely glowered at him.
‘I might have known you were up to something, inviting me out. Why do I always get taken for a ride? I keep thinking I’ve learnt my lesson where men are concerned, but I keep getting suckered.’ Angrily she drained her glass and got to her feet. ‘I’m going. You can eat the bloody steaks yourself.’
‘Did you know that he was still bothering Annie Lang?’ Sean asked as she turned to go.
Marty stood still, her face blank. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Sean didn’t believe her. ‘Tell him to leave Annie alone, or he’ll find himself in prison this time.’
‘Is that what all this is about? You just wanted to pump me about Roger? You dirty bastard. And I thought it was me you were interested in! Serves me right for being a woman. Women are always the ones who get the fuzzy end of life’s lollipop, aren’t we?’
‘Just tell him, Marty,’ Sean insisted.
‘Tell him yourself. And I hope he splits your head open with a meat cleaver.’ Marty’s face was convulsed in sudden fury. She pushed through the crowded bar, the swing doors parting and closing behind her.
The curtains were drawn. The light of a gas fire gave a red glow to the darkness, dimly lit up the pictures of Annie lining the walls.
Lying on his back, the man on the bed stared at them, a tiny muscle ticking beside his mouth. They were all Annie, yet a whole gallery of different women stared back at him.
Annie in a simple cotton dress looking about fifteen, with wide, innocent blue eyes; Annie cold and faintly masculine in her dark grey policewoman’s suit; Annie kneeling on a bed, leaning forward, seductive in a lacy slip which showed her small breasts and a lot of her smooth, pale skin, her lips parted in a soft gasp of invitation, her eyes shimmering sensually; Annie in jeans and a black leather jacket looking tough and competent.