A Desirable Residence - By Madeleine Wickham Page 0,100

agonized pause. ‘Of this year’s top scholarship to Bourne College.’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

When she saw Marcus arriving at the party with Jonathan and Anthea, Liz didn’t move. She carried on her conversation with the rather dull young surveyor who had offered to get her a drink, and waited for Marcus to come to her. She knew he would come to her. It was inevitable; part of the power she had over him. So she relaxed into her chair—literally her chair, it suddenly occurred to her, since she was the one who had bought it—and greedily drank her glass of wine, and laughed loudly at the young surveyor’s jokes, and waited.

And when Marcus caught her eye over the nodding, bobbing heads of Ginny’s friends, and jerked it surreptitiously towards the garden, she smiled to herself in confirmation, and left it a full three minutes before she interrupted the young man’s lecture on subsidence. As she made her way towards the back door, she was careful not to catch the eye of Jonathan. She didn’t want to have to talk to him; introduce him as her husband; adopt the wifely role. She was beyond all of that.

She had expected that Marcus would catch her in a desperate embrace as soon as she appeared outside. It had, after all, been weeks since their last union. But instead, he hissed, ‘What happened at the bank?’

‘The bank?’ Liz stared at him uncomprehendingly.

‘A few weeks ago. You were going to see the bank. What did they say?’

‘Oh yes.’ Liz forced herself to recall the meeting. ‘They said we had to sell this house. We haven’t got enough capital invested in the tutorial college.’

‘Or what?’

Liz shrugged. She found this questioning rather irksome.

‘I dunno. Repossession, I suppose.’ She gave a little giggle. Marcus seized her wrist.

‘It’s not funny!’ Liz stared at him.

‘What’s all this about? What does it matter?’

‘It’s your livelihood,’ said Marcus furiously. ‘Of course it matters. Your business deserves to succeed.’ He stopped. When he spoke again, it was in a different voice. ‘Daniel got his scholarship,’ he said. His mouth twitched a few times. ‘Top scholarship to Bourne,’ he added. This time, he couldn’t help grinning.

‘Oh good,’ said Liz. ‘Listen,’ she continued, ‘when are we going to see each other properly?’

Marcus stared at her in astonishment.

‘Is that all you can say?’ he exclaimed. Liz shrugged.

‘What do you—’ She broke off. The back door had opened, and the voice of Duncan was coming unmistakably across the garden. ‘Into the garage,’ she hissed. She hurried Marcus in, closed the door and stood facing him, breathing heavily across the blackness. ‘They won’t see us if we don’t turn the lights on,’ she murmured, and tilted her face up to be kissed. But Marcus pulled her chin down irritably.

‘Don’t you care about your own business?’ he exclaimed softly. ‘You know, your husband is working wonders.’

‘I’m sure he is,’ retorted Liz. ‘Good luck to him.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Well, you know,’ said Liz. A drunken excitement began to grow inside her. It was all going to happen now, she thought. Marcus was going to ask her if she still loved Jonathan. She was going to say no. And he was going to ask her to marry him.

‘No, I don’t know.’

‘Us,’ said Liz shyly, and put her hand tenderly up to Marcus’s chin. He looked at her in horror, and tore it away.

‘Us?’ he exclaimed. ‘There is no us!’

‘Of course there is,’ said Liz truculently.

‘Not any more,’ said Marcus. ‘It’s over. Over!’ His voice filled the small garage with a shocking ferocity. Liz took a small step backwards.

‘What do you mean?’ she whispered.

‘You heard him.’ A small, shaking voice came from the corner. Marcus and Liz turned as one, and watched in disbelief as the tiny flame of a cigarette lighter flickered alight. Alice, curled up in the corner, all fringes and long legs, looked with huge eyes from one silent face to the other, then slowly, jerkily, lit a cigarette. She took a few deep drags to get it going properly, then slowly got up, her gaze still darting between Liz and Marcus. She came towards them, threading her way through the piles of boxes and junk, and faced Liz. For a moment she seemed about to say something. Her lips quivered frantically, and she took several drags on her cigarette. Then she seemed to think better of it. She pushed her way roughly between them, out of the garage, and slammed the door behind her. Liz stood completely still for a