by Jill Mansell
‘I tried so hard to forget you,’ he murmured when they finally came up for air. ‘Never could. You were always there.’ He pressed his hand to his chest. ‘In here. Wrecking my chances of finding someone else.’
Didi traced the scimitar curve of his cheekbone with an index finger. ‘I can’t believe we wasted all this time when we could have been together.’
‘Don’t think about it. Maybe this was the way it had to happen. And now it has.’ He held her face in his warm hands as a million tiny flakes of snow danced around them in the otherwise deserted street. ‘I love you. And after all these years, we know it’s not going to go away. You’re stuck with me now, for good.’
Didi was still trembling, but not from the cold. Had anyone even noticed she was missing from the hotel?
‘I can’t wait to be stuck with you.’ Belatedly, a thought struck her. ‘Did you come straight from the airport?’
‘Yes, Will collected me. Why?’
‘Where’s your luggage?’
‘We stopped at the house to drop it off. Then he waited while I visited the graveyard.’ He touched her cheek. ‘You left fresh roses on the grave. When I saw you’d done that, it felt like a sign.’
Didi hugged him. ‘You must miss him so much.’
‘I miss being able to let him know he managed to get us together in the end.’ Shay smiled briefly. ‘Then again, this is Red we’re talking about. He probably knows.’
‘Everyone’s at a party tonight. Benny and Rosa’s,’ she remembered. ‘I promised I’d go.’
His eyes glinted. ‘Me too. Will told me about it and added me to the guest list.’ And when she looked at him, he shook his head. ‘No, don’t say it. We can’t not turn up.’
‘We don’t have to stay long.’ Didi moulded herself against him. ‘We can just say hello to everyone, then sneak off.’ The great thing was, she didn’t have to wonder what Shay was like in bed. This was something else she’d never forgotten.
‘We’ll do that. And then what? Your place or mine?’ His mouth brushed her ear, making her shiver with anticipation. ‘I’m telling you now, mine’s pretty cold.’
Didi tilted her head to indicate the hotel, filled with warmth, golden light spilling through the diamond-leaded windows. ‘Seems only right to spend the night here with the man of my dreams.’ She gave him a lingering kiss, melting the snowflakes on his mouth. ‘It is my wedding night, after all.’
Epilogue
Fourteen months later
Fourteen years ago, St Mark’s Square in the centre of Venice had been covered in a blanket of snow.
And now they were back, on the anniversary of that magical night when they’d sneaked separately out of the hotel, made their way here to the square and ended up – after a dodgy start – working together to build a snowman.
‘Call yourself a romantic?’ said Didi. ‘If you really loved me, you’d have arranged for the delivery of six inches of snow.’
Shay shrugged. ‘It was here this morning, waiting for you. Then the sun came out and it melted.’
‘You’re a liar, but I’ll let you off. Just this once.’ She reached up and kissed him, the football-sized bump beneath her red wool dress making it harder to achieve these days. It had always been Shay’s idea that they should come back to Venice on their honeymoon, but by then she’d be thirty-eight weeks pregnant and not allowed to fly, so they’d brought the trip forward. The weather was mild and the sun was out, the cloudless sky an almost luminous shade of cornflower blue.
As Didi surveyed the scene around them, a group of nuns hurried past, scattering pigeons. The church bells were ringing out in the Campanile and a string quartet was playing outside Caffè Florian. She reached for Shay’s warm hand and felt him give her fingers an answering squeeze.
A month from now, their wedding would be taking place – at the Wickham Hotel, of course. And shortly after that, fingers crossed, their baby was due to arrive. Or maybe before, for added drama and because babies apparently weren’t great at sticking to schedules. Sylvia was running a sweepstake amongst the staff and everyone had found it hilarious when Didi had managed to draw her own wedding day as the date her first child would make its entrance into the world.
Would it matter, though, really, if it did? Not at all. Whatever happened on the day, or whenever their baby arrived, Didi knew she was already fourteen than she’d ever been before in her life. The last fourteen months with Shay Mason had been perfect.
‘I’ve got something for you.’ With his free hand, he was taking a small envelope from his inside jacket pocket.
‘What is it?’
‘I always told myself I’d never show you this until it happened. But now we’re here and I’m jumping the gun. Because I’m pretty sure it’s going to happen now anyway.’
‘What is it?’ Bursting with impatience, Didi tried to make a grab for the envelope, but he whisked it out of reach.
‘And it seems only right to do it here.’ His eyes were sparkling in the sunlight. ‘Plus, I think you’ll like it.’
The baby chose that moment to give an almighty kick, the outline of its foot visible through the front of her red dress.
‘Show me,’ Didi insisted, pressing the flat of her hand over the tiny protruding heel. ‘We can’t stand the suspense.’
Shay passed her the envelope and watched as she opened it. Inside was a folded sheet of paper, creased and yellowed with age. Unfolding it, Didi saw that it was headed notepaper from the Hotel Ciati, where they’d stayed all those years ago.
The short note written in black biro was in Shay’s unmistakable hand. Dated fifteen years ago to the day, it said: Tonight I built a snowman with the girl I’m going to marry.
She gazed at it in silence for several seconds.
‘I kept it in my diary,’ said Shay. ‘Even after we broke up, I couldn’t throw it away.’
Didi broke into a broad smile. ‘I always did like a man who knows what he wants. Especially when he wants me.’
‘Oh, I do.’ Shay wrapped his arms around her. ‘Always did. Always will.’
If you loved AND NOW YOU’RE BACK, don’t miss Jill Mansell’s deliciously funny Sunday Times bestseller . . .
Get your copy now!
Turn the page to read the opening chapters of IT STARTED WITH A SECRET . . .
Chapter 1
Lainey could hear the helicopter before it came into view over the tops of the trees, the powerful thud-thud-thud of the rotor blades quite thrilling out here in the depths of the French countryside. She wondered what it would be like to actually take a trip in a helicopter.
Blinking, she shielded her eyes from the bright afternoon sun. ‘Here they are then, right on time.’
Bill, standing next to her on the ancient stone steps of the chateau, said, ‘Remember, anything they want, they get. Before they even know they want it.’
The faint tremor in her boss’s voice signalled just how vital it was that this stay was a success. Lainey passed him a tissue so he could mop his brow. ‘Everything’s going to be fine.’ They’d worked so hard; every eventuality had been covered. What could possibly go wrong?
Well, apart from water pipes bursting, ceilings falling in or the electrics blowing up, but now wasn’t the time to think about things like that.
Together they followed the grey and silver helicopter’s trajectory as it drew nearer, descending from a cloudless cobalt-blue sky and aiming for the landing pad in the centre of the front lawn.
Bill puffed out a lungful of air and wiped his palms with an already damp and mangled tissue. ‘Everything has to be better than fine. It needs to be perfect.’
Lainey felt his pain. Behind them, Bill’s wife was shrilly calling out to everyone to gather on the steps in order to greet their all-important guests, Downton style. Bill and Biddy, in their late fifties, were lifelong Francophiles who had made the decision two years ago to take the plunge and exchange their immaculate semi in Hounslow for a dilapidated twelve-bedroom chateau in the
Loire valley, with the aim of living the good life, enjoying the warmer weather and spectacular scenery, and socialising with like-minded expats and friendly locals alike. In order to finance the dream, the plan had been to host guests at the chateau, and hold weddings and special events there too.
In theory it had sounded like everyone’s idea of an idyllic existence, but it hadn’t turned out to be nearly as easy or as much fun as they’d envisaged. A centuries-old chateau was an always-ravenous money pit, and the small bequest left to them by Biddy’s parents had soon been swallowed up. The moment the fences were repaired, the drains collapsed. Once the leaking roof was fixed, fifty huge window frames needed replacing. No sooner were the chimneys unblocked than the ancient plumbing system disintegrated and the floorboards developed dry rot.
But Bill and Biddy had valiantly ploughed on, addressing the locals in loud mangled Franglais and getting frustrated when they were unable to make themselves understood. A year ago they’d taken on several members of staff, Lainey amongst them, and finally opened their expensively refurbished doors to paying guests.
Today’s were the most VIP visitors by far. Wyatt Hilstanton, a member of a hugely wealthy Boston banking dynasty, had relocated to London several years ago, and was arriving here with his British girlfriend, Penny, with the intention of proposing to her. It was to be the ultimate romantic surprise, and every last detail had been planned for weeks. The chateau was full of Hilstantons, who had arrived earlier and were currently hiding upstairs until it was time to celebrate.
Best of all, Wyatt’s father had booked the chateau for an entire week in August for the wedding itself.
As Lainey straightened her shoulders, footsteps sounded behind her and a hand came to rest lightly on her bottom. Turning, she glimpsed the flash of a grin before Anton raised his eyebrows in a Who, me? protestation of innocence. But his hand stayed where it was, and now it was her turn to smile. Maybe when they were off duty later tonight, they could celebrate Wyatt and Penny’s engagement in their own way.
The helicopter settled at the very centre of the landing pad. When the rotor blades had stopped turning, the guests alighted and made their way across the grass. ‘Just remember, everyone,’ Biddy murmured. ‘Be nice.’
‘Welcome, welcome to Chateau de Rafale!’ Bill pumped Wyatt’s hand in greeting and bowed, then shook Penny’s hand even more energetically and did a kind of manly curtsey. Biddy followed his lead, whilst the rest of them stood there and beamed until their cheeks ached.
Lainey studied Penny Carter, Wyatt’s girlfriend, and was relieved to see she wasn’t an obvious gold-digger type. Unless this was the nifty double bluff employed by all the most successful gold-diggers. But no, she was pretty certain that wasn’t the case here. While Wyatt was encased head to toe in Ralph Lauren, possibly a size too small for him, Penny was dressed in a white sleeveless cotton top, a plain knee-length pink skirt and sensible low-heeled espadrilles. Her hair and nails were short and unadorned. She had a pretty, heart-shaped face and a sweet smile.
‘I can’t believe how beautiful this place is,’ she marvelled. ‘I’ve never stayed in a chateau before!’
‘Everything’s ready for you,’ said Bill. ‘Let me show you upstairs to your rooms.’
‘My favourite stepson,’ Majella exclaimed with delight when she heard Seth’s voice on the phone. ‘Hello, darling! How are you?’
‘Good, thanks. I’ve just taken a look at the ad on the website.’ As always, Seth came straight to the point. ‘Did you write it?’
‘No.’ Majella was frantically searching the kitchen for her car keys. ‘I called the agency and explained what we needed, and they told me to leave it with them. Oh dear, is there a problem?’ She hadn’t spotted any errors, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any.
‘Right, let me read it out to you: “Live-in domestic couple, full-time permanent position, cleaning and organisation. Competitive salary. Cornwall.”’ Seth paused. ‘And that’s it.’
‘Oh. Is it wrong?’
‘It’s so . . . bland.’
Majella sighed. ‘I know. But that’s what those kinds of adverts are like.’
‘Remind me what you said about the couple you interviewed on Monday.’
‘They were boring.’ She pulled a face at the thought of them; they’d actually been the king and queen of boring. The prospect of having to spend her days in their company was just too awful to contemplate.
‘And have there been any more applicants since then?’
‘None.’ For goodness’ sake, where were her car keys?
‘Well that’s probably because they fell asleep reading the advert. What’s that noise?’ said Seth.
‘Sorry, just dropped the biscuit tin. I’m looking for my keys. Oh Glenda, no, that’s naughty . . .’ But she was too late: the little dog had already snaffled up two digestives and was racing out of the kitchen, her tail helicoptering with joy at the unexpected gift.
‘You need to rewrite the ad,’ Seth advised. ‘In your own words. Say what you’re really looking for and let the applicants know what they’d be getting themselves into.’
‘Ha, they’d run a mile.’
‘Just be chatty and informal and honest, like the way you used to write to me when I was at school, remember?’
‘Of course I remember.’ Warmed by the memory, Majella nodded. ‘Yes, you’re right. Thank you, darling, I’ll do it tonight. Now, d’you have any idea where I might have left my car keys?’
‘No, but the last time you couldn’t find them, you’d put them in your bra for safe keeping.’
It was ten to six. The plan was that at six o’clock, Wyatt would suggest to Penny that they go for a stroll around the grounds of the chateau before dinner. Along the way, they would ‘accidentally’ discover a tiny stone crypt tucked in amongst the trees with its old wooden door standing slightly open. Wyatt would wonder aloud what might be inside, and they would venture towards the building to find out. Then, as they entered and closed the door behind them, Penny would be greeted by the sight of dozens of candles burning like tiny stars inside glass holders, silver heart-shaped helium balloons bobbing from the ceiling and hundreds of crimson rose petals strewn on the ground.
Lainey hadn’t been so sure about the heart-shaped helium balloons, but Wyatt had insisted. Nor had she been entirely convinced by the music he’d chosen to start playing as soon as the door was closed, because in all honesty he didn’t have the best singing voice and ‘My Heart Will Go On’ was a demanding song at the best of times. But apparently it was ‘their’ song and he’d made the recording specially. And as Bill had stressed several hundred times, Wyatt’s every wish was their command.
At six on the dot, showered and changed into smart evening clothes, the couple arrived downstairs and headed outside for their pre-dinner stroll in the grounds. As soon as they’d made their way out through the front entrance, Lainey and her friend and fellow employee Kit collected together the silver ice bucket, the chilled vintage Bollinger, a silver tray and two crystal champagne flutes. Having filled the bucket with ice, they slid out through the side door of the kitchen and raced over to the crypt.
‘This bottle cost eight hundred euros,’ Kit murmured as he positioned it at an angle in the ice bucket. ‘I didn’t believe Bill when he told me. But then I googled it.’
Lainey had spent the last hour pulling petals off roses, which had made her feel like a murderer. Now she took them out of their bag and scattered them across the flagstoned floor. Above them, the helium balloons swayed in the faint breeze coming through the open door. She made sure the phone was set up on the docking station and slipped the remote control into her pocket. Right, all done. Time to escape and silently lurk behind the handily positioned stone wall to the left of the crypt.
They were joined there by Bill and Biddy. A few minutes later, they heard Penny and Wyatt making their approach. Biddy beamed excitedly at Lainey.
‘Oh hey, look at this place,’ Wyatt exclaimed. ‘Won
der what’s inside?’
‘We shouldn’t go in there.’ Penny sounded concerned. ‘It might be someone’s home or something.’
‘Honey, it’s fine, we’re not going to get into trouble. Come on, let’s take a look. Give me your hand . . .’
The group hiding behind the wall heard the door close with a heavy clunk, and Lainey pressed play on the remote control. The walls of the crypt were thick, so they couldn’t hear the music nor whatever else might be happening inside.
‘It’s so romantic,’ Biddy whispered gleefully. ‘She’s such a lucky girl! When Bill and I got engaged, we’d missed the last bus back to Swindon and were walking home in the rain. Bill said, “Oh, by the way, my mum wants to know if we’re getting hitched. What d’you reckon I should tell her?” And that was it! That was my proposal!’
Bill was laughing quietly. ‘Did the trick, though, didn’t it? You said yes. And we haven’t done too badly, have we?’
Seven minutes later, Kit said, ‘They’re taking their time. I thought they’d be out by now.’ His task was to take lots of photos when the couple emerged into the sunshine in a daze of just-engaged happiness, whilst Bill, Biddy and Lainey provided the enthusiastic applause and congratulations.
Another few minutes went by, then they heard the unmistakable sound of a champagne cork being popped.
‘At last!’ Lainey exhaled with relief, because the relatives were all assembled in the main hall back at the chateau for the next stage of the surprise.
The heavy wooden door creaked open and they launched into a frenzy of clapping and cheering, until the look of absolute horror on Penny’s face and the fact that Wyatt wasn’t with her made them realise there might not be much call for congratulations after all.
‘Oh God,’ Kit muttered. ‘Don’t say she’s shot him.’ They’d all heard the pop.
