Chapter 25

They talked and laughed incessantly for half the afternoon until finally, at almost half past three, Dempsey suggested they should maybe head back. The wine bottle had been drained some time ago and Harry had absently wiped clean her pudding bowl with her forefinger.

After using the bathroom, Harry sought out the unfeasibly French waiter to thank him for the excellent service and left a substantial tip on their table as they left the restaurant.

"He was the genuine article," she confirmed, taking Dempsey's arm as they began their stroll back down the river. "His family are from Normandy – he's only been in London a little over a year and …"

"I know," Dempsey grinned. "They're all the genuine article working there … just wanted to hear you speakin' French."

Harry swung away from him, her hand still hooked under his forearm. "You're such an idiot, James!" She laughed incredulously.

"Some detective you'd make! I lived on Jersey for years, remember – you think I wouldn't recognise a phoney French accent?"

"Yes, alright, very good," she conceded and they fell back into step. "Although frankly, I would've thought you'd have grown up a bit by now," she drawled.

"And why would I wanna go and do somethin' like that?"

"Well, I'd assumed that everybody did sooner or later." She gave him a sidelong look. "Obviously I was wrong." They looked at each other then and broke into a mutual smile before both looking ahead again.

Dempsey sighed. "Who woulda thought we'd ever be doin' this again, huh?"

"Until this time last week, I didn't even know if you were dead or alive," Harry pointed out wryly.

The warm sunshine was so soothing and the heat and wine served as a tranquilliser on the senses; a balm to raw nerves and a salve to skin that just wasn't quite thick enough to combat the bitter-sweet sting of emotions.

Tentatively, she asked, "So why now. Why did you choose now to look me up, James?"

"Because my time was up."

"How do you mean?"

"Once I'd tracked you down and then realised I was too scared to actually get in contact, I set myself a six month deadline."

Harry professed herself astounded. "It took you six months to get around to visiting?"

"Five, actually."

"Ooh, brave!"

A loud, electronic ringing cut through the warm, hazy air and Harry realised it was Dempsey's mobile ringing.

"Aren't you going to get that?" she asked when he didn't make any move to answer it.

"Nah."

They continued walking, both listening to the old-style telephone ringtone.

When it stopped, Harry said, "It might've been important."

"Exactly." He turned to her briefly. "I don't want anything to spoil this afternoon."

A little rush of excitement ran through Harry at those words but she quickly checked herself. She couldn't feel like this, it was ridiculous, like a silly young girl making a meal out of the crumbs of affection thrown her way. And it wasn't real anyway – the alcohol was just doing its job for both of them.

His mobile began ringing again.

"Answer it," she urged.

Dempsey took the phone from his right hand trouser pocket and Harry saw the sardonic expression as he read the caller i.d.

"Yes, Julius."

Harry's arm unhooked from Dempsey's. He didn't seem to notice.

"Yes, I am," he frowned, "but then I think you already knew that." A pause. "When I feel like it! What, you can't manage without me now?" He sounded agitated. "Tell you what, we'll call it a day off, okay? I'm takin' the rest of the day off." His face seemed to darken as he listened again. "Yeah, well you don't know her or you wouldn't even think that, pal," said Dempsey, bitterly. "We'll talk about this later, okay?"

He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. "Sorry about that."

"He doesn't think very much of me, does he?"

"He doesn't know you."

"Neither do you."

It was said as much to hurt herself as him, to keep a distance between them, a denial of what she was so frightened could be happening between them again.

"You changed so much, Harry? I hadn't noticed."

She didn't respond.

"See, I told ya I shouldn't of taken that call," he said softly.

They were both aware of the change in atmosphere and walked along in silence for a time. As they neared a small precinct of boutique style shops, Dempsey noticed Harry looking and so suggested they go over and browse.

Gradually, the mood began to lighten until outside the entrance of The Whimsical Chocolatier, they broke into quietly restrained laughter at the sight of two outsized American tourists vying to get through the door at the same time.

Dempsey's fist lightly punched the air as one of the women finally burst through. "Yeay! Go cousin!"

Harry dragged his arm down reprovingly, giggling all the same. "Shut up, James," she whispered close to his ear.

"They've gone in to ask for day passes," he joked, his arm around her waist.

"You're so rude!" But she was grinning as she said it.

Suddenly, she realised that she was leaning up against him and she pulled away quickly.

"Come on then, before I'm tempted too," and she set off again.

The window display of the next shop along drew them both in. There was everything from pretty objet d'art items to several large and unusual pieces of furniture. The moved slowly along, pointing things out to each other; a carved stone demon creature, a patchwork throw, a collection of hand thrown pottery pieces, a couple of pretty watercolour paintings, a series of notable jewellery pieces.

"I always feel terribly guilty even looking at this sort of thing," Harry mused, pointing at a silver and amber bangle. "My ex-husband managed to brain-wash me over the years into thinking that anything that doesn't bear a twenty-four carat hallmark is just trash."

"He's a jeweller, right?"

"Mmm. I've got a ridiculous amount of stuff that I hardly ever wear and he still insists on giving me a new piece for my birthday and Christmas each year. I've started rebelling though," Harry smiled, pushing back her hair to reveal one of the very long, dangly silver chandelier earrings, "and Philip hates it so the more avant-garde the better as far as I'm concerned."

"Clingy ex?"

"Not clingy exactly, just ... thinks he has every right to be in my life for some reason. Gosh, look at that!" Harry exclaimed, gazing at the full length, ornately framed mirror in the centre of the window.

"Wow!" Dempsey agreed. "Now that is beautiful. Looks like it may be pewter work."

They stood before it, their own reflections smiling back at them. They looked like a couple; Dempsey's hand resting on her shoulder, Harry's head turned ever so slightly, listening as he spoke. They both stared, transfixed by the image.

"That's really somethin'," he murmured, reverently.

"Bet the price is really something too. Note the price tag facing away."

"I'd guess at six hundred."

"I'd guess it's more."

Dempsey squeezed her shoulder. "Only one way to find out."

"You're not serious though?"

"Sure I am. I've got just the spot for it at home."

He ushered Harry ahead of him through the door and they were met with a pleasant powdery vanilla scent emanating from the nearby table display of soaps, colognes and drawer liners.

They wandered around for a few minutes, examining the various trinkets and laughing when they admitted to each other that they didn't feel they could trust themselves to touch anything breakable.

They came to a shelf holding a collection of large cloth cat doorstops.

"Oh, they're adorable!" Harry enthused, picking one up and weighing it in her hands. "Look at his little eyes," she told Dempsey in a coochee-coo voice, holding it up for him to get a closer look.

Dempsey laughed. "Looks like that kitten we found. Whatever happened to him?"

"Doofus."

"Yeah, yeah, that was it, Doofus."

"We had him for over sixteen years."

"Good old Doofus, huh?"

Harry looked down fondly at the cloth cat she held. "Yeah. He was a nice cat."

They continued to browse for a while longer until Dempsey left Harry to go and enquire about the mirror. It didn't really matter what figure the shop owner placed on it – he'd already decided he wanted it but as it turned but, Harry had been correct in thinking six hundred was underestimating it. He was quoted a sum just under a thousand pounds. Dempsey handed over a credit card and leaned on the desk. "I'll take one of those cat doorstops as well – the black and white one," he said quietly. "We'll take that with us and I want the mirror delivered to this address." He picked out a business card from his wallet. "This is my home address so can you call me on the mobile number before you bring it and I can arrange to be there."

The transaction was completed and the man went to the storeroom to fetch a bagged doorstop.

"You were right, Princess," said Dempsey, sidling up to Harry as she perused a selection of dried flower bunches.

"About?"

"They look pretty dead," he frowned. "I don't get why people would wanna buy dead flowers."

"They're not just dead, they're dried. So what was I right about?"

"The mirror – it was nine-fifty."

"Oh, bad luck."

"You done here?"

"Ready when you are."

The shop owner came up to her then and handed over a navy and beige manilla carrier bag containing Dempsey's purchase. "Here you are, Mrs Dempsey," he smiled.

"What's this?" she asked in surprise.

"A gift from your husband."

"Ah, well, we ain't married," Dempsey corrected him, and then to Harry, "It's Doofus."

Ignoring Dempsey for the moment, she looked to the shop owner, smiling broadly, her eyes alight. "We're very old friends," she told him." She caught the cheerful wink from Dempsey.

Outside in the sunshine, Harry reached up and kissed his cheek. "That was very nice of you – thank you."

"No problem."

"How did he know your name?"

"Had to give him my details for the delivery."

Harry smirked. "Don't tell me you bought the mirror, James?"

They were standing in front of the shop window again. Dempsey pulled her in front of the mirror and slung an arm around her shoulders. "How could I not?"

Harry crossed her arms over her chest, looking his reflection in the eye.

"I mean, come on, Harry, how can you resist somethin' like that?" He looked right back at her, his eyebrows raised.

She knew exactly what he was driving at but wasn't about to pass comment on how good they looked together. She found him extremely attractive in his white linen shirt, the dark navy cotton trousers ... the disarming smile, and she had to fight the compulsion she had to turn within the circle of his arm and put her arms about his neck. She wondered how he would react if she kissed him. Would he be surprised? Shocked? But it wasn't going to happen she reassured herself, no matter how many bottles of wine she drank – or how much she wanted to.

"Come on, Rockerfeller." She jerked her head to the right. "I can't believe anyone would pay a grand for a mirror!"

"A mirror?" he exclaimed in mock horror. "I thought I was buyin' an oil painting!"

"Ever thought about adding stand-up to your repertoire?" She pulled away from him and began walking, arms still folded and the carrier bag bumping against her hip where it hung at her side. Harry could feel his eyes on her and knew he was appraising her body.

"Hey, Harry!" he called after her.

She turned, walking slowly backwards now. "What?"

Dempsey's heart somersaulted. Oh boy, she still did that thing – that thing with her lip, it lifted just a little at the corner when she played the condescending flirt with him.

"You not walkin' with me now?"

She hardly trusted herself to but she stopped and waited for him to catch her up the few steps. If he put his arm around her again now she'd be lost. How had it happened she asked herself again. How could there still be anything between them? Did he feel it too, this ... need? That was the only way she could describe it to herself, it was a need she had for him.

She didn't dare speak.

"You gotta get home for anything?"

"What did you have in mind?" Her voice came out deeper than she'd expected, sounding almost provocative and she prayed he didn't notice, or worse, think it was engineered.

"I always thought it was s'pposed to be bad manners to answer a question with another question."

Harry forced a smile. "I haven't any plans. Why do you ask?"