by Anne Mather
'What's going on?' Cassandra demanded, staring at each of them in turn, and Eve felt as if they'd been caught out in some illicit assignation. Which was ridiculous.
They'd only been talking, for heaven's sake. Though she was fairly sure she looked as guilty as hell.
Jake got to his feet without concern. 'Well, let me see,' he said drily. 'Eve returned the scarf I lent her this afternoon, and I asked her how Mrs Robertson was this evening.
I offered to carry your mother downstairs again, but Eve thought that wouldn't be necessary. Then we spoke
about—'
'I don't want to hear all your conversation,' snapped Cassandra shortly, and Jake arched enquiring brows.
'No?' he said blandly. 'But I thought that was what you did want. You asked what was going on.'
Cassandra glared at him. 'And you knew exactly what I meant,' she retorted, making no attempt to mince her words. Then, as if realising they had an audience, she sucked in a frustrated breath before continuing, 'How long have you been keeping Eve company?'
Jake shrugged. 'Does it matter?'
Cassandra pursed her lips. 'You didn't think to let me know you were going downstairs?'
'I'm sorry.' There was an edge to Jake's voice now that even Eve could hear. 'I didn't realise I had to post my
whereabouts. I gather you've been looking for me. That is why you're so—put out—isn't it?'
Cassandra's teeth ground together, but short of accusing him of conspiracy, there was little she could say in her own defence. 'I thought—I thought you might have wanted to know who rang,' she said at last, turning to close the door, exposing the fact that the gown had virtually no back to speak of. Then, turning again, she posed against the dark panels. 'You usually do.'
He could have argued with her. He could have said that the only occasion he'd wanted to know who rang was when she'd answered the phone in his hotel in London.
But it wasn't worth the pleasure it would give her to put him on the defensive.
Nevertheless, he saw how her words had affected Eve.
He wasn't surprised, therefore, when she got to her feet and said she would go and see if Mrs Blackwood needed any help.
When they were alone, Cassandra covered the space between them with flattering haste. 'Thank goodness she's gone,' she exclaimed, her tone much warmer now than it had been before. She rested her hand on the unbuttoned neckline of his shirt, her fingers touching his naked skin.
'You'll never guess what's happened.'
Jake lifted his hand and used the pretext of taking her hand in his to remove it from his chest. 'So tell me,' he said lightly. He glanced across the room. 'But shall we have a drink first?'
Cassandra sighed. 'You don't understand. This is important.'
'Okay.' Jake released her hand and stepped back to hook a hip over the corner of the desk. He folded his arms.
'Go on.'
Cassandra moistened her lips. 'I've been offered a part in Evermore.' Her eyes were alight with excitement. 'Isn't that amazing?'
'And Evermore would be?'
'Oh, Jake! You must have heard of Evermore! It's one of the most successful soaps on television at the moment.'
Jake refrained from pointing out that, as an infrequent visitor to these shores, he seldom found time to watch the news on television, let alone a soap opera, however successful it might be.
But he couldn't steal her thunder, so instead he said, 'Way to go, girl! You must be excited.'
'I am.' Cassandra wrapped her arms about herself with evident satisfaction. 'So's Amy.' Jake knew Amy Lassiter was her agent. 'That was her on the phone, of course. I attended the auditions weeks ago, and I'd given up hope of hearing anything positive, but apparently the—er—the actress they initially chose has pulled out, so—'
'They chose you.'
'Yes.'
'And is it a big part?'
'Well, it's only for three episodes to begin with,' explained Cassandra equably. 'That's how they do these
things. They introduce a new character, and if he or she goes down well with the viewing public, they expand the role.'
'Ah.' Jake nodded. 'So I imagine you'll be wanting to get back to London as soon as possible?'
Which would and wouldn't suit him. But it wasn't his call.
'Amy's asked me to go back tomorrow,' admitted Cassandra, biting her lip. 'There are so many things to
arrange—contracts to sign, script conferences to attend, rehearsals and so on.' She shook her head. 'I can't believe it.'
'You're going to be very busy,' agreed Jake, aware that any feeling of relief he had at being let off the hook was tempered by the knowledge that he was unlikely to see Eve again. But then the door crashed open and
Cassandra's mother, leaning heavily on her cane, came unceremoniously into the room.
'Sorry about that,' she said. 'Lost my balance as I reached for the handle.' She pulled a wry face at Jake.
'So—what was that you were saying about being busy?' Jake had to smile at Cassandra's expression. She'd been put in the same position as she'd put Eve in earlier. 'Your daughter's landed a part in something called Evermore,' he told her smoothly. 'Here, let me help you to your chair.'
Mrs Robertson took his arm with evident relief, and their progress across the room was necessarily slow. But, after she'd subsided into the chair, she regarded her daughter with shrewd, if faded blue eyes, and said, 'Evermore, eh? Well, well, who'd have thought it?'
'Not you, apparently,' declared Cassandra shortly. She seemed undecided what to do next, and finally settled on taking the chair opposite her mother. 'Aren't you going to congratulate me? This is exactly the sort of part I've been waiting for.'
Her mother moved her shoulders in a dismissive gesture. 'I suppose this means we'll be seeing even less of
you in future.'
'Do you care?' Cassandra was bitter.
'Some of us might,' retorted her mother drily. 'But if it's what you want...'
'It is.'
'Then there's nothing more to be said. I wish you luck with it. Goodness knows, you've been out of work long enough.'
'I've been resting,' snapped Cassandra angrily. 'Honestly, Mother, I'm an actress, not a—a schoolteacher, for
God's sake!'
Jake stifled a groan. He guessed it had been unwise of her to bring Eve's occupation into the argument, and he wasn't surprised when Mrs Robertson took exception to it. 'Eve has brains, Cassie,' she said scornfully. 'Which is something no one could ever accuse you of.'
'How dare you?'
'What? You think learning a few lines and repeating them parrot fashion in front of a camera requires intelligence?'
'I think you know nothing about it.'
'I think I wouldn't want to.'
'Can I get anyone a drink?' Jake knew he had to put a stop to this before they both said something they'd regret.
'Mrs Robertson? Some wine, perhaps? Cassandra?'
His words caused a pregnant silence that was almost as hostile in its way as what had gone before. But after a few moments Cassandra's mother seemed to remember her manners, and in clipped tones she said, 'Yes, a glass of wine would be very nice. Thank you, Mr Romero.'
'No problem.' Jake blew out a relieved breath. 'Cassandra?'
'Scotch. With ice, if there is any,' she said, barely glancing in his direction, and Jake moved towards the tray of drinks with real enthusiasm.
He gave the women theirs, and then poured a stiff Scotch for himself. The single malt was smooth and sleek, and he welcomed the heat it brought to his stomach. It helped to banish the memory of the unpleasantness he'd just witnessed. He stifled another moan when Mrs Robertson spoke again. What now?
'I suppose you'll be leaving in the morning, Cassie?'
she said, and despite the coolness of her voice Jake was sure she was trying to be polite.
Cassandra didn't immediately respond, and he hoped she wasn't about to rekindle the argument. But eventually she said, civil
ly enough, 'Yes. I have to be back in London tomorrow.'
'Ah.' The old lady absorbed this with unexpected interest: 'So you'll be fairly tied up for the next few days?
What with rehearsals and such?'
Cassandra was regarding her mother warily now, and Jake didn't altogether blame her. 'I expect so, yes.'
'Hmm.' The old lady was thoughtful. 'Well, as you pointed out earlier, I know nothing about these matters,
Cassie, but I'd have thought that in the circumstances you're going to have little time to entertain Mr Romero.'
Cassandra's jaw dropped, but she quickly recovered herself. Then, her gaze moving from her mother to Jake and back again, she said tensely, 'Why should that matter to you?'
'Oh...' Mrs Robertson shrugged. 'Well, it's just that I wouldn't like Mr Romero to feel he's not welcome to stay on here if he'd like to.'
Cassandra gasped. 'You can't be serious!'
'Why not? I understand he's quite interested in the area, and unless he has some pressing business of his own in London there's no reason why he shouldn't stay and finish his holiday.'
'No!' Cassandra was on her feet now. 'I don't— Of course Jake is coming back to London with me.'
Her mother arched a provocative brow. 'Isn't it up to Mr Romero to make that decision for himself?'
'He can't. We—we drove up in his car.'
'He can always take you to Newcastle Airport. I believe there are frequent flights to London, and from your point of view it would be quicker.'
'You old witch!' Cassandra was trembling with fury.
'You think that by asking Jake to stay you'll ruin whatever happiness I have in accepting this part!'
'And your happiness is always the most important thing, isn't it?' demanded her mother coldly. 'It doesn't
matter who you hurt, who suffers because of your—your selfishness, so long as you're happy! It doesn't even occur to you that Jacob might prefer to stay here. What are you afraid of, Cassie? That Eve might steal him from under your very nose?'
Jake didn't know what Cassandra might have done then if he hadn't stepped between them. She looked mad
enough to scratch the old lady's eyes out, and, however much her mother might deserve it, he couldn't let that happen.
'Look, it's a moot point, anyway,' he said flatly. 'I can't stay on—much as I appreciate your invitation,' he added politely. 'Thanks, but I do have to get back to London myself.' He managed a rueful smile. 'Sorry.'
CHAPTER SIX
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, however, it soon became apparent that Jake wasn't fit to go anywhere.
Eve encountered him on the first-floor landing as she was about to go downstairs for breakfast, and one look at his grey face and streaming eyes was enough for her to advise him to go back to bed.
'I think you've got flu,' she said, not altogether easy in the position of surrogate doctor. 'How do you feel? You look—dreadful.'
'Gee, thanks.' Despite the humour in his tone, his voice was thick with congestion. 'But I'll be okay.' He paused before adding, 'Cassandra has to get back to town today.'
Eve knew that. Although it hadn't been mentioned during supper, her grandmother had confided Cassie's news to her when Eve had helped her up to bed.
'And do you think you're well enough to drive over three hundred miles?' she found herself asking, even
though it was really nothing to do with her. Indeed, she would feel happier when he and Cassie had gone. But he was shivering violently, in spite of the several layers of sweaters he was wearing, and she went on doggedly, 'I could always drive Cassie to the airport. She can easily get a flight to London. It only takes a little over an hour.' Jake pulled a wry face. Remembering Cassandra's reaction when her mother had made a similar suggestion the night before, he doubted she'd agree. But the truth was, he did feel bloody rotten. He could think of nothing more appealing at this moment than crawling back into his bed.
'Let's ask her, shall we?' he said, wondering how he could be sweating when he felt so cold. Perhaps it had
something to do with the fact that Eve was looking at him without any animosity at last. But he wasn't going to go there. He was in enough trouble as it was.
'Let's not,' said Eve suddenly, apparently taking the initiative. 'You go back to bed and I'll speak to Cassie
myself. I'm sure she'll understand.' 'Yeah, right.' Jake raked damp fingers through his hair.
'I wouldn't hold your breath.'
Eve pressed her lips together for a moment. Then she shook her head. 'Go back to bed, Mr Romero. I don't
think you're in any state to argue.'
Leaving him to do as she'd asked, or not, Eve hurried down the stairs to the kitchen. 'Mr Romero won't be leaving this morning after all,' she told a surprised Mrs Blackwood. 'He appears to have flu. Do we have any hot water bottles? He can't seem to stop shivering.'
'I think you'll find a couple in the cupboard there,'
directed the housekeeper, checking the bacon she had sizzling under the grill. 'So, will Miss Cassie be staying on, too?'
'I doubt it,' said Eve, filling the kettle and switching it on. 'I told you what Mrs Robertson said about Cassie
landing this part in a television series, didn't I? 1 don't think she'll risk losing that.'
'But if Mr Romero's ill...'
'Well, we'll see,' said Eve, wondering if she was being too cynical. After all, from the way she behaved Cassie obviously cared about him. But roles like this were few and far between—even if it might mean leaving Jake to the care of virtual strangers.
And she still had to persuade Cassie that taking a plane back to London was the best option, Eve reminded herself. It was going to be no easy task, she knew. Of course Cassie might refuse to go, and confound them all. And from Eve's point of view that could be the safest option of all.
Leaving Mrs Blackwood to fill the hot water bottles and take them up to Jake's room, Eve ran upstairs again to find Cassie. She hadn't been in the dining room, and unless she'd made an early-morning call on Jake—which Eve didn't even want to think about—she was probably still in her room, packing.
When she knocked, however, she didn't get quite the response she'd expected. 'Come on in, darling,' drawled Cassie, evidently mistaking her for Jake. 'I knew you couldn't wait until we got back to town.'
It was too embarrassing to open the door after that, and Eve waited outside, hoping Cassie would realise her mistake. But when the door opened the woman was standing there in nothing but a silk kimono, and that was barely fastened across her naked form.
Her reaction was predictably explosive. 'What are you doing here?' Cassie demanded. 'If you've come to try and persuade me to apologise to that old bitch, forget it! She's seen the last of me this time. I won't be coming here again.'
'Unless you're broke,' said Eve drily. She had heard Cassie say much the same thing before. 'In any case, I
haven't come to speak to you about your mother.' She paused, and then went on forcefully, 'Mr Romero's ill. He won't be able to drive you back to London today.'
Cassie's mouth dropped open. 'Jake?' she said
disbelievingly. Then, with hardly more sympathy, 'What's wrong with him?'
'I think he has flu,' said Eve, noticing the way Cassie's eyes narrowed at her words. 'He has— He looks—' She strove for a suitable word. 'Sick.'
'Are you sure this isn't some clever ploy of my mother's to keep him here?' Cassie was sceptical.
'Why should Ellie want to do that?' Eve was confused.
'Didn't she tell you she suggested he should stay on here for a few more days?'
'No.' Eve frowned. 'No, she didn't.'
'Well, she did.' Cassie was truculent. 'I wouldn't put it past her to have spiked his drink or something.
Anything to put one over on me.'
Eve sighed. 'You can't spike someone's drink with flu,' she said impatiently.
'How do you know he's ill anyway?' exclaimed Cassie suddenly. 'Have you been knocking at his door a
gain?'
'No, I haven't.' Eve was indignant. 'I met him on the landing as I was going down for breakfast. His eyes were all red and streaming, and he could hardly speak. Go and see him if you don't believe me.'
'Oh, I can't do that.' Cassie recoiled as she spoke, as if Eve was going to grab her and drag her forcibly along the corridor. She shook her head. 'I daren't risk it. I mean, I can't afford to get ill now, can I? What with getting this part and everything. If I were to get flu goodness knows what they'd do. They might even give the part to someone else.'
'I doubt that,' said Eve flatly. 'And people can't help getting ill. I'm sure they're insured against things like
this.'
'Well, I wouldn't want to take the chance,' said Cassie firmly. 'I'm sorry, of course I am, but if Jake is ill then I think I'm going to have to find some other way to get back to London.'
Eve was appalled. 'Without seeing him?'
Cassie shrugged. 'He'll understand,' she said carelessly.
'I'll phone him on his mobile when I get back to town.'
Then, with a lightning change of mood, 'You'll take me to the airport, won't you, darling? Mummy said there are regular flights to London from Newcastle.'
'Don't—don't call me darling,' said Eve harshly. But she couldn't argue with her. She'd already told Romero
that she'd take Cassie to the airport if she was willing to go. 'You'd better ring and find out when you can get a flight.'
'Oh, God!' Cassie's expression changed again. 'A flight!' She gnawed on her lower lip. 'How much do you
think that will be?'
Eve shook her head. 'About a hundred, I suppose,' she said tightly, not really wanting to continue this conversation.
But she didn't have much choice.
'A hundred pounds!' Cassie gasped. 'My God, I don't have a hundred pounds, and my credit cards are maxed out.'
Eve half turned away. 'Not my problem,' she said, just wanting to get away from her, but Cassie wouldn't let her go 'Couldn't you lend me the money, sweetie?' she asked wheedlingly, stepping out onto the landing. 'I'd pay you back. As soon as I get paid. You know I'm good for it.'
