by Jill Mansell
“Anyone would do the same. Well, if they’re half-decent human beings.”
“And not selfish gits,” said Eddie.
Lily watched as he reached over and touched the back of her hand, lightly brushing his fingertips across her knuckles. The physical contact sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. She held her breath, wondering what he meant by it. He was still stroking her hand and gazing into her eyes. The corners of his mouth curved up, and he murmured, “You’re definitely half-decent. At the very least.”
Her brain was all over the place. Her mouth was dry. The underlying attraction between them appeared to be swimming to the surface. All the nerve endings on the back of her hand were now so sensitive that his touch was all she could think about. When Eddie asked “What’s that?” she thought he’d found some kind of lump or a vein sticking out.
The next moment she heard footsteps outside the front door, followed by the sound of a key being fit into the lock.
Chapter 14
“Who the hell…?” Eddie was sitting up, dropping her hand.
“Only me,” said Dan as he pushed the door open. “I thought you’d be asleep by now. That’s why I didn’t phone to—Oh.”
The pregnant pause lasted a good couple of seconds until Lily smiled and said brightly, “Hi!”
“Hi.” Dan looked steadily at her, then at Eddie Tessler. “Does Patsy not live here anymore?”
“She went up to bed. We were just chatting.” Gesturing to Eddie and fairly sure her cheeks were red, Lily said, “This is, um, Eddie.”
“I know. Hello.”
“Hi,” said Eddie.
“We weren’t expecting you,” Lily babbled. “You didn’t say you were coming back. We didn’t even hear the car outside.”
“I parked farther down, under the streetlamp. We’ve been invited to a black-tie event on Monday, so I needed to pick up my dinner suit. I’ll just go get it; Anna’s waiting in the car.” As he spoke, Dan was simultaneously giving her a narrow stare and heading for the staircase.
“I’ll come up with you.” Leaping to her feet, Lily followed him, catching up as he reached his bedroom doorway.
“What’s going on?” Dan halted abruptly, as she’d known he would. The bed was unmade, Eddie’s clothes were flung over the chair, and other belongings had been scattered about.
“He’s been staying for a few days, that’s all.”
“In my bedroom? And no one thought to ask if that was OK with me?”
“It was a secret. We couldn’t let anyone else know he was here.”
“Not even the person whose room he’s been using?” Dan, whose default setting was jokey and flippant, wasn’t being jokey now. Distinctly unamused, he said, “You don’t think it might have been polite to mention it?”
“Maybe,” said Lily, “but you weren’t supposed to find out.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “A complete stranger.”
“He’s not a complete stranger, though, is he? He’s Eddie Tessler. You know who he is.”
“And I also know he’s been sleeping in my bed. With you, presumably. My God—”
“What? I’m not sleeping with him!” Whoops, was Eddie able to overhear this, downstairs? Lowering her voice, Lily hissed, “I’m not.”
“So what are you doing with him then? And what’s he doing here?”
“OK, I’m just keeping him company. He needed somewhere to stay. His PA is Rosa’s sister, and Rosa suggested here. Patsy said yes, so that’s how it happened. And no one else knows he’s here. It’s a secret.”
“Yes, yes, I get the message.” Dan sounded irritated. “You don’t have to keep saying it.” He pulled open the closet doors, removed his dinner suit and a white dress shirt, and slid a black bow tie out of the tie rack. Lily had only seen him dressed up like that once before; hardly surprisingly, he had looked amazing.
“Sorry. Don’t be cross,” she said as he closed the closet door.
Dan turned to look directly at her. “Sure you’re not having sex with him?”
Lily shook her head, glad he couldn’t tell how prickly her palms were at the thought of it. “Absolutely sure.”
“Well, make sure you don’t. Because he’ll try for it, guaranteed.”
“I’m not going to do anything,” she retorted. “Don’t be so suspicious.”
“And you, don’t be gullible.” Dan held up a warning finger. “Think about why he’s having to hide out here in the first place. Men like that just do whatever they want.”
“I think you mean men like you.” Lily softened the comment with a half smile, and this time he acknowledged the dig.
“Fine, but all the more reason to listen to me. Because I know what I’m talking about.” His phone buzzed, and he glanced at it; his latest girlfriend was notoriously impatient. “Anna’s waiting. I need to go. But just remember what I said.”
“I will.” She mimed zipping her mouth shut. “And you remember what I said too.”
They made their way downstairs, Lily marveling at Patsy’s ability to sleep through anything. Once she’d gone, you could hold a rave outside her bedroom door and she wouldn’t wake up.
“Bye.” Dan briefly raised a hand to Eddie.
“Bye,” said Eddie. “Sorry about not letting you know. And thanks for—”
“Yep, have to go.”
When Dan had left, Eddie shook his head. “He’s not going to keep this to himself.”
Unsettled by Dan’s earlier comments, Lily decided she should leave too. She reached for her bag and turned to Eddie; the least she could do was reassure him. “Don’t worry, he will.”
“Hey, you didn’t have to sound quite so appalled, by the way. Sleeping with me wouldn’t be that terrible.”
So he had overheard. And now he was making fun of her. Lily gave him a look, then quickly left before he could see that he’d made her blush.
* * *
The first paparazzi arrived the following morning, just before midday. An hour later, a couple of journalists turned up. Lily couldn’t believe it; she’d been so certain she could trust Dan to keep the secret. But she knew it hadn’t been Patsy or Coral, so who else could have given the game away? There simply wasn’t anyone else who knew. Mortified, she sent Dan a sarcastic text message and received no reply.
At two o’clock, Patsy arrived at Goldstone and found Lily out in the yard, stacking up a range of ceramic planting pots.
“Well, he’s gone.”
“Eddie?” Lily had guessed he would leave; once his cover had been blown, there’d be no reason to stay.
“Rosa’s husband came down to collect him and take him back to London. It’s going to be weird not having him around.”
“I know.” They’d enjoyed sharing the secret, keeping Eddie Tessler to themselves. “Was he cross with Dan?”
“Not really. More resigned. He said he’d had five days of peace, which was better than nothing. Oh, and he asked me to say good-bye to you too, and thanks for everything.”
“Right.” Was it silly to wish he could have called into the yard, even for just half a minute, to say good-bye? Probably, but Lily still found herself thinking it. Then again, why would he? Eddie Tessler was on his way back to London, to his movie-starry life peppered with paparazzi, glitz, and gorgeous girls from the world of celebrity. He’d been bored, and she’d provided him with a bit of undemanding company, but now he was gone. While she was stuck here, lugging heavy, dusty Victorian pots around the yard. Oh, the glamour.
“And he said good luck with finding Declan,” Patsy added. “He hopes you get to hear from him.”
She’d posted the letter on Thursday. Despite obsessively checking her emails since Friday, there’d been no reply so far.
“Yeah.” As Lily bent to lift the biggest, heaviest pot and shift it into a better position against the dryst
one wall, a huge spider made a bid for freedom and scuttled across her arm. “Me too.”
Chapter 15
The letter had disappeared.
Before Friday’s dinner party it had been there on his bed. Afterward, it was gone. Declan had looked everywhere for it without success, and the more time he spent searching, the more impatient Gail had become with him.
The more impatient she’d become with him, the more he suspected that she’d quietly disposed of the letter herself.
“So she’s the daughter of some girl you once went out with, and the mother’s been dead for years, but you still want to meet the girl. Even though she isn’t your daughter.”
“That’s right,” said Declan.
“She absolutely definitely isn’t your daughter.”
“Absolutely definitely.”
“In that case, I don’t get it. Why would you want to meet her? What’s the point?”
“I just do,” Declan reiterated. How could he even begin to explain when he barely understood it himself?
“Well, it just seems like a waste of time to me. Anyway, I’m going to be late for work. I’ll see you tonight, yes? We’ll have dinner at my place.”
He nodded, distracted. “Um…yes, fine.”
“Let’s have a nice Monday detox, shall we? Steamed fish and summer greens!”
Gail planted a mouthwashy kiss on his lips and left the house. Had she taken the letter in the hope that he would lose interest in the idea of meeting Jo’s daughter?
As he watched through the window, Declan saw her pause beside the recycling bins out on the pavement and drop something into the paper-recycling one, due to be emptied in a couple of hours’ time. Then she headed off down the road to catch the bus to work.
Feeling like a spy, Declan waited until she’d turned the corner, then left the front door unlocked and went out to check the black box. The discarded Sunday papers were in there, together with a few magazines and an assortment of junk mail. If he found Lily’s letter, that was it: the relationship with Gail would be over.
Ten minutes later, he still hadn’t found it. Carefully leafing through the pages of a British woman’s magazine that she’d put out yesterday, he was beginning to suspect that the item he’d seen her drop in the box had been the flyer for a pizza delivery company that had come through the mail slot last night. Then again, if she’d really wanted to hide the letter from him, surely she’d choose to leave it in a bin somewhere farther away from the house, so that was still a possib—
A car horn tooted, and Declan looked up as a silver 4x4 squealed to a halt beside him.
“Hiya!” Jumping out of the driver’s seat, Carly tottered onto the pavement and threw her arms around him. “Mwah, mwah. Now listen, thanks so much for Friday. We had such a great evening!”
“Our pleasure. It was good fun, wasn’t it?” Carly and her husband had been the last to head off after the dinner party. Wondering why she was here now, Declan said, “Did you leave something behind?”
“For once, no. Quite the opposite, in fact. Honestly, what am I like?” Carly’s conversations tended to be rattled out like machine-gun fire. “Well, I know what I’m like. I get a few drinks down my neck, and my brain goes AWOL. Anyway, I’ve worked out how it happened, because when I went to touch up my makeup, there was someone else in the bathroom, so I sneaked into your bedroom instead, to use a mirror, then I couldn’t find my stupid lipstick so I tipped everything out of my bag onto your bed!”
It was like finally, after days of puzzling over a fiendish crossword clue, all of a sudden realizing you’d figured out the answer.
“And then I chucked it all back in, but it wasn’t until this morning that I found I’d scooped up something else too. Completely by accident, of course. But I’m so sorry, and I do hope you haven’t been searching for it.” As she spoke, Carly was opening her bag, taking out the pale-green envelope and wincing apologetically.
“Thanks.” Declan broke into a broad smile; he wouldn’t tell her how long he’d spent trying to find it. “I wondered where it had gotten to. But it’s not a problem; I’m just glad to have it back.”
“Well, I feel terrible, but I really didn’t mean it to happen. Anyway, you’ve got it now. And I haven’t read it, I promise.”
“OK.” Declan nodded.
“Oh, who am I trying to kid? Of course I read it!” The confession came tumbling out. “Anyone who says they wouldn’t do the same is a liar. A proper letter written in real handwriting? Are you kidding? Who could resist that!”
“It’s fine, don’t worry.” Declan didn’t blame her; the chances were that he’d have done exactly the same. Interested, he said, “And what do you think I should do?”
“OK, is there even the teeniest chance that this girl’s your daughter?”
Was this the conclusion everyone was going to jump to? He shook his head. “No chance at all.”
“Well, that’s a big shame. But I still think you have to meet her,” Carly said. “She sounds so lovely! Why?” Her eyebrows rose as far as the Botox would allow. “Don’t you want to?”
“No, I really do. It’s just that Gail can’t understand why I would.”
“Can’t she? Well, maybe she’s just not that curious. Some people are; some aren’t. And it doesn’t actually have anything to do with Gail anyway, does it?”
“I suppose not.” Declan smiled. “You’re right; it doesn’t affect her. Fair enough.”
“Ah, she’s a nice girl. You make a good couple. And now I’d better go.” Carly gave him another quick kiss on the cheek and jangled her car keys. “Pilates—I’ll be in trouble if I’m late!”
Back inside the house, Declan opened his laptop and dealt with the morning emails, but his attention kept sliding back to the letter on the table next to him. Poor Gail: to think he’d suspected her of underhand practices, when all this time she’d been completely innocent. Of course she was innocent; Gail was blunt and outspoken but never underhanded.
Plus, destroying the letter wouldn’t have stopped him from making contact with Jo’s daughter anyway. He might not have been able to recall Lily’s email address, but knowing she lived in Goldstone House in Stanton Langley meant he would certainly have been able to find her. He’d already looked up the village and liked what he’d seen of it online.
But now that he had the letter back, he could even more easily send off an email and—as Lily herself had suggested—arrange for the two of them to meet, right here in London.
Declan sat back and gazed out the window. And yet…and yet, since exploring Stanton Langley via Google Earth, the idea of an email no longer seemed quite enough.
He checked his watch: it was still only eight thirty on a bright, sunny morning. Getting out of the city and heading west wasn’t out of the question. He could be there by eleven. And he had no business appointments today, no other commitments, nowhere else he categorically had to be.
Which was an unusual enough situation to feel a bit like fate.
Plus, Lily might not have specified exactly where, but she’d told him she worked in Stanton Langley…
* * *
Once he’d escaped the clogged streets of London, the journey had been smooth. By ten thirty, Declan found himself on the outskirts of the village. And then he was driving along the broad main street, lined with trees and flowers and quintessentially quirky custard-yellow stone buildings. The sky was cloudless and cobalt blue, sunlight bounced off windows, and there were plenty of people around. As one of the jewels of the Cotswolds, Stanton Langley was something of a tourist trap, and several of the shops catered to their needs.
But the place seemed to have a good feel to it, an inherent charm and warmth signaling that the residents enjoyed living there as much as outsiders loved to visit it. People were greeting each other, stopping to chat, emerging from shops, and waving to those they knew. Th
ere were a bakery, a hairdresser’s called Rafferty’s, a mini supermarket, a couple of restaurants, a tearoom, the souvenir-type businesses, and a couple of antique shops. A large pub, the Star Inn, had plenty of tables outside it and a black Labrador lying in a patch of shade close to the entrance.
Declan knew he’d slowed down, but it wasn’t until he heard an impatient bicycle bell ding-dinging behind him that he realized quite how much. Raising a hand in apology, he allowed the elderly woman to overtake him and smiled as she threw him a disparaging glance while pedaling regally by.
But he couldn’t help himself: being here felt like stepping into his computer and experiencing Google Earth brought to life. There, next to the Star Inn, was Goldstone House. And on the other side of the property, above the entrance to what he presumed was a driveway leading around to the house, was a dark-blue sign announcing in simple gold lettering: Goldstone Salvage & Treasure.
Since there was nowhere to stop, Declan kept going down the road, turned right at the end, and found a small parking lot. Accustomed to London prices, he smiled when he saw from the Pay and Display sign that leaving his car here for two hours would cost a whole pound.
He bought his ticket and headed back on foot to the main street. As he approached Goldstone House, he saw two people carrying a white wrought-iron garden table out through the gates and loading it into the back of a gray van. The man was in his sixties, the woman twenty years younger. He was overweight and gray-haired; she was slender and blond, wearing jeans and a navy T-shirt. She was talking and laughing with the man as they secured the table, tying it with blue nylon rope to the bars on the inside of the van.
When the task was completed and the blond woman turned and jumped down, Declan saw the Goldstone logo on the front of her shirt and realized that she wasn’t the man’s younger, prettier wife after all; she worked here.
She had blue eyes, swingy hair, and the kind of narrow-hipped figure so many other women could only dream of. And if she was in her late forties, there was a good chance her name was Coral.
