Chapter 3 #3
“I treated the patient over the course of a number of appointments.” I try to sound calm and professional. “By the time we realized our affection for each other, his treatment was over. It was therefore totally ethical.”
“He told me it was love at first sight!” shoots back Annalise. “How do you explain that? He told me you were instantly attracted to each other and he wanted to ravish you right there on the couch. He said he’d never known anything so sexy as you in your uniform.”
I’m going to shoot Magnus. What did he have to say that for?
“Objection!” I glower at her. “That evidence was procured while under the influence of alcohol and in a nonprofessional capacity. It therefore cannot be allowed in court.”
“Yes, it can! And you are under oath!” She jabs a finger at me.
“Objection sustained,” Ruby interrupts, and looks up from writing, a distant, wistful look in her eyes. “Was it really love at first sight?” She leans forward, her great big uniformed bosom bulging everywhere. “Did you know?”
I close my eyes and try to visualize that day. I’m not sure what I knew, except I wanted to ravish him on the couch too.
“Yes,” I say at last. “I think so.”
“It’s so romantic.” Ruby sighs.
“And wrong!” Annalise chimes in sharply. “The minute he showed any interest in you, you should have said, ‘Sir, this is inappropriate behavior. I would like this session to end and for you to transfer to another therapist.’ ”
“Oh, another therapist!” I can’t help a short laugh. “Like you, by any chance?”
“Maybe! Why not?”
“And what if he’d shown interest in you?”
She lifts her chin proudly. “I would have handled it without compromising my ethical principles.”
“I was ethical!” I say in outrage. “I was totally ethical!”
“Oh yes?” She narrows her eyes like a prosecuting barrister. “What led you to suggest exchanging appointments with me in the first place, Miss Wyatt? Had you in fact already Googled him and decided you wanted him for yourself?”
Aren’t we over this?
“Annalise, you wanted to swap appointments! I never suggested anything! I had no idea who he was! So if you feel like you missed out, tough luck. Don’t swap next time!”
For a moment, Annalise says nothing. She’s getting pinker and pinker in the face.
“I know,” she bursts out at last, and bangs a fist to her forehead. “I know! I was so stupid. Why did I swap?”
“So what?” cuts in Ruby firmly. “Annalise, get over it. Magnus obviously wasn’t meant for you, he was meant for Poppy. So what does it matter?”
Annalise is silent. I can tell she isn’t convinced.
“It’s not fair,” she mutters at last. “Do you know how many bankers I’ve massaged at the London Marathon? Do you know how much effort I’ve made?”
Annalise cottoned on to the London Marathon a few years ago, when she was watching it on telly and realized it was stuffed full of fit, motivated guys in their forties, who were probably single because all they did was go running, and, OK, forties was a bit old, but think what kind of salary they must be on.
So she’s been volunteering as an emergency physiotherapist every year since. She makes a beeline for all the attractive men and works their calf muscles or whatever, while fixing them with her huge blue eyes and telling them she’s always supported that charity too.[*26]
To be fair, she’s got lots of dates out of it—one guy even took her to Paris—but nothing long-term or serious, which is what she wants.
What she won’t admit, of course, is that she’s extremely picky.
She pretends that she wants a “really nice, straightforward guy with good values,” but she’s had several of those desperately in love with her and she dumped them, even the really good-looking actor (his stage play ended and he had no other work coming up).
What she’s really after is a guy who looks like he’s out of a Gillette commercial, with a massive salary and/or a title.
Preferably both. I think that’s why she’s so mad about losing Magnus, since he’s Dr. She once asked me if he would become Professor one day and I said probably yes, and she went a kind of green.
Ruby scribbles something else down, then screws her pen lid on. “Well, I think we’ve covered the facts. Well done, everyone.”
“Aren’t you going to give her a warning or something?” Annalise is still pouting.
“Oh, fair point.” Ruby nods, then clears her throat. “Poppy, don’t do it again.”
“OK.” I shrug.
“I’ll put that in writing, show it to the inspector; that’ll shut him up. By the way, did I tell you I’ve found the perfect strapless bra to go under my bridesmaid’s dress?” Ruby beams at me, back to her usual cheery self. “Aquamarine satin. It’s lush.”
“Sounds amazing!” I get up and reach for the Costa coffee tray. “Is one of these for me?”
“I got you a flat white,” says Annalise grudgingly. “With nutmeg.”
As I take it, Ruby gives a small gasp. “Poppy! Haven’t you found your ring?”
I look up to see both Annalise and Ruby staring at my left hand.
“No,” I admit reluctantly. “I mean, I’m sure it’ll turn up somewhere.”
“Shit.” Annalise has a hand over her mouth.
“I thought you found it.” Ruby is frowning. “I’m sure somebody said you’d found it.”
“No. Not yet.”
I’m really not enjoying their reaction. Neither of them is saying “Not to worry” or “These things happen.” They both look horrified, even Ruby.
“So, what will you do?” Ruby’s brows are knitted.
“What did Magnus say?” chips in Annalise.
“I…” I take a gulp of flat white, playing for time. “I haven’t told him yet.”
“Sheeesh,” Ruby exhales.
“How much is it worth?” Trust Annalise to ask all the questions I don’t want to think about.
“Quite a bit, I suppose. I mean, there’s always insurance….” I trail off lamely.
“When are you planning to tell Magnus?” Ruby has her disapproving face on. I hate that face. It makes me feel small and mortified. Like that awful time she caught me giving ultrasound and texting at the same time.[*27] Ruby is someone you just instinctively want to impress.
“Tonight. Neither of you guys has seen it, have you?” I can’t help asking, even though it’s ridiculous, like they’ll suddenly say, “Oh yes, it’s in my bag!”
They both shrug no. Even Annalise is looking sorry for me.
Oh God. This is really bad.
—
By six o’clock it’s even worse. Annalise has Googled emerald rings.
Did I ask her to do this? No. I did not.
Magnus has never told me how much the ring is worth.
I asked him, jokingly, when he first put it on my finger, and he joked back that it was priceless, just like me.
It was all very romantic and lovely. We were having dinner at Bluebird, and I had no idea he was going to propose. None.[*28]
Anyway, the point is, I never knew what the ring cost and I never wanted to know. At the back of my mind I keep trying out lines to Magnus, like, “Well, I didn’t realize it was so valuable! You should have told me!”
Not that I’d have the nerve to say that. I mean, how dumb would you have to be not to realize that an emerald out of a bank vault is worth something? Still, it’s been quite comforting not to have a precise figure in my head.
But now here’s Annalise, brandishing a sheet of paper she’s printed out from the Internet.[*29]
“Art deco, fine-quality emerald, with baguette diamonds,” she’s reading out. “Estimate twenty-five thousand pounds.”
What? My insides turn to jelly. That can’t be right.
“He wouldn’t have given me anything that expensive.” My voice is a bit shaky. “Academics are poor.”
“He’s not poor! Look at his house! His dad’s a celebrity! Look, this one’s thirty grand.” She holds up another sheet. “It looks exactly like yours. Don’t you think, Ruby?”
I can’t look.
“I never would have let it off my finger,” Annalise adds, arching her eyebrows, and I almost want to hit her.
“You’re the one who wanted to try it on!” I say furiously. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d still have it!”
“No, I wasn’t!” she retorts indignantly. “I just tried it on when everyone else did! It was already going round the table.”
“Well, whose idea was it, then?”
I’ve been racking my brains about this again—but if my memory was hazy yesterday, it’s even worse today.
I’m never going to believe a Poirot mystery again. Never. All those witnesses going, “Yes, I remember it was 3:06 p.m. exactly, because I glanced at the clock as I reached for the sugar tongs, and Lady Favisham was quite clearly sitting on the right-hand side of the fireplace.”
Bollocks. They have no idea where Lady Favisham was, they just don’t want to admit it in front of Poirot. I’m amazed he gets anywhere.
“I’ve got to go.” I turn away before Annalise can taunt me with any more expensive rings.
“To tell Magnus?”
“Wedding meeting with Lucinda first. Then Magnus and his family.”
“Let us know what happens. Text us!” Annalise frowns. “Hey, that reminds me, Poppy: How come you changed your number?”
“Oh, that. Well, I went out of the hotel to get a better signal and I was holding out my phone—”
I break off. On second thought, I can’t be bothered to get into the whole story of the mugging and the phone in the bin and Sam Roxton. It’s all too way-out, and I haven’t got the energy.
Instead, I shrug. “You know. Lost my phone. Got another one. See you tomorrow.”
“Good luck, missus.” Ruby pulls me in for a quick hug.
“Text!” I hear Annalise calling after me as I head out the door. “We want hourly updates!”
She would have been great at public executions, Annalise. She would have been the one at the front, jostling for a good view of the ax, already sketching the gory bits to put up on the village notice board, in case anyone missed it.
Or, you know, whatever they did before Facebook.
—
I don’t know why I bothered rushing, because Lucinda’s late, as always.