Maybe she could call him? Brightening at this thought, she fetched her bag, tipping the contents out onto the threadbare carpet and patting the floor until her fingertips brushed her iPhone. Yes! Almost faint with relief, she swiped the screen, only for her heart to sink when she saw that there was no reception. She couldn’t even phone him. It looked as though she was well and truly on her own. With a whimper, Angel scurried up the steps and dived into the bed, tugging the covers up to her ears. Whether her teeth were chattering with terror or cold she really didn’t know, but they could have doubled for castanets.
Angel lay in bed with her eyes screwed tightly shut. She shivered. Even her nose was going numb. In an attempt to distract herself, Angel tried to concentrate on adding up the value of the antique furniture and the ornate gilt-framed portraits – but the insistent chill seeped through her skin, into her bones, and froze her very thoughts. She tried burrowing beneath the covers but the scratchy blankets and starchy sheets were about as yielding and snuggly as granite. Besides, the bottom sheet was decidedly damp. Her icy feet had lost all sensation. Would she even make it to the morning? Somehow Angel doubted it. She’d be a blonde ice-lolly by dawn.
Just as she was contemplating jumping out of bed, wrapping herself in one of the blankets and wandering the corridors in search of Laurence like a tragic Shakespearean heroine, there was a soft rap of knuckles on the door.
“Angel?” murmured a voice into the darkness. “It’s me, Laurence. Are you awake?”
Angel could have wept with sheer relief. She didn’t think she’d ever felt as lonely as she did right then, marooned in the giant bed in the middle of the sea of holey carpet.
“Yes,” she whispered.
There was the soft padding of footfalls across the floor. Then the bed dipped to the left and seconds later she felt the solid warmth of Laurence pressed against her.
“Angel! You’re frozen!” He pulled her close against him, his hands gently rubbing her arms. His warm lips dropped butter-soft kisses onto her cheeks, her lips and her poor frozen nose. As she felt the warmth of his skin against hers, Angel began to defrost. This wasn’t difficult. Laurence’s touch turned her blood to lava.
“I’m so sorry,” he was saying. “I forget how cold it is here. I guess you get used to it when you’ve grown up with it.”
Angel nodded, but to be honest she didn’t really see how you could ever get used to the cold, or why you would even need to when there were giant cast-iron radiators and enormous fireplaces everywhere.
Then again, the way his lips were grazing her neck you could probably heat the whole of Kenniston from the fire igniting deep inside. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift away on the blissful current of his touch. The cold forgotten, she twined her arms around his neck and turned to kiss him, long and deep. It was a kiss that promised everything and for a moment Laurence kissed her back before breaking away and sighing. In the darkness she heard his breathing, just audible above the thudding of her own heart.
“I can’t do this,” he said.
Angel, whose nerve ends were crackling like popping candy, reached out to pull him back.
“Of course you can,” she said. “I want you to.”
He traced the curve of her cheek with his thumb.
“Oh, I want to, believe me. I want to very much.”
“So what are we stopping for?” Angel was beyond caring what he thought of her now. All she knew was that being this close to him, feeling his skin against hers and the promise of his mouth, was enough to make her explode. Stopping was not an option!
Laurence sighed. “We’re stopping because, Angel Evans, I like you far too much not to.” He dropped a kiss onto the top of her head and then took her hands in his. “If this is going to go any further then there can’t be any secrets between us.”
Angel’s blood chilled in an instant. Oh God. He’d found out all about her. Somebody had told him the truth: that she wasn’t a loaded Russian or MIC girl, but rather a down-on-her-luck beautician who waxed legs and lived in a caravan.
“Laurence, I don’t know what to say,” she began, but he placed a finger on her lips.
“Don’t say a word. Sweetheart, you don’t need to. Just listen.” He paused and although she couldn’t see them Angel knew those stormy eyes were brimming with concern. Then he took a deep breath.
“Angel, I haven’t been altogether honest with you…”
Chapter 34
Spending her working day in the garden at Ocean View had to be one of Andi’s favourite things about living in Cornwall. Although she had her spreadsheets and ledgers piled up in front of her, and the MacBook in its shady spot was constantly pinging with urgent emails, this hardly felt like work. Quite the opposite in fact. With every moment that passed, the kaleidoscopic estuary shifted, the waters sparkling like a thousand stars as small boats danced across the waves. Her lightly tanned skin and the freckles that dusted her nose spoke of the weeks spent outside in the fresh air and sunshine rather than the usual pallor courtesy of office strip lighting and city living.
Andi collected up a sheaf of papers that she’d found buried under the newspapers on Simon’s desk – Mel was right: he really was utterly hopeless when it came to organisation – and stacked them on her desk in a neat pile. Desk! As she fastened the documents together with a bulldog clip, Andi couldn’t help smiling at desk as a description of her present working area. Hardly! This was nothing like the hard chair and viewless desk she’d occupied back in the bad old days of Hart Frozer. Here she was seated at a large wooden table on the terrace, an enormous white sunshade opened above her, and surrounded by pots crammed with bright geraniums, waterfalls of aubrietia and psychedelic orange nasturtiums. If the sun wasn’t already bright enough, the flowers alone made Andi reach for the Oakleys that Jonty had loaned her. As the gulls called and wheeled above the lichen-speckled rooftops and the bright blue pool shimmered on the level below, she was able to whizz through Simon’s accounts and enjoy every second of this Cornish idyll. Working here, with Mel popping over to chat or the boys begging her to join them for a kick about on the lawn, was as far from the pressures of the office as a girl could possibly get, and Andi still couldn’t quite believe her luck.
She picked up another folder, smiling when she saw that Mel had slipped a note inside. Scotch eggs and salad in the fridge for lunch!! She’d already delivered a pitcher of home-made lemonade and some cookies. Mel was always thinking of Andi and leaving lunch for her and Jonty. Not that Jonty had been in evidence for the last few days. Since Jax had turned up he had made himself scarce, at sea in Ursula according to Simon or hiding out at the boatyard. Andi missed him.
Pouring some lemonade into her glass, the ice clinking against the jug, Andi thought that it was going to be a horrible shock when the summer drew to a close and the family returned to the city. She supposed that the locals would be pleased to get the town back to themselves and have some time off after the intensity of the season, but the thought of saying goodbye to Cornwall filled her with melancholy. She’d really miss her life here: the salty air, the walk into the town... She’d even miss the caravan – although bidding farewell to Gemma and Angel’s mess wouldn’t be quite so much of a hardship. To her surprise, though, Andi realised that she’d miss them both. Angel might drive her round more bends than Lewis Hamilton did his Mercedes, and Gemma had a dreadful habit of leaving crumbs everywhere for the ants to collect, but in the main they were easy to be around – and, after living with Tom, sharing a place with people who actually seemed to like her was like sinking into a warm bath. Yes, she’d miss them both once the summer was over.
But most of all she would miss Jonty…
Andi sighed and pushed her paperwork aside. This was ridiculous. It was still the height of England’s best summer for years; even as she worked bees were droning in the lavender, and the balmy morning air held none of autumn’s blackberry sharpness. There were lots of days to enjoy yet before the leaves changed their hue
s and woodsmoke filled the air. She didn’t need to worry about what was coming next. All she had to do was live in the moment and enjoy herself.
But Andi had never been very good at living in the moment, or rather she’d never been able to. There had always been something or somebody to worry about and it was probably too late to shake the habit. How hard could it be to just relax and make the most of this golden summer? Already the days were flying by as though piloted by Top Gun’s Maverick and Goose. Wasn’t it said that it’s when we’re happiest that time goes the fastest? She just needed to stop fretting and enjoy the weeks ahead.
But then what? asked a small voice that Andi usually chose to ignore. That small voice was proving to be very annoying. It was constantly whispering into her ear at the oddest and most inconvenient times. And it never seemed to take no for an answer, either.
Then I’ll have a healthier bank balance and more of a plan, she told it firmly, but the small voice just snorted disbelievingly. She would have a plan, Andi decided, and already the black hole in her current account was looking less like something Stephen Hawking would find fascinating and more like a mere crater. It was still a crater she could have done without, but at least things were moving in the right direction. That dreadful day when she’d lost her job and discovered that Tom had cleaned her out no longer felt like the end of the world. As she rested her chin in her hand and gazed across the river to Padstow, Andi reflected that Tom and Alan Eades had actually done her a huge favour. There was a simplicity to Cornish life that brought with it the mental elbowroom she had always longed for. How ironic that she’d had to let go of everything that she’d held dear in order to find it.
“Liquid! Thank God!” Jonty leaned across the table and helped himself to her glass of lemonade. Gulping back the drink in just a couple of mouthfuls, he exhaled gratefully and smiled at her. “Sorry! That was very ill-mannered of me, stealing your lemonade without even asking.”
Jonty’s face was flushed beneath his sea-salt tan, and above his powder-blue board shorts he was bare-chested. His skin was fudge smooth, the pecs well defined with just a sprinkling of dark hair tapering down to his taut stomach and the waistband of those shorts. Andi swallowed and looked away quickly. “Help yourself. You look hot.”
“I am!” He plopped down on the bench beside her and poured himself another glass of lemonade. Scooping up a handful of Mel’s cookies, he added, “I’m starving! I’ve been mowing the lawns all morning with an ancient push mower.”
“Not the old green one with the wooden handles? That was here when we used to stay!” Andi could hardly believe it. Alex Evans had huffed and puffed for about twenty minutes before giving up with the whole idea and calling in a local to do the hard graft. Physical effort wasn’t really her father’s thing, Andi reflected; nor was any kind of effort, come to think of it.
Jonty grinned, his greenish-blue eyes crinkling. “Yep, that’s the one. A relic of a bygone era and one that doesn’t make quite such a din or require extension cables. Great for the environment and my fitness but bloody exhausting.”
Andi glanced down at her own stomach ruefully. “Flexing mental muscles doesn’t have quite the same effect.”
“You look great,” he said warmly. Leaning back a little, Jonty stared at her through twinkling eyes. Andi felt hot under his scrutiny, which was odd seeing as she was seated in the shade. She looked down at the table rather than meeting his gaze. “You look different to how you did when I first met you in the paper shop.”
“Less make-up? More freckles?” she offered.
Jonty shook his head. “No, I don’t think that’s it. It isn’t a physical change. If I had to try and put my finger on it I would say that you looked softer somehow, less tense?”
She laughed. “That’s true. It’s pretty hard to be stressed living here, isn’t it?”
“Sometimes,” he agreed.
They sipped their drinks in silent companionship for a while, watching the boats buzz up and down the river and listening to the drone of the bees.
“We’ll have to go out on Ursula again,” Jonty said eventually.
Andi wasn’t so sure. “I’m not convinced about boats. Not after the last time I was on one.”
“If you must choose to go to sea with Captain Knobhead what do you expect?” he teased. “Seriously, Andi, come out on Ursula with me again. I know I’ve been a bit preoccupied lately but I really did enjoy our last trip and I know you did too. We could go down the coast a bit, see some seals and maybe a basking shark?”
“Sounds tempting,” Andi nodded, although she was still a little wary. Jonty’s reactions lately had been so odd.
“I’ll even throw in a picnic? Pasties?” He nudged her. “Some saffron buns? Go on, you know you want to!”
Andi started to laugh. “Oh, go on then. How can I resist a saffron bun?”
They were just making arrangements to meet at six (when the tide would be high and, according to Jonty, the water would be like silk), when Mel joined them on the terrace. She was looking flustered; like her brother’s, her cheeks were pink beneath her tan. Moments later the reason for this became very apparent: Jax, dressed in a floating white halter-neck, floppy hat and huge Chanel sunnies, was hard on her heels.
“Sorry to interrupt your work,” Mel said, rolling her eyes at Andi, “but Jax was very insistent she spoke to us all. Apparently she couldn’t just leave a message with me. It’s almost as though she doesn’t trust me to pass it on.”
“Darling, it’s not like that at all!” Jax declared, catching up and giving Mel a taut-lipped smile. There really was no love lost between Jonty’s sister and his ex, Andi thought. The air practically crackled with animosity. Only her good manners were stopping Mel from shoving the older woman into the infinity pool.
Jonty ran a hand across his face. Andi could feel the sparkle and excitement of only moments earlier fizzle away. “You could have just left a message up at the house.”
Jax shrugged. “Don’t be like this, Jon. If you would only answer your mobile it would make life so much easier!”
Jonty shook his head. “We’ve had this conversation already.”
“And no doubt we’ll have it again,” Jax said with a theatrical sigh. “Anyway, it makes more sense to speak to you all at once and give you these.”
She flicked her hair back from her slim shoulders then delved into her Mulberry bag to fish out two big white envelopes. One she thrust at Mel; the other she pressed on Jonty, leaning rudely across Andi and treating him to a full view of her tanned cleavage. Andi looked away. Knowing that Jax had perfect pert boobs without the help of a bra didn’t make her feel any better. Suddenly she found herself wishing that instead of wearing her cut-offs and green tee shirt she’d made more of an effort. Jax’s nails, clutching the envelope, were perfect shell-pink ovals, not short and unpainted like her own. She really had let herself go.
“I’m having a party tomorrow night!” Jax explained excitedly when nobody dived into the envelopes as she clearly had expected. “I’ve invited just about everybody who’s anybody in Rock and it’s going to be amazing. I’ve hired the same caterers who Roger Taylor had for his bash on the Helford, and I’ve got the coolest Cornish bands playing. I just wanted to invite you guys personally, seeing as we’re old friends.”
Mel snorted. She’d either been watching too much Peppa Pig or she really was cheesed off, thought Andi.
Jonty placed his invitation on the table. “I don’t really think I’m the partying kind these days.”
Jax’s perfectly plucked eyebrows shot into her blunt fringe. “But darling, you of all people should be partying! In fact, one of my reasons for throwing the party in the first place was so that you could celebrate selling—”
“That’s really kind, Jax, thanks,” Jonty interrupted hastily. The sunshine smiles had clouded over now and he stood up quickly. His arm caught the lemonade and the glassed tipped, spilling the drink all over his envelope, the ink bleeding into the cream pa
per. When he made no move to rescue it Mel scooped up the invitation and laid it out on a sunny part of the huge table. There was something really odd going on here but Andi couldn’t work out quite what. Was it just the awkwardness between two exes? It made no sense but it felt like more than this. Even Mel was looking panicked.
Jax’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh! Am I being indiscreet in front of the staff? Sorry, Jonty. I didn’t think!”
She turned to Andi and her grey eyes were so glacial that it was like peeking into a fridge. “While I’m here maybe it makes sense to offer you a bit of extra work? I could do with some help at the party, people to hand out the canapés and drinks. Would you be interested? I’d pay above minimum wage, of course!”
That puts me in my place, thought Andi. The staff. While everyone else went to the ball she’d be there to collect the glasses and stack the dirty plates. Why not scrub the grate too while she was at it? Then again, Jax’s money was as good as anyone else’s and every penny that she earned was another step closer to paying off her debts. That was why she was here in the first place, after all. Being proud wasn’t going to make Barclaycard and friends happy.
Mel looked furious. “Andi’s a PA! Not a waitress!”
“Oh, sorry,” said Jax, looking anything but apologetic. “I had no idea. I just thought it might be something she’d like to do.”
The words rather than actually be a guest, hung in the air like sparkler trails on Guy Fawkes Night. Andi waited for Jonty to say something, maybe tell his ex-girlfriend to stick her invitation somewhere dark and private, but he was silent. The teasing and excitement of earlier had totally evaporated and his hands were clutching the picnic table tightly. Whatever was between him and Jax was obviously unfinished, Andi realised. She had to get a grip. She was in Rock to sort her finances out. There was no point getting involved with anyone and even less point in being proud about what kind of work she would or wouldn’t take.
[Escape 01.0] Escape for the Summer Page 30
