Page 44 of The Player

I settle down in the chair and take a look at her. She has a small table drawn next to the sofa that has a carafe of iced water on it along with some chocolates and a packet of expensive biscuits, both from the deli down the road.

“Someone’s looking after you,” I observe and stare at her as she blushes. “Joan?” I say questioningly.

She waves a hand at me. “Oh hush,” she says. “It was just George looking after me.”

Hank Marvin flutters into the room and greets me with a chirp. “Oh, George,” he intones in a falsetto voice. “You’re so handsome.”

“Hank Marvin,” Joan gasps, going bright red.

I look between her and the bird and then start to laugh. “Oh my god,” I snort. “Busted by a parrot.” I straighten up and fold my arms. “And how long has this been going on between you two, young lady?” I say in a stern voice. “I think it’s time I had a little chat with young George about his intentions.”

She gives me a distinctly unimpressed look, and I start laughing again.

When I’ve sobered, I look up at her. “When did that start?” I hold up a hand. “And don’t even try to deny it.”

“This weekend,” she finally says. “He took me for a walk and kissed me behind the church.”

“Is that a euphemism?” I dodge the pillow she chucks at me and smile at her. “I’m really pleased. I’ve been saying for ages that he’s sweet on you, and now look at me. I hope you listen a lot more to me, Joan. I am obviously a dating sage.”

“You’re about as much of a dating sage as Peter Stringfellow.”

“Ouch.”

“How can you be?” she continues. “When you’ve been in love with your best friend for years and never realised it.”

That stops me dead. “That’s so silly,” I say heartily. I look around for a diversion. “Oh, look,” I cry. “David Dickinson is on. Wait. Joan, what are you doing?” I stare at her as she clicks the TV off.

“Desperate times call for no David Dickinson,” she says solemnly. “Now, tell me what’s going on because I know something’s happened. George says he was with you this morning.”

“You’re a couple of gossips.” She raises one eyebrow, and I bite my lip. “Okay, something did happen.” I pause. “And I have no idea why I’m whispering.”

“Because it’s important.” I look at her, and she shrugs. “Of course it’s important. It’s Con. He’s the most important person in your life.”

I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. “He is. Why didn’t I see it?”

“Because you weren’t ready,” she says steadily.

“Do you think it’s wrong?” I whisper.

Her look of incredulity reassures me immediately. “No. What a silly thing to say. Why would it be wrong?”

“Because he’s with Tim.”

She snorts. “He’s as much with Tim as I am with Robert Redford.”

I jerk. “What?”

“I admit it’s not for want of Tim trying, but Con has his sights fully set on someone else.” She shakes her head. “Frankie, I sometimes wonder if you have eyes in your head.”

“I have,” I say huffily. “All the better to see Lucy Scrimshaw coming.”

“What’s really bothering you?”

“He’s my dead husband’s best friend. It’s not loyal.”

She smiles sadly at me. “Frankie, the only person who wasn’t loyal was David.” She leans forward. “I loved him. We all did. We always will. But I believe in being honest, and David wasn’t built for long-lasting relationships. He was wild and the best fun you could ask for.”

“He certainly was that,” I say, and she shakes her head.

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