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'Zoe, I have to go to London unexpectedly, so I won't see you this evening. Ring Sancha and she'll come over to spend the evening there, if you have any trouble. If that guy comes back, don't open the door, call the police.' A pause, then his voice dropped intimately, making pulses hammer at her wrists and neck. 'Goodnight, Zoe. See you.'
A click and he was gone, and she sat down, her legs wobbly under her. She w
asn't a schoolgirl, for heaven's sake! Why should she feel disappointed just because he wasn't coming tonight? It was stupid. She didn't need him, or want him. She had lived alone for a long time; she was used to taking care of herself. She didn't need anybody.
She made herself start eating, drank her wine, cleared the table, loaded the dishwasher, then went up to bed, undressed rapidly, crawled between the covers and shut her eyes. She would not think about Connel. Images of him flickered like moths in the dark, but she resolutely ignored them.
Luckily, her weariness of mind and body meant she was soon asleep, a heavy, exhausted sleep; and if she dreamt she didn't remember it next morning.
The rest of that week went slowly by; she didn't hear from Connel again, but several times Sancha came to check up on her after she got back from work, scolding her about how tired she looked and how pale she was— was she having headaches? Wasn't she sleeping, was she eating?
'You have no sense!' she sighed one evening, shaking her head.
Zoe shook her head back. 'Stop worrying. I'm fine! Go home and take care of your kids, and stop hassling me!'
'No gratitude!' complained her sister. 'Look, I'll clear your supper things and start the dishwasher. Then, if you're sure you're okay, I'll get back.'
'You don't need to do anything, I'll manage,' Zoe said, but was told to sit down.
'It won't take me a minute.' A few minutes later the kitchen was spotless again. As she walked to the front door, Sancha asked, 'You are coming to Connel's party, aren't you?'
Trying not to sound as if she cared, Zoe said offhandedly, 'I haven't been invited!'
Looking surprised, Sancha said, 'He told us you'd be coming. He must have forgotten to ask you, just assumed you'd be there.'
'Typical of the man—always taking things for granted!'
'Shall I ring him and point out that he forgot to invite you?'
Going dark red, Zoe snapped, 'Don't you dare!'
Sancha smiled at her. 'Your problem is, you have too much pride! I know he meant to ask you—but he was called to London on urgent business and he's been there ever since. The party must have gone right out of his head.'
'Maybe he'll cancel it?'
'No, he talked to Mark this morning and said it was still on. He asked how you were, too.'
Trying to look indifferent, Zoe raised her brows. 'Oh?'
'That's one reason I came over this evening—Connel asked Mark if I was checking up on how you were.'
'And Mark said?'
'He said yes, and told me I'd better come over today because if you had died without anyone finding you, Connel might sack him.' The glint of amusement in Sancha's eyes made it clear she didn't mean that seriously.
Crossly amused, Zoe said, 'Oh, that's marvellous! And I thought you came because you loved me!'
Sancha grinned at her. 'You know I do. I'd have come anyway, if Mark hadn't insisted. I just thought you'd like to know Connel was still taking an interest in you.'
'Why should I care what he takes an interest in?'
Her sister gave her a wry look as she opened the front door, then shivered as a gust of cold night air hit her. 'There's a wind getting up; the weather's turning cold. It will be winter before we know it Mark was talking about a skiing trip after Christmas—now that Flora's older we can take all the children. Why don't you come? We could all share one of those chalets with a maid— no housework or cooking for me, and the après ski is such fun.'
Zoe grimaced. 'With Flora around? Do me a favour.'
'She's growing up, Zoe! She's changing every day.
Playschool has made a big difference to her. She's learnt to share with other children and she doesn't have tantrums any more.'
