by Jill Mansell
‘You poor thing!’ Belting upstairs, Tara was back in a flash with the painkillers. ‘I didn’t even know you got migraines. Hang on, you’ll need a glass of water.’
‘I’ll have to lie down,’ Maggie apologized, still clutching her head as she rose cautiously to her feet. ‘Just go to bed, stay quiet, and keep the lights off… it’s the only way… Darling, I’m so sorry, I’ve completely spoiled your evening.’
‘Don’t be silly, you can’t help being ill. Now up you go,’ Tara said solicitously, ‘and give me a shout if there’s anything you need.’
‘Oh darling, you don’t have to do that, I’ll be fine. There’s no reason why you can’t still go out.’
‘You’re sick. Migraine’s a horrible thing to have.’ Tara was adamant. ‘I wouldn’t dream of leaving you here on your own.’ With a beaming smile aimed at cheering Maggie up, she said, ‘I’ll be your chief nurse.’
Maggie felt terrible, of course she did. Tucked up in bed with Tara checking on her every ten minutes, she felt both guilty and ashamed.
Slightly irritated too, because the silence and no-lights rule meant she wasn’t able to watch TV, listen to the radio, or even read a magazine.
But being honest here, what else could she have done?
Maintaining a cheery front in the privacy of her own living room was one thing, but being forced to watch Hector up at the hotel getting all touchy-feely with Paula Penhaligon—having to witness him flirt with another woman and actually mean it—was something else altogether.
Maggie knew she couldn’t do that.
Chapter 30
The horrible scrunched-up feeling of dread was still there in the pit of Maggie’s stomach the next morning, exactly matching the horribly scrunched-up clothes Tara had retrieved from the boot of the car the night before and jammed back over the radiators. Now they were all crispy-dried and would be murder to iron.
Hector phoned at eleven o’clock.
‘Poor you,’ he sympathized. ‘Tara’s just been telling me about your migraine attack last night. Are you feeling better yet?’
Maggie closed her eyes briefly. He really didn’t have the faintest idea. Well, why would he?
‘Much better, thanks.’
‘Good, good. Still, you’ll need to take things easy, to be on the safe side.’
He was sounding extremely jovial. Wonder why, Maggie thought sourly.
Aloud she said, ‘Really, I’m fine.’
‘Well, the thing is, I’m going to have to take a rain check for this afternoon.’
A rain check. She knew what he was telling her, obviously. But what exactly was a rain check? You could hear these expressions for years, Maggie discovered, and not have a clue what they actually meant.
Then she took a deep breath. ‘No problem, these things happen. Those customers of mine probably won’t turn up until five anyway. Some other time, eh?’
‘Some other time,’ Hector agreed, sounding grateful. Then he hesitated. ‘Look, I was wondering. If you’re a bit short of money I could easily—’
‘I’m not short of money!’ Horrified, Maggie realized he was assuming this was why she’d phoned him yesterday. Strapped for cash? Hey, no problem, just get Hector round to the house and have sex with him! With a shiver of mortification she repeated, ‘I’m not.’
‘OK, if you’re sure,’ said Hector.
‘Absolutely sure. Better go now.’ Maggie lowered her voice. ‘Someone’s coming to the front door. Bye.’
Another lie, to add to all the rest.
Typically the Australians arrived to pick up their cushions at twelve o’clock on the dot.
***
‘I like him.’ Tara nodded, watching Josh from Daisy’s office window. ‘I think he’s really nice.’
‘Well, thank you so much, I’m glad you approve.’ Daisy looked up and grinned. ‘I like him too.’
‘A lot?’
‘Of course a lot! I wouldn’t be sleeping with him otherwise. I’m not a trollop!’
‘I didn’t mean that. He just doesn’t seem like the kind of bloke I thought you’d go for.’ All dressed up for her trip into Bristol, Tara smoothed her red leather jacket over her waist and checked her boots for mud splashes.
‘Josh is fun, he’s kind, he’s great company, and he makes me laugh,’ Daisy explained. ‘That’s good enough for me.’
She knew perfectly well what Tara was getting at. Being fun and kind was all very well, but didn’t Daisy secretly wish he could be better looking? And the honest answer to that, Daisy had already decided, was no. Because in her experience, if Josh was knock ’em dead gorgeous, the chances were he wouldn’t be the genuinely nice person he was. And she was mature enough to appreciate this.
‘What’s he doing?’ Mystified, Tara peered out of the window. ‘He’s got a load of string.’
‘Hmm?’ Daisy glanced up from her computer. ‘Oh, he’s going to give you a driving lesson.’
‘With a piece of string? What’s he planning to do, tow me along like Noddy?’ Belatedly, Tara did a double take. ‘God, are you serious? He’s going to teach me to drive?’ As she said it, she realized Josh was using the string to fasten learner’s plates to his car. ‘But we’re supposed to be going into Bristol,’ she wailed. ‘I’ve got to buy Maggie a birthday present.’
‘You can do both,’ said Daisy.
‘I’m not insured! What if I smash up his car?’
‘I gave him all your details this morning. He’s sorted it out with his insurance company.’
‘Really?’ Tara couldn’t believe it. She swung round in delight. ‘Really? God, that’s fantastic!’
Daisy grinned. ‘Told you he was nice.’
***
‘Hi. Tara told me you’d be here. She said you were doing the place up.’ Maggie held out a five-liter can of pale yellow matt emulsion. ‘I thought you might be on the scrounge for paint.’ When in a state of abject misery, do something nice for someone else—there was always an outside chance it might cheer you up.
‘Are you sure?’ Barney Usher, looking messier and dustier than she’d ever seen him look before, wiped his grubby hands on his jeans and beamed at her. ‘Don’t you need it for yourself?’
‘I bought too much. This was left over after we’d finished the landing. It’s only cluttering up the place.’ Hefting it into his arms like an unwanted baby, Maggie said, ‘Anyway, how are you getting on?’
‘Doing pretty well. Come and have a look,’ said Barney with pride. There was a lot of dust in his hair and he smelt of disinfectant as he stepped aside and ushered her past him into the tiny cottage. Maggie had only met him a few times, and briefly at that, but she had been instantly charmed by his friendly, open manner and dazzling smile.
Amazing to think that one of his kidneys had originally been owned by Steven Standish.
‘Gosh, you’ve been busy.’ Truly impressed, Maggie gazed around the empty, scrubbed-clean living room.
‘I’ve had help. Bert Connelly’s brother brought his lorry round last night and cleared the place in three hours flat. And Donny’s giving me a hand today.’
Maggie nodded and smiled. Donny Connelly, Bert’s youngest son, was a cheerful, ox-like hulk of a lad with not too many brain cells but an endless capacity for hard work.
‘Which is the equivalent of twenty normal people’s hands,’ Barney marveled. ‘I can’t believe we’ve got so much done. It’s going to look so great here when it’s finished.’
Such youthful enthusiasm. Maggie wavered for a moment, wondering whether she should offer to pitch in as well. The ancient wallpaper had already been stripped from the walls and dust sheets efficiently laid down. They were ready to start painting and she could help with that.
But she wasn’t feeling saintly enough. There were limits. Anyway, she’d already made up her mind, she was driving i
nto Bath to stock up on cushion pads, zips, embroidery silks, and other such riveting paraphernalia.
‘This color will be perfect for Freddie’s bedroom.’ Barney was exclaiming over the paint with genuine pleasure. Shyly he explained, ‘Freddie’s my girlfriend’s son—he’s still only a baby really and I know it should be blue for a boy, but his room’s north facing, so blue might be a bit cold. Yellow’s more cheerful, isn’t it?’
‘Much.’ Maggie wondered if painting herself yellow would make her feel more cheerful. ‘Well, I’d better be off, let you get back to work.’
‘This is really kind of you,’ Barney told her. ‘As soon as we’ve moved in, we’re going to have a house-warming party.’ How he loved saying we, Maggie noted with a smile. ‘You must come.’
‘Definitely. I can’t wait to see Freddie.’
‘Oh, he’s brilliant, you’ll love him.’ His brown eyes shining, Barney added happily, ‘And Mel.’
***
‘Now ease your left foot off the clutch and press down smoothly with the right… well done… OK, now shift into second gear and start indicating left… that’s it, you’re doing brilliantly.’
Tara was feeling ridiculously pleased with herself; all the half-remembered maneuvers had come flooding back to her and Josh’s calm manner and encouraging words were having a wondrous effect. Passing the written part of her driving test had been a doddle, but actually putting what she’d learned into practice had proved a terrifying experience. Her last lesson, over a year ago now, had been punctuated by shrieks and groans from Maggie, the world’s most wildly unsuitable driving instructor. Getting flustered and panicky as a result was what had caused Tara to lose control and veer into that fateful ditch.
But Josh hadn’t yelled at her once, not even when she’d stalled twice, like a prat, on Colworth Hill. And now she was getting her confidence back. This was actually turning out to be fun.
‘Who taught you to drive?’ Tara was intrigued. Now that they were on a straight bit of road she felt able to speak.
‘Ah well, I was seventeen, I was an impressionable youth bursting with hormones. I’d also just seen a film that had a profound effect on me.’ Josh heaved a nostalgic sigh. ‘You might know it, that great classic of our time—Confessions Of A Driving Instructor.’
‘Oh yes, marvelous film.’ Tara nodded reverently. ‘Won a lot of Oscars.’
‘That’s the one. Into fourth gear now. Anyway, when I rang up the driving school I specifically asked for a female instructor, blonde preferably, under thirty-five, and seriously attractive. And the bloke on the other end of the phone said, “Don’t you worry, my lad, I’ve got just the lady for you. A dozen lessons with her and you’ll pass any test with flying colors.”’
‘Blimey.’ Tara whistled through her teeth and swerved to avoid a squashed hedgehog—OK, so it was already dead, but being run over twice would be adding insult to injury. ‘Who did you get, Melinda Messenger?’
‘I got Eunice.’ Josh’s tone was mournful. ‘She was sixty and a spinster, with grey hair in a bun and teeth like a shark. She was the scariest woman I’d ever met, but she knew her job. Within six weeks she got me through my test.’ Sounding amused, he added, ‘So you see, looks aren’t always everything.’
Tara kept her eyes firmly on the road ahead, but she could feel herself reddening. Was he making fun of her? God, had Daisy told him what she’d said?
Her lesson lasted an hour, by the end of which Tara had graduated to the dizzy heights of three-point turns. Bad three-point turns, but she was as proud of them as a mother with an ugly newborn baby.
And she hadn’t driven into a ditch once.
‘You’re going to be fine,’ Josh declared when she had reversed somewhat wonkily into a gateway. ‘We’ll get you through this test. Eight weeks max.’
Jumping out of the car, he unfastened the learner’s plates, chucked them onto the back seat, and took Tara’s place behind the wheel. Tara, having shuffled in an ungainly fashion over the central well and gearstick—oh yes, very elegant, very Nigella Lawson—adjusted her jeans and said, ‘Will you still be here then?’
‘No problem. You won’t be getting rid of me that easily.’ He winked, ticking the months off on his fingers. ‘March, April, May—I don’t start the new job until June.’
June. Tara frowned.
‘But what happens after that?’
‘What happens? Are you mad? You’ll be free to go wherever you want! Get yourself a little runabout and there’ll be no stopping you.’
‘I meant with you and Daisy. This new job of yours is in—where, Miami? Isn’t that going to make things a bit tricky?’
Josh grinned as they sped along the narrow lane. ‘I only got here a few days ago. It’s a bit soon to start worrying about that kind of stuff.’
This was men for you. They never worried about anything.
‘OK, maybe, but I’m just saying. And it’s not as if you only just met Daisy. You liked each other years ago. A lot,’ Tara emphasized. ‘And Daisy isn’t the bed-hopping type. Now that you’re back together, the chances are it’s going to last. Which of course I’m really glad about,’ she added hastily, ‘but I can’t help worrying about this zipping back to America thing. I don’t want Daisy to get hurt again.’
Gosh, she felt terribly grown-up all of a sudden! Warning Daisy’s new boyfriend that if he didn’t treat her well, he’d have her to answer to.
‘What’s this?’ Josh’s eyes crinkled with laughter. ‘An interrogation? Are you asking me if my intentions towards Daisy are honorable?’
‘Don’t make fun of me.’ Tara ignored the look of mock horror on his face. ‘I just can’t see it working out, long-term, if she’s here and you’re over there in the States.’
‘OK, now listen to me. I do like Daisy. A lot,’ Josh mimicked good-naturedly, ‘as you so delicately put it. And I wouldn’t dream of hurting her, you should already know that. Making girls cry isn’t my style.’
‘Next left,’ Tara instructed as the sign pointing to the motorway loomed ahead.
‘I hope it works out for us,’ Josh went on. ‘I really do. And if it’s meant to, it will. My job in America isn’t a major problem.’
God, he really was nice. Tara admired the way the muscles on his forearms moved beneath the skin as he indicated left, turned the steering wheel, and simultaneously changed gear. Imagine being able to do all that complicated stuff without even thinking about it.
‘You mean you’d find something here instead?’
Josh shrugged as they sped down the slip road and overtook a juggernaut.
‘Possibly, but the weather’s better in Florida. I actually meant that Daisy could always jack in her job and find something over there.’
Chapter 31
A family of tourists strolling around the hotel grounds caught Daisy’s eye as she glanced up from her computer screen. The sight of the children eating ice lollies bought from the village shop recalled last night’s dream with a jolt.
Good grief, until this moment she hadn’t even known she’d dreamt it, but now it came catapulting back to her, clear as day. She and Dev Tyzack had been sitting together on the front steps of the hotel, talking about… well, something or other, possibly rugby. And he’d been eating an ice cream—not a glamorous one, just the swirly synthetic whipped-up kind you got from an ice-cream van. It didn’t even have a flake in it.
But it was a hot day, and she’d longed for some of the ice cream. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. The next moment, Dev stopped what he was saying and offered it to her.
‘Want some?’
Oh, she did, she did. Overjoyed, she leaned towards him, steadying herself with her hand on his knee. She licked the ice cream and Dev smiled slightly before taking it back. He licked it too, which seemed wonderfully intimate. Seconds earlier, her mouth had been on the ice cream; now his mou
th was there at the exact same spot. Almost like kissing by proxy.
And then he’d resumed his conversation, every now and again pausing to offer her another lick. They’d shared the whole ice cream, even the cone.
That was it. That had been the sum total of the dream. Feeling hot, Daisy reached for the tumbler of water on her desk and hastily glugged it down. Damn, the effects dreams could have on you. And how embarrassing; a psychiatrist would have a field day interpreting this one.
The phone rang and she grabbed it, glad of the diversion. God, and Josh had been lying asleep next to her the whole time! Sharing a bed with one man and inadvertently dreaming of another was almost like being unfaithful, and why on earth would she want to dream about Dev Tyzack anyway? She was perfectly happy with Josh.
Oops, still not concentrating. Realizing she’d forgotten to speak, Daisy hurriedly cleared her throat and, to make herself sound more efficient, said, ‘Good morning, Colworth Manor Hotel, Daisy MacLean speaking.’
‘You’re behind the times. It’s good afternoon,’ a male voice observed, and for a horrible moment Daisy thought it was Dev Tyzack.
Then, even horribler, she realized it was him. Oh God, out of her dreams and into her phone. This simply wasn’t fair.
‘Sorry. Working too hard to notice the time.’ Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was one o’clock. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘Well, I’ve got this ice cream here, melting faster than I can eat it. I wondered if you’d like to come and help me out.’
Dev didn’t actually say this, obviously. It was her imagination working on feverish overtime without any help whatsoever from the sensible part of her brain. Wherever that might be.
‘Just ringing with an update on the figures for the conference. It’s gone up by eight. That won’t be a problem, will it?’
They won’t be a problem, thought Daisy. You’re the problem.