by Jill Mansell
The chicken was salty, with a bizarre under-taste of stale digestive biscuits. The fondant potatoes were undercooked. The buttered carrots were nice. As Belle finally got her breathing back under control, Sam said, ‘This is great. These carrots are fantastic.’
‘They are.’ Ronan nodded eagerly. ‘They’re brilliant.’
‘Seriously,’ Clemency joined in, ‘I think these are the best carrots I’ve ever tasted.’
Belle narrowed her eyes at her. ‘Now you’re just being sarcastic.’
‘I’m not.’ Wounded, Clemency put down her fork. ‘I said it because they’re nice.’
‘I’ve spent hours preparing this meal. The least you could do is be polite.’
‘It’s a fantastic meal,’ said Ronan, but Belle was still agitated.
‘No it isn’t. There’s too much salt in the chicken. Oh God, what’s that?’ she wailed, spotting Sam’s attempt to hide something under half a potato.
‘Nothing,’ Sam said firmly, but Belle had already leant across to find out for herself.
‘It’s just a teabag,’ Ronan said helpfully. ‘It’s fine. Who doesn’t love tea?’
‘It’s a herb bag.’ For a moment Belle looked as if she might burst into tears. ‘I looked for it earlier in the pan of stock and couldn’t find it anywhere, then made the sauce and forgot to fish it out.’ Frazzled, she snatched it off the plate and marched out to the kitchen.
Ronan murmured, ‘Oh God, is she going to cry?’
‘No, I am not going to cry.’ Returning to her seat, Belle picked up her knife and fork. ‘I’d just like us to have a nice civilised dinner party,’ she said in a brittle voice. ‘It can’t be that hard, can it?’
Which, seeing as Sam was currently attempting to cut into an undercooked potato without it skidding off his plate, caused Clemency to struggle with keeping a straight face. When he glanced up and caught her eye, clearly thinking the same, she said hastily, ‘I was just thinking, isn’t Belle looking fantastic?’
Because when in doubt and you have a vain sister in need of calming down, shower her with compliments.
‘It’s new.’ Joining in, Sam indicated the cobalt-blue dress splashed with cream roses. ‘I think it’s great.’
‘I ordered it online,’ said Belle, ‘and the colour wasn’t quite what I expected. But it had to do, seeing as I didn’t have anything else to wear.’
Belle had a hundred other things to wear; more than half the wardrobes in the flat were crammed with her clothes, but for the sake of her sister’s precious dinner party, Clemency didn’t point this out. Instead, she carried on with the flattery. ‘It’s not just the dress, though, is it? You’re looking incredible. This new exercise regime is really paying off!’
Belle regarded her with suspicion. ‘Are you doing it again?’
Oh for God’s sake. ‘It’s the truth! I’m trying to pay you a compliment. The running has really toned you up.’ She turned to Ronan and said, ‘Don’t you think?’
‘I do.’ Ronan nodded in agreement. ‘In fact, you two should go running together. Isn’t it more fun that way?’
Clemency opened her mouth to speak, but Belle got in first.
‘I already run with Verity.’
Ronan shrugged. ‘So? Can’t the three of you go together?’
‘I did suggest it,’ said Clemency. ‘But—’
‘We run faster than she does,’ Belle interrupted. ‘She’d just hold us back. The trouble with Clemency is, she eats too much junk, then wonders why she can’t fit into size ten jeans. Well it’s true.’ She raised her eyebrows at Clemency. ‘You need to cut out the rubbish and start taking a bit more care of yourself. Give the carbs a rest. I’m only saying it for your own good.’
OK, this was Belle at her bitchy best. And after she’d made such an effort to be nice to her too. Clemency considered the options: either respond by saying that if she was going to cut out the rubbish she’d start with this diabolical meal, or be completely saintly and rise above it. The former might result in Belle-in-a-strop tipping dinner over her head. And as for the latter option … well, she just wasn’t saintly enough for that.
Although maybe she could manage to rise above it if she allowed herself just one teeny dig along the way.
Well, she was only human.
‘You’re absolutely right. I do eat too much and I don’t exercise enough. No one to blame but myself. I’m a hideous mess.’ Clemency broke into a grin to show she’d taken the criticism in good part. ‘On the upside, I can treat myself to chocolate whenever I want. Anyway,’ she turned her attention to Sam, ‘it’s all thanks to you that Belle’s got into this whole fitness thing. She never used to do it before.’
Sam looked amused. ‘I gathered that. But why is it thanks to me?’
‘Oh, you know.’ Clemency speared a piece of chicken with her fork. ‘When you really like your new boyfriend and you’re desperate to impress him.’
‘OK, not true.’ Belle rolled her eyes. ‘I’m doing it because it’s something I want to do. For myself.’
‘Except you forget how long I’ve known you,’ said Clemency. ‘You can say that if you want, but we both know better. Taking up new hobbies to impress boyfriends is par for the course. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing,’ she added with a cheery shrug. ‘It’s just the way you’ve always been. It’s what you’re like.’
Ronan grinned. ‘Maybe I should impress Clem by taking up shark-wrestling.’
But while Clemency and Sam were laughing, she caught Belle giving her a long, cool stare.
‘What do you think?’ Ronan placed his arm around Clemency’s shoulders and gave her an affectionate squeeze. ‘Should I do it? Will that make you love me more?’
He was doing it for her benefit. This was why they’d come up with this plan in the first place: to make life easier for her because Belle had a boyfriend and she didn’t. Responding with a playful wiggle, Clemency said flirtatiously, ‘How could it? You’re already perfect.’
Which was a bit ewww. OK, quite a lot ewww.
But Ronan, entering into the spirit, blew her an affectionate kiss and said, ‘Not as perfect as you.’
At this point, Belle made a quiet hissing noise like a tiny kettle coming to the boil. Her eyes, fixed on Clemency, were laser-bright. ‘And you believe that, do you?’
Still smiling, Clemency shrugged. ‘If Ronan says I’m perfect, I’m not going to argue with him, am I? It’s fine by me.’
‘The thing is, you’ve been single for a while, and now you’ve finally got yourself a boyfriend. But that’s no reason to be gullible,’ said Belle. ‘Just because he says it doesn’t mean it’s what he thinks.’
‘It is, though,’ Ronan protested, laughing. ‘It’s exactly what I think.’
Belle sat back. ‘In that case, why did he try to kiss me the other week?’ She turned to look at Clemency as she spoke, her tone triumphant.
Ah.
Oh dear. Too late, Clemency realised they’d gone too far. Belle, in her tense and stressed-out state, had taken offence to her minor jibe and retaliated with a far more ruthless one of her own.
At least, it was ruthless as far as she was concerned.
Ronan said, ‘I didn’t try to kiss you.’
‘You see? I knew you’d deny it. Yes you did!’
Oh God, though. How was Sam feeling about this? Would it make him furious? Was he likely to challenge Ronan? Did he already know about it? Clemency glanced across the table and saw that Sam wasn’t angry. Which was good.
Then again, there was a hint of pity in his dark eyes, which was less so.
Damn, talk about complicated.
Belle pointed an accusing finger at Ronan. ‘You gave me a lift home that evening after we’d had dinner at the Mermaid. You said your feelings towards me had changed and all you wanted to do was kiss me.’
‘I told you I wanted to kiss you,’ Ronan reminded her. ‘I also told you I wouldn’t. Sorry,’ he shook his head at Sam, ‘I shouldn’t have said it.
On the upside, Belle told me to get lost.’
‘Well,’ Sam said steadily, ‘that’s good to know.’
‘So there you go, that’s how much your boyfriend really loves you.’ Having made her point, Belle took a sip of her wine and raised her eyebrows in faux-sympathy at Clemency. ‘That’s the kind of thing he gets up to behind your back. Oh dear, you must be feeling a bit stupid now, after all that showing off about the two of you being so happy together. Looks like your bad-boy leopard hasn’t changed his spots after all.’
OK, enough was enough.
‘Well thanks,’ said Clemency.
Belle beamed. ‘My pleasure. I wonder what else he’s been getting up to behind your back? I mean, I had the decency to turn him down, but I bet there are others who haven’t.’ She tossed a serves-you-right look in Ronan’s direction, then turned back to Clemency. ‘Oh well, now you know what he’s like. Better luck next time!’
What was Sam thinking right now? He knew they argued, but hadn’t witnessed one of their full-blown spats before. Having swiftly run through the options currently available to her, Clemency said, ‘Except you only told me to upset me, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not upset. Because I already knew. Because I was the one who asked Ronan to do it.’
That got their attention. Belle said, ‘What are you even talking about?’
‘You always liked Ronan. Now I’m seeing him. I wondered if our pact still meant something to you.’ Clemency sat back on her chair. ‘So I decided to put it to the test. It was my idea for Ronan to say what he did. And good for you,’ she added. ‘You passed with flying colours. I was impressed.’
Ronan, whose idea the test had been – albeit purely for curiosity’s sake – nodded in agreement.
Clemency glanced at Sam, whose expression was absolutely unreadable. Only he knew why she might have been so keen to find out how Belle would react.
Belle gave Clemency a pitying look. ‘Oh bless, of course I believe you asked your boyfriend to make a move on me. You just keep telling yourself that.’
Chapter 30
‘You’re back again? I don’t believe it!’ Josephine did a delighted double-take when she opened the front door and saw Ronan on the doorstep. ‘What’s this about then? Are you on the scrounge for more food?’ She hugged him, then stepped back and searched his face. ‘Is everything all right? Are you OK?’
‘Mum, don’t worry, everything’s great.’ As Ronan followed her into the kitchen, his heart began to thud. Yesterday evening, having driven over here to tell her about Marina, he’d found his mum hosting an impromptu supper party for half a dozen members of her book group. Forced to pretend he’d only been passing by, he’d allowed Josephine to give him containers of curried goat and sweet potato stew, then driven home to St Carys with the story untold.
Now he was back and his mum was on her own. This time it was going to happen. All the way over in the car he’d been practising how to tell her.
‘Oh, I know what it is!’ Her eyes lit up. ‘You’ve met someone! Am I right? Have you met a girl?’
‘OK, the thing is, I have kind of met someone, but—’
‘Oh my goodness! Is it Clem?’ Josephine clapped a hand to her chest. ‘Is it? Has all this pretend stuff made you realise you really do like each other after all? You know, I did wonder if it would!’
‘Mum, stop. It’s not Clem. It’s not any kind of girlfriend.’ Shit, all his careful pre-planning had gone out of the window and now he’d lost the thread of how he’d meant to say it. He shook his head and pulled out the stool next to the kitchen table. ‘Look, maybe you should sit down …’
This time he saw the realisation dawn in his mother’s eyes. She swallowed and stared at him intently, and Ronan knew that she knew.
‘Oh darling, that’s why you came and went yesterday. You’ve been plucking up the courage to tell me. It’s OK … really, I promise you it’s OK, it isn’t going to change anything.’ Her voice breaking with emotion, Josephine threw her arms around him. ‘Why would it change anything? You’re still you, and I’m never going to stop loving you!’
The relief was overwhelming. Everything was going to be all right. Exhaling, Ronan hugged her back. ‘I thought it was going to be more difficult than this. I was so worried you’d be upset.’
‘No, no, of course I’m not upset! It’s fine, it’s fine. As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters. Wait till Sheila hears about this. She was the one who thought it could be on the cards. You know, I didn’t believe her at first, but she talked me through it, helped me realise it made sense.’
Sheila, one of his mother’s oldest friends, lived two streets away, worked as a school secretary and was never happier than when she was solving other people’s problems. Ronan felt a rush of affection towards her for having listened to his mum’s concerns and reassured her, thus solving his own problem so beautifully.
‘I always did like Sheila.’ He smiled as he said it.
Josephine stroked his cheek. ‘And Sheila will be delighted. She told me it’s a special talent of hers. A gift, if you like. Apparently she can always tell.’
OK, this wasn’t making a lot of sense. He’d only just found out about Marina, and he hadn’t set eyes on Sheila since Christmas.
‘Tell what?’ he said, but Josephine was already chattering on.
‘And credit where it’s due, she spotted it in that burly Welsh rugby chap years ago, ages before he came out … in fact I think Sheila cottoned on to him before the fellow even knew it himself!’
Ronan held up his hand. ‘Mum.’
‘What?’
‘Mum, I’m not gay.’
‘What?’ Josephine’s eyes widened.
‘Why did Sheila think I was gay?’
‘Because you go out with so many girls and then finish with them. And now you have this whole pretendy thing going on with Clem. There’s a word for that, did you know? She’s your beard!’ Josephine paused and looked baffled. ‘Are you sure you’re not gay?’
‘I’d tell you if I was, I promise.’ The urge to laugh at the misunderstanding was tempered by the realisation that the evening’s big confession still lay ahead. Playing for time, Ronan said, ‘Is that the only reason Sheila thought it? Because my relationships never last?’
‘And because you’re so good-looking. That was something else she said was a dead giveaway. And you iron your own shirts. You always wear nice clothes, like a model in a magazine.’ His mother shrugged. ‘Once she told me, it all made sense.’
‘Well, tell Sheila thanks for the compliments. But I’m straight.’
‘So who’s this person you’ve met, then? Oh.’ And this time Josephine took an involuntary step backwards as the terrifying possibility she’d always dreaded finally occurred to her. ‘Oh no …’
‘It’s all right, I promise,’ said Ronan, because she was visibly shaking now.
‘You promised me before.’ The tremor was there in her voice, along with a world of pain. ‘You promised you wouldn’t find her.’
‘Mum, I didn’t find her. She found me. And everything’s OK, I swear to you. It’s all fine.’ He rested his hands on her narrow shoulders and gazed into her eyes. ‘Listen to me. You’re my mum and I love you more than anything in the world …’
‘How could she find you? She isn’t allowed to find you!’
‘I know, but she was ill. She had cancer and thought she might die. A private detective helped her. It was wrong, and illegal, but she was desperate. That was five years ago,’ Ronan continued. ‘She found me, but she didn’t tell me who she was. Because she didn’t want to upset me … or you, Mum.’
Tears were sliding down Josephine’s cheeks.
‘Except she did tell you. Because how else would you have found out?’
‘Mum, you don’t have to be upset. This is a good thing to have happened. I didn’t know she was my biological mother but I already knew and liked her. She’s a lovely person, you’ll like her too. We’ve talked abo
ut what happened … why it happened … I’ve asked all the questions I wanted to ask. And there’s no need to worry, because you’re still my mum. You’ll always be my mum.’
Josephine wiped her eyes. She looked fractionally reassured. ‘When did you find out?’
‘Recently. Two weeks ago. She had another cancer scare, but it’s OK. The all-clear came through on Monday. And she wasn’t the one who told me she was my mother,’ Ronan explained. ‘Clem put two and two together.’
‘Clem did? How?’
‘When I was swimming in the sea and got knocked out by that jet ski? Remember I told you Marina jumped in and held my face out of the water?’ He paused. ‘Marina’s my biological mother.’
‘Marina the artist? The one who paints on the quayside? That Marina?’
Ronan nodded.
‘I bought some Christmas cards from her in the café last December. The snowy scenes of St Carys. Everyone loved them.’ Josephine nodded slowly, remembering and assimilating this information. ‘She was really nice.’
Ronan said gently, ‘She still is.’
It was four o’clock in the afternoon. Sitting at her usual table in the café, Marina couldn’t stop checking her watch and counting down the minutes. Yesterday Ronan had visited Josephine and told her everything. Today, at six o’clock, Josephine would be arriving in St Carys. And there was nothing to worry about, because she’d taken the news well. Everything was going to be absolutely fine. In fact it couldn’t have gone better, according to Ronan. He’d said— Oh God …
Marina jumped, her right hand knocked over the jar in which her brushes were soaking, and a wave of sludge-coloured water landed in her lap. But she barely noticed, because that was definitely Josephine over there in the distance, making her way along the quayside towards her.
‘Butterfingers,’ Paddy chided, grinning as he appeared with a towel to mop up the worst of the damage.
‘Sorry,’ said Marina.
‘No need to apologise. You’re the one looking like you’ve wet yourself.’