Page 43 of The Player

“It’ll keep,” he says. A car pulls into the car park, and he looks at his watch and curses. “They’re here early. I’ve got to go.”

I give him a push. “Go. I’m off to see Joan and check how she is. George can come and help you then.”

He nods and opens the door and then reaches back and grabs my wrist. “It’s the summer hop today,” he says. “I’m playing, and I can’t get out of it.”

“It’s fine,” I say, and he smiles almost nervously.

“Will you come?”

“Where? To the dance?”

He nods. “Please. I’m playing, but you know everyone.” He pauses. “I’d like to see you there,” he says in an almost formal fashion that shouldn’t make my fingers tremble as much as they do.

“Okay,” I say breathlessly, and he smiles, dropping a kiss on my fingers.

“Con,” a voice says from behind him, and he salutes me with two fingers and a whimsical expression before turning to face the customer as his genial self.

I watch them walk into the building, laughing together, and then stir myself. I grab my bag from the back of the truck, and fumbling for my keys, I chuck it into my car. I lock Con’s truck and head into the building. Mandy is on the phone, probably doing her first gossip update of the day, so avoiding her curious look, I leave the keys with her with a note to give them to Con. Then I flee the building.

Joan’s cottage is a few minutes’ walk away, but I take in the air and the peace gratefully. I can’t quite work out what is happening with Con and me. I know we came on each other in the most erotic encounter I’ve ever had, and I know he’s looking at me with a new look in his eyes today, but what does it mean? Are we together? Would he even like that? And what about Tim?

My heart sinks. I’m ashamed to admit I forgot all about him last night. I’ve never been a cheater because it’s been done to me, and I’m horrified that I’ve now done it to someone else. Iwouldn’t have put it at Con’s door either. At first, I’d believed David when he told me what a player Con was, but instead, it was my husband who turned out to be the player. Con is very different. He’s steadfast and loyal, and it’s somewhat ironic that it was my husband who introduced me to someone who has become my whole world since I met him.

I shake my head of my thoughts when I come to Joan’s home. It’s a small cottage with casement windows that gleam in the sunlight. I put my hand up to knock on the door, but George opens it before I can complete the gesture.

“How is she?” I ask immediately.

He smiles, and I relax. “She’s fine, Frankie. A bit sore, but you know how hard-headed she is.”

“I heard that,” comes Joan’s irate voice from the lounge, and I grin.

I look at him, carrying his jacket. “You going straight into work?”

He nods. “Con will need me there, so I’ll go in if you’re here to watch her.”

“I don’t need watching,” she calls, and I shake my head.

“I see it’s my misfortune to have drawn the short straw of watching her while she’s conscious.”

George breaks into loud laughter that nearly but not entirely covers up Joan’s indignant squark.

He claps me gently on the back and sets off down the street. I watch him go for a second before closing the door and heading into the lounge.

I find Joan lying on her sofa, a blanket over her feet. She’s pale with a bandage over her forehead and a cast on her wrist, but her eyes are as sharp as ever, and I smile at her in relief.

I throw my pinstripe jacket on the chair. “Can I sign your plaster?”

“Only if you write down the full story of what happened with you and Con.”

I inhale and choke on my spit. “What?” I croak.

She leans back against her pillows. “Get talking,” she commands me. “We’ve just got time before David Dickinson’sReal Dealstarts.”

“It’s nice to know I come before him. Is that because if he visited you, his spray tan might camouflage him against the mahogany furniture?”

“Such a handsome man,” she says dreamily. “That mane of hair.”

I shudder. “And those teeth.”

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