Jill Mansell Boxed Set

by Jill Mansell

  ‘How long did you say this has been going on?’ Maggie hadn’t said it at all, but Tara was longing to know.

  Proudly, Hector put his arm round Maggie’s shoulders. ‘Two years. Over two years.’

  Maggie had finally stopped blushing; even her throat was back to its normal color. Hector’s confidence was catching.

  ‘Two years and four months,’ she told Tara.

  ‘By the way,’ Hector counter-attacked, ‘what were you two doing upstairs?’

  ‘Tara was telling me she’s thinking of redecorating her room.’ Innocently Josh indicated his lime-green sweater. ‘She wanted to see how this color would look on the walls.’

  Biting her lip hard, Tara struggled to keep a straight face.

  ‘Two years and four months. And all this time he was paying you? Actually paying you?’

  ‘Let me tell you, she was worth every penny.’ Lovingly, Hector squeezed Maggie’s arm.

  ‘I hope you’re not going to give me a lecture,’ Maggie said bravely.

  ‘Bugger the lecture, I think it’s a fantastic idea! In fact,’ Tara gave Josh a nudge, ‘I think I might give it a go myself.’

  ***

  ‘Dad, I need to see you.’ Daisy darted out of her office, catching Hector as he was heading up to his apartment.

  Hector, giving up with good grace, turned and said, ‘Thought you might.’

  Daisy wished his eyes didn’t have to be so twinkly. She really wasn’t looking forward to doing this. What if he thought she was embroidering the truth simply because she didn’t like Paula?

  And she wasn’t, she honestly wasn’t. More than anything else in the world she wanted Hector to be happy.

  ‘So Tara rang you,’ he announced as she closed the office door behind him.

  ‘Tara? Why would Tara ring me?’ Oh, stop it, stop looking so cheerful.

  ‘Never mind,’ said Hector. ‘Now, what’s this about?’

  Here we go, thought Daisy. Whatever Hector decided, she wasn’t going to argue with him. He just deserved to know he was involved with the kind of woman who would kick a small dog like a football.

  Feeling terrible, she told him about the night of the fire and Clarissa’s run-in with Paula.

  Hector listened patiently. When she had finished, he said, ‘You never did like her much, did you?’

  Daisy squirmed. ‘Well, no. But that’s not why I’m telling you.’

  ‘I know.’ He nodded, looking thoughtful for a moment. ‘D’you like Maggie?’

  ‘Who?’ Completely wrong-footed, Daisy said in bewilderment, ‘You mean Tara’s Maggie?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  What in heaven’s name was he on about? What kind of question was that? Indignantly Daisy said, ‘Of course I like Maggie!’

  Rising from his seat to leave, Hector replied with a smile of satisfaction, ‘Good.’

  Chapter 59

  ‘Excuse me, what did you just say?’

  Paula stared at Hector in disbelief. One minute she’d been happily chatting on the phone to her agent whilst admiring her just-manicured apricot-pink fingernails. Then, in the space of less than thirty seconds, Hector had burst into her suite and announced that their relationship was over.

  For a few moments she’d actually waited for him to deliver the punch line and start laughing, so convinced was she that it was a joke.

  But Hector was showing no sign of amusement, and there didn’t appear to be a punch line in sight.

  ‘No hard feelings,’ Hector said calmly. ‘It was fun while it lasted.’ Although, now he came to think about it, this wasn’t altogether true. Paula never had been much of a one for fun. Still, it sounded good.

  ‘You’re finishing with me?’ Paula’s mouth narrowed to a hard line. This had never happened to her before. Throughout her life, she had always been the one who did the finishing. For Christ’s sake, she was Paula Penhaligon!

  ‘I think it’s run its course, don’t you?’ Hector’s hands were in his trouser pockets, his stance casual. As if they were discussing a restaurant that had turned out to be a bit of a disappointment.

  ‘This is outrageous,’ Paula exploded. ‘You must be out of your mind!’

  ‘You kicked Clarissa.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Dev Tyzack’s dog. The night of the fire.’

  Now she knew he was deranged. ‘You’re saying it’s over between us because I kicked a dog?’

  Hector said, ‘Isn’t that reason enough?’ Then he hesitated. The sooner this was over, the better for all concerned. ‘OK, it’s not the main reason. There is someone else.’

  ‘You’re lying.’ Paula’s glossy apricot nails dug into her palms. ‘How can there be someone else? We’re always together—you haven’t had time to see someone else!’

  Hector shook his head. ‘She’s someone I’ve known for a long time. A lovely lady. She lives here in the village.’

  ‘I don’t believe this.’ He was actually finishing with her for some other woman? The nerve of it! Her eyes like shards of steel, Paula hissed, ‘Who is she?’

  Relax. No more secrets. Everything out in the open.

  ‘Her name’s Maggie. She’s Tara’s aunt.’

  Oh no, no, this was too much. Not half an hour ago Paula had been flicking through the newspaper, reading the story of the repairman held hostage and studying the accompanying photograph. It was, she’d discovered, the same woman whom she’d last seen bedraggled and sprawled on all fours in the snow with a smashed bottle of wine at her feet.

  ‘She wears a parka!’

  ‘So do I,’ said Hector.

  Enraged, Paula picked up a glass ashtray and hurled it at him. Even more infuriatingly, it missed and bounced off the wall. ‘You bastard,’ she screeched at Hector. ‘Just fucking get out.’

  ***

  Almost there, almost there. Feeling like a private detective, Daisy double-checked the name of the road and took a deep breath. Yesterday, looking up the address on the computer in her office, she had jumped a mile when the door had been flung open by Pam. Prickling with guilt and convinced she’d been found out, Daisy had sent the mouse scooting across her desk and yelped, ‘What d’you want?’

  Of course that had been Pam’s cue to exclaim, ‘You’ll never guess what’s just happened. Paula Penhaligon’s gone!’

  Which had been a double relief.

  Paula, it transpired, had called Barney up to her suite to collect her packed bags. She had then stormed out of the hotel and into a waiting car without so much as a goodbye. Nor had she left Barney a tip.

  Daisy was just glad Pam hadn’t come bursting into the office to accuse her of looking up Dev’s address because she fancied him rotten.

  But like a song you hear on the radio and can’t get out of your head, Daisy had been haunted by Pam and Brenda’s remarks. If Dev was only pretending that his house had been wrecked in order to move into the hotel, could it be possible that he was doing it because he did have, as Brenda put it, a soft spot for her? It sounded completely mad, but Daisy couldn’t rest until she knew. She also knew she couldn’t ask Dev.

  Which was why she was here now, turning into Garrick Avenue. And since it was a simple enough mission, there was absolutely no need to be nervous. Dev lived at number 15, further down on the left. All she had to do was drive past the house and see if there were any decorators’ vans parked outside. Painters and decorators invariably used vans advertising their company name. One little van, that was all she needed to put Brenda’s ridiculously far-fetched theory out of her mind for good.

  Slowly Daisy drove the entire length of the broad, tree-lined street.

  She turned at the end and drove back again.

  Apart from a smart green and white one delivering food from a delicatessen to number 38, there were no vans.

  Oh shit. Dai
sy’s mouth was dry, her stomach squirming like a nest of snakes. She’d kind of guessed, of course, that Dev found her attractive—he’d never made an effort to hide it. But for an apparently normal man to lie through his teeth and move into a hotel that quite frankly wasn’t cheap, purely in order to be near someone he liked—well, wasn’t that the tiniest bit sinister? Dev didn’t seem like an obsessed stalker but he might just be brilliant at hiding it.

  Unsettled by this creepy thought, Daisy stopped the car. It was only four o’clock; the decorators should still be here. She’d been so sure she’d find a van in the road.

  OK, be sensible now. Maybe Dev was using a decorator who for some reason didn’t own a van. She’d come this far, she may as well take a closer look. If she wandered casually past the house she might catch a glimpse of a strange man in paint-splashed overalls through one of the windows. Since she’d left Dev back at the hotel it would even be safe to ring the doorbell and see if a painter type answered it.

  And then? Well, pretend to be a Jehovah’s Witness, obviously, and pray he’d slam the door in her face.

  But when she rang the bell, there was no response. Nobody, painterly or otherwise, came to answer the door. Daisy tried again.

  Still nothing.

  She moved to one of the front windows. With the sun bouncing off the glass it was hard to see inside, but there certainly didn’t appear to be any stepladders and paint pots cluttering the place up. By cupping her hands around her eyes and pressing her nose to the window she was able to make out a Georgian dining table and chairs in the center of the room, a rather grand marble fireplace and several nicely framed paintings hung on walls papered with—

  ‘Daisy?’

  So engrossed in the act of snooping that she hadn’t even heard the car pulling up, Daisy banged her nose painfully against the glass and jack-knifed round.

  Bottle-green, that was the color of Dev’s dining room wallpaper.

  Feeling pretty white-with-a-hint-of-green herself, Daisy waved feebly at Dev in the driver’s seat.

  This was, officially, An Embarrassing Moment.

  ‘Um… hi.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Daisy winced. She’d been so hoping he wouldn’t ask that question. Her brain, scrambling hamster-style for some kind of answer, was spectacularly failing to come up with one. Unless she could manage to convince Dev that in her spare time she actually was a door-knocking Jehovah’s Witness.

  While she dithered, Dev reversed into a tight space. Annoyingly, he did it in about two seconds flat without even hitting the curb or the car behind.

  ‘Well?’ he said, when he reached Daisy.

  Mentally she psyched herself up. Sometimes, when you couldn’t think of a single convincing lie, you just had to resort to the truth.

  OK, Mr Expert-Reverser, let’s see you get out of this one.

  ‘I wondered how your decorating was coming along.’

  ‘You asked me that the other day.’ Dev waited. ‘I told you, it’s almost finished.’

  Despite the fact that he clearly didn’t believe her, Daisy persisted brightly, ‘Can I see the house?’

  ‘Why?’

  Oh sod it, may as well come clean. ‘Because someone recently told me that they didn’t think your house was being redecorated. In fact, they thought there’d probably never been any burst pipes and flooding in the first place.’

  ‘Really?’ The corners of his mouth flickered for a moment. ‘And am I allowed to ask what made them think that?’

  Not wanting to implicate Pam and Brenda, Daisy waved an arm at the parked cars lining the street. ‘Where are your decorators?’

  ‘Finished early today,’ said Dev. ‘They’re off to some bachelor party in Cheltenham.’

  Was this a lie?

  ‘So can I see what they’ve been doing?’

  He hesitated.

  He was lying!

  ‘OK,’ Dev said at last. ‘If it’ll make you happy.’

  Daisy watched him fit the key into the lock. Her heart began to beat faster.

  As the front door swung open she was instantly struck by…

  Chapter 60

  …the smell of fresh paint.

  Slowly, very slowly, Daisy breathed out again. Fresh paint and lots of it. And newly replastered ceilings. Following Dev through to the kitchen she saw rolls of wallpaper stacked up in readiness against the wall. Pots of eggshell emulsion were piled neatly in one corner along with folded-up dust sheets, a pasting table and an assortment of brushes.

  ‘This is the last room,’ said Dev. ‘They’ve finished the rest of the house. Unless you think all this stuff’s only here to impress visitors.’ Dryly he added, ‘Maybe you’d like to speak to them yourself, just to prove they exist.’

  ‘No thanks.’ Daisy shook her head vigorously as he took out his mobile and punched in a number. She backed away in alarm as Dev tried to make her take the phone.

  Grinning, he said, ‘Jeff, hi, it’s Dev Tyzack. Yes, I’ve just arrived. Now listen, I’m up in London tomorrow so I’ll leave the money here for you to pick up in the morning, is that OK? Good. And you’ll be finished by Friday? Brilliant. Jeff, before I go, could you just do me a favor and have a word with a friend of mine? Thanks.’

  Refusing to be intimidated any longer, Daisy grasped the nettle. Well, the phone.

  ‘Hi, Jeff, I understand you’re a painter and decorator. Could you tell me the name of your firm please?’

  At the other end of the phone, a bewildered-sounding Jeff said, ‘Um, Phoenix Services.’

  ‘Thanks very much.’ Daisy nodded efficiently. ‘Goodbye.’

  ‘Happy now?’ inquired Dev.

  ‘Phoenix Services.’

  ‘Right.’

  Since there was no longer any need to protect her staff, Daisy said, ‘When my secretary asked you what they were called, you didn’t know.’

  ‘Ah, I see.’ Dev nodded, understanding at last. ‘Well, that’s because until recently Jeff was trading as JR Services. His surname’s Richardson,’ he explained, as if Daisy had learning difficulties. ‘But a couple of weeks ago, a man called John Rowlands contacted him. He’s another decorator from Melksham and guess what his company name is?’

  Irritably, Daisy said, ‘OK, OK, I’m not six.’

  ‘You were the one who wanted to know this,’ Dev pointed out. ‘So anyway, John Rowlands is branching out, moving to Bath, and he offered Jeff money to change the name of his business. When your secretary asked me what it was called, I couldn’t remember offhand what they’d decided on.’

  ‘Well, that’s that sorted out.’ Daisy wanted him to stop now; she had the nasty feeling he was laughing at her.

  ‘Oh, come on, cheer up.’ Dev flashed her a dazzling smile. ‘Seeing as you’ve come all this way, you may as well have a look at what’s been done.’

  She let him give her the guided tour. It was a stunning house. Jeff had done a good job. Daisy dutifully admired the decor in every room and wondered how soon she could decently leave.

  Dev waited until they were back in the kitchen before asking the killer question; the one she’d spent the last twenty minutes dreading.

  ‘What I don’t understand is, why would anyone pretend their house was wrecked if it wasn’t?’ He shook his head at Daisy, seemingly perplexed. ‘More to the point, why on earth would they want to move into a hotel when they already had a perfectly good home?’

  Oh help, mustn’t go red, mustn’t go red…

  ‘Well, quite.’ Daisy looked equally puzzled. ‘That’s exactly what I was wondering! I mean, it doesn’t make any sense at all, but when Brenda said—’

  ‘But what I really, really don’t understand,’ Dev interrupted, ‘is why, if you were that mystified, you didn’t do the obvious thing and just ask me.’

  Hi
s gaze was impenetrable. Bugger. The ferocious blush Daisy had been so heroically keeping at bay was suddenly rampaging out of control. She felt it swoosh up her neck, all the way to her hairline. In fact the top of her head was probably blushing too.

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t want to… um, embarrass you.’

  Dev smiled. ‘Actually, I think I’ve got it. You thought I’d made up the flood story and moved into the hotel because I liked you so much I was prepared to do anything to be near you. Am I right?’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Daisy forced out a laugh that bordered on the hysterical. ‘What a thing to suggest! Of course I didn’t think that!’

  Bloody Brenda, this was all her fault. She definitely deserved the sack.

  ‘Sure?’ murmured Dev.

  ‘Absolutely! God, that’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard!’

  ‘Only you’re blushing.’ He moved towards her. ‘Quite a lot, in fact.’

  That was the really annoying thing about paper bags: they were never around when you needed them.

  ‘I have to go,’ Daisy blustered, trying to get past him. Thank God he was moving out of the hotel the day after tomorrow.

  ‘Not yet.’ Putting out an arm, Dev said, ‘Actually, you were half right.’

  Confused, Daisy stopped struggling. ‘Half right about what?’

  ‘I liked you a lot. Maybe not enough to run up to the loft and drill holes in the water tank,’ Dev amended, ‘but enough to choose to move into your hotel rather than any of the others.’

  Daisy’s heart was beating very fast now; she could feel it leaping in her throat. Hadn’t she always known this, really? And why was it having such a paralyzing effect now?

  But it was all very well knowing it in theory. It wasn’t quite so easy to stay calm when the person in question was standing right in front of you, calmly telling you how they felt.

  ‘I’ve said this before,’ Dev went on, ‘and I know you don’t like it, but you and Josh aren’t right for each other. You’re with him because he makes you feel safe.’ He paused. ‘And that isn’t good enough. It’s a shitty way to live—it’s such a waste. You deserve more than that. I saw you talking to Josh yesterday and it’s obvious you don’t love him. It was like watching two friends.’