by Jill Mansell
Kiss
JILL MANSELL
headline
www.headline.co.uk
Copyright © 1993 Jill Mansell
The right of Jill Mansell to be identified as the Author of
the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this
publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in
any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of
the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in
accordance with the terms of licences issued by the
Copyright Licensing Agency.
First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2008
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any
resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
ISBN 978 0 7553 5186 2
This Ebook produced by Jouve Digitalisation des Informations
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Jill Mansell worked for many years at the Burden Neurological Hospital, Bristol, and now writes full-time. Amongst her many Sunday Times bestsellers are NADIA KNOWS BEST, FALLING FOR YOU, THE ONE YOU REALLY WANT and MAKING YOUR MIND UP; a full list of her books appears on page ii.
For Cino and Lydia
With all my love
Chapter 1
‘I just want to know,’ Katerina said slowly, ‘whether your intentions towards my mother are honourable.’
And despite the fact that it was snowing hard, she stood her ground in the doorway, refusing to allow Ralph inside.
‘What a little darling you are.’ He grinned and ruffled her hair, because he knew how much it annoyed her. ‘And whatever did your disgraceful mother ever do to deserve such a daughter? If you were a few years older, Kat, I swear I’d whisk you off to Gretna Green myself.’
‘Ah, but would I be silly enough to go? Besides, we aren’t talking about my marital prospects,’ she continued, her expression stern. ‘I asked you a question and I’m still waiting for an answer.’
‘Of course. Are my intentions honourable?’ Frowning, he paused for a second to consider his reply. Snowflakes, melting in his hair, were sliding down his neck. It was very cold. ‘No, sorry,’ he said finally. ‘Absolutely not.’
Katerina shrugged. ‘That’s all right, then,’ she replied cheerfully, stepping to one side and waving him through. ‘Mum can’t stand honourable men. She’s in the kitchen, by the way, dyeing her hair.’
‘Go away,’ grumbled Izzy, her voice muffled, her head plunged upside down in the sink. ‘You’re early.’
‘No, I’m not.’ Ralph pinched her bottom, denim-clad and excitingly stuck out. ‘You’re late. What colour is it going to be, anyway?’ Peering more closely at the mass of curling, dripping hair, he saw that the rinsed-off water in the washing-up bowl was an ominous shade of indigo.
The final jug of hot water cascaded down, splashing into the sink and on to the floor. When Izzy had wrung out her hair and wrapped an enormous pink towel turban-style around her head she resumed vertical posture and planted a wet kiss on Ralph’s cheek before he could dodge out of the way.
‘Glossy Blackberry. It’ll be irresistible, darling.’
She was already irresistible, he thought as he followed her through to the cluttered living room - untidy, but irresistible. And although they were supposed to be going to a party in Hampstead he was beginning to have second thoughts about it now, despite the fact that an extremely useful film producer was rumoured to be attending. It would take Izzy at least an hour to get herself done up and it was arctic outside. The prospect of a quiet night in - just the two of them in front of the fire - was becoming increasingly inviting.
‘Going out?’ he asked hopefully, addressing Katerina. Stretched out across the entire length of the cushion-strewn sofa with her bare legs dangling over the arm, she was engrossed in a book.
She didn’t even bother to look up. ‘No.’
Why couldn’t Katerina be like normal teenagers, he thought with a trace of exasperation, and go out on a Friday night? The mother-daughter package might have its small advantages - and the fact that Katerina was able to organise Izzy was an undoubted plus - but her total disinterest in the social whirl, at times, could be a distinct pain.
He seriously doubted whether Katerina even knew the meaning of the word enjoyment in its generally accepted sense. At seventeen, she didn’t have a boyfriend, didn’t like discos or parties and deplored teenage magazines. She never gossiped. Her idea of a really good time, it seemed, was to hog the sofa and devour a few chapters of Gray’s Anatomy. God knows, she was a nice enough girl, well mannered and charming, funny when she wanted to be and undoubtedly beautiful. Why she wasn’t out every night making the most of it he simply couldn’t imagine.
But the fact remained that she wasn’t, and since she didn’t appear to be showing any sign of moving from the sofa either, Ralph reconciled himself to the idea that they may as well go to the party after all.
‘I’ll be five minutes,’ lied Izzy, heading towards her bedroom with the pink towel trailing damply behind her like a matador’s cape.
‘Mum, your hair’s blue.’ Katerina, who failed to understand why anyone should even want to change the colour of their hair, let alone practise it on a monthly basis, gazed after her mother with a mixture of exasperation and tolerance.
‘No, it isn’t,’ replied Izzy loftily over her shoulder. ‘It’s Glossy Blackberry. It’ll be irresistible. When it’s finished.’
There really weren’t many greater luxuries in life than this, Izzy decided. Chronic lack of money, the frustration of being wildly talented and as yet undiscovered, the sheer bother of having to wonder how much longer their revolt
ing landlord was going to allow them to stay in their less-than-luxurious flat . . . these problems simply faded into insignificance when one was lying in a warm bed with a gorgeous man, caressing deliciously warm flesh and knowing that one didn’t have to get up for hours. It was positively blissful.
‘Skin contact,’ she announced, pleased with herself for having recognised its importance.
‘Hmmm?’
‘The three most pleasurable experiences known to man.’ She smiled, sliding closer still and plastering the entire length of her body against his side. ‘Sex, sneezing and skin contact. No, make that sex, skin contact and sneezing. Touching skin is the second greatest pleasure. And it’s certainly more fun than a cold.’
A foot brushed against her shin, moving experimentally up and down. ‘Only if the other person remembers to shave her legs.’
Izzy raked her fingernails down his chest in protest. ‘I did remember! I did them the other night.’
‘While you were dyeing your hair?’ said Mike. ‘Just think, you could have dyed your legs and shaved your head by mistake. What a thought.’
‘How can you be so sarcastic at ten o’clock on a Sunday morning?’ demanded Izzy grumpily. Realizing that she was hungry, she wondered whether Kat would be amenable to the idea of cooking a gigantic breakfast.
‘It comes naturally.’
‘It isn’t fair.’
‘Life isn’t fair.’ Mike hauled himself into a sitting position, since natural sleep was clearly going to be denied him. ‘The fact that I only see you two nights a week isn’t fair. Izzy, if we’re going to have a proper relationship we should organise ourselves more effectively.’
That was the trouble with Mike, thought Izzy, smiling beneath the bedclothes. It was also part of his charm; only Mike could expect her to ‘organise herself more effectively’. As far as she was concerned, their relationship was perfect. Each week she spent two nights with Mike, two with Ralph and two nights working. Wednesdays were for rest and relaxation. And if that wasn’t perfect planning, she didn’t know what was.
‘You’re busy, I’m busy . . .’ she murmured vaguely, cuddling up to him once more. ‘Besides, you’d get bored. I lead a pretty mundane life, after all. You’d soon go off me if you had to sit and watch me scrubbing the kitchen floor and hoovering the hallway.’
Nothing Izzy ever did was mundane, thought Mike. He also seriously doubted that she even knew what a Hoover looked like, but sensed nevertheless that arguing the point would be futile. ‘OK,’ he said, gathering her into his arms and breathing in the faint, unmistakably Izzyish scent of her body. ‘I give in. I’ll expand my business empire and you can hoover to your heart’s content. Just so long as you don’t get bored and find yourself another man.’
‘With a daughter like mine to give the game away?’ said Izzy smiling up at him. ‘Some chance.’
Chapter 2
‘I don’t understand,’ said Gina hesitantly, her mind blotting out the words she knew she must have heard incorrectly. ‘You aren’t making sense. Let me get you a drink . . . there’s roast lamb for dinner and it won’t be ready for another thirty minutes.’
Moving jerkily towards the drinks cabinet in the corner of the sitting room, she became hideously aware of the fact that she no longer knew what to do with her hands. They seemed huge and ungainly, flapping at her sides as she walked. It was with relief that she picked up the bottle of Gordon’s and poured Andrew his drink - half an inch of gin, three inches of tonic, just as he always liked it when he returned home from work.
But now she was faced with the new problem of where to look. Andrew, she knew, was watching her and although he couldn’t possibly have meant what he’d just said, she found herself incapable of meeting his gaze. Her coordination had gone. She didn’t know whether to stand up or to sit down. And how could something so silly be happening to her body when it was only a simple misunderstanding anyway? In less than a minute, no doubt, they would be laughing at her ridiculous mistake and her hands and eyes would behave normally once more.
But Andrew wasn’t laughing. He shook his head when she finally held the drink towards him, gesturing instead to a nearby armchair.
‘Sit down.You’d better have that drink. God, I’m sorry, Gina - you must think I’m a real bastard, but I truly didn’t expect anything like this to happen. I didn’t want to hurt you . . .’
Gina tensed, unable to do anything but wait. Any minute now he’d break into a grin and say, ‘I’m joking, of course,’ and she would be able to relax and get on with the dinner. The parsnips needed to go into the roasting tin and the onion sauce, simmering on the stove, could probably do with a stir.
‘I would have thought you’d be throwing things by now,’ Andrew went on, hating himself for what he was doing but needing to provoke some kind of reaction. When Gina finally looked up at him he saw fear and confusion in her eyes.
‘Are you joking?’ she whispered at last, and the flicker of hope in her voice was almost too much to bear. Steeling himself against it, taking a deep breath, Andrew prepared to repeat the words which he had hoped to have to say only once.
‘Gina, this isn’t a joke,’ he said, more brusquely than he had intended. ‘I’m moving out of the house and I want a divorce. I’ve met someone else - I’ve been seeing her for almost six months now - and my staying here isn’t being fair to either of you. I’ve rented a flat in the Barbican and I’ll be going there tonight. I’m sorry,’ he repeated helplessly. ‘I really didn’t want to hurt you, but sometimes these things just happen . . .’
‘But you’re my husband,’ whispered Gina. Her knees were beginning to tremble uncontrollably - he’d always said how much he liked her knees - and she was finding it hard to swallow. Placing the tumbler of gin and tonic carefully on the table beside her before she spilled it, she rose to her feet, then abruptly sank back down. ‘We’re married,’ she said incredulously. ‘We’re happily married! Everyone’s always saying how happy we are.’
Sympathy mingled with exasperation. Why couldn’t she hurl something at him, for God’s sake? Why wasn’t she screaming, shouting, swearing and generally raising hell? It would, he thought grimly, make telling her the rest of it easier.
‘I was happy,’ he told her, willing her to react. ‘But now I’ve fallen in love with someone else.’
‘You said you didn’t want to hurt me!’ Gina’s knuckles whitened as she pressed clenched fists into her lap. With a huge effort, she burst out, ‘I could forgive you for having an affair. We don’t have to be divorced . . . if you don’t want to hurt me you can tell her it’s all over and we’ll carry on as if it never happened. It’s only a fling,’ she concluded breathlessly, choking on the words as hot tears - at last - began to fall. ‘It doesn’t mean anything, really it doesn’t. Lots of men go through this kind of thing . . . it doesn’t mean we have to get a divorce . . .’
‘I want to marry her,’ said Andrew tonelessly.
Gina stared at him, uncomprehending. Wasn’t she giving him every opportunity? Wasn’t she being as understanding as any woman could possibly be? ‘But why?’
He reached for the tumbler of gin and tonic and drained it in one go. ‘Because,’ he replied slowly, ‘she’s pregnant.’
Brandishing her mascara wand and treating her lashes to a second coat, Izzy belted out the second verse of ‘New York, New York!’. ‘Kat, do you want a lift to the library, because I’m leaving in five minutes.’
The next moment Katerina appeared behind her, in the mirror. Izzy, overcome with love for her precious, clever daughter, spun round and gave her a hug.
‘What would I do without you, hmm?’
‘Get yourself into a muddle,’ replied Katerina, ever practical. ‘Now, are either of them likely to phone tonight?’
‘Ralph might. He wants me to have dinner with him tomorrow . . . tell him I’ll meet him at Vampires at eight-thirty. Mike shouldn’t be phoning but if he does, just say that—’
‘You’re going for an auditio
n,’ supplied her daughter. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t forget.’
‘You’re an angel.’ Izzy hugged her again, then stepped back and regarded her with mock-solemn dark eyes. ‘Am I really a disgrace?’
Katerina, at seventeen, knew nothing if not her own mind. Izzy had her faults - and her chronic untidiness could be particularly irritating at times - but as a mother she was one of the best. And who could ever describe such a warm, generous, optimistic and loving person as a disgrace?
‘You’ve been seeing Mike for over a year,’ she replied calmly. ‘And how long has Ralph been around, nearly two years? You’re faithful to them. You haven’t promised to marry either of them. Everybody’s happy . . . what can possibly be so wrong with that? When I grow up,’ she added airily, ‘I fully intend to go for multiple, part-time lovers myself.’
‘And long may they drool,’ said Izzy, who never failed to be amazed by the extent of her daughter’s irrefutable logic. She glanced at her watch. ‘Help, I really am going to be late. Do you want that lift or not?’