by Jill Mansell
“He was.” Terrified that Laurel was about to announce that she adored dogs, Ginny said hastily, “Although he wasn’t always clean, of course. Dogs will be dogs! Bellamy loved nothing more than splashing through muddy puddles or rolling in foxes’ poo.”
“Anyway, I’m sorry. And as soon as this bread’s done, I’m going to make a cherry and almond cake. Your favorite.”
“Right. Well, thanks.” Guiltily, Ginny said, “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. You deserve it. Perry rang while you were in the shower, by the way. I told him how happy I was here.”
Perry had rung! Ginny’s cheeks heated up at the mention of him. Or should he be addressed by his full name of Perry Bloody Lying Bastard?
Kneading away at the dough on the table, Laurel went on, “He said could you give him a call when you’ve got a moment. Something to do with setting up the direct debit.”
“Right, thanks.” Did that mean he really wanted to talk to her about the direct debit? Casually, Ginny said, “Well, I’d better be off. See you later.”
“Bye.” Laurel’s clear green eyes abruptly filled with tears and her chin began to tremble.
Oh God, what now? Bewildered, Ginny hesitated in the doorway.
“Are you… will you be OK?”
“Yes, yes.” Floury hands flapping, Laurel wiped her eyes with her thin upper arms and nodded at the radio, now playing the Osmonds’ “Crazy Horses.” “Sorry, it’s this song. It just reminds me so much of Kevin.”
***
Climbing into the car, Ginny told herself she’d phone Perry in her own good time. No need to appear overeager. She had lots to do today, lots to do, not least paying a visit to Penhaligon’s to see Ellie and discuss—
Oh sod it.
The moment Ginny was round the corner and out of sight of the house she pulled up at the curb and dug her mobile out of her bag.
“Hi there! How are you?” Perry sounded delighted to hear from her. “How’s everything going with Laurel?”
“Um, well…” Clutching the phone, Ginny cursed her inability to tell him the truth; it was all her parents’ fault for drumming into her as a child the importance of being polite. “Fine.”
“You see? Didn’t I tell you it would be? And Laurel’s so much happier now. You’ve done wonders with her.”
Ginny’s mouth was dry with anticipation. “Laurel said something about the direct debit?” Here was Perry’s cue to laugh and reply, “Hey, that was just an excuse to speak to you about our dinner date.”
Instead, he said, “Actually, that was just an excuse to speak to you about Laurel’s tablets. The thing is, she’d hate it if she thought I was checking up on her but it’s important that she keeps taking them. I thought maybe you could subtly remind her next week about dropping the repeat prescription into the pharmacy; otherwise, she’ll run out.”
And become even more depressed. It didn’t bear thinking about.
“Right.” Ginny bit her lip.
“Great.”
Disappointment flooded through her. “Is that all?”
“Yes, I think so. Well, I’ll leave you to get on…”
Buggering hell, that was all! The bastard! Sick to the back teeth of being polite—walked all over, more like—Ginny blurted out, “To be honest, I don’t think this is going to work. Maybe you should start looking for somewhere else for Laurel to live. I did say that if things didn’t work out I’d give you four weeks’—”
“Whoa, whoa.” Perry sounded alarmed. “I can’t believe you’re saying this.”
Ginny couldn’t quite believe it either, but she just had. The words had come tumbling out in a rush like baked beans from a can.
“Ginny, where are you now? We need to talk about this. Look, I know you don’t want to go out to dinner with me but could we at least meet up for a quick drink? Are you busy today?”
Flummoxed, Ginny heard herself stammer, “W-well no, I suppose not.”
“How about the Smugglers’ Rest? Around one-ish, would that suit you?”
One-ish. That was two whole hours away. Trying not to sound too eager, Ginny said, “One o’clock, the Smugglers’ Rest. Fine.”
***
Perry was already there when she arrived, waiting at the bar. Hesitantly, he greeted her with a handshake—a handshake!—and said, “It’s good to see you again, you’re looking… no, sorry, mustn’t say that. What can I get you to drink?”
Ginny waited until they were seated opposite each other at a table by the window before uttering the question that had been rampaging through her mind for the last two hours.
“On the phone, why did you say you knew I didn’t want to go out to dinner with you?”
Perry shrugged, glanced out of the window, looked uncomfortable.
“Because I could tell. Sorry, I really liked you and got carried away. Made a bit of an idiot of myself, I suppose. Not for the first time. Like I said, it’s scary having to make the first move and risk getting it wrong. And I realized I had, that’s all. It was pretty obvious you weren’t interested.” Clearing his throat, he took a drink. “Look, this is embarrassing for me. Could we change the subject?”
“No.” Far too curious to leave it now, Ginny said, “I don’t know what I did to make you think that. I thought everything was fine. You asked me if I’d like to go out to dinner and I said yes.”
Perry shook his head. “You said you might.”
“I meant yes.”
A glimmer of hope shone in his eyes. “I thought you were just being polite, sparing my feelings.”
“Well, I wasn’t,” said Ginny. “I’ve been waiting for you to ring, like you said you would. I wondered why you hadn’t called.”
Perry looked as if he didn’t believe her. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“I got it wrong?”
Ginny loved it that he was so vulnerable. “Completely wrong.”
He clasped his head in his hands. “I’m such a prat. It’s that fear-of-rejection thing. If I’m not five thousand percent convinced that someone’s interested, I back off.”
“Well, you shouldn’t.”
“Easier said than done.” Perry’s smile was crooked. “When you’ve been traumatized as a teenager, it kind of sticks with you. I plucked up the courage to invite a girl to the school disco when I was fifteen. She said OK and I was over the moon. Then I knocked on her front door to pick her up and her dad told me she’d gone out.”
“You poor thing!” exclaimed Ginny.
“So I went to the disco on my own and there she was, with all her friends, and everyone knew. It turned out she’d only said yes for a bet. I was the laughingstock of the whole school.”
Ginny’s heart went out to him; she could picture the scene, imagine the agony he must have endured.
“Children are so cruel.”
“Still, I should have grown out of it by now. Just goes to show what a coward I am.” Pausing then taking a deep breath, Perry said, “So if I asked you out to dinner, you’d really say yes?”
“I would.”
“Really really? And mean it? Five thousand percent sure about that?”
Who would have believed such a good-looking man—and one who appeared so confident on the surface—could be so unsure of himself? “Of course I mean it,” said Ginny. “Five thousand percent sure. Maybe even six.”
A broad smile spread across Perry’s face. “OK, before I lose my nerve again, how about tomorrow night?”
“I’d love that.” Ginny found herself nodding to emphasize just how much she’d love it.
“Great. We’ll go to Penhaligon’s.”
Ah.
“Maybe not Penhaligon’s. I’m seeing them this afternoon about a waitressing job.”
“Hey, good for you! They do fantastic food. OK, how about the Green Room on Tate Hill? I could meet you there at, say, eight o’clock?”
“Eight.” Ginny was nodding again, happier than she’d imagined possible.
“Promise you won’t stand me up?”
“I promise. So long as you don’t stand me up either.”
“No chance of that.” Perry grinned and took her hand, gave it a quick squeeze. “You’re incredible. No wonder Laurel’s so happy living with you. She’d be distraught if she had to leave.”
Oh God, that was true. Her conscience pricking, Ginny reached for her spritzer and took an icy gulp.
“So what’s she done?” said Perry. “Is she untidy?”
“No.”
“Doesn’t do her share of the housework?”
“No, it’s not that.”
“Makes too much noise?”
Ginny squirmed. If anything, Laurel didn’t make enough noise. She was quiet, thoughtful, considerate—technically, a model tenant with no annoying habits or antisocial tendencies.
“Does she break things? Use up all the hot water? Hog the TV remote?”
Laurel did none of these things. She just talked too much about Kevin, the man who had broken her heart.
“OK,” Ginny conceded. “She can stay.”
Perry’s look of relief said it all. “Thank you. Really. God, I could… kiss you!” He glanced around the pub, which was filling up. “Well, maybe not in here.”
“Chicken,” Ginny said playfully.
“Is that a challenge?” He rose to his feet and pulled her up to meet him. The next moment he was kissing her—kissing her properly—right there in the middle of the pub with everyone watching.
Crikey, not so chicken after all.
“Bloody disgusting if you ask me.” An ancient fisherman prop-ping up the bar gave a snort of disgust.
“Wow. They’re, like, really old,” giggled a skinny girl in a Day-Glo pink tube top.
A waitress, emerging from the kitchen with two plates piled high, shouted, “One vegetarian tart, one king-sized sausage.”
Cue sniggers all round.
Hastily collecting herself, Ginny took a step back. “Let’s get out of here.”
Perry looked amused. “Your fault. You dared me to do it.” Men, they really were the limit.
“Only because I didn’t think you would.”
Chapter 14
When Ginny arrived at Penhaligon’s, Evie Sutton greeted her like a long-lost sister. It was three o’clock and lunchtime service was over. They sat together over a pot of coffee in the empty restaurant discussing the job, hours, and wages, and Ginny filled in an application form.
“The shifts can be flexible, can’t they? I mean, we’re allowed to switch shifts if something crops up?” Apologetically, Ginny said, “It’s just that my daughter’s away at university. If she decides to come down and see me one weekend, I’d hate to be working non-stop.” Not that Jem was showing much sign of coming down any time soon, but she lived in hope.
“No problem.” Evie nodded to show she understood. “My three are all scattered around the country now; they’ve got their own lives. But when I can, I grab the chance to see them…”
“Oh I know. I miss Jem so much it’s embarrassing!” Recognizing a kindred spirit, Ginny said eagerly, “In fact I’ve got a couple of photos in my purse.”
“Me too!” Delightedly, Evie fetched her handbag from the office and brought out photographs of her own children. As they pored over them together, Ginny wondered why someone more like Evie—or better still Evie herself—couldn’t have replied to her ad for a lodger.
The phone rang in the office and Evie, in the middle of an anecdote about her younger son, went to answer it. Moments later the door of the restaurant opened and Finn Penhaligon strode in, raising an eyebrow when he saw Ginny sitting there. “Oh. Hi.”
“Hello.” Ginny felt her mouth go dry; it was still hard to look at him without being reminded of a four-poster bed and ivory drapes billowing in the breeze. She really was going to have to knock that fantasy on the head, particularly seeing as she was the hussy who’d been kissed not two hours ago in front of a whole pub full of customers.
“Where’s Evie?”
“In the office. I’m starting work here on Thursday, by the way. I’ll be working three lunchtime and four evening shifts.” Ginny indicated the filled-in form in front of her and watched him pick it up.
“Right. Fine.” Scanning through it, he nodded then glanced at the photographs still on the table. “Who’s that?”
“My daughter. Jem.” With Evie she had felt free to glow with pride and extol her daughter’s many virtues, but this time Ginny kept it low-key. Men were different.
Finn studied the photograph in silence. Finally, he said, “What happened to her?”
“What? Oh, the hair! It’s blond, but she had the tips dyed pink.”
“No, I mean…” He frowned. “Is this not the one who died?”
What?
“I don’t know what you mean.” Bemused, Ginny said, “Jem’s my only daughter. She isn’t dead!”
He shook his head. “You said she was. In the shop that day. That’s why the woman couldn’t bring herself to call the police.”
“I swear to God I didn’t say that! Why would I?”
“Who knows? To play on our sympathy and get yourself off a shoplifting charge?”
“You’re making this up!” Her eyebrows knitted in disbelief, Ginny shouted, “That’s a wicked thing to say!”
“You were hysterical. You told us you’d buried your dog that morning.” He shrugged. “Maybe that wasn’t true either.”
“It was true. I loved my dog!”
“And then the woman asked who we could call and you said there was no one,” Finn persisted. “You said your daughter wasn’t here anymore, that she was gone.”
The penny dropped. Mortified, Ginny realized that she had inadvertently misled them. “She was, but I didn’t mean she was dead. Jem’s alive and well and living in Bristol.”
Finn surveyed her steadily. “And there we were, feeling sorry for you.”
“You don’t say. Well, excuse me if I didn’t notice.”
“Anyway, you weren’t arrested. So it did the trick.”
“Let me guess,” Ginny said heatedly. “You don’t have any children. Do you?”
He surveyed her for a moment, then shook his head. “No.”
“Well, that’s pretty obvious, because if you did, you’d know that no decent parent would ever tell such a terrible lie to get out of anything. I would die for my daughter.”
“OK, OK. I’m sure you’re right. Anyhow, can we put all that behind us?” Raising his hands, Finn said, “We got off to a shaky start. But now you’re going to be working for me, so it’ll be a lot easier all around if we can just get along together. Don’t you think?”
Still outraged but realizing he was right, Ginny shook his outstretched hand and said, “Yes, I do.”
“Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a word with Evie.”
He disappeared through to the office. Ginny drank her lukewarm coffee and sat back, idly twirling the ends of her hair. This was where she would be working, in this sunny, eclectically furnished restaurant with its beamed ceilings and burnished oak floor. The paintings on the crimson walls were a beguiling mix of old and modern, the velvet curtains at the windows were held back with fat satin ropes and on every table stood an unmatched bowl or vase containing greenery and spring flowers.
Waiting for Evie to return and having nothing else to do other than study her surroundings meant that only a few minutes had elapsed before Ginny spotted the scrunched-up note on the floor.
Bending down and retrieving it from its position halfway under table six, she briefly considered tearing it into teeny tiny shreds.
That would teach him.
But twenty pounds was twenty pounds and she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, reaching into her handbag and taking out her purse—luckily she’d paid a visit to the ATM this morning—Ginny swapped the crumpled twenty-pound note for two crisp tens and replaced them under table six.
Minutes later, Evie bur
st back into the restaurant, followed by Finn.
“Sorry to leave you all on your own! Finn kept me talking.”
I’ll bet he did, thought Ginny, watching as Finn’s dark eyes flickered in the direction of table six. When he saw the two ten-pound notes on the floor he almost—almost—smiled.
“Nice try,” said Ginny as their eyes met.
“What?” Evie clearly hadn’t been in on the impromptu test.
Finn shook his head. “Nothing. Right, I’ll leave you to it. Looks like my New York dealer’s arrived.”
A long black car had pulled up outside the antiques center. Ginny and Evie watched as Finn strode across the courtyard to greet the dealer.
“Yikes, it’s a female. She won’t stand a chance.” Evie looked sideways at Ginny. “Did he just have another go at you?”
“He tried, but I’m getting used to him now. In fact, I had a bit of a go back.” Proudly, Ginny said, “He made one comment about Jem, and I told him it was obvious he wasn’t a father.”
“Ah. And what did he have to say about that?”
“Nothing. Well, he admitted he didn’t have children.”
Evie sat back down opposite her. “OK, seeing as you’re going to be working here, I’d better tell you. Finn was due to be married at Christmas. He and Tamsin had a baby last summer.”
“Oh God!” Covering her mouth in horror, Ginny gasped, “Don’t tell me the baby died!”
Evie shook her head. “No, nobody died. Mae was born in July, and she was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen—well, with parents like that, what else would you expect? Finn was completely besotted, you can’t imagine. He was just… lit up. You wouldn’t credit the change in him. He’d just bought this place, and we were working night and day to finish the renovations and get the restaurant up and running. But he couldn’t bear to tear himself away from Mae. She was always with him. You’ve never seen a happier man,” Evie said sadly. “He was a born father.”
Ginny was utterly mystified. “So what happened?”
“Oh God, it was awful. Finn was away one day at an auction in Wiltshire. I was here supervising the decorators in the restaurant when a taxi pulled up outside. This dark Italian-looking guy stepped out of the taxi, and I went over to see what he wanted. He said he’d come to collect Tamsin and Mae. The next thing I knew, Tamsin came running out of the flat above the antiques center—that’s where she and Finn were living with Mae—carrying a load of bags. She told me they were leaving. I couldn’t believe what was going on. She packed all her things and Mae’s into the taxi and gave me a letter to give to Finn. Well, by this time I was shaking. I said, ‘You can’t take Mae away from Finn; he’s her father.’ And this Italian-looking guy, who was Italian by the way, just laughed at me and said, ‘No, he isn’t. I’m Mae’s father.’ Then he looked at his watch and told Tamsin to get a move on, the helicopter was waiting and he had to be back in London by three.”