A Jersey Kiss (Jersey Romance Series)

by Georgina Troy

  “What did you do?” Bea remembered exactly how sick she felt when her aunt had sat her down and told her that she’d caught Simon making out with someone in his car.

  “Nothing,” he replied, his face expressionless for a moment.

  “Nothing? What, nothing at all?” It didn’t sound like the Tom she had known all those years ago.

  “You married in your early twenties too; didn’t your family and friends warn you that you were rushing things?

  Bea nodded. “My stepmother must have told me dozens of times that it would end badly with Simon.”

  “Anyway, what’s the point? It wasn’t as if he knew who I was. I mean think about it, he was a good client of mine, until then we'd had an excellent business relationship.”

  “But he was sleeping with your wife,” she said.

  “Exactly, my wife. She was the one being unfaithful. And let’s be honest, if you have to get divorced, and to me there is no other option when there’s no trust left, I was going to need all the money I could get for legal fees. I didn’t need to lose a good client. Well, not just then anyway.”

  Bea couldn't think what to say to such a revelation. “That sounds so calculated,” she said, shocked at his callous admission.

  “It does when you say it out loud.”

  She put her hand over his. “How horrible. So what’s happening now?”

  “Everything's in the hands of the solicitors. We’ve gone for a year’s legal separation, like I explained to you the other week. She still doesn’t know he’s my client.”

  “Really?”

  “He knows. I told him when I left the company and moved to where I am now.” Tom smiled triumphantly. “It was one hell of a shock to him, too. I can still picture his face. He didn’t know what to do with himself.” He squeezed Bea’s hand. “Can we change the subject now?”

  “Of course. Sorry.”

  Tom looked at the clock above the bar. “I’ve booked a table for us at Giuseppe’s, if that’s ok?”

  “Perfect.”

  Bea was relieved to get out into the warm evening air. She couldn’t remember being out to dinner with someone other than Simon. “When we were dating we never went to restaurants together.” She laughed.

  “No money, which is why I’m enjoying taking you tonight.”

  They entered the dimly lit restaurant. Bea looked forward to seeing Giuseppe. “I used to come her quite a lot with Simon.”

  Tom frowned. “You should have said, I could have booked for us to go somewhere else.”

  “Don’t be silly, this is great. You can’t beat the food.”

  Giuseppe welcomed them with open-arms “Cara, I’m so sorry about you and Mr Porter splitting up,” he whispered as he gave her a brief hug. “He says though that you’re very happy now and have both moved on.” Gio looked across to where Tom was waiting for her by their table. “And I can see he was telling the truth. I am pleased. He is a handsome man, no?”

  Bea nodded. “He is, Gio.” Gio pulled back a chair for her and Bea sat down.

  Tom smiled. “Do you remember we were thrown out of that pub the first summer we were seeing each other when we got drunk with the drummer from that band?”

  Bea chewed her lip. “You mean you got drunk. I had to get you home afterwards and my aunt panicked when I was late home.”

  “I remember, you wanted to take over the world,” he teased her. “You insisted you'd be a millionaire by the time you were twenty-five. What happened?”

  Bea sighed. “Life got in the way. Anyway, what about you? You were supposed to be running your own multi-national business by now.”

  He shook his head. “I know. Disappointing, aren’t we?”

  “Never mind,” said Bea holding her stomach to ease the pain caused by so much giggling. “We only didn't succeed because our priorities changed. And we’ve still got loads of time to achieve stuff.”

  “True,” he said quietly. “What do you want to do most?”

  “When Aunt Annabel first died, I thought I wanted to continue with her gardening designs and carry on with the one she was taking to the Chelsea Flower Show this year.” She pictured Annabel with her designs in her shed. “But although I grew up with her teaching me stuff about gardens, I’ve got my own garden to keep going and need to find a way to buy out Simon. I don’t have a sponsor for the show and to be honest I don’t have the expertise to see it through.”

  Tom smiled at her. “You’re still grieving over her, Bea. Most of my memories were of your aunt chatting to us while we lay in the sun, or her bullying me to mow her lawn or something. She was a big character and brilliant at her designs. You’re doing well enough just trying to keep her home together for her. That’s enough for anyone to deal with on their own.”

  “Thanks, Tom. It’s good to hear you say that.” Bea swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed away a memory of passing bulbs to her aunt as she planted them. She’d always been happiest in her garden. “I sometimes don’t know how I’ll manage it. I try and remember the fun bits of my aunt, but I miss her too much to be able to do that very often.”

  “You’re doing very well. Just hang in there and focus on fighting that shit of an ex of yours.” He looked up and Bea blew her nose on a tissue from her bag. “Ah this looks delicious,” he said as Gio put a plate down in front of each of them.

  “Er, Tom,” she said, suddenly noticing Giuseppe was cashing up and the waiter was watching them with a tired expression on his face. She waved her hand in front of Tom to get his attention. “I think we’ve outstayed our welcome.” She motioned to the empty room. “We’re the last people here.”

  “When did that happen?” Tom asked, before quickly finishing his drink, and nodding at Giuseppe for the bill. That paid, he stood up. “Come on then, let’s make a move.”

  Taking her by the hand, they said their goodbyes to Giuseppe and his staff and Tom led her outside where he immediately flagged down a passing taxi.

  He shouted Bea’s address into the cab’s window, and helped her into the back. “Bea,” he murmured huskily, sitting down heavily next to her. “I’ve had a wonderful time with you again tonight. It’s been fun catching up about us and not having to concentrate on work issues.”

  “Tom, I was wondering, while we’re not at work, if you’d be able to tell me more about this Luke business. You know,” she mouthed the words ‘money laundering’ so that the taxi driver couldn’t hear her. “I just can’t quite believe he could be involved, as you seem to think.” There, she thought, she’d voiced her doubts to him.

  Tom took her hand, all humour vanishing from his expression. “I understand how difficult this must be for you, but I can assure you he is involved, or I suspect he is.” He thought for a moment. “I know I shouldn’t, but come to my office on Monday and I’ll show you the irrefutable proof that I’m not lying to you about this.”

  Bea grimaced. She’d ruined their evening by bringing this matter up. “I wasn’t insinuating that you’d lied, Tom, but it seems so unlikely.”

  “You know him that well, to believe him incapable of something like this then?”

  Bea shook her head. “No, but…”

  He put his arm round her and gave her a hug. “I know, I’m so sorry. It’s difficult to be involved in something this distasteful, whichever way you’re connected. I do understand your concerns, Bea. You’re right to ask me for proof, and on Monday I’ll hopefully show you that you can trust me.”

  Bea sighed. “Thank you. You must think me so rude to ask you this after the lovely evening we’ve had?”

  “Not at all. Once you can see for yourself the seriousness of the situation, it’ll help you keep Luke in his place in your mind. It doesn’t have to be too difficult; he’s carrying out work for you, nothing more. I’ll give you a ring in the morning, if that’s ok?” he asked, as the taxi moved through the noisy St Helier streets. “Not too early, I promise. Maybe I could take you kayaking?”

  “I'd like that,” she agreed, w
ishing she felt a little less miserable. “But not before ten, though. I have to make the most of any lie-ins I can get nowadays.” She didn’t mention that she wanted to avoid Tom bumping in to Luke, who she hoped would have seen to any work his men needed to do and left her house by that time.

  The taxi drew up at the front of her house and Bea opened the cab door. “Thank you for a lovely evening,” she said, kissing him on the cheek and getting out. She watched as he waved back and the taxi disappeared into the darkness.

  She bent to cuddle Flea as soon as she got into the house. It would be good to finally see some proof about Tom’s allegations against Luke, Bea decided, not wishing to think about how awkward it would then be to deal with Luke when he came to the house. Bea removed her makeup and was thinking back over her evening, when the phone rang. “Bloody hell, that was quick, Flea,” she laughed. “He must live very near here to get home so quickly.”

  Bea slumped back onto the bed, picked up the phone, and placed it immediately against her ear. “When I said after ten, I meant ten in the morning,” she teased.

  “Am I talking to Beatrix Potter?” demanded a controlled, clipped voice, tinged with what Bea assumed sounded like a definite threat.

  Well, it certainly wasn’t him. “This is Beatrice Porter, and if you don’t mind me stating the obvious, it's one-thirty in the morning,” she retaliated, irritated by the caller’s aggressive tone.

  “Never mind the fucking time,” the woman screeched. “What the hell were you doing with my husband?”

  SEVEN

  Bea Stings

  “She said what?” Shani gasped when she phoned her as soon as she’d ended the call with Vanessa.

  “You needn't sound so excited about it,” Bea said, annoyed that Vanessa’s call had given her such a fright.

  “Sorry, you must have been spooked being in that house all by yourself.” Shani lowered her voice. “You can't do anything about it tonight, so why don't you snuggle up to Flea and try to get some sleep? I haven’t got any classes first thing tomorrow, so I'll be able to come over to your place after ten. We’ll discuss everything then.”

  “I want to go round to her place and give her hell.” Bea said. “Her call was so unexpected I didn’t have time to think of anything clever to say.”

  “You don’t know where she lives,” Shani said, “and anyway, losing your temper with her probably won’t solve anything. Let Tom sort his shitty wife out.”

  Bea had to agree. Vanessa was Tom’s problem, not hers. She lifted Flea onto her bed, and settled down for the night, relieved to find she was a little dozy despite everything and put it down to the alcohol she and Tom had consumed earlier in the evening. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander until she fell asleep.

  ****

  Bea heard Shani’s battered Astra backfiring down the driveway as she hurriedly finished dressing the following morning. She pulled on a pair of pink cut-off trousers and ran to open the front door to be instantly engulfed in a bear hug by Paul. “Oof.” Flea barked in protest.

  “It’s all right, little man.” Paul let go of Bea and stroked Flea’s head before standing back up again. “Poor you,” he said, leaning back and studying her face for a moment. “Shani told me what that cow said to you last night.”

  “You've heard then?” Bea asked, knowing full well Shani would have told him as soon as she had put down the phone. “Come through.” They followed her down the long passageway, and into the kitchen.

  “Blimey, it's lovely and cool in here.” Shani shivered. “We’re dying up in our flat. It’s too hot in the summer and freezing in the winter. I’m starting to hate it there.”

  Bea leant back against the cool metal of the Aga. “Never mind the weather; I need to talk about last night.”

  “I can’t believe you’re the other woman this time,” Paul teased, rubbing Flea's back as he stretched against him. “Not like you at all.”

  “Not funny, Paul,” Shani said, joining Bea in front of the Aga. “Just pour us some water if you haven’t got any cans of drink. It’s too hot for tea anyway.”

  “It’s not funny,” agreed Bea, rubbing her arms to warm up, suddenly feeling chilled. “I don’t need to be dealing with this.” She stood from one foot to the next, retying her ponytail. “I’m the last person who’d want to upset someone’s wife. Don’t forget I know how she must feel. I certainly felt like saying the same to Simon’s Claire.” That felt odd, she thought. Simon’s Claire. It used to be Simon and Bea.

  “Sit down,” Shani said. “Now take a deep breath and tell me exactly what else she said to you.”

  Bea did as she was told. “Tom told me they were legally separated, which is pretty much the same as being divorced. I mean, to be separated you have to sign a legal document stating you're no longer living together, don’t you?” She waved her hand at Paul, declining the proffered biscuit barrel in his hand. “I can’t believe he lied to me. It’s not as if we're dating as a couple, or anything. We're supposed to be friends.”

  “You don’t know he has lied yet.” Paul sprayed her with crumbs, as he munched on a digestive. “Maybe she’s the one telling porkies, or she could have been dipping one time too many into the Merlot.”

  Bea took a deep breath in an effort to stop her temper from rising. “She screamed at me like a complete nutter calling me all sorts of things. I’m not a slag, or what else did she say, oh yes, a bitch. Bloody cheek too, in the circumstances.”

  Shani slammed her hand down on the work top. “Will you just tell me what she said? We’ll deal with the unfairness of it all later.”

  “You love taking charge, Shani,” mumbled Paul, trying not to giggle, as they pointedly ignored him.

  “She had the nerve to threaten to make my life a living hell, if I ever saw him again.” She shuddered at the memory. “I think she meant it, too. Let’s face it, this is a big house to be rattling around in at the best of times, but when someone makes threats to you in the middle of the night, it takes on a creepiness that I’ve never noticed before.”

  “I can imagine. She probably even looks like something from Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” Shani said, taking a seat at the table, and motioning for Bea to sit in front of her.

  “It’s all right for you to sit there and joke, but it’s me who’ll be smacked in the face.”

  The doorbell rang. “Sit down,” Shani said. “Paul will deal with whoever that is.”

  “Oh, thanks,” he said, grimacing. “What if it’s the mad woman?”

  “You’re such a hero, Paul.” Shani took the biscuit tin away from him. “Baby. I’ll go then.”

  “I will,” Bea said. Shani got up and pushed Bea back into her seat. Bea fell back wondering how someone so tall and skinny could still have so much physical strength. “Leave this to me.”

  Paul leaned towards Bea after Shani had marched out of the kitchen. “She loves being the one to sort everything out. She’s the same whenever someone kicks off at the gym. Always has to barge in and give everyone hell.”

  “And you just let her, I suppose.” Bea smiled at him, imagining Paul, almost a foot shorter than Shani, letting her take charge of any dramas. Bea strained to hear who was at the door. At first she couldn’t hear anything at all, and wondered what Shani could possibly be doing. She then heard whispers and giggling getting louder as Mel and Shani made their way to join them in the kitchen. “It’s Mel. I’ve said she can come in because she’s brought food with her.”

  “Hi, Mel,” Bea said, sensing Shani had given her sister a hurried, abridged version of events. “Why don't I go and heat these up?” Bea took the chocolate croissants from her sister. She’d forgotten she'd invited them and Mel for breakfast, so couldn’t expect them to leave her in peace before they’d eaten. Anyway they were here for her and another drama. When had her orderly, seamless life dissolved into this chaotic mess?

  Paul looked up as she returned from locating the percolator from its home in the pantry. “Never mind, Blondie, we’ll get
through this one, too.”

  Bea shrugged. “I know I’m a bit useless, but I’m not totally hopeless,” she said, placing cups and plates on the bleached pine table in front of them.

  The phone rang. “Hello?” said Bea, relieved for the distraction.

  “Hi, Bea, it’s me,” said Tom, his voice cheery. “Sleep well?”

  “As a matter of fact, no,” she admitted, still cross with him for lying to her about being separated from Vanessa.

  “Why? What’s the matter?” he asked, beginning to sound a little unsure.

  “The matter, Tom, is your wife.” She waved the phone at her intent audience for them to be quiet so she could hear what he was trying to say. All three were now paying full attention, their croissants and hot drinks freeze-framed in mid-air.

  “Vanessa?” he asked.

  “Who else?”

  “I’m coming round.” Tom sounded anxious. “And you’re going to tell me everything.”

  Bea went to argue, but he’d already slammed down the phone before she’d uttered a single syllable.

  She pointed at the phone. “He’s on his way.”

  “Great,” cheered Shani. “Now I get to see what he looks like after all these years.”

  “I only remember him vaguely. I suppose it’s because I was so much younger when you saw him,” said Mel, tearing off mouthfuls from her croissant before devouring them with relish after dipping them into her coffee.

  “That’s disgusting, Mel. Anyway, I’m surprised you remember him at all.” Bea shook her head.

  Paul rubbed his hands together to remove the crumbs. “He was always hot, though we were only friendly because of you.” He grinned at Bea. “I bet he’s aged badly.”

  “He hasn’t.” Bea stood up. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  “What?” they cried in unison.

  “You don't mind looking like hell in front of us,” laughed Mel. Shani nudged her and shook her head.

  “I’m going upstairs. Can you three can tidy up a bit?”

  “What for?” frowned Mel, tearing apart a second croissant.