George sighed. He knew she was right.
Ten minutes later he went to find Lisa. To tell her that Mimi and Victoria were staying. And that they were going to have to find the money for a launch party, the one thing they’d all agreed they didn’t want to bother with. As he walked through the hallway, he saw a tall, rangy figure with a mop of black hair walking through the door.
‘Mimi?’
Her funny little face creased into a smile and his heart buckled. He held out his arms and she rushed to hug him.
‘George. It’s so good to see you.’
For some reason, feeling his arms around her made her want to burst into tears. So she did.
‘Hey, it’s OK.’ He rubbed her back.
‘It’s been so awful.’ Her voice was muffled. ‘He was such a bastard to her, George.’
‘I know. I got the gist.’
Mimi looked up at him, her face tear-stained.
‘Did she tell you he was hitting her?’
George looked shocked.
‘No. She just told me… well, about your friend.’
‘I didn’t think she would. She never told me, either. But I heard him. It was always when they’d been drinking, but that’s no excuse, is it? I know Mum can be awful, but he could have really hurt her.’
Mimi looked at him solemnly. George felt sick. He knew how infuriating Victoria was. Many, many times he’d suppressed the urge to grab her by the arms and shake her. But he’d never laid a finger on her, no matter how much she’d goaded him. Obviously Nick Taverner didn’t have his self-control.
He put his arm around Mimi and squeezed her.
‘It’s OK,’ he said softly. ‘You don’t have to go back.’
‘But where will we go?’
‘We’ll sort something out.’
What, George couldn’t imagine. But he couldn’t let Mimi down. He suspected that he represented the only male stability she’d ever had in her life, this strange little girl with no father, whose own grandparents had rejected her, although George often suspected that this was perhaps Victoria’s fault rather than theirs.
He smiled down at her, pulling the fringe of her sarong.
‘What’s all this, anyway? Have you turned into a surfer chick?’
‘I felt like a total dork in what I was wearing. I just spent the last of my birthday money.’
George felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t sent Mimi a card or a present, which of course he should have done. She didn’t deserve to be cut off just because of Victoria’s behaviour. He decided it would be crass to start pulling cash out of his pocket now.
‘Nobody bothers too much about clothes down here. It’s very laid back.’
‘It’s fantastic,’ said Mimi softly, her eyes shining. ‘Are you going to let us stay?’
‘Just for a couple of weeks, while you get things sorted.’ George ruffled her hair.
He looked up to see Justin standing in the doorway looking thunderous.
‘What the fuck,’ he demanded, ‘is Victoria doing here? Please, somebody tell me I’m seeing things.’
*
Later that evening, George, Lisa and Justin held a council of war.
‘I can’t kick them out,’ said George. ‘Victoria’s bleating on about alimony and settlements. I’ve got to keep her sweet.’
Justin snorted.
‘No, you haven’t. What does she mean, alimony? She contributed nothing to your household in all the time she was there. She was the one who fucked off and left you, if you remember. You owe her nothing, George.’
George sighed.
‘No, but there’s Mimi to think of.’
Justin pointed an admonishing finger.
‘You’re not actually her father. You’re not responsible for her. Anyway, she’s big enough to look after herself. She must be eighteen by now.’
‘No, she’s not. She’s seventeen. And she’s the innocent party in all of this.’
Justin raised an eyebrow.
‘Haven’t you heard the phrase like mother, like daughter? You’re a fool, George.’
‘Justin, for God’s sake, shut up,’ said Lisa finally. ‘If I don’t mind them staying then I don’t see why you should.’
Justin scowled and looked out of the window. George tapped his pen on a pad of paper.
‘I’ve told them two weeks, max. I’ve told Victoria to get a decent lawyer to sort out her business affairs. Nick Taverner’s completely ripped her off.’
‘Good for him.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Justin,’ George snapped. ‘He’s a complete tosser. Victoria caught him groping one of Mimi’s friends in the hot tub.’
Justin rolled his eyes.
‘Just be careful, George,’ he sighed. ‘And if you want a decent lawyer for yourself, just say the word.’
Lisa stretched and yawned.
‘Can we stop wasting time and get on with more important things, please?’ she asked. ‘The carpenters are arriving tomorrow to fit out the bedrooms, we start interviewing staff on Monday and we need to start pinning down suppliers. Because in case you’ve forgotten, we’ve got precisely four weeks before we’re due to open…’
Later, when Lisa had gone off to have a shower and wash the day’s dust out of her hair, Justin cornered George again.
‘You’re my mate. In fact, I’d go so far as to say I’m your best mate. I’m not going to go on about the fact that I feel a bit shafted.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Jesus, George – if I’d known you were still married to that witch I’d never have gone into business with you. There’s nothing that woman isn’t capable of.’
‘I know you never liked her, but –’
‘Look – I’m not boasting, but I’m a wealthy guy. I’ve got a built-in gold-digger radar and right now it’s sending off major distress signals on your behalf –’
‘Please, Justin. I’m in total control.’
‘Promise me. If you get one moment of weakness… if she starts playing mind games with you –’
‘She won’t get a chance!’
George was adamant. Justin put a hand on his shoulder.
‘Just keep your guard up. That’s all I’m saying.’
‘Hey – with you around to protect me, she’s not going to get anywhere near me. You’re like a bloody Rottweiler,’ George joked.
‘I need to be,’ said Justin darkly. He hadn’t fallen for that demure, vulnerable act, not for a moment.
When Mimi tried to persuade Victoria to come down with her to the Old Boathouse later that evening, she nearly bit her head off.
‘For heaven’s sake, Mimi. You know I’m trying not to drink.’
Mimi looked nonplussed.
‘You don’t have to drink. Have Coke. Or water.’
Victoria looked at her witheringly.
‘You really have no idea, do you?’
‘No,’ said Mimi. ‘Can’t we just go and watch the band?’
Victoria threw herself on to the bed.
‘Don’t you go putting me under pressure as well!’
‘Me? As well as who?’ Mimi was genuinely bewildered. When you took everything into consideration, everyone had been rather good to Victoria. But her mother seemed more stressed than ever. She was lying face down, her head buried in a pillow.
‘I don’t know!’ Her voice was muffled. ‘Just fuck off and enjoy yourself, will you? While you still can.’
‘Whatever.’ Mimi hated the expression. It seemed the ultimate in teenage indifference, but at that moment it seemed the most appropriate comment.
As soon as Mimi had gone, Victoria lay staring at the ceiling. Today had been absolute torture for her. Deep down, she’d been hoping for some sort of epic Gone with the Wind-style rapprochement. She’d convinced herself that George would melt on seeing her; that he would be overjoyed and would ooze forgiveness. But the look on his face had said otherwise. His expression had been one of… well, it could only be described as distaste. Certainly not
delight. And, like Scarlett O’Hara on realizing she no longer had any hold over Rhett Butler, Victoria was shaken to find that her charms had lost their power.
She’d watched George touch Lisa, smile at her, and had felt bitter envy. She longed for his embrace, his reassurance, his solidity. But she had no entitlement. Despite the piece of paper that bound them together in the eyes of the law, Victoria knew she had blown it ages ago, and now she wept bitter tears of regret, cursing her weakness, her selfishness, her lack of judgement. Her inability to recognize the love of a good man when it was staring her in the face…
Mimi was a bit nervous going into the Old Boathouse on her own. For a start, she wasn’t sure if she was wearing the right thing. She was never going to look like the rest of the girls she’d seen parading around Mariscombe, the Joss Stone lookalikes in their white ruffled peasant skirts, so she decided to cultivate her own beach-punk style. She’d fished out her oldest, most patched denim skirt, teemed it with the halter-neck she’d bought earlier that day, pinched a pair of Victoria’s towering rope-soled espadrilles, then added a pair of fishnet tights that she cut off just below the knee, and strung several strings of love beads round her neck.
She pushed open the door and was hit by the heat of bodies and the babble of chatter. She elbowed her way to the bar and ordered a San Miguel. After about five minutes, she finally spotted Matt. He bounded over and gave her a hug.
‘Hey. You made it.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Cool. Come and meet the guys.’
He dragged her over to a crowd of people sitting by the jukebox. They were all incredibly friendly. By the time the band came on Mimi had been invited to two more parties and a beach barbecue over the weekend. She was amazed. This was so different from an evening out in Bath. That would entail two hours of fierce debate while they all decided where to go. Then when the destination was pinned down there would be at least an hour while everyone looked each other up and down and slagged off each other’s outfits, mixed with sporadic texting to change arrangements. Then suddenly it would become a drinking marathon and by ten o’clock all her friends would be legless. Before long they would be fighting, crying or getting off with someone they hated. Two hours later would come the military campaign to get everyone home: phoning the most malleable parent, scraping money together for a cab or cadging a lift off someone. But not before someone was sick or passed out. That wasn’t going to happen here. Firstly, because there wasn’t a great choice of destination – this, it seemed, was where everyone hung out. And they weren’t on a mission to get drunk. Sure, they had a few beers, but they seemed to be able to stop before they fell apart. Mimi suddenly realized how much she had actually hated her social life. She’d never really felt part of the gang. She doubted if any of her friends had ever felt they belonged, because the whole point was to make everyone feel alienated.
Here, however, everyone seemed intent on making her feel welcome. During the band, Matt came over and rested an arm on her shoulder. Not in a lecherous way, just as if they’d been mates for ages. She turned to smile at him and he grinned back.
‘Great band.’
Mimi nodded.
‘How long are you staying?’
Mimi didn’t answer straightaway.
‘Who knows?’ she answered. ‘Maybe forever?’
From the other side of the bar, Justin watched Mimi mingle with a sinking heart. That was the last thing he needed, Mimi getting her feet under the table in Mariscombe and deciding she wanted to stay. For in some ways, she was more of a threat than her mother. Justin knew George had a soft spot for the girl, and if he was handling Victoria with kid gloves it was because he was concerned for Mimi. And even Justin had to admit she was a nice kid. Whoever her father was, he must have been a decent bloke, because Mimi certainly didn’t get her equable nature from her mother.
Justin was determined not to let Victoria fuck things up for George and Lisa. He didn’t care about himself, but he knew The Rocks was vital for the two of them. And Lisa was good for George. He was his old self again around her, not the superficial twat he’d become when he’d got married. He looked around the bar – Mariscombe definitely wasn’t the sort of place you could pick up a contract killer, he thought gloomily.
Justin sighed, took his change from the barman and picked up the bottle of wine and two glasses he’d ordered. He made his way back over to the window seat and looked down into a pair of laughing eyes.
‘Hi,’ he smiled, and immediately felt better. Maybe he’d do better minding his own business.
When George crawled into bed beside her later that night, Lisa pretended to be asleep. She didn’t want to discuss the day’s events, because she still wasn’t sure how she felt. She knew if they made love, which they would normally do, that it would somehow cement her forgiveness, and she didn’t quite feel ready for that. It wasn’t that she wanted to punish him by depriving him of her body. But sex often made her feel vulnerable and she didn’t trust herself not to have some sort of post-coital breakdown, which would show George exactly how hurt she felt.
Next to her, George listened to Lisa’s breathing and wondered if she really was asleep. He still wasn’t quite sure where he stood. Lisa might have forgiven him verbally, she might have accepted Victoria’s presence under their roof, but there had been a steely look in her eye all evening that he hadn’t seen before. He knew Lisa was a tough cookie and he was still wary of reprisals. And he knew enough about women to know that forgiveness wasn’t cut and dried, that there might be recriminations and barbed remarks for some time to come. He needn’t think he’d got away with it.
To take his mind off his predicament, he started running through the lists of things he needed to achieve in the coming week, the people he needed to phone: building control, the printers, ordering yet another skip, the girl who was doing the curtains. But sleep wouldn’t come. And pervading his thoughts was a persistent image that he desperately tried to shake out of his head. The image of Victoria lying in bed only a few rooms away. She would be naked, because she always was, even in the depths of winter. George gritted his teeth, trying to think of anything but the slender limbs he remembered so well, but it was impossible. Even as he lay there, he thought he could smell her scent. She was invading him, his mind and his senses. She was in his thoughts, in the very pores of his skin. He’d forgotten the power she had over him. Two years of total abstinence might never have happened.
He should have sent her packing. It wasn’t the fear of what she might do that had made him succumb to her pleas, no matter what he had told Lisa and Justin. It was because once he had seen her, he couldn’t resist. He was crazy. He was torturing himself. It was like an alcoholic pouring a drink and leaving it on the table all day.
Perhaps making love to Lisa would help get Victoria out of his system. He debated sliding an exploratory hand over her curves. Usually he wouldn’t hesitate: Lisa was always happy to be roused from her slumber. She wasn’t the type to bat away nocturnal advances. He let his hand run tentatively over her breasts, so soft yet so firm. Her nipples hardened under his touch. Encouraged, he stroked the curve of her belly and kissed her shoulder, breathing in the tang of her shower gel, inhaling it deeply. In her semi-conscious state she gave a little moan and pressed herself against him in a gesture of encouragement. He felt her part her legs, and as he touched her she gasped in pleasure. He slid himself into her from behind, and held himself inside her as he massaged her to the brink of a climax. Only when he was sure she was about to come did he allow himself to move, and by then he was ready. They shared a sweet, fleeting moment of intensity.
‘I love you,’ said George, burying his face in Lisa’s curls, but she didn’t reply. Moments later her breathing told him she was asleep again. He wasn’t even sure she’d woken properly. He lay back on the pillows as his beating heart subsided to its normal rate.
Lisa was gorgeous and he did love her. It was just his mind playing tricks. By the time he got up tomorrow he wou
ld be in total control.
9
Bruno had decided that one of the few members of his staff who had a modicum of conscientiousness was the little chambermaid, Molly, who sometimes doubled up as a waitress. He’d watched her this morning at breakfast service. She kept her eyes open all the time, clearing plates away as soon as they were empty, bringing fresh tea and coffee, replenishing toast. She greeted the guests with a smile. She constantly tidied the table where the fruit juices and cereals were laid out, mopping up spills and topping up the jugs. The other waitresses stood round gossiping or looking at their fingernails.
And as a chambermaid, she was meticulous too. Bruno slipped into the rooms to inspect them after they had been changed. Molly’s rooms were always pristine. Hospital corners to the beds, pillows beautifully plumped, mirrors gleaming. Somehow her rooms smelled sweeter.
He cornered her in an upstairs corridor. She seemed to be on her guard, keeping her trolley between them as if for protection. He knew she was from Tawcombe. Girls from Tawcombe often seemed to be on their back foot, as if someone was likely to discover that they didn’t belong in Mariscombe and send them packing. They were a bit chippy. But then, thought Bruno, he’d be chippy if he’d drawn the short straw – it never ceased to amaze him that two places, one heaven, one hell, could be separated by only a couple of miles.
‘I wondered if you’d like to be considered for the housekeeper’s job?’ Bruno asked her, and she stared back at him. ‘I’ve watched you. You do a good job. Yours are the sort of standards I’m looking for.’
She shook her head.
‘I don’t think I can take it on.’ Her voice was soft, slightly husky. ‘I can’t put any extra hours in.’
‘It wouldn’t entail much more.’
But she couldn’t be persuaded. She seemed in a hurry to get away from him. Bruno wondered what it was that was holding her back. Perhaps she had another job elsewhere that she didn’t want him to know about. He knew there were plenty of people around here who held down two or three jobs during the summer. They had to make hay while the sun shone, grafting during the high season to make up for the leaner winter months when they might not be able to earn anything at all.
Love on the Rocks Page 20