Falling for you

‘I know it’s never going to happen, but I do wish Jakeand Juliet could get together.’ Regretfully Marcella shook her head. ‘They’d make such a great couple. They did Sonny and Cher last night.’

‘Sonny and Cher got divorced,’ Maddy pointed out. Then she said, ‘What?’ because Marcella’s expression had abruptly changed.

‘Kerr McKinnon. Heard anything about him lately?’

Maddy almost fell off her chair. The air was knocked from her lungs as if she’d just been punched by a giant fist.

Was this some kind of test? No, it couldn’t be; Marcella wasn’t the game-playing type. If you’d done something wrong she confronted you outright, more often than not with a frying pan in her hand. She didn’t pretend everything was fine, then suddenly launch into an attack.

‘Who? Kerr McKinnon? Why would I have heard anything?’ Her skin prickled all over with the effort of sounding normal.

‘Oh, I know, daft question. It was just something Kate Taylor-Trent said last night. We were in the kitchen when she asked if he was back living around here. Gave me a jolt, I can tell you.’

She wasn’t the only one. Staring at Marcella, who was looking decidedly fierce, Maddy said, ‘What made her say that? I thought he’d moved to London for good.’

‘Let’s hope so. It was just that Kate thought she saw him the other day, driving down Gypsy Lane.’

Marcella’s mouth narrowed as she jabbed a fork into her tomato, splattering juice.

‘She probably made a mistake. Nobody’s seen him for years, they wouldn’t even know what he looked like these days. People change,’ said Maddy, her legs wound rigidly around each other like barbed wire under the kitchen table.

‘Ha!’ Marcella’s eyes were colder than ice. ‘Not that family. I’d recognise any of them, and that’s a promise.’

Oh Lord. ‘I’m sure it wasn’t him.’

‘Better not have been. Driving through Ashcombe as if nothing had ever happened.’ Bitterly Marcella went on, ‘Although as far as they’re concerned, I’m sure nothing ever did. Arrogant bastards, the lot of them. I daresay they’ve forgotten all about it by now. Oh, don’t let me get started on that family ...’

That was the trouble with Marcella, Maddy decided helplessly; she didn’t differentiate between the various McKinnons, just lumped them together as a single entity. It was no good trying to explain to her that Den McKinnon had been the one driving the car and that Kerr had been out of the country at the time. They were brothers and as far as Marcella was concerned that was all that mattered. Anyone who was a McKinnon could rot in hell.

‘ Now look what they’ve made me do.’ Crossly Marcella rubbed at the mark on the front of her scarlet silk kimono, as if Kerr McKinnon had personally erupted into the kitchen and fired tomato juice down her front. Glad of a diversion, Maddy jumped up and fetched a J-cloth from the drainer. Her mobile, lying on the kitchen table next to her plate, promptly began to chirp.

‘Nuala.’ Having glanced at the caller display, Marcella handed over the phone in exchange for the damp J-cloth. Taking it with trepidation, Maddy thought that on balance she’d have preferred to keep the cloth.

Chapter 16

True to form, Nuala wasted no time in coming straight to the point.

‘“Sex bomb, sex bomb,— she sang down the phone, evidently still in raucous karaoke mode. ‘So don’t hold back, tell me everything, how did it go?’ Then she laughed dirtily, like Benny Hill. ‘Or should that be, how’s it going? Are you still at his place? Been getting jiggy-jiggy, have we?

Come on, come on, I need to know!’

Maddy had the phone pressed so tightly against her ear it was a wonder it hadn’t burst through the other side. Nuala could be nerve-wrackingly loud when she wanted.

‘Yes, I’ve been hearing all about it,’ she replied brightly. ‘I’m here at Mum’s house now.

Marcella was just telling me about Dexter doing his Rod Stewart thing—’

‘OK, OK, I get the message,’ Nuala interrupted. ‘Just give me a few clues to be going on with. I know, we’ll play the yes/no game. First, did you—?’

‘Actually,’ Maddy broke in hurriedly, ‘we’re just having breakfast and my sausages are getting cold. Why don’t I ring you back later?’

‘Boring! No, you aren’t wriggling out of it that easily.’ Bossily Nuala said, ‘I’m the one who persuaded you to go over there, remember? And there’s nothing wrong with a cold sausage, so I want to hear all about it now.’

Confiding in Nuala had been a huge mistake, Maddy now realised. How could she have been so stupid?

‘OK, thanks, I’ll call you back in an hour.’ Cutting off Nuala’s outraged protests with a flick of a switch, Maddy slid the phone into her shirt pocket and said to Marcella, ‘You know what Nuala’s like, she’ll be wittering on for hours. Is there any more coffee in that pot?’

‘I’m not deaf, you know.’ Marcella shook her head, surveying Maddy with resignation. ‘I know what’s going on.’ Oh crikey.

‘What? Mum, I keep telling you, nothing’s going on.’

‘And you’ve always been a hopeless liar.’ Refilling their cups, Marcella said, ‘You’re seeing someone and you don’t want me to know about it.’

Prevaricating, feeling sick, Maddy stammered, ‘Why would I do that?’

‘Oh, come on, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? He’s married.’

Married. Going red had its uses, Maddy discovered. Marcella, automatically mistaking fervent relief for miserable guilt, said, ‘There you see, I knew it. Oh darling, what have you got yourself mixed up in? How did this happen? How long has it been going on?’

Lost for words, Maddy shook her head helplessly.

‘A married man,’ Marcella continued. ‘Someone with a wife.’ She heaved a sorrowful sigh.

‘Sweetheart, this is bad news, you have to think about how you’d feel if you were married to someone who was cheating on you.’

Maddy shifted uncomfortably in her seat; what had seemed like a brilliant idea twenty seconds ago was turning out to be less brilliant than she’d thought. Marcella’s disappointment was almost as hard to bear as her incandescent fury would have been.

Almost, but not quite.

‘He’s separated from his wife,’ Maddy mumbled defensively. ‘Well, pretty much. As good as.

They’re getting a divorce.’

‘Are they? Truly? Or is that just what he tells you?’ Pushing her plate to one side, Marcella lit a cigarette and exhaled, the ruler-straight stream of smoke signalling her disapproval. For all her unorthodox lifestyle, she was a woman of high moral standards, with a strong sense of right and wrong.

‘They’re getting a divorce,’ Maddy promised.

‘Children?’

‘Oh, no.’

Marcella raised an eyebrow. ‘And is that true? Or could he be fibbing about that too?’

Outraged at the implied slur on her imaginary boyfriend’s character, Maddy wailed, ‘Why are you so suspicious? Of course he doesn’t have any children.’

‘Have you met his wife?’

‘No!’

‘Does she know you’re seeing her husband?’

Actually, make it too much of an amicable separation and Marcella might want to meet him too.

Hesitating, Maddy said, ‘Well, no.’

‘And you wonder why I’m so suspicious,’ sighed Marcella. ‘Sweetheart, he lied to her. What makes you think he wouldn’t lie to you?’

‘He just wouldn’t. Anyway, don’t lecture me. I don’t want to talk about this any more.’

It’ll end in tears. You have to finish it now,’ Marcella said gently. ‘Sweetheart, you know you must.’

‘Like I keep telling you, with your cigarettes.’ Maddy glanced pointedly at the Silk Cut smouldering in her mother’s hand. ‘And look how much notice you take of me.’

‘Fine.’ Marcella ground the half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray and fixed her with a challenging stare. ‘Let’s both give up what’s no good for us, shall we?’

‘It’s not the same thing!’

‘You just said it was.’

Maddy jutted out her chin like a teenager. This was ridiculous; they were about to have an argument about a boyfriend who didn’t even exist.

Except ... he did. He just wasn’t married.

He was Kerr McKinnon, which was worse.

‘OK, I won’t see him again. But you mustn’t nag me about it. And,’ she said truculently, ‘you have to give up smoking.’

Marcella looked as if she’d like to say a whole lot more, but was holding it inside her with enormous difficulty. Finally she said, ‘I’m only worried because I love you. Getting involved with someone like that won’t make you happy, sweetheart. You aren’t the marriage-wrecking type.’

‘I didn’t wreck his marriage, it was over months ago. But we aren’t talking about this any more, remember? Now, do you want some help with the clearing up or shall I go and see Nuala?’

‘I’d rather you went and saw lover boy, told him it was over.’

Thinking fast, Maddy said, ‘I can’t. Sundays aren’t .. . good.’ -

‘You mean he spends them with his wife.’ Marcella’s tone was sorrowful, but tinged with triumph. ‘Sweetheart, what does that tell you? He’s never going to leave her!’

‘He will. Just you wait.’

‘Oh please, have some dignity. You deserve so much better than this.’

‘I told you, I’ll stop seeing him,’ Maddy insisted. ‘It’s just that Sundays are difficult. I will do it, I promise. Just not today.’

* * *

‘We’re shut,’ said Dexter. ‘Can’t you tell the time?’ Actually, he was looking rather attractive this morning in a dishevelled celebrity chef kind of way. Dexter might be the world’s stroppiest character, but he definitely had sexy eyes. If you didn’t mind a few bags and wrinkles.

Or insults.

‘I need a quick word with Nuala.’ Maddy flashed him a bright smile, because Dexter didn’t scare her.

‘God, another one? Hurry up then, don’t take all day about it.’ Begrudgingly, Dexter allowed her inside the pub. Raising his voice he roared, ‘Nuala? Get down here, you lazy lump. Someone here to see you.’

‘It’s OK, I’ll go on up.’ Darting past him, Maddy headed for the staircase.

‘That’s it, and make sure you close the door behind you so I can’t overhear. She’ll be dying to catch you up on all the latest news,’ said Dexter with a smirk.

Maddy’s mouth went dry. ‘What kind of news?’

‘Made a fool of herself last night at the barbecue, didn’t she. Thinks she stands a chance with that brother of yours — ha, as if he’d look twice at a pudding like her.’

Oh Lord, this didn’t sound promising. What had Jake been up to now?

Upstairs, Nuala was practising staying upright on a pair of brand new, ludicrously high-heeled shoes. As she teetered across the living room and collapsed onto the overstuffed yellow sofa, Maddy said,

‘Never do that again.’

‘I know, Dexter says I look like Lily Savage out on a bender, I think it’s because the ankle straps are too loose.’

‘Don’t give me that rubbish. Marcella was listening to that phone call. You know she mustn’t find out who I was with last night.’

‘Oh, come on, lighten up, it was just a bit of fun.’

Waggling her outstretched feet, Nuala admired her impractical lilac shoes.

‘Take it from me, it wasn’t fun. I almost wet myself.’

‘Don’t try and blame your weak bladder on me. Anyway, how could I give anything away? I didn’t even mention his name.’ Nuala looked impossibly smug. ‘The dreaded K-word never once passed my lips, I was the soul of discretion — ooh, the sole of discretion, get it?’ Kicking up her legs, she pointed to the bottom of her shoes. Delighted by her own wit she cried, ‘And you know I’d never give away your naughty secret. If I did that, I’d be an utter heel!’

‘So what’s this I hear about you and Jake?’ said Maddy, and Nuala’s face abruptly lit up.

‘Oh, my God, who told you about that? Was it Jake?’

‘No.’ When she’d left the house this morning, Jake had still been asleep. ‘Your live-in lover happened to mention it.’

Nuala wriggled with delight. ‘In a jealous way?’

‘Actually, in more of a what’ s-the-silly-cow-playing-at now sort of way.’

‘That means I’ve got him worried. Anyhow, I didn’t start it. Jake was the one doing all the flirting. You know, I think he secretly really fancies me. Has he ever mentioned anything to you?’

Oh please.

‘Jake’s Jake. You know what he’s like. Female plus pulse equals potential shag.’ Maddy was deliberately blunt; sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind.

‘Oh well, not that I ever would, of course.’ Nuala tried to hide her disappointment. ‘It’s just nice, sometimes, to be flirted with.’

‘Instead of publicly humiliated.’

‘Exactly. I mean, I know Dexter doesn’t mean it, it’s justhis way, but if he sees other men chatting me up it might make him appreciate me a bit more.’

‘Hmm, maybe.’ Trussing Dexter up with barbed wire and lowering him head first over a tank of alligators wasn’t likely to make him appreciate Nuala a bit more, but Maddy didn’t say so. For the first time, Nuala was actually acknowledging that the endless insults were starting to get her down. Since any attempt to persuade her to dump Dexter would only cause her to leap to his defence, Maddy left it at that.

‘Anyway.’ Brushing aside the subject of Dexter and Jake, Nuala leaned forward eagerly. ‘Your turn now. Tell me about last night. Was he spectacular in bed?’

Never backwards in coming forwards, that was Nuala.

Maddy’s childhood drama classes came flooding back.

‘[didn’t sleep with him,’ she protested, as convincingly as she knew how.

‘Liar liar pants on fire,’ crowed Nuala. ‘Look at your face.’

Oh well, it had been worth a try.

‘OK, but you mustn’t tell anyone. Really, I mean really, really.’

Nuala nodded vigorously. ‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

‘Good,’ said Maddy, ‘because if you breathe one word about this, you will die. And that’s a promise.’

Chapter 17

Hillview was the name of the house. Maddy tensed as she reached the entrance to the property and saw, half-hidden by • an overhang of ivy, the battered wooden sign.

Checking for the hundredth time that the road was empty both ahead and behind her as far as the eye could see, she turned the Saab into the bumpy driveway. Then her heart began to race as she realised the danger of being spotted was behind her now. When she’d rung Kerr on his mobile she’d assumed he was at home; it had come as something of a shock when he’d told her he was here instead. It had come as even more of a shock when he’d invited her over to join him.

‘Come and take a look at the place. I could do with a second opinion.’

Maddy shivered with a mixture of lust and trepidation. ‘But what if someone sees me?’

‘They won’t, how can they? The house is completely hidden from the road. And, trust me, nobody ever comes here. Not even Jehovah’s Witnesses.’ Kerr’s voice was persuasive, as irresistible as melted chocolate. ‘You’ll be quite safe, I promise.’

‘OK.’ Maddy had swallowed hard. As if she could say no.

Hillview. Well, it was situated on a hill and many years ago there undoubtedly had been a view, but that was before Pauline McKinnon had instructed her gardener to get planting those leylandii. Now the fiendishly fast-growing trees surrounded the house like a fortress. Intimidating but, under the circumstances, useful.

Kerr’s dark blue Mercedes was parked at the head of the drive. Pulling up behind it, Maddy exhaled slowly and gazed up at the house itself. Hillview was a rambling Victorian property built from honey-coloured Bath stone, with diamond-leaded windows and steeply sloping gables. The garden was hopelessly overgrown, the window frames could do with a paint job and the shadows cast by the towering leylandii created an air of gloom, but these were all problems that could be solved. She could just see it, advertised in Country Life. This house was eminently marketable and would fetch a good price.

The front door opened and Kerr appeared on the top step, wearing jeans and a bleached blue rugby shirt. Feeling the tug of an invisible elastic band, Maddy jumped out of the car and raced into his outstretched arms. It might not be the cool thing to do, but she didn’t care. Nobody had ever made her feel like this before and if she didn’t kiss him this minute she might self-detonate.

It was no good, Kerr McKinnon was everything she’d ever wanted. Clinging to him as his tongue slid into her mouth, Maddy realised that this was what she’d been missing out on all these years. He was the elusive piece of the jigsaw making her feel, for the first time in her life, complete.

Oh God, he was electrifying, how could she ever bear to give him up?

‘This is hopeless,’ Kerr murmured, holding her close. ‘You’re meant to be putting me off you.

I don’t think you’re even trying.’

‘OK. Sorry.’ Quick, think, what was the most off-putting thing a besotted girl could say? ‘I love you, I want to marry you, can we get engaged?’ whined Maddy. ‘Then we can live happily ever after and have lots of babies. In fact, I think I may already be pregnant ...’

‘Sorry, nice try, it just doesn’t seem to be doing the trick. Maybe I should show you over the house.’ Taking her by the hand, Kerr led the way across the shadowy hall and up the winding staircase. ‘I’d especially like you to see my old bedroom.’

Guessing from the look in his eyes that his intentions were — thank goodness — completely dishonourable, Maddy said innocently, ‘Got any etchings up there?’

‘No,’ Kerr gave her waist a squeeze, exploring the sensitive gap between her top and her jeans, ‘but I’ve got a double bed.’

Oh God in Heaven, how could she ever, in a million years, get bored of an experience as indescribably stupendous as that?

‘I can’t believe I’m here. In your mother’s house,’ whispered Maddy when she was finally able to speak normally again. Breathe normally, too, rather than pant like a dog.

‘It’s where I grew up. It was my house too,’ Kerr reminded her.

‘I know. It feels a bit funny, though. You’d feel a bit funny if we’d just done this in my family home.’

‘I’d be bloody terrified. Imagine being caught by Marcella.’

Heavenly though it would have been, they couldn’t spend the entire afternoon in bed. After a quick shower, Maddy headed downstairs where Kerr was in the kitchen making a pot of coffee.

‘OK? I’d have opened a bottle of wine but you said you’d told Marcella you were going shopping.’ He kissed Maddy on the mouth. ‘If you’re hungry I’ve got some stuff in the fridge.’

‘I’m not hungry.’ That was the great thing about new-man syndrome, it shrank your appetite to thimble-sized proportions. ‘Marcella knows I’m seeing someone, by the way. She was dying to meet you, so I had to tell her you were married.’

‘I wouldn’t have thought you were the type. A married man?’ Kerr raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s terrible.’

‘Your wife doesn’t understand you.’ Maddy’s tone was reassuring. ‘It’s a hopeless situation, you’ve both been miserable for years and you’re on the verge of splitting up. Plus, of course, she’s a complete bitch.’

‘Oh well, goes without saying. That’s all right then.’

‘Marcella doesn’t think so. She isn’t thrilled. We nearly had a big fight about it.’

‘But not so big a fight as if you’d told her who you were really seeing,’ said Kerr. ‘Do I have a name, by the way?’

‘No. Easier not to give you one. You’re just ... married.’

‘Any kids?’

‘No way. I’m not that much of a cow. Although,’ Maddy was struck by a thought, ‘maybe you could have had just one, then found out it wasn’t yours after all ... Oh well, never mind, too late now.

Anyway, let’s not talk about Marcella. When are you going to put this place on the market?’

‘Well, that’s one of the reasons I asked you to come over and see it. One of the reasons,’ Kerr said with a smile. ‘You see, I had a word with my bank manager yesterday. Business is good at the agency and I may not need to sell the house after all. I can take out a second mortgage, which would cover the nursing home fees. That way, my mother’s taken care of and I could move out of that flat. Live here instead.’

Here. Crikey. Good grief.

‘Well?’ prompted Kerr. ‘What d’you think?’

Maddy shook her head; she didn’t know what to think. It all depended on how their relationship panned out, didn’t it? Because secretly seeing each other and hoping to God that the novelty would wear off and that sooner or later they’d call it a day was all very well, but the chances of it happening by mutual agreement were, frankly, slim. It was far more likely that one of them would get bored first and finish with the other, and although it didn’t seem terribly likely at present, Maddy was rather hoping to be the finisher rather than the finishee. If she could just man age to persuade herself to go off Kerr McKinnon, how much easier it would be, knowing that he was living here, just a couple of miles from Ashcombe. If, on the other hand, he broke her heart and left her bereft, it wouldn’t be easy at all.

Maddy gave herself a mental slap. This was ridiculous; whether Kerr lived two miles away here or five miles away in Bath, what difference did it make? She had to get a grip, act like a mature and sensible adult. Whatever happened between them, Kerr was entitled to live wherever he liked. And this was a beautiful house.

Now, why was he looking at her like that? Oh yes, waiting for her to say something.

Brightly, Maddy said, ‘Great.’

‘Come on, finish your coffee. I’ll show you around.’

‘You said that before, and we didn’t get too far.’

‘I know, sorry about that. My motives were pure, I promise you.’ Kerr’s eyes glittered with wickedness. ‘I was pretending to be a sex-crazed seducer, to put you off me. I just hope it worked.’

Maddy thought about it. ‘Good tactics. But this time I’m actually going to see the rest of the house?’

‘Not making any promises,’ Kerr murmured into her still-damp hair. ‘I may have to seduce you in a few more rooms en route. But we’ll give it a go.’

‘Marcella told me. She’s not thrilled.’

‘Didn’t expect her to be,’ Maddy retaliated with a careless shrug. Fresh from the bath, she was in the kitchen making herself cheese on toast. She had no intention of being intimidated and lectured to by, of all people, Jake.

Watching her, Jake said evenly, ‘So, who is he?’ Had he suspected, earlier, that it could be Kerr?

‘No one you know, no one you’ve heard of, and I’m not telling you his name because there’s no point. Now, do you want some cheese on toast or not?’

Jake leaned against the door, his hands folded.

‘Marcella wants you to finish with him.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, of course she wants me to finish with him!’ Shaking her head in defiance, Maddy prodded the bubbling slices of cheese on toast under the grill with her knife. ‘But it’s not as easy as that. Which is why you’ve been dragged in to put the pressure on, presumably.’ She raised her eyebrows at Jake. ‘Although why I should take a blind bit of notice of anything you say, I’ve no idea. You sleep with married women, why can’t I do it too?’

‘There’s a difference,’ said Jake. ‘OK, I may have slept with a few married women in my time, but it was never serious. Just a bit of fun, to cheer them up and tide them over while their husbands weren’t doing their share. I don’t get emotionally involved and I certainly don’t put their marriages at risk.’

‘What a hero,’ Maddy said crossly. ‘Your trouble is, you never get emotionally involved with anyone, married or not. But Sophie’s seven now, doesn’t it ever occur to you that maybe you should give it a go? I mean, you can’t spend the rest of your life just shagging your way round Bath for the hell of it. Don’t you think it’s about time you found yourself someone nice and settled down? You never know, if you carried on seeing a girl for longer than three days, you might find out you actually liked her.’

‘Here comes Sophie,’ said Jake as the back door banged and Sophie and Bean raced in. ‘Tell you what, you don’t lecture me and I won’t lecture you.’ Strolling over and turning off the smoking grill he added, ‘Even though I know exactly what I’m doing and you haven’t a clue. These are wrecked, by the way. I’ll have the one on the left.’

‘Bugger off.’ Maddy pushed him out of the way. ‘You can have the one on the right. Unless Sophie wants some.’ Turning, she said, ‘Soph? Fancy some cheese on toast?’

Sophie, who adored rude words and was swinging from the door jamb, said happily, ‘Bugger off, I want one that isn’t burned.’

Chapter 18

It was probably PMT, but that didn’t make all the little irritations of the day any less irritating.

Estelle, having stacked the dishwasher and discovered that the only things she actively disliked washing wouldn’t fit into it anyway, was at the kitchen sink scrubbing futilely at a roasting pan that was determined not to relinquish its welded-on bits of caramelised parsnip.

This wasn’t turning out to be one of her better days. Kate had been so snappish all morning that when she had taken Norris out for a walk after lunch, it had been a relief. Oliver had, in the space of the last couple of hours, managed to criticise Estelle’s roast potatoes, her dress sense and her less than intellectual taste in novels, leaving her with an ego like a deflated condom and the urge to punch him on the nose. Now Oliver had left as well, departed for London for the day, and as far as she was concerned London was jolly well welcome to him.

‘Oh fuck it.’ Estelle leapt back from the sink as her vigorous scrubbing caused a wave of washing-up water to sloosh down the front of her turquoise linen shirt. Not lovely clean, bubbly washing-up water, of course, but brackish greasy water complete with floaty burned bits. Just what you needed to accessorise a linen shirt.

‘Shit, shit,’ whispered Estelle, snatching up the tea towel and pressing it to her front — for all the good it would do.

‘Are you OK? Did you cut yourself?’ Will’s voice behind her made her jump; she hadn’t heard him come into the kitchen.

Turning round, shaking her head helplessly, Estelle showed him her sopping wet front. ‘Just making a mess of this, like I’ve made a mess of everything else today.’

‘Well, I’m glad it’s only water. Can’t stand the sight of blood.’ Will’s eyes crinkled reassuringly at her behind his glasses, and he was holding something wrapped in a plastic carrier bag that looked as if it might be a large bone for Norris. ‘Go and change into something dry,’ he went on gently.

‘And don’t be silly, you haven’t messed up anything else. That was a fantastic lunch.’

Upstairs, Estelle stripped off her shirt and as an act of rebellion changed into a pale pink sweatshirt — the one that, according to Oliver, made her look like a giant marshmallow. And not in a good way. Sod Oliver, Estelle told herself resentfully, thinking she really should run a comb through her hair and deciding she couldn’t be bothered. He wasn’t even here, and she liked this sweatshirt.

At least Will, with his non-existent clothes sense, wasn’t likely to criticise it.

He was leaving too, heading back up to London this afternoon with the first few hours of recorded videotape under his belt. As she made her way downstairs, Estelle realised how sorry she’d be to see Will go; he was such a genuinely nice, easygoing character, which certainly made a change from Oliver’s air of preoccupation and picky, often pedantic, manner.

‘Oh!’ Estelle stopped short in the kitchen, overwhelmed by the sight of the roasting tin, now scrubbed sparkling clean, propped up on the drainer. ‘Oh Will, you didn’t have to do that!’

‘Hey, it’s only a roasting tin. It’s not as if I built a conservatory.’ Waving aside her protestations, he reached for the carrier bag on top of the fridge. ‘Anyway, this is for you. A little thank you present for making me so welcome. It’s not much, but ...’ As he handed it over, Estelle saw that his flapping shirtcuffs were now damp where he’d neglected to roll up his sleeves before setting to with the Brillo pad. Taking the carrier bag and opening it, she saw that it didn’t contain a ham bone for Norris but an assortment of bath products. Tears sprang into her eyes as she saw that Will had bought her a bottle of lavender oil, several cellophane-wrapped bars of fruit-scented soaps, a tube of geranium foaming shower gel and a loofah.

He either thought she stank to high heaven and was keen to remedy the situation fast, or he was the sweetest, most thoughtful man she’d ever met.

‘Oh Will, this is just ...’

‘Are they OK? I’m rubbish at buying presents, but the girl in the shop said they’d be fine.’

Eagerly he went on, ‘And I’m sorry I didn’t wrap them properly but I’m hopeless at wrapping stuff up too — oh God, don’t cry, please don’t cry.’ Will moved towards her, attempting to grab the bag back. ‘What’s the matter? Did I buy the wrong things? I know you’re probably used to more expensive brands, but the people in the shop were just so friendly ... I can’t believe I’ve upset you like this ...’

‘You haven’t, I promise.’ Shaking her head vigorously, Estelle managed a watery smile. Will, I love my presents. It’s not them and it’ s not you. I just ... well, I’m not having a very good d-day, that’s all, and people being unexpectedly nice to me always makes me cry. And yes, OK, maybe I am used to expensive brands’ — the gloriously gift-wrapped baskets that Oliver ordered over the internet every Christmas from Jo Malone sprang to mind — ‘but these mean so much more. You chose everything yourself and that’s wonderful.’ Wiping her eyes, she hiccupped, ‘Especially the loofah. Nobody’s ever given me a loofah before.’

Will looked relieved. ‘Really? You’re not just being polite? To be honest, I’m not absolutely sure what a loofah does, but ... hey, you’re still crying. It’s not just the present, is it? Come on, tell me what’s wrong.’

Feeling utterly drained, Estelle allowed him to steer her onto a kitchen chair. Will took a glass down from the wall cabinet and filled it to the brim from the half-empty bottle of Beaujolais left from lunch.

‘It’s nothing. I’m just being silly.’ Nevertheless her hand sneaked out and clutched the glass.

‘You aren’t being silly.’ He paused. ‘And I’m not stupid. I do have eyes in my head, you know.’

The room-temperature wine slipped comfortingly down Estelle’s throat, warming her stomach and soothing her frazzled nerve endings, but she didn’t dare speak. To cover the awkward silence she took another hefty gulp instead.

‘It’s OK,’ Will said eventually, ‘I can guess what’s bothering you. You’re loyal to Oliver and I’m a TV journalist. But I promise you, I’m not the blabbing kind. I don’t do hatchet jobs, that isn’t my style.

If I did,’ he went on with a brief smile, ‘I’d soon run out of subjects. Nobody would let me film them. So you see, it’s not even in my interests to dig the dirt. You can talk to me as a friend and I swear I’d never use anything you told me. But I do think you shouldn’t bottle things up. And, as I said, I do already have a pretty good idea.’

Estelle found a hanky in her pocket and blew her nose. Of course he had a pretty good idea, he was a documentary maker, for heaven’s sake. Trained to observe everything and never miss a trick. Then again, he was right about it not being in his interests to dig the dirt. Having now had a chance to see videos of his previous programmes she knew that Will’s style was affectionate and quirky, never underhand or sly.

‘The thing is, I know how lucky I am.’ Hearing her voice wobble, Estelle took another gulp of wine to steady it. ‘Living here in this beautiful house with a swimming pool, a nice car, no money worries —

crikey, that’s what everyone dreams of, isn’t it? It’s why people buy lottery tickets. And I’m healthy, I’m not dying from some horrible incurable disease. What reason do I have to moan and feel sorry for myself?

But sometimes I just ... Oh God, I don’t know, most women would give their right arms to have my advantages ...’

‘But you’re not happy,’ Will said gently. ‘And you feel guilty because you think you should be.

Estelle, millions of people buy lottery tickets thinking that hitting the jackpot will solve all their problems, but only the ones who’ve actually done it discover the truth. If you aren’t happy in yourself, no amount of money will change that. It isn’t going to solve fundamental problems in, say, a marriage.’

Estelle swallowed hard. It was so obvious he already knew, what was the point of even trying to deny it?

‘Oliver’s not a bad man.’ Her voice was low. ‘He doesn’t drink, or beat me up, or flaunt mistresses under my nose. But sometimes he’s ... hard to handle. He has his career, he gets picky sometimes, and he can be a bit abrupt.’

‘Autocratic, even,’ Will suggested mildly.

‘OK, yes, autocratic. But we’ve been together for twenty-seven years. Since I was eighteen. For heaven’s sake, you’d think I’d be used to it by now.’

‘He’s always been the same?’

‘Well, no. I mean, Oliver was always the one in charge, but that was just his character. Over the last year or so, though, it’s got worse. I’ve started to feel completely unimportant, I don’t know why I’m here any more, I just feel ... pointless.’ Feeling her eyes fill with tears again, Estelle took a shuddery breath. ‘Fat and pointless, that’s me. And I’ve been trying so hard to pretend nothing’s wrong, but having Kate back here doesn’t help. I know she doesn’t mean to, but she’s treating me just like Oliver does. I feel like one of those plate-spinners, rushing from plate to plate desperately trying to keep everything up in the air . All I want is for us to be a normal happy family, but it’s just not w-working and I don’t know what else I can possibly d-do ...’ Her voice breaking, Estelle covered her face with her hands and wailed, ‘Because no matter how hard I try, nothing I do do ever seems to be good enough!’

‘Hey, hey, don’t blame yourself.’ Will’s voice was wonderfully soothing. Whereas Oliver, if he were here now, would have barked, ‘Oh for God’s sake, don’t cry,’ Will simply passed her a handful of kitchen roll and allowed her to get on with it. ‘You mustn’t blame yourself, you know. I’m sure Oliver doesn’t mean to upset you. And Kate’s ... well, she’s having a hard time adjusting, that’s all. She’s going through a prickly stage.’

Bloody prickly, thought Estelle. And in all honesty, when something had lasted for fifteen years, did it still count as a stage? She could barely remember a time when she hadn’t felt intimidated by her daughter.

‘But what am I supposed to do?’ Blowing her nose on the kitchen roll, she watched resignedly as Will refilled her glass.

‘Ah, well now, that is up to you. Do you want to stay with Oliver, or leave him?’

Estelle’s bottom lip trembled. ‘Stay, of course. I still love him, I want us to be happy again, I just don’t know how to make it happen. I’m not even sure there’s anything I can do. Sometimes, as far as Oliver’s concerned, I just feel invisible.’

‘I can’t advise you,’ said Will, which was a massive letdown; she’d secretly been hoping he might have the most brilliant plan. ‘But if it’s any consolation,’ he leaned back on his chair and fixed Estelle with a smile that told her he was on her side, ‘you don’t deserve to be treated like that. If I were lucky enough to be married to someone like you, I’d be over the moon. Then again,’ he looked almost comically disconsolate, ‘who’d ever want to be saddled with a case as hopeless as me? My last girlfriend was always complaining that I looked as if I’d got dressed in the dark. She once found a mouldy sausage roll in my bathroom cabinet. And when we went to her Uncle Bill’s wedding I called the bride Megan, which was the name of Uncle Bill’s first wife.’

Despite everything, Estelle found herself snorting with laughter.

‘That’s terrible. And Megan, the first wife, was ... ?’

‘Dead.’ Will heaved a sigh of resignation and nodded. ‘I’m just a walking disaster. No wonder my girlfriend dumped me.’

‘Just because of that?’ Estelle felt absurdly indignant on his behalf. ‘But anyone can make a mistake!’

‘You’re forgetting the sausage roll. Actually, she compiled this whole list of reasons why she deserved better than me. Read them out to me like a school register.’ Will pulled a face. ‘It took ages. So you see, it’s no wonder I’m still single. But that’s enough about me. Are you feeling any better yet?’

He’d made her laugh, with his self-deprecating humour and gentle encouragement. God knows, he was the polar opposite of Oliver, who was hardly what you’d call encouraging and who’d never been self-deprecating in his life. Smiling back at Will, Estelle nodded and discovered there was a lot to be said for getting things off your chest. She’d never confided her feelings of inadequacy before, not to a living soul. Pretending that everything was fine had always been her way of muddling through.

‘Much better. You won’t say anything about this to Oliver, will you?’

‘I told you, you can trust me. I won’t breathe a word,’ Will said comfortably. As he fiddled with the damp cuff of his shirt, the button pinged off and he watched it roll across the floor. When it disappeared under the freezer he shrugged, unconcerned. ‘You could always give it a go yourself, though.

Sit him down and tell him how you feel.’

This really did make Estelle smile. ‘We’ll see.’ There was more chance of her swimming the Channel with bricks strapped to her feet. ‘Thanks anyway. I can’t believe I’ve told you all this.’

‘Ah well, that’s me, I have a listening face.’ Will tilted his head at the sound of the front door being pushed open. ‘And here’s Kate back now. I suppose I should be making a move.’

Estelle wished he didn’t have to go. As Norris noisily emptied his water bowl, Will lugged his battered weekend bag out to the car and said his goodbyes. Feeling as if she’d lost her only ally, Estelle waved as the dusty Volkswagen bumped off down the drive. Back in the kitchen beadily eyeing first her mother then the almost empty bottle of wine, Kate said, ‘What’s been going on?’

‘Nothing. Will helped me with the washing-up. He’s a nice man, don’t you think?’ Quite daringly for her, Estelle said, ‘So thoughtful.’

Kate’s gaze narrowed as she surveyed her mother’s pink-rimmed eyes. ‘Have you been crying?’

For a moment Estelle hesitated, wondering how Kate would react if she blurted out the truth, just as she’d done with Will. But no, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

‘Of course not.’ She smiled brightly at her daughter. ‘I just rubbed my eyes earlier when there was washing-up liquid on my hands. Silly me.’

‘Then again, who could blame you?’ Picking up the fruit-scented soaps, sniffing them and pulling a face, Kate said, ‘If someone gave me this lot as a thank you present, I’d cry too.’

Chapter 19

In the Peach Tree, Juliet was writing out price labels and Maddy was on the floor unpacking a fresh consignment of plum chutney when the door clanged open and Jake erupted into the shop.

‘Sorry,’ said Maddy, ‘no winos, no undesirables, we’re a classy establishment, we are—’

‘Do me a favour, just go and sit in my workshop. When a blonde in a red MG asks where I am, tell her I’m out delivering a casket. Move,’ said Jake, grabbing hold of Maddy like a rag doll and hauling her to her feet.

Ooch, pins and needles .. .

‘Say please.’

‘ Please.’

‘ And you’ll do dinner tonight,’ prompted Maddy, whose turn it was to cook.

‘OK, fine, just go.’

Laughing, Maddy sauntered out and across the hot dusty road. As Jake hovered at the back of the shop, Juliet peered through the window.

‘Who is it this time?’

‘Her name’s Emma. Luckily I was inside the workshop when she drove past, so she didn’t spot me. God knows what she’s doing here now. I thought she was in court today.’

Juliet’s dark eyes widened. ‘What did she do?’

‘She’s a stalker.’ Grinning, Jake said, ‘Actually, a solicitor.’

‘She’s pulling up now,’ Juliet reported as the scarlet MG, having completed its U-turn, slowed to a halt outside Jake’s workshop. ‘Honestly, Jake, you are hopeless. If you don’t want to see her, why don’t you just tell the poor girl? Put her out of her misery.’

‘I have told her! She won’t take no for an answer! We only went out a couple of times. I didn’t even sleep with her,’ Jake protested.

‘Really?’

‘I didn’t! And I told her it was over last week, really nicely.’

‘ Let me guess,’ said Juliet. ‘You’re a great girl, Emma, it’s not you, it’s me. All the usual tosh.’

‘Well, yes.’ Jake looked hurt. ‘What’s wrong with that? I can hardly say it’s not me, it’s you, can I? Anyway, I gave it my best shot, thought I’d done a good job. But she won’t accept it, she keeps phoning me, it’s really awkward, and she drove past the cottage last night.’

‘Maddy’s talking to her now,’ Juliet announced. ‘She’s pointing over here ... Crikey, Emma’s heading this way, she’s taking a knife out of her handbag.’

‘You’re not serious.’

‘Of course I’m not serious. Ha, had you going though, serves you right for being so irresistible.’ Clearly amused, Juliet moved away from the window. ‘It’s OK, Emma’s climbing back into her car. She’s driving off now. You’re safe. And who said you could have that?’ She eyed the apricot Danish Jake had filched from the glass cabinet.

‘Stress makes me hungry. God, why does life have to be so complicated?’ grumbled Jake.

‘That’s what happens when you’re a professional love rat.

Go around breaking girls’ hearts and you’ll get grief,’ Juliet said cheerfully. ‘That’s just the way it goes. Maybe it’s time you thought about meeting someone nice and settling down.’

Had she and Maddy been discussing him behind his back?

‘Pot, kettle.’ Swallowing a mouthful of Danish, Jake gave her a pointed look. ‘Anyway, speaking of girls getting their hearts broken, what’s Maddy playing at? Has she told you who she’s seeing?’ He made it sound as if he knew but was wondering if Juliet had been let in on the secret.

No,’ Juliet lied, perfectly well aware that Jake didn’t know and would certainly hit the roof if he did. ‘Just that he’s married. Here she comes now,’ she added. ‘And don’t nag her about it, OK?

Because nagging won’t help.’

Jake had already guessed that Juliet would be on Maddy’s side. Tiff’s father had been a married man. Beyond that, no details were known; he and Juliet may have been friends for years, but Juliet had remained resolutely silent on the subject. Privately, Jake wondered how anyone, married or otherwise, could have dumped Juliet.

‘All sorted.’ Maddy, looking pleased with herself, reentered the shop and sat back down cross-legged on the floor in front of her jars of plum chutney.

‘Well? What happened?’ said Jake.

‘I told her you’d been battling with your sexuality.’ Jake choked on his Danish pastry. ‘Excuse me?’

‘But that you’d reached a decision at last, and from now on you were only going to go out with people with hairy chests.’

‘You’re joking.’ Juliet’s eyes sparkled. ‘And she actually believed you?’

‘I’m not joking at all,’ said Maddy, ‘and no, of course she didn’t believe me, but it did the trick. She said, "Jake doesn’t want to see me any more, does he?" and I said, "Sorry, no he doesn’t." So she did that wobbly-lip thing and said, "I thought we had something special together," and I said, "Trust me, he’s not worth it, he’s not special at all."‘

‘Thanks,’ said Jake.

‘You’re welcome. So after that Emma said, "Tell him 1 won’t phone him again, I promise, but he’s got my number if he changes his mind." Then she climbed back into her car and drove off, still trying not to cry. So there you go,’ Maddy concluded cheerfully, ‘I’ve done your dirty work for you. I think we’ll have lasagne tonight.’

Jake, who knew when he was beaten, turned to Juliet. ‘Fancy bringing Tiff over? If I’m making lasagne, may as well make a big one.’

‘Great,’ said Juliet, because lasagne was Jake’s signature dish. ‘I’ll bring a bottle. What time, sevenish?’

‘Actually, can we eat earlier than that?’ Maddy did her best to sound casual. ‘I’m going out at seven.’

Opening his mouth to say something caustic, Jake caught Juliet’s look of warning and closed it again.

‘Fine. We’ll lock the kids in the attic and have a romantic candlelit evening together, just the two of us.’ Winking at Maddy, he said, ‘She won’t be able to resist me.’

‘Or,’ Juliet said prosaically, ‘we could play Scrabble.’

‘ Oof,’ Kate gasped as the small boy, barrelling round the corner of the pub, ran full tilt into her stomach.

Tiff, staggering backwards in the wake of the impact, gazed up in horror at Kate and wailed, ‘Oh no, my ice cream!’

The chocolate ice cream he’d been clutching had ricocheted out of his hand and landed with a soft phut on the pavement, the cornet sticking out like Pinocchio’s nose.

It served him right, of course, but that was boys for you. Kate found herself feeling quite sorry for him.

‘You shouldn’t have been running so fast,’ she said kindly, because tears were now welling up in the boy’s blue eyes. She didn’t see why she should have to buy him another one, it wasn’t her fault after all, but in all likelihood she probably would. ‘It’s OK, don’t cry — oh, look at Norris, he’s such a pig.’

Smiling nicely to cheer the boy up, she nodded at Norris, who was enthusiastically slurping away at the ice cream and chomping up the cone.

‘I-I’m sorry,’ the boy whispered, backing away from Kate in dismay.

She knew who he was. He belonged to Juliet Price, who ran the delicatessen. His name was Tiff, that was it, and he spent most of his time with Jake’s daughter Sophie. With his messy white-blond hair and startlingly bright eyes, he was actually rather sweet looking. Abruptly, it dawned on Kate that the cause of his terror could be the sight of her own scarred face. Hurriedly she dug into her back pocket for a couple of pound coins. Determined to show him she wasn’t as scary as she looked, she said encouragingly, ‘Here, don’t worry, I’ll get you an even better ice cream — aaarrghh!’

Belatedly glancing down, Kate discovered the real reason for the boy’s agitation. The front of her trousers was sporting a brown stain the size of a baked potato, com plete with splatter marks and drips all down one leg. She gazed at the mess in paralysed disbelief. This couldn’t have happened while she was wearing her usual jeans, could it? Oh no, of course not, because life didn’t work that way, did it? Instead, it had to happen on the one day she was wearing her brand new cream linen John Galliano trousers.

Kate’s head felt as if it might explode with the effort it took not to scream and hurl abuse.

‘Had a bit of an accident, have we?’ Dexter Nevin, emerging from the pub, eyed Kate’s trousers with ill-concealed amusement.

‘They’re Galliano.’ Kate spat the words through gritted teeth. ‘I bought them in Bloomingdale’s.’

‘Ah well.’ Dexter shrugged easily. ‘I’m more of a Next man myself.’

‘They cost a fortune.’

‘ I said s-sorry.’ Tiff turned fearfully to Dexter. ‘It was an accident, I promise.’

‘Oh, for crying out loud.’ Before he had a chance to burst into fully-fledged sobs, Kate shoved the pound coins into the boy’s hand. ‘Just be more careful next time, OK?’

‘I thought you were going to kick him,’ said Dexter when Tiff had disappeared in a cloud of dust.

‘Don’t think I wasn’t tempted.’ Kate grimaced. ‘But you’d only have called the NSPCC.’

‘If you come inside, I’ll lend you a cloth.’

‘Oh yes, that’ll do the trick.’ Kate sighed. ‘A nice greasy dishcloth, that’ll really work. OK, stop it, it’s all gone now,’ she told Norris, who was greedily Hoovering up the last remnants of ice cream with a slurp and a flourish.

‘You never know, we might be able to rustle up a clean dishcloth,’ Dexter said mildly. ‘You can bring him in with you, you know. We’re a dog-friendly pub.’

‘You don’t say. I didn’t think you were anything-friendly.’

He laughed at the truculent look on Kate’s face. ‘Animals are fine. It’s humans I have a problem with. So are you coming in or aren’t you?’

Kate hesitated for a moment, then shook her head.

‘I’ll get home. These’ll have to go to the dry cleaners in Bath.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ Dexter called after her as she headed towards Gypsy Lane.

Turning, Kate shielded her eyes from the sun and scowled. ‘What?’

‘ Sorry.’ Dexter was standing there with his hands on his narrow hips, smirking at her. ‘I thought I heard you say thanks.’

Chapter 20

At Dauncey House, Kate found her parents out in the garden around the pool. Estelle, wearing a black tankini that cruelly emphasised her bulging midriff, was valiantly attempting to read last year’s Booker prizewinner. Since Danielle Steel was more her line of country, this was an exercise doomed to failure, on a par with expecting a stroppy teenager to enjoy sheep’s eyeballs in aspic.

Looking up, only too glad to be distracted from her book, Estelle cried, ‘Oh, darling, whatever happened?’

‘They’re bloody ruined, that’s what happened.’ As Kate showed her mother the damage to her trousers, Oliver swung round and she realised he was on the phone.

‘Yes, yes, that’s Kate you just heard.’ He paused, then smiled at Kate and said, Will says hi.’

In no mood to exchange pointless pleasantries, Kate said, ‘It’s chocolate ice cream, it’s never going to come out and they’re my best trousers.’

‘Oh darling, you don’t know that, maybe we can soak them in Ariel,’ suggested Estelle. ‘How did it get there?’

‘That bloody kid from the deli ran straight into me. I could have strangled him.’

‘Tiff Price?’ said Estelle. ‘Juliet’s little lad? Oh, he’s a poppet, I’m sure he didn’t mean to do it.’

Oh well, that was all right then.

‘My trousers are ruined.’ Kate’s voice rose in exasperation. ‘They cost me six hundred dollars!’

‘Kate,’ Oliver chided, ‘you’re overreacting. He bumped into you, it was an accident. Dear me, anyone would think you’d been stabbed.’

Eyes narrowed, Kate watched her father return to his phone conversation, laughing off the incident as if it was nothing at all. She vividly recalled once, as a child, spilling Coca-Cola over some business documents and Oliver yelling furiously at her until she’d burst into tears. Yet here he was now, acting all ultra-reasonable and telling her not to make such a fuss, purely because Will was listening on the other end of the phone and Oliver was determined to create a good impression and demonstrate that he truly was an all-round great guy.

Nuala, snuggled up in bed, thought happily that, contrary to what other people might think, life with Dexter wasn’t all bad.

It was four o’clock on Friday afternoon and they’d been making the most of their precious free time in the nicest possible way. The pub had closed at two thirty and would reopen at six. Having reacquainted themselves with each other’s bodies, a little doze was now in order, then maybe

‘Nu, fancy a cup of tea?’

See? He was all right really. Smiling to herself, Nuala wriggled and said, ‘Mmm, lovely.’

‘Great. Make, me one while you’re at it.’

‘Oh, not fair.’ Nuala groaned, tugging the tartan cotton duvet more tightly around her and nudging Dexter’s legs with her feet. ‘I’m sleepy.’

Dexter nudged her in the ribs. ‘Me too. Come on, it’s your turn.’

This was true; he had brought her a cup of tea in bed this morning. OK, so it had been way too strong and he’d forgotten to put any sugar in, but it had, technically, been a cup of tea.

‘OK, we’ll just have a little sleep first,’ Nuala bargained, ‘then I’ll make it.’

Whisking the duvet off her and rolling her efficiently out of bed, Dexter said, ‘No, now.’

‘ You’re so mean.’ Grumbling, Nuala covered her nakedness with her oversized white towelling dressing gown.

‘I’m not, I’m just helping you use up a few more calories.’ Lying back against the pillows with his hands resting behind his head, he winked at her.

Nuala weakened; when Dexter was happy, she was happy. He might not be the most perfect specimen physically – his rumpled brown hair was starting to recede and he was developing a paunch –

but there was still that indefinable something about him that got to her every time. And let’s face it, if he were drop-dead gorgeous he would never have been interested in her in the first place.

As she reached the door, Nuala warned, ‘Don’t fall asleep before I get back.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ Dexter turned onto his side. ‘Zzzzz ...’

The dressing gown, miles too big for her, had been appropriated from a hotel by Dexter during a precious weekend away together last year. When he’d presented it to her, she’d been guiltily delighted.

A week later, the hotel had written to Dexter billing him for the stolen dressing gown. Laughing, he’d chucked the letter in the bin. Nuala, mortified, had fished it out and secretly settled the account herself.

The really annoying thing was that if she’d known she’d be paying seventy quid for a dressing gown, she would have at least bought one that was the right size.

Anyway, tea, thought Nuala as she made her way downstairs, and maybe a spot of pâté on toast then, who knows, perhaps they might even go for a repeat- Aaarrgh.

Oh God .. .

‘Ow!’ screamed Nuala, crashing down the stairs like a skittle. ‘Ow, ow, ouch.’

Twenty seconds later Dexter appeared at the top of the staircase.

‘What’s all the racket? Bloody hell, Nu, what are you doing on the floor?’

‘Fell down.’ Nuala managed to get the words out through teeth gritted with pain. ‘Tripped over the hem of my dressing gown. Oh fuck, it hurts. Dexter, it really hurts!’

Naked, he made his way down the stairs and helped Nuala into a sitting position. Supporting her with his strong arms, he studied her face.

‘Bit of a shiner there. Teeth feel OK?’

Tentatively checking with her tongue, Nuala nodded.

‘Well, that’s good. You’re going to look like a boxer with that eye. And you’ve got a bump on your forehead, but no blood. You’ll live,’ he reassured her.

‘My shoulder ...’ Nuala gasped, feeling sick with the pain, and Dexter gently pulled back the lapel of the dressing gown.

‘Looks like you’ve broken your collarbone. How’s the rest of you? Back? Legs?’

Bracing herself, Nuala moved her legs, then her spine. ‘They’re OK.’

‘Right, just stay here, don’t try to move.’

For a terrifying moment Nuala thought he was heading back to bed. As he rose to his feet she whimpered, ‘Where are you going?’

‘To get some clothes on, you idiot. I’m taking you to casualty.’

By the time Nuala emerged from her hospital cubicle with her left shoulder securely strapped and her arm in a sling, it was seven in the evening.

Maddy, waiting in reception, rushed to meet her. ‘You look terrible!’

‘Thanks.’ Nuala had already seen her face in the bathroom mirror; her eye had blackened dramatically over the course of the last three hours. ‘Are you giving me a lift home?’

‘No, I thought I’d make you hitch a lift. Of course I’m giving you a lift home.’ Maddy’s expression softened as she held the door open to let Nuala through. ‘You poor thing, does it really hurt?’

‘They gave me some pills. Thanks for coming to pick me up. God, I’m such a twit.’ Nuala’s smile was self-deprecating as they made their way towards the car park. ‘And now look at me. Clumsy or what?’

‘Hmm,’ said Maddy.

What was ‘hmm’ supposed to mean? Trying to laugh, Nuala said, ‘Did Dexter tell you how it happened?’ Having spent the first hour with her in the waiting room, Dexter had been forced to leave her there and drive back to Ashcombe in order to open the pub at six. He’d promised to find someone to come and pick her up and Nuala had been glad he’d managed to get Maddy. Dexter was just as likely to have sent along one of his cider-guzzling regulars on a tractor.

‘He said you’d tripped on your dressing gown and fallen down the stairs,’ said Maddy. She stopped, regarding Nuala gravely. ‘Is that true?’

‘Why wouldn’t it be true?’ Mystified, Nuala said, ‘My dressing gown’s too big for me. I got the hem caught under my foot and went flying. Poor Dexter, gave him the shock of his life! Oh, but he was so sweet, looking after me and carrying me to the car. He even had to put my knickers on for me because I couldn’t reach past my—’

‘Nuala, listen. This is me. We’re friends, aren’t we? You can tell me.’ Maddy gave her a meaningful look.

‘Tell you what?’

‘ Look at yourself. Black eye, bruised forehead, cracked collarbone. Come on now,’ said Maddy, her tone supportive.

Realisation finally dawned. Nuala’s eyebrows shot up as if she’d been electrocuted.

‘My God, I don’t believe it, you think Dexter did this to me! You actually think he gave me a black eye and chucked me down the stairs!’

‘Didn’t he?’ said Maddy.

‘Of course he didn’t!’ Her voice rising in disbelief, Nuala tried to stamp her foot and flinched as the sudden movement jarred her shoulder. ‘I can’t believe it even crossed your mind. Dexter’s never laid a finger on me, he’d never hurt me!’ Shaking her head – ooch, more pain – she said, ‘And you have to believe me, because I swear to God that’s the truth. You can strap me to one of those lie detectors if you want—’

‘OK, OK.’ Maddy nodded, to show she believed her. ‘I’m sorry. I just had to ask.’

They’d reached the car. Carefully, Nuala climbed into the passenger seat.

‘But why? Why would you even think that?’ Even as the words came out, deep down Nuala already knew the answer. Oh Lord, did this mean everyone in Ashcombe was going to think Dexter had beaten her up?

‘Well, you and Dexter ... the way he is ... I mean, you just said he’d never hurt you.’ Maddy could be horribly blunt when she wanted. ‘But he does sometimes, doesn’t he? Maybe not physically, but verbally. When he calls you a lazy lump or a fat-arsed camel. You can’t tell me you enjoy it.’

Her cheeks flaming, Nuala said defensively, ‘He does it to everyone, that’s just Dexter’s way.

When we’re on our own he’s lovely to me—’

‘Wrong. No.’ Maddy was shaking her head. ‘He doesn’t do it to everyone. He’s brusque, he’s sarcastic, he can be downright cantankerous, but he doesn’t verbally abuse the rest of us. Only you, because he knows he can get away with it. And a man who treats you like that in public – well, you can’t blame us for wondering what else he might do when the two of you are on your own.’

Nuala gazed blindly out of the side window, hot with shame. Everyone was going to assume she was a battered girlfriend. With a shudder, she imagined the regulars in the pub eyeing each other meaningfully, muttering behind their hands, watching her and Dexter and drawing their own wrong conclusions every time he came out with one of his mock derogatory remarks.

‘I’ll talk to him about it,’ she said. ‘Tell him he has to stop, you know, saying those things.’

Maddy drove out of the car park. ‘Right, you do that.’ She sounded horribly unconvinced.

‘I will. Don’t give me one of your looks,’ Nuala protested. ‘God, I’m not going to be able to work for weeks.’ She plucked gingerly at her sling. ‘How’s Dexter going to manage without me in the pub?’

‘Grumpily, I’d imagine.’ Swinging round a corner, Maddy said, ‘He’s already asked me if I’ll help out tonight.’

‘Really? And are you?’

‘No chance. I’ve already made plans.’

‘Great.’ Mischievously Nuala said, ‘Can I come along with you?’

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Maddy’s mouth. ‘How can I put this? Not a chance in the world.’

Chapter 21

‘Come on, you stupid animal.’ Kate tugged at Norris’s lead as he dawdled along like a recalcitrant toddler. It was Saturday afternoon, the temperature had shot up into the nineties and she was beginning to regret this attempt at a longer than usual walk.

Since embarking on a keep-fit plan for Norris, they had done their best to restrict his eating, but last night he had wolfed down an entire Dundee cake that had been carelessly left out in the kitchen by Estelle. Today, in an effort to work off a few of the ten thousand or so calories he had guzzled in ninety seconds flat, Kate had changed into jeans and trainers and resolved to bring him out on the equivalent of a doggie marathon. Leaving the village behind them, they had set out along Ashcombe Lane, the hilly, winding road that would eventually take them into Bath. Not that they’d get that far, but at least the scenery was spectacular and it made a change from endlessly circling Ashcombe itself.

Feeling like an American sergeant major harassing the latest unfit arrival at boot camp, Kate chivvied Norris past a promising clump of creamy white cow parsley – he could spend forever searching for the perfect place to pee – and dragged him on up the hill. Huffing and grunting in protest, Norris waddled more slowly than ever. Honestly, at this rate ants would be overtaking them.

‘Not much further,’ said Kate, pushing her hair back from her face as they reached the brow of the hill and the wall of trees ahead of them came into sight. ‘Norris, you really are hopeless, it hasn’t even been two miles yet.’

By the time they reached the entrance to Hillview, Norris had had more than enough. When Kate stopped walking he sank down onto the grass verge with a grunt of relief. The road was deserted in both directions. The sun blazed relentlessly down. Norris’s tongue, attractively, was lolling sideways out of his mouth.

‘Two miles,’ Kate told him. ‘Well done, you. One day you’ll have more muscles than Schwarzenegger.’

Then, turning, she gazed once more at the battered sign, half hidden by ivy. She hadn’t deliberately planned this, not really deliberately. If Norris had been skipping along like a spring chicken, more than happy to set off back home, then that’s what they would have done. But seeing as he was on his last legs and clearly desperate for a drink, well, it would be cruel to deprive him. And where was the harm, anyway, in knocking on Pauline McKinnon’s front door to ask for a bowl of water? The advantage of calling on someone who was a recluse was that they were bound to be home. She could talk to Mrs McKinnon, casually ask her how Kerr was doing these days, maybe hear some news about him.

And if the woman was so reclusive she refused to answer the door, Kate remembered there had been a decorative stone water trough and a small pond to the side of the house, years ago. Since they were unlikely to have been removed, Norris could still have a drink.

Norris groaned when she attempted to pull him to his feet. Bending over, Kate hauled him up into her arms — God, he weighed a ton, it was like carrying the world’s fattest baby — and headed up the bumpy, weed-strewn driveway.

Her heart leaped into her mouth as she rounded the last bend and saw the car parked on the gravel. A gleaming midnight-blue Mercedes — surely this was the one that had passed her that day on Gypsy Lane. Oh good grief, Kerr must actually be here now, in the house, visiting his mother .. .

With adrenalin swooshing through her body — whether it was due to terror or excitement she couldn’t tell — Kate clumsily shifted her hold on Norris, freeing one of her hands just enough to be able to comb her fingers frantically through her hair and rub the beads of perspiration from her upper lip. She really hadn’t been expecting this, but was it such a bad thing to have happened? Maybe it was fate bringing them together today, maybe they were meant to meet again and when Kerr saw her he wouldn’t even notice her scars .. .

OK, so maybe that was a fantasy too far, not even Stevie Wonder could fail to notice these scars, but Kerr would see them and instantly, magically, dismiss them because she was all that mattered, her personality was what was important and he didn’t give a toss about physical imperfections.

Shit, shit, shit. Kate ground to an abrupt halt. Having ventured another twenty yards up the drive she was now able to see a second car parked behind Kerr’s Mercedes. A silver Saab.

A silver Saab, silver Saab — the wheels were clicking in Kate’s brain. She’d seen it before, parked in the Main Street outside — God, outside Jake Harvey’s workshop. But this made no sense. Why would it be parked here now? Either Pauline McKinnon had just died and Jake was measuring her up for one of his bespoke coffins or Jake and Kerr were gay, conducting a furtive homosexual affair.

Creeping up the driveway, taking care not to crunch the gravel, Kate lowered her face to Norris’s fat neck and shushed him before he could even think of betraying her with a bark.

Approaching the house, she veered away from the front door and headed over to the long sash windows of the sitting room. Her pulse was thundering now, crashing against her ribs. If the silver Saab belonged to Jake, what on earth could he be doing here?

Breathing shallowly, Kate reached the sitting-room window at last. Clutching Norris tightly in her arms, she half knelt, half crouched in the untended flowerbed and peered inside.

What she saw made her cry out in disbelief.

The sitting room was empty but the house was narrow, longer than it was broad, with a clear view, via the two sets of windows at the front and back of the house, through to the back garden.

And there was Kerr, not with Jake Harvey at all, but with Maddy.

With with Maddy, that much was self-evident. Feeling as though she’d been punched in the stomach, Kate realised that what she was seeing here was a couple who were, without question, a couple.

Maddy was wearing a pink bikini. She lay on her front on a green and blue striped rug, smiling at something Kerr said as he massaged suncream into her back. Suddenly twisting round and seizing the bottle of Evian at her side, she squirted water at Kerr. He in turn grabbed her, pinning her down and tickling her until she shrieked for mercy. Still rooted to the spot, Kate watched him kiss Maddy, and Maddy’s arms winding round his neck. Kerr, wearing only dark glasses and a pair of white shorts, was as tanned and athletically constructed as she remembered. His hands were roaming over Maddy’s back .. . God, it was almost impossible to take in, Kerr McKinnon and Maddy Harvey, cavorting together in the garden.

More to the point, where was Pauline McKinnon while all this was going on?

Stunned, but realising that she could hardly stroll round to the back of the house and ask them, Kate slipped away from the window and headed back down the driveway. Norris weighed a ton but she didn’t dare put him down. Spotting the lily-strewn pond, he began to whimper pathetically, but Kate ignored him. Maddy and Kerr. It was unbelievable; surely Marcella couldn’t know about this.

Feeling hotter and wearier than ever, Kate reached the bottom of the drive and unceremoniously plonked Norris down on all fours. Norris promptly lay down in the road and closed his eyes, tongue lolling and baggy jowls drooping in defeat.

So much for being offered a lift home by Kerr McKinnon. With a sigh, Kate pulled out her mobile and called a taxi company to come and pick them up.

At nine thirty on Sunday morning, Dexter Nevin was outside the Fallen Angel watering his hanging baskets when he heard footsteps coming down the road. Swivelling round on his ladder, he saw the answer to his prayers heading along the Main Street towards him.

Well, let’s face it, he was desperate.

‘Morning.’ Dexter’s mouth twitched at the look of disdain Kate shot him. Her face might be less than perfect but she had an enviable figure, he’d say that much for her; in low-slung khaki cargo pants and a tiny white cropped top, she moved like a catwalk model. Lithe, that was the word he was after.

Maybe even slinky. Shame about the stroppy manner, but beggars couldn’t afford to be choosers.

‘Morning.’ Kate’s reply was cool.

She was on her way to the shop, Dexter guessed, to pick up the Sunday papers.

‘You know, I could do you a favour.’

That stopped her in her tracks.

‘Sorry?’ said Kate suspiciously.

‘Well, we could do each other a favour.’ Dexter climbed down from the stepladder and began gathering up the coils of garden hose. ‘Nuala’s off work for a while – the clumsy article fell downstairs and cracked her collarbone. So,’ he paused and surveyed Kate speculatively, ‘how about you taking her place?’

‘As a barmaid, you mean?’

‘Of course as a barmaid. I wasn’t actually suggesting you hop into my bed.’ Dexter did his best to keep a straight face. ‘Then again, it’s entirely up to you, if that’s one of your conditions—’

‘Let me get this straight,’ Kate interrupted. ‘You want me to come and work for you, behind your bar, because your regular barmaid has a fractured collarbone. So, I’m sorry, but how exactly would you be doing me a favour?’

‘You’re bored to tears,’ Dexter said bluntly, ‘rattling around in that big old house up the hill. You spend all your time walking that fat dog of yours because you don’t have anything else to do. I’m telling you, it’s no life for a girl your age. A bit of socialising, that’s what you need. Trust me, it’d work wonders. Because moping around feeling sorry for yourself isn’t doing you any good at all.’

‘Blimey, you must be desperate,’ said Kate.

‘Of course I’m desperate.’ Dexter broke into an unrepentant grin. ‘I’ve asked practically everyone else in the village and they’ve all turned me down.’

Kate widened her eyes. ‘No. How could they? You’d think they’d be clamouring to work for someone with such a sparkling personality.’

‘Ever done bar work before?’

‘No, and I have no plans to start now.’ Bar work, ugh; Kate suppressed a shudder of revulsion.

‘Don’t you look down your nose at me,’ Dexter retaliated. ‘You’re not tall enough, for a start.’

Indignantly Kate took a step back as he advanced towards her.

‘Miss Hoity Toity,’ Dexter murmured, softening the insult with a faint smile. ‘You think it’d be so far beneath you, don’t you? It hasn’t even occurred to you that this could be the answer to all your prayers.’

Oh for heaven’s sake, was the man on drugs? Frostily Kate said, ‘I promise you, it wouldn’t.’

‘Trust me,’ said Dexter. ‘Just give it a try. Today, twelve ‘til four. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it again. But I still think you might be pleasantly surprised.’

Kate hesitated. One half of her couldn’t believe she was even considering his offer. Then again, what if Dexter was right? And she was bored to tears, with nothing to do all day long other than drag Norris out on walks he passionately didn’t want to take.

‘What about my face?’ Blurting out the question, she forced herself to meet Dexter’s gaze. ‘Aren’t you scared I’ll frighten away the customers?’

By way of reply, he stuck his fingers in the corners of his mouth and gave an ear-splitting whistle.

Moments later the bedroom window above him was thrown open and Nuala, clearly used to being summoned like a dog, popped her head out.

‘Now you see why I asked you.’ Dexter casually indicated Nuala’s spectacular black eye and dramatically bruised forehead. ‘See? Compared with that, you’re Nicole Kidman.’

‘Flattery will get you everywhere,’ said Kate.

‘Ooh, are you going to be our new barmaid?’ Hanging precariously out of the window, surrounded by a picturesque tangle of wisteria, Nuala looked delighted.

‘She hasn’t said yes yet,’ Dexter announced. ‘I’m still working my mysterious magic on her.’ And he surveyed Kate with an expression of such infuriating self-confidence that for a moment she was tempted to slap him, hard.

Instead, a vision of the rest of her day intervened, hours and hours of boredom stretching endlessly ahead, and Kate found herself saying, ‘OK, just this once. I’ll give it a go.’

‘There you are.’ Dexter nodded with satisfaction. ‘Wasn’t so hard, was it?’

Against her better judgement, Kate found herself smiling. Shaking her head in disbelief, she murmured, ‘Mysterious magic indeed.’

‘Didn’t think I had any, did you? You see, that’s what makes it so mysterious.’ As he wound up the last of the garden hose, Dexter winked at her. ‘Works every time.’

Chapter 22

Sunday lunchtimes were one of the busiest sessions of the week at the Angel. A child-friendly pub selling excellent food, it attracted customers from miles around. Following a crash course in pouring pints and fathoming out the till, Kate was so rushed off her feet she barely had time to be selfconscious about her face. Occasionally, glancing up, she caught customers she didn’t know gazing at her with a mixture of pity and horror, but the regulars had grown used to her, had seen her walking Norris around Ashcombe often enough by now for the novelty of her scars to have worn off.

Much to her amazement, Kate was enjoying herself. The pointy lace-edged sleeves of her white shirt were wrecked from dangling in the drip trays, but she’d wear something more sensible next time. On the plus side, everyone was so cheerful – apart from Dexter of course – and friendly. But even working behind the narrow bar with someone as professionally grumpy as Dexter Nevin somehow managed to be fun. Every time he berated a hapless customer, Kate promptly berated him in return. She flatly refused to take any nonsense. In no time at all they were like a long-established double act, and the more they bickered the more the customers enjoyed it.

‘You’ve got the knack,’ said Nuala, lost in admiration. Perched on a leather upholstered bar stool with one arm in a sling and the other clutching a half of lager, she was discreetly advising Kate whenever advice was required. ‘Stop, not Pepsi Cola.’ She lowered her voice as Kate reached for a bottle. ‘When someone asks for whisky and pep, they mean peppermint. The cordial bottle next to the lime.’

‘That’s disgusting. Whisky and peppermint?’ Kate made a face. ‘That shouldn’t be allowed.’

‘Shift your fat bottom, let me squeeze past,’ bellowed Dexter, carrying four brimming pints of Blackthorn.

Using the steel tongs, Kate picked a cluster of ice cubes out of the ice bucket and deftly dropped them down the front of Dexter’s denim shirt. His whole body stiffened, his eyes widened, but like the pro he was, he didn’t spill a drop of cider.

‘I do not have a fat bottom,’ Kate said clearly, ‘and I don’t appreciate being spoken to like that. So just stop it, OK?’

After a brief stunned silence, a cheer went up around the bar. Unable to resist it, Kate curtsied to the applauding regulars.

‘Oh God,’ Dexter gave a snort of disgust, ‘don’t encourage her. She’ll be unbearable.’

‘If you want to keep your staff,’ said Kate, ‘try treating them with a bit of respect.’

‘If you want to keep your job,’ Dexter rejoined, ‘you’ll get this ice out of my shirt.’

‘I think you’re forgetting who needs who here.’ Blithely, Kate busied herself with the next order.

‘Come here.’ Standing up on her barstool and leaning across the bar, Nuala lovingly unfastened the bottom button on Dexter’s shirt with her good hand and shook out the lumps of ice. ‘See? There are still some things I can do.’

Having assumed that no one else in Ashcombe would be aware of Maddy’s affair with Kerr McKinnon, Kate beganto think she’d got it wrong. Maddy herself had only popped into the pub briefly at one o’clock to return a video she’d borrowed from Nuala. Feeling like a spy in possession of classified information, Kate had stayed in the background stacking the dishwasher while Maddy and Nuala chatted at the bar. Maddy, looking sunkissed and golden in a pale yellow halter-neck top and black Capri pants, had glanced at Kate then turned away again without saying anything. Before long, jangling silver bracelets and wafting perfume as she waved goodbye, she was off again, her departure provoking a round of good-natured joking amongst the locals. A couple of them pressed Nuala for details but she just shrugged, professing her total innocence. The locals then turned their attention to Jake, who had sauntered in from the pub garden to fetch a lemonade and a packet of crisps for Sophie.

‘Come on, Jake, tell us what that sister of yours is up to,’ complained Alfie Archer from Archer’s farm. ‘Pops in for two minutes, then we don’t see her for dust. Can’t tell us there isn’t something suspicious going on. Who’s the latest lucky chap?’

‘Sorry, Alfie, my lips are sealed. Not allowed to talk about it.’ Gravely Jake shook his head.

‘Marcella’s orders. Let’s just say she’s not thrilled about Maddy’s choice in men.’

Hmm, thought Kate. Interesting.

When Dexter called time at four o’clock, Kate realised that despite the sopping wet lacy sleeves and aching feet, she had in fact thoroughly enjoyed herself. She almost laughed out loud when Dexter pressed a twenty-pound note into her hand – she bought lipsticks that cost more than that. Were there really people in this country who survived on wages of five pounds an hour?

‘You’re not bad,’ said Dexter, which Kate realised was his way of telling her that, in barmaiding terms, she was phenomenal. ‘How about tonight?’

As Kate piled up the washed and dried ashtrays, she caught sight of Jake and his daughter making their way back through the pub. ‘Fine,’ she said absently, her heart leaping with foolish anticipation. Along with most of the pub regulars, Jake and Sophie were heading over to the cricket pitch to watch the match being played out between Ashcombe’s first (and only) eleven and the team from neighbouring Monkton Combe. Not wanting to go home, Kate was counting on Jake to invite her along, not because she fancied him or anything, purely because it was the kind of sociable, easygoing offer he would make. Plus, of course, it would be interesting to hear more about his views on Maddy’s liaison with Kerr.

‘Seven o’clock we open,’ said Dexter.

‘Soph,’ Jake called over his shoulder, ‘come along.’

‘I’m off then. See you back here at seven.’ Hastily squeezing past Dexter, Kate just managed to reach the front door at the same time as Jake, Sophie and Bean.

‘Hi. Was that fun?’ Jake greeted her with that devastating surfer’s smile of his and Kate’s stomach promptly disappeared.

‘Not so bad. I’m working again tonight.’ She prayed she didn’t sound as hopelessly out of practice as she felt. ‘Um .. . going up to the cricket?’

‘That’s the plan. Soph, stay on the pavement,’ Jake instructed as Sophie and the little dog raced ahead, ‘and don’t let Bean off the lead. That animal’s a nightmare with cricket balls,’ he told Kate. ‘It’s her life’s ambition to disembowel one.’

Rather awkwardly, they were by this time outside the pub and Jake still hadn’t invited her to join them. Out of sheer desperation, Kate heard herself saying hurriedly, ‘Plenty of interest in Maddy’s new chap then, by the sound of things.’

Jake raised an eyebrow, then shrugged.

‘You said your mum wasn’t thrilled,’ Kate persisted, pulling a face. ‘I’d have called that the understatement of the year.’

‘Marcella’s been talking about it, has she? Well, I suppose she was bound to tell Estelle. Of course, she doesn’t approve,’ said Jake, ‘that goes without saying. But Maddy’s over eighteen. You can’t stop her doing what she wants, even if you know she’s making a big mistake.’

They were starting to move now, heading down Main Street towards the war memorial, from where she could either turn left up Gypsy Lane or carry on round to the right with Jake.

‘I have to say, I’m impressed,’ Kate went on, to keep the momentum going. ‘Last week, all I did was mention his name and Marcella went completely ballistic. I thought her head was going to explode. Of course, maybe she’s had time to get used to the idea now.’

Next to her Jake slowed, gave her an odd sideways look. Casually he said, ‘What did you say to Marcella?’

‘Just that I thought I’d seen him driving past our house. It was completely innocent,’ -Kate insisted. ‘I had no idea that anything was going on between him and Maddy, I only wondered where he was living because I suppose I’d assumed he was still in London. Anyway, as soon as I mentioned Kerr’s name, Marcella went bananas.’

‘ Kerr?’ Jake stopped dead in his tracks. He swung round, his green eyes boring into hers. ‘Kerr McKinnon?’

Confused, Kate stammered, ‘W-well, yes, but you already knew that. Oh God.’ She felt the blood drain from her face in horror. ‘You didn’t know? But all that stuff about Marcella not being thrilled—’

‘All Marcella knows is that Maddy’s seeing a married man,’ Jake said soberly. ‘That’s what she isn’t thrilled about. If she found out it was Kerr McKinnon – well, heads would definitely explode.

How do you know about this anyway?’ He gave her a sharp look. ‘Who told you?’

Rather wishing she hadn’t raised the subject now, but at the same time experiencing a tiny flicker of schadenfreude, Kate said, ‘I saw them together.’ Then, because nobody liked a peeping Tom, she added hastily, ‘In his car.’

‘But they were definitely together?’

‘Oh yes. Absolutely.’ The image of Maddy and Kerr cavorting semi-naked on the lawn was indelibly imprinted on her mind.

‘Right.’ Jake’s expression was grim.

Clearly he was intending to confront Maddy, and not in a supportive brotherly way. Beginning to envisage the repercussions, Kate said, ‘Look, don’t involve me in this. I’m not exactly Maddy’s favourite person as it is.’

‘Right now, she isn’t my favourite person either,’ said Jake.

I’m serious.’ Kate clutched his arm. ‘I’ve just started working at the pub, this is important to me. Don’t tell Maddy it was me who told you,’ she begged Jake. ‘Promise.’

He looked at her, then nodded. ‘OK, I promise. You did a good job in the pub today, by the way.’

‘Thanks, I—’

‘Sophie, get down from there,’ Jake yelled, spotting his daughter making her wobbly way along the top of the bridge over the River Ash. ‘If you fall in I’m not rescuing you. Look, I’ll see you around,’ he told Kate distractedly, setting off up Ashcombe Road and leaving her standing by the memorial.

‘Yes, fine. Bye.’ Attempting to sound casual but actually feeling bereft and abandoned, Kate watched him go. Oh well, cricket was boring anyway.

She just hoped Jake wouldn’t forget his promise.

Chapter 23

As she pushed open the front door of Snow Cottage at ten o’clock that evening, Maddy realised that she’d at last discovered the true meaning of the expression dancing on air. She actually knew how it felt, and it was as addictive as any drug. Once you’d danced on air, how could you ever be satisfied with trudging on boring old ground again?

‘Good time?’ Jake glanced up from his computer screen.

‘Not so bad.’ Maddy beamed, flinging her car keys onto the dresser and suppressing the urge to do a little jig to show him just how deliriously happy she was. A little jig several inches above floor level, needless to say. David Blaine, watch out.

Stretching and leaning back on his chair, Jake raked his fingers through his dishevelled blond hair.

‘His wife’s been here.’

‘What?’ Halfway to the kitchen to put the kettle on, Maddy turned. ‘Whose wife?’

‘Your man’s. Remember?’ Jake prompted. ‘The married one you’ve been seeing? Big mistake.’

He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘Really. It’s always bad news when the wife finds out.’

Maddy was beginning to wonder if she’d stepped into a parallel universe. This was like falling asleep during one film on TV and waking up in the middle of another. Bemused, she said, ‘What did she look like?’

‘Funny, I’d have thought you’d’ve been a bit more shocked,’ Jake said idly. ‘Horrified, even. Almost as if you can’t believe what you’re hearing because you know for a fact that this chap of yours doesn’t have a wife.’

‘OK, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m off to bed.’ Something dodgy was going on here; loftily refusing to join in, Maddy did an about-turn and headed for the stairs.

‘Oh no you don’t.’ Jake’s hand shot out, his fingers curling round her wrist as she attempted to slip past him. ‘And keep your voice down, because Sophie’s asleep.’

‘I’m not shouting.’

‘We haven’t started yet.’

Maddy went hot and cold all over. Surely he couldn’t know. They’d been so careful. But what other explanation could there be for the look in Jake’s eyes? And why was she even bothering to wonder, when she was clearly about to find out?

‘Go on then, let’s get it over with.’ Defiantly she wrenched her wrist free and turned to face him.

‘Kerr McKinnon,’ said Jake coldly. ‘Are you out of your mind?’

Oh God.

‘Who told you?’ Maddy demanded.

‘Never mind that.’

‘ Who?’

‘ I’m not telling you.’ Firmly, Jake shook his head. ‘I gave my word I wouldn’t and don’t change the subject. Have you considered Marcella for one moment? Can you even comprehend what this would do to her?’

‘She isn’t going to find out,’ said Maddy, feeling sick. ‘Because you aren’t going to tell her.’

‘I found out, though, didn’t I? I bloody wish I hadn’t, but I did. Because secrets don’t stay secrets around here.’ Jake took a gulp of cold coffee and grimaced. ‘You’re going to have to finish with him.

You know that, don’t you?’

In the space of five minutes, Maddy discovered, one of the most idyllic days of her life was turning into one of the very worst. And she knew who she had to thank for it too. Nuala, unable to work, had spent the afternoon in the Angel knocking back drink after drink. From there she had headed on down to watch the cricket. Keen to get the lowdown on Maddy’s married man, Jake had paid her a bit of flirtatious attention and in turn Nuala, her tongue by this time thoroughly loosened, would have tipsily confided in him. It was all so obvious, so predictable. Nuala had always been a blabbermouth.

‘Where are you going?’ demanded Jake.

In the split second before the front door slammed, Maddy shouted, ‘To sort something out.’

Nuala was upstairs in the living room wrestling with her long-sleeved T-shirt when she heard footsteps on the landing. With her top pulled half inside out over her head and her bra on show, all she could do was call out in a high-pitched voice, ‘Who’s that?’ and pray it wasn’t an after-hours gas man come to read the meter.

‘Me.’

Maddy. Well, that was good news. ‘Perfect timing,’ Nuala said happily. ‘I’m completely stuck. Can you give me a hand getting this off? Oh, and I can’t undo my bra either.’

‘How could you?’

Blindly, Nuala turned in the direction of Maddy’s voice. ‘What are you on about? I can’t, can I?

That’s why I’m asking you to do it for me.’

But the expected help didn’t materialise. Instead she heard Maddy say coldly, ‘You just couldn’t keep quiet, could you? I asked you not to tell anyone but you couldn’t resist it.’

Trapped within the confines of her T-shirt, Nuala’s face burned with indignation. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I really thought I could trust you,’ Maddy retaliated furiously, ‘which just goes to show how stupid I am. You told Jake about Kerr and now, thanks to you, everything’s ruined.’

‘ I didn’t! I didn’t tell Jake! Oh, for God’s sake.’ With her good arm, Nuala managed at last to wrench the T-shirt back down over her head. Did he tell you I did?’

‘You and Juliet are the only ones who know. Juliet would never breathe a word.’

This was true; Juliet made sphinxes look garrulous. Appalled, Nuala recalled lying on the grass all but ignoring the cricket, far more interested in chatting away to Jake. Let’s face it, she’d had a fair few drinks this afternoon — oh God, had she somehow managed to give the game away without even realising it?

‘I-I’m sure I didn’t,’ Nuala faltered, but it was too late; Maddy had seen the worried look in her eyes.

‘You mean you didn’t do it on purpose, it just slipped out,’ she hissed. ‘Well, thanks a lot, I won’t forget this in a hurry. I won’t be telling you anything in future that I don’t want broadcast all over town.

In fact, I probably won’t be telling you anything at all.’

Kate was serving large gins to a tweedy weekend couple when Maddy stomped back out through the bar without so much as a glance in her direction. Ten minutes later, as she was fetching fresh supplies of peanuts from the storeroom, she heard a voice plaintively calling her name from halfway up the stairs.

‘What is it?’ Popping her head round the corner, Kate saw Nuala looking pale and subdued.

‘Um, sorry, is Dexter busy?’

‘He’s shouting at the washer-upper. Want me to fetch him for you?’

‘Oh crikey, no, it’s not urgent. I just, well, I can’t get out of my T-shirt.’

Plonking the cards of dry- and honey-roasted peanuts back down on the shelf, Kate checked over her shoulder that no one was waiting to be served.

‘Here, I’ll give you a hand.’ As she reached the top of the stairs, she saw that Nuala had been crying. ‘Hey, are you OK?’

‘Fine.’ Nuala nodded falteringly, then shook her head as she reached the sanctuary of the living room.

‘Sorry, it just seems so pathetic, not being able to take off your own clothes. All I want to do is go to bed

— oh bugger, and now I need another tissue ..

Grabbing the box of Kleenex on the coffee table, Kate freed one just in time for Nuala to catch the tears dripping from her reddened nose.

‘Come on, what’s really wrong?’

‘Oh God, this is going to sound so stupid,’ Nuala blurted out, ‘and I know you and Maddy don’t get on, but she’s my best friend. The thing is, she told me something in confidence the other day and now she’s mad with me because she thinks I told someone else.’

Kate felt sick. So that was why Maddy had come storming over here.

‘And ... did you?’

Standing patiently, like a child being undressed by its mother, Nuala waited for Kate to free first her good arm, then her head, before carefully unrolling the T-shirt down over her immobile shoulder. Finally she shook her head.

‘I can’t remember doing it. I wouldn’t hurt Maddy for the world, but there’s no other way it could have got out. It must have been me. I keep racking my brains,’ Nuala went on in desperation, ‘but I honestly can’t remember it. God, it’s like having that thingy disease, you know, that whatjacallit ...’

‘Alzheimer’ s.’

‘You see? You see?’ Nuala wailed. ‘That could be what’s wrong with me! Either that or I’m going completely mad.’ This was the moment to come out and say it, to set the record straight and put poor Nuala out of her abject misery.

This was the moment .. .

OK, one, two, three, here it comes, here it comes .. .

‘I’m sure you didn’t do it,’ said Kate, realising that these weren’t quite the words she’d had in mind. Deeply ashamed of her lack of moral fibre but not ashamed enough to blurt out the truth, she went on, ‘It’ll be OK. Now, d’you need a hand with this bra?’

Nodding, Nuala turned her back. Kate unclipped the bra and helped Nuala into her dressing gown. Still racked with guilt — why couldn’t she say it, why? — she jumped as they both heard Dexter bellowing, ‘Hey, new girl, where are you?’

The next moment he appeared in the doorway.

‘What’s going on up here then?’ demanded Dexter. ‘Hot lesbian sex?’

‘Yes,’ said Kate. ‘Too bad it’s all over now. You missed it.’

‘Has it occurred to you that I’m trying to run a pub here? I’ve just called last orders and there are punters queuing three deep at the bar, so why don’t you get your ... self down there and start serving?’

He’d corrected himself, Kate realised; having been about to tell her to get her fat backside downstairs, he’d actually bothered to modify his language.

‘Fine,’ she told Dexter. ‘Keep your hair on.’ With a sweet smile she added, ‘What’s left of it.’

Chapter 24

‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ wailed Maddy the next morning. ‘I just want to kill myself, I can’t believe I said all those horrible things, of course you didn’t tell Jake about me and Kerr.’

‘I didn’t? Really? Oh, thank God for that!’ Clutching her chest with relief, Nuala sank sideways against the door frame. Last night she had slept terribly, racked by dreams of herself clambering onto the pub roof, calling the entire village to attention and announcing through a megaphone that Maddy was bonking Kerr McKinnon but that ... sshhh ... nobody must breathe a word because it was TOP

SECRET.

After that, being woken by the doorbell at seven thirty had come as a welcome reprieve.

‘What can I tell you?’ Maddy’s hair was looking distinctly bird’s-nesty, as if she hadn’t slept well either. ‘I’m so ashamed.’

Since she hadn’t been too ashamed last night, Nuala said, ‘What changed your mind?’

‘Jake, of course. He’d gone to bed by the time I got back. Deliberately, so I couldn’t interrogate him.

Then this morning I told him what I’d said to you and he went, "Oh, it wasn’t Nuala." Just like that, the bastard, as if I’d been trying to guess the mystery ingredient in a casserole. So I said, "Oh fuck," and of course that was the moment Sophie came into the kitchen and said, "That’s a very rude word, Mrs Masters says only stupid people say fuck." Which was, of course, the very reason I was saying it,’

Maddy concluded, ‘because I had been stupid.’ Looking anguished, she added, ‘I’m sorry. Really and truly. Will you still be my friend?’

‘Go on then.’ Nuala was just glad it was all over, dizzy with relief that she hadn’t let slip the secret to Jake when, in all honesty, she could so easily have done. ‘You’ll have to help me get dressed though – ow!’ she winced as Maddy threw her arms round her like an over-enthusiastic bridesmaid catching a bouquet.

‘Sorry, sorry!’

‘So who did tell Jake?’ Nuala was bursting to hear.

‘I don’t know! He won’t say! What am I going to do?’

‘ Finish with Kerr?’ Nuala ventured.

Maddy’s face crumpled. ‘I don’t think I can.’

‘OK, so you have to tell Marcella.’

With a shudder Maddy said, ‘I definitely can’t do that.’

‘Only one other thing for it, then. Find out who told Jake and hire a professional assassin.’

‘Excellent. Much the best way. And afterwards,’ Maddy said hopefully, ‘they could assassinate Jake.’

Monday night was darts night at the Fallen Angel. It was also discovery night for Maddy.

Every time she looked over at Kate working behind the bar, Kate hurriedly looked elsewhere. The real giveaway, however, was the expression on her face. With a jolt like accidentally sitting on an electric fence, Maddy knew that the person who had told Jake was Kate.

‘You’re wrong, it can’t be.’ Nuala, her eye by this time a dramatic explosion of magenta, inky-blue and yellow, was going for the sympathy vote tonight, perched on a high bar stool with her white denim skirt riding up to reveal tanned thighs. Revelling in the attention she’d been getting from the visiting team, her cheeks were pink and her eyes bright. Now, though, she shook her head. ‘Kate was with me last night, she knew why I was so upset. She would have said something if it had been her.’

Maddy doubted it. She still hadn’t the faintest idea how anyone, let alone Kate Taylor-Trent, could have found out about herself and Kerr, but somehow it had happened.

The bad news was that she had planned on speaking to the instigator privately to explain how vital it was that Marcella shouldn’t find out and generally appeal to their better nature. Well, what a waste of time that would be, seeing as Kate Taylor-Trent didn’t have one.

‘Let me get you a drink,’ one of the visiting team offered Nuala. ‘Who blacked your eye then?

Jealous boyfriend?’

Dimpling, Nuala said, ‘I tripped and fell down the stairs. And thanks, I’d love a white wine spritzer.’

Dexter, serving behind the bar, glanced at Nuala’s legs. ‘Fasten the buttons on that skirt,’ he said curtly. ‘You look like an old tart.’

‘That’s a coincidence,’ Kate chimed in, ‘you sound like an old fart.’

Nuala spluttered with laughter. Even Dexter, initially taken aback, managed to crack a smile.

‘See?’ Nuala whispered to Maddy. ‘She’s all right really. Not as bad as you think.’

Seriously? Was Nuala right? Maddy looked across the bar at the girl who had belittled her for so many years. For a split second their eyes met and Maddy wondered if, just this once, Kate might acknowledge her with a brief smile.

Who was she kidding? It didn’t happen. Whether out of guilt or indifference or plain dislike, Kate turned away and Maddy knew two things for sure.

Kate was the one who had told Jake about herself and Kerr.

And Nuala was wrong; Kate was every bit as bad as she thought.

Just the sound of Kerr’s voice on the phone had the ability to melt Maddy’s insides like chocolate.

She loved ringing him so much she couldn’t imagine how she’d ever managed to get through life without it.

‘Change of plan,’ she murmured from the back room of the delicatessen, having triple-checked that no customers had ventured into the shop. ‘I can’t make six o’clock. Marcella just rang Jake and left a message for the two of us to meet her at six.’

‘When you say the two of us,’ said Kerr, ‘you don’t mean—’

‘No, not you and me and Marcella with a shotgun.’ Maddy smiled because, miraculously, when she was talking to Kerr nothing else seemed to matter. ‘She wants to see Jake and me. No idea why, but apparently she sounded fine, so it can’t be anything too scary. Anyhow, I’m sure it won’t take long, so I’ll be over by seven.’

‘Do you want the good news or the bad news?’ said Kerr. Maddy’s stomach flip-flopped like a landed fish. ‘The bad news.’

‘I still haven’t gone off you.’

Bastard! Overcome with relief, she said, ‘And the good news?’

Kerr’s voice softened. ‘You haven’t gone off me.’

Maddy made her way back through to the shop with a dopey smirk on her face. Juliet, carefully slicing up a kiwi-lime torte, said, ‘You’re going to hate me for saying this, but it’s all going to end in tears.’

Stubbornly, Maddy said, ‘Don’t be such a pessimist.’

‘Take it from me, a secret is only a secret if nobody else knows about it. Even a secret shared between two people can be risky. It only works if they both have watertight reasons for wanting it kept.’

‘I know, I know, but we’re managing.’ If there had been any sand around, Maddy would have stuck her head in it.

‘I’m just warning you, that’s all.’ Juliet’s dark eyes were luminous with compassion. ‘You and Kerr know. I know. So does Nuala and Jake. And now there’s someone else as well. You think it’s Kate Taylor-Trent but you’re not completely sure. At this rate there aren’t going to be many people left in Ashcombe who aren’t in on the secret.’

Not wanting to hear this, Maddy reached for the silver tongs and began placing rum truffles from the glass-fronted case into one of the glossy cream boxes. Rum truffles were Marcella’s favourite.

Having weighed the box, she said, ‘Six pounds fifty,’ so that Juliet could add the extra amount to her slate.

‘That’s what a guilty husband does when he’s been spending too much time with his mistress,’ said Juliet. ‘Stops off at a garage and grabs a bunch of orange carnations for the wife.’

‘Is that what Tiff’s father used to do?’ Maddy felt mean, but she couldn’t resist the dig. Life was complicated enough right now, without being subjected to lectures from well-meaning friends who hadn’t exactly led blameless lives themselves.

‘I’m sure he did,’ said Juliet with a faint smile. ‘Although I’d like to think he did a bit better than a few grotty carnations smelling of petrol.’

Juliet had never deliberately set out to steal another woman’s husband, Maddy knew that. She hadn’t discovered until it was too late that he had a wife at home, and by then Tiff had been on the way.

‘Do you miss him?’ said Maddy.

‘You mean do I wish we could still be together, like a normal happy family?’ Juliet slid the torte back into the chiller cabinet and moved towards the till as a retired couple came into the shop.

Lowering her voice, she murmured, ‘No, I don’t. Tiff and I are fine together.’

‘Just the two of you? Don’t you ever want anyone else?’

‘We can’t always have what we want, can we?’ said Juliet. ‘Sometimes we just have to settle for what we can get.’

The bus trundled along Main Street, finally slowing up as it reached the war memorial. Marcella would normally have collected her bags together by now, made her way to the front of the vehicle and chatted to the driver while she waited for the bus to come to a halt.

This time she stayed in her seat, clutching her pink raffia bag to her chest, until the bus stopped running and the door opened.

‘Thought you’d fallen asleep,’ said the driver when she finally reached the steps.

‘Not me.’ Marcella smiled absently at him. ‘Thanks, Mickey. See you.’

‘What happened to all your bags?’ He looked surprised; one of life’s great shoppers, Marcella was invariably loaded down like a packhorse.

She shook her head as she climbed down and waggled her fingers at him. ‘Didn’t buy anything today, Mickey. Nothing caught my eye.’

It wasn’t true of course, but she could hardly show him the one item she had bought; there were some things it just wasn’t appropriate to share with your friendly neighbourhood bus driver.

Still in a bit of a daze, Marcella waited until Mickey had driven off along Ashcombe Road before turning to face Snow Cottage. It was hard to believe quite how drastically life was about to change.

‘Mum!’ Her gaze shifting to the upstairs window, Marcella saw Maddy waving at her. ‘Come on, we’ve been waiting for you! You’re late!’

Darling Maddy, she loved her with all her heart. And Jake. And Sophie too. Her wonderful family

– oh Lord, here she was, off again, how completely ridiculous.

Upstairs in her bedroom, Maddy saw the tears tumbling down Marcella’s smooth brown cheeks and felt her heart sink like a stone. Marcella didn’t cry; she was the strongest, bravest person she knew.

This had to be bad.

Either bad, or something to do with Kerr McKinnon, in which case it was a catastrophe.

‘Jake?’ Suddenly terrified, Maddy backed away from the window and clattered downstairs. ‘Open the front door quick, Mum’s here,’ she heard her voice falter, ‘and she’s crying.’

By the time Maddy reached the hall, Jake had opened the door and there was Marcella in her denim jacket and primrose-yellow pedal-pushers, with her hair wrapped up in a spectacular pink scarf and tears rolling down her face.

Hardly daring to breathe, Maddy said, ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

Fumbling for a tissue that was already shredded and damp, Marcella shook her head. ‘I’ve got a bit of news. Brace yourselves now, you two.’ She broke into a huge, unrepentant grin. ‘I’m pregnant.’

Chapter 25

‘Oh my God, oh my God!’ Shocked and delighted, as well as vastly relieved that it wasn’t anything to do with Kerr — at least, she certainly hoped it wasn’t — Maddy threw her arms round Marcella. ‘Really? That’s fantastic ... it’s just the most amazing news ever!’

Simultaneously laughing and crying, Marcella said, ‘I know. I think I’m still in shock.

Poor Vince, he really should have been the first to know — oh, thanks, darling.’ She beamed at Jake, who had thrust a box of Kleenex into her hands. ‘But he’s on one of his fishing trips and his phone’s switched off and I just couldn’t wait to tell you. I still can’t believe it. I’m pregnant, I’m actually having a baby, it’s my biggest ever dream come true ...’

Tears of joy were streaming unstoppably down Marcella’s cheeks now as Jake hugged her and they made their way through to the kitchen. Wiping her own eyes, Maddy said, ‘I’m so happy for you,’ and meant it. This had been Marcella’s fantasy for so many years; she had been a perfect mother to them, yet the longing for a child of her own had never faded. And now she was going to have one: It was like a miracle.

‘I had absolutely no idea! Guess how I found out?’ Pulling out a chair at the scrubbed oak table, Marcella said eagerly, ‘What do I smell of?’

‘Um ...’ Mystified, Maddy sniffed. ‘Well, nothing.’

‘Exactly! And I’ve been into Bath!’

Maddy twigged at last; Marcella’s regular shopping jaunts invariably included a trawl through the perfume hall of Jolly’s department store, squishing herself with enough scent to fell an elephant.

‘They banned you from Jolly’s?’

‘Ha, they wouldn’t dare! No, I went in there as usual, all ready to start squishing, and it was so weird, I just kept picking up the bottles, sniffing them, then putting them down again. I didn’t feel sick exactly, I just couldn’t bring myself to actually squirt any perfume on me. Well, it was just the strangest thing; even the sales girls thought it was odd. In the end it was Daphne, from the Estée Lauder counter, who said, "You’re not pregnant, are you?" and I just laughed, because she’d only said it as a joke.

But then I went for a coffee at that nice place on Pulteney Bridge — you know, the one where you’re actually allowed to have a fag — and when I pushed open the door it was so smoky in there I had to come out again.’ Marcella waggled her hands in disbelief. ‘Well, that’s something that’s never happened to me before, so I began to think hey-up, what’s going on here? So I went to the chemist, bought one of those tests and popped back to Jolly’s because their loos are so nice. And ... then I did the test, and it was ... it was ... p-positive, and I realised I was ... p-p-pregnant. God, look at me, off again, I’m like the Trevi fountain.’ Dragging another handful of tissues from the box she rubbed away her tears. ‘It’s the hormones, Dr Carter told me. They’ve just swirled up and knocked me for six — oh, thanks love.’ Smiling gratefully up at Jake, she took the mug of tea. ‘We should be cracking open the champagne really, but Dr Carter says no alcohol, to be on the safe side.’

‘Hang on, how can you have seen Dr Carter already?’ Maddy frowned, because it was easier to get an audience with the Pope than it was to persuade Dr Carter’s dragon of a receptionist to give you an appointment this side of Christmas.

‘Oh, it was fab. I made the receptionist an offer she couldn’t refuse.’ Marcella looked pleased with herself. ‘I turned up at the surgery and she tried to fob me off with an appointment in twelve days’

time, so I told her that wasn’t good enough, and that I was going to sit there in the waiting room until I was seen. Then the old trout tried telling me I wasn’t urgent and I said I’d spent the last twenty years trying to get pregnant and now that it looked as if I might actually be pregnant I wanted it confirmed this minute.’

‘ You’re brave.’ Maddy was filled with admiration.

‘Not really, just desperate. Then I started crying again, really loudly, and that was when Dr Carter came out and took me into his office. He’d been in there dictating his letters, listening to the whole shouting match and having a good laugh, the sod.’ Marcella’s smile was rueful. ‘He said nobody’s ever stood their ground quite like that before now. Usually his receptionist boots them out. But when he heard me say I was pregnant he had to come and get me for the sake of my blood pressure.

Anyway, so he examined me and confirmed it, and we both got a bit emotional because he knew how much it meant to me. Then he gave me all these leaflets and a big lecture on how to look after myself, because things can still go wrong, especially with me being so ancient.’

‘Ancient,’ Maddy scoffed, because Marcella had always looked so young for her age; she had the face and figure of a thirty-year-old.

‘I’m forty-three.’ For a moment Marcella’s smile slipped. ‘I’ve never been pregnant before. Dr Carter warned me about the risk of miscarriage. No cigarettes, obviously. No alcohol.

No unpasteurised cheese or raw eggs or climbing ladders. He made a point of telling me I should be taking things easy, avoiding any stress. No physical exertions and definitely no emotional turmoil.’

With a beatific smile, Marcella sat back and gently patted her flat stomach. ‘Just inner calm and relaxation classes and general blissfulness.’

Oh Lord. Maddy inadvertently caught Jake’s eye and instantly wished she hadn’t.

‘Hear that? No stress.’ Jake raised a meaningful eyebrow and Maddy glowered back at him.

‘Yes, darling, I was going to talk to you about that anyway,’ said Marcella. ‘Call me shameless, but I’m taking advantage of my delicate condition. Promise me you’ll stop seeing this married man of yours.’ Leaning across, she gave Maddy’s hand a squeeze. ‘Sweetheart, I’ve never asked you for anything before, but I’m asking you now. Please give him up. For this baby, if not for yourself.’

It was ten past seven. Back in the cottage, Jake was busy cooking a mushroom risotto while Marcella, with enormous relish, read aloud scary passages from the copy of You and Your Pregnancy she hadn’t been able to resist buying in WH Smith. Maddy, who had volunteered to pick Sophie up from her Thursday night dance class in Batheaston, rang Kerr as soon as she was safely inside the car.

He answered on the third ring, as she was heading out of the village.

‘D’you want the good news or the bad news?’

‘Well, you aren’t here,’ said Kerr, ‘so I can guess the bad news.’

‘I can’t see you tonight. We’ve got Marcella with us. She’s pregnant, can you believe it? You’ve never seen anyone so happy.’

‘That’s fantastic. I’m glad for her.’ Kerr knew all about Marcella’s years of longing for a baby.

Ruefully he added, ‘Even if she does wish I was dead.’

‘Not dead. Just ... preferably not on this continent.’ Maddy smiled as she said it, but her fingers tightened round the steering wheel.

‘So was that the good news, or is there more?’

Good news? Apart from Marcella’s pregnancy, when had there been any good news? Longingly Maddy pictured Kerr in his flat, stretched out across the sofa, drinking a lager and flicking through the TV channels, winding down after a hard day’s work, waiting for her .. .

‘ Hey,’ Kerr prompted, breaking into her muddled thoughts. ‘When am I going to see you? And I’m not talking about delivering sandwiches to the office,’ he added. ‘I mean when am I going to really see you?’

Maddy’s throat tightened. Now was the time to tell him if she had a shred of decency about her, an honest bone in her body, an ounce of loyalty towards Marcella.

‘Tomorrow evening.’ Her mouth was dry with shame; it took an effort to unstick her traitorous tongue from the roof of her mouth. ‘Tomorrow, seven o’clock. I. promise.’

At nine thirty, sunburned and windswept and smelling of the sea, Vince arrived at Snow Cottage to pick Marcella up. Having greeted Maddy and Jake, he bent over the back of the sofa and gave Marcella a kiss.

‘How was it?’ Marcella had made sure the incriminating book was out of sight, under a cushion.’

‘Fantastic. Perfect conditions.’ Vince’s dark hair flopped over his forehead as he tickled the soles of Sophie’s bare feet. Proudly he said, ‘Five sea bass, three plaice and a dozen mackerel.’

‘Oh darling, that’s brilliant. And guess what else? We’re going to have a baby.’

Vince stopped tickling Sophie’s feet.

‘What?’

‘I think you heard,’ Marcella said happily.

‘It’s a surprise!’ screamed Sophie, beside herself with excitement. ‘I wanted to tell you, but Dad said I wouldn’t get any pocket money for a year.’

Vince was gazing at Marcella. His dark eyes filled with tears of joy. Barely able to speak, he whispered, ‘A baby? Really?’

Marcella smiled and nodded. Maddy, watching Vince, knew how desperately he had always longed for children of his own.

The tears were sliding unashamedly down his cheeks now. With his Italian blood coursing through his veins, Vince made no attempt to hide them.

‘Oh, poor Vince.’ Scrambling off the sofa, Sophie rushed to fling her arms around him. ‘Don’t cry, babies aren’t that bad. We thought you’d be pleased.’

Chapter 26

Lurking in the bushes wasn’t something Maddy had much experience of doing. She was discovering that it involved close acquaintance with a lot more insects than she’d imagined.

It was eleven twenty, kicking out time at the Fallen Angel. Since waiting outside the entrance to the pub would only arouse the curiosity of departing regulars, Maddy was forced to skulk in the shadows with leaves tickling the back of her neck, moths flitting past her face like mini kamikaze pilots and grasshoppers making their raucous, ratchety grasshopper noises at her feet.

Jerking back in horror, Maddy discovered a spider had been busily constructing a cobweb between her hair and a handily positioned section of hedge. With a shudder of revulsion she pummelled the cobweb away and leaped to one side, time-warp style, as a grasshopper rasped in the vicinity of her left foot. Honestly, nature, sometimes there was just that bit too much of it.

Moments later, thankfully, the pub door opened and into a pool of light stepped the object of Maddy’s attention.

Maddy waited until the door had swung shut, extinguishing the pool of light, before emerging from the depths of the hedge.

Having finished her shift, Kate was on her way home. With her Prada bag slung over one shoulder, her skirt swirling and her high heels clacking along the pavement, from this angle she looked like a model on TV advertising the latest in confidence-boosting tampons.

It wasn’t until she turned her head, as Maddy crossed the road towards her, that the scars on her face were visible.

‘Can I have a word?’ said Maddy, wishing with all her heart that she didn’t have to do this, but knowing she must.

‘Fire away.’ Kate didn’t stop walking, or even slow down. Maddy kept pace with her as she headed for the junction where Main Street met Gypsy Lane.

Here goes.

‘Do you know?’

‘Do I know what?’

It was too dark to see whether Kate’s expression had changed, but she’d paused for a moment before asking the question.

‘OK,’ said Maddy, ‘I think you do know. But just in case you don’t, I’d rather not say.’

This time Kate didn’t hesitate. ‘I’m sorry, I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.’

That sounded genuine enough. Phew, the relief. My mistake, thought Maddy; jumping to the wrong conclusion as usual.

‘Unless you mean the thing about you and Kerr McKinnon,’ said Kate.

Bugger.

‘ Well, yes, that’s the thing I mean.’ Humiliatingly, Maddy heard her voice wobble halfway through, making her sound like a petrified fourteen-year-old boy asking a girl out on a date.

‘Thought it might be.’ Kate sounded annoyingly confident;

she had the upper hand and she knew it. ‘Well, well, you and Kerr. I take it Marcella doesn’t know yet.’

Maddy braced herself.

‘No, and that’s why I need to talk to you, because—’

‘She’ll go ballistic? Disown you? Disembowel you?’

‘No,’ said Maddy. ‘That’s not the reason.’

‘It must give you a bit of a thrill,’ said Kate. ‘I bet you never thought you’d get a look-in with Kerr McKinnon.’ She paused, allowing Maddy to recall the time, all those years back, when Kerr had caused every girl’s heart to beat faster. At seventeen and physically irresistible, he’d been as out of reach to ordinary mortals as Robbie Williams or David Beckham today. As for those so-called ordinary mortals with tragic haircuts, beer-bottle spectacles and knock knees, well, who in their right mind would spare them so much as a second glance? Whereas Kate, already precociously advanced in the bosom department and supremely confident of her own looks at thirteen, had undoubtedly felt that before long she would have her chance with Kerr .. .

Anyway, now wasn’t the time to dredge up silly childhood rivalries. Especially ones she’d so spectacularly lost.

‘Marcella’s pregnant,’ said Maddy. ‘She’s forty-three and she’s just found out she’s pregnant.’

This stopped Kate in her tracks.

‘But I thought she couldn’t—’

‘That’s what we all thought. But it’s happened, which is why I need to talk to you. The doctor’s warned Marcella that she has to take things easy, not exert herself, not get het up about anything.’

‘Oh, I get it.’ Kate’s lip curled. ‘Emotional blackmail.’ Maddy swallowed. ‘This isn’t blackmail.’

‘Come on, of course it is. You’re worried sick about your big secret getting out, and you’re warning me to keep my mouth shut. Because if I don’t, Marcella might lose the baby and then it would all be my fault.’

That wasn’t fair. OK, so it might be kind of true, but it was still unfair.

‘I’m just saying,’ Maddy hesitated, ‘it’s pretty obviously Marcella’s only chance. You wouldn’t want it to go wrong, would you?’

They’d reached the entrance to Dauncey House. Facing her, Kate said, ‘Don’t you think you’re going about this the wrong way? Hasn’t it even occurred to you to stop seeing Kerr McKinnon?’

Maddy felt sick. Why did people have to keep on saying that, as if it was the simplest thing in the world?

‘I’m going to. I will.’ Seeing that Kate was turning away, about to disappear up the drive, she blurted out, ‘How did you know?’

‘You mean how did I find out about you and Kerr? You really want me to tell you?’

Gripped with desperation, Maddy said, ‘Yes.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Kate smiled. ‘You see, that’s the whole point. You think you’re being so careful, but there’s always that chance you’ll be caught out. I’ll just leave you to think it over, wonder where you slipped up.’

What a cow.

‘You haven’t told Estelle, have you?’ Maddy blurted out, because Kate was heading up to the house.

‘I think you’d have heard, don’t you?’

‘And you won’t say anything to Marcella?’

‘She’s probably tougher than you think,’ said Kate. Yes, but what if she isn’t?

‘Please,’ Maddy called out, but all she heard was Kate’s laughter as she disappeared from view.

* * *

Not a lot of work was getting done when Maddy arrived at the offices of Callaghan and Fox the next day. The air was thick with hairspray, the female staff were all wearing far more make-up than usual and Sara, the receptionist, was busy brushing bronzing powder into her pillowy cleavage.

‘Blimey,’ Maddy plonked the cool-box onto the desk, ‘are we auditioning for Baywatch?’

Sara beamed; having overdone the bronzer on her face, she’d gone an alarming shade of Dale Winton.

‘God, could you see me in a bikini? But we are going to be on TV,’ she went on brightly. ‘Kerr had a call from someone at HTV this morning, asking if they could come and do a piece for a careers slot on the local news – you know, what it’s like to work in PR kind of thing. Isn’t that so cool? I’ve never been on the telly before, apart from the time I told all my friends I was off to Glastonbury Festival and they saw me on TV queuing up with my mum for The Antiques Roadshow. Which didn’t do wonders for my street cred.’ Sara pulled a face, then added chirpily, ‘But this is completely different. I won’t be wearing a sad old anorak this time, oh no! Everyone’s going to see me looking dead cool, working in a trendy PR

agency for my hunky boss. How about you, Maddy, you’re single, aren’t you? D’you think Kerr’s hunky?’

Rather sweetly, Sara had begun dropping hints like this over the last week or so; absolutely unaware that anything was going on between Kerr and Maddy, she was making unsubtle attempts to pair them up.

Since she could hardly deny that Kerr was attractive – because that would be like saying, ‘George Clooney? God, yuk, he’s got a face like a warthog’ – Maddy shrugged and smiled. ‘Kerr? He’s not bad.

I’ve seen worse.’ She tapped the cool-box. ‘Now, d’you want me to leave this in the coffee room?’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. Ooh, I’ve just had a brainwave!’ Excitedly Sara said, ‘The TV crew are going to be here from eleven till two, so why don’t you go off now and do the rest of your deliveries, then come back with our stuff while they’re in the middle of filming. Wouldn’t that be great? Then you can be on telly too!’

Maddy pictured the scene; Marcella watching TV at home, initially repulsed by the sight of Kerr McKinnon, then boggling in disbelief as her own daughter pranced into view behind him. Oh yes, that’d do Marcella’s blood pressure the world of good. Plus, they’d have to buy a new TV set to replace the one she’d smashed.

‘I can’t.’ Maddy looked regretful. ‘I’ve got a million deliveries then Juliet needs me back at the shop. When’s it going to be shown, anyway?’

‘They can’t say for sure. Maybe tonight, maybe next week. But they’ll let us know,’ Sara said confidently. ‘I made Kerr ask, so my mum could phone everyone she’s ever met in her life.’

‘Well, I’ll definitely watch it,’ promised Maddy. ‘Is Kerr in his office?’

‘He is.’ Beneath the trowelled-on make-up, Sara’s eyes gleamed with matchmaking interest. ‘Do you want to see him?’

‘No need.’ Maddy knew she’d be seeing Kerr at seven o’clock tonight. ‘Just tell him that he wanted white bread with his BLT, but we ran out. So just for today he’ll have to make do with wholemeal instead.’

Chapter 27

Nuala was lying on the sofa devouring the book that was about to change her life when the knock came on the living-room door. As guiltily as a teenager caught with a copy of Playboy, she shovelled the paperback behind a green velvet cushion and called out, ‘Who’s that?’

‘Only me.’ Pushing the door open, Kate Taylor-Trent said, ‘Sorry, I didn’t know if you were asleep.

Dexter needs to send the VAT stuff off to the accountants. He says the folder should be in the filing cabinet in his office, and you’ll know where to find it.’

‘I’ll get it.’ Levering herself awkwardly up off the sofa with her good arm, Nuala watched as the book slithered out from under the cushion and landed with a plop on the floor. Just as well it wasn’t Playboy.

By the time she returned from the office with the relevant folder, Kate had picked up the book and was leafing through the pages.

Flushing, Nuala said defensively, ‘I know, I’m pathetic.’

‘At least you’re doing something about it. These things are huge business in the States. My flatmate had hundreds. I’ve never read one,’ said Kate.

‘It was you who made me buy it,’ Nuala confessed, blushing more deeply than ever but feeling emboldened. ‘Me?’

‘That title: Don’t Be A Doormat. I mean, look at the way Dexter treats me. I’ve got so used to it I just put up with it, but you don’t let him get away with anything. And you’re absolutely right, which is why I’m going to change.’ Grabbing the book back from Kate, Nuala found the relevant chapter headings and jabbed at them eagerly with her index finger. ‘See? Lay Down The Law! You’re A Person Too!

Startle Him To His Senses! It’s all here in black and white — I can’t believe I’ve been such a wimp.

From now on, I’m going to give as good as I get and really stand up to Dexter.’ Proudly, she straightened her spine and concluded, ‘I’m going to be just like you!’

Kate looked impressed. At that moment Dexter shouted up the stairs, ‘Hasn’t the silly bat found it yet? What is she, blind?’

Hurriedly Nuala handed over the folder bulging with VAT receipts.

‘Look, I’m only up to Chapter Seven. Anyway, I can’t do it yet. Not in front of other people.’

Kate raised an eyebrow. ‘When then?’

When indeed?

‘Later,’ said Nuala, feeling determined and panicky. ‘I promise.’

Don’t Be A Doormat was hidden inside a Marks and Spencer carrier and stuffed out of sight at the back of the wardrobe, but - Nuala could still hear it whispering to her as she and Dexter lounged on the sofa together watching TV. She’d finished the rest of the book earlier this afternoon and every word of it had made absolute, earth-shattering sense. It was like picking up the Bible and suddenly becoming a born-again Christian, without having to wear unflattering Alice bands and flat sandals.

And it wasn’t as if she had anything to lose, Nuala reminded herself; they would be redefining their relationship, that was all. Nothing but good could come of it. How did that song go? Oh yes —

‘Thinnnnngs Can Only Get Betterrrrr ...’

Crikey. Put like that, what on earth was she waiting for? ‘Do you mind?’ complained Dexter, turning up the TV. ‘Hmm?’

‘That bloody awful noise. You’re singing under your breath. Stop it.’

Thinnnngs can only get betterrrr .. .

‘I like singing,’ said Nuala.

‘Well, that’s fine, I’m glad. I just don’t like having to listen to it,’ Dexter snorted. ‘You sound like a cat being neutered.’

Don’t Let Him Diss You, Nuala recalled being instructed by one of the chapter headings in the book.

You Deserve Respect. And I do, Nuala thought indignantly, because I’m A Human Being Too, and if I want to sing, I jolly well can .. .

Exasperated, Dexter said, ‘You’re doing it again.’

‘So?’

‘It’s horrible.’

‘You always have to criticise me, don’t you?’ Bravely, Nuala turned to face him. ‘Every single thing about me is wrong, according to you.’

Dexter shrugged and yawned. ‘I wouldn’t say every single thing.’

‘Yes you would! OK, how about those trousers?’ Pointing accusingly at the TV screen, where Kylie Minogue was currently twirling and pouting along to her latest single, Nuala demanded, ‘What would you say if I bought a pair like that?’

Kylie’s trousers were primrose yellow, shimmery and skin tight. Her perfect little bottom was now wiggling fetchingly this way and that in time with the music.

‘Are you serious?’ said Dexter in amazement. ‘With your thighs? You’d look bloody awful.’

‘You see? That’s exactly what I mean.’ Nuala’s voice rose an octave. ‘You have no respect for me. You criticise me all the time and I’ve had enough. I’m not going to put up with it any more.’

‘OK,’ said Dexter.

‘And you can stop watching that!’ Realising that his attention had been drawn back to Kylie’s pert, gyrating bottom, Nuala snatched the remote control away from him and switched off the TV. ‘This is important! We’re having a discussion here and the least you can do is listen!’

Actually, the authors of the book advised that all discussions be carried out in a calm and civilised manner, but this was easier said than done.

‘ We aren’t having a discussion,’ Dexter pointed out. ‘You’re just having a rant. All I’m trying to do is watch the TV in peace.’

‘You treat me like dirt,’ Nuala exploded. ‘Like a piece of old rubbish! And I’m not putting up with it any more.’

‘You’ve said that already.’

Empowerment, thought Nuala. Self-respect. Don’t Be A Doormat.

‘ I’m serious,’ she insisted. ‘I mean it. You have to stop belittling me, criticising me, making me feel small.’

‘Or you’ll do what?’ Dexter was sounding supremely disinterested.

Right. Shock Him To His Senses.

‘Or it’s all over between us,’ said Nuala, her heart beginning to clatter. ‘Finished.’

With Kylie no longer doing her twirly thing on TV, silence filled the room. Finally, nodding slowly, Dexter said, ‘OK. If that’s what you want.’

What? What was that supposed to mean? Nuala’s eyes widened in panic. Surely she’d misunderstood.

Tentatively she said, ‘So ... you’ll stop doing it?’

Dexter gave her a measured look. ‘Come on, it’s not working, is it? You’re absolutely right.

Ending it now would be the best thing all round.’

‘B-but ... you can’t mean that!’ Feeling as though she was sinking into a hole of her own making, Nuala croaked desperately, ‘I only said it to give you a scare.’

‘No you didn’t.’

‘I did! I don’t want us to split up,’ Nuala wailed.

‘You say that, but subconsciously you do,’ said Dexter, ‘and you’re right. I mean, look at us, we’re hardly love’s young dream, are we? You couldn’t call us happy. One of the old blokes in the bar the other night asked me if I’d blacked your eye, can you imagine that? He actually thought I’d thumped you and chucked you down the stairs.’

Numbly, Nuala said, ‘So did Maddy.’

‘Well then, there you go. If that’s what people think I do to you, there has to be something seriously wrong.’

Oh God, panic attack, this wasn’t supposed to be happening. Beginning to hyperventilate – and jettisoning the first and most important rule of Don’t Be A Doormat – Nuala whimpered, ‘But I love you!’

‘No,’ shaking his head, Dexter hauled himself to his feet, ‘you don’t. You’re just scared of being on your own.’

‘Don’t do this to me,’ begged Nuala, scarcely able to take in what she was hearing. ‘I didn’t mean to say it, I was only trying to be more like Kate.’

‘Exactly. You can’t try to be more like somebody else,’ Dexter’s tone was almost sympathetic now,

‘because it never works. You’re you, Nuala. You shouldn’t have to change. We aren’t right for each other, that’s all. And deep down, you know it as well as I do.’

‘Where are you going?’ Nuala whispered as he headed for the door.

‘It’s ten past five. I’ve got a pub to open up.’

A sensation like cold cement trickling into her stomach caused Nuala to grip the side of the sofa.

Fearfully she said, ‘And where ... where am I going?’

Pausing in the doorway, Dexter ran his fingers through his receding hair.

‘That’s up to you. I’m not a monster, Nuala, I’m not about to turf you out into the street. I’ll sleep on the sofa until you find somewhere else to stay.’

Oh God, this was unbearable, already he was being far nicer to her than he’d been in months.

Maybe if she hung on for a while, he might

‘I’m not going to change my mind,’ said Dexter, who had always possessed the uncanny ability to know what was going on inside her head.

In desperation Nuala blurted, ‘But you don’t know that for sure! You might realise you’ve made a horrible mistake.’

‘I won’t, because I haven’t.’ Calmly, Dexter checked his watch. ‘Nuala, I’m sorry, but I have to open the pub. Trust me, you’ll be fine. In fact, give it a few weeks and you’ll thank me for this.’

Which just goes to show how stupid you are, Nuala thought hysterically, tears filling her eyes as Dexter made his way downstairs. Because all I want to do is die.

Chapter 28

‘OK, OK, this isn’t going to help.’ Jake was seriously beginning to regret opening the front door now. Girls with boyfriend trouble, hell bent on unburdening themselves, weren’t his forte at the best of times, but when he had a night out planned in Bath they were a complete pain in the bum.

Jake was fond of Nuala, it went without saying, but she had only come over to the cottage to regale Maddy with her woes. When he’d told her Maddy wasn’t here, he’d expected Nuala to leave, but she’d come in and started offloading her woes onto him instead.

‘I don’t care! I’m going to sue the bloody woman who wrote this sodding bloody book!’ Ripping out yet another page and crushing it into a ball, Nuala wailed, ‘Eight pounds ninety- nine, can you believe that? I actually paid her eight pounds ninety-nine to completely bugger up my life ... aaarrgh!’

Jake, who’d been in the shower when the doorbell had gone and was only wearing a purple towel, ducked as the balled-up paper missile whistled past his head. The kitchen floor was awash with them and Nuala evidently planned to keep on going until she’d used up every page, fuelled by the bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin she’d brought along with her from the Angel.

‘You shouldn’t be drinking that stuff on its own,’ said Jake. ‘At least put some orange juice with it.’

‘Don’t bully me. This is my worst night ever. Do you think he’ll change his mind?’ Nuala pleaded, sloshing another inch of gin into her glass.

‘Honestly? No.’

‘No?’ She looked distraught. ‘You don’t mean that!’ With a sigh and a surreptitious glance at his watch, Jake saw that it was eight o’clock already. Maddy, having left her mobile phone at home, was uncontactable. Sophie was staying over at Tiff’s house tonight. And since he clearly wasn’t going to be allowed to abandon Nuala in her current state of drunken grief, he may as well give up any thought now of going out.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘These things happen. You and Dexter were never right for each other.

You’ll be over him in no time.’

‘Never.’ Misjudging the angle of her glass, Nuala dribbled gin down her chin.

‘You deserve so much better,’ Jake persisted, this being a useful line he often resorted to himself.

‘Oh, do me a favour, I’m not that stupid. Anyway, you have no idea how I feel,’ Nuala said miserably. ‘How can you? You’ve never been rejected in your life.’

Jake smiled briefly to himself as he opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice. If only she knew.

Aloud he said, ‘That’s absolutely not true. I wrote a love letter to Madonna when I was twelve and did she write back? Never, not one word. I was distraught.’

As he edged towards the door, Nuala looked up fearfully, clearly terrified of being left on her own. ‘Where are you going now?’

Jake indicated the bath towel slung round his hips.

‘Call me old-fashioned, but I thought I might put some clothes on.’

Still wary, she said, ‘And after that?’

‘After that?’ Realising that he really was stuck here for the evening, Jake decided he may as well make the best of it. Ruffling Nuala’s already ruffled hair, he said affectionately, ‘I’m going to help you finish that bottle of gin.’

‘Thanks.’ Nuala’s mouth began to wobble with relief; she couldn’t have handled being abandoned by two men in one night. ‘Just to warn you though, I may get a bit weepy.’

‘Hey, don’t be daft.’ Jake flashed her a grin; he’d had to cope with more than his fair share of weeping females in his time. ‘Shoulder to cry on? I’m your man.’

By eleven o’clock the bottle of Bombay Sapphire was finished.

‘Empty. Bugger.’ Nuala looked bereft. ‘What are we supposed to do now?’

‘Stop drinking?’ said Jake. ‘It’s a miracle you’re still awake.’

‘I’m too depressed to sleep.’ She pulled a suicidal face. ‘OK if I stay here?’

‘Course you can. The bed’s made up in the spare room.’

‘Oh God, what am I going to do?’ Nuala closed her eyes in despair; every so often she forgot what had happened, then the next moment it all came rushing back to her, making her head spin with misery.

‘Everyone’s going to be sniggering behind my back. I feel so humiliated. I’ll be the laughing stock of Ashcombe.’

‘That’s rubbish. Why would anyone laugh?’

‘Because Dexter doesn’t want me any more and that makes me look stupid.’ Nuala only realised her right elbow had been propping her up when she moved it. She promptly slid sideways on the sofa, ending up in Jake’s lap.

‘You don’t have to look stupid.’ He was attempting to haul her upright again but Nuala decided she was happier horizontal. ‘Act like you’re not bothered. Put on a brave face, do yourself up and flirt for England. Isn’t that better than moping around like a wet weekend?’

‘Mmm.’ Nodding, Nuala thought how delicious Jake smelled, and how fantastic the soft cotton of his shirt felt against her cheek. He really was lovely, and — in theory — what he was saying made a lot of sense.

‘Show Dexter what he’s missing.’ Above her, Jake was still carrying on with his pep talk.

‘Make it clear you don’t need him.’

‘Because I can do so much better, you mean? Come on, look at me.’ Nuala groaned. ‘Black eye, bruises, cracked collarbone — oh yes, they’ll really be queueing up for me; Ewan McGregor, George Clooney... How am I ever going to be able to choose?’

‘Don’t put yourself down.’ Jake gave her hip an encouraging squeeze. ‘By this time next week your bruises will be gone.’

‘Big deal,’ Nuala muttered into Jake’s shirt.

‘Stop it. You’re not ugly. And you do deserve better than Dexter.’

Turning her head, Nuala blinked up at him. Jake Harvey was possibly the best-looking male she’d ever encountered in the flesh. You couldn’t look at him and not be bowled over by those cheekbones, that chiselled mouth, those incredible eyelashes of his. And he was still stroking her hi p . . .

‘ You’re better than Dexter,’ said Nuala, suddenly realising what would help her over this.

‘Well, thanks.’ Jake smiled down at her, taking it as a compliment.

Hurriedly, before she lost her nerve, Nuala said, ‘You could cheer me up.’

‘What, tell you a few jokes?’

‘Sleep with me,’ Nuala blurted out. ‘That would make me feel better.’

Jake’s hand stopped stroking her hip. ‘What?’

‘No strings,’ Nuala went on hurriedly, in case he thought she was expecting an engagement ring.

‘Just sex. You sleep with loads of girls, so why not me? A one-night stand, that’s all I’m saying. We could do that, couldn’t we? It’d be fun. And it would piss Dexter right off.’

Crikey, what an offer. Jake tried his hardest not to smile. ‘Nu, thanks for the offer, but I couldn’t.

Really. We’re friends, and I don’t want to spoil that.’

Eagerly Nuala said, ‘But we wouldn’t spoil anything!’

‘You don’t know. It wouldn’t feel right.’ Jake was doing his utmost to be tactful.

‘I’m too ugly!’

‘You’re not too ugly. We’ve just both had a bit to drink. Trust me, when you wake up tomorrow morning you’ll be glad we didn’t do it.’

‘But I want to!’ cried Nuala, clearly taking the rejection personally. ‘This isn’t fair. How many girls have you slept with in the last five years? Why can’t it be my turn now?’

‘Because I’m doing the decent thing for once and behaving like a gentleman.’

‘That’s what men say when they don’t fancy you,’ Nuala grumbled.

It’s what men say when they don’t want to lose a good friend.’ To his immense relief, Jake heard the Saab pulling up outside the cottage. Thank God for that. ‘Maddy’s back,’ he told Nuala, helping her to sit up and this time making sure she stayed up. ‘You can tell her about you and Dexter.’ Actually, it wasn’t eleven thirty yet; now that Maddy was here he could shoot into Bath after all.

He just hoped for Maddy’s sake that she’d finally come to her senses and finished with Kerr McKinnon.

‘Blimey, what’s been going on here?’ Maddy gazed at them, taking in the empty gin bottle and Nuala’s air of dishevelment.

‘Dexter’s dumped me. I’ve never been so miserable in my life. No boyfriend, no job, nowhere to live,’ said Nuala. ‘So anyway, I came over to talk to you about it, but you were out so I talked to Jake instead, and he said not to worry, I could move in with you.’

‘I didn’t say she could move in with us,’ Jake hissed at Maddy in the kitchen. ‘She said she was too depressed to sleep, then she said was it OK if she stayed here, and I said yes, because I thought she meant just for tonight, not forever. You’ll have to tell her.’

‘How can I? She’s my friend.’ Energetically frying bacon for sandwiches, Maddy leaped back as the fat spattered like fireworks in the pan. ‘Anyway, it’s too late now, you’ve already said she can live with us.’

‘But I don’t want her to!’

‘That’s just mean. She needs somewhere to stay.’ Maddy frowned. ‘What have you got against Nuala?’

Exasperated, Jake said, ‘She fancies me. It’s not exactly relaxing, sharing a house with a girl who just wants to jump on you and rip all your clothes off.’

‘Oh, don’t talk such rubbish. She’s upset about Dexter,’ Maddy scoffed. ‘Just because you flirt with every girl you meet doesn’t automatically mean they fancy you back.’

‘But—’

‘Hi, can you do my bacon really crispy?’ Appearing in the kitchen doorway, oblivious to their furious whispers, Nuala held out her good arm and tottered unsteadily over to Jake. She hugged him hard, then said, I’ve been having a think. It’s better if we don’t have sex. OK?’

Maddy raised an eyebrow. Jake marvelled at Nuala’ s ability to make it sound as though he’d been the one begging her to sleep with him.

‘OK,’ he said.

‘Great.’ Happily disentangling herself, Nuala reeled across the kitchen and peered at the frying pan crowded with bacon. ‘God, you have no idea how hungry I am. Any chance of a couple of fried eggs with that?’

Chapter 29

At lunchtime on Monday Marcella arrived at the Peach Tree. Maddy’s car wasn’t outside, which meant she was still out on her delivery round, but patience had never been one of Marcella’s strong points.

Juliet was delighted to see her. Coming out from behind the counter she said, ‘Maddy told me.

Congratulations! How are you feeling?’

‘Fine. Thanks. I need to ask you something,’ said Marcella with characteristic bluntness.

‘Fire away. What, about pregnancy? You think you’ll never get over the morning sickness, but you do.’

‘Not about pregnancy. About Kerr McKinnon.’

‘Oh!’ The colour abruptly rushed to Juliet’s cheeks. ‘Well .. . I couldn’t ... it’s not for me to say.’

Taken aback by the vehemence of her response, Marcella said, ‘Of course it is.’

Clearly appalled, Juliet shook her head. ‘Really, I can’t. You’ll have to talk to Maddy.’ Her voice wavering, she said faintly, ‘How on earth did you find out?’

‘Does it matter?’ Still mystified by the extent of Juliet’s reaction, Marcella experienced a pang of deep unease. ‘Why don’t you tell me when it started?’

‘I can’t, I can’t, but I know Maddy never meant to hurt you,’ babbled Juliet, who normally never babbled. ‘It was just one of those things ... they met each other and that was it. But she’s going to finish with him, I promise.’

On her way back from Bath, Maddy drove over the brow of Ashcombe Hill and saw Marcella heading towards her. From the armful of flowers her mother was carrying, she knew that Marcella was on her way to visit April’s grave, something she still liked to do on a weekly basis. Slowing to a halt as she reached her, Maddy swung open the passenger door and said, ‘I thought you were supposed to be taking things easy. Jump in and I’ll give you a lift.’ Pausing, she added, ‘Mum, are you OK?’ because Marcella was looking strained and distant, decidedly unlike her usual easygoing self.

But all Marcella did was nod, clutching the huge bunch of freshly picked honeysuckle, roses and ox-eye daisies to her chest.

The churchyard was deserted, the air hot and dry. Birds sang in the trees, but otherwise the silence was absolute. Marcella, still without speaking, cleared away the old flowers from April’s grave, rinsed out the steel water-holder and carefully arranged the fresh blooms in their place. Maddy had never seen her mother like this before; she was normally chatty and eternally cheerful. Was it something to do with the pregnancy, the risk of losing this longed-for baby as heartbreakingly as they had lost April eleven years ago?

Marcella was kneeling by the grave with her back to her. Maddy reached out and touched her on the shoulder.

‘Mum? Tell me what’s wrong.’

Slowly Marcella rose to her feet.

‘That’s April in there. Your sister.’

‘I know,’ said Maddy gently. Oh dear, she’d never heard Marcella sound so subdued; her hormones were clearly running riot.

The next moment Marcella did something far less subdued. Raising her hand, she slapped Maddy hard across the face.

‘April, your sister, is dead,’ Marcella shouted furiously. ‘And you’re carrying on with Kerr McKinnon as if she never even existed! You have no shame, do you hear me? I don’t know how you can live with yourself. Of all the men in the world, you had to get involved with him!’

Oh Lord. Maddy felt sick. Marcella had never laid a finger on her in her life. She should have ended it with Kerr while she still had the chance. Wide-eyed with shock, she took a step back before Marcella could slap her again.

‘I’m ashamed of you,’ Marcella raged, shaking her head in disgust. ‘This is your family, don’t you think you owe your sister a bit more loyalty than that?’

‘Kerr wasn’t the one driving the car.’ Maddy knew even as she said it that any form of argument was hopeless. ‘He didn’t kill anyone.’

‘I DON’T CARE!’ bellowed Marcella. ‘The McKinnons treated us like dirt, I can’t believe you even—’

‘I won’t see him again,’ Maddy blurted out, because what other choice did she have? This time, for Marcella’s sake, it had to happen. She couldn’t put it off any longer. Trembling, meeting Marcella’s icy gaze, she nodded and said, ‘I mean it, I’ll never see him again, just don’t shout any more, you know what the doctor said about staying calm and not getting worked up.’

‘Promise me.’ Marcella reached urgently for Maddy’s hands.

What else could she do?

‘I promise,’ whispered Maddy.

That was it; all over now.

Marcella hugged her, tears spilling from her luminous dark eyes.

‘You don’t need someone like that. Come on, let’s go home.’

As she followed Marcella back through the sun-dappled graveyard, Maddy thought, Oh, but I do.

Checking her watch – twenty to two – Maddy dropped Marcella home and headed back into the centre of Ashcombe. Juliet wasn’t expecting her back in the shop before two. Pulling up alongside Snow Cottage, she saw Jake sitting at one of the tables in front of the pub, drinking a pint of orange juice and chatting to Malcolm, who sold his surreal paintings from the workshop next to his. By sitting outside, they were able to take a lunch break and keep an eye out for passing potential customers.

Fury boiled up inside Maddy at the unfairness of it all. How dare bloody Jake sit there without a care in the world when her own life was collapsing around her ears?

Leaping out onto the pavement, slamming the driver’s door so hard it almost parted company with the car, she marched across the road.

Did you tell Marcella?’

Jake looked up, surprised.

‘Tell Marcella about what?’

‘So you didn’t?’ said Maddy, double-checking. She wasn’t about to make that mistake again.

Comprehension dawned. Jake, his eyebrows shooting up, said, ‘You mean she found out about Kerr McKinnon?’

Right, that was all the confirmation she needed. Marching past him into the pub, Maddy saw Kate behind the bar, wearing a lime-green sleeveless linen top and her customary superior smirk.

‘Well done,’ Maddy said loudly, not caring that there were customers in the pub. Since there was no longer any secret to keep, she could be as loud as she jolly well liked.

Turning, Kate said, ‘Excuse me?’ in that irritatingly disinterested way of hers.

‘I asked you not to tell Marcella and you told her. I explained why I asked you not to tell her,’

Maddy went on furiously, ‘but you went ahead and did it anyway.’

‘I—’

‘What the bloody hell’s going on?’ Dexter, his eyes flashing, had loomed up behind Kate.

‘Ask your new barmaid,’ Maddy spat back, aware that everyone was staring at the red, hand-shaped slap mark Marcella had imprinted on her cheek. ‘But let me just say, if my mother doesn’t have a miscarriage it’ll be no thanks to her.’ Pointing a trembling finger at Kate, who was looking gobsmacked and clearly hadn’t expected to be confronted like this in public, she went on, ‘My God, I knew you didn’t like me, but even I never thought you’d sink this low. I mean, it doesn’t matter that you’ve ruined my life, but how you could do this to Marcella, I’ll never know.’

It was just as well there weren’t any customers in the deli. Maddy was sitting on a crate in the back room shaking uncontrollably, raging against the world and knocking back a miniature of Amaretto.

Jake, strolling into the shop, said, ‘Well, I hope you’re proud of yourself.’

‘Oh, bugger off, don’t you start.’ Maddy glared at him. ‘She deserved it.’

‘Did she? I’ve just been to see Marcella.’

‘Oh no.’ Juliet, who had been attempting to console Maddy, said, ‘You mean it wasn’t Kate?’

The look of disdain on Jake’s face began to make Maddy feel queasy. ‘It has to have been her. It definitely couldn’t be Nuala, not after last time.’

‘At midday, Marcella was doing exactly what the doctor had told her to do,’ said Jake. ‘She was taking things easy, relaxing, just having a cup of tea and watching the local lunchtime news. When up came a piece on careers for school leavers, and guess whose company they were featuring today?’

Maddy’s mouth was dry. There had been no cameras around while she’d been in the offices of Callaghan and Fox last Friday.

‘I know. It’s where Kerr works,’ she told Jake. ‘So? It’s not as if he keeps a photo of me on his desk.’

‘Maybe not, but several of the staff had stuff from here on their desks,’ said Jake. ‘Marcella recognised the blue and white wrappers at once.’

He was being deliberately maddening, Maddy decided. ‘And? That doesn’t prove anything.’

‘Oh my God,’ whispered Juliet, her hand sliding from Maddy’s shoulder. ‘Oh no, please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.’

Her dark eyes were fixed on Jake, willing him to come up with a happier alternative.

Signalling regret, he shook his head.

‘What?’ Maddy demanded. ‘What?’

Faintly, Juliet said, ‘It was me.’

‘WHAT?’

‘The wrappers didn’t prove you were having an affair with Kerr McKinnon,’ said Jake, ‘but they were certainly enough to bring Marcella down here, demanding to know what this deli was doing supplying sandwiches to his company, when just the other day you swore you had no idea where he worked.’

‘I’m sorry,’ groaned Juliet. ‘The way Marcella said it, I thought she already knew everything.’

‘Oh hell.’ Maddy buried her head in her hands. ‘I don’t believe this is happening.’

‘I’m really sorry,’ Juliet repeated helplessly.

‘Not you. It was an accident. I suppose something like this was bound to happen sooner or later.’ Maddy reached across and clumsily hugged Juliet, who was looking utterly distraught. ‘I just can’t bear the thought of having to apologise to Miss Smirky-knickers.’

‘You’re going to have to,’ said Jake, so reasonably that Maddy longed to punch him.

Abruptly, all the adrenalin seeped out of her body and delayed shock set in. Her eyes filling with tears of exhaustion, she said, ‘I know I do. Oh fuck.’

Chapter 30

Kate was doing her best to carry on working, but it wasn’t going well. Aware of Dexter’s beady gaze upon her, she fumbled in the till drawer for change and handed it over to Abel Trippick, whose eyes promptly widened with delight. As he scuttled away from the bar clutching his pint of Blackthorn, Dexter said, ‘You just gave him eight quid change from a fiver.’

‘Sorry.’ Swallowing hard, Kate began clearing away empties. ‘I’ll pay you back.’

‘I thought you were more than a match for Maddy Harvey.’

‘So did I. Oh God—’ Kate made a grab for one of the half-pint mugs as it slipped out of her hand, but it was too late. The glass shattered on the flagstones and she braced herself for the inevitable explosion of fury from Dexter.

Instead, his tone conversational, Dexter said, ‘If I shout at you, will you shout back?’

Blindly, Kate shook her head. No.’ It came out as a croak, like a frog phoning in sick.

‘Oh well, no point in bothering then. Shift your bottom,’ Dexter said brusquely, and tears began to slide down Kate’s cheeks as she realised he was kneeling down, wielding a dustpan and brush and clearing up the mess.

Then she jumped as a warm hand came to rest on her arm and a familiar voice said, ‘Hey, it’s all right.’

Could have fooled me, thought Kate as Jake peered over the bar and said to Dexter, ‘It’s almost closing time. OK if I take this one home with me?’

Dexter straightened up. Finally he shrugged. ‘May as well. She’s not much use here.’

‘Who says I want to go home with you?’ Kate looked truculent, but it was a token show of protest. Flashing a grin, Jake raised the wooden flap that formed part of the bar and drew her through to his side.

‘OK, here’s the thing. Maddy shouldn’t have shouted at you, she knows she has to apologise, but she’s in a bit of a state right now, what with everything hitting the fan the way it did. So if you wouldn’t mind, she’d like to make her grovelling apologies later.’ As he spoke, he was leading her towards the door.

Kate said suspiciously, ‘So why are you taking me home?’

‘Because damsels in distress are my speciality. Besides,’ Jake gestured over the road to where Malcolm was now sitting with a sketchpad outside his workshop, ‘any excuse for an afternoon off.’

Dauncey House was cool and empty, with Oliver up in London as usual and Estelle off on one of her periodic half-hearted health and fitness kicks. This involved paying a visit to the ruinously expensive gym to which she belonged, gingerly attempting a few exercises on the less terrifying machines, then greeting her female friends with delight and repairing to the terrace for a good gossip over salad and a Diet Coke. Since this left them feeling every bit as virtuous as two hours on the treadmill, and involved far less sweating, it was a popular pastime amongst the wealthy wives who went there during the afternoon. Estelle was unlikely to be back before five.

‘Hey, damsel, you’ve got mascara on your cheeks.’

They were in the kitchen. Kate instinctively made a move towards the downstairs cloakroom to wash her face, but Jake stopped her. Running a piece of kitchen towel under the tap, he drew her towards him and gently rubbed at the black marks under her eyes. Realising that he was removing the carefully applied scar concealer at the same time, Kate tried to pull away but Jake shook his head and said,

‘Don’t be silly, it’s fine. You’re not as scary as you think.’

He was so close to her now. She couldn’t bring herself to look at his face, but he smelled of shampoo and outdoors and, very faintly, acrylic varnish. Kate was under his spell; she normally removed her mascara with Clinique cleanser at twenty quid a tube and supersoft cotton wool pads. Yet here was Jake Harvey rubbing away at her delicate under-eye areas with a wodge of wet kitchen towel –

and she didn’t want him to stop.

‘Not as tough as you like to make out either,’ Jake observed and she felt her throat tighten. He was being so kind.

‘It’s not much fun being accused of something you didn’t do.’ Kate shook her head. ‘I would never have told Marcella.’

‘I know that.’

‘But Maddy didn’t. That’s what really got to me, I think. She seriously thought I had. I mean, I know we don’t get on,’ Kate blurted out, ‘but I wouldn’t risk Marcella losing the baby, would I? I’d never do that!’

‘Damsel, calm down. I told you, Maddy’s going to apologise. She’s not having the best time right now. Crikey, none of us are having the best time.’ Jake rolled his eyes. ‘Let me tell you, it’s no picnic sharing a house with Nuala. When she isn’t bleating on about Dexter and how she’s never going to get another boyfriend, she’s asking me to help her on with her trainers. It’s like living with a three-year-old all over again.’

Kate felt a pang of solidarity with Nuala; she often wondered if she’d ever find another boyfriend herself.

‘Anyway, how about you?’ said Jake, changing the subject as they made their way through to the conservatory. ‘You’ve been back a few weeks now. Looks to me as though you’ve settled right in.’

‘Kind of,’ Kate conceded. Certainly, she’d never imagined herself working in the pub and, more astounding still, actually enjoying it.

‘You’re a natural behind that bar.’ Collapsing onto one of the squashy lime-green sofas, Jake patted the space next to him. ‘I bet you never thought it would be that easy to get back to normal.’

‘Normal?’ Kate’s laughter was hollow. How could he possibly think her life was back to normal?

‘Isn’t it? Oh, come on,’ Jake protested, ‘you’re doing brilliantly. Nobody in the pub even notices your scars any more.’

‘My accident happened fourteen months ago. I haven’t been kissed by a man since then, let alone had sex with one. How normal do you suppose that feels?’ The moment she’d finished blurting the words out, Kate wished she hadn’t. What’s more, how on earth could Jake be expected to have an inkling how it felt? He’d probably never gone without sex for as long as fourteen days.

He was definitely looking flummoxed.

‘Sorry.’ Kate gazed at the floor. ‘Shouldn’t have said that.’

‘Are you serious? Nothing at all? Not even in New York?’ Ha, especially in New York.

‘I think I’d have noticed.’

‘But why not?’ Jake was genuinely concerned.

‘Why d’you think? Who’d look at my face and be overcome with lust?’ Irritated, Kate said, ‘People see my scars and they run a mile.’

‘Wrong.’ Jake was shaking his head.

‘Don’t patronise me. I know what I look like.’

‘People see you with your defences up, snapping and snarling and not giving an inch, and that’s why they run a mile. Trust me, it’s not your face that scares them off,’ Jake said bluntly. ‘It’s you.’

‘Well, thanks.’ Kate’s jaw tightened.

‘Just being honest, damsel.’ Unperturbed by her frosty manner, Jake said mischievously, ‘So, feel like giving it a go?’

Kate stopped breathing; she actually felt her lungs freeze in mid-flow.

‘What?’

His eyes danced. ‘You heard.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Of course you do.’

Kate was tingling all over with furious indignation. How dare Jake suggest such a thing? This was outrageous ... and what exactly did he mean, anyway? Was he talking about a kiss or ... well, other stuff?

Oh good grief, what would that be like? Lust shot through her like a bolt of lightning. And all the time Jake was sitting there watching her, utterly relaxed and laid-back, smiling his irresistible boyish smile. In all seriousness, what did he expect her to say?

‘Fine. I’ll take that as a no then.’ Jake shrugged good- naturedly and Kate heard a squeak of protest escape — completely involuntarily — from her throat.

‘Or maybe ... a maybe?’ said Jake.

Kate’s cheeks began to burn. In fact her whole body felt as if it was on fire and her imagination was working on fast forward. This was excruciating, and now she really was going to have to say something.

‘Er... I didn’t know what you meant exactly.’ Floundering, she saw Jake’s mouth twitch.

His oh-so-beautiful mouth, so perfect it looked as if it had been chiselled from marble.

‘You mean was I talking about kissing you? Or the whole bed thing?’

Trust Jake to come straight out and say it. Her toes practically bent double with embarrassment, Kate nodded.

‘Well, that’s completely up to you. Whatever you decide. Or,’ Jake offered, ‘we could start off with a kiss and see how you feel.’

Kate’s heart was hammering against her ribs; she already knew how she felt. Then an awful thought struck her. ‘And you’d want money?’

Jake smiled and shook his head. ‘Damsel, I’m not a gigolo. I don’t charge.’

‘So, um, why are you doing this?’

His smile broadened. ‘I’m not volunteering to empty cesspits here. It’s hardly an arduous task we’re talking about. I love sex. You’re a beautiful girl with a hang-up about your face, who hasn’t had sex for over a year. I mean, I didn’t have a university education, but isn’t there a simple solution here?’

Oh God, oh God. Kate was lost for words. Staring blindly at the black and white tiled floor, she felt Jake’s hand stroke the back of her neck.

‘I like you,’ he said softly. ‘Believe me, it wouldn’t be an ordeal. It would be a pleasure.’

After that, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Since Norris was outside in the back garden and the sight of him pressing his slobbering jowls against the conservatory windows just might kill the moment, Kate led Jake upstairs to her room. Trembling, she allowed him to undress her. And kiss her. And run his hands over her naked body. And make love to her.

He was right, too, about it not being an ordeal. The next two hours were nothing but glorious technicoloured pleasure.

Chapter 31

‘Right. Fun’s over.’ Fastening his shirt, Jake bent over the bed and planted a warm, lingering kiss on Kate’s mouth. ‘Back to the real world. Orders to take, caskets to deliver.’

Feeling bereft already, Kate said, ‘Malcolm’s looking after the business. You don’t have to go.’

Was that needy? She didn’t care.

‘I do.’ Jake kissed her again. ‘Have to pick Sophie up. You were amazing. What a way to spend an afternoon.’

Needy was one thing, but begging quite another. Resisting the almost uncontrollable urge to ask when she’d see him again, Kate smiled and stretched like a cat.

‘You were pretty amazing yourself.’ She couldn’t stop smiling, actually; great waves of happiness kept swooshing over her, she hadn’t known it was possible to feel this fantastic.

‘Good.’ Jake straightened up and headed for the door. ‘I’ll let myself out. And don’t forget, Maddy’ll be round later.’

‘Maddy.’ Kate pulled a face.

‘Hey, she’s sorry. And she’s having a tough time. Go easy on her,’ Jake said gently.

He blew her a kiss and left.

Hmm. Settling back against the mass of pillows, Kate pictured herself going easy on Maddy Harvey.

Oh yes, and pigs might perform aerial acrobatics.

Then again, then again .. .

By five thirty, Kate had had a major re-think. It was completely ridiculous, carrying on a childhood feud for no other reason than that each of them was too stubborn to apologise. It made matters awkward whenever their paths crossed. Neither of them stood to gain anything from it. The only mature, sensible thing to do, surely, was to forgive Maddy and heal the rift.

Plus, she was Jake’s sister.

Saying sorry to Kate Taylor-Trent should have been an excruciating prospect, but nothing was as bad as having to phone Kerr to tell him it was over, that from now on they wouldn’t see each other any more, ever again.

‘Ever?’ Kerr queried. ‘How about next year, after the baby’s born? Couldn’t we try again then?’

Maddy heaved a sigh; she’d thought of that too. But what were the chances of Kerr still being interested and available then? By next year, any girl with an ounce of sense would have snapped him up.

More importantly, he’d still be a McKinnon. Nothing in the world could change that. Some families, Maddy knew, fought like cat and dog. She’d seen enough episodes of Jerry Springer to know that plenty of mothers and daughters hurled abuse at each other and didn’t care how much pain they caused because they genuinely couldn’t stand the sight of each other. They were happy to be estranged, living their own separate lives, carrying on without exchanging so much as a word for years.

But she could never do that to Marcella. They may not be related by blood, but Marcella had devoted her life to her stepchildren and they’d loved and adored her in return. Becoming estranged simply wasn’t an option.

‘I can’t,’ said Maddy, her chest aching with suppressed grief. ‘We can’t. I’m sorry, I just ...’

‘Can’t.’ Kerr finished the sentence she was incapable of finishing herself. ‘OK, I understand. Take care. Bye.’

‘Bye,’ Maddy whispered, but the line had already gone dead.

That was it, all over.

Done.

‘Gosh, this is a surprise!’ Estelle, answering the front door of Dauncey House, was clearly bemused by the sight of Maddy on her doorstep. Then her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh no, not bad news, something hasn’t happened to—’

‘Mum’s fine,’ Maddy said quickly. Nothing’s happened to the baby. I’m here to see, um, Kate.

Is she around?’

Still mystified, Estelle said, ‘Well, yes, but she’s in the bath. Why don’t you wait in the sitting room and I’ll tell her you’re here.’

‘It’s all right,’ came a voice from the top of the staircase, causing both Estelle and Maddy to turn and look up. ‘I already know.’

Straight from the bath, wearing an ivory silk dressing gown and with her dark hair slicked back from her face, Kate led the way into the sitting room. It was the first time Maddy had seen her without make-up. Minus the concealing foundation her scars were more noticeable – that went without saying –

but the effect wasn’t as shocking as she’d imagined. With her renewed air of confidence, Kate was somehow managing to carry it off.

‘Sit down,’ said Kate. ‘Drink?’

Maddy shook her head. As soon as she’d said what she’d come to say, she was out of here.

‘No thanks, I’m fine. Look, we both know what this is about,’ Maddy blurted out. ‘I’m sorry, OK?

Really and truly sorry. First I accused Nuala of telling Jake about me and Kerr, and I was wrong. Then I accused you of telling Marcella and that was wrong too. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson by now, wouldn’t you? Anyway, I apologise. From the bottom of my heart. I should never have said it, and I’m sorry you were upset.’ Trailing off with a helpless shrug, Maddy forced herself to meet Kate’s stony gaze. ‘That’s it really. I’m just sorry.’

Silence.

Finally Kate said, ‘OK. Apology accepted. But you were lying about one thing.’

Oh God. A wave of exhaustion swept through Maddy. She simply wasn’t up to a heated debate.

‘What was I lying about?’

‘You said, "No thanks, I’m fine," and it isn’t true. You look terrible,’ Kate went on with characteristic bluntness. ‘You’re as white as a ghost — and look at your eyes, you’re in a complete state.’

‘Well, thanks.’ Delighted to have this pointed out to her, Maddy retorted, ‘And who says ghosts are white anyway? They don’t all go around with sheets over their heads, you know.’

Unbelievable. In less than a minute flat they were sniping at each other again like a pair of twelve-year-olds. Once upon a time, of course, they had used white sheets in order to dress up as ghosts on Halloween night and wreak havoc around the village.

Astonishingly, instead of launching into a counter-attack, Kate’s tone softened.

‘Don’t take offence. I’m just saying it’s pretty obvious you aren’t fine. And I’m sorry too, OK? For the hard time I gave you years ago. Ridgelow Hall may have taught me how to speak like an It-girl and flirt in Italian, but it turned me into a right stuck-up little bitch. I’m not proud of the way I treated you.’ As she spoke, Kate’s fingers were clenching and unclenching in her lap. ‘I said some really horrible things about the way you looked ... well, I’m sure you remember." Remember? The horrible things were etched in sulphuric acid into her heart. ‘Rings a bell,’ said Maddy, still finding it hard to believe that Kate was actually apologising for all the hurt she’d inflicted over the years.

‘Well, I got my come-uppance there, didn’t I?’ Kate raised her hand to the left side of her face.

‘You must have laughed your head off when you heard what had happened to me.’

‘I didn’t laugh,’ Maddy protested. ‘I’d never laugh.’

‘ But?’ prompted Kate.

Oh well, it wasn’t as if she was saying something Kate hadn’t already figured out for herself. She’d never been stupid.

‘But I did think that now you’d know how it felt.’ There, confession over, she’d admitted it.

‘I don’t blame you. I was such a cow.’ Wryly Kate gestured towards Maddy. ‘And see how the ugly duckling turned out. Look at you now,’ she said bluntly. ‘Who’d have thought it?’

Gazing down at her yellow sandals, rather too bright against the tasteful bottle-green carpet of the sitting room, Maddy said, ‘For all the good it’s done me,’ and felt her eyes prickle with tears. Oh no, she mustn’t start crying again, not here.

‘ You’ve finished with Kerr then,’ said Kate.

Maddy nodded. ‘No choice.’

‘I would never have told Marcella, you know.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be sorry. It’s my own fault. When you asked me not to say anything, I shouldn’t have let you think I might.’ Kate paused. ‘Are you feeling as bad as you look?’

Maddy’s bottom lip began to tremble. ‘Worse. Damn, I don’t make a habit of blubbing all over the place ... oh, thanks.’ She reached blindly for a tissue from the box Kate was holding in front of her. ‘I just can’t believe my bad luck. Years and years of being ugly and boys taking the mickey out of me, then getting less scary and going out but never finding the right chap, then finally finding someone and really falling in love for the f-first time ... and I can’t have him. It’s not allowed. I don’t know, it j just doesn’t seem fair somehow .. . oh bugger, can I have another tissue?’

‘Here,’ said Kate, ‘better keep the box.’

Chapter 32

An hour later they headed together down Gypsy Lane. It was seven o’clock, time for Kate to begin her evening shift at the Angel. Dressed in a geranium-red sleeveless shift dress and high heels, with her face now carefully made up for the benefit of the punters, Kate was looking tall, glamorous and – from this angle – flawless. Next to her, moping along in her frayed denim jacket, old jeans and flat yellow sandals, Maddy felt inferior all over again.

‘Well, this is weird.’

‘Us, you mean?’ Kate turned her head and smiled, revealing her scarred side. ‘Actually speaking to each other again?’

‘And all thanks to Kerr.’ Maddy pulled out her dark glasses as they approached Main Street, acutely aware that her eyes were bulging like a bullfrog’s. ‘So he came in useful after all, that’s good news. I’m sure he’d be pleased.’

‘I’m pleased,’ said Kate. ‘It’s not been much fun being back here in the village, knowing nobody liked me.’

‘Not nobody.’ Maddy shook her head. ‘Jake didn’t care how I felt. He liked you straight away.’

‘Really?’ Flushing with pleasure, Kate said, ‘But I was so prickly with him.’

‘Oh well, that’s Jake for you. Always up for a challenge.’

And thank goodness he had been. Smiling to herself, Kate felt her heart begin to quicken at the memory of their time in bed together this afternoon – and the thought of the next time, tomorrow with any luck. She couldn’t wait for a repeat performance.

‘Coming in for a drink?’

Maddy glanced across the road at the pub, then shook her head. ‘Not tonight. Hey, did you ever see this?’

Kate turned; Maddy was making her way over to the old bench next to the bus stop. Following her, she watched as Maddy searched the wooden slats for a moment before finding what she was looking for.

‘Here we are.’

Peering down to where Maddy was pointing, Kate saw the words gouged into the wood amongst the mass of graffiti carved over the years.

‘Kate T-T is a cow,’ Kate read aloud.

‘I can remember exactly when I did it,’ said Maddy. ‘September. We’d just started back at school after the summer holidays and I was here one morning waiting for the bus. Then you sauntered past with one of your posh friends, on your way to the shop. Bear in mind that you were both wearing stretchy halter-neck tops and tiny skirts, while I was in my six-sizes-too-big maroon school uniform. And you turned to your friend and said, "God, back to school already, who’d be a pleb?

‘I remember that!’ Kate nodded energetically. ‘We still had another ten days of holiday; we fl—’

‘It’s OK,’ said Maddy when Kate stopped abruptly, ‘you can say it. You flew down to the south of France and spent a week on your friend’s dad’s yacht.’ Drily she added, ‘You boasted about it when you got back.’

‘You’re right, I was a cow.’ Kate marvelled that the wonkily carved accusation had been on show all these years, clearly visible to anyone who’d ever sat on this bench waitingfor the bus. Never having caught a bus in her life, she would not have known it was here. ‘What are you doing?’ she exclaimed as Maddy took her Swiss Army knife keyring out of her bag and began energetically digging away at the bench.

‘Changing it. Bringing it up to date.’ Working at speed with the sharp blade, Maddy brushed away the loosened paint flakes and sat back to show Kate the finished job. Instead of Kate T-T is a cow, it now said Kate T-T was a cow.

They gazed at each other in silence for several seconds, then simultaneously burst out laughing.

‘Absolutely disgraceful,’ a male voice barked behind them. Turning, Maddy and Kate saw a couple of middle-aged rambler types in matching baggy khaki shorts and Save the Countryside Tshirts.

‘I know,’ said Kate, ‘it’s outrageous.’

Infuriated, the male rambler boomed, ‘Defacing public property, wanton vandalism. You should be ashamed of yourselves.’

‘I am,’ Kate told the man who was by this time puce in the face, ‘but I’m feeling better now.

Anyway, it isn’t vandalism,’ she added with a sweet smile. ‘It’s local history.’

Fantasy time.

After the best night’s sleep she could remember, Kate was lying in the bath with bubbles up to her ears and a blissful grin on her face that wouldn’t go away. What a magical day yesterday had turned out to be. What a day today would hopefully turn out to be – heavens, from now on anything could happen.

Closing her eyes to make visualising it easier, Kate conjured up a Christmassy picture not dissimilar to the final moments of It’s A Wonderful Life. There was Jake with one arm round her and the other round Sophie – actually, no, because then she and Sophie would be separated; far better to have Sophie in the middle, hugging them both and being hugged in return to show how happy they were. Anyway, so there they were, all together, just like a proper family – and if she and Jake ended up getting married there’d be no problem with warring in-laws because Estelle and Marcella got on brilliantly together, and she and Maddy had put their silly differences behind them. God, this was the best fantasy ever, and it could actually come true- Yeek, phone, that was probably Jake now!

Racing downstairs with bath bubbles cascading down her body and a towel hastily slung round her middle section, Kate skidded breathlessly into the kitchen.

‘Was that for me?’

Estelle, eating toast and compiling a shopping list, looked surprised.

‘No, darling. Will Gifford just rang, he’s coming down this afternoon.’

Wrong answer. Completely wrong answer. Who gave a toss about bumbling Will Gifford?

‘Expecting a call?’ said Estelle.

No wonder she sounds amazed, Kate thought. What with me and my action-packed social life.

‘Not really.’ Realising she was dripping water and foam onto the kitchen floor, Kate said, ‘I’ll go and get dressed.’

‘Darling, I’m so glad you and Maddy are friends again.’

Kate nodded; Estelle had in fact got quite tearful last night at the thought of happy endings all round.

Not that her mother knew yet about the particular happy ending she had in mind for herself and Jake.

Struggling to contain a giveaway smirk, Kate said, ‘Me too.’

By eleven o’clock she was setting off down Gypsy Lanewith a bounce in her step and a fully-fledged plan in her brain. Because basically, why hang about waiting for Jake to ring when she was perfectly capable of making things happen herself? Even Norris seemed more cheerful this morning, jauntily ambling along, exploring the hedgerows and almost – but not quite – breaking into a run when he spotted Bean cavorting outside Jake’ s workshop.

Even our dogs get on, Kate thought joyfully, what could be more perfect than that?

It was cooler than yesterday, with an overcast sky and the threat of rain in the air. Instead of sitting outside his workshop with his shirt off, Jake was inside wearing a pale grey lambswool sweater and jeans. He was working on a casket, painstakingly brushing varnish over a transferred painting of a snowy mountain range.

Looking up as Kate entered the workshop, he flicked his sunstreaked blond hair out of his eyes and flashed his trademark dazzling smile.

‘Hi.’

He loves me.

‘Hi.’ Kate felt herself go fizzy all over; when a man smiled at you like that, you knew that yesterday had meant something extra-special. ‘Listen, what are you doing tonight?’

This was Jake’s cue to do his sparkly-eyed thing and murmur flirtatiously, ‘I don’t know, what am I doing tonight? You tell me.’

Instead he said, ‘I’ve been bullied into taking Sophie to the cinema to see the new Spiderman movie. I must be mad, the last one scared me witless.’ He pulled a face. ‘But that’s Soph for you. What can you do with a girl who has three pairs of Spiderman pyjamas?’

‘Well, it’s my night off,’ said Kate, ‘so why don’t we all go? Then I can hold your hand during the scary bits.’

‘It’s good of you to offer, but it’s Spiderman.’ Jake shrugged good-naturedly. ‘Hardly your kind of thing. You wouldn’t enjoy it.’

Actually, this was a fair point. Not that she wouldn’t enjoy sitting in the darkened cinema holding Jake’s hand, but as a breed, movies starring comic-book heroes left her cold.

‘OK, better idea. I’ll meet up with you after the cinema and we’ll go for a pizza.’ Kate beamed, pleased with herself, then realised that Jake was hesitating and added hurriedly, ‘I meant all of us go for a pizza, you, me and Sophie.’

‘Kate, look, I’m sorry, but I have to say no.’

Time stood still. She wondered if she’d somehow misunderstood this last sentence; if, in fact, he was actually saying yes. But that was taking fantasy too far.

Slowly Kate said, ‘No to what? Pizza?’

‘No to all of it. Meeting up, visiting cinemas together, doing the kind of things couples do, the whole works.’ Jake shook his head. ‘Yesterday was great, OK? We both enjoyed ourselves. But that’s as far as it goes. I keep my private life and my family life separate. It wouldn’t be fair on Sophie, introducing her to an endless stream of girls, letting her think I might be getting serious about this one or that.’ He paused, then said gently, ‘Does that make sense to you?’

It made about as much sense as being hit across the face with a wet towel. This wasn’t what Kate had been expecting to hear at all.

Stunned, she said, ‘Is it because of the way I look?’

‘Oh, please. I thought we’d cured you of that. I just don’t want to confuse Sophie, that’s all. If I know I’m not going to be settling down with someone, why get her hopes up?’

What about my hopes? Kate wanted to scream, and the awful realisation that he meant what he said struck her like a stake through the heart. This was rejection of the most brutal kind, brutal because she genuinely hadn’t been expecting it.

Despising herself for being pathetic, already knowing the answer deep down but still needing to hear it from Jake’s mouth, she heard herself ask, ‘So do you want to carry on seeing me when Sophie isn’t around? Or was yesterday just a one-off?’

Jake sighed. ‘I wouldn’t have put it quite like that. But OK, it was a one-off.’

‘So you lied to me.’ There was a telltale tremor in Kate’s voice. ‘I thought you really liked me. You told me you liked me. But it was just a big lie.’

‘That’s not fair. I do like you,’ Jake said evenly. ‘But we’re never going to be a couple.’

Kate felt her fingernails digging into her palms as a glimmer of hope shone through. ‘We could be!’

Her heart raced as she realised what this was all about. ‘Is this because your family’s poor and mine are rich? Jake, it doesn’t matter a bit, I don’t care that you don’t have any money—’

‘Well, nice of you to say so,’ Jake interrupted, ‘and I’m very flattered, but it’s nothing to do with that.’

Helplessly Kate blurted out, ‘It is my face.’

‘Stop jumping to conclusions and just listen to me. And you do have to stop blaming everything on your face, by the way,’ said Jake. ‘Because, trust me, it matters to you a damn sight more than it matters to anyone else.’

‘Go on then, fire away.’ Outside the workshop, Kate could hear Norris and Bean playing, happily rolling around together – not unlike Jake and herself yesterday afternoon. Now, fiddling with the button of her thin navy jacket, she said, ‘What, then?’

‘It’s quite simple,’ said Jake. ‘When you fall in love with someone, it doesn’t happen because you want it to. Sometimes it’s the last thing you want – crikey, look at the mess Maddy’s got herself into – but you don’t have any kind of control over it. It just happens.’ He paused, and there was compassion – or sadness – in his green eyes. ‘Or not, as the case may be.’

And that was that. Stung by the rejection, Kate stalked back up the hill to Dauncey House at such a rate that poor Norris’s paws barely touched the ground.

So much for having thought she might actually be about to discover how it felt to be happy. Now she was back to square one, all over again.