by Jill Mansell
Kate flashed him a sunnily insincere smile and kept it in place until he’d refilled her glass. Then she began flipping through the pages of the magazine once more. Dexter watched her sitting with her legs crossed, agitatedly jiggling her left foot. Any minute now her shoe would fall off.
“Tuh.” Kate snorted. Leaning across, he just had time to catch the headline “Older women, younger men” before the page was turned over with a slap.
“Now that’s more like it.” Dexter nodded approvingly at the double-page spread now facing them. Turquoise sky, glittering emerald-green sea, a great swath of white-blond sand. Outside the pub, as if to emphasize the contrast, the rain was hammering down even harder than before.
“Maybe that’s what I should do.” Kate ran an index finger longingly over the sweeping curve of beach. “Just get out of here, go live somewhere completely out of the way. Why not?” she asked accusingly, spotting Dexter’s raised eyebrows. “A tropical beach would suit me fine, on a little island in the middle of nowhere. I could run a beach bar.”
“I’ve heard Weston-Super-Mare’s nice,” said Dexter.
“The Seychelles. I’m serious,” Kate insisted. “I was thinking about it last night. The only reason I came back here was because this was where my family lived. Well, that’s a complete shambles now. They’re both off doing their own thing. So basically what’s left to keep me here? Who’d miss me?”
Having spent the last weeks biting his tongue, Dexter said, “Me.”
Chapter 46
There, he’d done it. The sensation of a tightly coiled spring letting go and abruptly bouncing undone ricocheted through Dexter’s chest.
Kate, who hadn’t been paying attention, said distractedly, “What?”
“I would. I’d miss you. I wouldn’t want you to go.” It was such a relief to be able to say it at last. Now that he’d started, Dexter found he couldn’t stop.
Kate shot him a pitying look. “It’s only barmaiding, for heaven’s sake. Anyone can do it. If you weren’t so stroppy, you’d find it a lot easier to keep staff.”
“I’m not talking about a replacement barmaid. That isn’t why I don’t want you to go,” said Dexter.
Kate frowned. “I’m not with you.”
Suddenly wishing he was better looking—and a stone slimmer—Dexter said brusquely, “Do I have to spell it out? I like you. A lot. OK, I really fancy you.”
Kate stared at him in disbelief. Belatedly it occurred to Dexter that he may just have terrified her into handing in her notice, grabbing her passport, and jumping onto the nearest plane. This could, in fact, be a fine example of shooting yourself in both feet simultaneously.
“What is this?” Kate demanded at last. “Some kind of consolation prize? Jake Harvey wasn’t interested in me, but never mind, you’re prepared to step into the breach?”
Another flash of lightning crackled across the sky, followed almost at once by an earsplitting crash of thunder. The storm was directly overhead now.
“I thought Jake was interested,” said Dexter.
“Oh, he was. For one night only. As soon as he got what he wanted”—Kate was defensive—“the novelty wore off.”
“Good,” Dexter said bluntly. “I’m glad. His loss.”
“Look, you really don’t have to say all this stuff. I’m not a child.”
“I’m doubly glad to hear that. Can I tell you something?”
“Could I stop you?” Kate retaliated, and although her tone was brisk, Dexter saw that her hands were trembling. Whether that was a good or a bad sign was anybody’s guess.
“It was you who made me realize Nuala and I had no future.” Dexter came straight to the point. “We were a disaster together. We brought out the worst in each other. But you’re the complete opposite of Nuala. The first time I saw you, I thought you were fantastic. Unique. I remember wishing Nuala could be more like you, except of course she can’t, because she just isn’t. But I knew I’d never felt like this about anyone before. That’s why I let Nuala finish with me.” Dexter paused and raked his fingers through his hair. “So there you are. Now you know.”
OK. Here came the downright scary bit.
“I don’t believe you.” Kate was staring at him as if he’d just grown an extra head. “You’re making it up.”
Dexter rubbed the faint growth of dark stubble on his chin. “Trust me, I don’t have the imagination to make up something like this.”
Her tone accusing, Kate said, “If it was true, you’d have said something before now. I mean, why wouldn’t you?”
“You weren’t ready to hear it. Plus, I’m a man,” Dexter amended. “We don’t just go around blurting this stuff out, you know. It’s not the easiest thing to do. We have to be pretty desperate.”
Rain was rattling the windows. It sounded as though shovel-loads of gravel were being hurled dementedly at the glass.
“But…but you’re so rude to me,” stammered Kate.
“So? You’re rude to me too. But I don’t say the kind of things I used to say to Nuala.” Dexter shook his head to emphasize his point. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Not with you.”
Kate was gazing anxiously into her empty brandy glass. “I could do with another refill.”
“Forget it. You’d only fall off your stool. Anyway,” said Dexter, “if I can get through this sober, so can you.”
Kate’s foot was jiggling away again. She didn’t speak.
“Look,” Dexter plowed on, “I’m never going to be Mr. Sweetness and Light. That’s just not the way I am. Who’s that Irish fellow on breakfast TV, the cheery, chubby one all the housewives love?”
“Eamonn,” said Kate.
“That’s the one. Makes me want to chuck a brick through the TV.”
“Probably because he has more hair than you.”
“I’m just saying, we’re not alike. Jokey and jovial is not who I am. If I think someone’s an idiot, I’ll let them know. But that’s life, isn’t it? We all have our own characters. We’re drawn to different people. I was drawn to you that first night you came into this pub with your mother,” said Dexter. “There you were, scowling, snarling, and glowering like the wicked witch in a pantomime, refusing to so much as look at anyone. The next thing I knew, you’d had a showdown with Maddy in the ladies’ bathroom, hurled a couple of insults at Nuala, and stormed out. Everyone else in the pub was stunned.” He reminisced with a crooked smile. “I just thought, ‘Wow, that’s the girl for me.’”
This was too much for Kate. Sliding jerkily off her stool, she made her way to the other side of the bar, where Dexter was standing. Reaching past him, she grabbed the cognac bottle by the neck, headed back to her stool, and sat down again.
“So you’ve really been thinking that?” Carefully she double-checked. “All this time?”
“I have.” Dexter nodded.
Talk about a surreal situation. Kate’s hand went up to the damaged side of her face. Defensively she said, “What about this?”
“I love your scars. They’re my favorite part of you. I’m a pretty selfish person,” said Dexter. “From my point of view, I’m glad you’ve got them. Let’s be brutally honest here,” he went on. “If you didn’t have them, you wouldn’t look at me twice. I wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Kate felt as if she’d been slapped. Outraged, she retorted, “What makes you think you stand a chance now?”
“Oh, come on. I’m not completely stupid. I’ve seen the way you look at me.” Dexter was on the brink of smiling now. “You can’t tell me there isn’t a spark of interest.”
Kate’s eyes widened. Indignantly she said, “A spark?”
“OK, not a spark. Maybe spark’s too strong a word. We’ll call it a flicker,” said Dexter. “There’s definitely been a flicker.”
The cheek of it. Well, maybe he did have sexy eyes, but she’d never shared this th
ought with another living soul.
“You’re mad.” Kate hadn’t realized her foot was jiggling again, but seeing as her shoe had just flown over the bar, it seemed likely that it had been. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve wondered what it would be like to kiss me,” said Dexter.
“I have not!”
“Yes, you have. You know you have. I’ve been completely honest with you,” he chided. “The least you can do is be honest with me.”
“You’ve been a bit too honest.” Touching the left side of her face again, Kate said, “You’re glad I’ve got these scars because now that I look like this, nobody else would want me? That’s sick.”
“It isn’t. I’m not looking at it that way. Before your accident, what kind of men did you go out with? Good-looking ones, am I right? You wouldn’t have considered anything less,” Dexter said seriously. “But less attractive men can have just as good personalities as film-star-handsome ones. Better personalities, in fact, because they have to make more of an effort. That’s all I’m saying,” he concluded. “Thanks to your accident, you have the opportunity to find that out for yourself. And you never know—in the long run, you may be glad you did.”
Kate wondered if he was deluded.
“But you don’t make more of an effort. You make no effort at all! And you certainly don’t have a great personality!”
There was a hint of a glint in Dexter’s eyes. “No? You still want to know what it’d be like to kiss me, though. Actually, that’s another part of me that’s not too bad. If I say so myself, I have quite a nice mouth.”
Kate looked at him. For several seconds she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Then she climbed down from her stool, made her way to Dexter’s side of the bar, and retrieved her flung-off shoe. Finally, having gathered together her blue jacket and handbag, she said stiffly, “I’m going home.”
Dexter hung his head. “OK.”
Wrenching open the front door, Kate stepped outside the pub and shuddered as the full force of the storm almost knocked her off her feet. The wind was so strong she had to lean into it, cartoon-style, in order not to be sent cartwheeling backward like tumbleweed.
She crossed Main Street, headed past the workshops, and made her way up Gypsy Lane, grimly ignoring the rain pelting every inch of her body, soaking through her clothes all the way to her underwear, and undoubtedly power-blasting the carefully applied makeup from her face.
Oh well, what did that matter now?
Reaching the entrance to Dauncey House, Kate paused and took the front door key from her waterlogged bag. She looked at it, sighed, then dropped the key back into the bag and turned around.
“Oh, bloody hell, not you again,” said Dexter.
But not in a bad way.
“You don’t scare me.” Kate moved across the flagstoned floor, trailing a small river in her wake. Blinking rain from her eyelashes, she came to stand directly in front of him.
“Don’t I? You scare the bejesus out of me,” said Dexter.
“Just one kiss,” Kate told him. “To see what it’s like.”
Dexter nodded seriously. “Absolutely. That’s it. Just one kiss.”
Chapter 47
Juliet listened to everything the consultant was telling her. When he’d finished, she burst into floods of tears.
“No need to cry, Miss Price. It’s good news.” The consultant was smiling broadly.
Oliver, relieved and delighted, enthusiastically shook the consultant’s hand. “Fantastic. Excellent news. We’re so grateful.” Glancing at Juliet’s tearstained face, he added in bafflement, “I’ll never understand women. Not as long as I live.”
“Sometimes,” the consultant said happily as Juliet flung her arms around him and kissed him on both cheeks, “I don’t mind not understanding them.”
“I can’t believe it.” Juliet sobbed, all the pent-up emotions of the last week exploding out of her like a burst dam. “I was so scared. I thought he was going to—to… Oh, thank you so much. You don’t know what this means to me…”
“No need to thank me,” the consultant assured her. “Tiff’s the one who did the hard work. Children have the most astonishing powers of recovery. You never give up hope. It couldn’t happen this fast with an adult, trust me. But these youngsters, one minute they’re so ill you can’t imagine they’ll survive, and hours later they can be sitting up in bed demanding pizza and a Game Boy.”
Juliet wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve. Tiff hadn’t reached the pizza and Game Boy stage yet, but he had regained consciousness and was still recognizably Tiff. The consultant, sweeping into the ICU, had informed them that the results of the latest blood test, lumbar puncture, and brain scan showed that Tiff was off the danger list. His body had escaped the devastation of rampant septicemia. He hadn’t sustained brain damage. It was the miracle Juliet hadn’t dared to hope for.
“Mum?”
Her face still wet with tears, Juliet swung around to find Tiff with his eyes open once more, huge and as dark as pansies against the pallor of his thin face.
“It’s OK, darling.” Lovingly she stroked his cheek. “I’m crying because I’m happy. You’ve been a bit poorly, but you’re getting better now.”
“Why’s he here?” Tiff’s gaze had settled on Oliver.
Juliet wavered. He had to be told now, that went without saying. But not right at this minute.
“He…um, came to see how you are, sweetheart. Everyone’s been asking after you.”
Uninterested, Tiff looked away from Oliver.
“Where’s Sophie and Jake?”
“They’re at home. Look, here are some of the cards Sophie made you.” Eagerly Juliet held them up. Making cards had been Sophie’s way of willing Tiff to recover. “How about this one, with a picture of Bean on the front and—”
“Jake was carrying me.” Tiff’s forehead creased with the effort of remembering. “Carrying and carrying me. Will he be here soon with Sophie?”
“As soon as you’re well enough for visitors.” Juliet gave his hand an encouraging squeeze.
“But they’re the ones I want to see.” Tiff’s dismissive glance over at Oliver was excruciating. Juliet winced on Oliver’s behalf.
“I know, sweetheart. We’ll have to ask the doctor. Sophie’s missed you too.”
Tiff’s eyelashes drooped with exhaustion. Still clutching Juliet’s hand, he closed his eyes and drifted off again.
Oliver approached the bed.
“Look at him.” Juliet felt her heart expand with love. “He’s going to be all right.” As a huge yawn overtook her she added, “I feel as if I could sleep for a month.”
“Right. Well, he’s out of danger now. On the mend.” Oliver glanced at his watch. “Why don’t you grab a rest while he’s out for the count? If you don’t need me anymore, I could shoot up to London. See what’s been going on while I’ve been away.”
Juliet nodded. Not allowed to have his cell phone switched on in the hospital, Oliver had been reduced to hurrying outside every couple of hours to check out the ever-increasing number of messages and deal with the most urgent to the best of his ability over the phone. After six days, he must be desperate to get back to work. It was completely understandable.
It was also, if she was honest, something of a relief.
“That’s fine.” Awkwardly, she offered her cheek up for the kiss Oliver seemed determined to plant there. “Well, thanks for…everything.”
“Ring me if you need to. I’ll be in touch tomorrow anyway.” Feeling horribly guilty, Juliet said, “Any word yet from Estelle?”
Oliver briefly shook his head. “No.”
“Will you try to find her?”
“It’s not my place to find Estelle, even if I could. I was the one who cheated on her. I let her down,” Oliver said wearily, “and she le
ft me.”
“For someone else who let her down.” Juliet felt terrible. She’d always really liked Estelle.
“I know.” Checking his watch again, Oliver jangled his car keys. “Double betrayal. OK, I’m going to make a move. Will you tell Tiff?”
“That you’ve gone up to London?”
Oliver gave her a measured look. “That I’m his father.”
“Oh, right.” Inwardly shrinking away from the prospect, Juliet nodded. “If you want me to.”
“It’s not a question of that. Everyone knows now. We don’t have any choice.” After a last look at Tiff, Oliver left.
While Tiff was asleep, Juliet phoned Jake from the call box in the corridor outside the ward. Less than twenty minutes later, the doors of the ICU swung open and Jake burst in. Still exhausted but too elated to sleep herself, Juliet hastily rubbed her hands over her face and stumbled to her feet. The next moment she was wrapped in a rib-crushing embrace. Jake smelled deliciously of wood shavings and varnish and was wearing paint-smeared jeans.
Fresh paint, she discovered, gazing down at the streak of lilac on the front of her skirt.
As if it mattered.
Jake was grinning too. “Sorry, I just couldn’t wait. I had to come straightaway. It’s the best news in the world.”
“I know.” Letting him go, her eyes filling with tears of joy all over again, Juliet watched him pull up a chair next to Tiff’s bed and gaze at the boy intently. Within seconds, as if by telepathy, Tiff’s eyes opened.
“Jake! You’re here!” Breaking into a broad smile of delight, he raised his thin arms a few inches from the bed. Careful not to dislodge the IV drips running into his arms, Jake gave him a hug. In return, Tiff’s left hand curled around Jake’s neck. The look on each of their faces said it all. Deeply moved, Juliet almost couldn’t bear to watch.
“I’m here,” said Jake, “and so are you. Now, Sophie’s desperate to see you, but when your mum asked the doctors, they said it wasn’t a good idea. Not for another day or so, at least. But all you need to do is carry on getting better, then they’ll move you to the children’s ward. Once you’re there, Sophie will be able to come see you as often as she wants.”