Jill Mansell Boxed Set

by Jill Mansell

  Any mention of police brought the memory of Steven’s accident flooding back. Daisy shivered. ‘Did they say what it was about?’

  Tara, coming off duty and sauntering through reception with her denim jacket slung over one shoulder, said jauntily, ‘What’s what about?’

  ‘Something about someone being held hostage.’ Pam looked important. ‘Imagine, right here in the High Street!’

  ‘Which cottage?’ Daisy found it hard to believe. This was Colworth after all, not the Bronx.

  ‘They didn’t say. Just that it had a blue front door.’

  Daisy and Tara looked at each other. Pam didn’t live in the village. The only blue front door in the High Street was Maggie’s.

  ‘Come on.’ Daisy’s heart was thumping. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ Tara groaned. ‘God, this is so embarrassing. My own aunt…’

  Quite a crowd had gathered by this time, milling around in the street along with the assembled press. Maggie, it transpired, was currently on the phone conducting a live radio interview. A TV crew was waiting for her to finish so they could film her for the six o’clock news. Meanwhile, Christopher and Colin from the shop—in matching technicolor waistcoats—were telling a reporter about the months of hassle she’d endured at the hands of the company that had failed to fix her washing machine.

  ‘It’s not embarrassing,’ Daisy exclaimed, ‘it’s completely brilliant! Ooh, look, here she is now.’

  Maggie appeared at the bedroom window, bright-eyed and confident, facing the cameras like a pro.

  ‘Maggie! Any word yet from Carver’s? Are they sending another washing machine?’

  ‘I’ve just heard from them,’ Maggie called down to the journalist from the Bath Echo. ‘They’re consulting their solicitors.’ Her mouth twitching, she added, ‘I’m sooo scared.’

  ‘Good on ya, girl!’ hooted an American tourist, clapping and whistling his approval. ‘Way to go!’

  ‘Maggie, could we have a picture of the two of you?’

  Tara was still mortified. This simply wasn’t the kind of behavior you expected of a sedate, middle-class, cushion-making aunt. The next moment, Maggie was joined at the upstairs window by her hostage and the cameras began to flash.

  ‘Blimey,’ said Daisy, impressed.

  Hector, on his way back from the bank, pulled up in his Land Rover and buzzed down the window.

  ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Maggie’s kidnapped her repairman. She’s not letting him go until she gets a new washing machine.’ Daisy was loving every minute of this. ‘That’s him up there with her now. Isn’t it fantastic?’

  Hector, looking up at the window, wasn’t so sure. Of course he admired Maggie for taking a stand, but the way she and the repairman were laughing together was making him feel distinctly uneasy.

  One of the TV crews was currently roaming the street in search of a fresh voice to interview. Since it was the kind of thing Hector was great at, Daisy said, ‘Go on, Dad, you speak to them. Tell them we’re all behind Maggie.’

  ‘I don’t know…’ Hector hesitated as one of the reporters shouted up.

  ‘Hey, Dino, how’s she treating you?’

  ‘Dino,’ Tara murmured in appreciation. ‘Italian. That explains the eyes.’

  ‘She’s treating me very well. Couldn’t have been kidnapped by a nicer woman.’ Dino’s smile broadened to reveal even white teeth. ‘No complaints at all.’

  Hector’s hands tightened convulsively on the steering wheel.

  ‘Tara!’ exclaimed Maggie, spotting them for the first time. ‘Darling, so sorry about this. You don’t mind if I don’t let you in, do you?’

  Tara was taken aback. ‘But—’

  ‘You can stay with Daisy until this is sorted out, can’t she, Daisy?’

  ‘No problem. You’re doing a great job there, Maggie,’ Daisy replied cheerfully.

  ‘In fact, you could do us a huge favor.’ Digging in the pocket of her jeans, Maggie unearthed a crumpled twenty-pound note. Beckoning Daisy forward, she dropped it down to her. ‘There’s just a couple of things you could get us from the shop. A jar of green olives, one of those little tins of anchovies, and a bottle of wine.’ She turned to Dino. ‘Red or white?’

  ‘Red,’ said Dino.

  ‘In fact, make it two bottles.’ Maggie winked at Daisy. ‘After all, we may be here for some time.’

  Hector had heard enough. He rammed the Land Rover into gear. ‘I have to get back. Paula’s waiting for me.’

  ‘But how long is this going to last?’ Tara was bewildered. ‘I need a change of clothes. I mean, she’ll have her new machine by tonight, won’t she?’

  ‘That’s up to the company,’ one of the journalists explained. ‘If they refuse to give in, this could carry on for days. Not that he seems too bothered,’ he went on, jerking his thumb in Dino’s direction. ‘Then again, if I was being held hostage by a woman like that, I’d make the most of it too.’

  Stunned, Tara exclaimed, ‘That’s my aunt you’re talking about!’

  ‘So?’ The journalist glanced up at Maggie in admiration. ‘I’m telling you, he’s a lucky bloke.’

  Slamming his foot down on the accelerator, Hector roared off.

  Doesn’t want to keep Paula waiting, thought Daisy with a touch of annoyance. Since the incident with Clarissa, she had gone right off Paula. She was also disappointed that Hector hadn’t stayed to voice his support for Maggie. Oh well.

  ‘We’ve got shopping to get.’ She waved the twenty-pound note at Tara, then shouted up, ‘What kind of red? Merlot? Claret?’

  Without hesitation, Dino called back, ‘Montepulciano.’

  Tara raised an eyebrow. Montepulciano was Maggie’s favorite.

  Chapter 56

  ‘You’re a star,’ said Maggie, keeping the safety chain on while Tara fed the olives, the anchovies, and the two bottles of wine one by one through the four-inch opening in the door. Having taken possession of everything, she returned the favor by squeezing a supermarket carrier through the gap.

  Tara opened the bag. As well as a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, it contained her toothbrush, Robbie Williams T-shirt-cum-nightie, battered pink terry cloth slippers (so uncool), and makeup bag.

  ‘So he’s staying the night.’ She still couldn’t believe Maggie was actually doing this.

  ‘Looks like he’ll have to.’ Maggie shrugged. ‘No sign so far of my new washing machine.’

  Tara noted with disapproval that she wasn’t exactly sounding distraught.

  ‘Never mind her,’ said Daisy, indicating Tara’s pursed mouth. ‘Are you having fun?’

  Maggie grinned, instantly looking ten years younger. ‘Daisy, the most fun I’ve had in my life.’

  ***

  ‘Daisy. Can I have a quick word?’

  Daisy’s heart sank as Mel approached her in reception. She had another meeting lined up. She could handle being civil to Mel but she really didn’t want to be her friend.

  ‘I’m a bit busy.’

  ‘Sorry, I know. It won’t take long.’ Mel was clearly determined to have her say. ‘Barney’s just told me something I think you should know.’

  Barney. Brilliant. Had he had an affair with Steven too?

  ‘What?’ Daisy glanced at her watch.

  ‘The night of the fire. He saw Paula Penhaligon kicking Clarissa.’

  Now Mel had her undivided attention.

  ‘What?’

  ‘He was too embarrassed to tell you. I mean, she is pretty famous, isn’t she? But I said you’d want to know. That night, she turned up with Hector in her high heels. Barney saw Clarissa dancing around her and Paula just kicked her away. Really hard, according to Barney.’

  Daisy didn’t know whether to feel sickened or elated.

  ‘Really hard?’<
br />
  Mel nodded.

  ‘Like a football.’

  Well.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Daisy.

  ***

  She couldn’t bring herself to admit it to Dino—too embarrassing for words—but Maggie had never eaten homemade fresh pasta before. The difference between homemade fresh and supermarket dried was unbelievable. The two bottles of Montepulciano had been jolly nice too.

  ‘That was delicious,’ Maggie sighed, pushing her empty plate away.

  The great thing about the word delicious was that you could be a bit tipsy and still pronounce it.

  ‘It was.’ Dino nodded in agreement, his elbows resting comfortably on the table. His dark eyes bright with mischief, he said, ‘Are they still outside?’

  Maggie raised herself slightly unsteadily from her seat, just enough to see through the living-room window.

  ‘Some of them. I wonder what they’re thinking.’

  ‘Doesn’t take a tabloid journalist to work it out.’ Dino grinned at her. ‘You can’t really blame them. It’s a nice little angle.’ He paused, then said gently, ‘We could, you know, if you wanted to. I’ve really enjoyed this evening. I think you’re great.’

  Gosh. Maggie was flattered but taken aback. It just went to show how hopelessly out of practice she was. These days, clearly, if a man found you attractive and fancied sleeping with you—well, he just came right out and said it. No shilly-shallying around.

  ‘We’re both adults,’ Dino went on easily. Moving their wine glasses out of the way, he reached for her hand. ‘So, what d’you think?’

  Maggie was lost for words. Talk about upfront. Then again, why shouldn’t he be?

  Flushing slightly, she realized she was tempted. Why not? After the misery of the last few weeks, didn’t she deserve a bit of cheering up?

  ‘Decisions decisions,’ Dino teased. Crossing over to the window he waved to the loitering journalists, flashed them a cheeky grin, and drew the curtains.

  A ragged cheer went up outside.

  Under the table, Maggie felt her knees begin to knock.

  ‘No pressure,’ Dino promised, drawing her to her feet. Then he put his arms round her and kissed her.

  It was a really nice kiss. Warm and skillful and just the right pressure, not too hard and not too soft. All in all, as kisses went, practically perfect.

  Sadly, it came from the wrong mouth.

  The moment his lips brushed against hers, Maggie knew she couldn’t go through with it. Dino was attractive and single and thoroughly good company, all the things you could ask for in a man, but he simply wasn’t Hector.

  Gently, she extricated herself and gave him a rueful smile. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Maggie nodded.

  ‘Damn,’ said Dino good-naturedly. ‘I hate it when that happens.’

  Maggie laughed; she couldn’t imagine it happened often. ‘Shall I make some coffee?’

  He nodded. ‘Coffee would be great.’

  While she was boiling the kettle, the phone began to ring in the living room. Dino, who was nearest, answered it.

  ‘Who was that?’ said Maggie when he appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  He shrugged. ‘No one. The line just went dead.’

  Two minutes later, the phone rang again. This time Maggie picked it up.

  ‘Jealous lover?’ Dino whispered as he put her cup of coffee on the table in front of her.

  Some hope.

  Maggie briefly covered the receiver. ‘Not quite. Sky News.’

  ***

  ‘Where have you been?’ demanded Paula when Hector came downstairs.

  ‘Fixing up a round of golf for tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ve been waiting down here for ages,’ she complained. ‘They’re expecting us in the restaurant at ten o’clock, so we’ve time for a drink in the bar before going through.’

  The hotel bar was full of press, but Paula no longer minded. The last faint signs of bruising had faded from her face and neck. That plastic surgeon had certainly known what he was doing. Modesty aside, she knew she looked great.

  That was the funny thing about the press—you complained about them when they pestered you nonstop, but after a few weeks without them you found you kind of missed having them around.

  Hector glanced in the direction of the smoky bar and shook his head. The hotel was buzzing with talk of Maggie and her handsome hostage; everywhere he went, people were discussing them and speculating on the likely outcome.

  ‘It’s too noisy in there. Anyway, I’d rather eat out tonight.’

  ‘Dad! Can I talk to you?’ Daisy shot out of the bar to the accompaniment of several wolf whistles, the journalists noisily demonstrating their appreciation of her black-stockinged legs and above-the-knee leather skirt.

  ‘Sorry, we’re running late.’ Hector, who just wanted to get out of the hotel, abruptly took Paula’s arm. ‘Some other time.’

  ‘Oh bum,’ said Daisy, when they’d gone.

  ‘That’s a coincidence.’ One of the journalists winked at her. ‘We were just remarking on yours.’

  ***

  Maggie was woken the next morning by the sound of tapping on her door. Her first thought was: bleeugh, red wine hangover. The second was to be fervently grateful that she hadn’t slept with Dino last night.

  ‘Are you decent?’ called Dino through the door.

  ‘Yes.’ Completely decent. Hooray!

  He came in, carrying a mug of tea and a newspaper. ‘Thought you might like to see this.’

  Wriggling into a sitting position, Maggie thirstily gulped down the hot tea and opened the paper. Unbelievably, there they were, on page 14 of the Daily Mail. A surprisingly flattering photograph of her leaning out of the bedroom window with Dino beside her. The tone of the accompanying piece—the consumer strikes back—was upbeat and supportive, and for good measure there was a second smaller photo of Dino dressed as Frank Sinatra for his appearance in Stars In Their Eyes.

  I could have slept with Frank Sinatra last night, thought Maggie with a smile.

  The irony that this was Hector’s all-time favorite singer didn’t escape her.

  ‘I’ve put some toast in downstairs. And we’ll have to switch the phone back on,’ said Dino, sounding efficient. Tossing Maggie’s dressing gown over to her, he went to pull back the curtains.

  ‘Don’t!’ squeaked Maggie, but it was too late. Sunlight poured into the room.

  ‘Look at that. They’re outside waiting for us,’ Dino marveled.

  ‘And now they’ve seen you opening my bedroom curtains! What are they going to think?’

  Battling frantically to get into her dressing gown, she stopped to listen to herself. ‘Oh sod it, who cares? We already know what they think.’

  Joining Dino at the window, Maggie exclaimed with delight at the sight of the reporters gathered outside, and flung open the window to hear what they were shouting up at her.

  ‘Morning, Maggie! Did you have a good night?’

  ‘Marvelous, thanks.’ She broke into a broad grin. ‘I’m feeling very… rested.’

  ‘Are you letting him go?’

  ‘Not until I get my new washing machine.’

  ‘Any word yet from Carver’s?’

  ‘Nothing so far. Then again, we’ve still got the phone switched off.’

  ‘Any chance of a cup of tea?’ one of the reporters shouted up hopefully.

  ‘What?’ Maggie was distracted by the sight of Hector at the back of the group. Until that moment she hadn’t realized he was there.

  ‘Cup of tea?’ The reporter blew on his hands and rubbed them together; the sun might be shining but it was still nippy outside.

  ‘Of course. I’ll put the kettle on,’ Maggie promised.

  Dino placed a
reassuring hand on her shoulder. ‘You get yourself dressed. I’ll make the tea.’

  The reporters chuckled.

  ‘Reckon you’ll miss him when he’s gone, Maggie. You’ve struck gold there!’

  Hector, not chuckling, turned and headed back up the road.

  Chapter 57

  The phone rang less than a minute after Maggie had switched it back on.

  ‘Oh! Mr Ellison!’ Hurriedly swallowing her mouthful of toast, she waggled her eyebrows at Dino, who was busy piling sugar into an assortment of mugs.

  ‘Ms Donovan, you’ve caused more than enough trouble for Carver’s.’ Gilbert Ellison, his tone distinctly frosty, didn’t add that his company chairman, having been shown this morning’s papers, had given him a right bollocking for not getting the matter sorted out before now. ‘I’m ringing to inform you that a replacement machine will be delivered to you by eleven o’clock this morning.’

  ‘And fitted,’ Maggie prompted. ‘Free of charge. And it has to be a washer-dryer,’ she reminded him.

  ‘One of our most exclusive models.’ Gilbert Ellison sounded as if he hated her. ‘Naturally. As a gesture of goodwill from Carver’s.’

  ‘Well, thanks. That’s very sweet of you,’ lied Maggie.

  When she’d hung up the phone she looked at Dino, then punched the air in most un-Maggie-like fashion and said, ‘Yesss!’

  ***

  The van duly arrived at ten to eleven. A roar of approval went up from the assembled crowd as the top-of-the-range machine was ceremoniously unloaded and carried into the cottage. Gilbert Ellison had turned up too, clearly determined to prove to the press that Carver’s were good sports really. Posing for the cameras, he flashed an oily smile and presented Maggie with a bottle of cheap champagne. Addressing the journalists, he explained how much Carver’s valued their customers and how sorry he was that on this occasion, despite their very best efforts, Maggie had been let down.

  By eleven thirty the new machine had been installed by Dino and was whirling happily away, washing the first of many grubby loads.