They all giggled.
“And Zak,” continued Cassie, “your timing was superb. I think Josh was moved by Tallulah’s act, but it took yours to clinch the deal.”
Zak frowned. “What act?” he asked.
Cassie looked at her little brother.
“Never mind,” she said. “We did it. That’s what’s important.”
When the doorbell rang at Jo’s parents’ front door, Jo was vacuuming the lounge while her father helped her mother walk upstairs.
“Get that, will you?” he shouted.
Jo made her way to the door and glanced absentmindedly at the hall mirror on her way. Amazing what a bit of difference good country air can do for you, she thought. Her skin was glowing.
She opened the door and found Sheila standing there with a self-consciously sad smile and an enormous bunch of red carnations.
“Shee!” cried Jo. “How nice! I didn’t expect you, come in—”
“I can’t stay for long,” said Sheila quietly.
“Is something wrong?”
Sheila shook her head, then looked at the floor. Nonplussed, Jo stepped back and opened the door.
“You’d better come in,” she said.
Very contritely, Sheila stepped over the Green family threshold, as if she hadn’t spent every weekend there during her teens, and handed Jo the flowers.
“Wow. Thank you, Shee. They’re gorgeous.”
Sheila stood coyly in the hall, eyes still down.
“Come into the kitchen,” said Jo.
“Thank you.”
Jo led her friend to the kitchen table.
“Tea? Coffee?” she asked.
“I’m fine thanks,” said Sheila.
“Didn’t ask how you were,” said Jo automatically. Sheila didn’t laugh. She didn’t even smile. Jo clicked the kettle off, left the flowers in the sink, and sat down at the kitchen table with Sheila.
“I’ve got some news,” said Sheila eventually.
“What’s happened?”
“I’m engaged.”
Jo’s eyes widened with surprised relief.
“That’s wonderful!” she cried.
“It’s going to be a June wedding,” said Sheila.
“Wow! That was quick.”
“Not really,” said Sheila. “When you know he’s the one, you know.”
“Do you?” sighed Jo. “You lucky thing.”
“Anyway,” said Sheila. “We’ve known each other for ages. Only as friends for years but…” she took a deep breath…“we had a couple of flings, but nothing serious. We were both with other people at the time.”
Jo nodded.
“But it became serious last month.”
“Great.”
“When you left.”
“Oh.”
“Because you left.”
Jo frowned at Sheila. “Oh dear,” she said. “Was I stopping you from something…?” And then ran out of things to say.
Sheila finally lifted her eyes and Jo was looking at the personification of pity.
“Don’t be upset, Jo,” whispered Sheila.
“Why would I be upset? I’m delighted for you.”
“We didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You haven’t! I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
Sheila sighed and tossed her hair back.
“Shaun…Casey…and I are getting married in June,” she said very slowly and clearly. “Shaun. Your Shaun. Well. Actually, my Shaun. Shaunie. He asked me as soon as he’d finished with you.”
Jo went cold.
“He didn’t finish with me,” she monotoned.
“Yes, he did, Jo,” said Sheila, her voice softening and her head tilting on every word. “You just didn’t notice.”
“He proposed to me again, Shee,” Jo said.
“Because he knew you’d say no.” Sheila’s apologetic tone was getting firmer. “I helped him make up his speech: ‘I’m not going to propose again. Except this one last time, blah blah blah.’ Sound familiar?”
Jo lost feeling in her face.
“I was the one who decided which restaurant he should take you to,” continued Sheila softly.
“But that was where we had our first date,” whispered Jo.
Sheila nodded. “I know,” she said. “I thought that might be more romantic.”
Jo could hear blood pumping through her ears. “What do you mean you had a couple of flings?” she managed.
“Oh nothing serious,” said Sheila. “You know, under the mistletoe, the odd party here and there—”
Jo held her hand over her mouth.
“Oh God, sorry, Jo. I didn’t think you’d care this much. To be honest I thought you’d be relieved he was so happy. It would be awful if he was heartbroken, wouldn’t it? Our Shaunie?”
Jo tried to nod. Her mind couldn’t keep up with the altered reality being offered to her. It was so surreal.
“Shaunie wasn’t convinced though,” continued Sheila. “He said we shouldn’t tell you for a while, but I said we had no choice. The invitations are going out next week. I didn’t think it would be fair for you to be the last to know.”
“He proposed four times, Shee,” whispered Jo, wiping tears off her chin.
“I know,” said Sheila, “I was furious.”
Jo frowned a question.
“Well of course!” said Sheila. “There he was getting off with me at every opportunity while pretending to be serious with you. It was shocking behavior.” She gave a little laugh. “I’m really very cross with him.”
“I thought you said the odd party?”
“Well.” Sheila shrugged. “There were a lot of parties. And a lot of mistletoe. It was six years.”
“But why? Why not just finish with me?”
“Well I think he got rather attached to you really. I mean, you’re very nice. And of course, it did his male ego no end of good. I remember telling him once that for all we knew you and James were two-timing us at the same time.” She smiled. “We had a bit of a laugh at that.”
“Two-timing? I thought you said it was just the odd fling?”
“Oh, whatever. The point is—”
“Does James know about this?”
“Oh yes,” said Sheila easily. “He’s always known. In fact, I was with Shaun before him. How do you think I met James? Actually, I thought you might have guessed from that; you know, thought it was too much of a coincidence. Anyway, James was more than happy with the arrangement. He wanted a girlfriend who was never going to push him into any commitment. In fact, he’s going to be our best man.” She sighed. “D’you know? I think I would like that cup of tea, now I think about it.”
“But you hated Shaun!”
“Oh, that was his idea.” Sheila yawned. She finished her yawn. “Oh, excuse me! Bit of a late night last night. Yes, we had to pretend we both hated each other so you wouldn’t catch on.”
“But he really hated you!”
“Well,” Sheila stiffened. “Actually…I suppose I might as well tell you. I wasn’t going to, but it might explain things a bit better: he’d already got off with me at Melanie Blacksmith’s party and Philippa Fuller’s party and Matt Wright’s party that summer you were away in Norfolk with your folks—gosh, nearly seven years ago now. It was before he even met you.”
“He met me at kindergarten.”
“You know what I mean. Once he found out we were friends—”
“Best friends—”
“Yeah, he asked a lot about you. Said you were his first ever crush at school and it was every man’s dream to actually…well, you know…I think the word he used was ‘screw’ the first girl you ever fancied. That was when I knew he was going to make a play for you. And, then because you’re so…well, because you’re so…” She stopped short. “Hmmm…how shall I put this?”
Sheila paused, trying to find the best way to put it.
“Tactlessly?” suggested Jo.
Sheila skipped a beat before contin
uing. “I suppose straitlaced is a nice way to put it, he had to date you—for a considerable while, as I recall—to screw you, and before he knew it, he was dating one of his most bullish employee’s daughters, the whole neighborhood knew, blah blah blah. And so.” She shrugged helplessly. “Right from the start, we had to pretend. It’s such a relief to be honest after all this time, I can’t tell you.”
Jo tried to speak, but her body sank onto the kitchen table and spoke for her. Sheila got up and came and put her hand on Jo’s shoulder, but Jo jerked away. Sheila stood for a moment.
“I understand,” she soothed. “I really do.”
“Paper towel,” sniffed Jo into her sleeve.
Sheila rushed to the roll and tore some off for Jo. Jo blew her nose and, surprisingly, felt a little better.
“I’d better go,” said Sheila.
Jo blew again. “You think?” she said.
“I’m sorry, Jo.”
“Yeah, right.”
Sheila turned to go. As she reached the kitchen door, Jo called her name. Sheila turned slowly round.
“Yes?”
They looked at each other for a while.
“When did you stop liking me?” Jo asked.
Sheila looked impatient. “This isn’t about you,” she said. “It’s not even about you and me. It’s about me and Shaunie. You just happened to be in the cross fire. No one meant to hurt you.”
Jo looked at the paper towel in her hand.
“When did you stop liking me?” she repeated.
After a pause, Sheila just shrugged.
Jo nodded, exhausted.
“We’re going to have Shaunie’s nieces as bridesmaids,” said Sheila quietly. “I know we always said we’d be each other’s—”
“Just go.”
Jo managed a wry laugh at Sheila’s nerve, which, once the front door clicked shut, turned into a choked sob.
Meanwhile, Josh had stopped at the traffic lights on Niblet-upon-Avon High Street and was staring, baffled, at a map. Unfortunately, the map was upside down and the lights were green. He turned the map the right way up. Nope. No clearer. It had obviously been drawn by people who wanted Niblet-upon-Avon to stay unspoiled by tourists. He looked up from it and found himself gazing at green lights. With a jump, he glanced in his rearview mirror and saw a man in a hat at the wheel of the car behind. The man waved. Bemused, Josh drove on. It was like a different country. Then he pulled into a side road and took out his mobile phone.
Jo was hunched over the kitchen table, head buried in her arms. Every time she thought she was feeling better, a stab of fury, humiliation, and pain hit her again, and she heard a strangled sound that seemed to emanate from deep within her. When her mobile phone rang, she supported her head in her hands. When it occurred to her that it might be Shaun, she picked it up.
“Hello?” she said, her voice thick with tears.
“Bloody hell,” said Pippa. “You sound awful.”
“That’s nothing.” Jo started sobbing again. “You should see how I look.”
“What the hell’s happened?”
“Shaun was two-timing me!” wept Jo.
“What?”
“With Sheila.”
“Oh my God,” breathed Pippa through Jo’s crying. “Do you want me to come and see you?”
Jo nodded into the phone. “No thanks,” she sniffed. “I don’t think I could take seeing anyone right now. I-I can’t take it all in.”
“Would you like Nick to come and beat Shaun to a pulp?”
“No.” Jo managed a smile. “Maybe he could mess Sheila’s face up a bit though.”
“Yeah.”
Jo wept some more. “They’ve made such a fool of me.”
“No they haven’t,” said Pippa. “They’ve made fools of themselves.”
“They’re getting married!”
“Hah!” cried Pippa. “More fool her! Can you imagine marrying someone who was dating your best friend all the way through your courtship? With your knowledge? Can you imagine what sort of marriage that’s going to be?”
Jo stopped crying for the first time since Sheila’s revelation.
“Believe me,” said Pippa. “You are best out of it. He was bad news.”
“I thought he loved me,” said Jo pathetically.
“I know, hon. There’ll be others. Much better than him. There’s already two in the wings.”
Even though that didn’t feel strictly true, what with one of the men in the wings being a freak stalker and the other a hypocritical scrounging bastard who was only interested in a shag, the thought did somehow made Jo feel better.
She wished she could get to see Pippa, but neither of them could afford the time off. So Jo made do with the phone call. When it was over, she washed her face at the kitchen sink and decided to go for a walk.
Josh put down his mobile. The local station had been very useful. He was practically on top of Jo’s house. He started the engine, turned the car round, went through some red lights, and headed toward her.
By the time the doorbell went for the second time that day, Jo’s skin wasn’t glowing quite as much as it had been earlier. In fact, as any beautician worth her salt will tell you, if you want your skin to look good for a special occasion, it’s advisable not to spend the entire hour beforehand weeping.
Her body jerked in shock at the sound of the bell. It must be Shaun.
She padded quickly to the door, roll of paper towels under her arm, the used one in her hand, slippers flip-flopping against the carpet.
She opened the door wide. She looked up at a tall dark stranger who made her heart squeeze. She stopped. Her eyes took in lots of information that her brain then vomited back out. She blinked and tried again.
There was a Jehovah’s Witness at her door—one of those incredibly smooth, good-looking chaps who have a strange light in their eye called Jesus. No, silly. She was dreaming and this was God.
When God said, “Jesus F. Christ, you look like shit,” she realized it wasn’t God. And then she realized it was Josh.
Josh certainly hadn’t intended to wrap Jo in a prolonged, full-bodied bear hug. He’d had a long enough journey to get his greeting planned just right, and nowhere in it was there a prolonged, full-bodied bear hug. In fact he didn’t really know where it had come from. But he’d done it, and she was sobbing into his sweater, and he was stroking her hair, and he felt like he didn’t want to do much else in the world, so it was probably all for the best. Maybe her mother had had another relapse. Poor lamb. God, life can be cruel. Some people get all the short straws, he thought, looking at her hall.
When he spotted a barrel-chested man standing on the stairs staring at him with all the warmth of a raging bull he almost jumped out of his skin. He released Jo and stood her at a safe distance.
“H-hello,” he said to the man on the stairs.
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Who the hell are you?” he whispered, “and what have you done to my daughter?”
“Dad, this is Josh,” sniffed Jo.
“Josh?” queried the man with such confused disgust in his voice that Josh suddenly became aware of how odd his name was. “What sort of a name is that? And who’s ‘Josh’ when he’s at home? And why are you crying?”
Josh stood stiffly. “I didn’t make her cry, I-I-found—”
“Was I talking to you?”
Josh shook his head.
Bill looked at Jo.
Jo started trying to speak. Then she realized she didn’t know where to start. Then she realized she and her father weren’t talking anyway. Then she realized Josh had come all the way from London to see her. Then she realized she must look like a blowfish. She ran blindly into the kitchen.
The kitchen door slammed shut and Jo’s father turned slowly to face Josh. Josh’s mouth formed itself into something approaching a smile while his stomach formed itself into something approaching an ulcer.
“I’m Joshua Fitzgerald,” he said in a small voice, holding out his hand. �
��It’s an honor to meet you.”
The man grunted and continued to stare. Josh’s throat contracted. He moved his hand down to his side.
“I like your hall,” he croaked, his mouth dry.
The two men stood looking at each other in silence for what felt to Josh like the better part of a year. A bad year. Droughts, diseases, famine, that sort of thing. He had the strongest sensation that if Jo’s father had had antlers, they’d be piercing his groin by now. He was about to say that he’d pop back later, now was obviously not a good time but it had been a delight to meet Jo’s family and what a very lovely hall, when Jo appeared. She was clearly still upset about something, but she invited Josh into the lounge, instructed her father to be nice unless he wanted her to leave home that night, then walked stiffly upstairs where she would, she explained to them both “attempt to rectify my face.”
Josh waited in the lounge and stared at everything, trying his best not to stare at the commode. He could hear muted voices at the top of the stairs, which he assumed must be Jo’s parents because the higher one was speaking much more slowly than the lower. When the door opened, he stood up. Jo’s father grunted at him again, and he smiled gratefully.
“Nice horses,” he said, nodding to the ornaments. “And foxes. And cats. And the otters are sweet. And the commemorative plate. What a tragic waste, eh?”
“The wife likes them,” said Bill. “Bugger to dust.”
“Oh, I bet.” Josh nodded, as though dusting had always been a major consideration in his life.
Then Hilda appeared next to her husband, holding on to the door. Josh stepped forward and shook her hand ever so gently.
“Mrs. Green,” he said, “Joshua Fitzgerald. So pleased to meet you.”
She smiled at him, and he saw the same eyes as Jo’s, although Hilda’s were a paler blue as though exhaustion had washed them out. He felt inclined to give her a bear hug, too, but reined himself in.
“She’s just coming,” said Hilda slowly.
“Thank you.”
“Please,” murmured Hilda. “Sit…” He sat obediently. “Down.” He cringed inwardly.
The next instant, Jo appeared, and he bounced up again.
The Nanny Page 31