This was something they did on a regular basis. Two women who had been through a lot together, who trusted and understood each other, sitting on Dior chairs under the fabulous gold cupola of the Palm Court, listening to a gifted boy playing Cole Porter on the piano, being waited on by attentive staff in brass-buttoned tailcoats and white ties. Trying to resist going overboard on the scones, chocolate cake, sandwiches and raspberry tarts – and usually failing.
Two of the Carter heavies were sitting at a nearby table, also taking tea. Annie would have seen the humour of it – two big muscular guys drinking from bone china cups, their little fingers sticking out daintily as they drank – if she hadn’t been so stressed out about Max being back in her life again.
‘Can you guess? The thing that really drives me insane?’ asked Annie.
‘Got a feeling you’re going to tell me,’ said Dolly, wolfing down a finger sandwich stuffed with smoked salmon.
‘The way he tries to boss me around. The way he always has to be in charge. Do you know how crazy that makes me?’
Dolly gave her friend a long, assessing look.
‘I’m guessing that don’t always irritate you,’ she said.
‘Meaning?’ Annie sipped her tea with a quick, angry gesture.
Dolly let out a sigh.
‘Annie. I been your mate since God was a lad, haven’t I? I was a madam, in charge of a bunch of prossies. Now I’m in charge of the dancers at the Palermo. If there’s one thing I know, it’s women. What’s more, I know you. The real problem? You’re an Alpha woman. He’s an Alpha man. You clash. Everywhere, I guess, except the bedroom, where he can boss you around just as much as he likes, and you love it. Am I right or am I right?’
Shit, she’s right, thought Annie. Max drove her crazy out of bed. The trouble was, he’d always driven her crazy in it too.
‘So what you going to do about it?’ asked Dolly. She selected a sandwich with egg-and-cress filling, bit in.
‘There’s nothing to do, is there?’ Annie turned sad eyes on her friend. ‘We’re divorced. It’s history. It’s over.’
‘Oh yeah. Eight years on. And how many men have you dated?’
‘Hey, I’ve dated. You know I have.’
‘Yeah. Grand total of two, as I recall.’
Annie pulled a face. ‘And your point is…?’
‘My point is bleedin’ obvious.’
‘No, come on. Spit it out.’
‘You won’t like it.’
‘Try me.’
‘They both looked a bit like him, didn’t they? Only they didn’t have his balls. Or his charisma.’
Annie opened her mouth. Then she thought about it and closed it with a snap.
‘And you reckon it’s over,’ said Dolly.
‘It is.’
‘Then why’s he