by Jill Mansell
“Be subtle,” said Tula.
Together they watched him turn and make his way back to join Bonnie and Jem.
“Thanks,” Sophie murmured.
“’S okay. Poor kid. I bet she feels like I always did around Imi’s friends. But worse.”
“That’s what I thought.”
They watched as the minders set up the badminton net. To give Cal his due, he did a good job of casually looking around before wandering over to Alice and her companions. After chatting to them for a couple minutes, he said something to Alice that caused the other two girls to stiffen in disbelief.
“Oh yes,” Tula whispered triumphantly. “Bingo.”
And while Alice finished double-checking that it wasn’t a joke and he really did mean her, the expressions on her friends’ faces said it all. Reaching out a tanned arm, Cal helped her to her feet. Then he led her over to join his fellow band members, who greeted her with cheery enthusiasm and handed her the fourth badminton racket.
“I feel like a proud mum,” Sophie said twenty minutes later. Alice was acquitting herself surprisingly well on the makeshift badminton court. She was also visibly having the time of her life, while a short distance away her friends sat with their cans of drink, hunched over, bristling with jealousy, and pretending not to watch.
When the game was over, Alice said something to Cal and he beckoned her friends over to join them. They posed for photos together, using their cell phones, and chatted for a minute or two before the members of Go Destry each gave Alice a hug and a kiss, then left the beach.
Half an hour later, Alice paused beside Sophie and Tula on her way to the café again. Without preamble she said, “Did you make him do it?”
“We didn’t make him do it.” Sophie shrugged. “Just wondered if he’d like to.”
Alice beamed. “That’s so nice of you. Thanks. This has been the best day of my life.”
Chapter 42
Heavy traffic on the M5 meant it had taken three hours to reach Bristol. Josh had spent the entire journey thinking about Sophie and wondering what he was going to say when he came face-to-face with her ex-husband.
Assuming that Theo Pargeter was her ex-husband. For all he knew, they could still be married.
Anyway, almost there. Yesterday’s planned visit had been canceled by the arrival of Bonnie, Jem, and Cal. Which had been frustrating at the time, but never mind. That was then, this was now.
Less than a kilometer to go. In the glove compartment, Josh’s phone beeped with a message. He carried on down the road, then turned left at the mini roundabout.
And there it was, the entrance to the business, looking just as it had on the website. Rather than drive in through the gates, he parked outside and climbed out of the car. Took a few deep breaths. What if Theo refused to talk to him when he learned why he was here?
Once through the gates, he saw that there was a small house to the left, the shop to the right. There were no cars in the parking area and the high fence surrounding the outdoor garden was padlocked shut.
The shop wasn’t open either. A handwritten note taped to the door announced:
Sorry, due to unforeseen circumstances we are closed today. Open again as usual tomorrow. Apologies for any inconvenience caused. T. P.
Inconvenience? Any inconvenience caused? Why ever would he think he might be causing any inconvenience?
Shit.
Just to be sure, Josh crossed the deserted parking area to the house and rang the doorbell. No reply.
If he’d come yesterday, Theo Pargeter would have been here. But he hadn’t; he’d come today instead.
Oh well, nothing to be done about it. Hopefully the M5 would be clearer on the way home.
Back in the car, his phone beeped plaintively again like an abandoned baby bird. Josh leaned across, took it out of the glove compartment, and saw that Cal had sent him an email. There was a photo attached. He opened it and stared at the screen. For some utterly bizarre reason, Cal had chosen to send him a photo of himself on the beach with an arm draped casually around the shoulders of a short, plump teenager whose pink, beaming face exactly matched her too-tight T-shirt.
Cal had written: See? And she wasn’t even pretty!
Josh shook his head. God only knew what he meant by that. He’d better not have slept with her and be boasting about it.
Not that Cal’s behavior was his concern anymore. Go Destry might have given him forty-eight hours to come to a decision, but he had no intention of taking them back. Putting the band out of his mind, he switched from emails to the calendar app on his phone. So many meetings, so much on; who knew when he’d be able to get up here to Bristol again?
***
Well, this was turning into a pretty weird evening. When Tula had finished her shift, she hadn’t expected to be propositioned by Marguerite Marshall and brought here to Moor Court.
“I asked Dot. She says you’re a hard worker, good with people, conscientious.”
“Yes.” Tula nodded cautiously; was she about to be headhunted? And just how much of a nerve did Marguerite have, asking Dot to recommend someone before attempting to steal her away from the hotel?
“Not full-time,” said Marguerite, answering that unspoken question. “As and when. If people are coming here for meetings, small parties, whatever. I need someone to take their coats, organize the drinks, pass around canapés, that kind of thing. And be charming to the guests, of course. Good impressions are so important. Dot tells me your shifts are pretty flexible, so do you think you’d be interested? Because if you aren’t, I’ll ask someone else. Twelve pounds an hour,” she added.
“Brilliant. Definitely interested.” Tula nodded vigorously. “Extra money’s always good. I’d love to do it.”
“Excellent.” Marguerite gave a nod of satisfaction and said, “Now, let’s have a drink to celebrate.”
That had been over an hour ago, and she was still here. Marguerite had been asking all sorts of questions about her life, from upbringing to school days, from the different jobs she’d done to the various boyfriends she’d won and lost over the years.
“Can I ask you something?” said Tula. “Am I being interrogated?”
Marguerite smiled slightly. “Sorry, is that what I’m doing? We writers are nosy people. We like to know everything.”
Tula brightened. “Are you going to put me in a book?”
“I very much doubt it. You’re not interesting enough.”
“Thanks.”
“Just being honest. The female characters I write about are strong. They always get exactly what they want.”
“I’ve just got what I wanted.” Tula grinned. “Another job.”
“Touché.” Amused, Marguerite topped up their glasses. “Come on then, tell me some more about you.”
***
Over the limit herself, Marguerite had called Riley and asked him to drive Tula back to the hotel. When he returned, she said, “That was quick.”
“Dropped her off, drove straight back.” Riley shrugged. “Doesn’t take long.”
“I thought you might have spun it out a bit, laid on the charm. Like you usually do.”
“I’ve tried. It didn’t work. You know that.”
He’d told her, but he still hadn’t told her why. Marguerite watched him examine a fraying hole in the sleeve of his favorite faded blue sweatshirt. “I like her very much; she’s a lovely girl. I’m sure you could win her over, you know.” Encouragingly she added, “And we’ll be seeing more of her now she’s going to be helping me out here.”
There was a troubled look in his eyes. “So it’s all part of your grand plan, is it? Maybe you could go one step further and pay her to be my girlfriend.”
“Oh, darling, I’m just trying to help.” The nicer Tula had turned out to be, the guiltier Marguerite had felt. Riley was normally so sunny-n
atured; she’d never seen him like this before.
“Well, you can’t help.” He shrugged. “It isn’t going to happen.”
“And it’s all my fault.”
“What?” His gaze narrowed.
“I know why she won’t take you seriously. I asked her and she told me.”
“Oh. Right.” He exhaled. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does, though.” She couldn’t bear to see him hiding his feelings. “I can see what it’s doing to you, how important this girl is.”
“Hey, don’t worry. I’m me. I’ll find someone else.”
Bravado. Did he think she was stupid? Marguerite took a deep breath and said, “If you want, you can tell her.”
Riley froze for a moment. Then he slowly shook his head. “No. We can’t do that.”
“But if she matters that much to you…”
“Tula can’t keep secrets. She told me so herself. She said she hates it, it’s too stressful, and sooner or later things end up accidentally slipping out.”
“Oh,” said Marguerite.
“But thanks for offering.” He gave her a crooked smile.
“Oh, darling. I do love you. So much.”
“I know. I love you too. Don’t worry about it.” As he headed for the office to start work, he added, “Really, I’ll be fine.”
Marguerite watched him go with a heavy, guilty heart. If she hadn’t known him so well, she might even have believed him.
Chapter 43
It was the bright corkscrew curls that did it; otherwise, Sophie might never have made the connection.
The baby she never would have recognized, chiefly because he was no longer a baby; two years on, he was a big-eyed toddler in a turquoise all-in-one swimsuit, sitting at one of the tables outside the café eating an ice-cream sundae. His older sister, who must now be five or six, was throwing bits of bread roll to the sparrows hopping around the table. She was wearing a green polka-dot sundress over her swimsuit, and her red-gold ringlets gleamed in the sunshine, bouncing around her shoulders as she flung another piece of bread across the cobbles.
Yes, it was definitely them, presumably back on vacation again with their parents. The father was finishing a cup of coffee and putting away his phone. The three of them were getting ready to leave the café; now he was dropping a couple of pound coins onto a saucer for the waitress. The moment to act was either now or never; if she didn’t say something, they’d be gone.
“Hello!” Sophie approached the children’s father. “Okay, this might sound weird, but I’ve just recognized your daughter. I took a photo of your children on the beach a couple years ago and I’d love you to have a copy of it.”
The man eyed her warily. “I don’t think we’re interested, thanks.”
“Honestly, though, it’s a brilliant photo. If I say so myself. I’m a photographer…” Rummaging in her bag for a business card, she belatedly understood his lack of enthusiasm. “Oh, I’m not trying to sell you anything! I don’t want any money. I just thought you might like it… I didn’t expect to ever see you again. I love the photo so much, it’s on my living room wall. I live just up there.” She pointed to the narrow street behind them. “Or if you’d rather just give me an email address, I could send you a copy of it.” Or maybe not. She shrugged and gave up. “But it’s okay, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. You’ve probably got enough photos anyway.”
“Am I in it?” The girl with the ringlets sounded interested.
“You are. You’re doing something very funny and a tiny bit naughty,” said Sophie. “You’re putting a bit of seaweed on your brother’s head.”
“Am I?” Delighted, she turned to her father. “I want to see the photo, Daddy. Can we go?”
He smiled at her, then at Sophie. “I thought you were selling me something. Sorry about that. I’m too suspicious by far. If the offer still stands, we’d love to see the photo. And thank you. It does sound great.”
His name was Matt, she discovered on the short walk up the hill to her flat. The children were Georgina and Jamie, and this was the sixth day of their weeklong vacation. Tomorrow they were heading back to London.
“So I found you just in time.” Sophie used the key on her silver bangle to open the front door. “Now, just up these stairs… Come on, sweetie, hold my hand… And here we are. Look, there’s the photograph. And that’s you!”
“Wow,” said Georgina. “Ha-ha-ha, look at me putting seaweed on Jamie’s head. And he doesn’t know I’m doing it, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
“And there’s Bingo.” Matt pointed to the little dog with the naughty look in his eye as he made a grab for the last sandwich on the plate.
“He’s our dog,” Georgina told Sophie. “He likes sandwiches.”
“He likes any kind of food,” Matt said drily.
“And that’s Mummy’s foot there.” Georgina’s arm shot up to point to the pedicured toes in the bottom right of the picture. “Look, Daddy! It’s Mummy’s foot!”
Matt nodded. “Yes, it is.”
Sophie had briefly been tempted to Photoshop the foot out of the picture, but had finally left it in for balance…and because Photoshop always felt like cheating. She was also wondering where Mummy was right now; she could be sunbathing on the beach or back in London. Perhaps they were divorced. They hadn’t mentioned her whereabouts and she certainly wasn’t going to ask.
“Was Mummy watching me put the seaweed on Jamie’s head?” Georgina regarded her with interest.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” As Sophie said it, she saw Matt glance down at his daughter, checking she was okay.
“Mummy’s dead,” said Georgina, staring once more at the photograph on the wall.
Oh.
Matt, who was holding Jamie on his left hip, rested his free hand on his daughter’s head.
“How awful. I’m so sorry,” said Sophie. “That’s very sad.”
“We miss her very much.” Matt acknowledged her words with a brief nod. “It happened just over a year ago.” Ruffling Georgina’s bright ringlets, he said, “Still getting used to her not being here with us, aren’t we?”
Georgina nodded too. “It’s nice seeing Mummy’s toes.”
“Well now, I’m even more glad I recognized you,” said Sophie, “so I can give you your photograph.” And reaching past them, she lifted the simply framed print down from its place on the wall. She turned to Matt. “Here you go.”
“Thank you. Very much indeed.” He inclined his head. “Only one problem: we don’t have the car with us and I have to carry Jamie back to the house we’re renting.”
“Well, I could bring it over…”
“No, no, I can come by later and pick it up. Would you be around this evening if I came by?”
Sophie nodded; was it wrong to be wondering how his wife had died? She smiled at him and said, “No problem, I’m not going anywhere. Call around anytime tonight.”
***
Matt returned shortly before eight o’clock, changed into dark trousers and a bottle-green shirt. His freshly washed hair was combed back from his face and he’d just shaved. He was also wearing nice cologne.
“Okay, so here’s the thing.” Wasting no time, he launched straight in. “We’re down here with my parents, who are babysitting tonight. As you can imagine, it hasn’t been the easiest of weeks. Georgina was telling them about you, and my mum said why didn’t I ask if you’d like to go out for something to eat this evening. Not on a date—I’m nowhere near ready for anything like that—but just as a way of thanking you for the print.” He paused, grimacing slightly. “So I’m asking you, but feel free to say no if you don’t want to. Believe me, I’ll understand. It’s hardly the most enticing offer you can think of.”
He’d stopped, run out of breath. Her heart sinking, Sophie said, “Um…right…” This was when she really needed to be able
to think up some kind of excuse, the perfect reason why she couldn’t go out to dinner with this man.
“I know. God, I’m sorry. My mother just thinks I could do with getting out of the house, spending a couple hours away from them. It’s okay, though, I can see what you’re thinking. Really, it’s fine.”
Oh dear, what a shame. I have to stay in and wash my hair…
Oh, what bad timing. I have to work tonight…
Oh no, so sorry. I’ve got friends coming over; they’ll be here any minute now…
“Let’s have dinner,” said Sophie. It was no good; this poor, poor man, how could she do it to him? Who would have the heart to turn him down?
***
By eleven o’clock, the restaurant was emptying fast.
“And you managed to stay awake the whole evening,” said Matt. “That’s going above and beyond the call of duty. Well done, you.”
Sophie grinned; it hadn’t been the ordeal she’d expected. He’d promised not to embarrass her in public by bursting into tears, and he hadn’t. As also promised, there’d been no flirting of any kind. Matt was still far too entrenched in his grief. His wife’s name had been Louisa, and he’d thought they’d spend the rest of their lives together. Then she’d become ill and died. There hadn’t been any more details than that, and Sophie hadn’t asked. Now Matt was struggling to keep things going for the sake of Georgina and Jamie. Apparently one day he would begin to feel something vaguely approaching normal again, but at the moment that was as elusive as crawling toward a mirage in a desert. Every day was an effort. The bank where he worked had been great, but he sensed that some of his colleagues were starting to lose patience with him, not because they were horrible but simply because they didn’t understand. They just wanted their old friend back to the way he’d been before.
“Anyway, thanks for keeping me company.” Having paid the bill, Matt said, “We’d better get out of here. Looks like they’re ready to close up.”
He’d driven over earlier, leaving his car parked outside Sophie’s flat, and they’d walked down to the restaurant on the harborside. Now they made their way back up the narrow, cobbled lane.