Sheer Mischief

by Jill Mansell

  Just for a second, Maxine experienced a pang of longing for those lost luxuries. Of course she had loved living in a splendid house, swanning around in smart cars, flashing a diamond ring the size of a beechnut at anyone who came within a two-mile radius, never having to worry about the next gas bill… But it hadn’t been enough. And, having left that life behind her, she had never even for a moment regretted doing so.

  “Oh yes, it was nice,” she said. “But I gave it all up, didn’t I? And I gave the engagement ring back to him, in case you were wondering. It cost nine thousand pounds, but I still did it.”

  “Pity,” murmured Bruno. “That’s one noble gesture you might live to regret.”

  “Yes, well.” Maxine couldn’t help agreeing with him there, but a girl had to have some scruples. Brown eyes flashing, she said proudly, “At least it proves I’m not a fortune hunter.”

  Unable to resist making the dig, he countered, “What about Guy Cassidy? Would you have lusted after him if he’d been penniless and unknown?”

  “Guy doesn’t count,” Maxine declared flatly. “I wanted to work for him because he could have boosted my career. Not that it did the slightest bit of good,” she grumbled. “Do you know, in all the time I’ve been there, he hasn’t taken so much as a single photograph of me? I’m sure that’s out of spite.”

  “Don’t worry.” Bruno gave her a hug. “I’ll take thousands of photos of you.”

  “You aren’t influential and famous.”

  “I’m not rich either.”

  She smiled. “I don’t care. Really.”

  “So what’s the verdict?” Bruno realized that he was holding his breath. There are only a few moments in a lifetime when real decisions have to be made. This was one of those moments. “Do we give it a whirl?”

  Maxine, both exhilarated and afraid, said in a low voice, “It isn’t going to be easy, you know. Being poor is the least of our worries. We’re going to upset quite a few people. You have Nina to deal with. I have Janey.”

  “What are you,” Bruno demanded, “a bloody politician? Answer the question, Max. Does that mean yes or no?”

  “You idiot.” Fondly she caressed his tanned arm. “How can you even ask? You saw through me right from the start. You knew I loved you almost before I knew it myself.”

  “You’re going to have to say it,” he persisted evenly. “Yes, Maxine? Or—”

  “Darling!” she exclaimed, loving him even more for his insecurity and hurling herself into his arms. “Don’t panic! I am the original girl who can’t say no.”

  Chapter Forty

  “This is terrible,” said Janey, looking at her watch and seeing that it was almost ten o’clock. “There are so many things we should be doing. We really ought to get up.”

  “What could be more important than this?” Alan, who didn’t want to move, kissed the top of her head. “Making love, catching up on lost time, getting to know one another all over again…”

  “Phoning the police,” she continued drily.

  “What?”

  Janey smiled. “You’re on the missing persons’ register. One of us is going to have to let them know you’re no longer missing.”

  “Oh God.” Alan shuddered. “You can do that. What do you suppose they’ll do…come over and rap my knuckles for running away without leaving a note?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea, but we still have to phone them.” Janey, wriggling out of reach, slid out of bed and grabbed her robe. “And Paula’s downstairs, running the shop on her own. She doesn’t even know I’m up here. If she starts hearing footsteps, she’ll think we’re burglars.”

  “Why?” Alan’s eyes narrowed. “Where does she think you spend your nights? Come to that,” he added with growing suspicion, “who were you with last night? That was a pretty smart car you leaped out of. Are you sure there isn’t something you aren’t telling me?”

  Janey hadn’t given Guy Cassidy so much as a thought until now. Belatedly, she realized that she must have caused him considerable inconvenience. He had been due to fly up to Manchester at seven for a photo session with the much sought-after, deeply temperamental supermodel Valentina di Angelo. She prayed that in letting him down at such short notice he wouldn’t have to cancel the entire shoot.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” she said in reassuring tones, still mindful of the unfounded suspicions that had prompted Alan’s disappearance in the first place. “Maxine moved back down here a few months ago and took a nannying job up at Trezale House, but for the past week she’s been in London making a TV advertisement. I offered to look after the children while she was away, so I’ve been staying at the house and Paula’s taken over in the shop. Everyone’s been doing everyone else’s job,” she added cheerfully. “It’s been fun.”

  “You always liked children.” Alan’s expression grew bleak. “That was something else that scared me. I knew you wanted a family of your own, but I was afraid you’d love them more than you loved me.”

  Janey stared at him, appalled. “It doesn’t work like that.”

  “Sometimes it does.” A note of urgency crept into his voice. “Look, sweetheart. I’ve come back, and we’re going to make it work this time, but I still wouldn’t be happy if you suddenly announced you were pregnant. So, no little accidents. No ‘Surprise, surprise, darling, I can’t think how it happened, but…’ announcements. Because that’s something I just couldn’t handle. OK?”

  “No little accidents,” Janey repeated numbly, stunned by the bombshell and by the suddenness with which it had been dropped. She would never have dreamed of intentionally becoming pregnant without Alan’s knowledge and approval, but neither would she ever have guessed the strength of his own feelings on the subject. He was evidently deadly serious.

  Having got that bit of information off his chest, however, he cheered up and changed the subject.

  “So Maxine’s been working as a nanny, you say? Heaven help those poor kids! What mother in her right mind would employ someone like Maxine, anyway?”

  Janey picked up her hairbrush and sat in front of the mirror. “It isn’t a mother, it’s a father. A widower.”

  “Oh well.” Alan stretched and yawned. “That explains it. Old or young?”

  “Thirtyish.” Janey set about restoring some semblance of normality to her hair. “Coming up to thirty-five, I think.”

  “Really,” he drawled, watching her reflection in the mirror. “And is he good-looking?”

  Janey carried on brushing. “I suppose so. If you like that sort of thing,” she added, her tone deliberately offhand.

  “And do you like that sort of thing?”

  “Stop it.” As she swiveled around to face him, the robe fell open to reveal her bare legs. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the brush. “Don’t try and read something into a perfectly innocent situation. I was doing Maxine a favor, that’s all. I’m not interested in Guy, and he certainly isn’t interested in me.”

  “Why not? Is he gay?”

  “Of course he isn’t gay.” Janey replied wearily. “He has women coming out of his ears. And he isn’t interested in anyone unless they’re drop-dead gorgeous, OK? You’d have to have at least half a dozen covers of Vogue under your belt before Guy Cassidy would even notice you. Even Maxine didn’t qualify, which really pissed her off.”

  “Guy Cassidy the photographer? Is that who you’re talking about?” Alan sat up and took notice. Evidently impressed, he said, “And he’s the one whose kids you’ve been looking after?”

  Janey nodded. He was also the one she’d been hideously rude to last night. She would have to phone and apologize.

  “Oh well. That’s all right, then.” Alan grinned with relief. “And there I was, thinking I had a rival on my hands. I see what you mean now about the gorgeous girls. He can have just about anyone he wants.”

  And although it was undou
btedly true, Janey couldn’t help feeling a bit miffed. Having allayed Alan’s suspicions, she now had to bite her tongue in order not to blurt out: “Yes, but he held my hand last night, and he kissed me…”

  But that would be childish, and it had only been a jokey kiss anyway, not a real one. Instead, feeling very second best, she said lightly, “Of course he can have anyone he wants. So he’s hardly likely to be interested in me, is he?”

  “Exactly.” Nodding in vigorous agreement, Alan then leaned over and gave her bare knee a consoling pat. “Sorry, sweetheart, it isn’t very flattering, but you know what I mean. He’s had some of the best in the world, lucky sod. I even heard he had a bit of a thing going with that dark-haired model Serena Charlton. Christ,” he added, rolling his eyes in deep appreciation, “if that isn’t drop-dead gorgeous, I don’t know what is.”

  • • •

  Maxine, guiltily in love and desperately confused, wasn’t looking forward to the next twenty-four hours.

  “I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up about,” said Bruno as their train drew into Trezale station. He had insisted they travel back together, and Maxine had grown more and more jittery by the mile. “It isn’t like you. Here, d’you want to finish this?”

  She took the lukewarm gin and tonic from him, swallowed, and pulled a face. “The whole thing isn’t like me. Look, I may have been involved with married men before, but they were just flings. Nobody’s ever done anything as drastic as leaving their wife on my behalf. And even if they’d wanted to, I wouldn’t have let them.” The breathe-if-you-dare Alaïa dress had gone back into Cindy’s walk-in wardrobe. Now, wearing her own jeans and a striped shirt knotted at the waist, she looked younger and infinitely more vulnerable.

  “Relax. Let me take care of Nina.” Bruno grinned. “And how many times do I have to tell you, anyway? She isn’t my wife.”

  Maxine gazed gloomily out of the window as the train creaked to a halt. “That doesn’t make me feel any less guilty. It’s still going to be horrible.”

  “Ah, but I’m worth it.”

  She thought of Janey, whose fragile self-confidence was about to be shattered, and of Guy’s disdainful reaction to the news. Even people she only vaguely knew were going to disapprove, on principle. But she really did love Bruno, and he loved her. Besides, she no longer appeared to have any choice in the matter.

  “You’d better be worth it,” she murmured, rising to her feet and mentally preparing herself for the fray. “For everyone’s sake, you’d better be.”

  • • •

  It was nine o’clock when she let herself into the house. Guy, of all people, was cooking in the kitchen. Highly diverted by the spectacle, Maxine watched him pile burned french fries and enormous fillet steaks onto three plates. Ella, cringing at the sight of blood, was wailing, “Ugh, I hate fillet steak. Why can’t we have proper food instead?”

  “I like fillet steak!” announced Maxine from the doorway. “Is there enough for me? And where’s Janey?”

  Ella, sensing salvation, ran over and gave her a hug. “Hooray, you’re back. If you cook me some beefburgers you can have my steak. Janey went home after the fair last night. She called Daddy a bastard and jumped out of the car because she wanted to see her husband. Actually, I’d rather have fish fingers than beefburgers, but not burned like the fries. Daddy’s a terrible cook. I’m really hungry,” she added boastfully, “because I’ve been up in a helicopter to Manchester.”

  Where convoluted storytelling was concerned, thought Maxine, Ella could give Dan Brown a run for his money. Thoroughly confused, she turned to Guy. “I think I need a translator. So what really happened last night? You and Janey had an argument and she stormed off in a huff?”

  Guy threw the frying pan into the sink, which was already overflowing with dishes. “Her husband came back.”

  “What!” Maxine gazed at him in disbelief. “You mean Alan? Are you sure?”

  “I already said that,” Ella complained. Having rifled the freezer, she now shoved three icy fish fingers into Maxine’s unsuspecting hands. “Why didn’t you listen to me? Shall I tell you all about the helicopter while you cook my tea?”

  “He’s back,” continued Guy evenly. “I don’t know any more than that. We were driving past the shop and he was waiting outside.”

  Still stunned, Maxine said, “So what did you argue about?”

  “I told her to be careful, to find out why he’d turned up after all this time.” He shrugged. “Maybe I wasn’t very subtle. It didn’t go down well.”

  “I still can’t believe it.” Maxine sank into the nearest chair. “My God, that man has a nerve! Poor Janey.”

  “Quite. I was going to phone her this evening, but I’m not exactly the flavor of the month.” Guy picked up an overdone fry, gazed at it for a second, and put it down again. “Maybe you should do the honors. Make sure everything’s all right.”

  “How can it be all right?” Maxine, who had never had much time for Alan Sinclair, looked gloomy. “He’s back, isn’t he? It’s bad news all around, if you ask me.”

  But she found herself faced with a moral dilemma. As the news gradually sank in, it became more and more obvious that since Alan had returned, telling Janey about herself and Bruno was going to be an awful lot easier if Janey was happy. Telling Janey that in her opinion Alan was a no-good, selfish son of a bitch who deserved a boot up the bum, on the other hand, wasn’t going to make her very happy at all.

  • • •

  “Haven’t you phoned her yet?” Guy, coming into the kitchen at ten thirty, found her half-heartedly tackling the mountain of dishes.

  “I tried,” fibbed Maxine, who had been putting it off as long as she could. “No answer. She must be out.”

  “Out of her mind.” Guy picked up a fluffy, Day-Glo pink rabbit—one of Ella’s trophies from last night’s trip to the fair—and placed it on the dresser next to a cross-eyed furry pig. “My God, hasn’t he done enough damage already?”

  “All this concern,” she said in lightly mocking tones, “when you don’t even know him.”

  “I’ve heard enough. And you aren’t exactly his greatest fan yourself.” He gave her a sharp look. “You were the one who told me what a bastard he was in the first place.”

  “I know, but I’ve been thinking.” Maxine concentrated on the dishes, scrubbing furiously at Josh’s cornflake-encrusted breakfast bowl. “You know how stubborn Janey can be. If you ask me, the more critical we are of Alan, the more likely she is to dig her heels in and take his side. I really think the best thing we can do is pretend to be pleased he’s back. That way, she can make up her own mind, in her own time, without sacrificing her pride.”

  Guy nodded in grudging agreement. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “Of course I’m right.” That had gone well. Maxine, pleased with herself, said, “I always am.”

  “And it makes things so much easier for you,” he continued smoothly. “What a happy coincidence.”

  Damn. She raised her eyebrows. “A happy coincidence? Sorry, I’m not with you.”

  “I know you aren’t,” said Guy. “You’re with Bruno Parry-Brent.”

  “Oh.” Maxine gave up. So he had recognized Bruno’s car when he’d dropped her off earlier, after all.

  No more deceit, Bruno had told her. No need for denials. We’re going public. Well, here goes. She raised her chin in defiance. “Yes, I’m with Bruno. I wasn’t before, when you thought I was. But I am now.”

  “Dear God.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  Guy looked amused. “I expect so, but at least it isn’t mine. One thing I will say about you and Janey.”

  “What?” Maxine bristled, aware of the fact that it wasn’t going to be flattering.

  He grinned. “You really do have the most extraordinary taste in men.”

  Chapter Forty-One
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  In any event, Janey rang the house first.

  “Oh, hi. It’s me,” she said hesitantly when Guy picked up the phone. “Look, I know it’s late, but I wanted to apologize for last night. I said some horrible things, and I’m really sorry.”

  “No problem.” Guy couldn’t help smiling to himself because Janey’s idea of horrible things was on a par with Maxine’s scathing off-the-cuff one-liners. “Believe me, I’ve been called worse.”

  “And I let you down,” she continued, clearly racked with guilt. “I know how important the Manchester trip was, and I feel terrible about it. Were you able to find a babysitter?”

  “No.”

  “Oh God, I’m sorry.”

  “But it didn’t matter. The kids came up with me. So if you ever want to be bored rigid for thirty minutes by a seven-year-old describing what it’s like to fly in a helicopter,” he added wryly, “just ask Ella.”

  “Really?” Immeasurably relieved, Janey started to laugh. “I didn’t ruin the whole day then.”

  “Well, the pilot may take a while to recover, but all in all it was a great success.” Guy paused, then said casually, “And am I allowed to ask how you are? Is everything…sorted out?”

  “Everything is completely sorted out.” Her voice grew guarded, as if in anticipation of more Are you sure you know what you’re doing? remarks. With some awkwardness, she went on, “Look, it’s a bit complicated, and I can’t really explain over the phone, but I understand now why he did what he did. Now he’s back and we’re giving it another go. Starting afresh. And I know what you’re probably thinking, but it’s my life, he’s my husband, and no, he didn’t run off with another woman…”

  “Shh,” said Guy as her voice rose. “Calm down. You don’t have to justify yourself to me. I’m not going to criticize your decision, Janey. I’m hardly in a position to, considering the lousy mistakes I’ve made over the past few years. Besides,” he added, choosing his words with care, “it was what you wanted, wasn’t it? And now you’ve got it—a second chance of happiness. For heaven’s sake, it’s what anyone would want.”