It Started with a Secret: The feel-good novel of the year, from the bestselling author of MAYBE THIS TIME

by Jill Mansell

  Majella was in her mid forties, with green eyes and an engaging smile. Her blonde hair had been ruffled by the sea breeze, she was wearing fuchsia-pink lipstick, and her billowy white shirt had come untucked from her pink and white striped trousers, possibly because the trouser button was missing. They sat opposite her at the cluttered scrubbed oak kitchen table with mugs of tea and answered her questions about their references and previous jobs. Apart from the small fib about them being a couple, everything else was above board.

  Afterwards, Majella took them across the gravelled driveway to the little flat above the garage.

  ‘The bedroom’s not huge, but it’s a nice comfy bed,’ she promised. ‘And look, you can just about see the sea from the window!’

  ‘It’s perfect.’ Lainey nodded; the grey sofa wasn’t massive, but they could take it in turns to sleep on it.

  Majella beamed. ‘And how long have you two been together?’

  ‘A year. We aren’t married,’ Kit explained. ‘I hope that’s OK. I mean, we can arrange it if you really want us to.’

  Lainey looked suitably enthusiastic; well, it was good of him to offer.

  ‘Of course it’s OK,’ Majella assured them. ‘No problem at all! Now, let’s get back to the house so you can meet everyone. Violet and Harry should be home from school soon, and Seth’s around somewhere . . .’

  In the kitchen once more, she filled them in on the rest of the family.

  ‘Like I said in the advert, I’m afraid we aren’t the most organised. Well, I’m sure you’ve already noticed. Up until a month ago we had Maisie living with us, but she’s had to move to Coventry to look after her grandchildren. And to be honest, it was an awful lot of work for one person, so that’s why we’ve decided to go for a couple.’ With her elbows on the kitchen table, she began counting on her fingers. ‘Now let me tell you who’s here. There’s me, for a start. My husband Tony died five years ago, so I’m battling on without him, but clearly I need a couple of pairs of helping hands. Then we have the girls, Violet and India, who are seventeen—’

  ‘Twins?’ asked Lainey.

  ‘Yes, but not identical. In fact they couldn’t be less identical if they tried. And then there’s Harry, who’s eleven and a complete boy, sports mad and eats more than his own body weight in food every day. Next there’s my father-in-law . . . well, it’s actually his house . . . and when he’s away travelling around the country he’ll need someone to drive him and generally keep him in check.’ She paused, glancing at them both. ‘Just so you know, he’s quite a character. Then there’s Ernie and Glenda, obviously, and we also have two cats – Radley and Peanut, which are the kind of names you end up with when you’re daft enough to let a pair of seven-year-olds decide what to call their new kittens. And finally there’s Seth, who’s my husband’s son from a previous relationship. He splits his time between here and Bristol. But he’s around more often than not, and I work for him too in his travel business. And that’s us!’ She sat back and gestured around the room. ‘We’re a happy household . . . well, most of the time, when the girls aren’t having one of their epic fall-outs! But those never last long . . . Ah, here’s Violet and Harry now.’

  The two of them had just arrived home from school. Sports kit was thrown into a corner of the kitchen and Harry set about making himself a mountain of lopsided sandwiches stuffed with cheese, crisps and ketchup. Introduced to Lainey and Kit, he greeted them cheerfully and asked if they played football, then glugged down a pint of chocolate milk. He was skinny and blonde, with an impish grin and cheeks so freckled they looked painted on.

  Violet dumped her school bag on one end of the table and pulled out an assortment of textbooks followed by an extremely flattened packed lunch.

  ‘Don’t you want that?’ Harry spoke through a mouthful of sandwich. ‘I’ll have it.’

  ‘I was too busy writing an essay in my lunch break.’ Violet whisked the squashed items out of reach. ‘I’m eating them now, gannet.’

  ‘If you’re eating them now, that makes you the gannet.’ Playfully he grabbed a hairband that had fallen out of his sister’s bag and pinged it at her head.

  ‘And if you’re a pain in the neck,’ Violet retorted, ‘no one’s going to want to come and work here.’ She shook her head at Lainey and Kit. ‘Boys, they’re just a total nightmare.’

  ‘Apart from me,’ said Kit. ‘I’m not a nightmare at all.’

  ‘I like boys.’ India arrived downstairs with her head no longer swathed in a towel. ‘Apart from my little brother.’ She struck a ta-daaah pose and waited for everyone to admire the transformation. ‘Well, what do we think? Fabulous or what?’

  Lainey grinned. ‘Your mum did say the two of you were the opposite of identical.’

  ‘Trust me, if I was identical to Violet, I’d chuck myself off the nearest cliff. Mum, d’you like it?’ India swished her hair from side to side like a shampoo ad.

  ‘If I was identical to India, I’d move to Australia,’ said Violet. ‘And get a face transplant.’

  Harry swallowed a mouthful of crisps. ‘You look like a parrot,’ he told India.

  Lainey said, ‘Honestly, I think it looks fantastic.’

  Only half under her breath, Violet squawked, ‘Who’s got purple hair? India’s got purple hair, kwaaaaarrckk!’

  ‘At least I’m not sad enough never to have dyed it. She’s the thin, dreary one,’ India explained to Kit and Lainey. ‘Whereas I’m curvy and spectacular.’

  Lainey studied the two of them. Violet’s hair was straight, collar length and natural blonde. She was wearing her navy school uniform and no make-up, and her only jewellery was a tattered grey friendship bracelet around her left wrist. She was small and serious looking, her fair eyebrows unplucked, her fingernails bare.

  And then there was India, whose generous curves were poured into an emerald-green Lycra dress that hugged every inch of her body and contrasted spectacularly with the Cadbury’s purple hair. Her darkened eyebrows were immaculately shaped, her make-up a riot of peacock-blue eyeshadow, iridescent highlighter and crimson lipstick.

  ‘Next year I’ll pass my A levels,’ said Violet. ‘And you won’t.’

  ‘That’s because I don’t need to pass them. Some of us have our dazzling personalities to get us through life.’

  ‘Fine, just don’t come whining to me ten years from now, when you can’t afford another stick of mascara.’

  With a splutter of laughter, India came up behind her sister and gave her an extravagant hug. ‘And that’s why I love you so much. Who else could call a tube of mascara a stick?’

  ‘Get off me,’ Violet grumbled, but she was smiling too. ‘You’re such a weirdo.’

  ‘They do love each other really,’ Majella assured Lainey and Kit. ‘If anyone else dares to criticise either of them, the other one piles in like a tank.’

  ‘Have you had many other applicants?’ Kit asked.

  ‘Four other couples so far. Well, three,’ Majella amended.

  ‘The first couple were sooo boring.’ India mimed a yawn. ‘The second ones were plain weird. The third thought we were a bit weird. And Seth messaged the fourth couple and told them not to turn up.’ She smiled brightly, shrugged. ‘And that’s all of them up to date.’

  ‘Good one.’ Violet rolled her eyes. ‘Now these two are going to be wondering how we’ll be describing them as soon as they’ve left.’

  ‘I can juggle,’ Kit offered. ‘And ride a unicycle, if that’s any help.’ He paused to think. ‘Does that make me boring or weird?’

  ‘I don’t suppose I’m allowed to ask,’ said Lainey, ‘but I’m dying to know why the fourth couple got cancelled.’

  A figure appeared in the kitchen doorway and a clipped male voice said, ‘When I checked them out online, they hadn’t done a good enough job of covering their tracks.’

  Chapter 5

  Lainey’s heart did a panicky double thud of alarm, because this had to be Seth and what was he actually saying here? Did this me
an he’d checked her and Kit out online and discovered they weren’t a couple? She’d made her own social media accounts private and told Kit to do the same, but maybe he’d forgotten. Had Seth discovered the lovingly curated photos of Kit’s Hollywood dream list, currently featuring a top three of Chris Hemsworth, Ryan Reynolds and Zac Efron?

  Well, a boy could dream.

  And if this were the case, he was probably here now to order them out of the house.

  Then he stepped out of the shadows and into the kitchen, and Lainey’s breath caught in her throat, because this was Majella’s stepson, and now she recognised him. He was the one she’d watched earlier determinedly ignoring the woman who’d been pleading with him down by the harbour. Early thirties, dark brown eyes, black hair slicked back, and frankly intimidating carved cheekbones teamed with a straight, strong nose and chiselled jaw; it was definitely him.

  ‘Well, this is Seth,’ said Majella. ‘As you’ve probably guessed! Seth, this is Lainey and Kit.’

  He shook their hands in turn, his gaze cool and appraising. Lainey swallowed, because it was as if he were committing every last detail of her face to memory, and a mixture of this and liar’s guilt was making her palms slick.

  But he either knew or didn’t know the truth, and since they no longer had anything to lose, she said cheerfully, ‘What did you find out about them? Were they drug dealers? Bank robbers on the run?’

  ‘Let’s just say they weren’t altogether truthful about themselves.’ He moved aside as Harry and the dogs raced past them out of the kitchen. ‘And if we’re going to have people living and working here, honesty is important. You have to be able to trust them completely. Why are you looking at me like that?’

  Goodness, he was direct; it was like being interrogated in court. Lainey said, ‘We arrived in St Carys early and stopped for a coffee down by the harbour. I saw you walking along the esplanade.’ Maybe the woman who’d tried to waylay him had been someone he’d rejected for the job.

  ‘And you recognised me from somewhere?’ He tilted his head in enquiry.

  ‘Well, no, because I didn’t know who you were then, did I?’ She lightened the reply with a little laugh, because his manner was so abrupt. ‘I recognised you when you walked into this kitchen one minute ago.’

  ‘And you’re still interested in the position?’ There was a glimmer of something combative in his eyes. ‘Despite having met us?’

  ‘Everyone else seems great,’ said Lainey. ‘Although I haven’t made my mind up yet about you.’

  Next to her, Kit muttered under his breath, ‘What are you doing?’

  But India and Violet were already high-fiving each other, demonstrating their approval. Whilst India clapped, Violet said, ‘She’s good, Seth. We like her.’

  ‘So do I,’ said Majella, before hastily reaching over and touching Kit’s arm. ‘And we like you too.’

  Kit nodded gravely. ‘Thank you. Everyone always likes Lainey best, but I don’t mind. I’m kind of used to it by now.’

  Lainey grinned at him and said, ‘Thanks, darling,’ then wished she hadn’t, because it felt so strange. Worse than that, it sounded completely unconvincing; this was something they really should have practised beforehand. She tried giving Kit a loving look instead and saw the suppressed laughter in his eyes.

  Then his gaze slid to the open window behind her and amusement turned to shock. Hearing footsteps on gravel, Lainey turned to see who he was looking at, but the moment and the footsteps had passed. She raised her eyebrows at him and mouthed, ‘What’s wrong?’

  He looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

  ‘I just . . .’ Kit was shaking his head. ‘Was that . . . Is that . . . Did I just see who I thought I saw?’

  ‘Well if you thought you saw Beyoncé,’ said Seth, ‘then no, you didn’t.’

  At that moment, Lainey became aware that everyone in the kitchen was watching her and Kit, waiting to gauge their reaction. Finally the door opened and a tall, thin figure entered the kitchen, grumbling, ‘There I was, all settled down ready to watch Pointless, and it’s a bloody repeat. Oh, are these the latest contestants? Hello, hello, don’t mind me, just looking for the gin. You’re a couple of pretty young things, aren’t you? Quite a step up from the last ones; what a pair of Quasimodos they were. Darling, have we run out of gin? Because if we have, I shall need to declare a state of emergency.’

  If it were possible, the voice was even more recognisable than the face. Kit was still gazing at him, slack-jawed, but Lainey didn’t react outwardly. Until this moment, it hadn’t occurred to her that the family surname could be significant, but it now became apparent that it was. The tricky old gentleman mentioned in the advert was Sir Richard Myles, and all of a sudden finding yourself in the same room as him was kind of overwhelming. No wonder Kit was looking dumbstruck.

  He must be close to eighty now, but those bright blue eyes were undimmed with age. In the 1960s, the young Richard Myles had burst into the public consciousness upon landing the lead role in a movie called Wherever You Are. Epic, sweeping and madly romantic, it had broken box office records worldwide, and Richard Myles’s boyish good looks and charismatic personality had confirmed his place in the Hollywood firmament. Together with a wild group of fellow actors, he had dominated the party scene, burned all the candles at both ends and almost single-handedly kept the gossip columnists in business. Quick-witted, self-effacing and with buckets of charm, he’d worked non-stop for decades and downed enough alcohol to fill countless swimming pools. One by one, his hard-drinking actor friends had died, but against all the odds, and to everyone’s amazement, Sir Richard and his ironclad liver had survived.

  He was an actual national treasure, currently wearing a Hawaiian shirt and cream linen trousers whilst he rummaged in the fridge before finally locating a can of Fever-Tree tonic.

  ‘If you finished the last bottle,’ Majella said patiently, ‘there isn’t any more gin.’

  ‘Well this is a disaster.’ Richard clutched his heart in dismay. ‘It’s worse than a disaster. Darling girls, which of you two would like to pop down to the off-licence and pick me up a litre of Tanqueray?’

  ‘Grandad, they won’t let us buy it.’ By the sound of Violet’s voice, this wasn’t the first time they’d been asked. ‘We’re only just seventeen.’

  ‘But surely you can use your fake IDs?’

  India said, ‘They know we aren’t eighteen, though.’ She grinned at Kit. ‘It’s the price of fame.’

  ‘I’d go myself,’ said Sir Richard, ‘but my hip’s playing up.’ His forehead creased with the kind of despair conveyed by a castaway on a desert island when the rescue plane flies off without spotting him. His shoulders drooped and the fingers of his free hand rested against his sternum in defeat.

  ‘I know where the off-licence is,’ said Kit. ‘We passed it on our way here. If you’d like me to, I could go.’

  The shoulders lifted and the agony in Sir Richard’s face was replaced by sheer joy. The pilot of the rescue plane had spotted the castaway after all and was coming back to save him.

  ‘Well I didn’t like the other couples anyway.’ He slid a couple of twenty-pound notes out of his wallet and handed them to Kit. ‘But now you’re indisputably my favourites.’

  ‘I’ll shoot down there as soon as we’ve finished being interviewed,’ Kit assured him.

  ‘Oh, but I was rather hoping you could run down there now, dear boy. My liver’s starting to think my throat’s been cut. Besides, how would I know for sure that you’d be back? You might bugger off with my money and we’d never clap eyes on you again.’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that. I’m very honest. We both are,’ Kit assured him. ‘You can trust us completely.’

  ‘Good to know, dear boy. Right then, off you pop. We’ll see you back here in no time.’

  Sir Richard ushered Kit out of the house, then put his head back around the kitchen door. ‘If anybody needs me, I’ll be in the garden.’

  ‘You’re supposed
to be sitting in on the interview.’ Seth sounded exasperated.

  ‘I’ve already told you, I like this couple best.’

  ‘What about the questions you wanted to ask?’

  ‘Fine.’ With a sigh, Sir Richard leaned against the door jamb and fixed his gaze on Lainey. ‘Have you ever been arrested?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Not even once? How disappointing. Do you drive too fast or too slowly?’

  ‘Neither,’ said Lainey. ‘I drive just right.’

  ‘Ever been stopped by the police for speeding?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And did you get a ticket, or manage to talk your way out of it?’

  ‘Talked my way out of it.’

  He beamed his approval. ‘Good girl, that’s what I like to hear. And do you like mustard?’

  ‘Can’t stand it.’ Lainey pulled a face at the very idea.

  ‘No more questions.’ Sir Richard turned his attention to Seth and Majella. ‘Passed with flying colours. This is the one for me.’

  Once he’d left, it was the twins’ turn. They asked Lainey about her favourite TV shows, the kind of music she liked and her top three websites when shopping online for clothes, before giving Seth and Majella a cheery thumbs-up and disappearing upstairs. Majella’s phone rang and she excused herself, mouthing apologetically, ‘Work.’

  ‘And then there were two,’ Seth commented once they were alone. ‘Still, they seem to like you.’

  ‘But you haven’t made your mind up yet. And I’ve worked out why.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Sir Richard.’ Lainey clasped her hands loosely together on the table in front of her. ‘The advert didn’t mention him, but you’re wondering if we knew who we’d be working for, and whether that’s why we applied for the job.’

  ‘Correct.’