Once inside, Annie went on unsteady legs across the hall and into the drawing room. She peeled off her coat and dropped it on to the carpet, then slumped down on a Knole sofa and put her head in her hands.
‘Shit,’ she said with feeling.
Max was pacing about again. Suddenly, he stopped in front of her.
‘Oh, you think those at the church were scary? You ain’t seen fuck-all yet. What in the name of . . .’
His words trailed away and he started his restless pacing again. Not a good sign, she knew that. Then he was back in front of her. ‘You low-life cow. I don’t know why I bothered to do that. I must be off my fucking head. You’ve been cheating on me with that flash Yankee bastard—’
‘I haven’t.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ Max’s eyes were blazing. ‘You admitted you’ve been seeing him. What, you been playing tiddlywinks or something? Or chess like in that film? Or have you been doing what we all know you’ve been doing? That is, dancing the horizontal tango with that American prick.’
Annie sat there, head bowed. ‘You said you wanted a divorce,’ she said slowly.
‘What?’
‘A divorce. That’s what you said. So what the fuck? What’s the use of all this? You want a divorce, you got one. Simple as that.’
Max lunged forward and yanked her to her feet. Every ache in her body started setting up a protest, and Annie let out a yell.
‘Oh, don’t give me that, I ain’t even touching you. Do you know the lucky escape you’ve just had? That was a fucking lynch mob there at the church, all out for your blood, and I had to walk you out of there with a bodyguard of three blokes who were none too sure they wanted to bother. They did it because I told them to, that’s all. And that made me look like the world’s worst fucking fool.’
Annie stared into Max’s eyes from inches away. It had taken her a while to realize it, but he hadn’t been trying to intimidate her at the church by surrounding her in that way. He’d been protecting her. And when he’d cornered her at his mum’s old house, he hadn’t been planning to hurt her; it had all been for the benefit of the three men waiting outside the door. He’d told her to scream, and she had. In actual pain, although he hadn’t known or intended that.
Annie started to smile.
Max glared at her. ‘What?’ he snapped.
‘I love you, Max Carter,’ she said, wincing as her damaged rib set up a riotous ache. ‘Every macho, hot-headed bit of you.’
‘You what?’
Annie pushed herself free of his grip. She dragged her hands through her hair and stared intently into his eyes.
‘For God’s sake listen,’ she said. ‘This is me. This is not rumour. This is not someone talking in the pub after too many sherbets. I’m telling you that I never slept with Constantine when we met up again. I saw him, yes. But sleep with him? No.’
‘You must think I came upriver on the last banana boat,’ he sneered.
‘No, I think you’re smart. I know you are. When you stop behaving like a jealous arsehole and start thinking, you’ll work it all out.’
Max stood there staring into her eyes for a long time. Then he said: ‘You know what? I don’t have to think about it, I can just beat it out of you.’
‘But you won’t do that,’ said Annie. ‘The great Max Carter, beat a woman up? Nah. That’s never going to happen.’
‘Oh, you think so.’
‘I know so.’
Max’s eyes narrowed. Then he turned away from her, walked a few paces, came back.
‘And while I’m working all this out, what are you going to be doing?’ he asked.
‘Finding Dolly’s killer,’ said Annie.
‘Yeah? On streets where everyone wants you strung up from the nearest lamp post? That’ll be a neat trick.’
‘One word from you would change that.’
‘Yeah. If I could be arsed.’
‘I need some help,’ she said.
Max raised an eyebrow. ‘I heard you had help. For what it’s worth. Jackie Tulliver. That cunt’s a drunk these days, what use is he to you – or anybody?’
Annie remembered that Max hated drunks, and would never tolerate them anywhere near him. He’d been scathingly harsh in the past about her mother, Connie, who’d been a useless alkie and so – in Max’s eyes – beneath contempt.
‘I wasn’t thinking of Jackie,’ she said.
Max’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, have a day off. Me? No bloody way. You’ve made me look enough of a fucking idiot already.’
‘No, not you.’
‘Who then?’
‘I want Tony. I want my driver back.’