Chapter Thirty-One
Three pairs of female eyes watched the barman walk away.
‘Nice bum,’ said Amber.
‘Very,’ Chrissie whispered.
‘Not as nice as Harry’s,’ Dee murmured.
‘Harry? Harry? Hellooo!’ Amber yodelled. ‘Your boyfriend is called Josh. Remember?’
‘Yeah.’ Dee leant back in her chair, eyeballs glazing with lust as she remembered the handsome face of the private investigator.
‘So who’s Harry?’ Amber demanded.
‘Harrison Hunter-Brown. He’s a detective. He has his own agency – an extremely successful one if his premises are anything to go by. I’ve hired him to trail Josh and find out where his mistress lives.’
Amber’s face cleared. ‘Ah.’
‘Harrison told me to call him Harry,’ explained Dee, in the same awed tone a monk might say, “I’ve met God and He told me to call Him Fred.’
Amber leant forward in her seat. Her expression was one of concern. ‘Are you doing the right thing, Dee? Listen, I know how you feel. I’d dance naked on that bar counter over there if it meant finding out more about the woman Matthew is seeing. Not because I want him back, but because I’d like to give the cheeky tart a good slap for coming into my house and leaving her diamond calling card between my sheets. That was a deliberate act on her part. She wanted me to find it.’ Amber looked suitably outraged as she recalled the unhappy moment of discovering Matthew had brought another woman into her house. ‘However, I’d rather do my own detective work than run up a bill paying someone else. This guy won’t be cheap.’
‘I can hardly trail Josh myself,’ Dee protested.
‘Why not?’
‘Because…because,’ Dee shrugged. ‘One,’ she ticked off her fingers, ‘I don’t want to be seen. Two, I’d have to take time off work, which in itself would make Josh suspicious. Three, even if I did take a couple of days’ holiday to spy on Josh, there is no guarantee he’d go to Emma’s in that time frame. He might simply go to work. The last thing I want to do is hide behind lamp posts, simply to watch Josh abseiling down buildings with a bucket and sponge.
‘Even so,’ said Amber, ‘losing a couple of days’ holiday is cheaper than forking out on this Harry person.’
At the mention of his name again, Dee’s eyes took on a faraway look. Harrison Hunter-Brown was the most gorgeous man she’d ever met. He’d given her hot sweet tea and listened sympathetically. Then he’d outlined, in his sexy deep voice, a simple plan on trailing Josh and finding out Emma’s address. He’d asked Dee what she planned to do with the information. She’d replied honestly that she didn’t know, but she’d promised there would be no “crime of passion”. Josh would live to bonk another day. Harry’s eyes had twinkled with amusement and – something else, but what? It had made Dee quite flustered and possibly Harry had noticed, because he’d steered the conversation to costs – which had made Dee’s heart gallop for different reasons. However, he’d assured her fees would only be incurred when she texted Harry with the thumbs up for surveillance. Dee had then shown Harry some pictures of Josh that she’d had on her mobile phone, and he’d transferred them to his computer along with details of Josh’s van and registration number.
With yanked her mind back to the present to answer Amber’s question. ‘Hiring a detective is just something I need to do,’ she said with a shrug.
‘And what will you do when you discover Emma’s address?’
‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’
‘So what’s he like?’ Amber asked.
‘Who?’
‘Philip Schofield.’
‘Eh?’
‘I’m being flippant,’ said Amber. ‘Honestly, Dee. We’ve come out to catch up on what’s been going on, but trying to get the whole picture from you is comparable to pulling weeds out of concrete. But don’t worry, you’re not alone.’ Amber nodded at Chrissie who appeared to have gone into a trance. Their friend was staring at the wood burner with a glazed expression. ‘What’s going on with Dopy Dora all of a sudden?’
‘She’s in shock.’
‘Must be delayed. She was all right earlier. So, you were saying?’
‘What was I saying?’
Amber sighed. ‘I want to know about Harry. What does he look like?’
Dee promptly went all pink in the face. How did you describe someone so sensational? He was the absolute cliché of tall, dark and handsome. He wouldn’t look out of place on a filmset. Dee could imagine it now…Harry on the red carpet for his latest movie premiere, a camera crew filming his every move, an over-excited female presenter telling an audience of thousands…no, millions, ‘Here he is! The biggest star in Hollywood, Harrison Hunter-Brown. Oh…and wait…here’s his wife, Dee. He won’t go anywhere without her–’
‘Dee? Dee!’ said Amber in frustration, as the barman returned with their tray of drinks.
‘Absolutely divine,’ Dee gushed, as their drinks were placed on the low table.
‘I’ve heard gin and tonics described as many things, but never “divine”,’ grinned the barman.
Chrissie momentarily snapped out of her trance. ‘Y-yes. Quite d-divine,’ she stuttered.
‘Welcome back to Planet Earth,’ said Amber, sarcastically. ‘My friend is having a bad time,’ she confided to the barman. ‘Well, we’re all having a bad time, but in Chrissie’s case she’s having a really, really, really bad time.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said the barman, his gaze resting upon Chrissie. Her eyes locked on his and she found she couldn’t tear them away. Her hand patted its way forward for her drink – and promptly knocked it over.
‘Oh dear,’ she said, blushing furiously and flapping her hand about to dry – and sending the other two glasses flying. She stared in dismay at the three upturned tumblers and liquid puddling in all directions so it dripped off the table to the polished floorboards below. ‘I’m so s-sorry,’ she stammered.
‘It’s not a problem, really,’ said the barman. ‘I have some industrial-sized rolls of tissue under the counter. Let me go and grab one.’
‘Better bring two,’ said Amber slyly, ‘she needs an entire one to mop her brow.’
Chrissie went from pink to scarlet. As soon as the barman was out of earshot, she rounded on Amber. ‘Did you have to embarrass me further?’
‘It was a joke!’
‘At my expense.’
‘What’s up with you all of a sudden?’ Amber frowned.
‘I don’t want…oh look out, he’s coming back.’ Chrissie stood up to take the roll from the barman but, as her hand brushed against his, she was belted with another round of thousand-watt volts and stumbled backwards – on Amber’s toe. Amber yelped, and Chrissie shot forward cannoning painfully into the low table. She lost her balance, smacking down on its surface. There was a moment’s silence where the entire pub went quiet. All eyes were on the young woman sprawled over an occasional table which, seconds later, collapsed because one of the legs had splintered. Everything, including Chrissie, hit the floor with an almighty crash.
‘Oh my goodness,’ said the barman to a mortified Chrissie. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes,’ she squeaked. Dear God. Get her out of here. Sod the gin and tonic. She didn’t even like the drink. She wanted to go home, get into bed, and pull the covers over her head. Mind you, she’d probably set fire to her duvet because her face was now aflame. She’d never felt so humiliated.
‘Take my hand,’ said the barman.
‘N-no. I’m fine,’ said Chrissie, struggling to get up. Her backside was soaking wet from all the spilt gin and tonic. She looked like she’d wet herself.
‘I insist,’ said the barman, holding his hand out.
Chrissie regarded it in terror. If she so much as touched one finger, she’d probably self-combust and the entire pub would implode.
Suddenly she was being hauled up by Amber, who was whispering discreetly in her ear.
‘For heaven’s sake, Chrissie. Get a grip. Go to the Ladies and dry yourself off on the hand dryer, and try not to pull it off the wall in the process.’
Chrissie didn’t need telling twice. She fled.
Dee stared at the knackered table and glasses rolling across the floor. Her mouth was a perfectly formed O. ‘Flaming Nora. Chrissie definitely isn’t herself tonight.’
‘Like I said,’ Amber smiled at barman, ‘my friend is having a terrible time.’
‘Isn’t she just,’ he said, looking bemused. He snapped his fingers at two members of staff behind the bar. They hurried over.
‘Want this taking away, Jack?’
‘Yes, please. And fetch another tray of drinks. Three gin and tonics.’
‘Our bar bill is going to be horrendous,’ Amber joked. So, his name was Jack. She’d be sure to let Chrissie know. Amber wasn’t daft. It was as obvious as the nose on her face that there had been chemistry arcing through the air. Unfortunately for Chrissie, it had turned her into a one-woman wrecking ball.
‘All drinks tonight are on the house,’ said Jack. ‘After all, that table was ancient, and I don’t want to get sued.’
‘Oh don’t worry,’ joked Amber, ‘we’d sue the Landlord, not you.’
‘That would still be me,’ said Jack. ‘This is my pub. I own it.’ He ripped off a long ribbon of industrial tissue and began mopping.
Amber was momentarily speechless. Good looking and with a sound business under his belt. Not that money should matter, of course, but it would be nice for Chrissie to have a little flirt with a guy who happened to have a few quid, rather than a penniless jerk like Andrew.
‘Fortunately there’s no shattered glass,’ said Jack, balling up sodden paper. He looked up as Chrissie re-appeared and sat down in her chair. ‘And thankfully no broken bones either, eh?’
Chrissie nodded. Best not to speak. Her face was still bright pink. She shoved her hands under her thighs. Maybe keep them out the way. She didn’t want to inadvertently touch the barman again. For some bizarre reason, his effect on her had been devastating in every sense.
‘This is Jack,’ said Amber. ‘He’s going to replace both the table and our drinks. Isn’t that kind of him?’
Chrissie smiled by way of acknowledgement. If the wretched man could hurry up and then go away, that would be absolutely marvellous. She didn’t want him anywhere near her. She averted her eyes and pretended to be fascinated by the overhead light.
Minutes later, the table had been replaced and the women had fresh drinks.
‘Anything else I can get you, ladies?’ asked Jack.
‘Some crisps would be nice,’ said Amber cheekily.
‘Any particular flavour?’ asked Jack, although his eyes were back on Chrissie.
‘Salt and vinegar, please,’ said Dee.
‘Cheese and onion,’ said Amber.
Chrissie risked taking her eyes off the light fitting. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘You’re welcome. So, is that cheese and onion for you too? Or salt and vinegar?’
‘Yes,’ Chrissie nodded. ‘Cheese and vinegar. Perfect.’
‘Get her both,’ said Amber to the bemused Jack.
‘Coming right up.’
As he walked away, Chrissie exhaled. Perhaps she should refrain from eating any crisps while that man was about. She didn’t want to end up choking on them too.
‘So,’ said Amber, clapping her hands and making both Chrissie and Dee jump. ‘Just look at the pair of you.’
‘Why?’ said Dee, looking confused.
Amber leant forward so she could speak without being overheard. ‘What I’m talking about,’ she said in a conspiratorial tone, ‘is that before Chrissie’s floor show, you couldn’t say the name “Harry” without going ga-ga, and this one here,’ Amber nodded at Chrissie, ‘has now had exactly the same thing happen to her, thanks to the gorgeous Jack over there.’ At the mention of Jack’s name, Chrissie began to colour up again. ‘Am I right, or am I right?’ Amber smirked. ‘I’ve just said the names “Harry” and “Jack” and two sets of eyeballs have dilated to the size of dustbin lids.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ whispered Dee, but her reply carried no conviction.
‘That’s a ridiculous thing to say,’ said Chrissie, but her voice had a quaver to it.
‘I reckon,’ said Amber, with wide-eyed innocence, ‘my two besties have fallen head over heels in lust.’