Sheer Mischief

But it wasn’t a real date, and at least she knew that even if they didn’t As Maxine had carelessly remarked, upon learning of the outing, ‘I expect he just feels sorry for you because you never have any fun.’

My sister, thought Janey, such a comfort to have around. At least with Maxine to remind her of her failings, she wasn’t likely to get ideas above her station. And, as she had done with James, she was trusting to fate that they wouldn’t bump into anyone they knew at the theatre.

Then, she had been the embarrassed one. This time, she thought ruefully, the tables of justice had been well and truly turned. If anyone was going to be embarrassed tonight, it was Guy.

When she opened the front door, however, he looked both surprised and pleased to see her.

‘You’re ready! Amazing.’

He was used to being kept waiting, of course, by glamorous women incapable of leaving the house until their three-hour beauty routines were complete. janey, who had showered, changed and done her face in lessthan thirty minutes because she hadn’t been able to close the shop before five-thirty, felt intimidated already.

But it wasn’t a proper date, she reminded herself for the tenth time in as many minutes, so it really didn’t matter. All she had to do was relax, stop feeling nervous and enjoy the evening for its own sake.

‘Well, I hate to say it,’ she said, as Guy opened the passenger door for her, ‘but aren’t we going to be horribly early? What time does the play start?’

‘Ah.’ He smiled. ‘I have a favour to ask.’

Oh, that disarming smile. Like magic, Janey’s butterflies disappeared.The prospect of seeing Guy again might have been nerve-racking but she’d forgotten how good he was at putting her at her ease. Now, miraculously, her anxieties melted away.

‘A favour?’ She gave him a deadpan look. ‘Don’t tell me.You want me to pay for the tickets.’

‘Much worse than that.’ Guy grinned. ‘Some friends of mine are having a party and I promised I’d drop in on them. We’d just stay for an hour or so, then go on to the theatre for eight.’ He paused and gave her a swift sidelong glance. ‘Would that be OK with you, or is it a complete pain?’

It wasn’t what she’d expected, that was for sure. Pulling a face, Janey said, ‘Parties aren’t exactly my favourite thing at the moment. Look, why don’t I wait here? You could go on to the party on your own, see your friends and meet me at the theatre later.’

‘Don’t be such a wimp.’ Guy was already putting the car briskly into gear. ‘It isn’t that kind of party, anyway.

Mimi and Jack are extremely nice people. You’ll love them.’

He hadn’t been asking her whether she’d like to go with him, Janey realized. He’d been telling her.

‘Won’t they mind, when you turn up with me in tow?’ she protested.

‘Mind?’ He laughed. ‘They’ll be thrilled to bits. They’re expecting me to bring Serena.’

Chapter 31

Mimi and Jack Margason lived in a splendid old rectory on the outskirts of Truro. Mimi, welcoming them at the door, gave Guy an immense hug and did a delighted double-take when she saw Janey.

‘My darling man! Come along now, make my day and tell me you’ve dumped dreary Deirdre for good.’

Guy, turning to grin at Janey, said, ‘Told you they didn’t like her.’

‘Serena? Ghastly girl,’ Mimi declared, planting a big kiss on his cheek. ‘As skinny as a string bean and about as interesting to talk to. Or is that an insult to string beans?’

Having steeled herself for the worst – because with a name like Mimi the very least one could expect was glamour, glitz, drop-dead chic and probably a French accent to boot – this Mimi came as a marvellous surprise to Janey. It wasn’t hard to understand, either, why Mimi considered Serena dreary and thin. At a conservative estimate, she had to weigh all of fifteen stone herself. Her long, extremely yellow hair was piled up and loosely secured with blue velvet bows, two biros and a chopstick. A billowing pink-and-silver blouse was worn over a long violet skirt. Mimi’s round, laughing face was dominated by a wide mouth, many chins and a great deal of haphazardly applied violet eyeshadow. Her age wasn’t easy to gauge but she was probably in her late fifties. She was also wearing the largest, most elaborate silver earrings Janey had ever seen in her life.

‘This is Janey,’ said Guy, performing the introductions. ‘And she’s just a friend so spare her the in-depth cross-examination because it won’t get you anywhere. Janey, this is Mimi Margason, my very own Beryl Cooke character come to life. She’s also the nosiest woman in England, so hang on to your secrets ...’

‘Oh, don’t be so boring.’ With a chuckle, Mimi ushered them into the house. ‘But since you’re the first guests to arrive, it’s lovely to see you anyway. Now come through to the kitchen

— oops, mind those wellies — and let Jack get you a drink. If he offers you the elderflower champagne,’ she murmured furtively, ‘for Pete’s sake smack your lips and look appreciative. It might taste like old pea pods but it’s his pride and joy.’

The kitchen was vast, rose-scented and hugely untidy. Mimi had evidently raided the garden that day; upon the twelve-foot-long windowsill stood three enormous, unmatched vases.The poor roses themselves, jammed in willy-nilly irrespective of size and colour, looked like far too many strangers squashed uncomfortably together in a lift.

‘I know!’ said Mimi cheerfully, having intercepted Janey’s glance in their direction. ‘I can’t organize flowers to save my life. Poor Jack spends all his spare time in the garden, pruning and chivvying them along, and then ‘I have to do that to them. Ruined, in ten minutes flat.’

‘They aren’t ruined.’ Moving closer, Janey admired the blooms which had evidently been tended with devotion. ‘They’re beautiful. All they need is a bit of .. . sorting out.’

‘I suppose I’m just not the sorting-out type.’ With an unrepentant shrug, Mimi indicated the rest of the chaotic kitchen where, at the far end, the two men were already deep in conversation.

She elaborated, ‘We love this house, but let’s face it — we’re never going to be featured in House & Garden. Now come along, let’s find you that drink and then we can get down to some serious gossip. I can give you all the dirt on dreadful Deirdre.’

‘Actually,’ said Janey, ‘I did meet her a few times. I already know how dreadful she is.’

Mimi’s eyes gleamed. ‘In that case, you can tell me how you got yourself involved with gorgeous Guy.’

‘Oh dear, this is going to come as such a disappointment to you.’ Janey gave her an apologetic smile. ‘But I’m afraid we really aren’t involved.’

Mimi, however, was not easily swayed. ‘You mean it’s early days yet and you don’t want to say too much about it,’ she stage-whispered with the smug air of one who knows better.

‘I mean there’s nothing to say too much about.’ Janey, beginning to realize that the more she protested, the more convinced Mimi would become that something delightfully illicit was going on, decided that this was a problem only Guy could sort out. Glancing once more at the poor, half-suffocated roses on the windowsill, she said suddenly, ‘Look, why don’t you find me a nice sharp knife?’

‘Help!’ Mimi burst out laughing. ‘Who are you thinking of using it on – me for asking too many questions? Or Guy, just to prove you aren’t madly in love with him?’

Janey grinned. ‘Your flowers. Let me do something to them before the rest of your guests arrive. And if you could lay your hands on some old newspapers and a couple more vases ...’

‘Amazing.’ Having rummaged in a drawer, Mimi handed her a well-used Sabatier boning knife. Eagerly, she grabbed the bowls of roses and lined them up in front of Janey. ‘The lengths some people will go to in order to get out of sampling my husband’s beloved elderflower champagne. I say,’ she added admiringly as Janey set to work with the knife, ‘you really know what you’re doing, don’t you!’

With deft fingers, Janey separated a dozen or so deep, creamy yellow Casanovas from a tangle of coppery pink Albertines, trimmed their stems and stripped them of their waterlogged lower leaves. ‘Plenty of practice,’ she said, with a brief smile. ‘I’m a florist.’

‘How marvellous,’ Mimi cried. ‘At last, a girlfriend of Guy’s who can actually do something besides flick her hair about and pose for a stupid camera.’

‘Except I’m not a girlfriend of Guy’s,’ Janey patiently reminded her.

‘Of course you aren’t, darling.’ Mimi, her silver earrings tinkling like sleighbells, shook her head and gurgled with laughter. ‘But just think of the advantages if the two of you should decide to get married! Guy could take the photographs, you’d organize the flowers ... how much more DIY can a bride and groom get?’

‘Goodness.’ Janey kept a straight face. ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that. We could get my brother the bishop to perform the ceremony, my sister Maxine could play "Here comes the bride"

on her mouth organ and Josh and Ella could stab all the sausages on to little sticks ...’

Jack Margason, having evidently decided that in the immediate-impact stakes he couldn’t even begin to compete with his wife, wore a pale grey shirt and oatmeal trousers which exactly matched his pale grey hair and oatmeal skin. Tall and thin, with liquid, light brown eyes, an apologetic smile and a very long, perfectly straight nose, he reminded Janey of an Afghan hound.

And she wasn’t going to get away with it after all, she realized. He had brought her a drink.

‘You deserve one,’ he told her, ‘for doing justice to my poor, beloved roses. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.’

Janey, putting the finishing touches to the final arrangement of blush-pink Fritz Nobis and creamy Pascali, tweaked a couple of glossy leaves into position in order to hide the chipped rim of the terracotta bowl in which they stood. Stepping back, she smiled and accepted the glass he offered her. It was the infamous elderflower champagne, and it definitely had character.

Manfully she swallowed it.

‘Go on then,’ said Guy, having given her a ghost of a wink. ‘What’s the old bag been saying about me?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself.’The taste of old pea pods clung to Janey’s teeth. ‘She’s been far too busy. Organizing the honeymoon.’

‘The brazen hussy; she’s already married.’

‘Not her honeymoon.’ Janey had been so entertained by Mimi’s endless suppositions and fantasies that it hadn’t even occurred to her to be embarrassed. ‘Ours.’

‘Really?’ Guy’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Where are we going? Somewhere nice, I hope?’

Evidently finding nothing strange in the idea that less than a week after Serena’s departure Guy should have found himself a new future wife, Jack glanced with regret at the half-empty glass in his hand.

‘What a shame, I only have three bottles of elderflower left. But if you think you might be interested, Guy, I could let you have three cases of last year’s damson and crabapple. That would certainly make the wedding party go with a swing.’

By seven-thirty the house was overflowing with guests, an eclectic mixture of smart, arty and downright Bohemian types complete with children and dogs for added informality. Janey, proudly introduced by Mimi as ‘a whizz with flowers’, almost had to forcibly restrain her from adding, ‘She’s Guy’s new girlfriend but I’m not allowed to tell you because it’s all terribly hush-hush.’

What struck Janey about the assortment of guests was their friendliness. Mimi and Jack clearly had no time for the kind of people who might turn up their noses at terrible wine or gaze askance at a messy home.

Two or three of them she even knew slightly, through the shop, whilst others, on hearing about it, bombarded her with questions. There was always someone desperate to learn how a wilting yukka could be sprung back to life, exactly how to go about preserving beech leaves with glycerine, when and how to trim a bonsai .. .

She was in the middle of demonstrating the method of putting together a pot-et-fleur arrangement to the glamorous wife of a pig farmer when Guy reappeared at her side.

‘I’m thinking of setting up evening classes,’ Janey told him with a grin.

‘It looks to me as if you’ve already started.’ He showed her his watch. ‘Eight o’clock.

Definitely evening.’

‘Eight o’clock already?’The play started at eight thirty; he had come to tell her it was time to leave. Taney, feeling like a six-year-old at a birthday party, looked crestfallen.

‘We shouldn’t be late,’ said Guy. ‘Apart from anything else, I can’t stand being glared at when I’m trying to squeeze past all the people already in their seats.’

‘This play,’ she said in neutral tones. ‘Is it ... good?’

‘Oh, terrific. Riveting. Unmissable.’

‘And these tickets. Expensive?’

‘Cost an absolute fortune.’

‘Do we have to go?’

Guy shook his head. ‘We don’t have to.’

Feeling guilty, she said, ‘Do you want to?’

He smiled. ‘Of course I don’t. I hate the bloody theatre.’

The party was proving to be a great success. An enormous game of charades was interrupted at nine o’clock by the arrival of a caterer’s van bringing Chinese food for sixty. At ten o’clock, everyone was ushered out into the garden for the firework display.

‘I haven’t had a chance to ask you yet how you’ve been getting on.’ Guy led Janey towards a wooden bench from which they could view the proceedings in comfort. When she shivered in the chilly September night air he removed his green sweater and draped it across her shoulders.

Janey breathed in the scent of aftershave emanating from the soft folds of wool. It was a curiously intimate sensation, wearing an item of clothing still warm from someone else’s body.

Glad of the darkness she said, ‘You mean meeting your friends tonight?’

‘I mean sorting yourself out and getting Parry-Brent out of your system.’

‘Don’t worry, he’s well and truly out.’ She gave him a rueful smile. ‘A little public humiliation works like a charm.’

‘It didn’t exactly make him look good, either,’ Guy reminded her. ‘A scene like that won’t improve his street cred.’

‘I suppose not.’ Janey thought about it for a moment. ‘Well, good.’

‘And you haven’t seen him since?’

Not at all. He’s doing his own flowers from now on ... or sweet-talking some other gullible female into doing them for him.’ She fidgeted with the sleeves of the sweater, twisting them around her cold hands. ‘But that’s enough about my failed relationship. How about you? Does it feel strange, not having Serena around any more?’

‘Ah.’ Guy sounded amused. ‘You mean it’s time to talk about my failed relationship.’

Janey laughed. ‘Well, it seems only fair. And it’s so encouraging, knowing I’m not the only one who makes mistakes.’

Maxine had told her, of course, about Guy’s return from Holland and the subsequent departure – amid a flurry of Louis Vuitton suitcases – of Serena and all her worldly goods. There had been no question of either forgiveness or reconciliation; such overwhelming lack of concern for the safety of his children was unforgivable.

‘What can I say?’ He shrugged, to indicate his own misjudgement. ‘I’ve spent the last three years getting myself involved with unsuitable women and Serena turned out to be the icing on the cake. She was beautiful and she didn’t try to suck up to Josh and Ella. Somehow I’d got it into my head that it was how my wife would have behaved if I’d already had children in tow when I first met her. Véronique would never have used them in order to get to me. She’d have taken her time getting to know them and allowed them to make up their own minds about her in return. When I met Serena she said much the same thing and it struck a chord. I was impressed by her honesty.’ Pausing for a second, Guy added ruefully, ‘I even managed to persuade myself that at last I’d found someone whom Véronique would approve of.’

The first fireworks were being set off, exploding against the night sky in a dazzle of colour and light, each rocket climbing higher than the last. The children squealed with delight. After watching them for a few moments, Guy spoke again. ‘A couple of years ago I took the kids to a bonfire-night party,’ he said in a low voice, ‘and Ella asked me if her mother could see the fireworks from Heaven. The thing is, nobody ever teaches you the answers to questions like that.’

Janey was no longer cold but she shivered anyway.

Brushing a leaf from her black trousers she tucked her feet up on the bench and hugged her knees.

‘Now you’ve really made me feel ashamed of myself. The only person I have to look after is me. If I make a pig’s ear of things, at least I’m the only one who has to suffer the consequences. I can’t imagine how much more difficult it must be for you, always having the children to consider as well.’

‘Hmm,’ said Guy. ‘The trouble is, it doesn’t stop you making the mistakes. You just feel a hell of a lot guiltier afterwards, and hope to God your kids don’t say "I told you so".’

In an attempt to cheer him up, Janey said, ‘Oh well, you’re bound to meet the right girl sooner or later. Who knows, by this time next year you could be married and living happily ever after with someone who adores children ...’

‘You’re beginning to sound like Mimi.’ With mock-severity he demanded, ‘Have you been reading her books?’

‘Mimi writes books?’ Janey was instantly diverted by this piece of news. ‘What kind?’

‘The kind where you end up married and living happily ever after with someone who adores children,’ said Guy dryly. ‘She sat me down and forced me to read an entire Chapter, once. Real fingers-down-the-throat stuffit was too. ‘I told her they ought to be sold with detachable sick bags.’

‘That’s because you’re a man,’ she explained in comforting tones. ‘Women love that kind of thing because the men in the books are so much nicer than any in real life. We call it escapism.’

‘The trouble with Mimi is she’s written so many she’s started believing them,’ he protested.

‘You wouldn’t believe the problems I had with her when she heard about Maxine coming to work for me. She was practically uncontrollable. Pretty-nanny-meets-widowed-father, it seems, is one of her all-time favourite plots.’

It was one of Maxine’s, too, thought Janey with secret amusement. But the opportunity to tease him was too good to pass up. ‘These things do happen,’ she said mildly. ‘Who knows how your feelings might change?’

‘Oh please.’ He heaved a great sigh of despair. ‘Not you as well. Maxine? Never. Not in a million years!’

‘That’s what they always say in the books,’ Janey replied cheerfully. ‘All the way through.

Right up until the very last Chapter ...’

Chapter 32

Maxine’s high hopes for the lucrative toilet-roll commercial — founded on the basis of having once slept with the casting director — had been cruelly scuppered by his decision to give the job to the actress with whom he was currently sleeping instead. The disappointment of losing out was made all the harder to bear by the almost universal lack of sympathy.

‘What a waste,’ said Guy, straight-faced. ‘All that talent down the pan.’

‘If you’d got it,’ Josh innocently enquired, ‘would it have been a leading rôle?’

Ella, who didn’t get the so-called jokes, said loyally, ‘Well I’m glad you aren’t doing it. I told my teacher Mrs Mitchell that you were going to sit on the toilet on television with your knickers down and she said it sounded horrible.’

‘I was not going to sit on the toilet with my knickers down,’ said Maxine through gritted teeth. No wonder Mrs Mitchell had given her such a sour look when she’d picked Ella up from school yesterday.

‘Josh said you were.’

‘Josh is a little toad about to get his Gameboy confiscated.’

‘That’s not fair!’ protested Josh. ‘Dad was the one who told me the joke.’

‘Ah, you mean the hysterically funny leading rôle joke.’ Maxine glared across the breakfast table at Guy. ‘I suppose it took you hours to think that one up.’

He looked modest. ‘Not at all. As a matter of fact, it came to me in a flush.’

Josh fell about laughing. Even Ella cottoned on to that one.

Maxine realized she was hopelessly outnumbered. ‘You’ll be sorry when I’m famous,’ she snapped. ‘In fact you’re going to be sorry a lot sooner than that.’

There was a familiar glint in her eye. Recognizing it, Josh said weakly, ‘Oh no, she’s going to cook dinner. Not the fish pie, Maxine. Please, anything but that.’

‘Oh yes.’ She smiled, because revenge was so wonderfully sweet. ‘Definitely the fish pie.’

Disappointment gave way to delight, however, when the director phoned Maxine a week later. Katrina, the actress whom he’d intended to favour, had somehow managed to fall out of his bed and break her arm in three places. Shooting started tomorrow. Could Maxine possibly get away at such short notice and step into the breach ...?

Guy was busy in the darkroom. Since she wasn’t prepared to risk life and limb opening the door — limbs being a precious commodity just now — Maxine yelled the news from outside.

‘Oh, what next,’ she heard him sigh. Hardly the encouraging response she might have hoped for. A minute passed before the door opened and Guy, frowning as his eyes adjusted to the light, emerged irritably.

‘No,’ he said, before she could even open her mouth to begin. ‘This is too much, Maxine.

Especially after what happened last time. You’re either working for me or you’re not, but you can’t expect me to allow this kind of thing to carry on. I need someone who’s reliable.’

What a pig, thought Maxine, outraged by his selfish, uncompromising attitude. The fact that Serena was a hopeless incompetent was hardly her fault. Guy had seemed to be so much more good-humoured during the past couple of weeks. And now here he was, reverting to type all over again.

‘But this could be my big break,’ she pleaded, silently willing him to pick up on the pun. If he smiled, she was halfway there. • Guy, however, saw through that little manoeuvre in a trice.

He had no intention of smiling, either. ‘Don’t be obvious,’ he said shortly. ‘The answer’s still no.’

‘But it’s fate ... a chance in a million ... and the kids are back at school now,’ gabbled Maxine, bordering on desperation. In four days she would be earning almost as much as Guy paid her in an entire year. ‘Oh please, let me find you a really and truly one-hundred-per-cent reliable nanny ...’

‘Maxine, forget it. You aren’t going.’

‘But—’

‘No.’ He spoke with a horrible air of finality.

Both Josh and Ella attended the local village school, which made it easy for Janey to pick them up at three-thirty and return them to Trezale House. Paula, thrilled to have been entrusted with the responsibility of visiting the flower market and running the shop single-handedly during Janey’s absence, was almost more excited than Maxine at the prospect of watching her on television when the commercial was finally aired. Janey, less easily impressed, was nevertheless prepared to take care of the children for a few days whilst her sister was away. It was no hardship unless you counted having to sleep in Maxine’s pigsty of a bedroom, and she was glad to be able to do a favour for Guy.

When she pulled up outside the school, Josh and Ella seemed equally pleased to see her.

‘You’re looking after us until Friday,’ Ella declared, and promptly handed her a rolled-up sheet of paper. ‘Here, Janey. I painted a picture of you in class. It’s good, isn’t it? What you have to do is say "How lovely" and pin it up on the kitchen wall when we get home.’

Janey studied the portrait. Ella had given her yellow hair, an unflattering purple face and fingers like tentacles. Next to her on a two-legged table stood a vast crimson cake complete with a staggering number of candles.

‘Whose birthday is it?’

‘Nobody’s,’ said Ella. ‘But Maxine said you were good at cakes and they’re my favourite, so I thought you might like to make some.’

‘Tell Janey what else you thought,’ prompted Josh slyly.

Ella beamed. ‘I said Maxine was thin and she doesn’t like cooking, but you aren’t thin so that means you must like doing it a lot.’

Guy, who had spent the day working in Somerset photographing an ancient countess and her fabulous jewels for a county magazine, arrived home at seven-thirty. The unfamiliar aroma of gingerbread hit him the moment he opened the front door. The sight of Janey, sitting at the kitchen table with Josh, Ella and practically an entire army of gingerbread men lined up on cooling racks was unfamiliar, too.

Nobody else, however, appeared to have noticed anything out of the ordinary.

‘Hello, Daddy,’ Ella greeted him airily, over her shoulder. ‘We’re just waiting for them to get cold enough to eat. I did the tummy buttons myself, with real currants.’

‘I’m going to eat the arms and legs first,’ Josh told him with ghoulish pride. ‘Then the heads, until there’s only bodies left.’

Janey, unaware of the smudge of flour on her forehead, smiled and said, ‘Hi. Don’t worry, I made them a proper tea at six. It’s only chicken casserole and mashed potatoes, but there’s some left if you’re starving ...’

It hadn’t been the best of days as far as Guy was concerned. The countess, who was over eighty, had examined the preliminary Polaroids and haughtily demanded to know why someone reputed to be so clever with a camera couldn’t even manage to take a moderately flattering snap.

The raddled old bag, it transpired, had delusions of passing for fifty, which not even all the soft focusing in the world could hope to achieve. It had been a long and tiresome session, throughout which Guy had endured being addressed as ‘That boy’.

And now, this.

It didn’t take a genius to work it out, but he said it anyway. Where’s Maxine?’

Janey, evidently the innocent party, looked surprised.

‘What? She caught the ten o’clock train this morning. Did you think she wasn’t leaving until tonight?’

‘Bloody hell,’ said Guy. The girl was uncontrollable. Was there anything she wouldn’t do in order to get her own way? ‘Bloody Maxine.’

‘Oooh!’ Ella squealed with delight. When she’d said bloody the other day it had caused all kinds of a fuss. Just wait until the next time her father tried to tell her off for saying it.

‘What?’ repeated Janey, bewildered by Guy’s response. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Is there a problem?’

‘Go on then,’ he said heavily. ‘Tell me how she managed to talk you into it.’

It didn’t take long for realization to dawn. Maxine had done it again. ‘You didn’t know she was going,’ Janey sighed.

‘Damn right I didn’t know,’ said Guy icily. ‘But then she was hardly likely to tell me, was she? My God, I told her she couldn’t just waltz off ...’

Damn, registered Ella, beside herself with glee. Surely that was another bad word? She wondered whether it was worse than ‘sodit’, which was what Maxine had said when she’d burnt the scrambled eggs the other night.

For once, however, Janey was on Maxine’s side. Had she stopped to think about it, she supposed she wouldn’t have agreed to take over if she’d known the full story, but she also knew how much the job offer meant to Maxine.

Besides, she was here now, and it wasn’t as if she was a crazed axe-murderer.

‘Look,’ she said reasonably, ‘there really isn’t a problem. I’m enjoying myself, Paula’s going to be looking after the shop ...’

‘Maxine asked me if she could go and I said no,’ Guy repeated defiantly. ‘And I don’t know how you can even begin to defend her. She can’t seriously expect to do this kind of thing and get away with it.’

Josh and Ella watched, enthralled, as Janey squared up to their father.

‘If you didn’t have any intention of allowing her to take the job, you should never have let her go up for the audition. That’s unfair.’

‘If she’d given me enough warning, I wouldn’t have objected.’ Guy found it hard to believe that Janey was defending Maxine. ‘But I employ her to look after my children. She cannot expect to skip off at a moment’s notice, leaving them in the care of God-knows-who ...’

‘She only found out yesterday that she’d got the job,’ Janey countered hotly. ‘And I’m not God-knows-who. I’m her sister. I’m sorry if that isn’t good enough for you, but—’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Realizing that the situation was getting out of hand, he made an effort to calm down. Removing his leather jacket, he tipped Ella off her chair, sat down in her place and pulled her on to his knee.

‘And don’t look at me like that,’ he told Janey. ‘You know I’m not criticizing you. This is all Maxine’s fault, as usual. That girl is enough to drive any man to distraction.’

And she’d even been flattered when she’d thought Guy had wanted her to look after the children. Janey, still indignant on Maxine’s behalf, didn’t return his smile. When he reached past Ella and helped himself to a gingerbread man, she hoped it would burn his mouth.

It did. Guy pretended it hadn’t.

‘These are brilliant,’ he said, in an attempt to mollify her. ‘Oh come on, Janey. Cheer up.

Have a gingerbread man.’

Is the tummy button nice, Daddy?’ asked Ella.

The currant tummy-button was molten. Swallowing valiantly, Guy gave her a squeeze.

‘Sweetheart, it’s the best bit.’

‘Look, you’re back now,’ said Janey in level tones. ‘You don’t need me here. Why don’t I just go home and leave you to it?’

Belatedly, Guy realized just how affronted she really was. The expression in his dark blue eyes softened. ‘OK, I’m sorry. I know you think I’m an ungrateful bas—person, but I’m not really. And of course you can’t leave; we want you to stay. How could I not want someone to stay when they can make gingerbread men like these?’

‘She did mashed potato with real potatoes, too,’ offered Josh.

‘And washed my hair,’ Ella put in helpfully, ‘without getting shampoo in my eyes.’

Janey was threatening to smile. Guy, glancing around the kitchen and counting on his fingers, continued the list.

‘And she’s made a chicken casserole. And she’s ironed my denim shirt. And she’s managed to tear Josh away from his Gameboy without even having to handcuff him to the kitchen chair ..

Josh, ever-hopeful, said, ‘And she’s promised I can stay up to watch Bride of Dracula.’

No I haven’t!’ Janey started to laugh.

‘That settles it,’ declared Guy. ‘I can’t possibly watch Bride of Dracula on my own. It’ll remind me of Maxine and give me hideous nightmares. You’re going to have to stay.’

Ella, reaching across him, picked up one of the gingerbread men. To her dismay the all-important currant rolled on to the floor.

‘Oh, sodit,’ she squealed indignantly. ‘What a little bugger. His bloody tummy button’s come off.’

Chapter 33

Discretion was all part and parcel of a florist’s job, Janey had discovered. When a man who had been married for twenty years began placing a regular order for white freesias to be delivered to an address several miles away from his own home, you kept your mouth shut and delivered them. When your very own middle-aged bank manager suddenly spruced himself up, discovered aftershave and took to popping in for single long-stemmed red roses, you kept a straight face at all costs. And on Valentine’s day, when any number of men might request two --

or even three – identical cellophane-wrapped bouquets of mixed spring flowers, you didn’t bat so much as an eyelid.

Which was how she was managing not to bat an eyelid now. But there could be no doubt about it; the man standing before her was definitely the same man she had seen with her mother all those weeks ago. And the gold American Express card she was holding definitely bore the name ‘Oliver J. Cassidy’.

Which was why, of course, he had looked so familiar to her when she’d spotted him at the Grand Rock Hotel. ‘I’d like to write the message on the card myself, if I may,’ said Oliver Cassidy with a brief smile.

Janey, who had only popped into the shop for a couple of hours whilst Josh and Ella were at school, watched him uncap a black and gold Mont Blanc fountain pen. She felt like a voyeur.

‘There.’ The task completed, he passed the card back to her and smiled once more. The brief message: You have all my love. Counting the days, was written in a courtly, elegant hand.

Will they be sent this afternoon?’

‘Don’t worry, they’ll reach her before two o’clock,’ Janey assured smoothly. ‘I shall be delivering them myself.’

‘Darling, what a lovely surprise!’ Thea, opening the front door, kissed Janey on both cheeks. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the enormous cellophane-wrapped bouquet. ‘And what heavenly lilies ... how kind of you to think of your poor old mother.’

‘They aren’t from me,’ said Janey dryly. ‘They’re from an admirer. I’m just the delivery girl.’

Thea, evidently in a buoyant mood, said, ‘Oh well, in that case I won’t invite you in for a drink.’

‘Yes you will.’ Handing over the bouquet, Janey headed in the direction of the kitchen and switched on the kettle. By the time she’d spooned instant coffee into two mugs, Thea had opened the envelope, read the message written on the card and slipped it into the pocket of her blue-and-white striped shirt. It was an extremely well-made man’s shirt, Janey noted. No prizes for guessing the identity of the original owner.

She waited until the coffee was made before saying anything. ’So who is he, Mum?’

‘Good heavens,’ countered Thea, a shade too brightly. ‘You’re the one who sold him the flowers, sweetheart. Surely you know who he is. Or did he run off without paying and you’re desperate to track him down?’

‘I know who he is. I wanted to know if you did.’ Thea laughed. ‘Well of course I do, darling! His name is Oliver and he’s madly in love with me.’

‘I meant do you know exactly who he is?’ Janey paused and sipped her coffee. ‘But it’s pretty obvious now that you do. For goodness sake, Mum, whatever do you think you’re doing?

What’s going on?’

‘I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss,’ said Thea crossly. ‘There’s absolutely nothing to get dramatic about. OK, so his name is Oliver Cassidy and he just happens to be the father of the photographer Maxine’s working for. Is that so terrible? Am I committing some hideous crime?’

‘You tell me.’ Janey, inwardly amazed at her ability to remain calm, sat back and crossed her legs. ‘Were you the one who came up with the idea of abducting his grandchildren?’

‘Of course I wasn’t. And there’s no need to make it sound like some kind of kidnapping,’

Thea countered. ‘He wanted to see them; he knew Guy would kick up all kinds of a fuss if he asked his permission, so he waited until he was away. Those children had a splendid afternoon, Oliver did what he came to Cornwall to do and nobody came to any harm.’

‘So you do know all about it,’ said Janey accusingly.

‘Maxine nearly lost her job as a result of that little escapade. And did dear Oliver tell you how he came to be estranged from his son? Did he explain exactly why Guy would have kicked up such a fuss?’

‘It was all a misunderstanding.’ Thea dismissed it with an airy gesture. ‘Oliver realizes now that he made a mistake, but it’s only gone on as long as it has because Guy overreacted. All families have disagreements, unfortunately. Oliver was unlucky enough to have his turned into some ridiculous, long-running feud. Darling, he was heartbroken about it! Seeing those dear little children, even if it was only for a few hours, did him all the good in the world.’

‘It wouldn’t have, if Guy had found out about it. He would have called the police.’

If there was one thing Thea couldn’t bear, it was being criticized by her own children. ‘And you’re on his side of course,’ she countered irritably. ‘Despite knowing nothing about what really happened. Just because he no doubt has a pretty face.’

Janey, determined not to rise to the bait, gritted her teeth. ‘But it’s OK for you to defend his father, just because he’s mad about you and stinking rich? Mum, what he did was wrong!’

‘Oh Janey, don’t get your knickers in a twist.’ Thea banged her coffee mug down on the table. ‘What happened wasn’t tragic. The real tragedy is Guy Cassidy’s pig-headed refusal to let bygones be bygones, because the children are the ones who suffer. All Oliver was trying to do was make it up to them.’

‘Really?’ Janey remained unimpressed. ‘And what’s he planning to do for an encore?

Whisk them out of the country for a few months?’

This was ridiculous. Thea’s expression softened. ‘Oliver would never do anything like that.

He’s a wonderful man, darling.’

Janey, who had thought Bruno was wonderful, replied unforgivingly, ‘I’m sure he is. As long as he’s getting his own way.’

There was a long silence. Finally, Thea said, ‘All right, so what happens now? What are you going to do for an encore?’

Janey, having already considered the options, shrugged. ‘You mean am I going to tell Guy?

I don’t know, Mum. The thing is, can you be sure his father isn’t, in some obscure way, just using you? I’m serious,’ she went on, when Thea started to smile. ‘It’s all highly coincidental, after all. You’re Maxine’s mother, and Maxine looks after Josh and Ella. How do you know he hasn’t hatched some sinister plan?’

‘Dear me.’ Her mother shook her head and gave her an indulgent look. ‘And ‘I thought Maxine was the drama queen of the family. Janey, take it from someone old enough to know.

There’s nothing even remotely sinister about Oliver Cassidy, and there are no ulterior motives on his part. He loves me, and I love him. I’m sorry if that doesn’t meet with the approval of Maxine’s employer but as far as I’m concerned, my private life is none of his business anyway.

And if you feel you have to tell him, then do it, though personally I can’t see the point. From what I hear, hugs and smiles and forgiveness-all-round is pretty much off the cards, so all you’d be doing would be stirring it up again for no useful reason. Still,’ she concluded with a take-it-or-leave-it gesture, ‘Those are just my thoughts. As I said, it’s entirely up to you.’

Janey was now more undecided than ever. What her mother had said made sense. Keeping quiet, on the other hand, meant assuming responsibility for the secret. And it also meant not telling Maxine, who would be sure to tell Guy herself. If anything should ever go wrong, she thought with unease, she would be at least partly to blame.

But Oliver Cassidy had seemed charming, and imprinted in her mind was the expression on his face as he’d written the brief message to accompany Thea’s flowers.

‘How do you know he loves you?’ she asked, gazing into her mother’s dark eyes.

‘I’ve had nearly thirty years to learn from my mistakes in that field,’ Thea replied simply.

‘This time it’s the real thing. Trust me, darling. When it happens like this, you do know ...’

In that case, thought Janey as memories of Alan and Bruno flooded back, why don’t I?

Torrential rain the next day meant an early wrap for the fashion shoot Guy had been working on in the Cotswolds. Home by four-thirty, he found Janey on the phone in the kitchen, the receiver tucked under her chin whilst she mashed parsnips with one hand and stirred a pan of gravy with the other. Her blond hair was loosely pinned up and the violet sweatshirt she wore over white jeans was slipping off one shoulder. Her cheeks, pink from the heat of the oven, turned pinker still when she realized he was back.

‘Oh, I didn’t hear you come in. Dinner won’t be ready for another hour yet ... but there’s tons of hot water if you’d like a bath.’

Maxine, on the other end of the phone, groaned. ‘Uh oh, enter the dragon. Don’t tell him it’s me.’

‘Who are you talking to?’ said Guy, his tone deceptively mild.

‘Nobody.’ Janey’s innocent expression was foiled by the tell-tale deepening flush. ‘A friend.’

‘Did anyone ever tell you you’re a hopeless liar?’With a brief smile he crossed the kitchen, took the phone from her and said, ‘Hello, Maxine.’

‘Oh God.’ In London, Maxine sighed. ‘Are you still mad at me?’

‘What do you think?’

‘You’re still mad,’ she said penitently. ‘And I know that what I did was wrong, but you just didn’t understand how important this job is to me. I’m sorry Guy, but I really was desperate ..

‘Hmmm.’ Glancing across at Janey, who was frenziedly tackling the parsnips and trying to look as if she wasn’t listening, he drawled, ‘Lucky for you you’ve got an understanding sister. I hope you appreciate the favour she’s done you.’

‘I do, I do.’ Maxine’s tone was fervent. Much to her relief, the expected bawling-out hadn’t happened. Not yet, anyway. Deciding to chance it, she added, ‘And aren’t you glad she’s there, too? She’s so much better at cooking than I am.’

‘She could hardly be any worse.’

‘And Josh and Ella think she’s terrific!’

‘Carry on like this and you’ll end up talking yourself out of a job. Or was that what you had in mind?’ he enquired evenly. ‘If you’ve landed the lead in some dazzling West End production, Maxine, I’d rather you told me now.’

‘Oh, but I haven’t! And I really don’t want to leave, Guy. I like working for you.’

‘But?’ he prompted, when it became apparent that Maxine hadn’t the courage to say the word herself.

She crossed her fingers, hard. ‘But we aren’t going to finish shooting until Saturday, so I won’t be able to get back before Sunday morning’ The words came out in an apologetic rush.

‘I’ve already asked Janey and she doesn’t mind a bit, but is that OK with you?’

If he was ever going to blow his top, it would happen now. As the silence lengthened, Maxine realized she was holding her breath.

‘Why,’ drawled Guy finally, ‘do I feel like a schoolboy who’s just found out the summer holidays are carrying on for an extra week?’

Was he furious?’ asked Cindy, who was wallowing in the jacuzzi. It was nice having Maxine as a temporary house-guest whilst her husband was abroad; it was almost like being single again, sharing a flat and gossiping until three in the morning over bottles of wine, about men.

‘He wasn’t furious at all.’ Maxine, perching on the edge of the bath, looked distinctly put out. ‘He was delighted.’

‘Isn’t that what you wanted?’

‘There’s a difference between agreeing to let me stay and being delighted,’ said Maxine moodily. ‘It would be nice to feel a little bit missed. From the sound of it, they’re having a whale of a time down there without me.’

‘Who knows?’ said Cindy, holding out her glass for a top-up. ‘Maybe something’s going on between them. They could be having a rip-roaring affair.’

‘Janey and Guy?’ Maxine laughed. ‘Now I know you’ve had too much to drink.’

‘I don’t see why it’s so funny. You told me he’d taken her to a party the other week,’ Cindy reminded her. ‘And he’s pretty irresistible, after all. Are you seriously telling me your sister would turn down the opportunity of a fling with Guy Cassidy?’

‘I’m telling you that I spent a good couple of months trying to persuade him to have a fling with me,’ said Maxine, tossing back her long blond hair and admiring her reflection in the full-length mirror. ‘And it didn’t bloody work. Boasting aside, darling, if he can ignore an offer like that, he’s hardly likely to be interested in Janey.’

Chapter 34

The phone rang again whilst Guy was taking a shower. Janey, picking it up, recognized titian-haired Charlotte’s voice at once. She could almost smell the perfume, too, oozing down the line at her from St Ives.

‘He’s upstairs in the shower,’ she told Charlotte, who had asked to speak to Guy in deeply husky tones. ‘Can I take a message?’

‘That isn’t Maxine.’ Huskiness gave way to suspicion. ‘Who am I speaking to?’

For a moment, Janey was tempted. Then, deciding that that would be cruel, she said,

‘Maxine’s taken a few days off. I’m just here looking after the children whilst she’s away.’

Charlotte, however, sounded unconvinced. ‘And you are ...?’

‘Janey. Maxine’s sister.’ She wondered whether an apology might be expected, for having been the cause of Charlotte’s abandonment at Bruno’s party. But she hadn’t dragged Guy away; if anything, he had dragged her.

‘Oh. Right.’ Thankfully, Charlotte didn’t mention it either. She sounded unflatteringly relieved, though, tohear that she wasn’t facing Serena-standard competition. ‘Well in that case, maybe you could ask Guy to call me back.’

Will do.’ Josh had crept barefoot into the kitchen behind her. Janey watched his reflected image in the window as he surreptitiously reached for the biscuit tin. ‘No more Jaffa cakes.’

Startled, Charlotte said, ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Sorry, I was speaking to somebody else.’

‘How did you know I was there?’ Josh protested. ‘I didn’t make any noise.’

‘I heard the Jaffa cakes screaming for help.’

‘Good Lord.’ Charlotte sounded amused. ‘Look, whilst you’re there, would you happen to know whether or not Guy has anything on tonight?’

‘Nothing at all at the moment,’ said Janey. ‘He’s in the shower.’

‘I mean any plans.’

‘I don’t think so. He told me I could go out for the evening if I wanted, so he must be staying in.’

‘Oh. And where are you going, somewhere nice?’

The CIA had nothing on Charlotte. Smiling to herself, Janey replied, ‘I don’t have any plans either. I’ll probably just stay here.’

‘That sounds nice.’ Charlotte sounded immeasurably cheered by the news. ‘OK then, if you could just ask Guy to ring me back as soon as he’s out of the shower. You won’t forget now, will you?’

‘Oh hell.’ Guy looked bored. ‘That means she’s going to invite me round for dinner.’

‘Stop eating, then,’ scolded Janey, because he’d already helped himself to three sausages and she hadn’t even dished up yet.

‘But I don’t want to go. No, I can’t face it.’ He shook his head. ‘She’ll float around in some kind of negligée and try to get me drunk so I won’t be able to drive home. When she phones back, say I’ve gone out.’

‘Then I’ll get the blame for not passing on the message,’ she protested. God, men were callous beasts. ‘No, you’ve got to ring her.’

Guy shrugged. ‘OK, I’ll tell her I’ve already made other arrangements.’

Janey looked shamefaced. ‘I said you hadn’t.’

‘Then I’ll tell her ‘I have to stay in and look after the kids because you’re going out.’

‘Oops,’ said Janey. ‘She’s already asked me that. I told her I wasn’t.’

He mimed mock despair. ‘So how long have you been taking this truth drug?’

‘I can’t help it,’ Janey protested with a grin. ‘I’m just a naturally honest person.’

‘One of you must have been adopted then. You can’t be Maxine’s sister.’

‘And you can’t keep changing the subject like this.’ In order to spur him into action, she whisked his plate out of reach. ‘She’s sitting at home, waiting for you to call her back. Do it.’

‘Now who’s being bossy?’ he grumbled, pinching yet another sausage from Ella’s plate as he headed for the kitchen phone. ‘You’re far nicer to my children than you are to me.’

Janey gave him a guileless smile. ‘You pay me to be nice to your children.’

‘She’d be nicer,’ Josh told his father, ‘if she didn’t make us help with the washing up.’

Just listening to Guy’s side of the phone call was uncomfortable enough. Janey, squirming on the other woman’s behalf, decided that if she were Charlotte she would have died of embarrassment. But still it went on, Guy tactfully saying no and Charlotte – clearly not embarrassed at all – shooting one excuse after another down in flames.

‘Look, maybe another time,’ he said eventually, several toe-curling minutes later. ‘But not tonight, Charlotte. Really. I have to be in London first thing tomorrow morning and it’s been a tough few days.Yes, I know that’s what I said last week, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t still true.’

More muffled protests ensued. Guy glanced across at Janey for help. She, unable to look at him, picked up the pepper mill and over-seasoned her baked tomatoes.

‘OK.’ He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘If you must know, I have to stay here tonight. It’s Janey; she’s absolutely petrified of being left alone in this house. Yes, ‘I know it sounds ridiculous but she has this thing about burglars breaking in with shotguns. We’re so isolated here, you see; ‘I only have to mention going out for the evening and she starts gibbering with fear. Charlotte, I’m sorry but you have to understand, I can’t possibly abandon her ...’

‘Thanks a lot,’ said Janey, when he returned to the table. ‘Why are all men such shameless liars?’

The first four excuses were true.’ He gave her a whatcan-you-do shrug. ‘And she didn’t believe any of them. Sometimes you have to resort to a little elaboration.’

It was certainly instructive, seeing the situation from a male point of view. Curious, she said, ‘But if you aren’t, you know ... well, interested in her, why don’t you just say so?’

Josh and Ella, evidently accustomed to such goings-on, were unfazed by the conversation.

‘He tried doing that last week,’ Josh explained kindly. ‘But all she did was cry. Then she phoned Dad back, right in the middle of Coronation Street, and cried some more.’

‘So he took the telephone off the hook,’ said Ella. ‘But that didn’t work either. She got into her car and came here, still crying. It was really mean of her,’ she added, her expression indignant. ‘It was only eight o’clock and it wasn’t even our fault, but we had to go up to bed.’

‘You see?’ protested Guy. ‘I get the blame for everything. I can’t do anything right.’

Janey, still acutely aware of the fact that she had made almost as much of an idiot of herself with Bruno, couldn’t help feeling sorry for Charlotte who was probably weeping buckets right now.

‘You must have led her on.’ She tried to look disapproving. ‘If you really don’t want to see her again, it would be far kinder to say so and put her out of her misery.’

He looked surprised. ‘Rather than let her down gently?’

‘There’s nothing worse than not knowing where you stand.’ Janey spoke with feeling. She lowered her voice, although Josh and Ella had by this time lost interest. ‘You should tell her, you know. It’ll be easier all round if you do. Even Charlotte will appreciate it in the long run.’

‘Oh hell.’ He gave a sigh of resignation. ‘I hate these emotional showdowns. This is going to be no fun at all.’

At least he wasn’t the one being dumped. Janey wondered if he’d ever been on the receiving end of a verbal ‘Dear John’. Somehow, she seriously doubted it.

‘You’ll go and see her then? Tonight?’

With reluctance, he nodded. Then grinned. ‘Only if you’re sure you can cope with being left alone in the house for an hour or so?’

‘Oh, I think I can stand it,’ said Janey bravely. ‘If any burglars turn up, I’ll just send them into Maxine’s bedroom.That should be enough to put them off looting and pillaging for life.’

By the time he got back it was almost nine-thirty. Janey had put Josh and Ella to bed and was finishing the washing up.

‘Leave that,’ said Guy, opening a bottle of wine and taking two glasses out of the cupboard.

‘Come and help me drink this. I need it.’

Was it awful?’

He ran his fingers through his dark hair and pulled a face. ‘Pretty much. Shit, I feel like such a bastard. She said she wished she’d never met me.’

‘She didn’t mean it,’ said Janey consolingly. ‘She just feels let down. Charlotte liked you more than you liked her, that’s all. And when it ends, it hurts.’

‘That’s what she said,’ mused Guy. ‘The trouble is, she blames me. But you have to get to know someone before you can decide whether or not you’re suited. By the time you realize the relationship doesn’t have a future, it’s too late. They like you, so they end up getting hurt.’ He paused, then added, ‘Hardly an earth-shattering revelation, I know. It’s just that I’ve never really discussed it with anyone before.’

‘Whereas we women discuss it all the time,’ said Janey with a grin. ‘I told you, you should have stuck at those books of Mimi’s. They’d have taught you everything you needed to know.’

‘I thought you were supposed to be having an early night,’ she protested three hours later.

This was an altogether different Janey from the one he had taken away from Bruno’s party, Guy reflected. Now, relaxed and perfectly at ease, interested in hearing what he had to say yet at the same time totally unpushy, she had managed to make him forget the time completely. And he, too, was relaxed; it was such a relief to be able to talk to someone who wasn’t even attempting to flirt with him or advance her own cause.

But despite Janey’s apparent conviction that she was less attractive than her younger sister, he didn’t agree. Tonight, wearing virtually no make-up, with her honey-blond hair loosely held up with combs and her violet sweatshirt still slipping off one shoulder, he found her uncontrived beauty infinitely more attractive. Her summer tan showed no signs of fading, her complexion was flawless and those conker-brown eyes, alight with humour, didn’t need shadows and eyeliners to make themspectacular; just as the soft, perfectly shaped mouth had nothing to gain by being plastered with lipstick.

He found himself comparing their manner with the children too, for although Josh and Ella adored Maxine and her slapdash, highly individual ways, her wit was on occasions too acute for comfort, leaving them unsure whether or not she had actually meant it. Maxine could be unpredictable, which in turn made Ella edgy and Josh mildly resentful. Young children appreciated continuity and the security of knowing just where they stood. Berenice, of course, had been stability personified, whilst Maxine was all fun and back-chat, but if he could choose the ideal nanny, Guy realized, it would be someone like Janey, who tempered control with gentle humour. She was also easy on the eye – unlike poor Berenice, he thought with a stab of guilt –

extremely good company and not the least bit interested in shooting off at short notice to star in toilet-roll commercials.

‘Any more news about your father?’ she said suddenly. Guy, who had been pouring out the last of the Beaujolais, gave her a stern look.

‘And there ‘I was, just thinking what a nice person you were.’

‘I’m still a nice person,’ said Janey innocently. ‘I wondered whether there’d been any developments, that’s all.’

‘None. Every time ‘I rang his home number the answering machine was switched on. In the end I stopped trying.’

‘What would you have said, though? If you had spoken to him?’

‘I’d have told him to keep away from my home and my children.’ Guy’s expression was stony, unforgiving. ‘I’d have told him that if he ever tries a stunt like that again I’ll call the police.’

‘But if he apologized,’ she persisted, tucking her bare feet beneath her and leaning forwards to reach for the refilled glass, ‘and begged you to forgive him, do you think you could?’

‘Oh yes.’ His eyes darkened. ‘Highly likely.’

‘I mean it,’ said Janey. ‘Come on, think it through. He might really regret what happened and now all he wants to do is get to know his grandchildren and make up for lost time.’ Her expression was oddly intense.

Guy, however, had made his own mind up long ago. ‘You’ve been watching too much Little House on the Prairie,’ he told her, before she could open her mouth and say more. No, Janey. I never want to see my father again and I don’t want the children to have anything to do with him either, so don’t even try and talk me round. This is one happy family reunion that definitely isn’t going to happen.’

Oh well, thought Janey. Sorry, Oliver. At least you can’t say I didn’t try.

Chapter 35

Every year in the second week of October the travelling fair came to Trezale, setting up its comfortingly familiar pattern of stalls, side-shows, candy-floss stands and mechanical rides along the high street with the dodgems, ghost train and big wheel taking pride of place at the top end.

Everyone went to the fair; it was a landmark event on the social calendar. Josh and Ella, in a frenzy of excitement at the prospect of spending all their money and spinning themselves sick on the waltzers, were practically counting the minutes until Friday night.

Janey was stunned, however, by Guy’s reaction when he called her from his car phone on the M5 on his way back from a fashion shoot in Bath.

‘Josh says you’ve promised they can stay out until midnight,’ she told him. ‘I need a voice of authority here. What time do they have to be home?’

‘What do you mean, they?’ Guy demanded. ‘We go home whenever we like.’

‘You mean you’re coming with us?’

‘Why else would I complete a six-hour shoot in three and a half hours?’ He sounded amused. ‘And skip dinner with Kate Moss. Of course I’m coming with you.’

‘Gosh,’ said Janey. ‘Somehow I hadn’t imagined you as a fairground lover.’

‘No? What kind of lover had you imagined me as?’

‘I meant—’

‘I know what you meant.’ Guy laughed. ‘And it’s OK, you can stop blushing now. Look, I’ll be home by six, so just tell the kids to hang on. Don’t you dare leave without me.’

Josh and Ella had, over the years, grown used to it. Since it was practically the entire reason Maxine had taken the job in the first place, she would have enjoyed every minute. Janey, however, cringed. It was a frosty evening, her nose was probably pink with cold and her hair had been whisked to a frenzy on the Octopus. It was all right for Guy; he was the one taking roll after roll of film with the new camera, but she wasn’t used to finding herself on the receiving end of a lens. As far as she was concerned, it was a distinctly nerve-racking experience.

And he was using up film at a rate of knots.

‘Haven’t you finished yet?’ It sounded ungracious, but she wished he would stop. Being asked to test out the latest Olympus was all very well, but this was downright off-putting. She didn’t know where to look.

‘No need to panic,’ said Guy. ‘It isn’t as if I’m asking you to pose and smile. Just ignore me.’

Janey scowled. ‘How can ‘I ignore you when I know my nose is red?’

‘Don’t be so vain,’ he chided briskly. ‘I’m trying out a new camera, not using you for the cover of Vogue. So relax .. ‘Quick, Daddy!’ Ella, who wasn’t the least bit camera-shy, screamed with delight. ‘Take one of me with candy floss all over my face.’

Janey was eating a toffee apple when a male voice behind her said, ‘Well, hello. Having fun?’

Swinging round, she saw that it was Alexander Norcross, Mr Presentable himself, looking very smart in a charcoal-grey Crombie and with a plump, shivering brunette in tow.

‘Oh hi.’ She probably had bits of toffee stuck to her teeth but she smiled anyway. ‘Yes, we’re having a great time.’

Ella tugged at her arm. ‘Janey, can you lend me fifty pence for the hoop-la?’

‘Rip-off, these places.’ Alexander glanced down at Ella, who had just proved his point.

‘How these people have the nerve to charge fifty pence for the opportunity to win something that costs ten, ‘I don’t know. If you ask me, there should be a law against it.’

Smart but mean, recalled Janey, pressing a pound coin into Ella’s gloved hand. With exaggerated politeness she said, ‘Oh dear, does that mean you aren’t enjoying yourself?’

‘I’m not saying that,’ protested Alexander. ‘Fairgrounds can be entertaining, so long as you don’t waste your cash. We’ve been here for almost two hours now,’ he added with evident pride,

‘and it hasn’t even been necessary to open my wallet. Now that’s what ‘I call real value for money.’

The brunette didn’t just have a red nose, she was almost blue with cold all over.

‘You mean he hasn’t bought you a cup of coffee?’ Janey looked shocked. ‘Alexander, this poor girl is going to end up with frostbite. What she needs is a hot espresso and a couple of stiff brandies to warm her up.’

The girl, looking almost pathetically grateful, said, ‘That would be nice. Alex, could we do that?’

‘Are you cold?’ He sounded surprised. ‘Well, maybe it is time we made a move. I know.

We’ll get back to my house and have a nice cup of tea.’

Janey had the urge to scream: ‘Make him take you to an expensive restaurant! Better still, tell him to take an almighty running jump into the sea ...’

But she didn’t, and the next moment Josh and Guy arrived back from the shooting gallery.

Guy, realizing that she was talking to someone she knew, hung back and maintained a discreet distance. Josh, who was far more interested in money than discretion, charged up to Janey and yelled frantically, ‘Quick, I’ve run out of change!’

‘Two kids,’ Alexander remarked, when Josh had pocketed another pound coin and shot off to join Ella. ‘Well, well. So you found yourself a family man. Bad luck, Jane.’

Janey risked a glance over his shoulder. Ten feet away and eavesdropping shamelessly, Guy grinned.

‘Bad luck?’

‘Oh well, maybe you get on well with them.’ Alexander shuddered with disapproval. ‘Some girls don’t mind that kind of set-up, after all. But you do want to be careful, Jane. Single mothers are bad enough, but single fathers are an even dodgier prospect. Is he interested in you, or is he just desperate to find someone to look after the house and kiddies?’

‘Gosh.’ Not daring to meet Guy’s gaze, Janey bit her lip and looked worried. ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that. You mean all he’s really after is some kind of substitute nanny?’

‘That’s exactly what I mean,’ Alexander declared with a knowledgeable nod. ‘You see, nannies don’t come cheap and they aren’t always one hundred per cent reliable. As far as the man’s concerned, it’s simpler and more economical in the long run to find himself a new wife.’

Guy, approaching them, gave Janey a ghost of a wink. She didn’t even flinch when he slipped his arm around her waist and gave her a fleeting kiss on the cheek.

‘Darling, I thought I’d lost you. We really should be getting home, you know. It’s way past Ella’s bedtime.’

Janey gave him a cold stare. ‘Oh dear, is it? Well in that case we’d better run.’

‘What’s the matter?’ Guy raised his eyebrows. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘I don’t know,’ she replied evenly. ‘But I think I’m about to find out. Let me ask you a question, Guy. Did you invite me to move in with you because you loved me or because you needed someone to take care of your children?’

His smile faded. After some consideration he said, ‘Well, sweetheart. If you think back, I didn’t actually invite you to move in with me at all. As far as I recall, I arrived back from Amsterdam one night and there you were, unpacking your suitcases and generally making yourself at home. Not that I’m complaining of course, but--’

‘But you do love me?’ A note of hysteria crept into Janey’s voice. ‘If we’re going to get married next week I need to know if you really love me.’

Alexander and the brunette stood in fascinated silence. Janey prayed Josh and Ella wouldn’t pick this moment to come back.

‘Sweetheart, of course I do.’ Guy gave her a placatory hug. ‘We all do. In fact the kids are so smitten, I’ve decided to sack the nanny. From now on you can look after them all by yourself.

Now isn’t that just the most wonderful surprise?’

‘That’s it,’ she said flatly. ‘The wedding’s off.’

The brunette, who had been staring at Guy, snapped her fingers. ‘I know who you are.You’re Guy Cassidy, the photographer.’ Her eyes widened. ‘You’re famous.’

‘Doesn’t stop him being a cheapskate double-crossing toad,’ Janey snapped.

‘Guy Cassidy?’ said Alexander, deeply impressed. ‘The Guy Cassidy? Of course you are!

Hey, it’s really nice to meet you.’

‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this.’ Janey glared at Alexander. ‘You’ve just told me not to marry him and now you’re fawning all over him like some kind of groupie!’

Guy frowned. ‘He told you not to marry me? Why ever would he say a thing like that?

Janey, you’re making it up.’

‘Look, I’m sorry.’ Alexander shook his head. ‘I didn’t know it was you.’

‘Too late,’ declared Janey, prising Guy’s hand from her arm. ‘I wouldn’t marry him now if he was Mel Gibson.’

Chapter 36

‘And I thought Maxine was the actress.’ He caught up with her by the win-a-goldfish stall, where Ella and Josh were engrossed in the task of flipping rubber frogs on to lily pads. ‘Carry on like that and you’ll end up starring in toilet-roll commercials.’

Janey grinned.The expression on Alexander’s face had been superb. It was a shame Guy couldn’t have captured it on film.

‘You started it.’

‘Couldn’t resist it. My God, when I heard what he was saying to you; no wonder you’re wary of men.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘I must say, you certainly know some extraordinary people.’

At least he didn’t know how she’d met Alexander, Janey thought with some relief. He’d already caught her out once, and that was enough.

‘My bloody frogs keep falling in the water!’ complained Ella, unaware of Guy behind her.

He tapped her on the shoulder.

‘Oh, sorry Daddy.’ She gave him an angelic, gap-toothed smile.

‘Good.’ Guy winked at Janey. ‘Because we don’t want any bloody goldfish anyway.’

‘My feet ache,’ said Janey as they made their way back to the car two hours later.

Josh and Ella, clutching helium balloons, armfuls of Day-Glo furry toys and an inflatable giant squid, were running on ahead, the squid’s pink plastic tentacles wrapping themselves around Ella’s legs as she struggled to keep up with Josh.

‘My wallet aches.’ Guy gave her a rueful look. ‘I’m financially destitute. And all because my daughter fell in love with a squid.’

‘And you didn’t enjoy trying to win it?’ Janey mocked. ‘Come on, you loved every minute on that rifle range.’

‘I would have loved it even more if the sights hadn’t been ninety degrees out. Fifteen quid for a squid,’ he groaned. ‘And what’s the betting that by tomorrow morning it’ll have a puncture.’

‘Stop complaining. You’ve had a wonderful time.’

‘OK, so maybe I have.’ He grinned.The next moment, he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him, so abruptly that Janey almost lost her footing.

‘Wha—’

‘Sorry, dog shit on the pavement,’ said Guy romantically. ‘You almost stepped in it.’

‘My hero,’ Janey murmured, because although she had regained her balance he hadn’t released his hold on her. If she moved away she would feel silly – it was hardly the romantic gesture of the decade, after all – but at the same time she couldn’t help wondering what Josh and Ella would make of it if they should choose this moment to turn round. Why, she thought with some embarrassment,was he doing this? Why wasn’t he saying anything? And why didn’t he just let go?

Guy was deep in thought. He wasn’t normally slow off the mark but something had just occurred to him, something quite unexpected, and it needed some serious thinking about.

The big stumbling block, he now realized, had been the fact that Janey’s unfortunate past had rendered her so totally off-limits from the start. With a history like hers, the last thing she needed was the kind of involvement which could only bring more pain. And when you were a man with a history like his, thought Guy grimly, it was easier simply to steer clear. As he’d told her himself only days earlier, his relationships had a habit of coming to grief. He didn’t do it deliberately but it happened anyway. He always seemed to be the one at fault. And it was always the other person who got hurt.

But although he hadn’t even allowed the possibility to cross his mind before, Guy now acknowledged the fact that he had been deluding himself. Throughout the past week he’d been telling himself what a great nanny Janey was. In truth, he realized, it was the simple fact of her being there that had been great.

One of the major points in her favour, however, was also one of the major drawbacks, and it was something else with which he was woefully unfamiliar. Janey didn’t flirt, and he didn’t know if that was because she simply wasn’t a flirtatious person, or if it meant she didn’t find him worth flirting with. Consequently, he had no idea whether or not she was even faintly attracted to him.Their relationship up until now had been entirely platonic. Over the months - and not without the occasional hiccup along the way - a friendship had been forged. Aside from that, he just didn’t know how Janey felt about him.

And all of a sudden it mattered terribly. The idea that she might not return his feelings was galling to say the least. It wasn’t the kind of problem he’d ever had to deal with before; he wanted Janey to like him, but how on earth was he going to find out if she did?

Belatedly, Guy realised he was still holding on to her arm. Now he felt plain stupid. Should he carry on and see if she objected, or oh-so-casually let go? It was the kind of dilemma more normally faced by teenagers.

It was his own daughter who came to the rescue. Ella, struggling to disentangle her legs from the tentacles of the squid, slipped off the kerb and landed, with a piercing shriek, flat on her face in the gutter.

She was shaken but not hurt. As he lifted her to her feet and brushed a couple of dry leaves from her white-blond hair, Guy was reminded of his first meeting with Véronique, in another gutter all those years ago. She hadn’t flirted with him either, he recalled; she had simply been herself, take it or leave it, and allowed him to make all the running. Falling in love with her had happened so fast, and had been so easy, he would never have believed at the time that waiting for it to happen again could take so long. But finding someone else to fall in love with, he reflected ruefully, hadn’t been easy at all.

‘You’re all right,’ said Janey, wiping a lone tear from Ella’s cheek with her knuckle. ‘No damage, sweetheart. The squid broke your fall.’

‘He’s hissing.’ Ella stopped crying in order to listen. ‘Ican hear him making a funny noise.’

‘That’s because he’s a hero,’ Janey replied gravely. ‘He saved you from being hurt, and punctured a tentacle in the process. Don’t worry, we’ll stick a plaster on it when we get home.’

By the time they reached the car, Guy had come to a decision. He didn’t want to risk rocking the boat whilst Janey was looking after the children. But Maxine would be back on Sunday, and it would be perfectly in order for him to take Janey out to dinner on Sunday night by way of thanking her for having stepped into the breach. This meant he had two days in which to plan what he was going to say .. .

The traffic was nose to tail along the high street where the fair had set up, so he took a left into the road which would take them past Janey’s shop and up out of the town. He would take her somewhere really special on Sunday, he decided; maybe the new restaurant in Zennor that everyone was talking about. Would vintage champagne impress or alarm her? Should he take the car or would a cab be better? Or how about flying to Paris, would she think he was being flash?

Was that too overthe-top for—?

‘Stop!’ shrieked Janey. ‘Oh my God, stop the car!’

So wrapped up in his own thoughts that for a fraction of a second it seemed as if she had read his mind, Guy slammed on the brakes and screeched to a halt at the side of the road. Janey, white-faced, was staring back at the darkened shop. Guy followed her gaze; something was evidently wrong but he didn’t know what. The windows were still intact, the door hadn’t been smashed down, the building wasn’t going up in flames .. . What is it?’

He put out his hand but she was already struggling out of her seatbelt, still staring and apparently unable to speak. As she fumbled for the door handle he saw how violently her hands were shaking.

‘Janey, what’s the matter?’ He spoke more sharply than he had intended. In the back seat, Josh and Ella were craning their necks in order to see what was going on.

‘Is it a burglar?’ Josh sounded excited. He had glimpsed a figure sitting in the shadows of the recessed entrance to the shop, but burglars, he felt, didn’t usually stop for a rest.

‘It isn’t a burglar.’ Janey’s voice sounded odd, as if she hadn’t used it for a long time.The handle of the passenger door having defeated her, she said numbly, ‘Can you open this for me please?’

‘Who is it?’ Guy had already figured it out for himself but he asked the question anyway.

‘My husband. Alan. It’s ... my husband.’

She was evidently in a state of deep shock. Guy hesitated, wondering what he should do. At this moment he doubted whether Janey could even stand upright, let alone cross the road unaided.

He was also seized, quite abruptly, with the almost overwhelming urge to cross the road himself and batter Alan Sinclair to a pulp. Because he wasn’t dead, he’d never been dead, and he had no right to put Janey through two years of hell and still have the nerve to be alive.

‘Why don’t you wait here?’ He spoke in soothing tones,as if she were a child. ‘Just stay in the car and let me speak to him.’

But Janey turned to stare at him as if he had gone irredeemably mad. What?’

Josh and Ella, in the back seat, listened in dumbstruck silence.

‘I said, let me just—’

‘I heard you,’ she replied through gritted teeth. ‘And ‘I can’t believe you have the bloody nerve to even think of such a thing. If you saw your wife, Guy, what would you do? Sit in the car and let me go and have a word with her?’

As a counter-attack it was horribly below the belt, but Janey didn’t even stop to consider what she was saying.

‘Véronique is dead,’ Guy murmured. ‘Your husband is alive.’

‘Of course he’s alive,’ shrieked Janey, almost beside herself with rage. ‘That’s why I’d quite like to see him, you stupid bastard, except that I can’t bloody see him because you won’t switch off the stupid child-lock on this stupid bloody door!’

He flicked the switch.

‘There. Janey, all I’m saying is be careful. Ask yourself why he left and why he’s decided to come back.’

But it was too late. She was already out of the car.

‘Oh Dad!’ wailed Ella, as he put the car into gear. ‘This is exciting! Can’t we stay and watch?’

‘No.’ Guy’s jaw was set, the expression in his eyes unreadable. ‘We can’t.’

Chapter 37

‘My God, I don’t believe it,’ sighed Maxine. ‘What is this, some kind of sick joke? Did they move April Fool’s day?’

Bruno put his hand out to steady her glass, which was tilting alarmingly.

‘Careful,’ he said, at the same time admiring her cleavage. ‘Didn’t you read the government health warning on the bottle? Red wine on a white dress can seriously damage your night.’

The dress, which had cost a scary amount of money, was an Azzedine Alaia. Moreover, it belonged to Cindy, who had threatened her with certain death if anything untoward happened to it. Mindful of the warning, Maxine placed the glass on a table out of harm’s way.

‘My night’s already been damaged,’ she said rudely. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

Bruno grinned. ‘Just one of those fateful coincidences, I suppose. Jamie Laing’s an old friend of mine. When he called last week and invited me to the party I didn’t even think I’d be able to get up here, but my new assistant manager was keen to work this weekend, so ...’ He shrugged and gestured around the room. ‘It seemed likea nice idea. Now why don’t I ask how you came to be invited to this party? Or maybe it isn’t a coincidence at all. Maybe you’re following me.’

‘Oh, absolutely,’ declared Maxine, the words dripping sarcasm. But the urge to show off was simply irresistible. Glimpsing a semi-familiar face in the crowd, she waved over Bruno’s shoulder, realizing too late that the face belonged to an actor whom she had only seen on television. At least Bruno hadn’t witnessed the actor’s blank stare. ‘Sorry, so many old friends,’

she said airily. ‘Me? Oh, Jamie’s a darling, isn’t he? I’ve been up here all week, shooting a commercial with him. It’s all gone wonderfully well, he’s predicting great things for me if I decide to give the acting business another go.’

‘So you’d leaveTrezale?’ Bruno, equally unable to resist putting her down, looked sympathetic. ‘Oh dear, you mean persuading Guy Cassidy that you were the woman of his dreams didn’t work out? Must have been a bit of a kick in the teeth for you.’

‘A kick in the teeth for me?’ Maxine gave him a condescending smile. ‘Bruno, men like you are the reason women like me wear stiletto heels. Is being obnoxious a hobby of yours, or are you just particularly miffed because I turned down your own touching little offer of a quickie in the back seat of your car?’

She was wonderful, he thought, filled with silent admiration. He adored almost everything about Maxine Vaughan, from those fabulous bare shoulders right down to that pair of ridiculously high heels. But if the body was terrific, the mind was even more entrancing. She could trade insults like no female he had ever met before, she was sharp and funny, a talented liar, and out for everything she could possibly get.They were alike in every way. Best of all, he thought with a barely suppressed smile, she was as mad about him as he was about her.

‘I wasn’t miffed,’ he replied easily, leaning against the wall and running his fingers carelessly through his hair. The emerald-green wallpaper matched his eyes and offset his deep purple jacket to perfection. ‘You were being loyal to your sister; an admirable quality in any girl, but especially you.’

He thought he looked so great, thought Maxine, with all that streaky blond hair and that toffee-brown tan. He was only resting against the wall because the colour of it went so well with his jacket. And he had some nerve, too; you had to be unbelievably un-gay in order to get away with wearing a jacket like that over an ochre tee-shirt and pale yellow trousers. She was only surprised it wasn’t smothered in bloody sequins .. .

‘I told Janey she should never have got involved with you,’ she declared, ignoring the last jibe. ‘I knew exactly what would happen and I was right. Tell me, does it give you some kind of thrill, finding some vulnerable female and tearing her to pieces like that?’

‘I didn’t actually set out to hurt her,’ Bruno protested with a good-humoured shake of his head. ‘Believe it or not Janey couldn’t accept the way I am, that was all.’

‘You mean she couldn’t accept the fact that you’re such a bastard?’There was derision in Maxine’s eyes. ‘Or that you deliberately humiliated her in front of two hundred people at your stinking rotten party?’

‘Maybe I went a bit far.’ Despite the admission, Brunowas still smiling. ‘But she started it.

All I did was retaliate and she didn’t even fight back. Let’s face it, Janey’s too nice.’ He shrugged. ‘We really weren’t suited at all.’

‘You can say that again.’

‘Ah well, these things happen. I suppose she hates me now.’

Cindy, who had appeared behind Bruno, was wriggling her eyebrows in a gesture of deepest appreciation. Maxine, pretending she hadn’t noticed, snapped, ‘You can definitely say that again.’

‘Good.’ He glanced over his shoulder, winked at Cindy, then returned his attention to Maxine. ‘So loyalty is no longer an issue.You can stop pretending, sweetheart. We just take it from here.’

As he said the words he moved closer, lowering his voice accordingly. For something to do, Maxine reached for her drink and took a great slug of red wine. The glass remained in her hand, between them, on a level with Bruno’s trousers.

‘Armani versus Alaia,’ he observed in conversational tones. ‘We’re talking serious money.’

‘You think you’re so irresistible,’ Maxine drawled. ‘Don’t you?’

‘Not at all.’ Bruno removed the glass from her hand, drained it and put it out of reach. ‘I’m just honest. Maxine, I admire you enormously for your loyalty towards your sister, but it’s different now. You can relax. We’re both three hundred miles from home. Janey hates me. As far as I’m concerned, you are the most delectable female I’ve ever known and as far as you’re concerned, you fancy me rotten. So why don’t we stop playing games and simply admit how we feel about each other? OK,’ he conceded, ‘so it’s a massive coincidence, but since we’re both here in London at the same party, why waste time? Why don’t we just take advantage of the situation and enjoy it?’

Coincidence had had precious little to do with it, other than the fact that Jamie Laing really was a friend of Bruno’s. Upon hearing from his new waitress that according to her son – who attended the same school as Josh Cassidy – Josh’s nanny was doing a TV commercial with someone called Jamie, all it had taken was a phone call. He had practically invited himself along to the endof-ad party at Jamie’s elegant, three-storey Chelsea home. His appearance there tonight might have caught Maxine off-guard but he had been rehearsing these lines for days.

Maxine fixed him with an unswerving gaze. Beneath a great deal of gold eyeshadow and at least three coats of mascara, her dark eyes were serious.

‘You really think,’ she said, very slowly, ‘I fancy you rotten?’

‘I don’t think.’ Bruno gave her a modest smile. ‘It’s a fact.’

‘Shit!’ howled Maxine. ‘That is just so unfair. How could you possible know?’

The fact that she was wearing those ludicrous high heels didn’t bother Bruno in the least; he didn’t care that at this moment she was a couple of inches taller than him. Leaning across, he kissed her very lightly on the mouth.

‘I’m an expert,’ he said, then broke into a grin. ‘But even if I hadn’t been, I would still have known. It was obvious from the start, angel. You might be able to actbut even you aren’t that good.’

This was unbelievable. Talk about one-upmanship, thought Maxine, torn between admiration for such a talent and annoyance because if there was one thing she couldn’t stand, it was being seen through. And she had thought she’d done so well, too. Damn, damn, damn!

‘You don’t even know me.’ She looked cross. Not properly, anyway.’

‘Don’t sulk,’ Bruno chided. ‘And of course I know you, as well as I know myself. I told you before, we’re alike. I’ve never met anyone as much like me before in my life. That was why it was so easy. Looking at you is like looking into a mirror.’

‘Except I wear more make-up.’ Hopelessly unprepared for such a turn of events, Maxine resorted to flippancy. It gave her time to think.

But she had reckoned without his ability to read minds.

‘You’re also more nervous,’ Bruno replied, sliding his arm around her waist. ‘And there’s no need to be. Stop trying to analyse it, sweetheart. It’s happened, whether you like it or not.

Some things are just out of our control. All we have to do now is enjoy it.’

He was breathtakingly self-confident. Maxine decided with some regret that he was also right.

‘Has it even occurred to you that I might say no?’ she asked, because it went against the grain to be too much of a pushover.

Bruno grinned. ‘What would be the point? We both know you’re going to say yes.’

Everything seemed to be happening in ultra-slow motion.

Just crossing the street was like climbing Everest. Janey, dimly aware of Guy’s Mercedes accelerating away behind her, felt the muscles in her legs contract with each step. She listened to the sound of her own uneven breathing and she saw the figure in the shop doorway turn in her direction, tilting his head in that achingly familiar way.

Still numb with shock, she tried to formulate some kind of plan. It was so strange, she had no idea what she was going to say. All she could think of was the fact that her hands were cold.

Alan had always hated being touched by cold hands. If she touched him, would he wince and draw away? Should she just keep her hands jammed in her pockets? God, was this really happening?

‘Janey.’

It had taken forever but somehow she had made it across the street. Her heart was pounding in her ears and she still couldn’t speak but to Janey’s immense relief she didn’t need to because Alan was saying it all for her, pulling her into his arms and hugging her so tightly she could hardly breathe. Over and over again, as he covered her face with kisses, he murmured ‘Janey, oh Janey, I’ve missed you so much ... you don’t know how long I’ve dreamt of this day.’

‘You’re alive,’ she murmured finally, touching his face as if to prove it beyond all doubt.

His cheek was warm and her hands were cold but he didn’t flinch away. She had almost forgotten how good-looking he was.The sun-bleached hair was shorter; the face, confusingly, looked both older and younger and a new, pale scar bisected his left eyebrow. But the eyes, light blue and fringed with long lashes, were as clear as they had always been. They,at least, were unchanged. The eyes, and that hypnotically reassuring voice .. .

‘Oh my poor darling,’ Alan whispered tenderly, taking her icy fingers and pressing them to his lips. ‘Don’t say that; I can’t bear to imagine what I must have put you through. All I can say is that at the time I thought I was making the right decision for both of us. The trouble was,’ he went on, breaking into a sad smile, ‘no matter what I did or how hard I tried, and God knows I tried, I could never stop loving you.’

Chapter 38

Stupidly, she had almost forgotten that the flat had been Alan’s home too. It seemed odd, watching him walk into the kitchen and know without having to ask where things were.

‘It should be champagne, of course,’ he said cheerfully, uncapping the half-empty bottle of cooking brandy that was all Janey had in the way of something to drink, ‘but you look as if you could do with warming up, so .. . cheers.’

He had filled her balloon glass almost to the brim. With a trembling hand Janey raised it to her lips and gulped down several eye-watering mouthfuls, willing it to have some kind of effect on her numbed brain. She had fantasized over this scene a thousand times, her fevered imagination running riot as she covered every possible eventuality. It had never even crossed her mind that she might be so lost for words she would barely be able to say anything at all.

There were still too many questions to be answered. Alan had disappeared from her life and she didn’t know why. Now he was back and she was still none the wiser. The brandy, however, was beginning to make its presence known; she could feel that much, at least.

‘Sit down,’ she said haltingly, when Alan had switched on the gas fire and paused to admire the new painting above the mantelpiece. ‘You’d better explain everything. Right from the start. I need to know why you did it.’

She had chosen the armchair for herself. Alan sat on the sofa opposite, nursing his drink and looking contrite.

‘I want you to know, Janey, that I’m desperately ashamed of myself. I took the coward’s way out, I realize that now, but it really didn’t seem like that at the time. ‘I was under pressure, confused, I couldn’t figure out any other way of going about it without causing you even more pain.’

As far as Janey was concerned, even more pain was a physical impossibility. She had hit the threshold and stayed there, trapped like a bluebottle stuck to flypaper.

‘Go on,’ she said briefly, her eyes clouded with the unbearable memories of those first months. ‘What are you trying to tell me, that you’d met someone else?’

‘No!’ He looked appalled. ‘Janey, absolutely not. Oh God, is that what you thought?’

Impatience began to stir inside her. ‘I didn’t know what to think,’ she replied evenly. ‘I tried everything, but there were never any answers. And you weren’t there to ask.’

Alan had known this wasn’t going to be easy. He shook his head and tried again. ‘I know, and it was all my fault. What’s the expression? Be careful what you wish for, because you may get it.’

Janey stared at him.

‘Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart, please. The truth is, I loved you too much. You were what I wished for, and I got you.’ He hesitated for a second, then went on, ‘And it scared the hell out of me. It became a kind of obsession, you see; I managed to convince myself that sooner or later you would fall out of love with me. It’s a terrible feeling, Janey, to think you aren’t good enough for your own wife. It was all right for you; you knew how much you meant to me, but all I felt was more and more insecure. Every single morning I’d wake up and ask myself whether this would be the day you’d decide you’d had enough of being married. To someone,’ he concluded brokenly, ‘who didn’t deserve you.’

He’d stopped speaking. It was Janey’s turn. Her glass was empty and she’d almost forgotten how to breathe.

‘But that’s crazy,’ she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper. Of all the possible reasons she had come up with, this was one she had never for a moment even considered. ‘We were married, we were happy together.’ - ‘Yes, it was crazy.’ Alan nodded, his expression regretful. ‘I know that now, but at the time I think I was a little bit crazy myself. It was a kind of self-torture, and I couldn’t break the cycle. The more I thought about it, the more real it became.

And the fact that you seemed happy no longer counted for anything, because I’d convinced myself that you were only putting on some elaborate act for my benefit. You read about it all the time in the papers; it happens every day, for God’s sake. Perfect couples with apparently perfect marriages, except they aren’t perfect at all. Suddenly, out of the blue, the wife or husband says they can’t stand it any more; they hire a hit-man or simply up and leave with their secret lover.

Janey, it got so bad I had to get away. I didn’t want to go, but it seemed like the only option left to me. You have to try and understand, sweetheart. I was desperate.’

Wordlessly, she held out her glass and watched Alan refill it. He still wore Pepe jeans, still moved with that same casual, confident grace. He had always exuded such an air of confidence; how could she possibly have known that beneath the surface lurked a maelstrom of insecurity and self-doubt?

The brandy was no longer lacerating her throat. This time it slipped down like warm honey.

‘You should have asked me,’ she said, tears prickling the back of her eyes. ‘If you’d told me how you felt, I could have—’

‘I didn’t want to hear it,’ Alan interjected, his own eyes filled with pain. ‘Don’t you see, Janey? If you’d reassured me, I would only have convinced myself you were lying. And that would have been almost as unbearable as hearing you say you didn’t love me.’

‘Oh God.’ With a trembling hand, Janey covered her face. What he was telling her made an awful kind of sense. Such paranoid beliefs, once they took a hold, made reassurance impossible.

‘You should have gone to see a doctor.’

‘I did. After I’d, um, left.’ Alan gave her a crooked half-smile. ‘And a world of good that did me, too. He said that, in his experience, any man who harboured suspicions about his wife most probably had every right to do so. Then he told me that his own wife had walked out on him three weeks earlier and it wasn’t until she’d gone that he found out she’d been having an affair with their dentist for the past five years.’

‘I wasn’t having an affair,’ said Janey, her voice beginning to break. ‘I would never have done anything like that. Never.’

‘Yes, well.’ He dismissed the protest with a shrug. ‘You can understand it didn’t help.’

Janey could understand that such a bloody useless doctor should be struck off the medical register. She shuddered at the thought of the damage he might have inflicted on countless innocent people.

‘Are you still cold?’ Alan patted the empty cushion on the settee. ‘Why don’t you come over here, sweetheart? Sit by me.’

But Janey needed to hear everything first. There were nearly two whole years separating them, two blank years in which anything might have happened. She couldn’t relax until she knew it all. She also needed more brandy .. .

‘Where did you go?’ she pleaded, suddenly desperate to get it over with. ‘Where have you been living? What have you been doing?’

His smile was bleak. ‘Existing. Trying to stop loving you.Telling myself a million times that I’d been a complete fool who’d made the worst mistake of his life, but that it was too late to go back.’ He stopped for a second, gazing into space and swallowing hard. ‘I’m sorry, Janey.

Here I go again, moaning on about my own stupid feelings when what you want to hear are the facts. OK, well they aren’t exactly riveting but here goes. I hitch-hiked to Edinburgh, did a bit of bar work, got myself a filthy little bed-sitter and spent most of my spare time shaking cockroaches out of the duvet. After a few months, when ‘I couldn’t stand the place a moment longer, I travelled down to Manchester. That was just as awful, but the customers had different accents and at least the pub employed bouncers to break up the fights, instead of expecting me to tackle them myself.’

Janey shuddered. ‘That scar on your forehead ...?’

‘A bloody great Scotsman with fourteen pints of lager inside him and a broken bottle in each fist.’ He touched the scar as if to remind himself. ‘I was lucky. One of the other barmen almost died.’

Janey bit her lower lip. Alan could have died. She had thought he was dead .. .

‘Go on. How long were you in Manchester?’

He thought for a moment. ‘Three, four months? Then I moved down to London. Another lousy bed-sit, another family of cockroaches to get to know. I did some casual work here and there when I could get it, but it was pretty much of a hand-to-mouth existence. Not to mention lonely.’

‘But you must have met people, made new friends?’

‘I didn’t want to,’ he replied simply. ‘I didn’t think I deserved any. Unless I was working, there were times when I didn’t even speak to a soul for days on end. London’s like that; you can almost begin to believe you no longer exist.’

‘Girlfriends?’ said Janey, needing to know. It had been almost two years, after all.

But Alan smiled and shook his head. ‘Hadn’t I suffered enough? Janey, my feelings for you were what got me into this mess in the first place. I was hardly going to risk it again, was I?

Besides,’ he added sadly, ‘I was still in love with you. I didn’t want anyone else. And even if I had, it would have been too much of a betrayal.’

‘And now you’re back.’ Janey still felt as if she were in suspended animation. It was a curious feeling, like one of those near-death experiences people reported, when they hovered on the ceiling and gazed down at their own lifeless bodies. She had no idea of the time, no conception of what she might say or do next. It was as if all this were happening to somebody else.

Alan nodded. Again, the hesitant half-smile. ‘I’m back.’

‘Why?’

He took a deep breath. ‘Please let me get it all out in one go. Wait until I’ve finished before you say anything. I haven’t been able to stop loving you, Janey. I tried, but it didn’t work. I’ve no idea how you feel about me, now. I don’t know, maybe you’ve put the past behind you, met someone else and forgotten you even knew me ... but I had to find out. I need to know if you do still care for me. And if you can ever forgive me. I have to know whether there’s a chance for us to carry on as we were before. As husband and wife.’

He looked so unsure of himself, so scared of what she might say. Only sheer desperation had given him the strength to admit his own weakness and declare his feelings for her with such heart-wrenching honesty. And he had always been the stronger partner in the past, thought janey, so seemingly secure and laid-back with his devil-may-care attitudes and freewheeling lifestyle.

But he hadn’t been secure at all, she realized; he had needed her, more than she had ever imagined. He hadn’t abandoned her for another woman, either. Nor had he ever stopped loving her. And now he needed understanding, love and forgiveness in return.

It’s like a dream come true, Janey realized hazily. Tears were beginning to roll down her cheeks and she thought how stupid, to cry now. This is the happiest night of my life.

‘Of course we can carry on,’ she said, rising unsteadily to her feet. The tears fell faster as Alan came towards her, his expression one of joy mingled with relief.

‘You don’t know how much this means to me,’ he murmured, his mouth grazing her wet cheek. ‘I wouldn’t have been able to bear it if you’d said no. The scariest part was not knowing whether you’d met someone else.’

Janey, breathing in the wonderful familiarity of him, closed her eyes. ‘There’s no one else,’

she whispered, stroking his hair and revelling in the sensation of his warm hands against her back. ‘There’s never been anybody else. Only you.’

Chapter 39

‘Oh good!’ said Maxine, when Cindy finally picked up the phone. ‘You’re there.’

‘It’s four o’clock in the morning,’ Cindy replied in arch tones. ‘Of course I’m here. The question is, where are you? More to the point, who is that man lying stark naked in the bed next to you?’

Maxine grinned. ‘That’s two questions.’

‘And that’s no answer,’ said Cindy briskly. ‘Besides, I haven’t finished yet. You were seen tiptoeing away from the party at midnight, sweetie, and that was four long hours ago. The thing is, what on earth could you possibly have been doing since then that’s kept you so busy you couldn’t call your oldest and dearest friend to let her know about it?’

‘Gosh.’ Maxine sounded deeply impressed. ‘You mean you were worried about me?’

‘Worried? Of course I wasn’t worried. I was jealous!’ Abandoning all self-control, Cindy screeched down the phone. ‘So stop buggering about and tell me who he is before I explode!’

‘OK, OK,’ sighed Maxine. ‘His name’s Jim Berenger and he’s an actor. We’re here at his flat in Belsize Park and I just rang to let you know that I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Well, this morning,’ she amended, glancing up at the clock. ‘If you’re good, I’ll give you all the girly gossip then.’

Cindy was still screaming, ‘Oh my God, is he spectacular in bed?’ when Bruno leaned across and seized the phone.

‘Hi,’ he said, lying hack against the pillows and daring Maxine to stop him. ‘Actually, my name is Bruno Parry-Brent; I’m a restaurateur and we’re in my hotel room at the Royal Lancaster. And yes, since you ask, I am most definitely spectacular in b—’

‘Stop it!’ hissed Maxine. Struggling to her knees, she wrenched the receiver back from him and slammed it down, cutting Cindy off in mid-shriek. ‘How could you do that?’

‘Relax darling.’ Effortlessly, Bruno fended her off. ‘We have nothing to hide. We’re going legit.’

‘I don’t want to go legit,’ Maxine howled. ‘This is a one-off, an aberration, a never-to-be-repeated—’

‘It’s been a two-off already,’ Bruno reminded her, his green eyes glittering with amusement as he surveyed her in all her naked glory. ‘Play your cards right and we can make it three.’

‘Bastard.’ She threw a pillow at his head.

‘And it isn’t an aberration, either. I thought it was rather nice.’

‘This is stupid, cried Maxine, wrapping a sheet around herself and debating whether to risk tipping the contents of the ice bucket over him. Somehow, she didn’t quite dare. The prospect of retaliation was too awful. ‘Cindy’s the biggest gossip in the world, she’s got a mouth like a megaphone ... and you think it’s funny!’

‘Not at all. I’m quite serious.’

‘So am I bloody serious.’ Maxine looked fierce. ‘I have a sister who will probably never speak to me again if she ever hears about this. Even more to the point,’ she added heavily, ‘you have Nina.’

Bruno said nothing for a while. No longer smiling, he studied Maxine’s face for several seconds, his own expression oddly intense. Then, reaching out, he traced the line of her cheek with a warm forefinger.

‘I told you I was serious,’ he said eventually. ‘This is it, Max. We were always meant to be together. I love you.’ He paused, then added, ‘I’m going to leave Nina.’

‘Go on,’ persisted Bruno, pinning Maxine down on the bed and expertly avoiding her flailing limbs. ‘Say it. You won’t get any breakfast until you do.’

The tray was outside the door, tantalizingly out of reach. Maxine, who was starving, made another hopeless bid for freedom before falling back, exhausted, against the pillows. She ached too much to put up a decent fight and it was all Bruno’s fault. He was the most insatiable man she had ever known.

‘Say what?’

‘Tell me that you love me.’ He enunciated the words slowly and clearly, as if addressing a dim child. Maxine’s brown eyes narrowed. ‘Why?’

‘Because I’ve said I love you, and it’s only fair. And if you don’t,’ he added with an air of triumph, ‘well, no breakfast. I shall just have to seduce you all over again.’

Desperate to eat, Maxine said in a small voice, ‘I love you.’

‘Louder.’

‘I love you.’

‘Come on, don’t be shy,’ Bruno persisted. ‘Much louder than that.’

She sighed. Then, at the top of her voice, screamed, ‘I LOVE YOU!’

‘Tell us something we don’t know,’ came the shouted reply from the room adjoining theirs.

‘You’ve been proving it all bloody night. Bloody honeymooners!’

Maxine burst out laughing.

‘Honeymooners,’ Bruno mused. ‘Now there’s an idea.’

‘I think you have to be married to come into that category.’ Still grinning, Maxine ruffled her hair and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Not bad, considering the excesses of the past nine hours. Thank goodness for smudge-proof mascara.

But Bruno was giving her an odd look. For the first time he no longer seemed entirely sure of himself, ‘That’s what I mean.’

‘Oh,’ she mocked. ‘So now you think we should get married?’

‘That’s exactly what I mean.’

Maxine’s eyebrows shot up. The next moment she started to laugh once more, so uncontrollably that the bed shook.

‘Don’t do that,’ Bruno retaliated crossly. Jesus, would she ever take anything he said at face value? ‘I’m serious.’

It was a while before she could manage to speak again. ‘Oh please! Bruno, you just aren’t the marrying kind.’

He looked offended. ‘Nobody is, until they meet the person they want to marry. Think about it, Max, you and me, together.’

‘How can I think about it?’ she gurgled. ‘It’s the most ridiculous idea I ever heard. Look at our track records; we were born to cheat! Can you imagine the chaos it would cause if we ever tried to stay faithful to each other?’

He watched her fling back the bedclothes, and make her way to the door. Naked, she briefly checked that the coast was clear before reaching for the breakfast tray.

‘But that’s just it,’ Bruno protested, meaning every word and willing her to take him seriously. ‘We’re the same, so we understand each other. God, you’re such a pig,’ he added, as Maxine tore into a croissant. Within seconds it was gone and she was starting on the toast, slathering it with butter and honey and sprinkling brown sugar on top before stuffing it greedily into her mouth.

‘There, you see?’ she countered between mouthfuls. ‘You’re going off me already.’

He watched her set to work on the second slice; she looked like a bricklayer on speed, and the butter was going on thicker than cement. It didn’t stop him loving her, but it was a miracle she wasn’t the size of a Sherman tank.

‘I’m a restaurateur,’ he reminded her. ‘I like to see people enjoying their food, not shovelling it down like porridge.’

‘I am enjoying it.’ With immense satisfaction, Maxine licked her fingers one by one. Then, with a determined smile she added, ‘And there’s another good reason why you can’t leave Nina.

You love that restaurant. Imagine how she’d react if you told her about us — she’d have you out of there like a shot.’ She fired an imaginary pistol into the air for emphasis. ‘Boom. And then what would you be? An ex-restaurateur.’

Bruno shrugged. It wasn’t a welcome forecast, but it was fairly accurate, given the circumstances. The restaurant belonged to Nina; giving her up would mean giving up his livelihood. Until now, such an action had been unthinkable.

It was a measure of his feelings towards Maxine that it no longer even seemed to matter.

‘Sacrifices have to be made,’ he said lightly. ‘I can always get another job. The lifestyle may take a bit of a dive, but ... well, I happen to think you’re worth it.’

‘Don’t.’ Maxine felt suddenly afraid. This was so unlike Bruno, so totally out of character for him. ‘In five minutes you could be telling me it’s all a joke.’

But when Bruno reached for her, the expression in his eyes was deadly serious. ‘No joke.

I’ve waited nearly twenty years for this. ‘I don’t even know if I like it, yet. I love you more than you love me, and that makes me the vulnerable one. This has never happened to me before.’

More moved than she dared admit, Maxine said briskly, ‘Evidently not. Rule number one is never tell people you love them more than they love you. It’s asking to get kicked in the teeth.’

‘I know.’ Bruno kissed her collarbone. ‘But it’s the only way I can think of to convince you I’m not bullshitting.’

A shudder of sheer longing snaked its way down her spine. ‘OK,’ she said simply. ‘I believe you. But it still isn’t going to be easy.’

‘And I’m going to be poor. Well,’ he amended with a forced smile, ‘relatively poor, anyway. Is that a major problem for you?’

To her absolute horror, Maxine realized she was in danger of bursting into tears. Staring hard at the tops of the trees outlined against a pale grey sky, which was all she could see from their third-floor window overlooking Hyde Park, she willed the lump in her throat to subside.

Nobody made her cry and got away with it. Least of all, she thought crossly, a bloody man.

But Bruno, misinterpreting her silence, was growing impatient. ‘Is it?’ he persisted. ‘Are you only interested in men with money? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?’

Maxine hit him with a pillow.

‘You bastard,’ she howled. ‘What do you think I am, some kind of bimbo gold-digger?

How dare you!’

‘Ouch.’ Bruno dodged out of reach as she lunged at him again. Overcome with relief, he broke into a grin. ‘Look, I wasn’t accusing, I was asking. And it’s a perfectly reasonable question, anyway. Lots of people are attracted to money. What about that ex-fiancé of yours?’ he added in ultra-reasonable tones. ‘Janey told me about him. He was loaded, and you can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it.’

Just for a second, Maxine experienced a pang of longing for those lost luxuries. Of course she had loved living in a splendid house, swanning around in smart cars, flashing a diamond ring the size of a beech nut at anyone who came within a two-mile radius, never having to worry about the next gas bill ... But it hadn’t been enough. And, having left that life behind her, she had never even for a moment regretted doing so.

‘Oh yes, it was nice,’ she said. ‘But I gave it all up, didn’t I? And I gave the engagement ring back to him, in case you were wondering. It cost nine thousand pounds but I still did it.’

‘Pity,’ murmured Bruno. ‘That’s one noble gesture you might live to regret.’

‘Yes, well.’ Maxine couldn’t help agreeing with him there, but a girl had to have some scruples. Brown eyes flashing, she said proudly, ‘At least it proves I’m not a fortune hunter.’

Unable to resist making the dig, he countered, ‘What about Guy Cassidy? Would you have lusted after him if he’d been penniless and unknown?’

‘Guy doesn’t count,’ Maxine declared flatly. ‘I wanted to work for him because he could have boosted my career. Not that it did the slightest bit of good,’ she grumbled. ‘Do you know, in all the time I’ve been there he hasn’t taken so much as a single photograph of me? I’m sure that’s out of spite.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Bruno gave her a hug. ‘I’ve got a Kodak Instamatic. I’ll take thousands of photos of you.’

‘You aren’t influential and famous.’

‘I’m not rich either.’

She smiled. ‘I don’t care. Really.’

‘So what’s the verdict?’ Bruno realized that he was holding his breath. There are only a few moments in a lifetime when real decisions have to be made. This was one of those moments. ‘Do we give it a whirl?’

Maxine, both exhilarated and afraid, said in a low voice, ‘It isn’t going to be easy, you know. Being poor is the least of our worries. We’re going to upset quite a few people. You have Nina to deal with. I have Janey.’

‘What are you,’ Bruno demanded, ‘a bloody politician? Answer the question, Max. Does that mean yes or no?’

‘You idiot.’ Fondly she caressed his tanned arm. ‘How can you even ask? You saw through me right from the start. You knew I loved you almost before I knew it myself.’

‘You’re going to have to say it,’ he persisted evenly. ‘Yes, Maxine? Or—’

‘Darling!’ she exclaimed, loving him even more for his insecurity and hurling herself into his arms. ‘Don’t panic! I am the original girl who can’t say no.’

Chapter 40

‘This is terrible,’ said Janey, looking at her watch and seeing that it was almost ten o’clock.

‘There are so many things we should be doing. We really ought to get up.’

‘What could be more important than this?’ Alan, who didn’t want to move, kissed the top of her head. ‘Making love, catching up on lost time, getting to know one another all over again ...’

‘Phoning the police,’ she continued dryly.

‘What?’

Janey smiled. ‘You’re on the missing persons’ register. One of us is going to have to let them know you’re no longer missing.’

‘Oh God.’ Alan shuddered. ‘You can do that. What do you suppose they’ll do ... come round and rap my knuckles for running away without leaving a note?’

‘I haven’t the faintest idea, but we still have to phone them.’ Janey, wriggling out of reach, slid out of bed and grabbed her dressing gown. ‘And Paula’s downstairs, running the shop on her own. She doesn’t even know I’m up here. If she starts hearing footsteps, she’ll think we’re burglars.’

‘Why?’ Alan’s eyes narrowed. ‘Where does she think you spend your nights? Come to that,’ he added with growing suspicion, ‘who were you with last night? That was a pretty smart car you leapt out of. Are you sure there isn’t something you aren’t telling me?’

Janey hadn’t given Guy Cassidy so much as a thought until now. Belatedly she realized that she must have caused him considerable inconvenience. He had been due to fly up to Manchester at seven for a photo session with the much sought-after, deeply temperamental supermodel, Valentina di Angelo. She prayed that in letting him down at such short notice he wouldn’t have had to cancel the entire shoot.

‘There’s nothing to tell,’ she said in reassuring tones, still mindful of the unfounded suspicions which had prompted Alan’s disappearance in the first place. ‘Maxine moved back down here a few months ago and took a nannying job up at Trezale House, but for the past week she’s been in London making a TV advert. I offered to look after the children whilst she was away, so I’ve been staying at the house and Paula’s taken over in the shop. Everyone’s been doing everyone else’s job,’ she added cheerfully. ‘It’s been fun.’

‘You always liked children.’ Alan’s expression grew bleak. ‘That was something else that scared me. I knew you wanted a family of your own, but I was afraid you’d love them more than you loved me.’

Janey stared at him, appalled. ‘It doesn’t work like that.’

‘Sometimes it does.’ A note of urgency crept into his voice. ‘Look, sweetheart. I’ve come back and we’re going to make it work this time, but I still wouldn’t be happy if you suddenly announced you were pregnant. So, no little accidents. No "Surprise, surprise, darling, I can’t think how it happened, but ..." announcements. Because that’s something I just couldn’t handle.

OK?’

‘No little accidents,’ Janey repeated numbly, stunned by the bombshell and by the suddenness with which it had been dropped. She would never have dreamed of intentionally becoming pregnant without Alan’s knowledge and approval, but neither would she ever have guessed the strength of his own feelings on the subject. He was evidently deadly serious.

Having got that bit of information off his chest, however, he cheered up and changed the subject.

‘So Maxine’s been working as a nanny, you say? Heaven help those poor kids! What mother in her right mind would employ someone like Maxine, anyway?’

Janey picked up her hairbrush and sat in front of the mirror. ‘It isn’t a mother, it’s a father.

A widower.’

‘Oh well.’ Alan stretched and yawned. ‘That explains it. Old or young?’

‘Thirtyish.’ Janey set about restoring some semblance of normality to her hair. ‘Coming up to thirty-five, I think.’

‘Really,’ he drawled, watching her reflection in the mirror. ‘And is he good-looking?’

Janey carried on brushing. ‘I suppose so. If you like that sort of thing,’ she added, her tone deliberately offhand.

‘And do you like that sort of thing?’

‘Stop it.’ As she swivelled round to face him, the dressing gown fell open to reveal her bare legs. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the brush. ‘Don’t try and read something into a perfectly innocent situation. ‘I was doing Maxine a favour, that’s all. I’m not interested in Guy and he certainly isn’t interested in me.’

‘Why not? Is he gay?’

‘Of course he isn’t gay.’ Janey replied wearily. ‘He has women coming out of his ears. And he isn’t interested in anyone unless they’re drop-dead gorgeous, OK? You’d have to have at least half a dozen covers of Vogue under your belt before Guy Cassidy would even notice you. Even Maxine didn’t qualify, which really pissed her off.’

‘Guy Cassidy the photographer? Is that who you’re talking about?’ Alan sat up and took notice. Evidently impressed, he said, ‘And he’s the one whose kids you’ve been looking after?’

Janey nodded. He was also the one she’d been hideously rude to last night. She would have to phone and apologize.

‘Oh well, that’s all right then.’ Alan grinned with relief. ‘And there I was, thinking I had a rival on my hands. ‘I see what you mean now about the gorgeous girls. He can have just about anyone he wants.’

And although it was undoubtedly true, Janey couldn’t help feeling a bit miffed. Having allayed Alan’s suspicions, she now had to bite her tongue in order not to blurt out: ‘Yes, but he held my hand last night, and he kissed me...’

But that would be childish and it had only been a jokey kiss anyway, not a real one. Instead, feeling very second- best, she said lightly, ‘Of course he can have anyone he wants. So he’s hardly likely to be interested in me, is he?’

‘Exactly.’ Nodding in vigorous agreement, Alan then leaned over and gave her bare knee a consoling pat. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, it isn’t very flattering, but you know what I mean. He’s had some of the best in the world, lucky sod. [ even heard he had a bit of a thing going with that dark-haired model, Serena Charlton. Christ,’ he added, rolling his eyes in deep appreciation, ‘if that isn’t drop-dead gorgeous, I don’t know what is.’

Maxine, guiltily in love and desperately confused, wasn’t looking forward to the next twenty-four hours.

‘I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up about,’ said Bruno, as their train drew into Trezale station. He had insisted they travel back together, and Maxine had grown more and more jittery by the mile. ‘It isn’t like you. Here, d’you want to finish this?’

She took the lukewarm gin and tonic from him, swallowed and pulled a face. ‘The whole thing isn’t like me. Look, I may have been involved with married men before, but they were just flings. Nobody’s ever done anything as drastic as leaving their wife on my behalf. And even if they’d wanted to, I wouldn’t have let them.’

The breathe-if-you-dare Alaia dress had gone back into Cindy’s walk-in wardrobe. Now, wearing her own jeans and a striped shirt knotted at the waist, she looked younger and infinitely more vulnerable.

‘Relax. Let me take care of Nina.’ Bruno grinned. ‘And how many times do I have to tell you, anyway? She isn’t my wife.’

Maxine gazed gloomily out of the window as the train creaked to a halt. ‘That doesn’t make me feel any less guilty. It’s still going to be horrible.’

‘Ah, but I’m worth it.’

She thought of Janey, whose fragile self-confidence was about to be shattered, and of Guy’s disdainful reaction to the news. Even people she only vaguely knew were going to disapprove, on principle. But she really did love Bruno, and he loved her. Besides, she no longer appeared to have any choice in the matter.

‘You’d better be worth it,’ she murmured, rising to her feet and mentally preparing herself for the fray. ‘For everyone’s sake, you’d better be.’

It was nine o’clock when she let herself into the house. Guy, of all people, was cooking in the kitchen. Highly diverted by the spectacle, Maxine watched him pile burnt oven chips and enormous fillet steaks on to three plates. Ella, cringing at the sight of blood, was wailing, ‘Ugh, I hate fillet steak. Why can’t we have proper food instead?’

‘I like fillet steak!’ announced Maxine, from the doorway. ‘Is there enough for me? And where’s Janey?’

Ella, sensing salvation, ran over and gave her a hug. ‘Hooray, you’re back. If you cook me some beefburgers you can have my steak. Janey went home after the fair last night. She called Daddy a bastard and jumped out of the car because she wanted to see her husband. Actually, I’d rather have fish fingers than beefburgers but not burnt like the chips. Daddy’s a terrible cook.

I’m really hungry,’ she added boastfully, ‘because I’ve been up in a helicopter to Manchester.’

Where convoluted storytelling was concerned, thought Maxine, Ella could give Ronnie Corbett a run for his money. Thoroughly confused, she turned to Guy. ‘I think I need a translator.

So what really happened last night?

You and Janey had an argument and she stormed off in a huff?’

Guy threw the frying pan into the sink, which was already overflowing with washing-up.

‘Her husband came back.’

‘What!’ Maxine gazed at him in disbelief. ‘You mean Alan? Are you sure?’

‘I already said that,’ Ella complained. Having rifled the freezer, she now shoved three icy fish fingers into Maxine’s unsuspecting hands. ‘Why didn’t you listen to me? Shall I tell you all about the helicopter while you cook my tea?’

‘He’s back,’ continued Guy evenly. ‘I don’t know any more than that. We were driving past the shop and he was waiting outside.’

Still stunned, Maxine said, ‘So what did you argue about?’

‘I told her to be careful, to find out why he’d turned up after all this time.’ He shrugged.

‘Maybe I wasn’t very subtle. It didn’t go down well.’

‘I still can’t believe it.’ Maxine sank into the nearest chair. ‘My God, that man has a nerve!

Poor Janey.’

‘Quite. I was going to phone her this evening, but I’m not exactly flavour of the month.’

Guy picked up an overdone chip, gazed at it for a second and put it down again. ‘Maybe you should do the honours. Make sure everything’s all right.’

‘How can it be all right?’ Maxine, who had never had much time for Alan Sinclair, looked gloomy. ‘He’s back, isn’t he? It’s bad news all round, if you ask me.’

But she found herself faced with a moral dilemma. As the news gradually sank in, it became more and more obvious that since Alan had returned, telling Janey about herself and Bruno was going to be an awful lot easier if Janey was happy. Telling Janey that in her opinion Alan was a no-good, selfish sonofabitch who deserved a boot up the bum, on the other hand, wasn’t going to make her very happy at all.

‘Haven’t you phoned her yet?’ Guy, coming into the kitchen at ten-thirty, found her half-heartedly tackling the mountain of washing-up.

‘I tried,’ fibbed Maxine, who had been putting it off as long as she could. ‘No answer. She must be out.’

‘Out of her mind.’ Guy picked up a Day-Glo pink fluffy rabbit – one of Ella’s trophies from last night’s trip to the fair – and placed it on the dresser next to a cross-eyed furry pig. ‘My God, hasn’t he done enough damage already?’

‘All this concern,’ she said in lightly mocking tones, ‘when you don’t even know him.’

‘I’ve heard enough. And you aren’t exactly his greatest fan yourself.’ He gave her a sharp look. ‘You were the one who told me what a bastard he was in the first place.’

‘I know, but I’ve been thinking.’ Maxine concentrated on the washing-up, scrubbing furiously at Josh’s cornflake-encrusted breakfast bowl. ‘You know how stubborn Janey can be. If you ask me, the more critical we are of Alan, the more likely she is to dig her heels in and take his side. I really think the best thing we can do is pretend to be pleased he’s back. That way, she canmake up her own mind, in her own time, without sacrificing her pride.’

Guy nodded in grudging agreement. ‘Maybe you’re right.’

‘Of course I’m right.’ That had gone well. Maxine, pleased with herself, said, ‘I always am.’

‘And it makes things so much easier for you,’ he continued smoothly. ‘What a happy coincidence.’

Damn. She raised her eyebrows. ‘A happy coincidence? Sorry, I’m not with you.’

‘I know you aren’t,’ said Guy. ‘You’re with Bruno Parry-Brent.’

‘Oh.’ Maxine gave up. So he had recognized Bruno’s car when he’d dropped her off earlier, after all.

No more deceit, Bruno had told her. No need for denials. We’re going public. Well, here goes. She raised her chin in defiance. ‘Yes, I’m with Bruno. I wasn’t before, when you thought I was. But I am now.’

‘Dear God.’

‘Is that a problem?’

Guy looked amused. ‘I expect so, but at least it isn’t mine. One thing I will say, about you and Janey.’

‘What?’ Maxine bristled, aware of the fact that it wasn’t going to be flattering.

He grinned. ‘You really do have the most extraordinary taste in men.’

Chapter 41

In the event, Janey rang the house first.

‘Oh, hi. It’s me,’ she said hesitantly when Guy picked up the phone. ‘Look, I know it’s late but I wanted to apologise for last night. I said some horrible things and I’m really sorry.’

‘No problem.’ Guy couldn’t help smiling to himself because Janey’s idea of horrible things was on a par with Maxine’s scathing off-the-cuff one-liners. ‘Believe me, I’ve been called worse.’

‘And I let you down,’ she continued, clearly racked with guilt. ‘I know how important the Manchester trip was, and I feel terrible about it. Were you able to find a babysitter?’

‘No.’

‘Oh God, I’m sorry.’

‘But it didn’t matter. The kids came up with me. So if you ever want to be bored rigid for thirty minutes by a seven-year-old describing what it’s like to fly in a helicopter,’ he added wryly, ‘just ask Ella.’

‘Really?’ Immeasurably relieved, Janey started to laugh. ‘I didn’t ruin the whole day, then.’

‘Well, the pilot may take a while to recover, but all in all it was a peat success.’ Guy paused, then said casually, ‘And am I allowed to ask how you are? Is everything .. . sorted out?’

‘Everything is completely sorted out.’ Her voice grew guarded, as if in anticipation of more Are you sure you know what you’re doing? remarks. With some awkwardness, she went on,

‘Look, it’s a bit complicated and I can’t really explain over the phone, but I understand now why he did what he did. Now he’s back and we’re giving it another go. Starting afresh. And I know what you’re probably thinking, but it’s my life, he’s my husband, and no, he didn’t run off with another woman ...’

‘Sshh,’ said Guy, as her voice rose. ‘Calm down. You don’t have to justify yourself to me.

I’m not going to criticise your decision, Janey. I’m hardly in a position to, considering the lousy mistakes I’ve made over the past few years. Besides,’ he added, choosing his words with care, ‘it was what you wanted, wasn’t it? And now you’ve got it; a second chance of happiness. For heaven’s sake, it’s what anyone would want.’

‘I know.’ Relief was tinged with caution, as if she still couldn’t quite believe he wasn’t going to put the boot in. ‘And I am happy. Look, I have to go now, Alan’s coming downstairs.

Could you ask Maxine to phone me tomorrow as soon as she gets back from London?’

At that moment Maxine came into the sitting room carrying two cups of tea and a packet of Jaffa cakes.

‘Well actually—’ said Guy, but Janey wasn’t listening.

‘And give my love to Josh and Ella,’ she continued hurriedly. ‘Tell them I’ll see them soon.

I really must go ...bye.’

‘She wants you to phone her tomorrow,’ Guy told Maxine, when he had replaced the receiver. ‘She thinks you’re still in London. She was in a hurry to hang up.’

‘And?’ Maxine demanded, avid for details. ‘What did she say?’

‘Not a lot. Just that she understands why he left, and that they’re making another go of it.’

He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Oh yes, and she’s happy.’

Considering the almost total lack of interest he’d shown in her own love life, thought Maxine, he was displaying an astonishing amount of concern for Janey’s. It really seemed to have got to him. But that, she supposed, was because he knew she was capable of looking after herself. Janey, far less experienced where men were concerned, was a sitting target for unscrupulous males like Alan Sinclair. Why, she had even been hopelessly out of her depth with Bruno, and he was a pussy cat .. .

‘I wonder what his excuse was,’ she mused, offering Guy a Jaffa cake. ‘It must have been spectacular. My God, when you think of the hard time some married men have if they just nip into the pub for a quick drink after work. They get home two hours late and their wives give them merry hell. Yet Alan gets home two years late and Janey’s thrilled to bits.’

It was certainly ironic. Guy, who had also been giving the matter some thought, said, ‘She almost expects to be treated badly. I suppose you get used to it, if all the men you’ve ever known are bastards.’

‘You’ve said it.’ Maxine grinned. ‘And then to top it all, she had to spend a week living here with you. Talk about the final straw.’

‘I haven’t treated her badly.’ He looked offended. ‘I was perfectly nice.’

‘You!’ Maxine choked on a mouthful of Jaffa cake. ‘You’re never nice!’

‘I am when I want to be. It all depends on the company

‘I keep.’

‘You’re never nice to me.’

‘Exactly.’ Guy was staring into his cup. ‘And is it any wonder? This is the most disgusting tea I’ve ever drunk in my life.’

Maxine tried hers. ‘Oh bum,’ she said crossly. ‘The sugar isn’t sugar. It’s salt.’

‘I never thought I’d hear myself say this.’ He shook his head in mock despair. ‘But I’m actually beginning to feel sorry for Bruno Parry-Brent. Does the poor sod have any idea what he’s taking on?’

For Bruno, it was a first. Total honesty, not something which had ever featured particularly heavily on his personal agenda before, was what was called for now.

But if it was harder than he’d imagined, it was also necessary. Maxine had turned his entire world upside down. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. For as long as he could remember, he had been a committed philanderer. Infidelity had come as naturally to him as breathing. But that was in the past. His mad, bad days were behind him. The only person he wanted from now on was Maxine.

It was two o’clock in the morning and Nina was sitting at the kitchen table drinking camomile tea. Her long white fingers, wrapped around the cup, appeared almost luminous in the muted glow of the shaded wall lamps. Her face, bare of make-up, seemed paler still, but her voice remained calm.

‘So it was Janey Sinclair’s sister all the time.’ She nodded thoughtfully. ‘How interesting.

Janey talked to me about you, you know. I thought she was the one you were involved with.’

‘Not my type,’ said Bruno, because total honesty was all very well but some things were undoubtedly better left unsaid. He wasn’t concerned about his own reputation, but at least he could protect Janey’s.

‘And Maxine is?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re absolutely sure?’

He nodded. ‘Absolutely.’

‘Oh well.’ Nina shrugged and recrossed her legs. ‘It was bound to happen sooner or later. If I’m honest, I didn’t expect us to last this long.’

She was taking it well, thought Bruno with gratitude. But then nothing ever fazed Nina. It was what he’d always liked about her. ‘I didn’t expect it to happen like this,’ he admitted with a rueful smile. ‘And to me, of all people.’

‘Where will you live?’

‘I’m going to see Don Hickman tomorrow. Now the summer season’s over he should be able to find me a cheap holiday cottage. I suppose I’ll have to start looking out for another job, too.’ He paused, then added, ‘Unless you want me to carry on here ...?’

‘No.’ Nina shook her head. ‘Better not. I think we need a clean break.’

‘Right.’ Bruno gave her a concerned look. ‘Are you sure you’ll be OK?’

She smiled. ‘Of course I will. We had a good partnership, and now it’s over. It’s hardly the end of the world.’

Leaning across the table, he kissed her pale forehead. ‘Thank you. For making it easy.’

‘My pleasure.’ Nina returned the kiss, stroking his streaky-blond hair for a moment before rising to her feet and placing her empty teacup in the sink. ‘But it isn’t going to be quite so easy for you, financially. Does Maxine have plenty of money?’

‘No.’

‘Oh dear,’ she said with affectionate amusement. ‘In that case, it really must be love.’

Bruno, fast asleep in the spare room, lay spread-eagled across the bed with one foot dangling over the side. With tears streaming silently down her cheeks, Nina stood in the doorway and watched the man she had loved for the past ten years dream of the girl he loved.

Sadly, that girl wasn’t herself. But she had done absolutely the right thing, Nina reassured herself. Breaking down and begging him to stay – maybe even attempting to bribe him with yet more money – would only have earned his contempt. Instead she had been cool, calm and understanding, and it was much the best way because now they could part as friends. More importantly, it kept the door open. Bruno would know he could always return.

You’re leaving me now because you’re besotted with someone called Maxine Vaughan, thought Nina, who is undoubtedly beautiful and who makes you laugh. She’s probably brilliant in bed, too. But she can’t possibly love you as much as I do, and that’s why I’m letting you go.

Because it doesn’t matter how long it takes. I’m prepared to wait for you to come back.

Chapter 42

‘Oh Janey, I’m so happy for you!’ Maxine enveloped her sister in a bear hug and swung her round in the narrow hallway, trampling all ever the Sunday papers which had only just been pushed through the letterbox. ‘Look, I’ve brought champagne to celebrate. Where’s Alan, still in bed? Tell him to get up this minute and come and give his long-lost sister-in-law an enormous kiss!’

Janey, abandoning the mangled newspapers, followed her up the stairs. ‘You’ve missed him. He’s gone to the surfing club. He’ll be back at around midday.’

Inwardly relieved, Maxine squeezed Janey’s hand. ‘Oh well, never mind. There’ll be plenty of time for that later. Maybe it’s nicer this way; we can have a proper talk without interruptions, and drink all the champagne ourselves. Come along, grab a jacket and a couple of glasses; it’s time to hit the beach.’

It was cold but sunny, and the tide was on its way out. Down at the water’s edge, Janey held up the glasses while Maxine eased the cork from the bottle, aiming it into the glittering turquoise sea.

‘To you and Alan,’ she said with a grin when their glasses had been filled as they walked along. ‘May you live happily ever after. Cheers!’

‘Cheers,’ Janey responded with a dutiful smile. She was pleased Maxine was pleased, but it had also come as something of a surprise. Having anticipated suspicion, criticism and a million questions laced with Maxine’s own particular brand of sarcasm, she was still very much on her guard. Champagne on the beach and wholehearted approval weren’t what she’d been expecting at all.

‘This is from Guy, by the way.’ Maxine waved the bottle. ‘He sends his best wishes. Oh, and something else.’ Rummaging in the inner pocket of her ancient leather flying jacket, she produced a crumpled cheque. Your wages for last week.’

Janey was almost embarrassed to take the cheque. It seemed odd, accepting payment for something which hadn’t even seemed like work. But since refusing the money would appear even odder, she stuffed it into the back pocket of her jeans. ‘Thanks, I enjoyed it.’

‘So did they.’ Maxine rolled her eyes in mock reproach. ‘Although I’m beginning to seriously regret sending you there. Josh and Ella actually expect me to bake cakes now! And I mean real cakes,’ she added darkly, ‘with flour and stuff. Not even the kind you make from a packet.’

Both intrigued and amused, Janey waited to see how long Maxine could hold out. She was clearly making a heroic effort not to get down to the nitty-gritty and ask all the questions she would normally have blurted out within milliseconds. Janey, guessing that Guy must have had a stern word with her on the subject, made a silent bet with herself that Maxine would crumble somewhere between the smugglers’ cave and the rock pools.

The smugglers’ cave was still two hundred yards ahead of them, however, when Maxine, in the middle of prattling on about the hideous little brat with whom she’d costarred in the toilet-roll commercial, suddenly stopped dead and ripped off her sunglasses.

‘OK, that’s enough,’ she declared, fixing her dark eyes on Janey and daring her to move.

‘You’ve had your fun but this is downright cruel. It’s all very well for Guy bloody Cassidy to warn me against giving you the third degree but ‘I am your sister, after all. So stop pretending to be interested in my glittering career and tell me everything, before I explode!’

Janey glanced at her watch. Nine whole minutes; whoever would have thought Maxine would be capable of restraining herself for that length of time?

‘Everything you need to know?’ she said innocently. ‘Right. Well, first of all you sieve the flour into a bowl. Don’t forget to add a pinch of salt. Then you--’

‘Stop it!’ Maxine shrieked, picking up a dripping, slippery mass of seaweed and advancing towards her. ‘Tell me about Alan. Tell me why he left ... why he came back ... what he’s been doing ... what you’re going to do.’

The trouble was, by the time Janey had finished telling her, Maxine was no longer so sure she wanted to know.

What she found almost impossible to understand was the fact that Janey actually seemed to believe the incredible line her bastard of a husband had been stringing her. As far as Maxine was concerned, she’d never heard such a heap of total and utter bullshit in her entire life.

‘... So that’s it,’ Janey concluded, reaching for the Bollinger and tipping the last of it into their empty glasses. With a sidelong glance in Maxine’s direction, she said with a trace of defiance, ‘Go on then, your turn. You must have an opinion.’

Mere words couldn’t even begin to convey her opinion of Alan Sinclair, thought Maxine, almost beside herself with silent rage. But she also realized she’d been right about Janey, who clearly wouldn’t tolerate even the mildest of criticisms. One wrong word and she would leap to Alan’s defence. Any suggestion that he might have been less than honest and it would be champagne corks at thirty paces.

But she was an actress, thank goodness, and she could out-act even her unspeakable brother-in-law any day of the week. For the sake of her pride, Janey was going to have to make the discovery of just how unspeakable he really was, in her own time.

For the past week, Maxine’s dramatic talent had been stretched to the limit, pronouncing -

in entirely convincing tones - ‘When you have Babysoft in your bathroom, you know you have the best.’ Now, perched on a cold rock at the far end of Trezale beach, she stretched it that little bit further and said simply, ‘Oh Janey, what on earth were you expecting me to say? You’re happy, and that’s good enough for me. I’m glad he’s back.’

They were making their way back along the shoreline when Janey unwittingly asked the question Maxine had been gearing herself up for.

‘So what else happened in London? You must have gone to a few parties; did you meet any nice men?’

Janey was carrying the glasses. Maxine, who had stuffed the empty Bollinger bottle inside her jacket, was skimming pebbles across the water. She watched the last pebble collide with a wave and disappear from view. A gust of wind blew her hair into her eyes and she used the extra seconds it gave her to compose herself.

‘I went to a party,’ she said finally, ‘and met a nice man.’

‘And now it’s my turn to be kept in suspense?’ Janey protested. ‘Come along now, don’t be shy! Give me the gory details.’

‘I’ve known him for a while.’ Maxine took a deep breath and wished she could have persuaded Guy to part with two bottles of champagne. A little extra Dutch courage would have come in useful. ‘But until the party I didn’t even know I liked him. You know him too; quite well, in fact. And I don’t think you’re going to like it much when I tell you who it is.’

Janey thought hard for a moment. With a perplexed shrug she said, ‘Well, you’ve got me.

But if it’s an actor ...’ Her eyes widened in mock amazement and she clapped her free hand to her chest. ‘You don’t mean ... Mel—’

‘Look, he loves me and I love him,’ said Maxine rapidly. ‘It’s serious stuff. I know you hate him, but you have to believe me ... for the first time in my life I really do feel—’

‘Mel Gibson?’ shrieked Janey, and several seagulls beat a panicky retreat.

‘Bruno.’ Maxine’s shoulders stiffened in an unconscious gesture of defiance. There, she’d said it. Now all she had to do was pray Janey didn’t burst into tears.

But Janey was starting to laugh. ‘Is this a joke? Max, that’s not fair. Come on now, I told you everything!’

‘And now I’m telling you. It really isn’t a joke.’ The words spilled out fast, jerkily. Maxine took another steadying breath. ‘He turned up at the party on Friday night and practically kidnapped me. Except I wanted to be kidnapped,’ she amended, a shiver running down her spine even as she recalled the sheer romance of it all. ‘He wants to marry me. He’s leaving Nina. Oh Janey, it was as much of a shock to me as it is for you, but it just happened! I can’t even begin to describe how I feel ...’

‘Well,’ said Janey as the gulls continued to wheel frantically overhead. ‘I’m stunned.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’re sorry I’m stunned, or sorry it’s Bruno?’

‘You know what I mean.’ Maxine bit her lower lip. ‘I’ve been dreading telling you. Do you absolutely hate me?’

‘I don’t hate you. I can’t believe you’re being so incredibly stupid,’ sighed Janey, ‘but of course I don’t hate you. Max, the last time I came for a walk along this beach, somebody gave me the most almighty lecture. I can’t remember it word for word, but it had something to do with keeping well away from Bruno Parry-Brent because he was an unprincipled, sex-crazed, triple-timing shit-gigolo-bastard who would bring me nothing but everlasting grief.’ Pausing, she tilted her head to one side. ‘Now does that ring any bells with you, or do you have a twin sister I don’t know about?’

‘Oh hell,’ said Maxine uncomfortably. She braced herself once more. ‘Look, I know I said all those things but that’s the whole point; he would only have made you miserable. You’re a nice person and you expect everyone else to be nice, too. You’re trusting, unselfish, honest; as far as people like Bruno are concerned, it’s practically an open invitation to behave badly. They can’t resist it. And I know,’ she added with passion in her voice, ‘because I’m like Bruno too. I don’t trust men, I’m a selfish bitch and I lie like the clappers. Don’t you see, Janey? Bruno and I were made for each other! We’re a perfectly matched pair.’

Janey frowned. ‘I thought you loathed him.’

‘I did.’ Maxine gave her an apologetic look. ‘Well, I thought I did. But what I really loathed was the fact that ‘I knew he’d end up hurting you. You see, it was like watching a re-run of me and Maurice. You know what I’m like, Janey. I simply can’t handle nice, dependable men. The better they treat me, the worse I behave. If a man’s going to keep me on my toes, keep me interested, he needs to be a bastard, someone I can fight with. I don’t mean getting beaten up,’

she added hastily, as Janey’s eyebrows rose. ‘I’m not into black eyes and teeth flying in all directions. ‘I just need someone I don’t trust enough to take for granted.’

Maxine was rattling on at a furious pace, putting across every argument she could think of.

Strangely, thought Janey, it rang true. It might be weird, but it made sense.

‘I know it’s masochistic,’ Maxine went on. ‘I’m a hopeless case. But if it’s easy, there’s no buzz. And I need that buzz ...’

Uncomfortably aware that she was once again echoing Maxine’s own words to her, Janey said, ‘There’s still Nina.

You say Bruno’s going to leave her. What makes you think he will?’

‘I don’t have to think.’ The gulls were still wheeling noisily overhead. Maxine suppressed an urge to hurl the champagne bottle at them. Meeting Janey’s concerned gaze, she recalled Bruno’s phone call earlier this morning. ‘I know,’ she said simply. ‘He already has.’

They had finished retracing their steps. Janey’s white beach shoes were awash with sand.

By the time they’d made their way back up the high street, it was almost midday.

‘Alan will be home any minute now,’ she said, fishing in her pocket for the front-door key.

‘If you’d like to stay for lunch, you’re very welcome. Or is Guy expecting you back?’

‘Special dispensation,’ Maxine replied with an unnecessary glance at her watch. She had already arranged to meet Bruno at the Dune Bar at twelve-thirty. Somehow a cosy foursome didn’t seem appropriate. ‘Guy’s given me the afternoon off; he’s taking the kids over to Mimi Margason’s house for lunch. She’s the woman whose party you went to, isn’t she? I’ve never met her, but she sounds wild.’

‘She is.’ Janey wondered if she would ever see Mimi again. She had the uncomfortable feeling that bridges were being burnt. Unless they came into the shop, she might never even see Guy and the children again, either. ‘She’s outrageous. And very, very nice.’

‘Ah well, in that case I probably wouldn’t like her,’ Maxine replied. ‘As I said, nice people make me nervous. Apart from you,’ she added cheerfully. ‘Sisters don’t count.’

‘So will you stay for lunch?’

‘I can’t.’ By this time they had reached the shop. Taking a step forward, Maxine kissed Janey’s cold cheek. ‘I’m seeing Bruno. It’s a bit of an awkward situation, isn’t it?’

‘It’s certainly unusual.’ Janey smiled. ‘I dare say we’ll get used to it.’

‘We’re both happy,’ said Maxine, wishing she didn’t feel so guilty. ‘We’ve both got the men we really and truly want. There’s only one thing left to do now, to round it off.’

‘What’s that?’

Maxine grinned. ‘Find some poor long-suffering female for Guy.’

Chapter 43

Bruno evidently didn’t believe in wasting time. Maxine, only a few minutes late, arrived at the Dune Bar to find him deep in conversation with an extremely pretty brunette, pouring her a glass of Chardonnay with one hand and jangling two sets of keys in the other.

‘And about time too,’ he complained when Maxine joined them. ‘I don’t think you know Pearl, do you? I’ve just been telling her how madly in love with you I am, and how you’ve changed my life for ever. Think what an idiot I’d have looked if you hadn’t turned up.’

‘He’s definitely a changed man,’ Pearl declared, eyeing Maxine with undisguised curiosity.

‘I only came over to invite him to a party tomorrow night and he hasn’t stopped talking about you for the last twenty minutes. He won’t even come to the party.’

Bruno, eyes glittering with amusement, slid his arm around Maxine’s waist. ‘I’d only get chatted up by women with designs on my body,’ he complained. ‘There’s only one woman in my life from now on. Who needs parties, when we have each other?’

‘Boring old fart,’ said Maxine, helping herself to wine. ‘I like parties. If I was invited to one, I’d go.’

‘You can both come.’ Pearl scribbled the address on the back of a beer mat. Grinning at Maxine, who evidently met with her approval, she said, ‘It’ll be fun.’

Bruno had picked up the beer mat. Maxine promptly whisked it from his grasp.

‘I’ll definitely be there, but Bruno might not,’ she said smoothly. ‘He doesn’t need parties any more, you see. He’d only get chatted up by women with designs on his body.’

‘Thanks,’ said Bruno, when Pearl had left.

‘What’s the problem?’ Maxine demanded. ‘Afraid you won’t be able to resist a bit of temptation?’

‘Look, we both know you aren’t going to any party tomorrow night. Guy’s away and you’re looking after the kids. I only said no because I didn’t think you’d want me to go on my own,’ he said with a trace of exasperation. ‘I thought you wouldn’t trust me.’

‘So what are we supposed to do?’ Maxine countered. ‘Trot along to the nearest hospital and ask to be surgically joined at the hip? Sweetheart, we’re just going to have to learn to trust each other. I’m not going to try and stop you doing anything you want to do and you’re certainly not going to stop me. You can chat up Michelle Pfeiffer if you like. All you have to remember is that if I ever find out you’ve been unfaithful to me, it’s over.’ With her index finger, she drew a swift, clean line across his throat. ‘Finito. Kaput. Down the pan.’

Bruno kissed her. ‘I love you.’

‘Hmm.’ People were staring, but Maxine didn’t care. ‘Just as well. We’re going to be gossiped about from here to Land’s End.’

He picked up one of the sets of keys and dangled them in front of her. ‘In that case, let’s really give them something to gossip about. Here, take them. Don showed me round a few properties this morning. I’m now the proud tenant of Mole Cottage.’

‘You don’t waste much time,’ said Maxine admiringly. ‘Is it nice?’

‘Nice?’ Bruno launched into brochure-speak. ‘Mole Cottage is an eminently desirable seventeenth-century residence complete with stunning sea view, two charming bedrooms, spacious shower and delightful beamed ceilings throughout. The living room’s actually smaller than the shower cubicle, the wallpaper is unspeakable and the garden’s buried beneath six feet of weeds,’ he added with a rueful shrug, ‘but if we can ignore the décor we’ll survive. At least it was dirt cheap.’

Maxine took the keys. ‘I suppose these are the modern-day equivalent of a diamond ring.’

‘You’ve done the diamond-ring bit before. You can’t keep getting engaged; it’s tacky.’

Bruno grinned. ‘Besides, I’m nouveau pauvre. As from today, a key-ring’s about as much as I can afford.’

It was Maxine’s turn to kiss him. ‘I don’t care. When are you going to move in?’

‘As soon as you finish your drink. My suitcases are in the car.’

She experienced another spasm of guilt. ‘How was Nina?’

‘Fine.’ Bruno drained his glass. ‘Absolutely fine. She even helped me pack.’

Frowning slightly, Maxine twisted the stem of her glass between her fingers. ‘Wasn’t she even a little bit upset?’

‘No.’ He had privately come to the conclusion that Nina felt he was in the grip of a wild passion which would be out of his system by Christmas. It wouldn’t, of course, but it had certainly made leaving a whole lot easier. ‘She takes things in her stride. There’s only one major drawback to my leaving, as far as Nina’s concerned.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘Bruno’s Restaurant.’ He pulled a face. ‘She spoke to the new chef this morning and he says if he’s going to take full charge, it should be named after him.’

Maxine, who had only briefly glimpsed the thin, carroty-haired individual with the bobbing Adam’s apple and alarmingly pointed ears, said, ‘I can’t remember what he’s called.’

Bruno broke into a grin. ‘Wayne.’

‘I’m late, I’m sorry.’ Alan, bursting through the door at ten past one, gave Janey an enormous, conciliatory hug. ‘I lost all track of time. All the old crowd were there; you can’t imagine how much catching up we had to do.’

And you can’t imagine how terribly afraid I’ve been, thought Janey, willing herself to stay calm. Punctuality had never been one of Alan’s strong points, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t suffered agonies of uncertainty as each minute had ticked by. She wondered if she would ever truly he able to relax and overcome the fear that each time he left the house she might never see him again.

But that was something she was just going to have to come to terms with, she told herself firmly. Shrieking like a fishwife wouldn’t solve anything, and whingeing on about how worried she’d been would only burden him with guilt.

‘Don’t worry, I expected you to be late.’ With a casual gesture, she wiped her damp palms on her jeans. ‘They’re your friends; you must have had lots to talk about.’

‘It was still thoughtless of me.’ He stroked her blond, just-washed hair. ‘But you really don’t have to worry, sweetheart. I’m not going to disappear into thin air again. This time I’m here for good.’

She smiled. ‘Good.’

‘And to make up for being late home, I’m cooking lunch.’ He began to roll up the sleeves of his denim shirt in businesslike fashion. ‘You can put your feet up and relax. I’ll do everything myself.’

Janey started to laugh, because the smell of lamb roasting in the oven permeated the entire flat. ‘It’s all done,’ she said, recalling how often in the past they had gone through this routine.

True to form, Alan looked appalled. ‘All of it? Roast potatoes, onion sauce, all the vegetables?’

She nodded, brown eyes sparkling. ‘Afraid so.’

‘Oh well, in that case ...’ Alan took her hand and pulled her gently in the direction of the bedroom ‘.. . maybe we should both put our feet up.’

Janey raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘And relax?’

‘Hmm.’ Sliding his arm around her waist beneath the fleecy lilac sweatshirt she wore, he edged towards the zip on her jeans. ‘Maybe we’ll leave the relaxing until later ...’

‘Oh shit.’ With a groan, Janey ducked away from the window. ‘I don’t believe it. Oh hell!’

‘Who is it?’ Alan demanded irritably, as she wriggled across the bed and made a grab for her yellow-and-white towelling robe. Whoever it was, they certainly had a lethal sense of timing.

‘Quick, get some clothes on,’ hissed Janey. ‘It’s my mother.’

Thea Vaughan was proud of the way she had brought up her children, teaching them to be independent from an early age, allowing them to make their own decisions and never saying ‘I told you so’ when those decisions turned out to be mistakes. But enough was enough. This time, Janey had gone too far. And no mother, she felt, could be expected to sit back and watch her daughter make a mistake quite as monumental as the one Janey was making now.

‘Mum.’ Flushed and dishevelled, Janey opened the front door. ‘What a surprise! You usually phone.’

‘What a coincidence,’ mimicked Thea briskly. ‘So do you. When you have something to tell me, that is,’ she added in meaningful tones. ‘Some small item of news you think I might be interested in hearing.’

Janey had known it wouldn’t be easy. Thea was clearly on the warpath, outraged at having been left out and determined to make a monumental drama out of the event. It was precisely why she hadn’t made more than a token effort to contact her mother in the first place.

‘I did try to phone you,’ she insisted. ‘Yesterday. There was no reply.’

‘Stuff and nonsense,’ retorted Thea, her crimson cape billowing out as she stomped up the stairs. ‘I was out of the house for less than fifteen minutes. No doubt you were too busy to try again,’ she continued scathingly. ‘Which is why I have to hear the news from that nosey baggage Elsie Ellis, who from the sound of it has spent the last couple of days with her ears pinned against your adjoining wall. I dare say she’s also been broadcasting the news of your husband’s return to everyone who has set foot inside that bakery of hers. Personally, I’m amazed she hasn’t stood on the steps of the bloody town hall with a megaphone.’

‘Look, I’m sorry.’ Janey’s heart was pounding uncomfortably against her ribs. This was even worse than the time Maxine and the cricketers had turned up out of the blue, catching her with Bruno. ‘But I don’t understand why you’re so angry that Alan’s back. Aren’t you at least happy for me?’

‘My God, you are naïve.’ It came out as a snort of derision. ‘And I thought I was stupid, marrying your father! At least I had the guts to get out of the marriage before he ruined my entire life.’

‘It isn’t the same thing.’ Outraged by the accusation, Janey’s voice rose. ‘That was completely different! You told us yourself he had non-stop affairs. Alan didn’t do that. My father made you miserable for years; you can’t possibly compare your marriage with mine. It’s all very well for you to come storming round here with your mind already made up, but you don’t even know why he left.’

She cringed as Thea reached the top of the stairs and flung open the door to the flat. If Alan had decided to hide in the bedroom, her mother’s scorn would know no bounds.

But he was there, pouring Chablis into glasses and -thank heavens - standing his ground.

‘Don’t be angry with Thea,’ he said calmly, evidently having overheard the furious exchange on the stairs. ‘She has your best interests at heart. I’ve turned off the oven, by the way.

Why don’t we sit down and discuss this whole thing in a rational manner?’

It was what Alan was best at. Janey, drinking far too much wine far too quickly, said nothing and allowed him to get on with it.

Thea, however, remained stonily unimpressed. ‘Such a touching tale,’ she remarked, her expression sardonic, the light of battle in her brown eyes. ‘Forgive me if I don’t break down in tears, but I’m less of a soft touch than my daughter.’

Alan shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, I know how you must feel. But it happens to be the truth.’

‘Balls,’ said Thea.

Janey winced. ‘Mum!’

‘Oh grow up!’ her mother snapped. ‘I’ve never heard such codswallop in all my life. If he’d had the guts to say he ran off with another woman I could almost forgive him, but this ... this complete and utter claptrap is just despicable. Janey, he’s making a fool of you and I’m not going to let it carry on.’

‘I can’t help what you think,’ said Alan, reaching for Janey’s hand and squeezing it. With a sorrowful shake of his head, he met Thea’s withering gaze. ‘And there’s no way in the world I can ever prove it, but there was no other woman. That’s the absolute truth, and Janey believes me. Maybe in time you’ll come to believe it too. I certainly hope you will, for Janey’s sake if not for mine, but—’

‘But nothing!’ declared Thea with venom. ‘Do I look as if I have a mental age of six?

You’re a liar and a cheat, and you all but wrecked my daughter’s life. If you think I’m going to stand by and let you do it again, my lad, you most certainly have another think coming.’

‘Right, that’s enough,’ Janey shouted. Red-faced, she leapt to her feet, narrowly avoiding the coffee table, and wrenched open the living-room door. ‘You’re treating me like a six-year-old, and it isn’t even any of your damn business. Alan’s my husband and you’re just jealous because he came back and yours didn’t. What’s the matter, don’t you want me to be happy?’

‘For God’s sake,’ sighed Thea, frustrated by her daughter’s hopelessly misguided loyalty.

‘Of course I want you to be happy. That’s why I came here, to try and make you see sense.’

‘Well let me tell you what would make me happy,’ yelled Janey, trembling all over and clutching the door handle for support. ‘You leaving. Because I won’t be bullied and I won’t stand here and listen to another word of this garbage. You’re interfering with my life and I don’t need it. I don’t need you, either,’ she concluded with intentional cruelty. ‘So why don’t you do us all a favour and just get out of here, now?’

Chapter 44

After a late lunch, Mimi walked with Guy around the garden. Ahead of them, Josh and Ella were spinning around like tops in a race to see who could make themselves dizziest and fall over in the most spectacular fashion. Within seconds, her arms flailing and her legs buckling drunkenly beneath her, Ella staggered sideways into a flowerbed.

‘Masochistic little sods,’ said Mimi fondly as Ella let out a scream of delight and Josh, not to be outdone, careered head first into a mass of overgrown rhododendrons. ‘They’ll keep going until they feel sick, then run to you for sympathy.’

‘If anyone needs sympathy, it’s me.’ Pausing for a moment, Guy took a photograph of Ella as she emerged from the flowerbed. ‘Nothing seems to be going according to plan at the moment. God knows what’s going to happen next,’ he added, adjusting the shutter speed and taking aim once more, ‘but I’m pretty sure I’m not going to like it.’

Poor Guy. Mimi, who had heard all about Alan Sinclair’s return over lunch, tucked a companionable arm through his. ‘Ah, but that’s the thing about masochism,’

she said with the air of one who knows. ‘We might grow up, but that doesn’t mean we automatically grow out of it. Look at me,’ she exclaimed, gesturing towards her hips. ‘I wasted ten years of my life trying to diet! All that miserable calorie-counting and jumping on scales, and what did it achieve? I’d lose a stone, gain a stone, and bore everybody rigid into the bargain ...

My God, was there ever anything more pointless? I was miserable, darling ... a slave to fashion.

Giving up dieting and saying to hell with size twelve was the best decision of my entire life!’

Since Mimi was currently wearing a pink mohair cardigan trimmed with sequins, a mauve organza blouse and a blue-and-white gingham skirt, it was hard to imagine her ever having been a slave to fashion.

Thoroughly mystified, Guy responded with a cautious nod. ‘I see.’

‘And it’s the same with Janey,’ she continued triumphantly. ‘She might think she’s hooked on this wretched husband of hers but all he is, really, is a habit she hasn’t broken. You have to be patient, darling. Given time, she’ll come to her senses and realize she can do without him after all. Mind you, I bet you wish now you’d made your move a bit earlier,’ she added with a smug, I- told-you-so smile. ‘She would have had to think twice then, wouldn’t she, before rushing off without so much as a backward glance? In that respect, I’m afraid you have only yourself to blame.’

‘Really.’ Guy struggled to keep a straight face. ‘Well, this is all very interesting, but I’m afraid you’re on completely the wrong track. Janey’s a friend, nothing more. She’s a very nice girl, but that’s as far as it goes. She just isn’t my type. When I said I didn’t know what was going to happen next,’ he explained, ‘I was referring to Maxine. If this new affair of hers turns out to be more than a nine-day wonder, it’s going to mean trouble for me. Before long, she’ll be wanting to move in with Bruno Parry-Brent and I’ll have to start looking for a new nanny.’

‘Of course you will,’ said Mimi blithely. ‘And who would be absolutely perfect for the job?

Janey.’

‘You’re shameless.’ This time he was unable to hide his smile. ‘Do you know that? Quite apart from the fact that she has a shop to run, I’ve already told you, Janey isn’t my type.’

Mimi, not believing him for a second, pulled the mohair cardigan more tightly around her vast bosom as a sudden gust of wind whistled down her cleavage.

‘You’re only a man,’ she said, her tone comforting. ‘What would you know? You thought Serena was your type.’

‘I have to get back,’ said Maxine regretfully, stirring the surface of the water with her big toe and transferring an artful dollop of foam on to Bruno’s shoulder. ‘We can’t spend the rest of our lives lying in the bath. Besides, I’m starting to prune.’

He reached for her hand and kissed her wrinkled fingertips, one by one. ‘I don’t want you to go. Why don’t you give in your notice and come and live here with me?’

‘What, leave my job?’

‘I left Nina,’ Bruno reminded her. ‘And my job. I’m not going to enjoy sitting around waiting for you to dash over here whenever you can manage to get a couple of hours off.’

She grinned. ‘You’ve done it to enough women yourself, haven’t you? Now you can find out how it feels to be the one on the receiving end.’

‘I want us to be together,’ he said crossly. ‘All the time.’

He was sounding more and more like a fretful mistress. Leaning forward, Maxine gave him a kiss. ‘So do I, but then we’d both be unemployed. Besides, Guy’s been good to me — in his own way — and I can’t leave him in the lurch. Why don’t we just see how things go for a while before doing anything drastic?’

‘Well thanks,’ murmured Bruno, who felt he had already acted pretty drastically. But Maxine, in a hurry to get back to Trezale House, was climbing out of the bath and reaching for the larger of the two towels.

‘Don’t glare at me like that,’ she said cheerfully. ‘You know what I mean. Look, I’ll have a word with Guy and see if we can’t come to some kind of arrangement. If he’s at home, maybe he’ll let me spend my nights here. And the kids are at school during the day ...’

‘Such concern all of a sudden, for Guy Cassidy,’ Bruno complained, watching as she eased herself into her jeans and bent to pick up her crumpled white shirt. ‘He’s hardly likely to go out of his way to make things easier for us. He doesn’t even like me.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Maxine winked. ‘I have ways of getting round Guy. Don’t you trust me?’

‘No.’ He wasn’t used to feeling jealous and he didn’t much like it. ‘That’s why I want you to come and live here.’

‘I don’t trust you, either,’ countered Maxine sweetly, doing up the last couple of buttons and knotting the shirt tails around her waist. ‘So forget it. Because I’m not moving anywhere until you manage to persuade me that I can.’

Guy was leafing through a mound of contact sheets and eating a Marmite sandwich when Maxine rolled into the sitting room at seven.

‘You look as if you’ve just crawled out of bed,’ he observed, taking in her tousled hair, bright eyes and distinctly rumpled white shirt.

‘It’s what you do when you’re in love.’ She gave him an unrepentant smile.

Josh and Ella were sprawled in front of the fire, their blond heads bent over a game of Monopoly. Glancing up, Josh said hopefully, ‘If you’ve been asleep all afternoon, I expect you’d like to play Monopoly now. I’ve nearly finished beating Ella.’

Guy pushed the contact sheets to one side. ‘How was Janey?’

‘Happy.’ Maxine rolled her eyes. ‘What can I say? He fed her some terrible line and she fell for it. ‘I just went along with the whole thing and pretended to be pleased for her.’ Collapsing on to the floor next to Ella, who was biting her lip at the prospect of having to mortgage the Old Kent Road, she added, ‘But it was definitely the right thing to do. At the moment, she won’t hear a word against him.’

‘Hmm,’ said Guy. ‘So I gathered. Your mother phoned earlier, wanting to speak to you.’

Maxine pulled a face. If Thea had somehow heard about Bruno leaving Nina from outside sources, it was entirely possible that she was in for a lecture. Her mother was sensitive about such matters. ‘Oh.’ She looked wary. ‘Did she say what about?’

‘In Technicolor detail.’ Guy glanced across at the children to make sure they weren’t listening. ‘And it isn’t good news. She went round to Janey’s place this afternoon and told Alan exactly what she thought of him. It didn’t go down well at all,’ he explained. ‘She and Janey had a screaming row and Janey ended up booting her out of the flat.’

‘Hell.’ Maxine heaved a gusty sigh. ‘Poor Mum. I suppose I should have warned her. Now we’ve got a family feud on our hands. Was she upset?’

‘Upset, no. Angry, yes.’ He half smiled, recalling the colourful language Thea Vaughan had employed during the course of their forty-minute conversation. ‘But with herself as much as anything. She realizes now that she made a mistake.’

‘Daddy, can you lend me two thousand pounds?’ asked Ella in desperation. ‘To stop me going bankrupt.’

‘She also warned me that I had all this to come,’ Guy went on, shaking his head wearily.

‘Apparently, raising daughters is the pits. One calamity after another.’

‘That means no,’ declared Josh, merciless in victory. ‘Good, you’re bankrupt. You’ve lost and I’ve won. Come on, Maxine, you’re next. I’m the racing car and you can be the old boot.’

‘Good old Mum,’ said Maxine. ‘She always was about as subtle as Bernard Manning.’

‘She certainly has character.’ Guy grinned. ‘She sounded fun though. I’d like to meet her.’

‘Now there’s a thought! Janey and I were only saying this morning that what you need is a woman in your life.’ Maxine’s dark eyes glittered with mischief. ‘Maybe I should introduce you to my mother.’

Chapter 45

Janey was in the shop putting the finishing touches to a congratulations-on-your-retirement bouquet when Guy came in.

‘They’re nice.’ He nodded at the autumnal flowers.

‘For Miss Stirrup, with love from Class 2C.’ Having trimmed and curled the bronze and gold ribbons holding the bouquet together, Janey reached for the staple gun and clipped the accompanying card to the cellophane wrapper. ‘She’s a complete dragon; she was my English teacher, always sticking the whole class in detention when the weather was good and all we wanted to do was go tearing off down to the beach. I was tempted to write out "Have a Happy Retirement" a hundred times,’ she added with a grin. ‘And spell "retirement" wrongly, just to annoy her.’

She was looking well and happy, Guy realized. The habitual working uniform of jeans and tee-shirt had been replaced by a pastel pink wool dress which flattered both her figure and colouring. She was wearing make-up too, not a great deal but enough to make a difference. The overall effect was one of renewed confidence and cheerfulness. So far, he decided, everything appeared to be going well.

But he still couldn’t bring himself to raise the subject of the long-lost husband’s miraculous return. Instead, sticking to safer ground, he placed a large Manila envelope on the counter.

‘I’m just on my way up to London. I thought I’d drop this in before I left. Go on, open it.

It’s for you.’

‘Really?’ Janey gave him a playful look. ‘What is it, more wages?’

Guy smiled. ‘Afraid not.’

‘Oh!’ As the photograph slid out of the envelope, she caught her breath. ‘Oh, my God ...

this is amazing. I can’t believe it’s really me.’

As soon as he had developed Friday night’s films, taken purely in order to test out the latest Olympus, Guy had known he had something special. The particular miracle of photography, he always felt, was the fact that although technical expertise played a part, it was never everything.

The best camera in the world, coupled with perfect lighting and the most compliant subjects, could produce adequate but ultimately disappointing results, whereas occasionally — and for no apparent reason — an off-the-cuff, unplanned snap of a shutter succeeded in capturing a mood, an expression, a moment in time to perfection.

He had felt at once, even as he pegged up the still-dripping print in the darkroom, that this was one such success. It didn’t happen often but it had happened last Friday, and the result was almost magical. Unaware of the camera, Janey had hoisted Ella into her arms in order to give her a clear view of Josh on the dodgems. Their faces, close together, were alight with shared laughter. Ella’s small fingers, curled around Janey’s neck, conveyed love and trust. The only slightly out-of-focus background managed to capture both the excitement and noise of the fairground. Ella’s childish elation and Janey’s pride and delight in Josh’s prowess at the wheel of his dodgem car were reflected with such astonishing clarity, it almost brought a lump to the throat. Unposed, unrehearsed and using only natural available light, it was the kind of one-in-a-million shot all photographers seek to achieve. Guy, having achieved it, had known at once where its future lay.

‘I don’t know much about this kind of thing,’ said Janey, who was still studying the print intently. She hesitated, then glanced up at him. ‘But it is good, isn’t it? I mean seriously good.’

‘I think so.’

‘It has ... impact.’ The fact that she was featured in the picture was irrelevant. Shaking her head, she struggled to express herself more clearly. ‘You can ... feel it. I don’t think anyone could look at this photograph and not respond. And how strange, we look like—’

‘Like what?’ Guy prompted half-teasingly, but she shook her head once more and didn’t reply. Against the darker background, which had created a kind of halo effect, both Ella’s hair and her own appeared white-blond and the camera angle had managed to capture a similarity in their bone structure; but the fact that they looked like mother and daughter was sheer chance, a mere trick of the lens and far too embarrassing to voice aloud.

Instead, she said simply, ‘I love it. Thank you.’

‘And now I have a favour to ask.’ Guy, who knew exactly what had been going through her mind, was amused by her reluctance to comment on the apparent resemblance between Ella and herself. ‘I was approached by a children’s charity a couple of weeks ago. They’re mounting a national appeal and they’ve asked for my help.’

‘Raising money?’ He had given her the photograph. Janey, happy to return the favour, was eager to help. ‘What can I do, keep a collecting tin here on the counter? I did a stint once, rattling a tin on a street corner for the RSPCA.’ With a grin, she added, ‘I did brilliantly, too. It wasn’t until three hours later I realized most of my shirt buttons were undone. All those men stuffing pound coins into my tin had been getting an eyeful of my boobs and there I was saying thank you and thinking what lovely caring people they were.’

‘All these months I’ve known you,’ Guy drawled. ‘And I never figured you for a topless model.’

‘It was almost worse than topless.’ Janey cringed at the memory. ‘I was wearing a really awful old bra held together with a safety pin. Talk about mortifying.’

‘Well you can rattle a tin if you want to, but that wasn’t what I had in mind.’ Leaning against the counter, Guy tapped the photograph with a forefinger. ‘You see, they asked me to come up with the advertising poster for the campaign. With your permission I’d like to use this.’

She stared at him. ‘You’re joking.’

‘Why would I joke? It’s perfect. As you said yourself, you can’t look at this picture and not feel something. With any luck,’ he added with a wink, ‘the public will look at it and feel compelled to donate pots of money.’

At that moment the door to the shop opened behind him. Guy could almost have guessed without turning around that the waft of Paco Rabanne aftershave and accompanying footsteps belonged to Alan Sinclair. Janey had gone two shades pinker and her hand reached automatically to her hair.

But he turned anyway, taking his first look at the man who had caused her such untold grief. He saw what he had expected, too; blond, boyish good looks, an air of laid-back charm, the kind of features typical of a man who knew he stood a greater than average chance of taking risks and getting away with them. The urge to launch right in and tell Alan Sinclair exactly what he thought of him was compelling, but it was a luxury he was unable to allow himself. Thea had tried, and failed spectacularly. For once in her life, he reflected, Maxine had been right.

‘Darling ... I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.’ Janey sounded both pleased and flustered.

‘Guy, this is Alan, my husband. Alan, meet Guy Cassidy ... um, Maxine’s boss.’

Guy was not a vain man. He nevertheless knew from experience that other men, upon meeting him for the first time, instinctively mistrusted him with their own wives or girlfriends.

Even if the women didn’t appear overtly interested – although, he had to admit, they frequently did – the men grew jealous. It was going to be interesting, he decided, to see how Janey’s husband would react.

Alan, however, appeared disappointingly unfazed. There were no gritted teeth behind the cheerful smile as he shook Guy’s hand.

‘Of course,’ he said easily. ‘It’s really nice to meet you, Janey’s told me all about you and your family. I’m also a great admirer of your work.’

‘Thank you.’ The boy had charm, thought Guy. And since he must be almost thirty he wasn’t even a boy; it was simply the impression he gave of being not altogether grown up.

‘Look, darling. Guy dropped by to show me this picture.’ Touching the back of Alan’s wrist in order to regain his attention, Janey pushed the photograph into his hand. ‘He wants to use it for a poster advertising a charity fund-raising campaign. What do you think, isn’t it marvellous?’

Alan studied the print for several seconds, clearly impressed. Finally, flicking back his blond hair, he nodded. ‘It is. Maxine must be over the moon. Fame at last.’

Guy bit his lip. That was always the trouble with deserting your wife, he thought with derision. When you eventually came back you didn’t always recognize her.

‘You idiot,’ giggled Janey. ‘This isn’t Maxine. It’s me.’

‘Oh, right.’ Unperturbed by his mistake, Alan took another look and nodded. Turning to address Guy he said casually, ‘Very flattering. That’s why you’re so in demand as a photographer, of course. It’s all clever stuff.’

Guy barely trusted himself to speak. No wonder Janey was so lacking in self-confidence, he thought bitterly. Between the pair of them, Alan and Bruno had sapped her of every last ounce of the stuff.

‘Flattery doesn’t come into it.’ He had observed Janey’s crestfallen expression. His dark blue eyes glittered as he removed the photograph from Alan Sinclair’s grasp. ‘The picture was there, waiting to be taken. All I did was capture it on film.’

‘Of course,’ Apparently realizing his mistake, Alan shrugged and smiled once more. ‘I’m sorry, ‘I wasn’t implying otherwise. And I think it’ll make a great campaign poster.’

‘I still can’t believe it,’ sighed Janey. ‘This is so exciting.’

‘Not to mention well timed.’ Slipping his arm around her waist, Alan gave her a brief, congratulatory hug. ‘Maybe now we’ll be able to take that holiday after all.’ He turned to look at Guy. ‘How much will she be getting for this?’

Guy stared at him. Janey, whose colour had only just reverted to normal, went bright pink all over again.

‘Alan, it’s for a charity campaign! The idea is to raise money. ‘I wouldn’t be paid!’

‘Oh.’ The disappointment was evident in his voice. This time, when he glanced down at the print, it was without interest. ‘Shame.’

‘I have to go.’ Guy looked at his watch. Janey was embarrassed, which was maybe no bad thing, although if anyone should be ashamed it was her husband. ‘Look, I’m presenting the idea to the organizers this afternoon. When they make their final decision I’ll be in touch.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Alan, when Guy had left the shop. ‘Did I put my foot in it?’

‘Both feet.’ Janey busied herself with a bucket of moss. She had two wreaths to complete before lunch. ‘I can’t believe you said that. God knows what Guy must have thought.’

‘It was a simple enough mistake.’ He looked injured. ‘These models get paid thousands for a couple of hours’ work, don’t they? I was only looking after your interests. Why should you be ripped off, just because you’re a friend?’

‘Well nobody’s being ripped off.’ Shuddering at the memory of the look on Guy’s face, she began packing the damp moss around the wire base of the first wreath. ‘It’s for a children’s charity. Nobody’s getting paid.’

Alan had almost entirely lost interest by now. ‘In that case I can’t imagine why you’re so excited about it. God, I’m starving. Is there anything to eat upstairs?’

‘Not unless you’ve bought some food.’ Irritated by his manner, Janey’s reply bordered on sarcasm. ‘Since I’ve been working since five o’clock this morning, I’m afraid ‘I haven’t had time to visit the supermarket.’

He was immediately contrite. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry, sweetheart.’

‘Well.’ In her agitation, she narrowly missed slicing her finger on a protruding wire. ‘Just don’t expect gourmet meals, OK? I’m not Superwoman.’

‘You are to me.’ Alan gave her his most beguiling smile. Leaning across the counter and pulling her towards him, he kissed her soft, down-turned mouth. ‘Don’t be cross, Janey. You know how much I love you.’

She was still tense. He really had upset her. When she didn’t reply, he smoothed a wayward strand of blond hair from her cheek and said, ‘Come on, sweetheart. What is it? Is there something going on that I should know about?’

Janey hesitated. ‘Like what?’

‘Like the possibility that there could be more to this so-called friendship between you and Guy Cassidy than meets the eye?’

Oh God, she thought wearily. Not again.

‘Well?’ he persisted.

‘No.’ She shook her head for added emphasis. ‘Of course there isn’t.’

‘Hmm,’ said Alan, not sounding entirely convinced. His eyes narrowed as he studied her evident discomfort. ‘There’d better not be.’

The discord had unnerved Janey. It was their first semi-argument and the knot of tension in the pit of her stomach had stayed with her all afternoon. Easy-going by nature, she wished now she hadn’t snapped at Alan, but at the same time she didn’t feel she’d acted too unreasonably. As long as he wasn’t working, she didn’t see why she should put in a sixty-hour week in the shop and knock herself out cooking three-course dinners in her precious free time.

It was with some trepidation that she climbed the stairs to the flat at six-thirty. She was hungry and her feet ached. She definitely didn’t feel up to an evening of verbal sparring and unease.

As she began to turn the door handle, however, she heard Alan’s voice shouting from inside: ‘Stop! Don’t come in!’

For a fraction of a second, Janey felt her heart lurch. It was ridiculous, but the memory of a recent TV drama came flooding back to her. The wife, arriving home early from work, had been commanded to wait outside the front door in just such a manner whilst the husband’s mistress, fetchingly wrapped in a bed sheet, had made her escape through the kitchen door at the back of the house. It had struck a chord at the time, because she had experienced the same situation when Maxine and the cricketers had been hammering on the door and she had been caught with Bruno.

The difference, of course, was that in this flat there was no back door from which one could safely escape, only windows and an ankle-snapping fifteen-foot drop.

The next moment, Alan opened the door himself. He grinned. ‘OK, you can come in now.

All ready.’

She hadn’t seriously doubted him, of course, but the sight that greeted her still managed to bring a lump to Janey’s throat. There were no semi-naked females in the dimly lit living room.

Instead, the small dining table had been set for two. Flickering candles cast an auburn glow over the tablecloth, and he had unearthed the crystal glasses she so seldom used. An unopened bottle of champagne stood in an ice-packed Pyrex bowl.

‘Surprise,’ murmured Alan, in her ear. ‘I hope you’re hungry.’

Unbelievably touched by the gesture, Janey could only nod. The fact that it was so unexpected made it all the more special. This, she reminded herself, was why she loved him.

‘I’m sorry about this morning.’ Taking her hand, he led her towards the table. ‘My stupid jealousy. But I’m going to make everything up to you, sweetheart. Here, sit down. Didn’t I say we should celebrate my return with champagne?’

It was actually ‘méthode champenoise’, Janey observed, glancing at the label. But that was just as nice as the proper kind .. .

Watching him ease the cork from the bottle, she held her breath as she always did in anticipation of the moment of release. When it finally happened, however, it was sadly lacking in oomph. The cork, instead of ricocheting off the ceiling, toppled limply to the floor. The accompanying silence was deafening.

Alan looked disappointed. ‘Story of my life,’ he said with a regretful grimace. ‘I suppose it was bound to happen. I always seem to get everything wrong.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Janey’s eyes filled with tears as she leap to her feet and hugged him. ‘You do everything right. You’ve cooked a stupendous dinner, haven’t you? Why don’t I dash down to the off-licence and pick up another bottle whilst you’re serving up?’

‘Actually,’ he said, ‘it might be a better idea if you give me the money and I get the bottle.You can take a look at the food. I’ve done my best, but you aren’t the only one who isn’t Superwoman,’ he added defensively. ‘It may not be stupendous.’

Janey smiled. ‘Why, what’s the problem?’

‘Well, I don’t know.’ Alan shook his head and looked perplexed. ‘I’ve never cooked a stupid chicken before. Is it really supposed to have a plastic bag full of squishy bits up its bum?’

Chapter 46

Valentina di Angelo was only temperamental when she wanted to be. Her fame had been founded upon the highly public rows between herself and her first husband, a hard-drinking but undoubtedly talented actor. Following their even more public divorce, Valentina had come to the reasonable conclusion that while displays of temperament were newsworthy, sweet, quiet, nice girls who liked sewing, reading and watching EastEnders were not.

She was always careful, though, to ensure that the temperamental outbursts didn’t affect her work. As far as the paparazzi were concerned, Valentina di Angelo never turned up anywhere less than three hours late, but her modelling career was something else altogether. Always cheerful, always punctual, she worked like a trooper and never complained about anything. No supermodel, after all, was ever that indispensable. Hurling insults at chat-show hosts, journalists and horrible hangers-on, and generally acting the drama queen, was a strictly after-hours occupation.

It worked, too, like a dream. She was famous for being a beautiful, acid-tongued bitch, and only the people she cared about knew any different.

And although she’d only just met Guy Cassidy, she had already placed him on the list of people she cared about. They had worked well together, she felt, but it was the tantalizing distance he’d kept which intrigued her more than anything else. Even during the shoot itself —

during which she’d been wearing not very much at all — he hadn’t seemed to notice the lush perfection of her body in the way most top photographers did. The end results had been faultless of course, but as far as Valentina was concerned there was a certain amount of unfinished business to be taken care of. With two short-lived marriages and seven broken engagements behind her, she also felt she had plenty of experience. She’d met her share of Mr Wrongs and got them out of her system. Now, at twenty-five, she was ready for Mr Right. And Guy Cassidy, with his talent, toe-curling good looks and enigmatic personality, was without a doubt right up her street. Better still, he had unceremoniously dumped her arch rival Serena Charlton. It therefore stood to reason, she thought happily, that the man had impeccable taste.