by Jill Mansell
He wasn’t afraid to use it either. To her dismay, Janey realized that the play was billed as a comedy. All James had done so far was buy her a gin and tonic prior to curtain-up, and he’d laughed five times already. Everyone was turning to stare. One poor woman, standing unsuspectingly with her back to him, was so startled by the incredible noise that she’d spilled her drink down her blouse. It was a loud laugh that erupted abruptly, exploded out of all control, and didn’t know when to stop. If James Blair had wanted to forewarn her about it in his letter, he could have described it as: Bleugh-huuu…eek…bleuggghhh-huuu…eek eek eek…blaaaahhhuuu-huuu…eek. Now she was stuck with it for the next ninety minutes at the very least. She didn’t know which was worse—the sound of the laugh or the curiosity and barely concealed amusement of every other theatergoer within earshot.
I’m a shallow, spineless person, Janey reprimanded herself, and James is probably a very kind man. Just because he doesn’t laugh like other people, there is absolutely no reason at all to wish I were anywhere in the world but here.
But it was no good. James was still laughing, people were still staring, and the play, now due to start in less than three minutes, was described in her program as “rip-roaring, rib-tickling fun, fun, fun!”
“Marvelous play,” declared James, taking her arm in order to steer her back toward the bar when it was over. “I can’t remember when I last enjoyed myself so much. Didn’t you think it was marvelous, Janey?”
“It’s awfully late.” Damp patches of perspiration had formed under Janey’s arms; she could feel them as she glanced at her watch. “I really think I should be making a move.”
“Oh, but I told my sister we’d meet her for a drink after the show. You can stay for another ten minutes, surely?”
He looked so crestfallen that she hadn’t the heart to refuse. He wasn’t her type, but he was undeniably decent.
“OK,” she heard herself saying out of sheer guilt, “just a quick drink. Then I’m afraid I really will have to leave.”
“Jolly good!” James beamed, his boyish face alight with such enthusiasm that she felt guilty all over again. If she hadn’t been feeling so ashamed of herself, she would never have allowed him to slide his arm in a proprietorial manner around her waist. “What’ll you have then, a quick gin? Or a slow one? Sloe gin…geddit? Bleugh-huuu…eek…bleugghh-huuu…eek eek…”
Janey could have died on the spot when she saw Guy Cassidy ahead of her at the bar. All evening she’d been consoling herself with the thought that at least she hadn’t bumped into anyone she recognized. It might be shallow and spineless of her, but it was a comfort nevertheless. Or it had been, up until now.
“Hello, Janey.” Breaking off his conversation with a balding middle-aged man, he turned and smiled at her. Perspiration prickled once more beneath her arms and down her spine, as for a fraction of a second his gaze flickered to James, still caught up in the throes of his own unfunny joke.
Feeling sicker than ever, because he was also bound to relay every detail to Maxine, Janey made an effort to return his smile. “Guy, what a surprise!”
“I know,” he replied with mock solemnity. “I don’t make a habit of visiting the theater, but I’d heard such great things about this production…”
“What he means,” explained his balding companion, “is that he was dragged here against his will because we’ve been friends for years and I happen to be the play’s director. I told him he had to suffer first if he wanted dinner afterward.”
Guy grinned. “I felt like a girl out on a blind date.”
Janey felt herself go scarlet. James, who had been listening to the exchange with interest, guffawed. “Like a girl out on a blind date? Oh, I say, that’s jolly funny, bleugh-huuu…eek eek eek…”
• • •
“Why don’t you like me?” said Serena suddenly.
Guy was upstairs saying good night to Josh and Ella. Maxine, who was busy stuffing clothes into the washing machine, hadn’t even realized she was no longer alone in the kitchen. She looked up, surprised.
“Who says I don’t like you?”
“I’m not stupid,” said Serena calmly. Pulling out a chair, she sat down and examined her perfect fingernails. Maxine, who thought that anyone capable of spending one and a half hours buffing and manicuring their nails had to be stupid, didn’t reply.
“Is it envy?”
“I don’t dislike you,” Maxine protested, because the situation was bordering on the embarrassing. She half smiled. “And no, I’m not envious. I’ve always liked being five feet six and blond.”
“I’m used to being envied for my looks.” As if to prove it, Serena ran a hand through her sleek, dark hair, then fixed her unswerving gaze on Maxine, who was still kneeling on the floor with a box of Persil in one hand and an armful of Ella’s socks in the other. “But that isn’t what I meant.” Slowly she added, “I’m talking about Guy.”
“Guy!”
“He’s an attractive man.” Serena smiled slightly. “Please, Maxine. Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed.”
“And you think I’m jealous because you’re living with him,” cried Maxine, outraged. This was too much. Of course Guy was attractive, but the fact that she had been secretly lusting after him for weeks didn’t even enter into it. If Serena hadn’t been so distant and standoffish from day one, things might have been different. If, Maxine thought crossly, she’d made even the slightest attempt to fit in, it might have helped—regardless of her own small crush on Guy. But Serena, it appeared, had eyes only for Guy and no interest at all in either his children or herself. Maxine knew only too well that she wasn’t the most likely nanny in the world, but she’d grown extremely fond of Josh and Ella, who were friendly, cheerful, and endlessly entertaining. Serena’s persistent and total disregard for them, she now felt, was downright weird.
“Yes, I think you’re jealous.” Serena picked up and investigated a half-full cup of tepid coffee.
If she asks me to make a fresh pot, thought Maxine, she’ll get it over her head.
“Well, you couldn’t be more wrong!” she snapped back. “OK, he might not look like Quasimodo, but as far as I’m concerned, Guy Cassidy is irritable, moody, and not a great deal of fun to work with. I came here because I wanted to stay in Trezale and I needed a job.” Shoveling the last of the laundry into the washing machine—which ran a lot more smoothly now that her spare set of car keys had been removed from the outer drum—she added crossly, “And if I were really interested in chasing after your boyfriend, you’d know about it.”
Serena merely raised an immaculate eyebrow. “No need to lose your temper,” she observed, her tone mild. “Maxine, I don’t want us to be enemies. What I’m trying to say is that if you are interested in Guy, I can understand that. Personally, I’d be amazed if you weren’t.”
“Well, I’m not,” lied Maxine. Serena sounded like a benevolent schoolmistress; the urge to act like a five-year-old and stick out her tongue was almost overwhelming.
“All right.” Serena, looking more tolerant then ever, said soothingly, “We’ll leave it at that then, shall we? I truly didn’t mean to upset you, Maxine; all I was going to say was that if you were hoping some kind of relationship might develop, well…I’m afraid it isn’t really in the cards.”
This was getting crazier by the minute. Maxine, shaking with suppressed rage, spoke through clenched teeth. “What?”
“I discussed the matter with Guy,” explained Serena, unperturbed. “He told me that you absolutely weren’t his type.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The cliff path leading down to the cove was stony and narrow but worth the effort. The beaches at the heart of Trezale would, at eight o’clock in the evening, still be overrun by vacationers, whereas Shell Cove, on the outskirts of the town, was virtually empty. Few people could be bothered to stray the mile or so from the shops and bars;
fewer still could face the prospect, at high tide, of clambering back up the steeply sloping track to the road at the top of the cliff.
Which was really just as well, thought Janey, since it enabled Maxine to rant and rave as loudly as she liked without fear of alarming the tourists.
“…so Serena said, ‘We’ll say no more about it,’” Maxine spat furiously, continuing the monologue that had started three hundred feet up, “and walked out of the kitchen. I had plenty more to bloody say about it, I can tell you!”
“But you couldn’t tell her, so you’re telling me instead.” They had reached the bottom; rocks and crumbling gravel gave way to fine, dry sand. Janey removed her shoes and wiggled her toes in its delicious warmth.
“Damn right I’m telling you,” said Maxine, pushing her hair away from her face with an indignant gesture. “It’s the only way to make sure I don’t explode. The bloody nerve of that woman!”
“She was right, though.” Janey, who hadn’t completely forgiven her sister yet for barging into the flat the other week, couldn’t resist pointing it out. “You are after Guy.”
“Not anymore.” Maxine’s dark eyes glittered with disdain. Then, catching Janey’s sidelong glance, she added forcefully, “And it isn’t because Serena says he isn’t interested either. I wouldn’t have anything to do with a man who had anything to do with her. I can’t for the life of me imagine what he even sees in her, anyway.”
“We’ve been through this before,” Janey pointed out. “Perfect face, perfect body…”
“Oh, that!” Maxine threw her a look of derision. “Physically, she’s perfection on a sodding stick. But mentally she’s nothing, no personality whatsoever. Half the time it’s like trying to hold a conversation with a bowl of fruit.”
“You mean she isn’t temperamental.” Janey grinned. “Like you.”
“I mean I’ve never seen her laugh,” snapped Maxine, aiming a kick at a heap of seaweed. “Josh was telling her jokes yesterday, and I swear she didn’t even get them. And then she has the nerve to discuss me with Guy, for God’s sake!”
Janey was struggling to hide her amusement. “At least that means they have conversations.”
“But you should have heard the way she said it,” howled Maxine. Kicking a bundle of seaweed along the shoreline was no longer enough; picking up the largest pebble within reach, she hurled it into the sea. “She was so bloody superior, and all the time I was having to bite my tongue because she thinks that now she’s moved in with Guy she’s home free. Except that I know,” she added darkly, “what he’s really been getting up to while she’s away.”
“Oh?” This was more like it. Janey, whose attention had begun to wander, looked interested.
“Exactly,” Maxine declared with an air of triumph. “Those other women of his haven’t given up on him yet. They still phone up, and he didn’t come home on Tuesday night until after three. That would wipe the smirk off Serena’s face, if she only knew.”
Tuesday, thought Janey. That was when she had bumped into him at the theater. Innocently, she asked, “Why, who was he with?”
“Which particular female, you mean?” countered Maxine, her voice awash with sarcasm. “Well, it was one of them, and that’s all that matters. When I asked Guy, he told me it was none of my business and not to be so damn nosy, so I knew he’d been up to no good.”
If Guy had walked out of the sea at that moment, Janey would have thrown her arms around him and covered him with kisses. Tempted though she’d been to beg him not to mention their chance meeting to Maxine, she hadn’t had the nerve to do so. But Guy hadn’t said a word about it anyway. Her shameful secret was safe.
“Maybe there’s an innocent explanation,” she suggested cheerfully, but that wasn’t what Maxine wanted to hear.
“What’s the matter with you?” Seizing another pebble and tossing it into the waves, she almost decapitated a passing seagull. “Taking his side all of a sudden? Give me a break, Janey—he has more women than he knows what to do with, and he was hardly going to spend the night playing Monopoly. The man’s about as innocent as Leonardo DiCaprio, and the least he could do is have the decency to let me in on the agenda. After all, I’m glad he’s seeing somebody else. Anyone’s better than that smug bitch Serena.”
“Perhaps he thinks you might run off and tell her,” said Janey.
“If I thought it would get rid of her, and if it didn’t mean risking my job,” Maxine replied crossly, “I bloody would!”
• • •
As children, they had always taken the same route around the cove. Now, reaching the rock pools, they made their way across the slippery boulders to their favorite pool, the one that always contained the most interesting wildlife and that provided two comfortable seats worn into the rock by centuries of tides.
Maxine, having finally run out of invective, dabbled her bare feet in the sun-warmed water and watched two miniature crabs skitter out of the way in alarm. “You haven’t been very sympathetic,” she grumbled, casting a sidelong glance at Janey’s fuchsia toenails. “What’s the matter? Are you still mad because we invaded your flat and spoiled your fun with Bruno?”
It was the first time the subject had been mentioned. Janey had been waiting for it to come up. She had also decided that there was no longer any point in holding back. “Don’t worry,” she replied cheerfully, “we’ve made up for it since then.”
“Oh. So you’re still seeing him.”
Maxine sounded disappointed. This had to be a first for her, thought Janey with a flicker of triumph. Two attractive men, neither of them the least bit interested in ever-popular, oh-so-irresistible Maxine Vaughan. Not what she was used to at all.
“I am,” she said with pride.
“Hmm.”
Now it was Janey’s turn to be annoyed. “Such enthusiasm,” she snapped. “You were the one who nagged me to find myself a man, and now I have. Couldn’t you at least pretend to be pleased?”
Maxine sighed. Although diplomacy had never been one of her strong points, she recognized that she would have to tread with care. “But he’s somebody else’s man,” she said, her tone even. “Janey, is this wise? What about the girl he’s living with?”
Janey’s mouth narrowed. This was rich; couldn’t-care-less Maxine was giving her a moral lecture. Talk about double standards.
“Look, Nina knows what he’s like, and she accepts it. If she doesn’t mind, why should I?”
“Oh, so you’ve asked her.” Maxine threw her a challenging stare.
“Of course I haven’t asked her.” Beginning to feel cornered, Janey retaliated crossly, “And I can’t believe I’m hearing this holier-than-thou rubbish from someone who once had an affair with a man because she’d ‘forgotten’ he was married!”
“That was me,” said Maxine, forcing herself to keep calm. “I’m different. But darling, sneaking around with a married man simply isn’t your style. You’re too nice…”
“Bruno isn’t married.”
This was Janey’s mantra, the phrase with which she endlessly comforted herself in order to justify her actions. Of course the situation wasn’t ideal, of course she wasn’t proud of herself, but at least Bruno was not married.
“She’s his common-law wife,” Maxine continued remorselessly. “They’ve been together for years.” Then she softened. “Oh, Janey, that isn’t why I’m against it. I just don’t want you to end up getting hurt, and I’m so afraid you will. Bruno isn’t your type of man. He’s—”
“You mean he’s your type,” Janey countered bitterly. “And you don’t want me to have fun. Well, I’ve spent the last twenty months not having any fun, and I’m not going to go back to that again. I like Bruno and he likes me. A lot.”
For the first time their roles had been reversed. Maxine, struggling to keep her older sister on the straight and narrow and to prevent her from being hurt, realized
that she wasn’t making a roaring success of the operation. It wasn’t as simple, she thought ruefully, as Janey had always made it look. But if she told her exactly what Bruno had suggested the other night, she would only splatter Janey’s fragile self-confidence and probably lose her friendship into the bargain. Hell, it was hard being a good guy.
“I’m sure he likes you,” she said cautiously. “But I still don’t think he’s the right man for you, sweetheart.”
“Stop it!” Janey had had enough. With a look of disdain, she rose to her feet. “I know it’s come as a shock to the system, but you’re just going to have to face up to it. Bruno prefers me. And you’re jealous.”
• • •
Life at the moment, Maxine decided, wasn’t being very fair. Returning to Trezale House, she ran into Guy at the foot of the stairs.
“I’ve been trying to work,” he said, gesturing with a handful of contact prints in the direction of the darkroom, “and the bloody phone keeps ringing. Someone called Bruno has rung three times asking to speak to you. He wants you to phone him back as soon as possible.”
Serena’s car was parked on the driveway outside. Glancing at it through the hall window, Maxine said, “Can’t Serena answer the telephone?”
“She’s in the bath.”
Josh and Maxine had taken to laying bets on the duration of Serena’s famous baths. The longest so far had been an hour and forty minutes. Maxine hoped Josh was upstairs timing this one. Keeping a straight face, she said, “Oh, right.”
“She also tells me that you lost your temper with her this afternoon.”
Maxine’s dark eyes flashed. “And did she happen to mention why?”
Guy nodded. For a moment she thought she detected a glimmer of a smile.
“OK, maybe she went a bit far, but there was still no need for you to fly off the handle like that. We all have to make allowances if we’re going to get on together.”