Page 145 of Wife After Wife

It had been almost two years since she hooked up with Frankie Denham, the baby-faced manager of indie band Chaos. Frankie’s pale skin contrasted with his spiky black hair and the enormous brown eyes of a nocturnal animal. But his sweet face belied the manipulative bad boy behind it. On a good day he was a charmer—fun and extravagantly generous. On a bad one he was cold and indifferent.

At least he’d never abused her.

Frankie wasn’t a sensible choice of boyfriend, as Florence regularly reminded her. As well as managing the band, he was a small-time drug dealer, although he never touched the stuff himself.

Caitlyn never knew where she stood with Frankie, or how he feltabout her. He was often away with the band, then he’d turn up on her doorstep after weeks of silence. And because of a little voice in her head that told her she didn’t deserve any better, she let him in.

Her phone pinged. A reply from Harry:How early can you get away? I have a cunning plan.

There was nothing she couldn’t get out of.Early as u like!

Harry:Let me know your address, I’ll pick you up about 3. Bring overnight bag and posh frock.

CHAPTER 45

Harry

Relations between London and Moscow hit a new low yesterday, read Harry as he sat in the waiting room of Dr. Butts’s Harley Street rooms.

He folded the newspaper and sat back, thinking. After Charles had shared his worries about the bank’s Moscow connections, Harry instructed Rose Corp.’s financial director to flag any Russian investments that could be problematic, should they come under scrutiny from the authorities. Of course, he had one particular investor in mind. If they could buy him out, Harry’s conscience might stop prodding him awake in the early hours.

A door in the oak-paneled wall opened and a nurse appeared. “Mr. Rose? Oh, Harry Rose! Fancy that!”

She seemed familiar. Fairish hair, twinkly brown eyes, the trace of a northern accent.

“You don’t remember? How about if I say, ‘Your special visitor’s here, Mr. Rose.’” She tapped the side of her nose.

“Nurse Clare!” Harry rose out of his chair. “How wonderful to see you! How long has it been? Six, seven years? You were a bright spot in those dark days.”

“Must be. I’ve been with Dr. Butts for a while now. Gosh, you were my favorite patient. You always had a friendly word and a joke, evenwhen you were in pain. That was a dreadful injury you had, but the surgeons did a great job.”

“They did. I just get the odd twinge now and again.”

They stood smiling at each other, until Nurse Clare said, “I’d better stop holding you up—you can go through now.”

“Thank you, Nurse Clare.”

“Just call me Clare.”

“OK, Clare. And I’ll do my best to forget you emptied my bedpans and saw me in that bottom-revealing nightgown.”

“Let’s just say we have a special bond, Mr. Rose.”

•••

“So how are we going with the leg?” asked the doctor.

“Pretty good. I’m playing tennis again—life without tennis was a sad affair. Although it does ache afterward.”

“Right, well hop up here and let’s take a look. And let’s have a chat about your latest medical results while we’re at it.”

“Must we?”

“They’re much improved,” Butts said, gently bending Harry’s leg at the knee. “But the old blood pressure and cholesterol are still too high, and I have one or two other concerns. But don’t worry, nothing that can’t be fixed with a few of those ‘lifestyle changes’ they bang on about. Basically means cutting down on the nice stuff, especially the alcohol— I know it’s a bore—and upping your healthy eating—even more of a bore.”

At least there was no mention of the painkillers.

Afterward, Harry didn’t return to the office. He’d blocked off the rest of the day and told Tina he was only to be contacted in case of emergency. This morning he’d driven into town in his DB9. He’d only had it a few months. After the accident he’d bought other cars, afraid of the memories another Aston Martin would bring back, but nothing had compared to the deep-throated roar of his old love.