CHAPTER ONE
‘THERE’S more to relationships than sex, Zo,’ announced her best friend with energy. ‘You’ve got to be a bit more flexible.’ In the act of filling the kettle, Zoe Brown looked up and stared in disbelief. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she said. ‘Where did that come from?’
Suze had rushed into the old-fashioned kitchen like a whirlwind, casting her briefcase to one side and her shopping bags to the other. She had not even sat down before she launched her bombshell. Now she perched on the settle against the wall with a small, complacent smile.
‘I don’t know what it is that Simon’s done…’ She paused expectantly.
Zoe cast her eyes to heaven. ‘Is there anything you don’t think is your business? What did you do? Stake out my house? Tap my phone?’
Suze grinned. But she was not to be deflected. ‘Don’t be coy. I don’t have to spy on you to know what you’re up to. We have no secrets.’
If only you knew, Suze.
Zoe found she had over-filled the kettle. She emptied some water out, and then switched the thing on before turning back to her friend.
‘I knew something was wrong,’ Suze announced loftily. Then added, with a slight diminution of ineffability, ‘Besides, Simon called me.’
Well, that figured, thought Zoe. Suze had introduced her and Simon Frobisher in the first place. Simon was a member of Suze’s Young Business Network. It was natural that he should confide in her when his fledgling romance with Zoe hit the buffers.
‘Have you two had a row?’
‘Not really,’ said Zoe uncomfortably. ‘We talked, but—’
Suze sighed theatrically. ‘You talked!’ she echoed. ‘And another one bites the dust! I don’t believe you.’
Zoe looked away. ‘Is he very upset?’ she said with compunction.
Suze pursed her lips. ‘Confused is probably a better word,’ she pronounced.
‘I’m sorry about that.’
‘It’s understandable. He’s a scarce commodity and he knows it. Single, straight, solvent. And a business that’s going to make him a millionaire in the next five years. From his point of view, it’s a seller’s market.’
Zoe felt slightly better. ‘You mean he isn’t breaking his heart?’
In contrast to Zoe, who was barefoot in dusty cut-offs and a torn tee shirt, Suze was dressed in a business suit. But she kicked her legs against the settle like the five-year-old she had been when they’d first met at kindergarten.
‘No, but he’s scratching his head. He muttered something about sex…’ Again Suze left an inviting pause.
‘Did he?’ Zoe’s tone was discouraging.
‘Aw, come on, Zo. Give.’
‘Have a coffee,’ said Zoe firmly.
She made instant coffee in two thick china mugs and padded across the kitchen with them. Suze took hers, but she frowned with irritation.
‘I mean, you can’t keep going through men like they grow on trees.’ Her voice was full of righteous indignation. ‘Quite apart from anything else, it’s not fair to the rest of us.’
Zoe gave a hollow laugh. ‘Is that right?’
Suze did not notice it was hollow. ‘And it’s beastly inconvenient. I never know who you’re going to bring to a party.’
Zoe pushed back her untidy brown curls and hitched herself up onto the corner of the cluttered table. ‘Well, if that’s all you’re worried about—’
‘Or if you’re going to bring anyone at all. And what he will be like if you do.’
‘I’ll make sure to send you the next one’s resumé,’ Zoe said dryly.
Suze Manoir grinned. ‘Or you could just stick to the same man for more than a couple of dates,’ she suggested. ‘That would be a first.’
Oh, Lord, thought Zoe. Aloud she said, ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Oh, you,’ said Suze, exasperated. ‘Okay. I’ll mind my own business. What do we need to do to get this house sorted?’
‘Just about everything,’ said Zoe wryly. ‘Starting with rewiring and moving on up.’
The kitchen of the Brown family house was big and untidy. Just at the moment about a third of it looked beautiful. A wild green arrangement of leafy summer branches and ferns hid the peeling paintwork round the fireplace and the stains on the old pine table. Zoe had set out dishes of roast beef, and the Thai chicken and vegetable salads that she had prepared yesterday, all covered in plastic wrap. She had even set little groups of solid candles, ready for lighting, on the fireplace and one corner of the table.
But that was the far end of the kitchen. The other two thirds, where they were sitting, looked like a shipwreck. A pretty shabby shipwreck at that, thought Zoe ruefully.
She and her sister had slapped a coat of paint on the walls at Christmas, just to make it look more cheerful. But the whole house had a patched and mended air. Whereas Suze had shown an interior decorator round her central London pad for a television lifestyle programme, and the Manoir house was immaculately presented.
Suze followed her eyes. ‘Hey,’ she said gently, showing that in this area, at least, she was right that they had no secrets. ‘So it’s a bit battered. Don’t worry about it. That’s why we’re having the party here, after all.’
‘Good point,’ agreed Zoe. ‘Okay, let’s kick back and party.’
From the moment that they’d taken charge of their own birthday celebrations, Suze and Zoe had given a joint party at Zoe’s house. They chose a day in the summer, when hopefully people would be able to go out into the garden, and called it their Official Birthday. Suze said that the arrangement gave her more freedom than her parents’ house and more room than her own flat. But Zoe knew it was more than that.