Chapter 40. Machinations
That is, until she saw Ian.
His face was all smiles. He was looking very smart and every bit the country squire in green coat and moleskin breeches. She was glad she’d taken care with her own appearance, but she couldn’t disguise her dismay at the sight of him.
His arms moved to hug her but she refused to halt her stride and so he fell into step beside her.
“I’ve come to pick up the car,” he began, and she cursed herself for not having thought of it.
“It’s around back,” she told him ungraciously.
“You don’t want a car in London,” he said, “The parking alone is a nightmare.”
And Candi must want the car in the country, thought Scarlet, but she managed to say nothing.
Ian fell openmouthed at the sight of the large cobblestoned back court of Miss Bottomley’s residence. Parking was clearly no problem.
“You’ve certainly fallen on your feet,” he murmured. There was enough room for ten cars.
“You’re right,” she said, unlocking the car, “I don’t want a car in London.”
He stood awkwardly by the driver’s side.
“I just wanted to see where you live and perhaps catch a glimpse of Nick.”
Her heart smote her. She should have been ready for this! If she had walked through the kitchen to reach the back court instead of out of the front door she would have driven off without even seeing him! What would Enid and Miss Bottomley have done then? But it was no part of her plan to keep the child from his father.
“I really think you need to make an appointment,” she said, climbing into the passenger seat, “While things are so awkward. Anyway, I must be on my way – I’ve got to see my lawyer.”
She couldn’t resist this last.
“I’ll drop you,” he said amiably.
That would put her at the solicitor’s office far too early.
“I have to go to Foyle’s first,” she admitted so he said, “Get in. I’ll take you.” Mr. Bossy or Mr. Agreeable? She couldn’t be sure, because she no longer trusted him.
Into the silence he injected, “You’re looking well.”
“I’m feeling well,” she lied after her sleepless night. But she appreciated the compliment. I’m as starved as Miss Bottomley, in my own way, she thought. Lots of deprivation and loneliness going round.
“So…are you all moved in?” He made conversation.
“It was furnished,” she responded.
“And probably pretty well judging by the neighborhood.” He whistled. “How’s the editing job?”
She tried not to laugh. “It’s quite involving. Exciting and unexpected.”
He seemed amazed she’d acquired anything but drudge work.
“And the old lady? How’s she holding up?”
“I got someone to look after her,” said Scarlet, struggling not to sound smug but feeling it. Would he ask about the nanny? I mean, here she was, so SOMEONE must be looking after Nick. Did he understand? Did he care?
Apparently not. He evidently thought a house of old ladies and old lady minders could look after an infant. I despise this man, thought Scarlet a bit angrily. I actively despise him!
“Well, I’m moving into the BBC flat,” he said. “It’s dreadfully big for me.”
Should she remind him he needed a room for Nick and possibly for a nanny as well? She should ask Enid if she’d consider staying with Nick elsewhere. Would Nick be swarmed instead by Ian’s girlfriends – Scarlet felt certain that to the extent he thought about it at all, THAT was his plan, to fob Nick off on a series of impressionable girls. That wouldn’t do at all, but she knew Pelham would want her to say nothing. But there was SO MUCH she wanted to say! About his detective, for example! Trying to horn his way into Miss Bottomley’s! But she realized there was no point – he’d disavow knowledge, certainly. Anyway, why question a committed liar?
“Would you like to…help furnish the place?” He asked this respectfully, almost shyly. “I could use your assistance.”
Scarlet stared at him. He’d had plenty of ideas about Wyvern House! So why the sudden dearth – the need for her help and intervention now?
She experienced an unnerving thrill of power. Was that his goal? Or was he admiring her, courting her even, for refusing to lie down and accept ill treatment?
She hadn’t considered this possibility – that once she no longer wanted him he would want her again – but she realized she should have. It had been true of all her boyfriends in the past. Probably some quirk of the male character – they always wanted to be the one to walk away.
“I’ll help you do Nick’s room,” she offered.
He pulled up to Foyle’s while traffic flowed around them. “This is fine,” she said, and jumped out of the car before he could argue. Parking really was a nightmare around Foyle’s – buses were everywhere. Once through the glass revolving door she watched him grinding gears as he swept into the roundabout. She wanted to make certain he was really gone.
And then she saw a redhead step out of a cab – a strawberry in sunglasses – surely that wasn’t Candi? It looked like her! She pulled away from the glass as if fearful of contamination.
Alysse Aallyn 
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