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

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It Started with a Secret: The feel-good novel of the year, from the bestselling author of MAYBE THIS TIME Page 19

by Jill Mansell


  ‘This is for you too.’ Wyatt produced a bottle of Cristal. ‘And if you’re free, we’d love you to join us this evening for dinner at Mariscombe House.’

  ‘Dinner this evening?’ The half-open kitchen door was pushed fully open and Richard came in, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the champagne. ‘Am I invited?’

  Wyatt and Penny visibly boggled at the unexpected arrival of an ancient Hollywood icon in a battered straw hat, checked shirt and crumpled trousers. Wyatt swallowed and attempted to gather his wits. ‘By all means, Lord . . . Sir . . . Of course, it’d be an honour.’

  ‘If that’s chilled,’ Richard indicated the bottle, ‘it seems a shame not to open it. So you’re the fellow who lost the ring, are you?’ He nodded at Penny. ‘And you’re the one who turned him down and did a runner?’

  ‘Well, kind of,’ said Penny. ‘Sorry if I look a bit shell-shocked, but you’re my gran’s favourite actor.’

  ‘Always the grans.’ Richard looked mournful. ‘Nature’s way of reminding me how ancient and decrepit I am. You’ve come along with him to collect the ring, then? Had second thoughts about turning him down?’

  Penny smiled and shook her head. ‘Nothing like that. We’ve decided we’re better off as friends.’

  ‘Oh dear, was he rubbish in bed?’

  ‘Richard!’ Mortified on their behalf, Lainey shot him a warning look. ‘Stop it, that’s rude.’

  Renowned for the impulsive remarks that had made him such a hit on chat shows over the decades, Richard said, ‘I think it’s a perfectly reasonable question.’

  ‘It’s definitely a great way not to get invited out to dinner,’ said Lainey.

  Wyatt turned to her. ‘Hey, we had no idea this was who you were working for now. It’s fine. No worries. It’s an honour to be made fun of by Sir Richard Myles.’

  Richard rummaged in the deep pocket of his cream linen trousers and pulled out the diamond ring that had spent the last three weeks locked in his safe. Holding it towards Wyatt, he said, ‘So does this mean I’m still invited to join you?’

  ‘Of course you’re invited, Sir . . . m’lord . . . of course you are.’ Wyatt turned as the kitchen door opened once more and Majella popped her head round. His ears turning pink, he gestured expansively. ‘Everyone’s welcome to join us. The more the merrier!’

  Seth was still up in Bristol and the twins stayed at home with Harry and the dogs, so there were six of them in the end, occupying a corner table in the hotel’s busy restaurant. Richard sat with his back to the other diners to avoid their endless glances in his direction. Champagne was poured, toasts were made and the conversation flowed. Lainey, having privately had her doubts about how well Wyatt and Penny’s just-good-friends plan would work out, began to think it might stand a chance after all.

  And how lovely it was to see him happy again, cheerfully admitting that the surprise wedding proposal had been a terrible idea in the first place.

  ‘Although the chateau was great,’ he continued. ‘Couldn’t fault it. Mom was talking about it just the other day, saying what a fantastic place it was. Dad said he’d take her back there on vacation in September if she wants.’

  ‘Except they aren’t taking any more bookings,’ said Kit.

  ‘You mean it’s full?’ Wyatt looked alarmed. ‘Booked up for the rest of the season?’

  Lainey shook her head. ‘Kind of the opposite. They couldn’t manage to keep the business running. The place is up for sale now.’

  ‘Oh no, I had no idea. That’s awful!’ Wyatt sat back in dismay. ‘Couldn’t they just, like, borrow some money to get them through?’

  ‘They’d already done that,’ said Kit. ‘All their savings were gone and the bank wouldn’t lend them any more. That’s the reason we came here,’ he explained. ‘Biddy and Bill had to let us go.’

  ‘Well that’s a crying shame. Mom and Dad’ll be so disappointed. They were looking forward to staying there again. So what are Biddy and Bill doing now? Did they move back to the UK too?’

  ‘They’re still there,’ Lainey explained. ‘Trying their best to persuade someone else to buy the chateau. It’s OK, it’ll happen eventually. I called Biddy last night and told her you were coming down today. She sends her love and says she hopes you’re feeling a bit better now.’

  Wyatt exchanged a smile with Penny. ‘You can tell her I am.’

  ‘We both are,’ said Penny. ‘Oh, is everything OK?’

  ‘Everything’s fine.’ As soon as she’d said it, Lainey realised that Penny hadn’t been addressing her. To her left, Kit had frozen with his glass halfway to his lips and was staring across the room.

  Following the direction of his gaze, Lainey observed two men leaving the outside terraced area, making their way through reception. The man closest to them was tall, dark and built like a rugby player, whilst the other, largely hidden from view, was shorter and slimmer. The next moment she caught a glimpse of spiky white-blonde hair and realisation dawned.

  The next next moment, as they came into full view, they stopped walking and turned to face each other. The dark-haired man said something to Tom, who replied with a playful smile and slid his arm around his companion’s waist. They leaned closer, words were exchanged and Tom reached up affectionately to stroke the side of the other man’s jaw. Then they made their way across the hall, ascended the staircase together and disappeared from view.

  Lainey heard Kit exhale. Under cover of the table she gave his knee a consoling squeeze. His first date with Tom had gone brilliantly. At the end of the evening, Tom had promised to be in touch soon, but had warned Kit that for the next couple of weeks the bar was crazy busy and he might not be able to spare the time to get away.

  In a low voice, Kit murmured, ‘When he said he was going to be rushed off his feet, I didn’t realise he meant by a full-back.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Lainey felt for him. It wasn’t her fault, but what else could she say? She’d tried to gently warn him about Tom’s reputation, but it was one of those situations where, if you were the besotted one, you really needed to learn about it for yourself.

  And she knew only too well how that felt; hadn’t she been gullible enough to believe that Anton would want to keep her in his life when they left the chateau?

  She dismissed the memory; time had swiftly healed that small wound, thankfully, and she barely thought of Anton now. When she came across his updates on Facebook, she no longer harboured any desire to be the girl at his side.

  Hopefully Kit would make a similarly speedy recovery.

  ‘Tom doesn’t deserve you,’ Lainey whispered in his ear. ‘You can do so much better.’

  Across the table, Wyatt was looking concerned because Kit was still holding his glass without taking a drink. ‘Is there something wrong with the Laurent-Perrier?’

  Recovering himself, Kit looked at the glass and grinned. ‘Are you kidding? I’ve never met a champagne I didn’t like.’

  Once dinner was over, they headed out onto the terrace. Stars twinkled like sequins in the navy-blue sky and the trees in the grounds were strung with fairy lights. Dot Strachan, one of the owners of the hotel, showed them to another discreetly positioned table where Richard wouldn’t be bothered by tourists, and Richard promptly swept Dot – who was glamorous and in her seventies – into a bit of a waltz that instantly caught the attention of everyone on the terrace.

  ‘I don’t know why we bother trying to look after him,’ Dot laughed once he’d twirled her around the tables and back again.

  ‘Because you adore me,’ said Richard. ‘Almost as much as you adore that lucky husband of yours.’

  Dot’s eyes sparkled. ‘Ah, that’s probably why.’

  More drinks arrived, the conversation continued to flow, and when someone approached their table twenty minutes later, it took Lainey a couple of seconds to recognise who it was.

  Normally the woman’s hair was loose and windblown and her clothes and footwear were on the frumpy side. This evening, by contrast, she was we
aring what looked like her very best dress, with medium-heeled patent shoes, and her hair was fastened up in a bun. She was even wearing blue eyeshadow and peach lipstick.

  ‘Oh my word, Sir Richard, how lovely to bump into you here!’ Pauline came to a halt in front of him, her face lighting up. ‘My goodness, look at you all, drinking champagne!’

  Wyatt, the hospitable host, said at once, ‘If you’re a friend of Sir Richard’s, let me pour you a glass,’ and reached for the bottle in the ice bucket.

  ‘Oh no, no, I couldn’t, that’s very kind but I’m more a fan than a friend . . . well, just a fan really . . . and I have my water.’ Pauline held up her own half-full glass. ‘I can’t believe how expensive the drinks are here! I asked for a mineral water, but even that was quite pricey, so I got them to give me normal water from the tap. And that was free!’

  ‘Well, good. And so it should be.’ Next to Wyatt, Penny gave Pauline a warm smile. ‘And are you here with friends?’

  ‘No, I’m on my own. My next-door neighbour knows I’m a fan of Sir Richard and she told me she’d seen him coming into the restaurant earlier, so I put on my best clothes and did myself up so they couldn’t refuse to serve me at the bar. I hardly recognised myself when I looked in the mirror, I can tell you!’ Pauline smacked her lips together and beamed. ‘It’s been a few years since I last wore lipstick!’

  ‘You look lovely,’ Penny assured her. ‘My gran’s a big fan of Sir Richard too. I can’t wait to see her face when I show her the photo we took earlier of the two of us together!’

  ‘Oh . . .’ Pauline’s look of longing was enough to melt the hardest of hearts. Lainey watched as Penny jumped up.

  ‘Here, give me your phone,’ she urged the older woman. ‘I’ll take one of you with Sir Richard, shall I? It’s better than doing a selfie and trying to fit both of you into the frame.’

  Majella was biting her lip, doing her best not to laugh, because Penny was a kind and lovely person who was just being helpful, which meant that Richard was now unable to refuse. Forced to get to his feet, he smiled for the camera with Pauline beaming like a lottery winner at his side, whilst Penny moved around them saying brightly, ‘There, oops no, you blinked, let’s just do another one . . . and a couple more to make sure.’

  ‘Thank you, thank you so much.’ There were tears of joy in Pauline’s eyes as she turned to gaze up at her idol. ‘This is the best day of my life. I never thought I’d get my picture taken with you . . . You don’t know how much this means to me.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ said Richard, clearly discomfited and eager for her to leave them in peace.

  ‘It’s not as if he’d ever say no, is it? Gosh,’ Penny exclaimed, ‘how long does it take to have a selfie done? I mean, he’s such a kind person, he’s always going to be nice to his fans, isn’t he? Especially when he knows how much it means to them.’

  Even Richard had the grace to look embarrassed at this. Lainey and Majella exchanged a glance and struggled to look as if it was an entirely plausible description of his character.

  ‘I know,’ said Pauline, ‘and I’m sure he is nice. But it’s such a shame he never replies to letters. It would mean so much to the people who’ve sent them to him.’

  ‘Does he never reply?’ Penny looked surprised. ‘Oh, I’m sure he must do sometimes! Once in a while, at least!’

  Shamefaced, Richard cleared his throat. ‘Well I do my best, but I can’t always manage it. There are just, you know, too many.’

  ‘But I belong to your online fan club and there are hundreds of us who’ve sent you cards and letters and presents.’ Emboldened, Pauline continued, ‘And none of us has ever had a reply. Not that it stops us from writing to you,’ she added hastily. ‘I’m just saying, it would be so nice if occasionally it could happen. Because then at least we’d know you’d seen what we’d written.’

  ‘Of course,’ agreed Penny. ‘That would make a world of difference, I can completely understand that.’

  ‘Well . . .’ Increasingly discomfited, Richard said, ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘That would be wonderful. You don’t have to write to me,’ added Pauline, ‘but a friend of mine has written to you three times now and she was so disappointed when you didn’t reply. Her name’s Nerys and she sent the last one two weeks ago in a turquoise envelope because I told her you once said in an interview that turquoise was your favourite colour. It would mean the world to her—’

  ‘Everything OK here?’ Dot Strachan was back, having spotted that Pauline was outstaying her welcome. With a charming smile, she rested a hand in the small of Pauline’s back and said amiably, ‘Shall we leave these people to enjoy their drinks in peace?’

  ‘Of course. Sorry. But it’s been lovely to have the chance to say hello. And thanks for the photos. Thank you so much.’

  Penny nodded enthusiastically. ‘No trouble at all. It’s been lovely to meet you too!’

  When Dot had guided Pauline back into the hotel, Majella said playfully, ‘So that’s you told.’

  Richard tipped his head back and took a hefty glug of brandy. ‘Bloody hell. I don’t have many years left. I can’t spend the rest of my life writing back to people I don’t even know.’ He turned to Penny. ‘I mean, as much as I’d like to.’

  Which was a massive fib, obviously.

  Lainey said, ‘Look, I know Pauline’s a bit over the top, but she does have a point. Why don’t you let me open the fan mail from now on and go through it, just to see what’s there? We could send out some signed photos every week, maybe answer a few questions. And I’ll do it all in my own time,’ she blurted out before Richard could come up with some reason to object. ‘You’d hardly have to do anything at all. Five minutes a day, maximum. Shall we do that?’

  Across the table, Penny and Wyatt were looking expectant. Next to Lainey, Kit was quietly snorting with laughter at Richard being backed into a corner and getting his comeuppance at last.

  ‘Fine, OK, we’ll do it. Five minutes a day.’

  Hooray!

  ‘Great.’ Lainey beamed at him. ‘Five, maybe ten minutes. Definitely no more than ten.’

  Chapter 26

  The view from his room on the second floor of the hotel was the kind that couldn’t fail to lift the spirits. Wyatt took in the sweep of Mariscombe Bay, the crescent of pale yellow sand, the early-morning swimmers and joggers, and the seagulls soaring overhead in a pale blue, nearly cloudless sky.

  Penny, who was in no way an early riser, would still be asleep in her own room; they’d made plans to meet downstairs for breakfast at 9.30, which was two hours from now. Picking up his phone, Wyatt took several photos of the beach to show her later. What a beautiful morning, and hopefully the weather would hold for tomorrow’s wedding in St Ives. His attention was caught by two dogs cavorting together on the beach, launching themselves into the waves in pursuit of a yellow ball that had been thrown by their owner. The larger of the dogs managed to reach it first and swam back to shore, its tail wagging triumphantly as it dropped the ball at the feet of . . .

  Wyatt picked up the pair of binoculars on the window ledge and brought them into focus. Yes, it was Lainey’s co-worker, Kit. Wearing rather fewer clothes than he’d had on during dinner last night.

  And now he was hurling the ball back into the sea, this time racing after the two dogs into the water. As he watched them, Wyatt found himself smiling; he hadn’t seen his parents’ dogs for a few days and was missing them. He put down the binoculars, pulled on a shirt and board shorts, and picked up his room key.

  Down the stairs he went, out of the hotel and across the sloping lawn, still damp with dew where the sun’s rays hadn’t reached it yet. He made his way down the path to the stone steps and began his descent.

  It was stumbling on a stray pebble that caused him to miss a step, lose his balance and go careering down the rest of them with an undignified shout. He braced himself in anticipation of the pain when he reached the bottom, but the worst had already happened. L
anding on the sand with a thud caused no further damage, apart from to his pride.

  ‘Oh great,’ Wyatt muttered to himself as heads turned in his direction and a young blonde woman came hurrying across the beach towards him.

  ‘You poor thing! Are you hurt?’

  ‘Nothing too terrible.’ The pain in his ankle was as breath-catching as it was familiar. ‘Just give me a minute . . .’

  ‘The same thing happened to me once. Right here.’ The blonde indicated the steps. ‘I tried to catch a runaway pushchair and it landed on me, sent me flying. My back was in agony and I could hardly walk for days! Although on the bright side, it’s kind of how me and my husband ended up getting together, so—’

  ‘Wyatt, it is you. Oh God, are you OK?’ It was Kit, dripping with seawater and clearly concerned, the two dogs at his heels. He knelt beside him. ‘Did you hit your head? How’s your back? Glenda, stop it, don’t lick his toes.’

  ‘I didn’t hit my head. My back’s fine.’ Despite the waves of pain, Wyatt couldn’t help gasping with laughter. ‘But could you get the dog away from me? My feet are really ticklish. It’s my right ankle that’s the problem,’ he went on as the blonde woman gently scooped Glenda into her arms. ‘I broke it last Christmas and it felt exactly like this. And I wasn’t watching where I was going, so it looks like I’ve just done the same thing again.’

  ‘Oh Wyatt, that’s terrible,’ said Kit.

  ‘They did warn me the break might be weaker and more vulnerable. I went over on a pebble and missed the step. I’m an idiot.’ Wyatt sighed, because his ankle was already beginning to balloon. ‘I just wish it wasn’t my right foot. Means I’m not going to be able to drive.’

  The blonde woman took control of both dogs while Kit helped Wyatt to his feet. Well, foot. Attempting to put any weight on the bad ankle made him gasp, and he had to lean heavily on Kit in order to stay upright.

  ‘This isn’t great timing.’ Kit was sympathetic.

  ‘I know. Can’t see me dancing at the wedding.’ Wyatt grimaced with pain; it was also hard to concentrate when you were being supported by a dripping-wet male wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. His own arm was slung across Kit’s broad shoulders and Kit’s arm was firmly grasping him around the waist. Never having been the rugby- or football-playing type, close physical contact with another man wasn’t something he was remotely familiar with. ‘Owww,’ he hissed through gritted teeth, having accidentally put pressure on his right foot.

 

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