‘Anyway,’ he said, clearing his throat and backing away a little. ‘I’ll probably see you tomorrow. Will you have made that list of dates and places by then?’
‘Yes, I should have.’ I followed him to the front door, knees slightly wobbly from the kiss.
‘Great!’ He turned and smiled. ‘Goodnight, Rachel.’
‘Goodnight.’
I watched him walk down the dark path to his car. Rain slanted sideways in the glow of the streetlamp, and he pulled up his collar as a gust of wind shook the bushes at the side of my garden. I told myself I was watching him leave out of politeness, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he unlocked his car door and climbed inside. He raised his hand and I shut the door, pressing my back to it and touching my lips, which still tingled from his kiss. Oh God, what was happening to me? What was I doing? I felt like a hormonal teenager with a raging crush. This wasn’t like me at all.
‘So you’ve had to make a list of all the places you went with Patrick?’ Bobbi said as she arranged a bouquet of pink roses and cream stocks. ‘I bet that didn’t make you feel very happy, did it?’
‘Not really, but what’s done is done.’ I tapped a pen on the order pad and stared out of the window at the drizzly rain. It was only just after lunchtime, but the cars driving past already had their headlights on. My mood was as gloomy as the weather.
‘I’m really rather proud I’m the only one who got to meet Patrick,’ Bobbi went on, wrapping a cream ribbon around the base of the stems.
‘Only briefly. You didn’t even speak to him, did you?’
‘I know, but I still got to see him. Your mum was so jealous, do you remember?’
I grunted, feeling guilty again. Patrick had caused a lot of resentment between me and my parents. ‘When was that, anyway? It was quite early on, wasn’t it? Back last winter?’
‘Yes, January, I think. It was really cold and rainy, and I’d already left to get my bus, but I’d forgotten my bag so I had to come back. He’d parked his big, posh car outside the shop and was holding an umbrella over your head as you locked up. I remember thinking it looked really romantic, like something off one of those old-fashioned romantic postcards.’
I scowled, not wanting to remember details like that. Better to remember him as a selfish bastard who never turned up or called than a romantic hero, protecting me from the rain. All the same, memories of that night bombarded my brain, with Patrick being at his most charming and funny. We’d eaten dinner at a country pub a few miles away and then he’d stayed at mine until Sunday afternoon. It was only one of a handful of times we’d spent the whole weekend together. Usually he’d have to leave the day after, or even the same night on one occasion. I pulled the piece of paper I’d noted down the dates on from my pocket to check it was on the list. The date was there but the details of where we’d been were missing. The trouble was, I’d spent the last few months trying to forget him, so wilfully remembering every detail and writing them down in chronological order was quite an effort. With a sigh, I noted down where we’d been and the fact he’d stayed all weekend.
‘If I tell Anthony I met him, do you think he’d take me for dinner, too?’ Bobbi asked.
I laughed. ‘You could give it a try. He’s a bit old for you, though.’
‘Oh yeah, he’s way too old for me. What is he, like, forty or something?’
‘He’s thirty-five, I think.’
‘He’s not too old for you then?’
‘No, but I’m part of the investigation, depressingly enough, so even if we wanted to be together, which we don’t,’ I lied, ‘we couldn’t anyway.’
Bobbi looked at me in surprise. ‘But you do want to be with him, don’t you?’
I thought about last night’s kiss and tried to remember my reasons for not wanting to be with him. I’d give myself a stern talking to last night, after he left. He’d already mislead to gain information about Patrick and I needed to protect myself. ‘Not since I found out he lied to me.’
‘He didn’t really lie, did he? He told you he was a detective.’
‘Yes, but he left out the bit about how he was investigating my ex-boyfriend and then proceeded to ask me questions about him.’
‘That’s quite clever, though, isn’t it? Because then he’d be able to gauge how you felt about the police and if you had any idea Patrick was up to no good.’
I shot her a look. ‘I don’t think it’s strictly ethical, though.’
‘Well, no, but I really like him,’ Bobbi said, cheerfully. ‘Not just because he’s handsome, but he has a nice aura about him.’
‘Aura? What are you talking about?’
‘You know, the feel you get off him. He’s just so pleasant and nicely spoken. He seems like a real gentleman.’ She leaned on the counter, and looked at me appraisingly. ‘You’d look good together.’
‘Oh yes? Why’s that then?’
‘You’re both so old-fashioned.’
‘Old-fashioned? This is retro, darling. Vintage. It’s not old-fashioned,’ I said, indicating my 1940s-style swing dress. It was one of my favourites, blue with cream birds. I’d worn it to try and cheer myself up. ‘And he’s not exactly old-fashioned. That suit’s probably handmade from some tailor in Savile Row.’
‘No, but he’s got an old-fashioned charm about him. He’s so polite and well-mannered. Not like most men you meet today. Most men are like “Get your tits out, darlin’”, but I bet he’d be like “I wonder if you might possibly consider showing me your breasts?”’
‘Bobbi!’ I squeaked, starting to laugh. ‘What kind of men do you know? Besides, it’s probably his work persona. I was thinking before that’s probably how he gets people to confess. Charms it out of them.’
‘I’m sure he likes you, though,’ Bobbi said. ‘You can tell by the way he looks at you. He’s got a right twinkle in his eye.’
‘He has not.’ I touched my lips where he’d kissed me last night. ‘Besides, you only saw him yesterday before he dragged me off to the police station, and he looked guilty and uncomfortable.’
‘He hardly dragged you off, and he couldn’t take his eyes off you.’
‘He looked shifty.’ I drew in a breath and let it out as a sigh. ‘I’m so fed-up today. I could scream. Why can’t I find a nice, uncomplicated man?’
‘You’ve been out with nice, uncomplicated men in the past,’ Bobbi pointed out. ‘But then you got bored.’
‘How about a nice, uncomplicated man who’s not boring then?’
‘Maybe Anthony is boring.’
‘Yes, I bet he is,’ I said savagely. ‘I bet he’s really bad in bed, too.’
‘Bound to be.’ Bobbi nodded in agreement and then gave me a sideways glance that said she didn’t believe a word of it. I didn’t either. My thoughts returned to the kiss in the bar and I sighed longingly before trying to conceal it by turning it into a yawn. I was really tired today.