by Jill Mansell
“Sorry. I’m not in a glamorous mood.” Ginny, who had spent the evening putting on a determinedly brave face, shook her head.
“Is it about Perry?”
“God, no.”
“Jem then,” Finn guessed.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“You’re missing her.”
“Missing her and worrying about her. She’s got herself involved with a boy I don’t trust an inch.” Ginny could recall this afternoon’s breezy phone call from Jem practically word for word. Evidently, she and Rupert were a proper couple now; Lucy had moved out to give them some space, and everything was fantastic. When Ginny had said worriedly, “Lucy’s gone? Won’t you miss her?” Jem had laughed and said blithely, “Mum, why would I miss her when I’ve got Rupert? Everything’s cool!”
Her laugh, Ginny hadn’t been able to help noticing, had got a bit posher in the last fortnight.
“She’s only eighteen. It probably won’t last.” Finn was doing his best to reassure her.
“Yes, but what if it does? They’re living together.” Ginny shuddered as she said it. “And he’s not a nice person. Too much money, too little… heart. He thinks he’s God’s gift.”
“Good-looking, then?”
“Very.”
“Is that why you don’t trust him?”
She nodded. “That and his personality.”
“Then she’ll see through him,” said Finn. “Jem’s not stupid. She’s a bright girl.”
“I didn’t think I was stupid either,” Ginny retorted, “and look at what happened to me.”
“Well, that’s over now. Ready for another one?”
For a split second she thought he meant another man. But no, he was only taking her empty glass. Crikey, two whole units of wine and she didn’t even remember drinking them.
“It’s just so hard, having to sit back and do nothing. I know I have to let her make her own mistakes but I’m her mother.” Taking the refilled glass, Ginny said, “It’s like standing by while a surgeon operates on your daughter, knowing he’s incompetent and doing it all wrong.”
“Hey.” Finn patted the empty space next to him on the sofa. “They’re young. Give them a couple of weeks and it could all be over.”
Ginny left the squirming kittens in the cat basket and joined him. The shirt he was wearing was her favorite, cobalt blue cotton and as soft as peach skin. Well, it looked as soft as peach skin; she hadn’t actually touched it. Nor was she about to tell him it was her favorite.
“I hope you’re right about that. She’s smitten at the moment. He’s whisking her up to a castle in Scotland this weekend. In a helicopter, for God’s sake.”
Drily, Finn said, “Sounds familiar.”
“Oh bugger. Sorry.” Too late, Ginny remembered how Tamsin had made her exit from Portsilver, whisked away by her wealthy Italian lover in a helicopter. She clutched Finn’s arm. “I’m really sorry; I didn’t mean to remind you.”
Ha, the material of his shirt was as soft as peach skin.
He smiled slightly. “I hadn’t actually forgotten.”
“Wine’s gone to my head. I was too wound up to eat earlier.” Ginny patted her empty stomach by way of explanation. “Now I’ll have to get a cab home.”
“My fault for opening the bottle.”
“Or mine for coming up to see your etchings. I mean kittens.”
“Hey, you’re here now. You’ve seen the kittens and the bottle’s open. We may as well finish it.”
It? Singular? Now that the alcohol was spreading nicely through her bloodstream, Ginny couldn’t help feeling that one bottle between two people somehow wasn’t quite… ooh, what was the word?
Oh yes. Enough.
Sensing her disappointment, Finn topped up her glass once more and said good-humoredly, “Don’t worry, there’s another one in the fridge.”
Myrtle and the kittens fell asleep. For the next forty minutes they drank wine, ate crisps, and discussed the restaurant. Evie had been chatted up earlier by an estate agent who had done his best to persuade her to give him her phone number.
“I don’t know why she wouldn’t.” Finn frowned. “He seemed like a nice enough chap.”
“Too nice.” Ginny did her best to explain why Evie hadn’t been remotely tempted. “Verging on oily. That man was a super-smooth operator. Yuck.”
“He was handsome though, wasn’t he?”
“Way too handsome. You wouldn’t want to get involved with someone like that, not in a million years.” Ginny dabbed at the crisp crumbs speckling her top and licked her fingers, then washed down the saltiness with more wine.
“I don’t want to get involved with him,” said Finn.
She gave him a nudge. “I meant no woman with an ounce of brain would want to. Good-looking men are nothing but trouble.”
“First Rupert, now the guy from table six. They’re good-looking so you automatically don’t trust them.” Finn paused. “Isn’t that a bit prejudiced?”
“Absolutely. But it’s also common sense. OK-looking men are OK, but really handsome men are a nightmare. Number-one rule: don’t touch them with a barge pole.”
“I see.” Raking his fingers through his hair, Finn said thoughtfully, “Can I ask you a question?”
Ginny was in a generous mood. “Anything you like.”
“Would you say I was good-looking?”
Yeesh, not that question.
“What?” She sat back, as if he’d asked her to calculate a tricky algebraic equation. Actually, an algebraic equation would have been easier.
“I’m interested. When I look in a mirror I just see me, the same me I’ve always been,” said Finn. “Dark hair, straight not curly. Gray eyes. Scar on left temple from some kid at school hitting me with a discus. Nose got broken once playing rugby, but still in one piece. Jaw, generally in need of a shave. That’s it, that’s all I see.” He gazed at Ginny. “But I have been told I’m a good-looking bloke. Quite a few times, to be honest. So I just wondered what your opinion was. Do you think I am?”
If he had the guts to ask, Ginny decided, then she had the guts to answer. Glad of the insulation provided by several glasses of wine she said, “OK, first things first, you really shouldn’t have allowed your nose to go off and play rugby. And second, of course you’re good-looking.”
Finn tilted his head a fraction, still doubtful. “Really?”
Did he seriously have no idea? Ginny nodded and said, “Really.” Then, because he clearly needed the reassurance, she added, “Very.”
Finn studied his wine glass for a couple of seconds, but she began to suspect that he was struggling to keep a straight face. “So you’re saying it doesn’t matter how nice a person I might be or how much I might like you; you wouldn’t be interested in me because of the way I look.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake, he’d been teasing all along. If she’d been sober, Ginny realized, she would be all of a fluster now. In fact, in a state of utter fluster.
But by a stroke of luck she wasn’t, so she shrugged and said cheerfully, “Correct.”
“That’s discrimination.”
“Don’t feel too sorry for yourself. You don’t do too badly. Plenty of women out there who wouldn’t turn you down.” Teasingly, Ginny added, “Flower girl for a start.”
“But I’m not talking about other women. I’m talking about you. You’re saying you wouldn’t consider a relationship with someone like me, purely because of my external appearance.”
Now Ginny was beginning to feel flustered but it was too late to back down. Anyway, he was only saying “someone like him.” It wasn’t as if he was actually referring to himself.
She didn’t know whether to nod or shake her head. “Yes… I mean no… I mean, that’s right.”
“But that would be unfair. You’d be dismissing me without giving me a chance. So technically I could take you to court,” Finn said idly. “I could sue you for unfair dismissal.”
Decidedly hot now, Ginny took another glug
of wine. “Fine. So sue me.”
There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I’d rather try and persuade you to change your mind.”
“That’s bordering on smooth talk. If you carry on like that, you’ll end up like Evie’s estate agent.”
“Sorry. Fate worse than death. So you’re saying men like me are useless when it comes to long-term investments. We’re only good for meaningless flings, have I got this right?”
“Pretty much.” Ginny shrugged in agreement.
“And you were only saying last week how you wished you could have a meaningless fling.”
OK, now there was no getting away from it. He was definitely suggesting what she thought he was suggesting. Her mouth drier than ever, Ginny said, “Was I?”
“Oh yes. You were.” There was a note of playful challenge in his voice. “And I’m just saying, if you still feel the same way, I wouldn’t object.”
Yeek.
“That’s very generous of you.” Ginny paused. “But where would I find a good-looking man to have a meaningless fling with at this time of night?”
Finn laughed. Then he leaned toward her. “Close your eyes.”
Yeeeeeek.
“Why?” As if she didn’t know.
“Will you stop arguing and just do it?”
He wanted to. And he was gorgeous. What’s more, she’d fantasized about this happening for months.
Casting all doubt aside, Ginny stopped arguing and just did it.
***
How could you regret an experience like that? God, how could anyone?
It was one o’clock in the morning when Ginny slid out of bed. The sex had been glorious, like losing her virginity all over again. Actually, that was a stupid comparison; tonight had been a million times better than her first time. But it was also, now, undeniably tinged with awkwardness because she had to keep reminding herself that she and Finn weren’t in a relationship, that this was only a meaningless fling. So instead of the two of them lying in each other’s arms, whispering and laughing together and, well, making plans to see each other again, she had to pretend to be a modern, no-strings kind of girl who’d had a great time but now needed to get home, put it behind her, and get on with her busy, single-girl life.
Like Carla.
Finn raised himself up on one elbow. “Going to the bathroom?”
In the darkness she could just make out the glitter of his eyes. If she could see him, did that mean he could see her? Hastily holding in her stomach and reaching for her shirt, Ginny said, “No. Home.”
Just like Carla.
“Why?”
She was filled with sadness. “Because it’s time to go.”
“You don’t have to,” said Finn.
He was being polite, saying the gentlemanly thing. The last thing he wanted was for her to leap back into bed with a squeal of delight, crying, “OK then, I’ll stay!” As far as men like Finn were concerned, girls who outstayed their welcome were the bane of their lives. Their worst nightmare was finding themselves trapped with someone clingy and overkeen.
“Thanks, but I’d rather get home.” Dressing at the speed of light, Ginny shot him a casual, unclingy smile. “We’ve had a nice time, haven’t we? But now it’s over. Time to leave. No need to get up,” she added as he made a move to push aside the bedclothes. “I’ll see myself out. And don’t worry, I won’t be sending you any flowers!”
Finn sounded taken aback. “Are you all right to drive?”
“Absolutely fine.” She’d downed four glasses of wine earlier but that had been two hours ago. Now she’d never felt more sober in her life. Stepping into her shoes and hastily smoothing down her hair, Ginny bent and gave him a quick careless kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, that was fun. Bye.”
After a pause, Finn said, “Bye.”
And that was it. Easy.
If Carla could see her now, she’d be so proud.
Chapter 35
Dan the Van rattled into the courtyard in his mud-spattered green van at midday. Ginny, poking her head through the kitchen door, called out, “It’s all right; he’s here. I’ll go and fetch them.”
Dan had blotted his copybook this morning, forgetting the raspberries when he’d arrived earlier with the rest of the fruit and veg. As Ginny made her way out of the restaurant, he leaped out of the van looking harassed and burbling apologies. “I’m so sorry, I can’t think how it happened, I could swear I ticked everything on the list, this has never happened to me before…”
“Dan, it’s fine.” Ginny attempted to calm him down; normally shy and retiring, Dan was the world’s most conscientious delivery man. “You’re here now and it’s only twelve o’clock. Really, it doesn’t matter a bit.”
“I feel terrible though. You trusted me and I let you down. Do you think I should apologize to Finn?”
“There’s no need; he doesn’t even know about it. Hello, beautiful,” cooed Ginny as Dan’s dog whimpered a greeting from the passenger seat of the van. As sweet-natured and shy as Dan, Stiller was a lanky, tousled, slightly unhygienic mongrel with eyes like Pete Doherty and a curly tail.
“OK, if you’re sure.” Unloading the tray of raspberries and evidently still racked with guilt, Dan thrust them into her arms. “But if he finds out, please tell him I swear on my life it won’t happen again.”
“Don’t worry, we know that.” As Ginny took the tray, they both heard a car coming up the driveway. “Sounds like our first customers arriving. I’ll take these through to the kitchen.”
“Don’t forget to tell chef I’m sorry.”
“Dan, stop apologizing, it really doesn’t—”
“Hello? Excuse me? Where would I find Finn?”
Ginny turned to look at the owner of the voice, which sounded as if it had been dipped in golden syrup. Another of Finn’s conquests or a business contact? Very pretty, certainly. In fact very pretty. The girl was tall and probably in her late twenties with glossy, almost waist-length brown hair and silver-gray eyes. She was wearing a black T-shirt and narrow white jeans with—
“Finn Penhaligon,” the girl elaborated, clearly wondering if Ginny understood English. Pointing first to the antiques center then to the restaurant and enunciating slowly she said, “Is he here?”
Resisting the urge to enunciate back, Ginny said, “I think he’s in the antiques center.”
“Thank you.” The girl opened the rear door of her black car and leaned into it, scooping out a baby in a scarlet sundress. She hoisted the baby onto her hip and began to make her way toward the honeysuckle-strewn entrance of the shop. Then, abruptly stopping, she thought for a moment before turning back to Ginny. “Actually, could you do me a favor? I’ll wait out here and you take her in.”
Ginny froze, because the baby had twisted around to look at her and there was no longer any question of who Finn’s visitors were. “Sorry?”
“Take her in; tell Finn there’s someone here to see him. Yes,” Tamsin nodded, pleased with herself, “that’s a much better plan.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Of course you can. Don’t worry, she won’t cry. Just give the raspberries to him.” Tamsin nodded at Dan the Van, who was so stunned he immediately took the raspberries from Ginny. “There, you see? Not too difficult! And now you take Mae. This is important; I want Finn to see her before he sees me. There you are.”
Ginny wanted to shout, “I can’t do this; I slept with Finn last night!” But it was too late; Tamsin had already plonked Mae into her arms.
“I’ll take the raspberries in.” Dan the Van scurried off.
“And I’ll stay here.” Tamsin, her silvery eyes sparkling with anticipation, gave Ginny a gentle push in the direction of the shop. “Don’t worry; he’s going to love it. Off you go!”
But I’m not going to love it, Ginny thought. I slept with Finn last night. She shook her head and said, “I’m sorry, I really can’t; it’s not—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, what is the big deal here? One lit
tle favor, that’s all I’m asking!” Stepping away and raising her eyebrows in disbelief, Tamsin said, “What possible difference can it make to you?”
***
Inside the antiques center a dozen or so potential customers were browsing, the warm air was heavy with the scent of old, cared-for wood and beeswax polish, and “Unchained Melody” was playing on the jukebox. Ginny saw Finn standing with his back to her, chatting to a couple of Japanese tourists who had just bought a Georgian writing chest.
She waited for him to finish the conversation. Mae gazed around the Aladdin’s cave with interest and spotted a life-size enameled parrot. Entranced by the bright colors she pointed and exclaimed, “Birdie!”
“I know,” whispered Ginny, her heart hammering wildly. “Clever girl.”
“BIRDIE!”
Finn smiled and turned to see who was making all the noise. When he spotted Ginny his smile broadened but at the same time she could tell he was wondering what she was doing here. Then his gaze shifted and the expression on his face changed as he recognized the baby in her arms. The smile fell away, and in the split second that followed, Ginny glimpsed shock, anguish, and joy.
It was heartbreaking to imagine the pain he must have gone through.
“Birdiebirdie,” babbled Mae, pointing at the ceiling and beaming over at Finn.
He excused himself from the Japanese couple and came over, his jaw taut. “What’s going on?”
“Tamsin’s outside. She asked me to do this. I didn’t want to,” said Ginny, “but she insisted. Here, I need to get back to the restaurant.” Hastily, she handed Mae to him. Unperturbed by all the pass-the-parceling, Mae reached out with both hands and spread her fingers like tiny starfish against the sides of Finn’s face. Maybe subconsciously she recognized him as having been a previous fixture in her life, because her smile was so dazzling, a lump rose in Ginny’s throat.
“Bah!” cried Mae, her dark eyes luminous and her mouth opening wide to reveal pearly miniature teeth. “Kawawaaa,” she babbled, happily kicking her legs against the front of Finn’s white shirt. “Birdie.”
For several seconds, oblivious to his surroundings, Finn stood there holding Mae in his arms. This was the baby he had witnessed being born and fallen in love with at first sight, the baby that had changed his world forever. For four months she had been his daughter and he would, without question, have died for her. Until the day in October last year when she had vanished from his life—had been summarily removed from it by Tamsin—and he had learned that she wasn’t his daughter after all.