by Jill Mansell
Finally, after almost two hours, the train pulled into Paddington station. All she had to do now was catch the Tube; Aaron was working late but would be home soon enough.
Except when she made her way along the platform and reached the main concourse, there he was. Wearing his navy work suit and looking boyishly handsome, like a TV advert for a perfect boyfriend. He was waiting for her with a huge grin on his face and a cellophane-wrapped bouquet of gold roses in his left hand.
Predictably, women of all ages were casting admiring glances in his direction.
‘Surprise!’ He held his arms out in welcome. ‘When I said I had to work late, I lied. Come here!’
Oh help, and now everyone was watching. She had to go along with it as he enveloped her in a hug. He kissed her on the mouth, then said, ‘You came all this way. How could I not be here to meet you? Let me take your case . . . wow, it hardly weighs anything at all!’
It hardly weighed anything because it was pretty much empty. And she’d come all this way because it would be unforgivable not to. How could she let him schlep up to Elliscombe in order to be told what she had to tell him? It was an unspoken rule that the breaker of bad news had to be the one doing the travelling. Her plan was to let him down as gently as possible, then collect up the few belongings she’d left at his flat over the last year, pack them into her overnight case and catch the last train home tonight. Boom, sorted.
But it needed to be done in private rather than slap bang in the middle of Paddington station, in front of an audience of women who would without question be on his side. And Aaron, who wasn’t a fan of taking the Tube, was already leading the way to the taxi rank.
Oh, it was hard to find the right moment, though, to take the plunge and start the conversation that needed to happen. In the taxi, they got themselves landed with a chatty driver who was bursting to tell them about his son having passed his driving test that morning. Then, when they pulled up outside Aaron’s flat, Didi’s stomach gave a noisy growl of hunger and Aaron insisted on taking her across the road to his favourite restaurant.
‘I was going to cook for you, but it’ll take too long. We’re both hungry. Come on, let’s eat.’ And when they entered the crowded restaurant, a group of friends who lived in the same apartment building beckoned them over to share their table.
It was like being a double agent, pretending to be one half of an idyllically happy couple whilst knowing what was going to happen the moment the two of them were alone together behind closed doors. Being polite to Aaron’s neighbours, Didi felt like the ultimate fraud; it might not be the done thing to break off an engagement by text, but was anything more agonising than this?
The cancer wasn’t going anywhere, obviously, but at least the chest infection had cleared. The antibiotics had worked their magic, thank God, and tomorrow Red was being discharged from hospital.
Having both spent the evening with him on the ward, Shay dropped Rosa off at Frog Cottage and drove back to the hotel. He hadn’t seen Didi all week, but now he wanted to share the good news. When there was no sign of her either in the restaurant or outside on the crowded terrace, he stopped Sylvia on her way across reception and asked where she was.
‘Oh, Didi’s not here, she’s gone to London to see Aaron.’ Sylvia, who was one of Aaron’s biggest fans, made a swoony face. ‘To make up for missing him last weekend.’ She gave Shay a playful nudge. ‘I’m sure you know what I mean.’
Shay knew what she meant; he just wished he didn’t have to hear about it. With a nod and a brief smile, he prepared to head upstairs, but Sylvia put out a hand to stop him, her expression avid. ‘Ooh, have you heard who’s staying here?’
Shay already knew that the hotel was full. ‘Quite a few people?’
‘It was booked last week under a pseudonym, so we didn’t have any idea. A proper celebrity. I mean, I wouldn’t tell you, but she’s right opposite you in the Midsummer Suite, so it’s best you know, just in case you spot anyone sneaking up the stairs to try and get a look at her.’
‘Who is it?’
‘Caz Holloway.’ Sylvia’s eyebrows did a little dance of excitement. ‘The actress and singer? You must know who she is,’ she chided. ‘She starred in Call Me, Darling. And the next year she nearly married her co-star, the one with the moustache who played Terry in Our Favourite House. Oh, you know who I mean. She’s always in the papers!’
He and Sylvia probably read different sections of the newspaper. Shay said, ‘The name rings a bell,’ mainly to be polite, but she had pulled out her phone, and was evidently determined to educate him.
‘Here she is. Now you recognise her. This was taken when she was starring in the West End as Eponine in Les Mis. I saw her in that! What a voice. She’s a character all right. Oh, let me show you something else. What do you think of this?’
Instead of Caz Holloway, the phone screen now showed an emerald-green velvet hat with a swooping brim and an explosion of ribbons and feathers on one side. Sylvia waited expectantly for his reaction.
‘It’s . . . very dramatic,’ said Shay.
‘I know!’
‘Is this . . . for you?’
‘Of course!’
‘For a special occasion?’
‘No, I thought I’d wear it while I’m scrubbing the kitchen floor.’ Her eyes danced. ‘Yes it’s for a special occasion. Didi and Aaron’s wedding! Don’t you think it’s the most gorgeous hat you ever saw in your life?’
It was like a jab in the ribs, well meant but painful. Didi was marrying Aaron and he couldn’t be allowed to forget it. Preparing to make his escape, Shay nodded. ‘It’s perfect.’
Sylvia gazed lovingly at the hat. ‘Sometimes you clap eyes on something for the first time, don’t you, and you just know you have to have it.’
Since taking up residence, he’d grown accustomed to the creaking oak floorboards on the curved staircase leading up to the top floor of the ancient hotel. After a while, you barely noticed them. But as he made his way along the carpeted landing, it became apparent that the new guest had heard his arrival. The door to the Midsummer Suite opened a couple of inches and a female voice said, ‘Are you room service?’
‘I’m not,’ said Shay. ‘Sorry.’
He heard a sigh. Half a face appeared in the slender gap and one heavily made-up eye stared at him. ‘For crying out loud, where are they? I ordered a bottle of wine ages ago.’
‘They’re pretty busy downstairs.’
‘And I’m pretty thirsty upstairs.’ Having checked him out, Caz Holloway opened the door wide. ‘Hello. Are you sure you aren’t room service?’
‘I’m sure.’ He pointed to his own door, across the landing. ‘That’s me, there. But if you want, I can go downstairs and get your wine for you.’
She hesitated, tightening the belt around her white towelling robe, then shook her head. ‘Thanks, but it’s OK. If I say yes, you’ll tell everyone I’m a right diva.’
She shouldn’t be having to wait, though. Shay said, ‘How long ago did you order the wine?’
‘Three minutes.’
He nodded gravely. ‘Right.’
‘I know, I know, but I don’t like having to wait.’ She broke into a grin. ‘See what I mean? Diva.’
He held up his key. ‘If it helps, I’ve got some wine in my fridge. Would that keep you going?’
‘You,’ Caz waggled a finger at him, ‘are a lifesaver.’
‘Wait there.’
When he returned with the half-full bottle of Picpoul de Pinet, she took it from him. ‘Is there anyone else in your room?’
‘Not that I’m aware of. Unless they’re hiding under the bed.’
‘Do you have a wife?’
‘No.’
‘Girlfriend?’
‘No.’
‘Boyfriend?’
‘Not even one of those.’
‘And are you off out anywhere this evening?’
‘No.’
Caz tilted her head. ‘So if you wanted to come ov
er to my room for a quick drink, you’d be welcome. D’you think you might fancy that?’
Shay hesitated. He might not be familiar with her shows, but he recognised her now, had seen her photo online and had watched her being interviewed on TV. She was a character who wore her heart on her sleeve and was prone to speaking her mind when maybe it would be more sensible not to. Her romantic trials and tribulations endeared her to her adoring public, who treated her as a kind of impulsive, wayward surrogate sister or daughter.
Basically, Caz Holloway was a bit of a handful.
Which he really didn’t need right now.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘That’s really kind of you. But it’s been a long day. I’m pretty shattered.’
She looked stunned. ‘You’re turning me down?’
‘Not turning you down. Just saying no thanks, not this evening.’
‘Well I’m crushed,’ said Caz. Her smile regretful, she turned to head back into her room. ‘But thanks for the wine. Night.’
Minutes later, Shay heard the familiar creak of floorboards as Caz’s room service request was delivered to the Midsummer Suite.
He took a shower, then put on clean jeans and began flipping through the TV channels. Mental images of Didi kept jumping into his head. Where was she now? What was she doing? Were she and Aaron out somewhere glamorous, meeting up with friends, maybe dancing and socialising at a party? Or were they back at his place enjoying the first night of a romantic weekend together, doing the kinds of things he definitely didn’t want to imagine them doing?
Stop it. Don’t think about Didi. Watch the TV or download a film and concentrate on that instead.
A knock came at the door.
Chapter 26
Shay looked at the door; no, of course it wasn’t Didi, she hadn’t changed her mind about spending the weekend in London and come racing back to tell him—
‘Hey, it’s me, your neighbour. Tell me you haven’t gone to sleep.’
He opened the door and the empty wine bottle was thrust into his hand. ‘First, thank you for the wine. I’m very polite, so here’s your bottle back.’
‘Thanks.’ She’d changed out of her robe and into leggings and a thin cotton top.
‘Second, I don’t like the feeling of inviting someone over for a drink and being turned down.’
‘Sorry about that. You mustn’t take it personally.’
‘Except I do.’ Counting on her fingers, she said, ‘And thirdly, I came here to relax, be on my own and get my head straight, but I didn’t realise how quickly the novelty would wear off, which is why it’s half nine on day one and I’m so bored I could scream. Turns out I don’t like being on my own after all.’
‘Better if you don’t scream,’ said Shay.
‘Will you come over and keep me company? If I ask nicely?’
‘Let me just—’
‘How about if I beg?’ Caz blurted out. ‘Shamelessly.’
At least she’d take his mind off Didi. ‘Let me just grab a T-shirt,’ he said.
Their suites were similar in size and design – thick carpet, squashy grey velvet sofa, one feature stone wall behind the king-sized bed, antique furniture, with a dazzling chandelier suspended from the double-height beamed ceiling. Through the leaded windows, there was a view over the high street. The main difference was that whereas his own suite was pretty tidy, hers looked like a tornado had swept through an upmarket boutique and dumped its contents on every surface.
‘Here.’ She handed him a brimming glass of Cloudy Bay and clinked her own against it. ‘Thanks for humouring me. You don’t have to stay long, I promise.’
‘Don’t be daft. Thanks for the invitation. I’m Shay.’
‘I know.’
‘Oh?’
‘I saw that there were only two suites up here on the top floor. When the assistant manager showed me around, she told me your name and said I wouldn’t bother you. She also said you were here for a couple of months.’
‘True.’ Shay nodded. ‘And your name is . . .?’
‘Caz.’
He grinned. ‘Correct. Well done.’
She sat cross-legged in the centre of the bed and scooped up a handful of salted almonds, spilling a couple on the carpet, then took a glug of wine. ‘Let’s get started then, shall we? You go first. Tell me everything about you.’
And Shay found himself doing it. He didn’t tell her everything, obviously, but Caz got the story of his father wanting to come home, and his work renovating Hillcrest. Against all expectations, she was an avid listener, interested in every detail and asking endless questions. Finally he said, ‘That’s enough about me. Now it’s your turn.’
She pulled a comical face. ‘Oh God, what d’you want to hear, the PR company’s spin or the real version?’
‘We don’t have to talk about you at all if you don’t want to.’
‘Which is exactly the way to make me want to tell you the truth.’ Caz grinned and splashed more wine into her glass. ‘I split up from my boyfriend a few weeks ago. It was kind of our speciality – we’ve had so many break-ups in the last year it’s laughable – but this time we’re done for good. He’s sleeping with his manager and she’s ten years older than me. She’s not even that pretty.’
‘Are you devastated?’
‘Oh, I can cry on cue if you want me to pretend to be. But honestly, it had run its course. According to my nan, we were like a low-rent Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor. Drinking too much, fighting non-stop, breaking up and making up practically every week. It was no fun, it was exhausting and I knew deep down he was only with me for the money and the publicity. I spend my time working my socks off and he does sod all. Story of my life,’ she concluded wryly. ‘Well, not my whole life, but it’s been pretty much the same for the last ten years, ever since I got famous.’
‘Not much fun.’
‘Tell me about it. Got a thing for bad boys, that’s my trouble. Time I sorted myself out.’ She shrugged. ‘This is why I came here, to have a break and get away from all the chaos.’
Shay glanced around the suite, at the clothes and shoes chucked on the floor, at the make-up scattered over the chest of drawers, the glossy magazines and packets of sweets spilling out of one of the expensive suitcases over by the window.
Caz followed his gaze. ‘I know, I know, but this is physical chaos and I’m allowed to be messy in my own hotel room. I’m hungry,’ she announced. ‘Are you hungry? I don’t want to go downstairs, though. Shall we order loads of food? Oh, don’t tell me you don’t want to.’ She lobbed an almond at him when he hesitated. ‘I can’t cope with rejection – I’m a diva, remember! Please say yes.’
It had been one of those endless evenings, the nightmare kind where you found yourself trapped in a situation from which there was no escape. The table of friends from Aaron’s apartment building were chatty and funny, and under any other circumstances Didi would have loved spending time with them. Finally, dinner was over and they prepared to leave the restaurant. The next moment, two people walked past the window, stopped abruptly and tapped loudly on the glass to attract their attention.
‘Hey, it’s Raj and Kev!’ Aaron’s face lit up. ‘They’re back from Ibiza!’
And that had been that. Raj and Kev had come bursting into the restaurant and Aaron had said, ‘Come on, let’s go back to my place. We need to hear all about your holiday!’
Oh please no, we really don’t. Didi attempted to mentally signal to Raj and Kev that this would be a terrible idea.
‘Yeah!’ Raj high-fived Aaron. ‘Got plenty of drink in?’
‘Loads,’ Aaron promised.
‘We’ll probably miss the last train home. OK to crash at yours?’ said Kev.
‘No problem at all.’
Didi silently exhaled; so much for telepathy.
‘Brilliant.’ Raj was jubilant. ‘What are we waiting for? Let’s go!’
It was one o’clock in the morning. Caz was singing along dreamily to a track from the new Lewi
s Capaldi album. She had an incredible voice, warm, husky and fantastically expressive. As she sang, she caught Shay’s eye and smiled. ‘Be an angel, pass us those tacos and that avocado dip.’
Tonight had been an interesting experience in more ways than one. Shay hadn’t planned on still being in her room this late, yet here he was. Caz had led an astonishing life and told great stories about and against herself, cheerfully admitting her flaws and failings. As a rule, whenever he met a new woman, within an hour or two Shay would inevitably find a reason to be disappointed in some aspect of her personality. It was ridiculous, he knew, and a really annoying character trait to have been landed with, but that was just how it went, and over the years he’d grown used to it.
Tonight, though, it hadn’t happened. Against all the odds, getting to know Caz Holloway had exceeded expectations. She was self-deprecating and down to earth, and he was enjoying her company. She also seemed to be enjoying his.
‘What are you thinking?’ she said now.
‘I’m thinking you’ve nearly finished the avocado dip.’
‘That’s because my manager isn’t here to give me grief over how many calories there are in it.’ She ran her index finger around the inside of the pot and stuck it in her mouth. ‘If you want more, we can phone down for some.’
‘I’m OK.’
‘Oh, I already know that.’
He pointed out of the window. ‘Look at those stars.’
‘Why?’
‘Because there are so many of them. It’s a beautiful night.’
‘I mean, why did you change the subject when I said I knew you were OK?’ She cocked an eyebrow. ‘Are you shy?’
‘No.’
