by Jill Mansell
‘She came back.’ Keeping her voice low, Maggie peeled off her parka and ruffled snow out of her hair. Since Tara could be back at any second, she came straight to the point. ‘I’m free tomorrow. Would one o’clock suit you?’
Hector immediately felt tawdry. What kind of a situation had he got himself into here? Maggie was assuming he was visiting her purely for the sex. Then again, maybe she was desperate for money. God, it was all such a mess.
‘I didn’t… I just called round because I wanted to… um, no, sorry.’ Hector shook his head. ‘I can’t manage that. Maybe the day after. Look, can I give you a ring?’
‘Fine.’ Maggie abruptly turned away, busying herself with the tray of cooling scones, and he had a sudden overwhelming urge to put his arms round her waist and kiss the back of her neck.
Luckily he didn’t.
‘Brrrrr, you’re right, it’s bloody cold out there.’ Tara burst into the kitchen stamping her feet and rubbing her hands together. Kicking the back door shut, she dragged off her coat and boots and grinned at Hector. ‘OK, now brace yourself, because I never thought I’d hear myself saying these words…’
Hector braced himself with foreboding; he had no idea what this was likely to be about.
‘Hector.’ Tara assumed an air of importance. ‘Would you care to try one of my homemade scones?’
Hector, his tone grave, replied, ‘Tara, I’d love to. But Daisy mentioned something about you having a date tonight. Shouldn’t you be getting yourself, um, ready?’
Smart move. This way, it didn’t look as if he’d called round thinking that Tara would be out of the house.
‘My date stood me up.’ Unaware that she still had flour in her hair, Tara struck an aren’t-I-irresistible pose. ‘Can you believe it? The whole of the Hollybush knows, there’s no point trying to pretend it didn’t happen. So that’s it,’ she went on, pushing up the sleeves of her khaki sweatshirt and indicating the debris of rolling pin, mixing bowls, spatulas, wooden spoons, and bags of flour strewn across the work surfaces. ‘I decided it was high time I did something more constructive with my life.’
‘She came home,’ Maggie interjected with a dry smile, ‘and announced that seeing as her life was a disaster and all men are pigs, she may as well learn how to make scones.’
Tara gazed with almost maternal pride at the baking tray upon which they sat, peculiarly shaped but lovable nonetheless.
‘Maggie showed me how. They’ve even got raisins in. I’m going to do a Victoria sponge next.’
Hector ate the scone she offered him, remembering to praise it with as much enthusiasm as he recalled being obliged to praise the rock-solid jam tarts Daisy had brought home from her first cookery lesson at the age of ten.
‘Fantastic. Perfect. The best scone I’ve ever had.’ Even if it was shaped like Africa. ‘So what were you saying about me before I knocked on your door?’
‘Oh that! I was just telling Maggie about you and Paula Penhaligon, how well it’s going between the two of you.’ Tara beamed up at him. ‘It’s so exciting, we’re all thrilled to bits about it.’
Hector resisted the urge to clamp his hand over her big blabbery mouth. ‘Well, I’m not—’
‘Oh, don’t go all coy on us now! You aren’t fooling anyone,’ Tara blithely chattered on. ‘In fact, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but the kitchen staff are taking bets that by Christmas we’ll have ourselves a new Lady of the Manor.’
Chapter 44
‘Poor old Tara, getting stood up last night.’ Christopher tut-tutted over the shop counter as he took Daisy’s money.
‘Not just stood up,’ Colin eagerly chimed in. ‘There she was waiting to meet him in the pub and he drove straight past, woomph, just like that, with another girl in his car.’
News traveled super-fast in Colworth. Daisy had already heard about the no-show from Hector, who had—bizarrely—persuaded Tara and Maggie to join him on a badger hunt last night. The next moment, as the shop door clanged open behind her, she was struck by a horrible thought.
‘The girl in the car with him. Um, what was she like?’
‘Not the foggiest.’ Colin shrugged and nodded a greeting at Barney, who had just come into the shop. ‘Barney might know.’
‘I might know what?’ Barney, in turn, smiled hello at Daisy.
‘The fellow who was supposed to be seeing Tara yesterday until he found himself a better offer. Daisy wants to know what the girl looked like.’
‘Liza was talking about it in the staff room last night.’ Barney frowned, trying to remember. ‘Long blonde hair, I think. And she was wearing a pink dress. Why?’
Oops. The frisky couple she’d turfed out of the gents’ loo.
‘Oh, no reason.’ Hastily Daisy changed the subject. ‘So how’s the cottage?’
Barney had moved out of the hotel two days earlier. At the mention of it, his eyes lit up with pleasure. ‘Brilliant. We’re just so happy with it.’
‘His girlfriend moved in yesterday,’ Christopher announced. ‘So sweet. Love’s young dream.’ Playfully he nudged Colin. ‘Remember when we used to be like that?’
‘I’d love you to meet her.’ Eagerly, Barney turned to Daisy. ‘If you’re not doing anything, you could come over now.’
With Vince back from Scotland, Daisy was taking a few hours off. She had come out in her jeans and one of Josh’s rugby shirts to stock up on Rolos and Smarties and glossy magazines.
‘I’m free. That sounds great,’ she told Barney because it clearly meant so much to him.
Beaming, Barney paid for his milk and sliced loaf. ‘Fantastic. You’ll be our first proper guest!’
***
Maggie was making cushions when Hector rang.
‘Maggie, just to say I won’t be able to make it tomorrow after all. Paula’s arranged for some friends to come over for the day. I thought I’d let you know, so you aren’t left waiting.’
‘That’s thoughtful of you. Thanks,’ Maggie said hurriedly before he could start apologizing. ‘And it’s fine, don’t worry about it, I’ve got a million cushions to make anyway.’
God, how many times recently had she told him it was fine and he wasn’t to worry about it.
In the beginning she’d accepted the situation on the basis that half a loaf was better than none. But the loaf had dwindled dramatically of late; let’s face it, she was down to half a slice.
‘I do feel I’m letting you down.’ Hector hesitated, sounding awkward. ‘Look, would you at least let me send you some money?’
‘No.’ Maggie winced with pain as the needle she’d been using jabbed into the palm of her hand. ‘No, Hector, I really don’t want your money and you have to stop letting this bother you. We had a private arrangement, that’s all. Now that you’ve met someone else, well, you no longer need my… services.’ Closing her eyes, she forced herself to say the shameful word.
‘But—’
‘Hector, let’s be honest, we both knew something like this would happen sooner or later. You’ve got Paula now. Why don’t we just leave it at that?’
Long silence. Maggie realized she was trembling violently. Still, it had needed to be done. It was the hardest thing she’d ever had to say. She might not have said it very well but at least she’d got the essential message across.
The sewing needle had sunk into her hand. Blood was now welling out like a miniature balloon. As she gazed down at it, tears simultaneously welled up in Maggie’s aching eyes.
This was it; she’d just tipped away the last few dried-up crumbs of the loaf.
‘I know what you’re saying.’ To his credit, Hector at least had the grace to sound disappointed. ‘I suppose it makes sense, I just can’t help—’
‘Have to go. Someone’s at the door,’ Maggie lied. ‘Anyway, see you around, best of luck to you and Paula.’ She slammed the phone down. Th
ere, done it. Dilemma solved.
It hurt to breathe and she felt more miserable than she could ever remember feeling before, but it was done. Their affair—business arrangement—was over and Hector had no idea how she felt about him. Which was a good thing, Maggie decided as the tears burned their way down her cheeks.
It might not be much but at least she’d escaped with her dignity intact.
Just so long as no one happened to be peering in at her through the window, wondering what a pathetic middle-aged woman was doing on her knees in the middle of the living room surrounded by cushions and bawling her eyes out like a child.
***
Freddie was playing contentedly with an assortment of colored plastic IKEA bowls on the kitchen floor. Mel, finishing the washing-up and remembering that she’d left her coffee mug and his feeding cup on the windowsill in the living room, shook the suds from her hands, wiped them briefly on a tea towel, and made her way through to fetch them.
It was when she glanced through the small leaded living-room window to see if Barney was on his way back from the shop yet that her stomach plummeted like a plane hitting an air pocket.
Barney was heading up the lane towards the cottage. And he had Steven’s wife with him.
Oh shit, not now, not yet. Backing away from the window in dismay, Mel cursed the cruel timing and briefly considered locking herself in the bathroom and refusing to come out. She had been planning to tell Barney everything tonight. Then, once he’d had a day or two to get used to the idea—and forgive her, of course—she’d decided he would go and see Daisy MacLean and explain the situation to her himself in his own gentle, apologetic way. Daisy clearly liked him, so it would be better coming from Barney. And then the deed would be done, all the awkwardness would be out of the way.
Well, that had been her brilliant plan.
There was no time to do anything. As the wooden gate clicked open, Mel tucked her hair behind her ears and braced herself. Anyway, she’d moved in now. She lived here. And Barney loved her. None of this was her fault, she hadn’t done it on purpose.
Her heart racing, Mel heard the two of them crunching up the snowy front path.
‘Barney, this is amazing, even the outside looks a hundred times better,’ Daisy was exclaiming with delight, evidently admiring the freshly painted front door and window frames. ‘I can’t wait to see what you’ve done inside—I’m expecting Blenheim Palace at the very least!’
They were both laughing as Barney opened the front door. Three, two, one, thought Mel. Here we go…
***
Daisy stopped laughing first. She stared at the brown-haired girl with wary grey eyes, recognizing her at once.
But how could she be here?
Barney, closing the door behind them, said cheerfully, ‘I’ve got the milk, and guess who I bumped into in the shop? Mel, this is Daisy!’ Eagerly grabbing Mel’s arm and propelling her forwards he added with pride, ‘Daisy, I want you to meet my girlfriend, Mel.’
Stunned, Daisy nodded and said, ‘Hi.’ Not what she wanted to say, but it was clear that Barney was oblivious of the connection between them.
Mel, nodding back and mustering a passable imitation of a smile, said, ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘I wanted to show Daisy what we’ve done to the cottage.’ Barney gestured around the living room, now carpeted and repainted and simply but comfortably furnished with, among other things, the old sofa Daisy had donated from the hotel.
‘It’s great.’ Daisy numbly looked where he was telling her to look. ‘You’ve worked really hard.’
‘You haven’t seen anything yet.’ His eyes dancing like an excited child’s, Barney said, ‘I’m just going to put the kettle on. We’ll have some tea, then I’ll show you the rest. Won’t be a minute.’
The moment he was out of the room, Daisy murmured, ‘I don’t know what’s going on here, but you certainly have some explaining to do. What is this, some kind of joke?’
Mel shook her head, twisting the swirly silver ring on the thumb of her left hand. ‘I swear, I didn’t know who he was. When I found out, I was as shocked as you are. And I was going to tell you, I had it all planned,’ she rattled on defensively. ‘I was going to come and see you tonight, to explain everything so you wouldn’t be shocked.’
‘Does Barney know?’ Daisy got straight to the point; after all, how long did it take to make three mugs of tea?
‘Not yet.’ The girl sighed. ‘I was going to tell him tonight too.’
‘Why didn’t you do it before?’ As if she couldn’t guess.
‘I was scared. I don’t want to upset him. I don’t want him to hate me. I kept putting it off… then when he asked me to move in with him here, I knew it was all going to come out… I’ve been gearing myself up to telling him.’ Mel raised her chin and gazed into Daisy’s eyes. ‘I do love him. He’s made my life worth living again. And Barney loves me.’
Slowly Daisy nodded. The initial shock was beginning to wear off. She could understand why Mel had been worried about telling Barney. And time was running out.
‘OK, look, I won’t say anything now. You can tell Barney when I’ve gone, sort it out with him in your own way.’ There. Daisy gave the girl an encouraging nod, feeling she was being more than fair. What more could Mel expect, for heaven’s sake? And why was she not looking happier about it? Honestly, talk about ungrateful.
‘Here we are!’ The kitchen door swung open and Barney reappeared, beaming all over his face and clutching not three mugs of tea, as Daisy had been expecting, but a small child with china-blue eyes and silky white-blond hair.
The previous shock simply didn’t compare with this one. Daisy felt as if the new carpet had been, literally, wrenched from beneath her feet.
One incredulous glance at Melanie Blake told her all she needed to know. The boy, brandishing a yellow plastic bowl, was a Bonsai version of Steven.
‘Couldn’t carry everything out in one go,’ said Barney with a grin. Swinging the boy round to face Daisy and waggling his tiny hand at her, he added, ‘This is Mel’s son, Freddie.’
Daisy no longer cared about being nice. Look where being reasonable and kind and fair had got her. Niceness promptly sailed out of the window.
‘I have to go.’ She couldn’t bring herself to look at the boy; she was having trouble breathing.
Barney looked dismayed. ‘Go? Why?’
‘Ask your girlfriend why.’ Mel’s face was stricken. Good. ‘And while you’re at it,’ Daisy hissed as she marched past him, ‘why don’t you ask her to tell you the name of her ex-boyfriend?’
‘Ex-boyfriend?’ Bewildered, Barney said, ‘What ex-boyfriend?’
Daisy knew she was upsetting Barney, who was completely innocent. None of this was his fault. But he had to know the truth.
‘My husband.’ For a moment she experienced a flicker of satisfaction as Mel visibly flinched. ‘The one who gave her that baby.’
Slamming the front door behind her, Daisy left them to it.
Her face felt rigid as if she’d left a face pack on all night. She marched back down Brocket’s Lane, provoking a volley of barking from Bert Connelly’s excitable dogs as she passed his cottage. Kicking at the snow, she pictured the toddler’s face again and experienced a jolt of anguish so acute it took her breath away. Don’t think about it, concentrate on something else, just get back home, get back home…
Chapter 45
‘Daisy, my fax machine’s playing up. OK if I borrow yours for— Jesus, are you all right?’
Oh brilliant, brilliant, of all the people to bump into at a time like this. Just what she needed.
‘I’m fine. Yes, no problem, use my fax.’ She attempted, slightly desperately, to dodge past Dev Tyzack and head on up the staircase but he hadn’t captained the England rugby team for nothing. Every time she moved to the left or right, he was there blocking her
. Unable to meet his gaze Daisy said tightly, ‘I’m melting snow into the carpet. Look, I said you can use the—’
‘Forget the fax. What’s wrong?’ Moving closer, Dev forced her to look at him. ‘Tell me.’
The fact that he was being kind only caused her mouth to start trembling. ‘Nothing. I just want to go—’
‘Has something happened to Josh? Skiing accident?’
‘No, no…’ God, couldn’t he leave her alone?
‘Daisy. Tell me what it is,’ ordered Dev, and this time her shoulders started to shake.
‘S-something h-h-horrible.’ She shook her head and sagged against the banister rail. The next moment, Dev’s hand was pressing into the small of her back, propelling her up the staircase.
‘OK, come on. Let’s get you out of here.’
Daisy allowed him to lead her up to her flat. She no longer had the energy to argue, and half of her was desperate to talk to someone. Anyone. Even if it was Dev.
He didn’t bother with faffing around in the kitchen making the obligatory tea or coffee, just sat her down on the sofa and said, ‘I can stay or I can go. It’s up to you.’
Quite suddenly Daisy didn’t want him to go. Wearily, she sank back against the cushions.
‘You must be busy.’
‘I don’t have to be. It’s not a problem. And you don’t have to tell me what’s upset you,’ Dev assured her. ‘Not if you don’t want to. It’s none of my business.’
This was like uncorking a champagne bottle. Daisy blurted out, ‘Barney’s just introduced me to his girlfriend. And it turns out she used to be my husband’s girlfriend too.’
Dev frowned. ‘You mean…?’
‘Oh yes, I do mean. The one he was seeing behind my back. She’s moved into the village with Barney, and you’ll never guess what else she’s brought along with her.’ As she said it, Daisy’s voice began to quaver. ‘Her one-year-old son. Steven’s son. Who looks exactly—and I mean exactly—like Steven.’