Part 40 (1/2)

Pat x.x.x FROM: Patrick M Riley SUBJECT: Talk to me?

TO: Rosie Denham SENT: July 31 14.59 Rosie, you're not picking up my calls on your new cell. Did I get the number wrong? Do you have a problem with your laptop, too? On the blink again?

Pat X A casual email asking if I was okay. The mention of my laptop, was it on the blink again? So he must have realised he'd blown it, had decided he might like to see me if he came to London, if he wanted casual s.e.x. We will be forever in your debt. You need me, I'll be there. Did I dream it, or was that what Patrick Riley said?

He clearly hadn't meant a word of it.

PATRICK.

It looked like I messed up. Rosie didn't reply to emails. When I rang her cell phone she refused to take my calls. Or I was calling the wrong number. She ignored my texts.

I guess if I was calling the wrong number, the person who was getting all my stuff would be deleting it? The chances were they wouldn't call me back.

I was worried now, so worried that I called her parents on their landline. When her mother finally picked up, she sounded very cross. But she didn't sound distressed. So that was a relief.

'No, Professor Riley, Rosie isn't here,' she snapped, like she was talking to a disobedient dog.

'I'm sorry to disturb you, Mrs Denham, but she isn't taking calls from me. Please could you a.s.sure me she's okay?'

'She was very well four hours ago. Mr Riley, if my daughter wished to speak to you, I'm sure she'd get in touch. This is a very antisocial time to ring, you know. It's the middle of the night.'

'I'm sorry if I woke you.'

'You did, and now I'll find it very difficult to sleep without some form of medication.'

'As I said already, I'm sorry to disturb you, Mrs Denham.'

'Goodnight, Mr Riley.'

August.

ROSIE.

'Just go on ignoring him,' said Tess. 'The man's a total jerk.' She glugged down more red wine and poured a second gla.s.s for me. 'Laptop on the blink again my a.r.s.e.' She glanced towards my laptop, which was fine. 'Look, there's another text.'

Darling, won't you write me?

'Delete?' I asked.

'Of course delete, you m.u.f.fin-head.'

So I clicked delete obediently then took another gulp of my s.h.i.+raz. I'd bought four bottles from the Waitrose in the Edgware Road on my way home and meant to drink them all. 'Tess, do you ever hear from Ben?'

'Yeah, this week he's been emailing and texting fit to bust a gut.'

'What does he say?'

'Let's have a look.' Tess found her phone and started scrolling. 'Oh, the usual rubbish you get from stupid t.o.s.s.e.rs who realise they've messed up. When will you be coming back to Minnesota, darling? Miss you, babe! Honey, won't you call me up some time?'

'My goodness, you can tell the man's a novelist. I hope he's copied all that stuff to whatsername, the woman who'll be writing his authorised biography.'

'So do I. After all, his fans deserve no less. But before this latest lot, I hadn't heard a d.i.c.kybird for months. He didn't answer any of my texts. He didn't seem to care when I took off. But now it seems he's changed his mind. I thought that was a woman's privilege?'

'I never thought I would be dumped by email. I thought at least he'd ring me. Men are all such cowards.'

'But we need them, don't we, for when our girly bits need servicing? Men have the perfect tools to do the job.' Tess sighed. 'I know Ben Fairfax is a git. But for a couple of lovely months, I thought he was the one. I thought meeting him in Vegas had to be my lifetime highlight, that he was Prince Charming, my happy-ever-after.'

'You didn't think that at all.'

'I sort of did, when I was drunk.'

'The trouble is you can't always be drunk. Well, you can, but it's not good for you. It's difficult to put on your mascara while you're drunk.'

'What are we going to do?' asked Tess. 'I'm getting old. I have all these fine lines around my eyes. Or when I smile, I do. I've got others coming round my nose.'

'You haven't any on your actual nose.'

'Of course I haven't any on my actual nose. You'd have to do some serious skin-neglecting to get lines on your nose. I've never seen a wrinkled nose, have you? Well, not on anybody under eighty, anyway.'

'Let's start another bottle,' I suggested.

'Yeah, why don't we?'

'd.a.m.n those Yankees, eh?'

'I'll get the alimony first then I'll d.a.m.n ruddy Ben. Maybe we should find ourselves some British guys? I know this cool club in Dagenham-'

'No, Tess no guys. British, Yankee, aliens from outer s.p.a.ce, none of them are any use to us. Okay, there might be good ones out there somewhere, special pebbles on life's great big beach. But you'd need to s.h.i.+ft a million tons of worthless s.h.i.+ngle before you found a gem.'

'Oh, come on, it's not as bad as that. You're being very gla.s.s-half-empty now.'

'Yes, that's right, I am but at least I haven't dropped the gla.s.s and broken it. I haven't cut my fingers on the shards.' I shook my head and sighed. 'That Y chromosome, it fouls up almost everything. Tess, I promise you, I'm done with men.'

'What are you going to do then, work and work and work like f.a.n.n.y, end up rich and powerful and alone?'

'It might be a plan. But f.a.n.n.y's not alone in any case. She's got her gorgeous Caspar and probably half a dozen lovers, too. The last time I saw f.a.n.n.y, she had a great big knuckle-duster of a brand new ring on her right hand and great big smile on her face. Tess, forget the alimony. You don't need Ben's money.'

'Yes I do.'

'You don't. You're not a parasite, a feeble-minded gold-digger who preys on ghastly men. Listen, sell your diamonds. Get a flat and come and work for me.'

'You mean in your PR business?'

'What else would I mean, you m.u.f.fin-head yourself?'

'You're serious, are you?'