Truly Madly Guilty

He stopped, hands on his hips, catching his breath and watching her approach. He couldn't see her face yet, but he knew exactly how she'd be driving, hunched over the wheel like a little old lady, two deep lines between her eyebrows; she didn't like driving in the rain.

Her frown was the first thing he'd noticed about her when they worked together, long before they did the squash competition draw together. He didn't know why he found it so appealing; maybe because it indicated that she took life seriously, like him, that she cared and she concentrated, she didn't just float along the surface, having a great time. He'd never told her that. Women wanted to be noticed for their eyes, not their frowns.

She must not have lingered at Clementine's after she'd delivered her news.

The car pulled up on the side of the road. She wound down the window and bent over the passenger seat to look up at him anxiously.

'You shouldn't run in this weather!' she shouted. 'You could slip! You haven't even finished your antibiotics.'

He headed over to the car, opened the door and got in next to her. The car was warm. She had the heater cranked up.

Water slid off him, pooling all around him on the leather seat. He could feel it squelching. He was reminded of the night they pulled Ruby from the fountain; how they'd worked together, how they hadn't needed to talk, they'd just acted. They were a good team.

Erika sat, still hunched over the steering wheel, studying him silently, frowning ferociously.

He put his hand to the side of her face.

'Sorry,' he said, going to draw it away. 'I'm all wet.'

But she grabbed it back, and tilted her warm face into the palm of his cold hand.

chapter seventy-five

Vid's house was full of people and music and the smell of good food, which was what he liked, what he loved. What was the point in having a big house like this unless you filled it with people?

The occasion was no occasion. What did you need an occasion for? You didn't! It was spur of the moment. He'd made some phone calls and now the house was full. It was still raining, of course, but that didn't mean all the fun had to stop, they were warm and dry in here, the rain would not stop them from living their lives! They should do this more often! They should do it every weekend!

All four of his daughters were here tonight, and at this point they were all talking to him, a rare and wonderful event. Of course his older girls all wanted something from him but so be it. That was parenting.

Adrianna wanted him to agree to do a choreographed father and daughter dance at her wedding. It would be filmed and then she'd post it on YouTube. It was her dream to go viral. He would do this, of course, although he was pretending he hated the idea. (He already had a few moves in mind.)

Eva and Elena wanted money, he assumed, and of course they would get it. He'd transfer it into their accounts tonight, after they left. All that was in question was how much. He would see how their negotiating skills were developing. Eva would get hysterical within seconds. He'd been trying to explain to her that hysteria was not an effective negotiating tactic ever since she was two years old.

His baby, Dakota, didn't want anything. She was happy again, although he hadn't realised just how sad the poor little angel had got. Tiffany's idea of turning up at the cellist's house had been excellent, even though they had never even offered them a drink. It had been wonderful to see little Ruby so happy and healthy after the terribleness of that night. It had been a giant weight off his back. He had walked out of that tiny cramped house feeling straighter and lighter (also thirsty).

Clementine and Sam had been silent and strange but they had invited Dakota to Holly's birthday party! Hopefully they'd remember to feed their guests. He'd take some food along, just in case. He was hopeful they might all still be friends. Tiffany was not as hopeful as him. She said only Dakota was invited to the birthday party, not them. She said it was probably a 'drop-off party'. He didn't know what she was talking about. He would take meatballs, maybe. A case of champagne.

'You having fun?' said Tiffany, meeting him in the kitchen as they both collected more plates of food to pass around.

'No! Why do we do this? I just wanted a quiet night at home and look! The house is filled with all these people wanting to be fed! How did this happen?'

'I have no idea. It's a mystery.' Tiffany closed the fridge door with her hip and smiled up at him, both her hands filled with trays. 'Apparently the sun is coming out tomorrow. We should invite everyone to stay the night and have a barbeque lunch tomorrow. Continue the party all weekend!'

'Excellent idea,' said Vid. He knew she was joking but he was wondering if this was a possibility.

He kissed her and stuck in his tongue just to make her say, 'Vid!' except she gave back as good as she got. She liked to surprise him. 'Jesus, get a room,' said his cousin, walking into the kitchen and straight out again.

Tiffany raised an eyebrow and sashayed off with an exaggerated swing of the hips just for him.

There was something else making Vid happy. To do with Tiffany. What was it? Was his mind losing its edge? No! His mind was a steel trap. Of course. That little matter of the dickhead. It was all under control. Yesterday she'd come home from Dakota's new school and said that she'd run into the wife of that old client of hers and they weren't coming to Saint Anastasias after all.

This was good because he knew she'd slept with that dickhead.

He knew it because of her left nostril.

Vid played poker once a month with a group of friends. His friend Raymond had told him years ago how poker players tried to work out each other's 'tells': the little giveaways that showed when they were bluffing. Raymond said, 'You, my friend, have about a dozen tells. You blink, you wink, you twitch, you virtually have a seizure, you are the worst bluffer in the world.'

Vid did okay at poker though, because he might have been the worst bluffer in the world but he had the best luck. He drew great hands. He'd always been lucky. He had great luck in business, he h