A Jersey Kiss (Jersey Romance Series)

by Georgina Troy

  “My kitchen is a tip. Give it a quick tidy up while whilst I’m upstairs please,” she said, walking out of the room.

  “She’s always shouted and stamped her feet when she’s in a state about something,” mumbled Mel, chewing her breakfast, and completely ignoring Bea’s request.

  “If I had my way,” Shani said, “he wouldn’t get a chance to see inside the house at all.”

  “Bugger it, I’m not tidying up for him,” said Mel. “It’s not as if she’ll notice if we don’t.”

  “I can still hear you, you know,” called Bea from half way up the stairs.

  She was almost finished roughly drying her hair when she heard the doorbell ringing followed by Mel’s flirtatious giggle. So typical of Mel, thought Bea smiling, she didn’t take long to forget whose side she was on.

  Bea pulled on her oldest jeans, a faded t-shirt that had seen better days, but was at least clean and was ready for action. After all, she decided, they may only be friends and she didn't want to appear to be trying too hard, but she did have her pride. What little there was left of it.

  She took a calming breath, just before entering the kitchen, and saw Tom standing in front of her friends. She couldn't help thinking how they resembled the three wise monkeys, as they sat at the table next to each other, studying him in silence. Tom’s face was grey, causing his green eyes to appear more intense than they usually did. Bea could tell he was doing his best to appear friendly. As disturbed as she was by the call, she couldn’t help feeling sympathy for him, having such an accusatory audience.

  “Tom, let’s go through to the living room,” she said, sounding less angry than she had on the phone. “We’ll be able to talk in private through there.” She narrowed her eyes at the threesome who had purposefully ignored her telepathic pleas to go, staying exactly where they were at her kitchen table.

  As soon as they were alone, he took her gently by the shoulders. “Bea, I’m so sorry. I know how this must look, but I promise you I haven’t lied about anything. I’ve told you pretty much everything there is to know about Vanessa. We do get along well, but it’s purely for the children’s sake, even though I don’t see them nearly as much as I’d like to. “

  Much as she had enjoyed Tom’s company, she wasn’t desperate in any way for a social life, and had had enough of being on the receiving end of lies and dramas. Bea told him everything that had been said between her and Vanessa the previous night. She stepped back from him. “Tom, as much as I’ve enjoyed your company, I really don’t need to be dealing with a psycho woman right now or indeed at any time.” He went to interrupt, but she held up her hand to stop him. “This is too intense for me. I’ve got more than enough to be coping with right now and I don’t want us to fall out if we have to work so closely together. So I think the best thing you can do is concentrate on sorting out whatever issues you two have, once and for all.”

  Tom’s shoulders stooped. He stared back at her for a moment. “You’re right, of course. It would be selfish to expect you to get involved with me after what’s happened.” He leant forward, kissed her lightly on the cheek, then left without saying another word.

  Hearing the front door close, the others called Bea back to the kitchen.

  “Well?” Mel nudged her on her way to busy herself with the percolator.

  “Not for me, thanks,” Bea said, beginning to feel waterlogged. “I don’t know why you’re bothering to ask me, you were all listening, I presume?”

  Paul shrugged. “You know we were. So he’s gone, now what?”

  “It's a shame,” she said finally. “He was fun to be with the other night and he makes life at Malory’s bearable.” How typical there has to be a hiccup somewhere, especially such a major one.

  Mel handed out the drinks.

  “Well, you all said I should give dating a go.” Bea smiled at their serious faces. “I think I’ve had my fill of it for now.”

  “Right,” said Paul. “Anyway, I’ve heard tales about him liking a little flutter.”

  “He’s a gambler?” Shani widened her eyes.

  “That’s what I heard.” Paul’s eyes glistened as he turned to Bea. “So whether or not the wife is a problem, you don’t need to get involved with someone who is addicted to losing money.”

  “You know,” Bea said shaking her head wearily, “sometimes living on an island can get really tiresome. You know you shouldn’t listen to rumours about people, they’re usually untrue.”

  She turned to Mel. “How are things coming along with Grant and your wedding plans?”

  “Oh all right, I suppose,” she muffled, in between taking mouthfuls of another croissant. Bea couldn’t understand how Mel remained slim, as she never seemed to stop eating, and certainly didn’t ever exercise.

  “Only all right?” asked Shani grimacing at Mel eating. “Aren’t you ever full?”

  “You must have bought the entire newsagent’s wedding magazines, and I know for a fact you’ve been on the internet scanning wedding planner’s websites for ideas,” Paul winked at her.

  “I only asked you to check out one woman for me, Paul, and that was supposed to be in confidence.” Mel sighed. “I’ve been scanning the glossy magazines too; I need all the help I can get.” She put down her cup and studied her immaculate manicure with satisfaction. “You know, I only agreed with Mum to hold the wedding in May, because I was certain we would easily manage to plan everything in that time, but it’s not as simple as I thought it’d be.”

  Shani and Paul glanced at Bea, but she wasn’t in the mood to row with her sister, not today. It was exactly four months since Aunt Annabel had died and eight months and one day until she had to find Simon’s money. It seemed like forever ago that she had kissed her aunt’s forehead that last time, the tenth of May was coming around a little too quickly for her liking.

  Shani motioned for Bea to say something first. She shook her head. Shani glared at her with her best schoolmistress look then turned her attentions to Mel. “You know you only have to ask and we’ll help you in whatever way we can, don’t you?”

  Bea stifled a groan; the thought of having to spend more time with her stepmother with wedding plans was almost more than she could contemplate. “Yes, of course,” she said, relenting with as much good spirit as she could muster.

  A smile slid across Mel’s mouth. “Really? I wasn’t sure you’d want to still help me now that you know when we want to have the wedding. Thanks. Obviously I’ll need to pass everything by my mum first, but then I’ll let you all know what you can do for me.”

  Paul widened his eyes at Bea. She tried not to smile at him, aware she’d been cornered into helping too. He hurriedly snatched his napkin from his lap and held it up to his mouth to try and stop his giggling from being heard.

  Despite being surrounded by her closest friends, Bea suddenly felt very much alone. She stared out of the French doors and decided it was time to be alone.

  Mel glared at Paul, nudging him hard.

  “Ouch. That hurt,” he whined, still laughing, but now frowning in pain at the same time.

  “Good. My wedding is no joke,” she pouted. She looked at Bea. “I know we have our differences, but you’ll only have to deal with this wedding and then you won’t have to cope with my mum’s desperation to make sure I’m seen as number one daughter in Dad’s eyes.”

  Bea’s eyes widened. “I didn’t realise you were so aware of what she does.”

  “Yeah,” Paul said. “We all thought you were a bit switched off where your mother’s game-playing was concerned.”

  Slamming her hands, palm first, onto the pine table, Mel glared at Paul. “I don’t want you to bother if you’re only getting involved so you can take the mickey out of me and Mum at every opportunity. It is my wedding, Paul, despite your loyalties to Bea and her obvious annoyance about the date, but this is something that will have to last me forever. Bea has a right to insult my mum, you don’t.”

  “Mel,” Shani snapped. “He didn’t mean to
be horrible about Joyce, but I don’t think you see the full extent of how badly she treats Bea.”

  Bea stood up. “That’s enough. I’m a big girl now, Shani, thanks. I don’t need anyone looking after me and I’m perfectly capable of standing up to Joyce, if I feel the need to do so.” She turned her attention to Mel. “We’re happy to help you plan the wedding. I don’t like the idea that it’s going to be on Liberation Day, but you were aware of that when you set the date. I’m more concerned about the crap Dad will be coping with, and if I can make it any easier for him, I will.”

  Mel didn’t reply for a moment. Bea waited for her to speak. “Fine. Not exactly the enthusiasm I was hoping for from my own sister, Bea, but it’s better than nothing. You’re probably a little down now that your relationship with Tom has gone down the pan.”

  “It was hardly a relationship,” Bea said, standing up and collecting their cups. “Listen you lot, I’ve got a lot to catch up with here, if I ever want a weekend out of this house again.”

  Mel picked up her bag, and slung it over her shoulder, “I’ve got a wedding to plan,” Mel said pointedly.

  “I was hoping to chill out here for a bit,” Paul moaned.

  “You can, if you pick up a paintbrush and do something useful.”

  Shani grabbed at her car keys. “I would, but I need to get off. I’ve got to try and pin Harry down.”

  “Everything all right?” Bea touched Shani’s tanned arm lightly “You’re looking a little peaky. You’re probably overdoing it at that gym.”

  “Hah, I don’t think so,” Paul laughed. “She’s been signed off all week.”

  Bea raised her eyebrows and stood in front of Shani. “Why? You never said you’d been unwell. What’s the matter?”

  “Thanks, Paul,” Shani snapped before looking at Bea. “I’m fine. It was just a stomach bug, nothing more.”

  “You let me know if you need anything,” Bea said. “I know I’m probably caught up with all my problems at the moment, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know everything that’s going on with you. We should catch up sometime, just the two of us.”

  “That would be nice,” Shani said, hugging her quickly and following Paul out of the room.

  EIGHT

  October - Budding Romance

  Bea ran up to her room, and changed back into her old tracksuit. “Come along lazybones,” she called to Flea, who was snoring soundly in his basket. With a slight groan he stretched, and eventually followed her downstairs.

  “Smell that?” she said. “That's the scent of the end of summer.” She picked a reddening leaf from a nearby acer. “Such beautiful colours.” She gazed at the acre of green expanse before her and sighed. “I'd better get a move on and mow this otherwise it's going to be even more of a jungle out there.” She was grateful for Tom’s recent help in keeping the lawn mown and remembered teasing Simon about his determination to mow the lawn every week during previous summers, insisting he didn't dare let it get out of control. Now she appreciated what he had meant.

  Unable to face the mowing at that particular moment, Bea went into the kitchen and after flicking through several dog-eared recipe books, found Aunt Annabel’s hand-written note showing her how to make a batch of lemonade. She told herself she wasn’t putting off the mowing, simply preparing a thirst-quenching drink for when she’d completed the arduous task. That done, she placed the jug of lemonade carefully into her fridge and went back outside.

  “It’s not going to cut itself,” she groaned, aware she couldn’t justify paying someone for a task she was perfectly capable of carrying out herself. “No time like the present, I suppose,” she told Flea, breaking into a jog towards the old brick stables at the back of the house where she kept the mower, as well as all the decorating paraphernalia, before she could think of a reason to change her mind.

  Maybe her aunt had hidden her mysterious item out here somewhere? She stood on the concrete floor staring up at the rafters and trying to think of any hiding places there could be in this place that she could have missed. After a brief and unsuccessful search that only uncovered an ancient chest containing moth-eaten books, she decided to give up looking for the day.

  The mower was sitting exactly where Tom had left it three weeks before. Bea stood and stared at it for a moment, hands on hips as she contemplated asking him to come around and do it for her once again, but since the incident with Vanessa she’d done her best to be as friendly to him as possible in a professional capacity only. After all, they did still have to work together and there was no point in giving him the wrong impression that she may want something more from him, even if it was to help mow the lawn.

  Bea filled the dusty, red tank with fuel from the can nearby, hoping she wasn’t doing the wrong thing, spilling a few dribbles of petrol onto her hand. “Sod it.” Bea shook her hand to get the majority off and walked back into the kitchen to wash her hand. As she replaced the towel back on the rail, she spotted a piece of folded paper on the floor and bent to pick it up. It was Luke’s latest invoice with a note pointing out extra plastering that he’d noticed needing replacing in the back bedroom. It must have fallen onto the floor when she’d opened the door letting in a draught. She dialled his number.

  “Sorry, I only saw your note last night and it was too late to give you a ring.”

  “About the plasterwork?”

  “Yes,” she said thinking how sexy his deep voice sounded on the phone. “I know you’re coming to the end of the work now and to be honest I can’t afford to do much more work, in fact I’m going to have to…” Bea held the phone away from her ear. Was that voices outside in her driveway? “Simon?” she whispered before realising Luke was calling her name. “Sorry, I was distracted for a minute.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  Bea sighed. “Yes, I…” It was bloody Simon. What the hell was he doing at her house, again? She ran over to the French doors and pushed them open wider. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing? Get off my property now.”

  Simon carried on talking to someone she didn’t recognise.

  “Bea?” Luke shouted concern obvious in his voice.

  “Sorry, Luke, I’ve got to go.” She ended the call before he was able to answer, furious with Simon.

  “And this is my ex-wife,” Simon smiled as if he’d just introduced her as a tiresome teenager.

  “Yes, and this is my house,” she said holding her hand out to the man in a bespoke grey suit. “And you are?”

  “I’m the estate agent your, er, ex-husband contacted for a valuation on this property.” He glanced down at his black leather clipboard and then smiled awkwardly at her.

  Bea raised her eyebrows and stared at Simon. “Why?”

  Simon sighed. “Beatrice, we both know the bank will send someone to value this place in your favour. I’m not an idiot, I remember your aunt talking about Mr Peters, the bank manager who she dealt with for the last two hundred years, or whatever. I’m bringing in someone to make sure I don’t get cheated out of my share.”

  “You shit. If Mr Peters was so easily influenced I would have raised the money to buy you out by now.”

  Simon’s triumphant expression made Bea grit her teeth in irritation. “So you have been trying to sort out our little problem then?”

  Bea glared at him.

  “Good to know. D-Day will soon be upon us. Only seven months now.” He looked around the garden. “However, I’m perfectly entitled to bring in an independent valuer and that’s what I’ve done. So, if you don’t mind finding something else to do, we’ll get on.”

  “No, you don’t.” Bea grabbed Simon’s arm. “You can come inside,” she said to the estate agent who stepped from foot to foot as he pretended to be intrigued by her herb garden. “You, Simon, can bloody well wait out here.”

  “This way.” She led him into her kitchen trying to remember that it wasn’t the poor agent’s fault Simon had involved him in their problem.

  “Don’t worry; I’ll on
ly be a few minutes.” He forced a smile, making Bea feel slightly guilty at dragging him inside so hurriedly.

  “See?” Simon said tapping his watch at her ten minutes later. “That didn’t take too long, now did it?”

  Bea turned her back on them and began walking back towards the stables, stopping abruptly when she heard another vehicle coming down her driveway.

  “Oh God, here comes the cavalry,” Simon sneered, shaking his head as he pointed at Luke. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Bye, Bea, see you in court.”

  She frowned and turned to see Luke striding across the gravel towards her. “Are you okay?” he asked, ignoring Simon’s pained expression as he passed and focusing on her.

  Bea’s stomach flipped over. He seemed so concerned for her. “I’m fine, thanks, just another confrontation with my adorable ex-husband.”

  “What the hell did you ever see in that man?” Luke said in the direction of Simon’s disappearing car.

  Bea shrugged. “He’s very handsome and believe it or not, can be great fun.”

  “Hmm, maybe he’s changed a lot.” He smiled.

  Bea laughed. “Or maybe I’ve woken up and can now see the real Simon that was well hidden for so long. Would you like a drink, or something?”

  “No.” He shook his head, his untidy curls settling in a way that made Bea want to push her fingers into them. “You cut our call so abruptly, I didn’t know what had happened and wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

  “That’s kind, thank you, but I’m fine now he’s gone.”

  Luke looked at her for a few seconds. “While I’m here, I just want to check on something the men mentioned to me about the hallway,” he said, before walking to the back door and into the house.

  Bea smiled to herself as she returned to the mower and pushed the heavy machine around the side of the house, across the gravel driveway and onto the lawn.

  Red in the face at the exertion, she thought back to Simon telling her how to start it. Pushing forward the bar and holding up the handle, she leant forward, grabbed the handle and gave it a strong tug. Nothing. Bea breathed in, took hold of it once more, and bracing herself, pulled as quickly and as hard as she could. Again, nothing happened.