by Jill Mansell
He smiled his million-dollar smile and she captured it for posterity. ‘You’re smart. And pretty. Are you free tomorrow night?’
‘For work?’
‘Actually, I was thinking more of pleasure. I’m single,’ said Perry. ‘I hear you are too. I was wondering if you’d like to meet up in a camera-free situation.’ He shrugged lightly. ‘Could be fun, couldn’t it?’
‘You’re inviting me out? On a date?’
‘Why not?’
Sophie put the Nikon down and gave him a long, steady look. ‘OK, three things. One, the answer is no.’
‘But—’
‘Second, I’m guessing your friend Josh put you up to this.’
Wide-eyed, Perry said, ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Oh I think you do.’ His too-innocent expression was such a giveaway. ‘You’re a Hollywood star, over here for a couple of days. There’s no way you’d ask out a girl like me, with a bad back, covered in bruises and,’ she pointed to her temple, ‘with a load of stitches holding together a big ugly cut on her face. Whereas Josh can’t get over the fact that he asked me out and I turned him down flat. So it stands to reason that he’d get you to do this to test me.’
‘You’re good,’ Perry acknowledged. ‘Very good.’ He nodded in appreciation. ‘What’s the third thing?’
‘I’m glad you asked me that.’ Sophie paused, then added, ‘I know I said no, but I’m thinking it might be fun if you told him I said yes.’
Breaking into a grin, Perry said, ‘Want to know what I’m thinking? That you’re a bad, bad girl. But also a bit of a genius.’
Chapter 22
Josh watched the two of them make their way back inside. He wasn’t able to tell what had happened. Perry headed over to rejoin his hosts and Sophie resumed taking photos of the other guests.
Had Perry done it? Please God let her have turned him down. Josh experienced an unfamiliar jolt of alarm at the unwelcome prospect of being proven wrong. OK, on the up side, at least he’d know. But on the down side, it would be a real kick in the teeth.
Ten minutes later, having charmed everyone, Perry made his excuses and said his goodbyes to those around him. Before leaving, he came over to Josh and said breezily, ‘Sorry, mate. Some you win, some you lose.’
Was this it? Josh felt himself tense. ‘Meaning?’
Perry winked and said, ‘Turns out it isn’t men in general she’s not interested in. Just you.’
Bloody hell. ‘What did she say?’
‘Hey, she said yes, what else? We’re going out tomorrow night. No need to congratulate me.’ Perry looked modest. ‘You’ve either got it or you haven’t. See you around, man!’
And with that he was off, pausing only to exchange a discreet smile with Sophie on his way out. Josh saw him mouth tomorrow at her and Sophie shyly nodded before turning away.
For crying out loud, this wasn’t supposed to happen; he hadn’t meant for Perry to go ahead and actually make a bloody date.
By ten thirty, Sophie had done everything she could do, taken hundreds of photographs both formal and reportage-style, and captured the feel of the restaurant, its food and clientele. Now it was time to go home, and she’d never been more glad of it. Resting on a padded blue and white chair outside while Josh packed all the equipment back into the car, she watched as the remaining guests danced in the garden beneath the twinkling multicoloured glow of the lights strung in the trees overhead.
It had been a good party. Everyone looked so happy. A couple in their thirties who’d been dancing together earlier were now sitting at the next table. Married, by the look of their matching wedding rings. He was holding her left hand while with her right she scrolled through a message on her phone.
‘Oh brilliant!’ Her face lit up. ‘Pearl’s having a party at her place next Saturday and we’re invited!’
‘Saturday? Well we can’t go to that.’ Her husband shook his head. ‘We’ll be at Mum’s.’
It was the intransigence of his tone that did it. Sophie felt a trickle of ice slide down her spine.
‘But we go to your mum’s every week,’ his wife protested. ‘Surely she wouldn’t mind if we went to see her on the Sunday instead, just this once.’
He exhaled. ‘I don’t want to go to the party anyway. It’ll be noisy.’
With a slight air of desperation, the wife said, ‘But she’s my friend! How about if you visit your mum and I go to the party? I mean, that would suit both of us, wouldn’t it?’
Her husband’s jaw was set and he was shaking his head again. ‘Except the last time you went out with Pearl you said you’d be home by midnight, didn’t you? And what time did you get back?’
Sophie watched as the man’s wife visibly deflated. ‘I know it was a bit later than that, but we weren’t doing anything wrong. Just having fun.’
‘One o’clock in the morning.’ His eyes were steely now. ‘And I didn’t know where you were. You might call that a bit late, I call it selfish. Tell Pearl we can’t make it. We’re going to my mother’s instead.’
His wife belatedly sensed Sophie’s gaze upon them and turned her head away. The husband, having brought the matter to a satisfactory conclusion, resumed idly stroking the back of her hand with his fingers. Except what had seemed like a loving, romantic gesture of affection now looked sinister and not romantic at all.
Sophie shuddered at the overpowering sensation of déjà vu. Oh yes, this was how it happened: after weeks or months of the old memories fading, she would see or hear something – something like this – that brought all the old feelings crashing back. Together with the urge to stop it happening to other people.
Should she? Could she? Sophie took several breaths; recognising the passive-aggressive signs always made her feel sick, but was there actually anything she could say that would make a difference? Or would it just make a bad situation worse? Like drug addiction, maybe it was something the person had to recognise and deal with by themselves. The beginning was insidious and it might take a while to realise what was happening, but understanding you had to take a stand needed to be a personal decision.
Not something to be blurted out at you by a complete stranger while your over-controlling husband was sitting right next to you, holding your hand.
‘All packed away.’ Josh reappeared in the doorway. ‘Ready to go?’
‘Yes.’ With difficulty she hauled herself up out of the chair.
‘Need a hand?’
‘I’m OK.’ Like a geriatric duck, Sophie waddled after him. She glanced across one last time at the married couple and saw the wife hastily look away again. The husband smiled pleasantly and said, ‘Hope you feel better soon.’
‘Thanks.’ It took all her self-control not to turn to his wife and say, ‘Go to your friend’s party, please.’
They’d been driving for some twenty minutes before Josh said, ‘What did you think of Perry, then?’
Twenty-one minutes actually. Sophie checked her watch and smiled into the darkness; she’d had a mental bet with herself that it would happen inside half an hour.
‘He seems nice. Down to earth.’ She shrugged. ‘Fun.’
There was a pause. Ha, this was fun.
‘So …’ Josh said finally, ‘what are you doing tomorrow night?’
‘Me?’ She turned to look at him. ‘Why?’
He glanced across at her. ‘Did Perry ask you out on a date?’
‘What?’ Sophie blinked. ‘Maybe.’ She fiddled distractedly with the silver bangle on her wrist. ‘OK, yes, he did.’
‘And?’
‘And what?’
‘Did you turn him down?’
Straight to the point.
‘No, I didn’t. I said yes. We’re going out tomorrow evening.’ She said it with a mix of bashfulness and pride, and watched the expression on Josh’s face.
‘I thought you always said no.’
See? The fact that he’d asked her out and been rejected definitely still rankled. What she couldn’
t work out was whether he really liked her or just couldn’t handle the idea that anyone was capable of turning him down.
She suspected the latter. Men with high opinions of themselves tended to get competitive.
‘I always have said no.’ She shrugged. ‘But this time I said yes.’
‘And what made you change your mind?’
Ooh, definitely competitive.
‘Well, like I said, he’s really nice. Good-looking. And fun! I thought, why not just go for it?’
Josh’s tone was even. ‘And he’s made a few movies.’
‘I know, but that isn’t why I said yes. He’s just really easy to talk to. Good company.’
‘OK, but don’t get too overexcited. He’s heading back to LA in three days.’
She smiled. ‘Thanks for that. Then again, a lot can happen in three days.’
‘Hmm.’
Ha, such a sore loser.
They travelled on in silence after that. After another twenty minutes, Sophie unzipped her silver-studded turquoise shoulder bag and took out one of the restaurant’s business cards. When they next pulled up at a junction, she passed it to Josh.
‘What’s this?’
‘Read what’s written on the back. It’s a message from your friend Perry.’
He took it from her and switched on the overhead reading light. She watched him read the words scrawled across the back of the card.
In sloping black handwriting Perry had scrawled: Just kidding. She said no. Dammit!
Josh’s expression was unreadable as he handed the card back to her. Then he switched the light off and she could no longer see more than a faint outline of his face.
‘So you turned him down.’
‘Yes.’
‘But you said you hadn’t. Why?’
‘Come on. You set the whole thing up to see what I’d do. It seemed only fair to get you back.’
‘And you did. You got me. Well done.’ He was smiling now; she caught the white gleam of his teeth. ‘I have to say, I’m glad you aren’t fantasising about some falling-in-love-in-three-days scenario in which the movie star ends up whisking you off to LA.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Oh, you know what I mean. That sort of fairy-tale stuff doesn’t happen in real life.’
‘But you thought I might fall for it anyway. Cheers.’
‘I didn’t think that,’ Josh pointed out. ‘You were the one who said a lot could happen in three days.’
‘And you assumed it involved the handsome prince carrying Cinderella off to his Hollywood castle. Whereas I could have meant both of us staying here in Cornwall.’
‘Which would make an even better ending for a film. OK, this is crazy,’ Josh said abruptly. ‘Now we’re arguing about something that’s never even going to happen.’
‘True.’
‘Because you refused to go out with a Hollywood film star.’
‘Technically,’ Sophie reminded him, ‘he didn’t want to go out with me. He only asked because you told him to.’
‘Because you turn down everyone who asks you,’ said Josh.
‘Also true.’
He braked to let a fox slope across the road ahead of them. ‘Why do you do that?’
‘You asked me that question before. Did I give you an answer then?’
‘No.’
‘Exactly. So why would things be any different now? It’s my choice, my decision, my life. I choose to concentrate on my career.’
‘You could have both,’ said Josh.
‘I’d rather not.’
He glanced across at her. ‘Can I ask a personal question?’
‘What, another one?’
‘Were you attacked? Assaulted?’
Sophie shook her head. ‘No, never.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Truly. Nothing like that.’ It gave her a jolt to realise that this was the conclusion he’d drawn. Did other people think it too? It hadn’t occurred to her that there might be speculation about her decision. Her voice softening, she looked at him and said, ‘I promise. It was just a decision I chose to make. Relationships aren’t the be-all and end-all. They go wrong. Most of the time they’re more trouble than they’re worth. There’s more to life.’
‘Right.’ He paused. ‘If you say so.’
‘I do. And please don’t think I’m covering up something sinister,’ Sophie reiterated. ‘Nobody tried to hurt me.’
Which was true, more or less, wasn’t it?
Theo had only tried to hurt himself.
Chapter 23
Tula was loving working at the Mariscombe House Hotel. Moving down to St Carys had definitely been the right thing to do, to the extent that she shuddered at the thought of how it so easily might not have happened. If she hadn’t been caught out by Facebook, she could still be in Birmingham now.
But she had been caught out and she was no longer there; she was here instead. Doing a job she adored, in a gorgeous place, with friendly people.
And, cough cough, a very good-looking boss.
OK, officially Dot was her boss, but she didn’t mean Dot. Having a crush on Josh Strachan just made working at the Mariscombe that much better. It was a definite bonus knowing he was around, unexpectedly hearing his voice, looking up and catching sight of him as he passed by.
Every single time she saw him, Tula’s heart did a little double-beat. Sometimes he stopped for a few words and sometimes he didn’t, but simply finding herself on the receiving end of a momentary glance, a nod of acknowledgement or a brief smile brightened her day. She’d even found herself acting as if he were watching her when he wasn’t, just in case he secretly was. It was extra thrilling, like being in a film, aware of the cameras but pretending they didn’t exist.
And here he was again now, heading out on to the terrace in jeans and a green and white striped shirt, talking rapidly into his phone and swinging his Ray-Bans from his free hand. Skippety-skip went Tula’s heart as he nodded his head in greeting, ended his call and came over to the tables she was laying before dinner.
‘Hi, where’s Dot?’
‘The Nelligans’ taxi didn’t turn up in time, so she’s given them a lift to the station.’ Shaking out a freshly laundered cloth in an attempt to billow it into the air before letting it settle gracefully over the table, she misjudged the angle of the shake and ended up covering her own head instead. Ach.
‘Here, let me.’ Josh solemnly lifted the white cloth off her and helped her smooth it over the tabletop. ‘How’s the job going? Settling in?’
‘Yes thanks. Everyone’s lovely.’ Especially you.
She didn’t say that last bit, just thought it whilst polishing a wine glass with a vivacious flourish. Just like a girl in a film.
‘What time do you finish your shift?’
The sun was shining on to his face; she could see the glints of gold in his dark brown eyes and the tiny lines at the outer corners of the eyelids. His mouth was beautiful, so cleanly edged it looked as if it had been carved, and there was dark stubble peppering his jaw … OK, probably best to stop staring.
‘Six. But I can stay later if you want me to.’
‘That wasn’t why I was asking. Seeing Sophie tonight?’
‘No, she’s got a job on. I was just going to have a quiet evening. Well,’ Tula amended, ‘apart from Sophie, I don’t really know anyone else to socialise with yet.’
‘Ah, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll make friends soon enough.’
‘Unless you’d like to come out for a drink with me?’ The words popped out of her mouth almost of their own accord. Tula was as startled to hear them as Josh evidently was. Then again, why not? Carpe diem and all that.
‘Well …’
‘Just a drink to keep me company, a friendly gesture, that’s all … It’s a beautiful sunny evening; better than staying in and watching a load of rubbish on TV. Not too much to ask, is it?’ Oh help, and now she was burbling; almost as impressive as flinging a tablecloth over her own head.
Josh hesitated. The next moment, amazingly, he said, ‘OK then. We can do that if you want. How about seven o’clock? I’ll meet you out here on the terrace.’
Oh my God oh my God oh my GOD …
‘Seven. Perfect.’ It wasn’t that perfect, what with only giving her a single measly hour in which to do herself up, but never mind, she’d just have to go at warp speed. Throwing him a dazzling smile, Tula said, ‘See you then!’
Adrenalin. Excitement. Time for the sixty-minute makeover. Fizzing with excitement, Tula ignored the hunger pangs in her stomach and jumped into the staff quarters’ shower. If it was a choice between eating and getting herself Josh-ready, there was no contest.
Shower, hair, teeth, legs, scent, nail polish, make-up, redo hair, more make-up, pale yellow sundress, high heels, low heels, flip-flops, medium heels, pink espadrilles. And one last coat of mascara for luck.
Ta-daaaa, all done with one minute to spare. And giant squirmy butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Tula took one last look in the mirror, then left her tiny room and raced down the back stairs.
‘Wow, you look nice.’ Carol, one of the older waitresses, gave her an approving nod. ‘Doing something special?’
Ha, just a bit. Unable to keep such enthralling news to herself, Tula feigned a casual air and said, ‘Just off out with Josh.’
Carol did a gratifying double-take. ‘Who? Our Josh?’
Tula nodded proudly. ‘Drinks first, then we’ll probably go on somewhere for dinner.’ OK, that bit hadn’t actually been agreed on, but it had to be a possibility, didn’t it? She was hoping so anyway.
‘Lucky you.’ Carol, who was in her fifties and married to someone whose nickname was Shrek, said enviously, ‘He is lush.’
‘I know.’ Feeling a fresh burst of butterflies, Tula said, ‘Wish me luck! I’ll tell you tomorrow how it went.’
By eight thirty, the jug of Pimm’s was empty and Tula had a suspicion she’d drunk most of it. Then she belatedly remembered Josh was drinking San Pellegrino, which meant she’d sunk the whole lot.
It was the fruit, basically. She was hungry, so she’d eaten the slices of apple and cucumber and orange by way of a meal replacement. And drunk the accompanying punch, obviously. Well, it was a hot evening. By the time they’d reached the Mermaid Inn she’d been thirsty. And being in the company of Josh Strachan – finding herself on the receiving end of his undivided attention – had been so nerve-racking she hadn’t even realised she was knocking the stuff back until … hmm, well, until it was all gone.
