by Jill Mansell
‘Nothing.’
‘Have you been to the house since they moved in?’
She shook her head, because technically she hadn’t entered the house. ‘No, but I know it doesn’t look anything like it did in our day. People who’ve seen it say it’s very minimalist and Scandinavian, very taupe.’
‘Not my style.’ Red grimaced.
‘Nor mine, but plenty of people love what Ingrid does. She’s very in-demand. Are you hungry, by the way? I can heat up a cottage pie if you fancy it.’
‘That sounds nice. I don’t eat a lot nowadays, though. You mustn’t be offended if I can only manage a few mouthfuls.’
‘I’ll put it in the oven and you can have as much or as little as you like.’ Layla popped round after work a couple of times a week, but it would be nice to have someone else to cook for after all this time.
Rosa headed into the kitchen, but when she returned to the garden several minutes later, Red had fallen asleep in his chair. His hands were loosely clasped together in his lap, his head was tilted to one side and a lock of dark hair had fallen across his tanned forehead. The shadows and lines on his face had lessened, leaving him looking several years younger, more like his old self. He’d always been a good-looking man.
His phone rang, making them both jump. He opened his eyes. ‘Whoops, dozed off there. Shay, hi. No, no need to come over. It’s been a long day and I’m shattered.’ When he’d switched off his mobile, he looked at Rosa. ‘Sorry, I don’t think I can manage any food. Is it OK if I just go up to bed?’
‘This is your home, you don’t have to ask. You can do anything you want.’
For a moment there was a glint of something in Red’s eye, as if he were about to make some teasing comment, before stopping and thinking better of it.
‘Thank you,’ he said instead, getting slowly to his feet. ‘I’m tired, that’s all. But I’m fine.’
Harry was up early on Wednesday morning, clattering around in the kitchen. After waiting for almost ten minutes to see if he was bringing her a mug of tea in bed, Layla made her way through the flat and found him eating a bowl of Shreddies with a tablespoon.
‘Morning.’ He greeted her with a dazzling smile.
‘Oh.’ Having found a clean mug and a tea bag, she scanned the contents of the fridge. ‘Where’s my milk?’ She’d brought a fresh carton of semi-skimmed over with her yesterday.
‘Isn’t it there? Sorry, maybe I finished it.’ He looked baffled.
‘You mean it’s all in there?’ Layla pointed to the oversized bowl in his left hand. ‘But . . . why didn’t you use your soya milk?’
He shrugged. ‘I ran out.’
‘So what am I going to do?’
‘I don’t know. Drink it black?’
‘But . . . I don’t drink it black. That’s why I brought a carton of milk over.’
‘Sorry, babe.’ He put the bowl down and gave her a kiss.
‘You could run down to the Co-op and pick up some more,’ said Layla.
‘Haven’t got time. I need to be out of here by eight thirty. And so do you,’ he reminded her.
She ran the cold tap and glugged down a glass of water instead, facing the sink.
‘Oh dear, are you cross with me now? I’ll buy a carton of milk for you next time. I know, I’m a bad boyfriend.’ Harry gave her his most beguiling smile. ‘But I don’t mean to be, and I do l—’ He stopped abruptly and closed his eyes. ‘No, I mustn’t say that.’
‘Say what?’ Her heart flipped.
‘Nothing. How can I say it when I don’t even deserve you?’ He heaved a regretful sigh. ‘I really am sorry about the milk. Do you hate me now? Are you going to dump me? Please don’t dump me.’ His tone was playful as he moved closer and inhaled. ‘God, you smell amazing.’
How could she resist him? ‘OK, I won’t dump you. This time.’ Layla said it teasingly; it might only be six days since they’d first met, but their time together had passed in a whirlwind of excitement and emotion.
He laughed. ‘Thank goodness. Will I see you on Friday?’
‘Not tomorrow?’
‘Can’t. I’ve got a new client booked in.’ His arms were around her now. ‘I’d rather be with you, though.’
‘Well how about coming over to my place on Friday? You haven’t met Didi yet; we could meet up with her and Aaron.’
‘Look, I’m sure your friends are great,’ said Harry, ‘but I have to spend my days making small talk with clients. When I’m not working, I’d rather just relax. You and me alone together, here in my flat. I’m sorry if that’s too boring for you, but it’s my idea of heaven.’
Against her better judgement, Layla felt herself melting, because when someone so beautiful to look at was saying those words, it was impossible to resist. He was stroking her hair now, running a thumb along the line of her collarbone, and the look in his eyes was just—
‘Shit, is that the time? We need to get a move on.’ He gave her a brief kiss, filled with longing and regret, then pulled away. ‘Time to go.’
She’d pre-booked for Will to collect her at 8.45, but when she left the flat at 8.30, the taxi was already parked across the street and he was sitting on one of the benches at the water’s edge, enjoying the morning sunshine. Layla watched as he tore small pieces of bread from his sandwich and threw them to the ducks, then took a sip of something hot from a takeaway cup.
When he saw her, he jumped to his feet and tossed the rest of the sandwich into the river.
‘Oh you didn’t need to do that.’ She blurted the words out in protest. ‘Sit back down and finish your coffee. I’m early.’
‘Only if you’re sure. I just got back from taking a family up to Heathrow.’ He took a gulp of his drink and fanned his mouth. ‘Sorry, bit hot.’
‘Coffee?’
‘Tea.’
Layla’s mouth watered.
‘Actually, I’ll leave it,’ said Will. ‘I’ve had enough for now.’
‘Don’t throw it away,’ she yelped as he leaned towards the bin.
He looked at her. ‘Why not?’
‘It’s a waste! I mean . . .’
‘Do you want it?’
‘I wouldn’t mind.’
‘Didn’t he make you a cup of tea this morning?’
‘We ran out of milk.’ We.
‘Here, help yourself. It’s got sugar in it, can you cope with that?’
‘Perfect.’ For years she’d tried so hard to get used to tea without, but it was never as nice. Not caring that it was hot, she glugged it down. God, it was like nectar. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘Better than perfect. Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘Can I just . . . sorry, you’ve got crumbs . . .’ She brushed them off the collar of his white shirt where he couldn’t see them.
‘Thanks. Let’s get you home now, shall we? He gathered up the iPad that had been lying on the bench next to him.
‘You’re always tapping away on that thing,’ said Layla. ‘I’d love to know what it is you’re doing.’
Will smiled, took the empty cardboard cup from her and dropped it into the recycling bin next to the bench. ‘Nothing interesting. Come on, let’s go.’
Chapter 12
‘Now, darling, just tell me this,’ Didi’s mother had said over the phone the other evening from her seafront apartment in Marbella. ‘When you picture yourself in your wedding dress, what exactly do you see?’
Didi marvelled at the way her mum’s mind worked. She said patiently, ‘I don’t see anything. I haven’t found it yet.’
‘Well we can’t have you walking up the aisle stark naked, can we! When’s your next day off?’
‘Thursday. Why?’ A split second later, Didi realised she’d fallen into a trap.
‘Right, I’m booking my flight over. I’ll see you on Thursday morning and we’ll make a start.’
‘A start on what? I’m not getting married until December.’ Another even more terrifying thought stru
ck her. Oh please don’t say I’m getting a surprise wedding and it’s actually happening next week.
‘Sweetheart, December’s no time at all. This isn’t like picking up packs of knickers in M&S, you know. Choosing the right dress and getting it altered to fit properly can take months.’
Didi was already aware that she appeared to be lacking in some indefinable dress-selecting gene. She couldn’t envisage anything worse than trying on endless variations of wedding outfits, but at the same time accepted that her mother probably had a point.
There’d be no stopping Maura anyway, once her mind was made up.
And now it was Thursday and here was her mother, fresh off the plane and leaping out of Will Osborne’s taxi swathed in a flowing multicoloured silk dress and trailing a cloud of perfume in her wake.
‘Darling, are you quite sure you’re ready?’ She looked at Didi askance.
‘How are you, Mum?’ Didi gave her a hug. ‘And yes, I’m sure. Let’s get this thing done.’
‘I meant is that what you’re wearing?’
‘It’s my day off.’
‘Yes, but jeans. Hardly ideal when you’ll be taking them on and off all day.’
‘I can keep them on,’ Didi reassured her, ‘and just try the dresses on over the top. You won’t be able to see them under the skirt.’
‘Oh my goodness, you don’t have a clue. Thank heavens I’m here to sort you out. Now let’s get going, shall we?’
She was gesturing, attempting to lead the way back to the taxi. Didi dug her heels in like a dog and waved her car keys. ‘It’s OK, I’m driving. We don’t need a cab.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, you won’t be able to drink if you take the car.’
‘Why would I want to drink?’
‘Because they always give you glasses of champagne in bridal boutiques!’
‘Can’t I just say no?’
It was Maura’s turn to look shocked. ‘No you can’t, because that would be incredibly rude.’
If customers had to have drink forced on them, choosing a wedding dress was clearly a major ordeal. Didi said, ‘I could tell them I’m pregnant.’
‘Oh my darling! Are you?’ Her mother’s eyes lit up.
‘No, Mum.’
‘Ah well, that’s probably a blessing, otherwise it’d be a nightmare getting you fitted for your dress. Come on, we can’t cancel the taxi now. I’ve already told Will he’s got us for the next few hours. Let’s have some fun, shall we? A proper mother–daughter day!’
By one o’clock, Didi was all frocked out and her mother was just getting started. The wedding shops – no, not shops, always either boutiques or showrooms – were scented and glamorous and contained a dizzying selection of dresses. Will drove them from one to the next, waiting patiently in the taxi with only his iPad to keep him company whilst Maura knocked back flutes of champagne and cried, ‘Oh no, darling, that’s so plain,’ every time Didi dared to try on something that didn’t look like one of the showstoppers from The Great British Bake Off.
After a whistle-stop tour of Oxford, Cheltenham and Stroud, Didi said, ‘This is torture, and if we don’t stop for something to eat, I’m going to faint.’
‘You girls today, honestly. No stamina. Now, how about this one, if we had extra Swarovski crystals sewn around the neckline and the hem?’
The dress was a monstrosity and sparkling crystals were Didi’s worst nightmare. She shook her head. ‘Mum, no. You can’t make me choose something like that. If you’re so desperate for a Disney princess dress, you get married. All I want right now is a plate of pie and chips.’
‘And that’s why you couldn’t do up the zip on the last dress you tried on,’ said Maura.
They didn’t go for pie and chips; that wasn’t her mother’s style at all. Instead they went to a glamorous new bistro in Minchinhampton and Maura took a dozen or so photos of her starter before settling down to eat.
‘So, how is everyone? All good at the hotel? How’s Aaron?’
It was the first time she’d mentioned his name. With Maura living in Marbella and Aaron in London, they’d only met twice but had liked each other well enough. Didi said, ‘The hotel’s good. Aaron’s great. He’s busy at work but comes up most weekends.’
‘Show me your photos of him, darling. And has he sorted out what he’s going to be wearing for the wedding?’
‘Not yet, but he will.’ Aaron was keener on buying clothes than she was and the walk-in wardrobe of his apartment in the Barbican was stuffed with designer items. Didi scrolled through the photos on her phone until she found the most recent ones of Aaron and herself.
‘You do make a lovely couple. I prefer his hair like that, shorter at the sides. The first time I saw him it was a bit . . . you know, bleurgh. He’ll have it short for the wedding, won’t he?’
‘Mum, he’s a grown-up. If he wants, he can dye it bright orange and wear it in a mohican.’
‘If he tried that, I’d wait until the registrar launched into the lawful impediment malarkey, then I’d stand up and say, “Yes, I object. His hair is ridiculous and I refuse to let my daughter marry such a plonker.”’
Didi laughed. ‘No one says plonker any more.’
‘No one wants to marry one either.’ Maura grinned and gave her a playful nudge. ‘Relax, I’m only teasing you. I like Aaron very much. And I promise I’m not going to turn into one of those nightmare mother-in-laws. I won’t even come along with you on your honeymoon. Well, not unless you really want me to!’
They looked at a few more photos of Aaron, then chatted about the hotel staff Maura had known, before Didi brought her up to date with various goings-on in the town and the happy news about Layla’s blossoming romance with Harry the personal trainer. Finally, as their main courses arrived, she said casually, ‘Oh, and guess who else is back? Red Mason.’
‘Really?’ Maura put down the fork she’d just picked up.
‘And Shay.’ Didi wondered why she’d waited to tell her in this way. It felt as though her attempt at making the news seem less important had backfired.
Her mother took a sip of wine and dabbed at her lipsticked mouth with a napkin. ‘They’re both back? Why?’
‘Red has cancer. He doesn’t have long to live. Shay’s doing their old house up for him to move back into. Red’s moved into Rosa’s spare room until it’s ready.’
‘And the boy?’
It was strange to hear him called that. Didi said, ‘Shay’s staying in the Midnight Suite until the work’s finished.’
‘The Midnight Suite at the hotel? But that’s ridiculous, how can he afford that?’ Her mother shot her a warning look. ‘If you’re letting him stay without paying, you’re—’
‘I’m not doing that. He is paying.’
‘Well in that case, I wonder whose credit card’s going to be taking the hit.’
‘Mum, you—’
‘And you’ve seen him, have you? I mean, has he spoken to you?’
‘Yes.’
‘How about Red, you’ve seen him too?’
‘We met up for a drink last week at the Prince of Wales.’
‘Oh, you did? So he’s well enough to go drinking in pubs, is he?’ Maura raised her eyebrows. ‘He’s probably not even ill, it’s just another of his stories.’
‘Trust me, he’s ill.’
‘Well just try not to have anything to do with them. I’m sure they’re only back to cause trouble. And why on earth is Shay staying at the hotel anyway? Why would he even want to do that?’
‘Because he can,’ said Didi. ‘Mum, he’s rich.’
‘Hmph. Well I suppose these things happen. Those king prawns look delicious.’
They looked like king prawns. Didi said, ‘I mean, seriously rich. He invented Fait, the dating app, and just sold the company for, like, zillions. I asked him if he could afford to buy the hotel outright if he wanted, and he said he could.’
She watched as this information sank in. At length, her mother said, ‘And is that his pl
an?’
‘Pretty sure it isn’t. It’s our hotel, Mum. He can’t buy something that’s not for sale.’
‘Good. Well, I suppose he always was a smart boy.’
Didi shook her head. ‘He never did have anything to do with what happened.’
‘Is that what he told you? Well, he’s bound to say that, isn’t he?’
‘He would never have done anything like that, you know he wouldn’t.’
‘And yet he upped and disappeared.’ Her mother shrugged. ‘And no one else was ever caught. Anyway, never mind all that now. The best thing you can do is just keep well away from the pair of them. I know you were keen on Shay back when it happened, but that’s all in the past. You’ve got Aaron, you’ve got this little beauty’ – she tapped Didi’s engagement ring – ‘and five months from now, you’ll be married!’
Lunch over, Maura took out a credit card and said, ‘My treat.’ She skimmed over the itemised bill, then looked up.
‘Oh dear, excuse me?’ She beckoned the young waitress over. ‘I’m sorry, this isn’t right.’
Didi winced inwardly; after years of working in the industry, she had a Pavlovian reaction to customers’ complaints. It was even more awkward when the person doing the complaining was your own mother.
Maura tapped the bill and said briskly, ‘You’ve made a mistake here, charged us twenty-three pounds for the wine when it should have been thirty-two.’
‘Oh gosh, I’m so sorry about that, thank you for noticing.’
‘You also forgot to charge for the asparagus and the wild mushrooms, so you need to redo the bill.’
Blushing and stammering, the waitress did as she was told. When the amended bill had been paid, she said, ‘Thanks again. Not many people would have done what you did.’
‘Darling, don’t mention it. I wouldn’t have wanted you to get into trouble. We’ve had a wonderful lunch and that’s the important thing. Me and my girl,’ Maura gave Didi’s hand a squeeze, ‘having a perfect day out together.’
Chapter 13
Rosa was waiting in line at the post office to send a just-finished doll off to Connecticut when a voice behind her said, ‘Hello there, how’s that knee of yours? Better, I hope?’