by Jill Mansell
‘Now do you have your passport?’ said the chauffeur.
‘No.’ Caz gave him an innocent look. ‘Lost it. Oh dear, now I can’t go.’
The chauffeur, who had evidently worked with her often enough before not to be alarmed, checked her handbag. ‘Yes, it’s in there.’
‘I hate you. OK, let’s go.’ She clutched Shay’s hand through the open window. ‘Don’t you dare do anything naughty while I’m away. Definitely don’t sleep with the next person who moves into the Midsummer Suite.’
Shay said, ‘I’ll try not to.’
The car moved smoothly off down the high street. When it was out of sight, he turned back and saw Didi behind the desk in reception.
She looked up. ‘It probably won’t happen.’
‘Sorry?’
There was a flash of diamond as she reached up to smooth an errant lock of dark hair behind her ear. ‘Just a couple of hours from now, a big burly American called Myron is going to be moving back into the Midsummer Suite.’
Myron, owner of the troublesome electric toothbrush.
‘Well,’ Shay managed a faint smile, ‘never say never.’
He answered his ringing phone and heard Red’s voice. ‘Are we going over to the house? I thought you were coming to collect me at ten.’
‘Caz was late leaving for the airport.’ She had kept the driver waiting outside for twenty minutes. ‘I’m on my way now.’
‘I’ll just do a couple of hundred star jumps while I’m waiting,’ said Red.
Five seconds after he ended the call, Shay’s phone rang again.
‘Are you missing me already?’ said Caz. ‘Because I miss you.’
Was she even a mile away yet? ‘I’m just heading off to the house.’
‘Do you miss me, though?’
He glanced across at Didi, who was frowning at her computer screen but doubtless also listening to his conversation. ‘I will, just as soon as I get the chance.’
‘Do you love me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Say it, then!’
‘I can’t speak now, I’m driving.’
‘I don’t have to catch my flight,’ Caz reminded him. ‘I could always come back. Unless you say it.’
In her world it was practically meaningless, Shay knew. On stage, on TV and on social media she regularly told her audiences how very much she loved each and every one of them from the bottom of her heart.
He murmured, ‘I love you,’ and heard Caz’s whoop of delight.
‘See? I knew you could say it!’
By the time he rang off, Didi had disappeared. Shay wondered if she’d overheard him.
Well, so what if she had? She and Aaron must say it to each other all the time.
Chapter 33
‘All OK?’ Benny greeted Rosa when she joined him in the kitchen at Compton House the following week.
‘Great, thanks!’ She pulled out a stool at the marble-topped island and helped herself to two of the shortbread biscuits from the tartan tin. ‘It feels strange being out there talking to him, knowing I don’t have to skulk around any more. Strange but nice,’ she amended. ‘Being allowed to be here.’
‘You always would have been allowed, if only I’d known.’
‘Ah well, I didn’t tell you before, but I had a bit of a run-in with Ingrid the other week too.’
‘You did?’ Benny looked horrified. ‘What did she say?’
Rosa provided him with a brief recap of the mortifying encounter in the garden. ‘She didn’t approve of you letting me be there. And she told me my conversations with Joe were dull.’
‘God, I’m so sorry. I used to tell myself she was just a plain speaker. But that was me trying to convince myself that she was a decent person deep down. Whereas in reality,’ said Benny, ‘she’s just a bitch who enjoys making other people feel small.’ He ran his fingers through his rumpled brown hair. ‘I don’t know how we stayed together as long as we did. It’s my own stupid fault.’
‘It definitely isn’t your fault. Don’t ever think that!’
‘I meant for getting involved with someone I knew wouldn’t be easy to live with. I’m just not great at choosing the right women.’ Benny sighed. ‘I’ve never had a relaxed relationship, d’you know what I mean? One where you don’t have to mind your step and watch out for problems the whole time. All I want is an easy, happy life with no arguments and no drama.’
‘I know.’ Rosa was already nodding in agreement. ‘I was very lucky, I had that with Joe. He was always cheerful; I never had to wonder if he’d be in a mood when he came home. We just loved being a couple, doing nice things for each other and having fun. If ever we were making dinner and a good song came on the radio, we’d start dancing together and it was just so lovely.’
‘In here?’
‘In our first little flat in London and then yes, in here too.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘When Layla was little, she used to clap her hands and join in. Then she turned into a teenager, which put a stop to that. But Joe and I always carried on, even when she was rolling her eyes and going, “Eww, gross, old people getting sexy.” Joe always told her that even when we were ninety, we’d still be dancing in the kitchen.’
‘Sounds wonderful,’ said Benny.
‘It was. And maybe we didn’t get to carry on doing it until we were ninety, but it was brilliant while it lasted. I was lucky to have him for as long as I did.’ Rosa gestured to her face. ‘And look at me now! It goes to show, time really does heal. I used to burst into tears just thinking about it. Even last year I’d break down if I tried to talk about him. But here we are, and not a tear in sight. It’s become a happy memory.’
‘That’s good. I’m glad. Were you amazing dancers?’
She doubled up with laughter. ‘Oh no, not at all, we were terrible! It just didn’t matter, so long as we were having a ball and being terrible together.’
When Rosa arrived back at Frog Cottage three hours later, she found Red stretched out on the most comfortable sunlounger in the shade of the willow tree. She observed him for several seconds, holding her breath until reassured that his chest was continuing to rise and fall.
The next moment, without opening his eyes, he said, ‘Why are you watching me?’
‘I thought you were asleep.’
‘Or were you checking I was still alive?’
‘Don’t say that.’
He chuckled and opened his eyes. ‘Why not? It’s true, isn’t it? Where’ve you been, anyway?’
‘Compton House.’
He checked the angle of the sun in the sky. ‘For three hours?’
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to be away for so long.’
‘No worries. Shay only dropped me back an hour ago. Been drinking?’
‘What is this, the Spanish Inquisition? No, I haven’t been drinking. Why would you say that?’
‘You told me you had champagne last time.’
‘Well we didn’t today. Do I sound as if I’ve had a drink?’
‘No. Your face looks kind of lit up, that’s all.’ He was studying her with interest. ‘Almost . . . sparkling.’
‘We were sitting outside in the sunshine,’ said Rosa. ‘It’s probably sweat.’
‘That must be it.’ Red sounded amused. ‘But you had a good time.’
‘We did, we were just chatting away about all sorts. I didn’t realise it was so late. By the way, what are you up to tomorrow, any plans?’
‘Not sure. I’ll probably be over at the house again. Why?’
‘Benny’s driving to Westonbirt Arboretum. He wondered if I’d like to go along, and we thought you might be interested too.’ Hastily, because walking more than a hundred metres would be too much for him, Rosa added, ‘We checked online and it’s completely wheelchair-friendly. You’d love it.’
‘Trees. No thanks.’
‘You like trees!’
‘I like some trees. But there’s such a thing as too many. They get a bit samey after a while.’
�
��They wouldn’t be samey,’ Rosa protested, but he was already shaking his head.
‘Not my thing. You two go without me. Tell Benny thanks for the offer, but I’d rather spend the time with my boy.’
The trouble with missing breakfast was it gave your stomach delusions of grandeur when it was time for lunch, like it deserved a reward for having waited so long. Instead of grabbing a sandwich or a pot of pasta salad from the bakery just up the road, Layla found herself heading instead for the French café on Comer Street.
Sometimes only a cheese soufflé and triple-cooked fries would do, and no one made them better than Bettine.
Reaching the café, she saw through the window that it was busy. She also spotted Will sitting at one of the tables, oblivious to his surroundings, tapping away on his iPad. As she watched, he paused to take a mouthful of tomato soup and thickly buttered bread. She’d asked him several times what he was working on, but he always said it was nothing special.
By the time she’d placed her order at the counter, all the other tables were occupied. As she hesitated, a toddler made a grab for the hem of her yellow polka-dotted dress, and the sudden flash of colour and movement caused Will to look up.
‘Hi.’ He glanced around, saw that she was searching for somewhere to sit. ‘You can share my table if you like.’
The iPad was swiftly switched off and moved to one side. Layla pulled out the empty chair and sat down opposite him.
‘Help yourself to chips.’ Will nudged the plate towards her. ‘They’re amazing.’
She took one. ‘I know. They’re half the reason I’m here.’
‘What’s the other half? Oh, have you ever tried the cheese soufflé? Out of this world.’
‘And that’s what I’ve ordered.’ Layla felt herself relax. ‘Looks like we’re soufflé twins.’
‘With excellent taste.’ Will paused. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘Doesn’t this feel a bit weird to you?’ Layla gestured at him, then at herself. ‘We’ve sat together hundreds of times, but it’s always been side by side. We’ve never sat facing each other before. You look . . . different!’
‘You mean having to see my whole face is an ordeal?’ He raised an eyebrow in protest. ‘Would you prefer it if I stayed in profile?’ He turned his head to the left, then to the right. ‘Like this?’
‘I’m sure I’ll get used to it. And don’t let me disturb you when you’re busy.’ She indicated the iPad. ‘If you want to carry on doing what you were doing, go ahead. I’ll be quiet, I promise.’
‘It’s OK, I’ve finished for now.’ As ever, Will evidently had no intention of letting her see what had been occupying his attention.
‘Is it poetry?’ said Layla. ‘Are you a top-secret spy? Ooh, are you an anonymous restaurant critic, is that why you’re always so secretive?’
‘You got me.’ Will grinned at her across the table, utterly relaxed. ‘Here comes your lunch now.’
As they ate, he chatted about his job and the weirder encounters that took place with people in his cab, including this morning’s foreign tourists who’d been outraged when he’d explained that he couldn’t take them on a guided tour of Scotland this afternoon. No, not even a quick one.
‘Thank goodness I’m not weird.’ Layla tipped her head from side to side, jangling her oversized flamingo earrings. ‘Apart from my outfits, that is.’
‘I’d never call you weird. You’re one of my best clients.’
‘Best as in favourite? Or because I spend the most money?’
‘Both, of course.’ He hesitated. ‘Can I ask you a personal question? Why don’t you drive?’
He’d never asked before. Layla experienced the familiar twist in the pit of her stomach. ‘I don’t like it. I don’t want to. This is actually the world’s best cheese soufflé.’ She cut into the crisp golden-brown crust with the side of her fork and inhaled the steam from the Swiss-cheese melted centre.
‘But why don’t you want to?’ He was looking at her steadily. ‘OK, you don’t have to tell me. Let’s change the subject.’
‘No, I will.’ She put down her fork. For years her mind had skittered away from the memory, like a squirrel in a panic. It was an experience she only wished she could wipe from her brain. ‘I almost killed someone once. And that was it, I couldn’t handle the guilt. After that day, I never drove again.’
Will’s expression softened. ‘I’m sorry. I did wonder if it was something like that.’
‘Yes, well. It’s not as if it’s a secret.’ Layla shrugged, adrenalin stirring in response to the inevitable flashback now that she’d said the words aloud. ‘Some people are better off staying off the road, and I’m one of them.’
‘But this person didn’t die.’
‘No.’
‘Were they driving too?’
‘No. Pedestrian.’ She exhaled slowly, willing herself to keep the fear at bay.
‘But it’s not as if you did it on purpose. You didn’t set out to mow them down. It was an accident, an honest mistake.’
‘It wasn’t,’ said Layla.
He gazed at her in horror. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t mean I did it on purpose. It wasn’t my mistake,’ she clarified.
‘Oh. So why . . .?’
‘I was twenty, I’d been driving for three years. And I had a boyfriend I was crazy about. We were in my car, heading over to his parents’ house so I could meet his family for the first time. I was driving down the street when this older woman stepped out into the road without looking.’ Layla swallowed; the sound of another human being thudding against the side of the car would live with her forever. ‘I wasn’t going fast, but I couldn’t stop in time. It was the most horrific moment of my life. And then it got even worse.’ Her voice cracked with emotion, and she was forced to compose herself. ‘Because it was my boyfriend’s grandmother.’
‘Oh God.’
‘Lying on the ground in terrible pain with a fractured pelvis and three broken ribs. She hadn’t been looking where she was going because she was on the phone to her friend, telling her about how she was heading over to her son’s house to meet her grandson’s new girlfriend for the first time.’
Will shook his head in sympathy. ‘Go on . . .’
‘Ambulance. Police. I was breathalysed, even though I hadn’t had a drink in days. My boyfriend called his parents, who arrived and screamed at me. Then he joined in and started yelling too, while a crowd of people stood around gawping at the whole thing like it was something off the telly. Anyway, the family blamed me. Luckily there were enough witnesses to prove it hadn’t been my fault, but it didn’t stop me feeling guilty. Because if I hadn’t been there, driving down the road at that moment, it would never have happened. So that was the end of the boyfriend, and it was the end of driving too. I never want to risk having that feeling again. And I won’t, so long as I have you.’ OK, that sounded wrong; hastily Layla went on, ‘I mean, you and any other taxi drivers who pick me up and take me wherever I want to go.’
‘Well now I understand,’ said Will. ‘It’s a terrible thing to happen. No wonder you were traumatised.’
Layla nodded, relieved she’d told him, glad he’d asked. ‘Have you ever had an accident?’
‘No. Did the grandmother recover?’
‘Yes, thank goodness.’
‘Did the family ever apologise for blaming you?’
‘No.’
‘That must have been horrible too. If you don’t mind me saying so, you had a pretty crappy boyfriend.’
It was nice sitting here like this, talking to someone who was on her side. Layla said ruefully, ‘Oh, he was just one of many. I’ve been involved with a long line of crappy boyfriends over the years.’
Will’s eyebrows rose. ‘You mean . . .?’
‘Until Harry, of course.’ She felt herself breaking into an unstoppable smile. ‘He came along and broke my duck at last. About time too.’ The eyebrow thing was happening again. ‘Why are you do
ing that?’
‘Doing what?’
‘Looking dubious. He makes me happy. I’ve finally got myself a lovely boyfriend. It’s good news!’
‘OK.’
‘And you’re still doing it. Do you know something I don’t? Have you seen him with someone else?’ She flung the question out with a mixture of challenge and fear.
‘No, I haven’t—’
Layla’s phone began to ring. She said to Will, ‘Well I’m glad to hear that,’ and whipped it out of her bag. ‘Hi, we were just talking about you! What time am I seeing you tonight? Oh right, no, that’s no problem. I have a ton of work actually, tomorrow’s much better. Yes! Love you too!’
Talk about bad timing. She put her phone away, silently cursing the demanding client who’d just insisted on booking Harry for this evening, because now Will was bound to have jumped to the wrong conclusion. Cheerfully she explained, ‘He’s really building up his client list. This year the Cotswolds, next year the world! Are you OK to drop me over to Bourton tomorrow evening at seven?’
Will nodded. ‘No problem.’
‘You should try dating apps. They’re great. Honestly, download Fait and give it a try. You never know who you might meet!’
It was the turn of Will’s phone to burst into life. He glanced at the screen, finished his tumbler of sparkling water and rose to his feet. ‘Customer waiting, have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
There was a single triple-cooked chip on his plate. Reaching across because she just knew he’d left it on purpose, Layla said, ‘Bye,’ and popped it into her mouth. So what if she already had her own? You could never have too many chips.
Only lukewarm now, but still delicious.
He grinned. ‘I knew you’d do that.’
He was about to leave, but a grandmother with a double buggy was struggling to do a three-point turn in the cramped café. Out of nowhere, Layla heard herself say, ‘You don’t trust Harry, do you?’
Caught as off guard as she was by the unexpectedness of the question, Will hesitated. ‘I don’t really know him.’