by Jill Mansell
“Don’t be silly. Are the children all right?”
“Bound, gagged, and manacled to their beds.” She beamed. “Don’t worry. They can’t escape.”
“Good.” He gave her a brief smile. Serena, as she had anticipated, clung lovingly to his arm. Guy continued, “Well, we’re off to bed now. Don’t forget to turn everything off before you go up.”
With any luck, thought Maxine, I did that when I mashed six cloves of garlic into the fish pie.
Chapter Fifteen
Janey saw what Maxine meant when she turned up at Trezale House the following morning. The storms had cleared, Cornwall was bathed in glorious sunshine once more, and Serena Charlton was sunning herself topless in the garden. Observing the sheer flawlessness of her long, lean body and deeply envious of such perfect breasts—the pert kind, which wouldn’t dream of sliding down to nestle in each armpit as her own unruly pair invariably did—Janey was glad she didn’t share her sister’s need to compete. When the opposition was this stunning, it was a daunting prospect to say the least.
“For me?” said Guy, coming into the kitchen behind her and spotting the cellophane-wrapped bouquet of lemon-yellow roses in her arms. “How kind. Nobody’s given me flowers for years.”
He seemed to be in a good mood. Janey, moving out of the way as he reached into the fridge for a bottle of milk, tried not to stare at his naked torso. All he wore was a pair of Levi’s and delicious aftershave. Yet another faultless body, she thought enviously. Such dazzling perfection was almost too much to bear.
“Maxine ordered them. She’s gone to track down a vase.”
“Who?” Rubbing his wet hair with a green towel slung around his neck, he said cryptically, “Ah, you mean our in-house saboteur.”
Janey’s heart sank. “What’s she done now?”
But Guy merely grinned. “I’m sure she’ll tell you. When she does, perhaps you would let her know that it didn’t work.” When Janey continued to look blank, he added enigmatically, “Tell her that for lunch yesterday I had chicken Kiev.”
“Found one,” said Maxine, coming into the kitchen with a slender, very elongated smoked-glass vase. “It looks like Serena, don’t you think? Except that the vase has a higher IQ. Oh…sorry!” Spotting Guy and not looking the least bit apologetic, she set the vase on the table. “I thought you were still in the shower.”
Guy raised his eyebrows in good-humored disbelief. Turning to Janey, he said, “Do me a favor, will you? Take her out somewhere tonight.”
“Can’t afford it,” said Maxine promptly. “I’ve got to get the clunking noise in my car sorted out before the wheels fall off. I thought I’d stay in and save my pennies.”
Serena, taking a break from sunbathing, appeared in the kitchen doorway. The gauzy, white blouse she had thrown on over her bikini was virtually transparent. Up close, Janey thought with a twinge of envy, she looked even more stunning than she had at a distance.
“I’d like a cup of tea,” she announced with a brief, pointed glance in Maxine’s direction. “And this time, maybe I could have Splenda in it instead of sugar.”
“Of course you could,” Maxine replied smoothly, filling the look-alike vase at the sink and busying herself with the task of flower arranging. “The kettle is that round metal object next to the toaster. The tea bags are in the cupboard.”
Exchanging yet another glance with Janey, Guy said, “I’ve changed my mind. Take her away with you now.”
Maxine, thrilled at the prospect of almost a whole day off, protested, “But I can’t afford to go anywhere…”
“Here.” With a look of resignation he reached for his wallet. Peeling off eighty pounds, he handed the notes to Janey. “Have fun. On one condition.”
Janey, who didn’t trust conditions, looked wary. “What’s that?”
“You have to promise not to send her back before midnight.”
“It’s a deal.” Maxine, cheered by her success, promptly abandoned the flowers in the sink.
Serena, frowning as Janey pocketed the money, said, “I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my life.”
“Don’t worry about it,” riposted Maxine, her smile angelic. “I’m worth every penny. Just ask Guy…”
• • •
“Down here on vacation, then, girls? Come on; don’t be shy. We’ll buy you a drink. Come and sit down with us.”
At Maxine’s insistence, because “you said you wanted to meet some men,” they had set out at seven in the evening on a seafront bar crawl. And there was no doubt about it, thought Janey with a suppressed shudder: they were certainly meeting some men.
“Don’t let them do it,” she whispered frantically in Maxine’s ear, at the same time tugging her in the direction of the door. But Maxine, for someone so lacking in bulk, was surprisingly untuggable. She was also flashing the kind of smile that meant they were staying put.
Within seconds, two glasses of house white had materialized and the short one with the beer belly stretching a salmon-pink Lacoste shirt to its limits was leading Janey to the table. Maxine, brown eyes gleaming as she settled herself into one of the vacant chairs, was already nose to nose with his far better-looking friend.
“I’m Phil and he’s Ricky,” said the little fat one, before diving enthusiastically into his pint and downing it in seconds. Having wiped the mustache of froth from his upper lip, he returned his attention to Janey. “So how long are you down here for? Where d’you come from? What kind of work d’you do, and what’s your name?”
Janey stared at him. Fat Phil roared with laughter. “Hey, it’s a joke! Time is money, babe, and why waste time getting to know each other when we could be having fun? That’s what I say!”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.” Janey, suppressing a shudder, handed him her untouched glass of wine. “And I hope you have lots and lots of fun; I really do. But I’m afraid I have to go now. The babysitter’s expecting me back at nine and she’ll kill me if I’m late—”
“What is the matter with you?” Maxine cried indignantly, catching up with her thirty seconds later. “You wanted men, I got you men. Janey, you didn’t even give him a chance!”
“Are you sure he was a man?” Janey countered, stung by her sister’s insensitivity. “He looked seven months pregnant to me. And he had breasts.”
“But he had a kind face.”
Maxine’s ability to point out redeeming features in the most hopeless of cases never failed to amaze Janey. Provided, of course, that they were somebody else’s hopeless cases and not her own.
“Maybe.” It was no good; she wasn’t going to feel guilty. “But I can’t pretend to be interested in people. It just isn’t me. Besides, he was an idiot.”
“You don’t have to fall in love with him.” Maxine was trying hard to understand, but it was an uphill struggle. “You aren’t supposed to take men like that seriously. They’re just good to practice on until the real ones turn up.”
This time Janey laughed because nobody would ever change Maxine. She had her own strategy in life and it would never even occur to her to question it. And why should she want to, anyway? As far as Maxine was concerned, it worked.
“OK, I’m sorry. What shall we do now?”
Maxine, straight-faced, said, “I know. Back to your place, into our woolly robes and slippers. We’ll watch that nice cookery program on the telly and take it in turns to make the cocoa. If you’re really good, I’ll teach you how to crochet a tea cozy that looks like a thatched cottage.”
“Or?”
“Blow the money on a stupendous meal,” Maxine replied promptly. “I’m starving.”
Janey threw her a look of disbelief. While she’d been working in the shop all afternoon, Maxine had been out on the patio, sunbathing and stuffing herself with food. An entire tub of Häagen-Dazs rum raisin had vanished from the freezer, and when she’d gone out
to clear up at six o’clock, empty chip bags and Coke cans had littered the wrought-iron table.
But since it didn’t even occur to Maxine that she shouldn’t be hungry now, she misinterpreted the expression on Janey’s face.
“Oh, all right! I absolutely promise not to talk to any strange men for the rest of the night.”
Janey doubted whether she was physically capable of such a feat, but it was a noble offer. Beginning to relax, she said, “OK. How about La Campagnola?”
“Boring,” declared Maxine. “The cricketer took me there last week and it was practically empty. No, I asked Guy about restaurants. He said the best one was on Amory Street. I think it’s called Bruno’s.”
• • •
“Janey, my gorgeous girl!” shouted Bruno when he saw her coming through the door, and Maxine’s eyebrows shot up in amazement.
Janey, praying she hadn’t turned red, explained hurriedly, “He says that to all the girls.”
“Hasn’t said it to me,” murmured Maxine as Bruno made his way across the restaurant to greet them. “Hmm, and very nice too. Is he gay?”
“Is the Pope Jewish?” countered Bruno, who possessed twenty-twenty hearing. Embracing Janey and at the same time studying Maxine over her shoulder, he murmured, “Darling, what have you been telling this poor girl?”
“She isn’t a poor girl, she’s my sister.” As if Bruno hadn’t already guessed, Janey thought morosely. Hadn’t she, after all, been complaining to him about Maxine for the past fortnight?
“Maxine Vaughan,” said Maxine, gazing with interest at possibly the only man on the planet capable of making Janey blush. He wasn’t what you’d call startlingly good-looking, but the eyes were the greenest she’d ever seen and the grin was irrepressible. He was, she decided, one of those men with an indefinable aura of attractiveness about them…a wonderfully wicked, tantalizing aura of attractiveness.
Janey, in turn watching Maxine survey Bruno, prayed she hadn’t made a hideous mistake in agreeing to come here. On the one hand, Bruno’s attentions were always guaranteed to boost her morale, and whenever Maxine was around, God knows, it needed boosting.
On the other hand, however, just introducing Bruno and Maxine was playing with fire. A bloody great bonfire, thought Janey ruefully, for already the inevitable sparks of interest were there. She could almost predict what would follow. Maxine and Bruno, both brimming with confidence and rapier-like repartee, were a perfectly matched pair. While she, in dismal contrast, could practically feel herself melting into the wallpaper.
As she had known he would, Bruno ushered them to the most favored table in the restaurant, next to the window.
“Come on. Forty minutes over coffee is long enough,” he informed the diners already seated there. Whisking away cups and liqueur glasses and signaling to one of the waitresses to bring fresh linen and cutlery, he added briskly, “Time’s up, off you go, don’t forget to leave an enormous tip.”
“Charming,” muttered the younger of the two men.
Bruno, winking at Janey and Maxine, slipped an arm around their waists and gave them both an appreciative squeeze.
“Charming isn’t the word, sir. These ladies are stupendous…magnificent…the jewels in my own personal crown. And just think, if you hadn’t spent practically a week’s wages earlier on that ludicrously expensive bottle of wine, you might even have been able to afford to take them home with you for the night.”
“Hmmph,” snorted the older man, eyeing Maxine’s bare legs with disdain as he rose to his feet.
“And hmmph to you too,” said Bruno cheerfully, guiding them toward the door. “Goodbye, gentlemen. Have a wonderful evening. See you again very soon.”
“Gosh,” said Maxine, watching with admiration as Bruno waved them off the premises. “Is he always like this?”
Janey, who was studying the menu, nodded. “All the time.”
“But doesn’t he lose an awful lot of customers?”
Janey shrugged. “Bruno says it keeps them on their toes. And the ones he doesn’t kick out are so grateful they leave bigger tips.”
Maxine was clearly impressed. When Bruno returned to their table with a bottle of Pouilly-Fumé and pulled up another chair, Janey was surprised Maxine didn’t offer to sit on his lap.
“I love this place,” Maxine declared, her expansive gesture encompassing the green-and-white decor, the latticed ceiling, and the spectacular view from the window. “Thank goodness we didn’t go to La Campagnola! And why on earth hasn’t my big sister brought me here before?” Having given Janey a look of mock reproach, she returned her attention to Bruno. “She’s a sly one, I must say. She told me she didn’t know any interesting men in Trezale.” With an arch smile, she added, “And to think that you were here all the time.”
Janey, who would have torn out her own tonsils rather than come out with such a line, stared at her in disbelief. Was she being serious? Did other women really say things like that and get away with it? Had Maxine no shame?
The answer, it seemed, was no. If anything, her sister was looking more entranced than ever. The thin straps of her indigo camisole were slipping off her shoulders now and she was making no attempt to pull them up again. Her dark eyes, illuminated by candlelight, were bright with unconcealed interest.
“But how do you know each other?” she was asking Bruno, her chin cupped in one hand and the camisole top gaping to reveal more chest than ever.
In reply, he touched the arrangement of lilac and white freesias in the center of the table. “She brings me flowers.”
Maxine grinned. “How romantic.”
“Come on, pay attention,” said Janey firmly, thrusting the menu into her free hand. “You’re the one who was so hungry. I’m having the seafood risotto and the lamb.”
By the time their food arrived, Maxine was in her element. Having discovered as much about Bruno Parry-Brent in the space of thirty minutes as Janey had learned in a year, she was now regaling him with her own life history. By the time they had moved on to the coffees, she was launching into a bitchy attack on Guy Cassidy.
“He’s the one paying for this meal tonight,” Janey pointed out in Guy’s defense.
Maxine looked scornful. “Only because he wanted me out of the way.” Turning back to Bruno, she went on, “You wouldn’t believe this girlfriend of his. I didn’t think anyone could treat me worse than Guy, but at least he’s been known to say the odd please and thank you. Serena Charlton’s a living nightmare; I can’t believe what terrible taste in women some men have.”
Janey couldn’t resist it. “Maxine’s only saying this because Guy isn’t interested in her,” she explained. “She had visions of moving into Trezale House and dazzling him, and it hasn’t happened. It’s been a great disappointment to her.”
“Oh, crushing,” Maxine agreed with a trace of mockery.
“But her ego, of course, won’t allow her to admit it.” Janey smiled. Two could play at bitchery. Besides, Maxine had been showing off for long enough. She deserved it.
“He comes in here quite often,” said Bruno, aware of the undercurrents and of Janey’s irritation with her sister. It didn’t take a genius, he deduced, to figure out the reason for it. “Brings some spectacular women with him too.”
“His harem.” Maxine gave a dismissive shrug and spooned brown sugar into her coffee.
“So are you going to stick it out?” Bruno grinned. “Or leave?”
Maxine hesitated. Rattling on about Guy’s pigheadedness was one thing, but she had no intention of jacking in her job.
“He’s a pain,” she said with a brave smile, “but the kids are OK. It wouldn’t be fair to leave them.”
Janey pulled a face. “My sister, the patron saint of children.” Turning to address Bruno once more, she said evenly, “Take it from me, nothing interests Maxine more than a man who isn’t interested in her. A
s long as Guy puts up with her, she’ll stay. She doesn’t give up on anyone without a fight.”
• • •
“So how long have you had this raging crush on Bruno?” said Maxine on the way home.
Janey concentrated on driving. The lane leading up to Trezale House was narrow and unlit. “Don’t be silly,” she replied, her manner offhand. “He’s a friend, that’s all.”
“And I’m your sister,” declared Maxine, not fooled for a moment by her apparent lack of interest. “Come on, Janey! First you don’t even mention him, then you have a go at me, deliberately putting me down in front of him. Why else would you do it?”
“You were showing off.”
Maxine shot her a triumphant grin. “I’m always showing off. What’s so interesting is the fact that this time you minded like hell. Darling, it’s nothing to be ashamed of… There’s no reason on earth why you shouldn’t fancy him! He’s an attractive man. I thought he was lovely.”
“I know you thought he was lovely,” said Janey in cutting tones. In her less-than-serene state, she crunched the van’s gears. “The entire restaurant knows you thought he was lovely. I just don’t understand why you have to be so obvious.”
“Because that’s the way I am.” Maxine shrugged. “But we’re getting away from the point. The reason I asked you about your own little crush was because I wanted to know how serious it was. If you’re madly in love with him, I’ll do the decent thing and steer clear. After all,” she added infuriatingly, “I wouldn’t want to waltz in and snatch away the first man you’ve been interested in since Alan.”
Janey gritted her teeth, sensing that they were on the verge of their first real quarrel for years. Even more annoying was the fact that, deep down, she knew she was the one at fault. She was also in serious danger of cutting off her nose to spite her face.
As they approached Trezale House, she took a deep steadying breath. “OK, I do like him. He is the first man I’ve been interested in since Alan, and the reason I didn’t tell you about Bruno was because I didn’t want you to say anything embarrassing when you met him.” She drew the van to a halt, switched off the engine, and gazed out into the darkness ahead. “There, so now you know.”