The One You Really Want

It was as warm as toast inside Rennie’s black Mercedes. Rose, feeling as cosseted as the Queen, stroked the wonderfully comfortable leather upholstery and carefully fastened her seat belt. Glancing up, she saw Marjorie Brough-Badham standing stiffly at the window of number sixty-two, gazing down at them.

Rose couldn’t resist giving her a regal little wave. Marjorie didn’t wave back. Feeling snubbed, Rose watched her turn away from the window. Next moment the curtains were swished shut. It was like a door being slammed in her face. Well, that tells me, thought Rose as Rennie fired the ignition and ear-splitting music blasted through the speakers.

‘My goodness, what a racket.’ Rose shuddered and reached forward to turn it down. ‘Who’s singing that?’

‘Me,’ said Rennie. ‘We’re choosing tracks for the new album.’

‘Oh pet, I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s lovely.’ Patting his arm, Rose said, ‘Now put your seat belt on.’

In the car it took only a couple of minutes to reach Levine Street. Zac’s shop was in darkness as Rennie pulled into a free space across the road.

‘I’ll come with you. Can’t stand waiting in cars.’ Rennie hopped out of the driver’s seat. ‘Besides, I want to see how Zac’s getting on with my scary jacket.’

In the shop doorway Rose peeled off her gloves and took the key from her pocket. Peering at the numbers written on her hand, she carefully repeated them aloud and took a couple of deep breaths because other people’s burglar alarms were always a bit nerve-wracking.

Once inside, she found the box easily enough and keyed in the code. Phew, done. Now she could relax.

‘Hey, how about this?’ Rennie was gleefully holding a shimmering silver shift dress decorated with huge purple lip-prints against himself. ‘Does it suit me?’

‘Put that down,’ Rose scolded. ‘Zac doesn’t want your grubby fingerprints all over his clothes.’

Rennie raised a playful eyebrow. ‘Actually, I think you could be wrong there.’

Rose did her best not to blush. When Nancy had told her that Zac was that way inclined, she’d been shocked. It was one thing seeing people on the TV who were gay, like Dale Winton and that little leprechauny Irish one, but somehow it had never occurred to Rose that she might know a homosexual in real life.

Frankly, if she weren’t so fond of Zac she might have felt a bit funny about it.

Rennie was now investigating a pair of white trousers trimmed with black pom-poms. Rose, chivvying him towards the stairs, said, ‘Come on, you. Nancy’s waiting to hear if we’ve found her credit card.’

As they climbed the staircase Rose noted with approval that before leaving the flat Zac had left a couple of lights on in order to deter burglars. The kitchen was to the left, with the door closed. Hearing a faint scuffling noise, she realised that Zac had left Doreen at home.

‘Honestly, what a hopeless guard dog,’ Rose chided. ‘Not a single bark.’ Raising her voice before opening the door in order not to startle the little dog, she called out, ‘It’s all right, sweetheart, only me!’

The next moment her heart leapt into her throat as the door was abruptly yanked open. With her fingers already closed round the doorhandle, Rose found herself yanked along with it. Catapulting into the kitchen, she collided with Zac who had never looked more petrified in his life.

‘Jesus, oh my God,’ Zac gasped. ‘Rose! What’s going on?’

There was a frying pan clutched in his right hand. Her own heart racing, Rose clasped her chest and stammered, ‘I thought the flat was empty . . . Nancy told me you were out.’

‘I could have killed you.’ Zac was hyperventilating, his face chalk-white and his hands trembling violently. ‘I thought you were a burglar. If you hadn’t called out I’d have hit you over the head with this.’

The frying pan was Le Creuset, no laughing matter. Wobbly with relief that he hadn’t swung it at her, Rose said, ‘Oh pet, I’m so sorry. Could I sit down for a moment, get my breath back?’

‘Um . . . well, I was just on my way out.’ Zac shifted awkwardly, evidently not keen on the idea.

‘Sit down, Rose.’ Taking charge, Rennie steered her towards the kitchen table and pulled out one of the chairs. ‘Nancy rang you, but there was no reply.’ As he said it, Rennie’s gaze flickered from Zac to the silver mobile phone lying on the table. ‘She tried your mobile too, but it was switched off. Where’s Doreen?’

‘What? Oh, in the bedroom. Having a little sleep.’ Wiping his perspiring hands together, Zac blurted out, ‘I still don’t know what you’re doing here.’

‘Oh sweetheart, what must you think of us?’ Rose’s forehead pleated apologetically. ‘Nancy’s lost her credit card. She thought she might have left it here in the kitchen. Have you seen it?’

‘No.’ Wildly Zac shook his head. ‘Credit card? No, definitely haven’t seen it. Sorry. Right, was that all? Only I really do have to go out!’

Rennie, sauntering over to the far side of the table where a slew of papers and magazines were scattered, began picking up each one in turn - Vogue, Harpers, Car Weekly - and flicked through them. Nothing. Then he moved Zac’s laptop, which lay open and switched off next to a couple of discarded coffee mugs.

The credit card, which had slid beneath the laptop, was revealed. Clasping her hands, Rose exclaimed, ‘Oh thank heavens, there it is!’

Zac looked relieved too. Relieved, thought Rennie as he passed the card over to Rose, but still downright twitchy.

‘Good, good.’ Zac began making chivvying gestures in an attempt to persuade Rose out of her chair. Hurriedly he said, ‘Well, if that’s all—’

‘OK if I use the loo before we head off?’ Sliding past him, Rennie made his way swiftly across the kitchen.

‘No!’ yelped Zac, lunging after him. ‘No, that’s not the bathroom—’

‘Oh God,’ Zac groaned, slumping against the fridge and covering his face.

‘Sorry, my mistake.’ Rennie beamed at him over his shoulder. ‘I thought it was a bathroom. Turns out it’s a broom cupboard. And you’ll never guess what else you’ve got in here.’

A sound like a mouse being strangled issued from Zac’s throat. Concerned, Rose said, ‘Whatever’s the matter, pet?’

‘You know when customs officers open the back of a lorry and dozens of illegal immigrants come tumbling out?’ Rennie’s tone was conversational. ‘That’s just how I feel now.’

‘Come on out,’ said Rennie. ‘It can’t be comfortable in there.’ He opened the door more widely and Rose’s mouth dropped open as Brigadier Brough-Badham emerged from the broom cupboard.

‘Good gracious. Oh my goodness,’ Rose gasped. ‘What’s going on? Zac, do you know who this is?’

‘But . . . but he lives next door to us,’ Rose spluttered. ‘With his wife, Marjorie. This is just . . . well, extraordinary . Whatever’s he doing here in your flat?’

Bracing herself the next morning, Nancy let herself into the shop. Doreen came trotting over, her tail wagging eagerly, and she scooped the little dog up into her arms.

‘Hello, baby, how are you?’ Nancy heard her voice go squeaky, as if she’d been sucking helium. ‘Had a nice walk this morning? Been playing with your ball?’

Through the open door leading into the workroom, Nancy could see Zac with his back to her, pinning a swathe of midnight blue velvet round his tailor’s dummy. Raising her Minnie Mouse voice, she called out casually, ‘Hi, Zac. Everything OK?’

He stopped pinning and turned to face her. Said flatly, ‘So they told you.’

‘Sorry.’ Nancy moved towards him, feeling horribly responsible and clutching Doreen like a security blanket. ‘Am I sacked?’

‘Because it’s all my fault. I sent Mum over here last night. She brought Rennie along with her. As far as I was concerned, the flat was empty.’ Nancy pulled a face. ‘I was sure you wouldn’t mind.’

‘Great timing.’ Zac was wearing a pale grey shirt today, and plain dark blue trousers. It was as if he hadn’t had the energy to choose his usual outrageous get-up. ‘One thing. How did Rennie know Geoffrey was in the broom cupboard?’

Geoffrey. It was hard enough to believe that Brigadier Brough-Badham had a Christian name, let alone that it was Geoffrey.

‘Well, he said you were as jumpy as a cat on a hot-plate. Then when he brushed his hand against the coffee mugs on the kitchen table,’ Nancy explained, ‘he realised they were both warm.’

‘Have to start calling him Miss Marple.’ Pushing his unwashed blond hair back from his face, Zac said wearily, ‘Put the coffee on, will you? I suppose we’d better talk.’

‘We don’t have to.’ Vigorously Nancy shook her head. ‘Not if you don’t want to.’

But Zac gave her a pitying look. ‘Of course I don’t want to, but we certainly do have to. Geoffrey’s your neighbour. None of you has ever got on with him. How do you suppose he’s feeling now? If his wife finds out, this’ll kill him.’

‘She doesn’t know?’ Nancy was incredulous. Then again, she had spent the whole of last night being incredulous. The thought of Zac and Brigadier Brough-Badham together was, frankly, mind-boggling.

‘There are plenty of gay men who are married. Especially the older ones,’ said Zac. ‘Geoffrey had his army career to think of. His family. He did his best to fit in. You have no idea how difficult his life has been,’ he added defensively. ‘And now this. If Marjorie gets to hear about it, I don’t know what he’ll do.’

‘We won’t tell her.’ Appalled, Nancy said, ‘That’s a promise. Truly, we won’t breathe a word.’

Hot with embarrassment, Nancy recalled her and Carmen’s arrival home last night. Rennie, greeting them at the front door, had practically dragged them over the threshold exclaiming, ‘Quick, quick, get in, you are not going to believe this!’

‘He did,’ she admitted, ‘but only because the Brigadier’s always hated us so much. I mean, poor Carmen, he’s been awful to her.’ Hastily Nancy added, ‘But Rennie would never tell Marjorie. That would just hurt her.’

Zac said seriously, ‘Geoffrey couldn’t bear it. That’s the truth. It would destroy both of them.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Nancy vowed to speak to Rennie. ‘And tell Brig - um, Geoffrey not to worry either. Really.’

‘And the moral of this story is,’ Zac grimaced, ‘if your phone rings, answer it. We weren’t in bed or anything, by the way, when you tried to contact me. We were in the kitchen, just talking and drinking coffee.’

‘I didn’t think that,’ Nancy lied, flushing as the unthinkable mental image of Zac and Geoffrey in bed together flashed through her mind.

‘OK, stop picturing it. Just sit down and I’ll tell you the whole story.’

‘It’s kind of relevant,’ Zac said evenly, ‘seeing that if it wasn’t for Geoffrey, I wouldn’t have this shop.’