Jill Mansell Boxed Set

by Jill Mansell

  Observing Barney check his watch, she called down, ‘Problem?’

  He looked concerned. ‘It’s nine o’clock. I wanted a word with Daisy, but there’s no answer. She’s usually in her office by half past eight.’

  Tara’s knees were aching. Slowly she straightened up. God, she was twenty-seven and suffering from chambermaid’s knee, how glamorous was that?

  ‘I’ll pop up to the flat,’ she told Barney. ‘Maybe her alarm didn’t go off. What did you want to see her about?’

  ‘Oh, um, well, it’s kind of personal.’ Barney flushed and hesitated, his long eyelashes batting like Bambi’s.

  ‘You can’t tell me that, it’s not allowed. Rule of the hotel,’ Tara teased, because it was such fun making someone else blush. ‘No secrets.’

  ‘OK.’ He threw up his hands in defeat. ‘I’m moving out of the hotel. Renting a cottage in the village. I thought I’d better check with Daisy that it’s allowed.’

  ‘Blimey, did you win the lottery?’ Astounded, Tara said, ‘Which cottage?’

  ‘Brock Cottage, at the end of Brocket’s Lane.’

  So he hadn’t suddenly become a millionaire. Tara pulled a face; rather him than her.

  ‘Rose Timpson’s old place? Bit manky, isn’t it? She was as mad as a hatter, used to wear necklaces made out of conkers and milk-bottle tops. What d’you want to live there for, anyway?’

  ‘So I can be with my girlfriend.’ Barney looked proud.

  ‘Has she seen it yet?’

  ‘I’m going to clean the place up first. Make it look fantastic.’

  Bless his heart, thought Tara. Must be love.

  ‘I’d better go and see what’s happened to Daisy. I’ll tell her you’d like a word. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine about it,’ she added cheerfully over her shoulder.

  She had almost reached the landing when Barney called up after her. ‘Oh, I almost forgot, can you tell Daisy that Mrs Penhaligon’s going to be arriving this morning now, instead of this afternoon? Her driver just rang to say they’ll be here around eleven, and Pam said Daisy would want to know.’

  ‘Mrs P, eleven o’clock. Got it.’

  Barney lowered his voice, forcing Tara to drape herself over the polished mahogany banister rail.

  ‘Is that Paula Penhaligon?’ he whispered reverently. ‘The one who sings?’

  Was there likely to be another one, being chauffeured down the M4 and booked into the hotel’s King Suite?

  ‘It is,’ Tara told him. ‘Good news for Hector; he can’t wait to get her kicking up her heels around that piano of his, bellowing out “My Old Man’s A Dustman.”’

  She grinned to herself as she headed towards the private wing, leaving an awestruck Barney wondering if she was having him on. That was the great thing about a character like Hector; you could fabricate almost any story about him and it would probably end up being true.

  Having planned to hammer on Daisy’s door and yell, ‘Quick, get up, Charles and Camilla are here,’ Tara discovered she didn’t need to. Daisy’s key was—carelessly—still in the lock.

  Which, if past experience was anything to go by, meant that Daisy had ended up getting hammered last night.

  Brilliant! Gleefully, Tara pictured the scene. Daisy would have stumbled up the stairs, struggling and cursing for ages while she attempted to fit her key in the door. Finally staggering into the flat, kicking off her shoes, and managing to peel off a few clothes if she was lucky, she would have crashed unceremoniously into bed with her makeup still on and without remembering to set her alarm clock.

  Ha, serves her right, Daisy was going to have the hangover from hell! She was also about to get the surprise of her life. Oh yes, this was going to be fun.

  Tiptoeing across the darkened living room, Tara wondered how she should go about it for maximum effect. Launch herself through the bedroom door? Leap onto the bed and mercilessly tickle her feet? Hide herself in Daisy’s wardrobe and start wailing like a ghost? Ooh, or get some ice-cold water from the fridge and drip it onto her from a great height?

  Actually, maybe not. Seeing as she was hoping for a lift from Daisy the next time she drove into Bristol, giving her an unpleasant shock might not be the best idea.

  Opting instead for the more subtle approach, Tara opened the bedroom door without making a sound and sank down on all fours. With the curtains still tightly drawn, the room was in total darkness but she was just able to make out the lump in the bed that was Daisy buried beneath a mountain of bunched-up duvet.

  Slowly Tara crawled across the carpet, reached the end of the bed, and slid her hand under the duvet. Within seconds she encountered bare flesh. Daisy’s foot. As lightly as she could, she tickled her toes until they twitched.

  Oh, this was brilliant, Daisy was completely out for the count! Chuckling silently to herself, Tara waited a few seconds before running her fingertips in a spidery fashion up as far as her ankle. The foot twitched again, more irritably this time. Tara danced her fingers around Daisy’s ankle bone and up over the lower part of her shin, enjoying herself hugely but at the same time surprised—and yes, actually quite shocked—by the hairiness of Daisy’s ankles. This was something she certainly hadn’t expected. These legs clearly hadn’t seen a razor in months. OK, so some women didn’t bother to depilate during the winter months when their legs weren’t on general release, but it hadn’t occurred to her for a moment that Daisy would be one of them. God, she really was incredibly hairy, like a woolly mammoth! Gross, thought Tara, and such a turn-off for the opposite sex. Poor old Daisy was never going to find herself another chap at this rate, didn’t she realize how repulsed men were likely to be by the sight of a woman with mohair legs?

  Daisy was showing signs of waking up. Tara, flinching as the top end of the duvet moved, began to wish she’d never started this in the first place. The winter-woolly legs were, frankly, something of an embarrassment. Oh well, maybe she could get away with pretending she hadn’t noticed how revoltingly Neanderthal they were.

  Oops, this was it, more movement from the pillow end of the bed. Resisting the temptation to duck down on her hands and knees and scurry backwards out of the room before Daisy saw her, Tara bravely stayed put. For heaven’s sake, she and Daisy were best friends, weren’t they? They weren’t going to let a bit of superfluous leg hair come between them. Even if there was enough of the stuff to fill a small cushion.

  Plastering a bright smile to her face, Tara raised her head…

  And found herself gazing into the eyes of a complete stranger.

  ‘Oooh!’ It came out as a stifled, indrawn squeak. Tara, sucking in her breath and still on her knees, almost toppled over backwards in shock. The head that had emerged from the duvet was little more than a tousle-haired silhouette but there was no getting away from it. Those eyes—and those shoulders—definitely didn’t belong to Daisy.

  As she stared in horror, a hand emerged from the duvet. The stranger in Daisy’s bed put a finger to his lips, then pointed to the door.

  ‘She’s still asleep,’ he murmured, tilting his head to indicate Daisy lying curled up next to him. ‘Put the kettle on, will you? I’ll be out in two secs.’

  Tara, still gaping, scrambled clumsily to her feet and whispered, ‘Right.’

  ‘Strong coffee. Black, two sugars,’ the stranger murmured as she reached the bedroom door. Sounding as if he might be smiling, he added, ‘And I wouldn’t say no to some toast.’

  By the time he emerged a couple of minutes later, Tara had recovered her equilibrium.

  Well, most of it.

  ‘Mm, just right.’ The owner of the hairy legs she’d so recently been fondling tasted his coffee and gave a nod of approval. ‘And two rounds of toast, I’m impressed. Although,’ he added, his tone conversational, ‘I’d have preferred blackcurrant jam. I’m not actually that wild about marmalade.’

  ‘Make
your own then, Mr Picky.’ Tara, perched on a high stool, scooted the loaf of bread along the breakfast counter, and helped herself to his toast and marmalade. ‘So who are you anyway?’

  ‘Me? I’m the bloke whose toes you tweaked.’ He paused in the act of energetically sawing the loaf into doorsteps and solemnly held out his hand. ‘My name’s Josh. Josh… Picky.’

  Tara was beginning to enjoy herself. When in doubt about a situation, make the most of it. She swallowed a mouthful of toast and shook his outstretched hand. ‘And where did Daisy find you?’

  ‘Daisy? Is that her name?’ He winked. ‘Only kidding. Actually, right here.’

  Her eyes widening, Tara gasped, ‘You mean you’re a guest?’

  This was riveting stuff. Daisy made a point of never tangling with hotel guests; it was one of her self-appointed rules. Which meant she’d either been mega-plastered last night or this one was extra, extra special.

  ‘Was she drunk?’ Tara bluntly demanded. Well, she needed to know.

  ‘Thanks a lot. You really know how to flatter a bloke.’ His smile endearingly crooked, Josh said, ‘So as far as you’re concerned, it’s the only possible explanation. Daisy wouldn’t have touched me with a barge pole if she’d been sober.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ Tara blustered. ‘It’s just you being a guest. Daisy’s always said she’d never get involved with a guest, it’d be unprofessional.’

  Well, it was half the truth. And barge pole might be putting it a bit strongly, but he did have a point. If Josh stood in a line-up of potential men for Daisy, Tara wouldn’t have expected her to pick him out. Being brutally honest here, she wouldn’t have thought he was Daisy’s type.

  Not that he was hideous-looking, but he did have a broken nose, messy reddish hair, baggy eyes, and an awful lot of freckles. His eyes were nice, Tara hastily amended, kind of greenish-brown and friendly, and his mouth was cheerful, but there were definitely a couple of crooked teeth in that mouth, and there was no denying his ears were big. What’s more, his blue shirt and black trousers were crumpled, although presumably this was due to the fact that they’d been left lying in a heap on Daisy’s floor all night; he’d probably looked a lot smarter yesterday evening when he’d begun chatting her up in the bar. Plus, of course, he would have been wearing shoes and socks.

  ‘I get by on personality,’ Josh told her, evidently aware that she’d been giving him the critical once-over. He added mildly, ‘We can’t all be James Bond.’

  ‘That’s not fair,’ Tara protested. ‘I wasn’t thinking that.’

  ‘Yes you were.’ Reaching for the blackcurrant jam, he began slathering it onto his popped-up toast. Calmly, he went on, ‘Looks aren’t everything, Tara. I do pretty well for myself. And by the way, Daisy wasn’t drunk last night. I seduced her with my dazzling wit, my easy charm, and, as I believe I mentioned earlier, my spectacular personality.’

  ‘How do you know my name?’ Tara blurted out.

  ‘Hmm?’ Affecting surprise, Josh picked up his toast. ‘Oh, just a gift I have. Five minutes talking to anyone and it just comes to me. Actually, it’s a great way to chat up girls, they love it to bits. Gets them every time. Got me Daisy last night,’ he added with a conspiratorial wink. ‘Now that’s what I call a result.’

  Tara raised her eyebrows at him. ‘Do I look stupid?’

  For a horrid moment she wondered if he’d say yes, to be honest, she did. That was the deeply unfair thing about being blonde, busty, and forced to wear a chambermaid’s uniform, people tended to assume you were dim.

  But Josh was grinning at her. ‘Oh well, it was worth a try. You’re Tara, you work here in the hotel and you’re Daisy’s best friend. She’s told me all about you. I guessed it was you,’ he went on, ‘when I woke up and found a chambermaid fondling my feet.’

  ‘Standard service, all part of the job.’ Tara shrugged. ‘We do that to all our guests.’

  ‘Excellent idea. Better than an alarm call any day. But I’m surprised Daisy hasn’t told you about me,’ said Josh. ‘I’m here as a guest of Daisy’s, not the hotel’s. We knew each other years ago and I came down to see her on Monday. She invited me to stay.’

  Well, well, this was a turn-up for the books. Tara, guilty about meeting up with Dominic again, had made a particular point of avoiding Daisy yesterday.

  ‘I was busy. We haven’t spoken to each other since Monday morning. Speaking of which, it’s now Wednesday morning,’ she tapped her watch, ‘and Daisy’s meant to be downstairs.’

  ‘Is it desperate? She didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. Couldn’t you let her have another hour?’

  ‘I—’

  The bedroom door flew open and Daisy shot out. Wild-haired and panda-eyed, she screeched to a halt at the sight of Tara and Josh together in the kitchen, enjoying a companionable breakfast.

  ‘It’s twenty past nine! What happened to my alarm clock? What are you doing here?’ she accused Tara.

  ‘I came to wake you up.’

  Something shifty happened to Daisy’s mascara-logged eyes. Guiltily, they veered towards Josh.

  ‘And you persuaded her to stay for breakfast instead. Honestly, Josh, you could have knocked on my door, you know I hate it when I’ve overslept.’

  Oh, excellent! Tara realized with delight that Daisy was attempting to bluff her way out of this. She was also hugely relieved to see that below the hem of her hastily flung on white terry cloth robe, Daisy’s bare legs were as tanned and smooth as a Chippendale’s chest.

  ‘Josh, I’m serious. Did my alarm go off this morning? Because if it did, you must have heard it through your bedroom wall.’ Her eyes wide with meaning, Daisy rattled on, ‘You should have come in and woken me up, you knew I had to be downstairs by—’

  ‘Ahem.’ Josh cleared his throat and rubbed his hand over his bristly chin.

  Bristly and blond with a hint of ginger, Tara couldn’t help noticing.

  ‘What?’ Daisy gazed in confusion at the pair of them. ‘What?’

  ‘Tara knows,’ Josh said kindly. ‘She tried to wake you up by playing “This Little Piggy” with your toes.’ He paused, attempting to keep a straight face. ‘Trouble is, she did it to my toes instead.’

  Realization dawned.

  ‘Oh, bum,’ Daisy wailed. ‘Oh, bugger. That’s so unfair.’

  ‘Hey, watch what you’re saying. I hope you weren’t planning to keep me a secret,’ said Josh. ‘Because I’m telling you now, I could take offense.’

  ‘You idiot, I didn’t mean that.’ Crossing over to him, Daisy slid an arm affectionately round his waist and stole a bit of toast. ‘Tara’s my best friend. We don’t have any secrets,’ she explained to Josh. ‘She knows I haven’t had any kind of a sex life for over a year. I’m just saying I wanted to be the one to tell her about us.’

  Tara flinched a bit at the mention of no secrets. She hadn’t been able to sleep last night for thinking about Dominic.

  ‘Don’t worry, you can tell me properly later.’ Adopting a lascivious Benny Hill leer, she added, ‘And I’ll want to hear all the sleazy details.’

  ‘Honestly, why is it OK for girls to do that?’ Josh protested. ‘You’d go mental if two men announced they were going to discuss you.’

  ‘I know. But it’s fun. And I’ll only be saying lovely things, I promise.’ Daisy’s tone was soothing. ‘Now, I need a shower. Anything happening downstairs that I should know about?’

  Tara slipped down from her high stool; it was time to get back to work.

  ‘Paula Penhaligon’s going to be here at eleven.’ She ticked off the things she had to mention to Daisy on her fingers. ‘I wondered if you were still going into Bristol tomorrow afternoon, because I’m on the scrounge for a lift—’

  ‘I’m not,’ Daisy apologized. ‘The meeting’s been canceled.’

  Tara’s face fell; it was Maggie�
�s birthday on Friday and she hadn’t bought her anything yet.

  ‘Oh. OK, never mind.’

  ‘But Josh is here.’ Brightening, Daisy clutched his arm. ‘You could give Tara a lift, couldn’t you?’

  ‘No problem. What’s wrong with your car?’ Josh asked Tara.

  ‘She doesn’t have one,’ Daisy announced.

  Josh was shocked. ‘You’re not serious. How can you live out here and not have your own transport?’

  ‘Easy. Because I don’t drive.’

  ‘This is mad.’ Josh was by this time incredulous, his sunbleached eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. ‘Why on earth not?’

  Tara sighed; she was used to people having a go at her. ‘I just never learned, OK? Not properly, at least. In London it was easier to catch a bus or the tube. Then, when I moved down here, my aunt tried to teach me and that was a disaster.’

  Disaster was an understatement. Maggie had kept yelling at her to stop dawdling and put her foot down. Halfway through her second lesson, Tara had driven Maggie’s car into a ditch and promptly vowed never to get behind the wheel of a car again.

  ‘What about a proper driving instructor?’ Josh was clearly the persistent type.

  ‘They cost a fortune. And my awful boss pays me a pittance.’ Tara’s tone was mournful.

  Her awful boss, currently swigging back lukewarm coffee and checking her watch, said, ‘I offered to give her a couple of lessons, but she’s lost her nerve.’

  ‘So how do you get about?’ Josh was still curious.

  Tara squirmed, wishing he wouldn’t keep going on about it. It was embarrassing, for heaven’s sake, like having to admit you couldn’t read or write.

  ‘Bums lifts. Like the one she’s going to bum off you to get her into Bristol tomorrow afternoon.’ Swallowing her last mouthful of coffee, Daisy headed briskly for the bathroom.

  ‘Oh, and Barney wants a word with you,’ Tara called after her, remembering the third thing she had to tell Daisy. ‘Bless him, he’s got some exciting news.’