And Now You're Back

by Jill Mansell

They paused at a junction. ‘Has your mum met him yet?’

  ‘No, because I’m not living in an episode of Downton Abbey.’

  ‘Don’t you think Rosa would like him?’

  She gave a pfff of exasperation. ‘Of course she’d like him.’

  ‘Sorry, I’m sure she would.’ Will accelerated out onto the main road. ‘I was just wondering why it’s always you going over to his place rather than him coming to yours.’

  ‘Because I prefer it this way.’ Layla’s tone was crisp. Not that it’s anything to do with you.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ He grinned, unperturbed. ‘Well, more business for me.’

  Back in Elliscombe, she stepped out of the taxi and heard a piercing wolf whistle from across the street. Oh no, not more comments. She ignored it, but as she was letting herself into her flat, a hand landed on her shoulder. ‘And where have you been, you dirty stop-out?’

  She turned. ‘I think you can probably guess. Was that you whistling just now?’

  ‘Yes, it was me. I saw the cab pull up and there you were. You stayed over again last night, then? I’ve got five minutes,’ said Didi, ‘for you to make a quick coffee and catch me up with all the gossip.’

  Upstairs, in the flat above her office, Layla switched on her shiny black coffee machine and made two proper coffees with real fresh milk . . . oh bliss.

  ‘So? How’s it going?’ Didi’s eyes were bright.

  ‘Great. Really great.’

  ‘And how many times last night?’

  ‘Twice last night, no time this morning because he had to go to work.’

  ‘Right, but it’s still good?’

  ‘It was fantastic. Everything’s fantastic,’ said Layla, ‘apart from the soya milk he puts in coffee.’

  ‘Oh, gross. Tell him to get some proper milk in.’

  ‘Already have.’ She changed the subject. ‘Are you and Aaron around this evening?’

  ‘Aaron can’t make it this weekend.’ Didi was already checking her watch, sipping too-hot coffee in her haste to get back to the hotel. ‘He has a work thing on. How’s your mum getting on, having Red as a lodger?’

  ‘Loving it so far. She’s enjoying the company. Slightly worried he’s going to teach her how to steal a Lamborghini, but . . .’

  ‘He’s a reformed character,’ said Didi. ‘And your mum’s an angel who’d never do anything naughty.’

  ‘Of course she wouldn’t. And speaking of Red, everything going OK with you and Shay?’

  ‘We’re fine. He’s a guest at the hotel and I’m the manager. We see each other in passing, chat for a bit, that’s all.’

  ‘Really?’ Layla raised an eyebrow as Didi finished her coffee. ‘You don’t look at him and get butterflies, then start remembering the old days when you two were crazy about each other?’

  ‘No.’ Didi tried not to smile.

  ‘Well I don’t know why you wouldn’t, because it’s not as if he’s got ugly and turned into a complete troll—’

  ‘I need to get back to work.’ Laughing, Didi rose to her feet and headed for the door. ‘I have a fiancé, remember? Shay has his work cut out fixing up his dad’s house. And you have your new boyfriend to keep you busy. So no more troublemaking, OK?’

  The door closed behind her and Didi clattered down the staircase. Alone once more in her pride and joy, the little flat she’d decorated with such love and care, Layla gazed around at the beautiful curtains, soft rugs, comfortable furnishings and perfect lightshades. The kitchen might be small, but it was fitted out with all mod cons, and in the bathroom – which was spotless – she never ran out of posh loo roll. She’d described her flat to Harry, had even shown him photos of it on her phone. He’d seen for himself how warm and welcoming it was.

  So why, each time she suggested he might like to come over to Elliscombe, did he end up persuading her that it would be easier if they met up at his place instead?

  Chapter 15

  ‘Come upstairs.’ Shay was holding his hand out, beckoning for her to follow him. ‘I’ve got something to show you.’

  Which if anyone else were saying it would have prompted a smart reply. But right now Didi’s mouth was too dry to utter a single word, because the look in Shay’s silver-blue eyes, framed by those dark lashes, was having far too much of an effect on her. He meant business, serious business, she could tell. When they reached his old bedroom, he was going to kiss her, just like old times, and her body was already quivering with joyful anticipation, because she wanted it to happen, it had been so long . . .

  Oh but why did there have to be so many things in the way, cluttering up the staircase? Struggling not to lose her balance and stumble over the bags of rubble, Didi clung on to Shay’s hand. ‘It’s OK,’ he said like a man in absolute control. ‘You’re safe. I’ve got you.’

  But when they finally reached his old bedroom, it was full of drifting snow and penguins—

  ‘Whoops, sorry,’ said Sylvia as Didi’s eyes snapped open. ‘I didn’t know you were asleep. Slight problem downstairs.’

  Didi blinked, realising that she was in her apartment, having dozed off on the sofa in front of the TV. On the coffee table was a plate containing a slice of cheese on toast with just one bite out of it, alongside her untouched mug of tea. She swung herself upright and felt the last vestiges of Shay’s warm grip on her hand drift off into the ether as the dream full of promise was replaced by tedious reality.

  ‘Give me a second.’ She slurped a mouthful of tea and grimaced because it was stone cold. Then she shook her head to clear the fuzziness, and looked up. ‘OK, ready. What’s happened?’

  ‘Brace yourself,’ said Sylvia. ‘It’s a tricky one.’

  Tricky was an understatement, and the lingering memory of that dream wasn’t making the situation any easier. Parking up on the overgrown verge outside Hillcrest, Didi took a deep breath and climbed out of the car. Having edged past the almost-full skip on the driveway, she entered the house through the open front door and found Shay levering up rotten floorboards in the living room.

  At least he wasn’t upstairs in the bedroom, surrounded by drifts of snow and dancing penguins.

  ‘Hi.’ He sat back on his heels. ‘When I heard the car pull up outside, I wasn’t expecting it to be you. Everything OK?’

  That voice, those hypnotic eyes and thick lashes . . . and now he was wiping his hands along the faded denim that was stretched across his thighs, with absolutely no idea of the effect it was having on her fevered imagination, purely because less than twenty minutes ago his hand had been holding hers as he led her upstairs to see whatever it was he needed to show her.

  ‘No, everything isn’t OK.’ Didi gave herself a mental shake; she really must stop thinking about that dream. ‘And I need to ask you a massive favour.’

  ‘Right. Interesting.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Should I say yes straight away, or wait until I hear what it is?’

  ‘A couple have just turned up at the hotel. She’s eight and a half months pregnant.’

  ‘Hang on, is this Christmas Eve? Did they arrive by donkey?’

  ‘It’s their wedding anniversary,’ Didi went on. ‘They got married a year ago at the Wickham. Four months ago, the husband booked the Midnight Suite for tonight as an anniversary surprise.’

  ‘You mean someone at the hotel messed up and double-booked the room?’ Shay raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh dear, was it you?’

  It was good that he was joking, but not so good that the way he was looking at her was turning her insides to jelly. She said steadily, ‘It wasn’t me. He arranged it online through a booking agent, without realising they were scammers. The agency reserved the suite with us, sent him the confirmation, then kept the money he sent them. When we didn’t receive the payment, the booking was automatically cancelled. The first this guy knew about any of it was half an hour ago when he and his wife turned up for her surprise stay. Which turned out to be more of a surprise than either of them were expecting.’

  ‘Right.’ Sha
y nodded slowly.

  ‘She burst into tears.’

  ‘Poor woman.’

  ‘And she’s . . .’ Didi spread her arms, miming a vast pregnancy bump swelling out in front of her.

  ‘So you’re wondering if I’ll do the gentlemanly thing and give up my suite for the night.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Go on then, you’ve twisted my arm.’ His mouth turned up at the corners. ‘I’ll move to another room. All in the name of romance.’

  Didi took a deep breath; she hadn’t finished twisting his arm yet. ‘Thanks, that’s great. The thing is, we’re completely booked up, so there isn’t actually another room for you to move into.’

  ‘Right. Maybe they could share my suite,’ said Shay. ‘I’ll sleep in the bath.’

  She broke into a grin. ‘You’re a hero, but it doesn’t have to be that drastic. I thought you could move into my place for the night and—’

  ‘Are you serious? Does Aaron know about this?’

  ‘I thought,’ Didi continued, ‘that you could move into my apartment for the night and I’ll stay over at Layla’s.’

  Shay considered this for a second. ‘What about Aaron? Does Layla have room for both of you?’

  ‘He’s had to stay in London this weekend. Busy with work.’

  ‘OK.’ He nodded, then gestured around the living room. ‘Well, I was going to put in a couple more hours here, but should I go back now and move my stuff out?’

  ‘Are you definitely happy to do this?’ Didi double-checked.

  ‘Not a problem.’

  Phew, relief. ‘Thanks so much. You’re a star.’ Pulling out her phone, she said, ‘And we can take care of everything if you’d rather carry on here for a bit. I’ll just give Sylvia a call and let her know.’

  ‘How about you? Are you on duty tonight?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Why?’

  ‘Would your fiancé object, do you think, if I asked you to have dinner with me?’

  A zing of adrenalin shot through her body. Aaron might not be deliriously happy about the prospect, but he was off to a ridiculously glamorous event this evening at the Goring in Belgravia and she knew for a fact that two of his ex-girlfriends who worked for the same company were going to be there too.

  So he could hardly object, could he?

  ‘Hello?’ said Sylvia, answering the call. ‘And?’

  Didi exhaled. ‘Shay’s happy to do it. Can you let the couple know, then get his things moved into my apartment?’

  ‘Oh thank heavens for that! I knew he wouldn’t disappoint us.’ Sylvia’s delight was evident. ‘I could kiss him!’

  ‘No need to go that far.’ Ending the call before Shay could overhear anything even more inappropriate, Didi looked at him. ‘Aaron isn’t the jealous type. He won’t mind at all.’

  ‘Good. Was that Sylvia? What else did she say?’

  ‘That she could kiss you.’

  ‘Wow.’ His mouth twitched. ‘Sounds like it’s my lucky day.’

  Rosa finished rereading the letter that had arrived earlier and heaved a sigh. She put it down on the kitchen worktop and the breeze through the open window sent it gliding to the floor.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get it.’ Bending, Red retrieved the hand-written letter with the attached photo. ‘What is this, another order?’

  ‘Yes. Well, kind of.’

  He gave her a quizzical look. ‘Can I read it?’

  She wavered, already knowing what his reaction would be, then shrugged. ‘Go ahead.’

  Red studied the photo for a couple of seconds, then began reading aloud:

  Dear Rosa,

  Here is a photograph of my darling little granddaughter Maisie who I love more than life itself. She is six years old and gets bullied by all the other children at school because she has to wear glasses and also has a big birthmark on her neck and it just breaks my heart.

  Maisie is a dear sweet girl and she cries every day because she has no friends and says nobody else in the world looks like her. Well, last night I saw a video on Facebook about a little boy opening a parcel from you and it was so wonderful. I was in floods of tears when he saw the doll you’d made for him. It would just be so lovely if my little Maisie could have a doll that looks like her. I would do anything to make her smile again, but the sad thing is, I can’t afford to buy one of your dolls. I am an old-age pensioner and a widow with hardly enough money to get by, so I was wondering if you ever made dolls for free out of the goodness of your kind heart. If you could do this, I would be so grateful and you would make my darling Maisie the happiest little girl in the world!

  Bless you in advance.

  Yours sincerely,

  Pamela Baker

  When he had finished reading, the room was silent apart from a bumblebee bashing itself against the window, unable to comprehend why it couldn’t get through the glass.

  ‘Well,’ Red said drily, ‘full marks to her for trying. She must think you’re a complete pushover. Do you want to chuck it in the bin or shall I?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Oh please, the woman’s a con artist. If it’s even a woman.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s probably some bloke who’d rather spend his cash on beer and women than use it to buy his kid something for her birthday.’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ Rosa pleaded.

  ‘It’s a begging letter. Somebody wants something but they don’t want to pay for it. They’re trying to find out just how much of a soft touch you are.’

  ‘You think that, but what if you’re wrong?’ Maybe she was a bit of a soft touch, but wasn’t that better than being endlessly suspicious and cynical? Her vivid imagination meant she’d instantly conjured up mental images of Maisie and her kind-hearted grandma. She said, ‘It could be genuine. And that poor little girl, being bullied at school, sobbing her heart out . . .’

  ‘If I’m right,’ said Red, ‘they’ll start targeting you for money next. Trust me, I know what these people are like. I’ve met enough of them in my time.’

  Rosa knew deep down that he was probably right. ‘OK, I won’t make the doll. I’ll pretend I never got the letter, it was lost in the post.’

  ‘So does that mean I can get rid of it?’

  She swallowed and nodded. ‘Go on then.’

  ‘Well done. Gold star for you.’ Red lifted the lid of the bin and dropped the balled-up letter inside. ‘Right, I’m going to go and sit in the garden.’

  Rosa waited until he was safely settled outside with his cup of tea and a newspaper, then stealthily retrieved the crumpled ball and wiped away the stains left by Red’s tea bag. Just because she wasn’t going to make the doll didn’t mean she had to throw the letter away.

  Chapter 16

  It was seven in the evening and the room swaps had been implemented. Up on the top floor of the hotel, the anniversary couple were happily ensconced in the Midnight Suite. Here in the private quarters, Didi’s room had been tidied up, the linen had been changed and Shay’s case lay open on her beloved king-sized bed. She’d already wheeled her own overnight case across the high street and left it in Layla’s flat. And Layla, getting ready to meet up with the new love of her life, had given her the spare key because she’d be staying over – again – at Harry’s place tonight.

  It was more bed-hopping than Didi was used to, but worth it to keep good customers satisfied. Now, having demonstrated to Shay how her temperamental shower worked, she let herself out of the flat before he could emerge from the bathroom stark naked.

  Ooh, imagine . . .

  Not that it was likely to happen, but better to be on the safe side. It made sense to wait for him downstairs.

  Finding herself a comfortable rattan seat in the orangery, she opened a text from Aaron.

  There are speeches. No one warned me about the speeches. They’re going on and on and ON.

  She smiled and texted back:

  You poor thing, how you suffer for your career. Have some more champagne.

  Thirty sec
onds later, he sent her a photo of himself looking suitably cheerful, brandishing a condensation-speckled bottle of Laurent Perrier. The accompanying text said:

  I’ll survive. How about you, doing anything nice tonight?

  She hesitated, then typed:

  Quick catch-up with Shay before heading over to Layla’s.

  Which was technically true but – she hoped – also made the Shay part sound reassuringly insignificant.

  Ting, Aaron’s reply flashed up on the screen:

  Have fun. But not too much fun! X

  ‘There you are.’ Shay appeared, his hair still damp from the shower. He was wearing navy trousers, a purply-blue shirt the colour of blackberries and the aftershave she would always associate with him for as long as she lived.

  ‘Hi. Sorry, I was just letting Aaron know what’s happening.’ Didi showed him the phone screen.

  Shay nodded and sat down. ‘Takes things in his stride, I see. As you say, not the jealous type.’

  ‘He knows he doesn’t need to be. I once had a boyfriend who was jealous.’ She pulled a face. ‘Not an attractive quality. And counterproductive, because it just makes you think they know you could do better than them.’

  ‘So what happened? Or can I guess?’

  ‘I finished with him.’

  Shay laughed. ‘Of course you did. Right, where are we eating? Any preferences?’

  ‘Here, I think. Then no one can see us having dinner together somewhere else and think they’ve caught us out on some kind of clandestine meeting.’

  ‘Like a date, you mean? You’d rather be on display for all the world to see.’ He grinned. ‘Makes sense. Will we be able to get a table here? It’s looking pretty busy.’

  ‘We’ll get a table,’ said Didi. ‘I know the management.’

  Once they’d moved through to the restaurant and chosen from the menu, Shay said, ‘So when did the jealous guy feature in your life? Was he one of the fiancés?’

  Didi shuddered. ‘God, no, he was only around for a few weeks. We met at a hotel management conference. He was really keen on me, and the first couple of dates were fine. Then we went out for lunch in an Italian restaurant and he got annoyed because he thought the waiter was being too friendly towards me. That was the first sign.’