by Jill Mansell
“Oh, Janey, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Thea banged her coffee mug down on the table. “What happened wasn’t tragic. The real tragedy is Guy Cassidy’s pigheaded refusal to let bygones be bygones, because the children are the ones who suffer. All Oliver was trying to do was make it up to them.”
“Really?” Janey remained unimpressed. “And what’s he planning to do for an encore? Whisk them out of the country for a few months?”
This was ridiculous. Thea’s expression softened. “Oliver would never do anything like that. He’s a wonderful man, darling.”
Janey, who had thought Bruno was wonderful, replied unforgivingly, “I’m sure he is. As long as he’s getting his own way.”
There was a long silence. Finally, Thea said, “All right, so what happens now? What are you going to do for an encore?”
Janey, having already considered the options, shrugged. “You mean am I going to tell Guy? I don’t know, Mum. The thing is, can you be sure his father isn’t, in some obscure way, just using you? I’m serious,” she went on when Thea started to smile. “It’s all highly coincidental, after all. You’re Maxine’s mother, and Maxine looks after Josh and Ella. How do you know he hasn’t hatched some sinister plan?”
“Dear me.” Her mother shook her head and gave her an indulgent look. “And I thought Maxine was the drama queen of the family. Janey, take it from someone old enough to know. There’s nothing even remotely sinister about Oliver Cassidy, and there are no ulterior motives on his part. He loves me, and I love him. I’m sorry if that doesn’t meet with the approval of Maxine’s employer, but as far as I’m concerned, my private life is none of his business anyway. And if you feel you have to tell him, then do it, though personally I can’t see the point. From what I hear, hugs and smiles and forgiveness all around is pretty much off the cards, so all you’d be doing would be stirring it up again for no useful reason. Still,” she concluded with a take-it-or-leave-it gesture, “those are just my thoughts. As I said, it’s entirely up to you.”
Janey was now more undecided than ever. What her mother had said made sense. Keeping quiet, on the other hand, meant assuming responsibility for the secret. And it also meant not telling Maxine, who would be sure to tell Guy herself. If anything should ever go wrong, she thought with unease, she would be at least partly to blame. But Oliver Cassidy had seemed charming, and imprinted in her mind was the expression on his face after he’d written the brief message to accompany Thea’s flowers.
“How do you know he loves you?” she asked, gazing into her mother’s dark eyes.
“I’ve had nearly thirty years to learn from my mistakes in that field,” Thea replied simply. “This time it’s the real thing. Trust me, darling. When it happens like this, you do know…”
In that case, thought Janey as memories of Alan and Bruno flooded back, why don’t I?
• • •
Torrential rain the next day meant an early wrap for the fashion shoot Guy had been working on in the Cotswolds. Home by four thirty, he found Janey on the phone in the kitchen, the receiver tucked under her chin while she mashed parsnips with one hand and stirred a pan of gravy with the other. Her blond hair was loosely pinned up, and the violet sweatshirt she wore over white jeans was slipping off one shoulder. Her cheeks, pink from the heat of the oven, turned pinker still when she realized he was back.
“Oh, I didn’t hear you come in. Dinner won’t be ready for another hour yet…but there’s tons of hot water if you’d like a bath.”
Maxine, on the other end of the phone, groaned. “Uh oh, enter the dragon. Don’t tell him it’s me.”
“Who are you talking to?” said Guy, his tone deceptively mild.
“Nobody.” Janey’s innocent expression was foiled by the telltale deepening flush. “A friend.”
“Did anyone ever tell you you’re a hopeless liar?” With a brief smile, he crossed the kitchen, took the phone from her, and said, “Hello, Maxine.”
“Oh God.” In London, Maxine sighed. “Are you still mad at me?”
“What do you think?”
“You’re still mad,” she said penitently. “And I know that what I did was wrong, but you just didn’t understand how important this job is to me. I’m sorry, Guy, but I really was desperate…”
“Hmmm.” Glancing across at Janey, who was frenziedly tackling the parsnips and trying to look as if she wasn’t listening, he drawled, “Lucky for you you’ve got an understanding sister. I hope you appreciate the favor she’s done you.”
“I do, I do.” Maxine’s tone was fervent. Much to her relief, the expected bawling-out hadn’t happened. Not yet, anyway. Deciding to chance it, she added, “And aren’t you glad she’s there too? She’s so much better at cooking than I am.”
“She could hardly be any worse.”
“And Josh and Ella think she’s terrific!”
“Carry on like this and you’ll end up talking yourself out of a job. Or was that what you had in mind?” he inquired evenly. “If you’ve landed the lead in some dazzling West End production, Maxine, I’d rather you told me now.”
“Oh, but I haven’t! And I really don’t want to leave, Guy. I like working for you.”
“But?” he prompted when it became apparent that Maxine hadn’t the courage to say the word herself.
She crossed her fingers, hard. “But we aren’t going to finish shooting until Saturday, so I won’t be able to get back before Sunday morning.” The words came out in an apologetic rush. “I’ve already asked Janey, and she doesn’t mind a bit, but is that OK with you?”
If he was ever going to blow his top, it would happen now. As the silence lengthened, Maxine realized she was holding her breath.
“Why,” drawled Guy finally, “do I feel like a schoolboy who’s just found out the summer break is carrying on for an extra week?”
• • •
“Was he furious?” asked Cindy, who was wallowing in the Jacuzzi. It was nice having Maxine as a temporary houseguest while her husband was abroad; it was almost like being single again, sharing a flat and gossiping about men until three in the morning over bottles of wine.
“He wasn’t furious at all.” Maxine, perching on the edge of the bath, looked distinctly put out. “He was delighted.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“There’s a difference between agreeing to let me stay and being delighted,” said Maxine moodily. “It would be nice to feel a little bit missed. From the sound of it, they’re having a whale of a time down there without me.”
“Who knows?” said Cindy, holding out her glass for a top-up. “Maybe something’s going on between them. They could be having a rip-roaring affair.”
“Janey and Guy?” Maxine laughed. “Now I know you’ve had too much to drink.”
“I don’t see why it’s so funny. You told me he took her to a party the other week,” Cindy reminded her. “And he’s pretty irresistible, after all. Are you seriously telling me your sister would turn down the opportunity of a fling with Guy Cassidy?”
“I’m telling you that I spent a good couple of months trying to persuade him to have a fling with me,” said Maxine, tossing back her long blond hair and admiring her reflection in the full-length mirror. “And it didn’t bloody work. Boasting aside, darling, if he can ignore an offer like that, he’s hardly likely to be interested in Janey.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The phone rang again while Guy was taking a shower. Janey, picking it up, recognized titian-haired Charlotte’s voice at once. She could almost smell the perfume too, oozing down the line at her from Saint Ives.
“He’s upstairs in the shower,” she told Charlotte, who had asked to speak to Guy in deeply husky tones. “Can I take a message?”
“That isn’t Maxine.” Huskiness gave way to suspicion. “Who am I speaking to?”
For a moment, Jan
ey was tempted. Then, deciding that that would be cruel, she said, “Maxine’s taken a few days off. I’m just here looking after the children while she’s away.”
Charlotte, however, sounded unconvinced. “And you are…?”
“Janey. Maxine’s sister.” She wondered whether an apology might be expected for having been the cause of Charlotte’s abandonment at Bruno’s party. But she hadn’t dragged Guy away; if anything, he had dragged her.
“Oh. Right.” Thankfully, Charlotte didn’t mention it either. She sounded unflatteringly relieved, though, to hear that she wasn’t facing Serena-standard competition. “Well, in that case, maybe you could ask Guy to call me back.”
“Will do.” Josh had crept barefoot into the kitchen behind her. Janey watched his reflected image in the window as he surreptitiously reached for the cookie tin. “No more raisin cookies.”
Startled, Charlotte said, “I beg your pardon?”
“Sorry, I was speaking to somebody else.”
“How did you know I was there?” Josh protested. “I didn’t make any noise.”
“I heard the raisin cookies screaming for help.”
“Good Lord.” Charlotte sounded amused. “Look, while you’re there, would you happen to know whether Guy has anything on tonight?”
“Nothing at all at the moment,” said Janey. “He’s in the shower.”
“I mean any plans.”
“I don’t think so. He told me I could go out for the evening if I wanted, so he must be staying in.”
“Oh. And where are you going, somewhere nice?”
The CIA had nothing on Charlotte. Smiling to herself, Janey replied, “I don’t have any plans either. I’ll probably just stay here.”
“That sounds nice.” Charlotte sounded immeasurably cheered by the news. “OK then, if you could just ask Guy to ring me back as soon as he’s out of the shower. You won’t forget now, will you?”
• • •
“Oh hell.” Guy looked bored. “That means she’s going to invite me over for dinner.”
“Stop eating then,” scolded Janey, because he’d already helped himself to three sausages and she hadn’t even dished up yet.
“But I don’t want to go. No, I can’t face it.” He shook his head. “She’ll float around in some kind of negligee and try to get me drunk so I won’t be able to drive home. When she phones back, say I’ve gone out.”
“Then I’ll get the blame for not passing on the message,” she protested. God, men were callous beasts. “No, you’ve got to ring her.”
Guy shrugged. “OK, I’ll tell her I’ve already made other arrangements.”
Janey looked shamefaced. “I said you hadn’t.”
“Then I’ll tell her I have to stay in and look after the kids because you’re going out.”
“Oops,” said Janey. “She’s already asked me that. I told her I wasn’t.”
He mimed mock despair. “So how long have you been taking this truth drug?”
“I can’t help it,” Janey protested with a grin. “I’m just a naturally honest person.”
“One of you must have been adopted then. You can’t be Maxine’s sister.”
“And you can’t keep changing the subject like this.” In order to spur him into action, she whisked his plate out of reach. “She’s sitting at home, waiting for you to call her back. Do it.”
“Now who’s being bossy?” he grumbled, pinching yet another sausage from Ella’s plate as he headed for the kitchen phone. “You’re far nicer to my children than you are to me.”
Janey gave him a guileless smile. “You pay me to be nice to your children.”
“She’d be nicer,” Josh told his father, “if she didn’t make us help with the dishes.”
Just listening to Guy’s side of the phone call was uncomfortable enough. Janey, squirming on the other woman’s behalf, decided that if she were Charlotte, she would have died of embarrassment. But still it went on, Guy tactfully saying no and Charlotte—clearly not embarrassed at all—shooting one excuse after another down in flames.
“Look, maybe another time,” he said eventually, several toe-curling minutes later. “But not tonight, Charlotte. Really. I have to be in London first thing tomorrow morning, and it’s been a tough few days. Yes, I know that’s what I said last week, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t still true.”
More muffled protests ensued. Guy glanced across at Janey for help. She, unable to look at him, picked up the pepper mill and over-seasoned her baked tomatoes.
“OK.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “If you must know, I have to stay here tonight. It’s Janey; she’s absolutely petrified of being left alone in this house. Yes, I know it sounds ridiculous, but she has this thing about burglars breaking in with shotguns. We’re so isolated here, you see; I only have to mention going out for the evening and she starts gibbering with fear. Charlotte, I’m sorry, but you have to understand, I can’t possibly abandon her…”
“Thanks a lot,” said Janey when he returned to the table. “Why are all men such shameless liars?”
“The first four excuses were true.” He gave her a what-can-you-do shrug. “And she didn’t believe any of them. Sometimes you have to resort to a little elaboration.”
It was certainly instructive, seeing the situation from a male point of view. Curious, she said, “But if you aren’t, you know…well, interested in her, why don’t you just say so?”
Josh and Ella, evidently accustomed to such goings-on, were unfazed by the conversation.
“He tried doing that last week,” Josh explained kindly. “But all she did was cry. Then she phoned Dad back, right in the middle of Coronation Street, and cried some more.”
“So he took the telephone off the hook,” said Ella. “But that didn’t work either. She got into her car and came here, still crying. It was really mean of her,” she added, her expression indignant. “It was only eight o’clock, and it wasn’t even our fault, but we had to go up to bed.”
“You see?” protested Guy. “I get the blame for everything. I can’t do anything right.”
Janey, still acutely aware of the fact that she had made almost as much of an idiot of herself with Bruno, couldn’t help feeling sorry for Charlotte, who was probably weeping buckets right now.
“You must have led her on.” She tried to look disapproving. “If you really don’t want to see her again, it would be far kinder to say so and put her out of her misery.”
He looked surprised. “Rather than let her down gently?”
“There’s nothing worse than not knowing where you stand.” Janey spoke with feeling. She lowered her voice, although Josh and Ella had by this time lost interest. “You should tell her, you know. It’ll be easier all around if you do. Even Charlotte will appreciate it in the long run.”
“Oh hell.” He gave a sigh of resignation. “I hate these emotional showdowns. This is going to be no fun at all.”
At least he wasn’t the one being dumped. Janey wondered if he’d ever been on the receiving end of a verbal “Dear John.” Somehow, she seriously doubted it. “You’ll go and see her then? Tonight?”
With reluctance, he nodded. Then grinned. “Only if you’re sure you can cope with being left alone in the house for an hour or so?”
“Oh, I think I can stand it,” said Janey bravely. “If any burglars turn up, I’ll just send them into Maxine’s bedroom. That should be enough to put them off looting and pillaging for life.”
• • •
By the time he got back, it was almost nine thirty. Janey had put Josh and Ella to bed and was finishing the dishes.
“Leave that,” said Guy, opening a bottle of wine and taking two glasses out of the cupboard. “Come and help me drink this. I need it.”
“Was it awful?”
He ran his fingers through his dark
hair and pulled a face. “Pretty much. Shit, I feel like such a bastard. She said she wished she’d never met me.”
“She didn’t mean it,” said Janey consolingly. “She just feels let down. Charlotte liked you more than you liked her, that’s all. And when it ends, it hurts.”
“That’s what she said,” mused Guy. “The trouble is, she blames me. But you have to get to know someone before you can decide whether you’re suited. By the time you realize the relationship doesn’t have a future, it’s too late. They like you, so they end up getting hurt.” He paused, then added, “Hardly an earth-shattering revelation, I know. It’s just that I’ve never really discussed it with anyone before.”
“Whereas we women discuss it all the time,” said Janey with a grin. “I told you, you should have stuck at those books of Mimi’s. They’d have taught you everything you needed to know.”
• • •
“I thought you were supposed to be having an early night,” she protested three hours later.
This was an altogether different Janey from the one he had taken away from Bruno’s party, Guy reflected. Now, relaxed and perfectly at ease, interested in hearing what he had to say yet at the same time totally unpushy, she had managed to make him forget the time completely. And he too was relaxed; it was such a relief to be able to talk to someone who wasn’t even attempting to flirt with him or advance her own cause.
But despite Janey’s apparent conviction that she was less attractive than her younger sister, he didn’t agree. Tonight, wearing virtually no makeup, with her honey-blond hair loosely held up with combs and her violet sweatshirt still slipping off one shoulder, he found her uncontrived beauty infinitely more attractive. Her summer tan showed no signs of fading, her complexion was flawless, and those chestnut-brown eyes, alight with humor, didn’t need shadows and eyeliners to make them spectacular; just as the soft, perfectly shaped mouth had nothing to gain by being plastered with lipstick.
He found himself comparing their manner with the children too, for although Josh and Ella adored Maxine and her slapdash, highly individual ways, her wit was on occasions too acute for comfort, leaving them unsure whether she had actually meant it. Maxine could be unpredictable, which in turn made Ella edgy and Josh mildly resentful. Young children appreciated continuity and the security of knowing just where they stood. Berenice, of course, had been stability personified, while Maxine was all fun and backchat, but if he could choose the ideal nanny, Guy realized, it would be someone like Janey, who tempered control with gentle humor. She was also easy on the eye—unlike poor Berenice, he thought with a stab of guilt—extremely good company, and not the least bit interested in shooting off at short notice to star in toilet-roll commercials.