by Jill Mansell
Her gaze veered helplessly back toward Declan, who was now chatting with Patsy. It was too late; it had happened.
She was hopelessly hooked on Declan Madison, with no way of getting herself unhooked. And it was scary, as scary as—
“Chicken!”
Coral jumped, her left knee jerking against the edge of the table so that one of the almost-empty wine bottles toppled sideways, splashing drops of red wine across the white tablecloth.
As if she weren’t already agonizingly aware of the mess she’d gotten herself into.
“Whoops.” Lily stood the bottle upright and offered Coral the platter in her other hand. “Having some chicken? Lemon on the left, bourbon on the right.”
Could she even eat anything? Coral said, “Just a small piece, thanks. I’m waiting for Dan to grill the tiger prawns.”
“Your wish is my command,” Dan called. “They’re ready. Bring your plate over here.”
And now he was plying her with enormous marinated prawns while gusts of smoke stung her eyes and she was forced to rub them, forgetting she was wearing mascara.
“Your makeup’s run.” Dan passed her one of the soft paper napkins from the pile at his side.
So of course, as Coral was blinking and dabbing beneath her eyes, Gail spotted her and came hurrying over. “Oh no, are you all right? I hope asking you about your husband didn’t upset you!” She sounded genuinely concerned. “I’m so sorry. Here, you’ve missed a bit. Let me help.”
Finally all the food was served, and everyone was seated around the table. Citronella candles flickering in silver holders were keeping the mosquitoes at bay, the music had been changed to Bastille, and Declan was popping the cork on a bottle of Perrier Jouët.
“A toast,” he said when the foaming contents had been divided among them. Everyone raised their glasses. “To new friends and old.” Declan clinked his glass against Dan’s, and everyone else followed suit.
“Four weeks ago, you’d never even heard of Stanton Langley,” Lily reminded him. “Can you believe it?”
“Four weeks ago, I’d never heard of you.” Declan grinned at her.
“I walked past the cottage yesterday,” Eddie said. “Saw all the work going on. Pretty amazing how much they’ve managed to get done in a week.”
“They’re moving fast. I’m going to be spending more time here myself, project managing.” Declan dunked a tiger prawn in saffron mayonnaise. “I’m planning to come down again next weekend and stay for the week, make sure everything keeps on course.”
“Where will you stay?” Patsy asked.
“At the cottage. It’s fine.” Declan shrugged. “We’ll have the new floor down by then. Not a problem.”
“But it wouldn’t be comfortable,” Lily protested. “Why suffer if you don’t need to? That’s just crazy. You can stay here!”
Oh no, no, please don’t. Coral pressed her knees together beneath the table to stop them from jiggling uncontrollably. Convinced she was being watched by Gail, and unable to meet anyone’s gaze, she pretended to be absorbed in batting away an insect above her head.
“Can’t he?” Lily was addressing her, clearly on a mission. “Wouldn’t that make perfect sense? Declan doesn’t need to stay in a half-finished cottage and sleep on the floor. He can stay in our spare room!”
“Oh, look, I don’t want to put you out…” Out of the corner of her eye, Coral could see Declan shaking his head, not wanting to be a nuisance. Next to him, Gail had put down her forkful of chicken. Oh, help, if she didn’t say something in the next quarter of a second, things were going to get awkward.
But she couldn’t say yes…
And she definitely couldn’t say no…
“You wouldn’t be putting us out,” Lily declared. “Of course you must stay with us!”
“Oh, this mosquito—these citronella candles aren’t working at all!” Flapping her napkin at the troublesome nonexistent insect, Coral said, “Of course he can stay. Absolutely! I won’t be here, which is a shame, but that doesn’t matter, does it?” She flashed a bright smile across the table at Declan. “You’ll have Lily to look after you.”
Lily was looking baffled. “Why won’t you be here? Where are you going?”
Deep breath. “To the South of France. Grimaud.”
“What?” Lily’s eyes widened. “You mean…that magazine piece I showed you? Really?”
“Really.” Coral nodded, light-headed with relief at having successfully removed herself from the situation that had prompted her snap decision. “Well, I need to double-check first that Marty and his brother can cover for me here, which is why I hadn’t mentioned anything yet. But I’m sure they’ll be able to do it. When you showed me the article, I remembered how much I used to enjoy it…and I suddenly realized I would like to go. So I called them this afternoon to check they still had spaces. And they have.” She gave a little shrug. “I decided I’d book a place in the course.”
In actual fact, all she’d done was sign up for the company’s newsletter, but they’d promptly emailed her with enticing prices for next week’s vacation, so with a bit of luck there were still places available. Oh well, looked like she’d better book herself in now, pronto.
“Yay, that is brilliant!” Lily clapped her hands with delight. “I’m so pleased.”
“Well, now I’m intrigued,” said Gail. “What kind of course is this?”
Coral’s shoulders had relaxed; speaking to Gail was suddenly a million times easier now the immediate danger had passed. “It’s an art course for people who want to draw and paint. I used to go when Nick was alive. They have a couple of tutors there, and it’s always really friendly and relaxed. You spend your days painting outside, then in the evenings everyone eats and socializes together. I haven’t been in one since Nick died, but when Lily showed me the magazine, I decided that the time has come.” And who knows, she thought, now that she’d been pushed into going, she might enjoy it and be glad it had happened.
“So you’re an artist.” Eddie was sounding interested. “Hidden talents.”
“Oh no, nothing like that.” Embarrassed, Coral shook her head. “I’m not very good.”
“Yes, she is,” Lily chimed in, ever loyal.
“Do you sell your work?” said Gail.
“God, no!”
Gail was looking baffled. “So why do you do it, then?”
Next to her, Declan said, “Because she enjoys painting, I imagine.”
“She gives them to friends,” said Lily defensively. “They’re brilliant.” She turned to Eddie. “The garden scene on the wall in Patsy’s living room—that’s one of Coral’s. She used to paint all the time.”
Eddie was suitably impressed. “You’re really good.”
Coral smiled at him. “It’s been almost three years since I last picked up a paintbrush, so we’ll have to see if I can still do it.”
“Oh Lord, did I sound rude? Ignore me,” Gail said. “I’ve just never been able to understand why people choose to spend hours and hours on a hobby that doesn’t bring them any financial or physical reward.” She helped herself to more rice salad. “Still, each to their own. We’re all different, aren’t we? If I’m no good at something, I don’t do it. I’d far rather play to my strengths.” She shrugged. “But that’s just me.”
Eddie’s phone began to ring, and he glanced at the screen. “Damn, it’s my manager. He wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t important. I’d better see what he wants.” Pushing back his chair and moving away from the table, he answered the call. He listened in silence for a couple of minutes, then murmured a few words and hung up. “Lily?”
Lily twisted around on her seat to look at him. “Yes?”
Coral had already sensed from Eddie’s expression that the news wasn’t good. Her stomach contracted with apprehension as she watched him rest his hand on Lily’s bare
shoulder.
“Your biological father’s name is Keir Bourne, is that right?”
Lily stared. Finally she nodded. “That’s right.”
“Sorry. He’s sold his story to one of the Sunday papers.”
Coral’s hand covered her mouth.
Lily’s eyes were huge, her face suddenly pale and tight. “You mean the one about how he behaved like an absolute bastard, dumped my mum, and never once bothered to come see me? Wow, that’s a great story.” Her voice dripped with derision. “He’s the scum of the earth, and he actually wants everyone to know it.”
Eddie exhaled. “Apparently he wants to meet you, and he needs you to hear his side of the story. He says it’s time you knew the truth.”
“We already know the truth,” said Lily.
Across the table, a glass slid out of Patsy’s hand and landed on the edge of her plate with a craaack.
Chapter 32
Twelve years ago
Stanton Langley had never looked more Christmasy, and Patsy had never felt less festive.
Why, why did stuff like this always seem to happen to her? Had she actually been a complete monster in a previous life?
Because it sometimes felt like it.
As ever, she hadn’t seen it coming. Two weeks ago, she and Alex had been a normal, happy couple, getting on as well together as any couple and looking forward to their vacation in Tenerife.
Well, Alex was still looking forward to his vacation in Tenerife, because he was on his way to the airport right now, at this very minute, with bloody Alice Sawyer, who was his brand-new girlfriend.
Instead of with her, Patsy, whom he’d so unceremoniously dumped two days ago because—get this—she was just too good for him.
Yes, he’d actually had the nerve to utter those words. Right before admitting that he was now seeing Alice, who had a far smaller brain than Patsy did but much bigger boobs.
So now here she was, in the middle of December, single once more. Not to mention despairing, disillusioned, and a tiny bit bitter. Because everyone else had an other half, and there was nothing guaranteed to make you feel lonelier at Christmas than being the only unattached person you knew.
I’m twenty-three years old, I’ve been on a diet and lost almost fifteen pounds, and I’ve bought myself the most gorgeous turquoise bikini.
Which no one is going to get to see now.
Not to mention the additional frustration that she’d taken a week’s precious annual leave from the salon and no longer had anything to do during it.
It was two o’clock in the afternoon when Patsy first noticed the man. He was sitting at a table in the window of the café, drinking coffee and gazing out at the passersby. He was in his midthirties at a guess, wearing a charcoal-gray shirt and a smart mulberry-red sweater. His hair was dark, he had nice eyes, and when he caught Patsy’s eye, he smiled slightly. Not in a creepy way, though. Just a normal friendly acknowledgment that she’d seen him and he’d seen her. When you lived in a village, it was perfectly usual to smile at strangers.
In the newsagent’s, Patsy bought a pack of chewing gum and a copy of Cosmopolitan. The headline on the cover was New Year, New You!, which seemed like an enticing idea. On her way back down the main street, she saw that the man in the mulberry sweater was still sitting there. By chance, Patsy’s stomach was rumbling, and the café happened to sell her favorite raisin buns.
As she pushed through the door—bugger the diet—the old-fashioned bell above it went ting-a-ting-a-ting and the man was smiling again, only this time to himself. Oh God, was she being too obvious? Was he laughing at her? Flushing, Patsy marched up to the counter and said, “Just a pain aux raisins please, to take away.”
When she’d paid, she turned to leave, embarrassed now and deliberately not looking at the occupant of the table by the window. Until he said, “Before you go, can I just tell you why I was smiling?”
“Fire away.” Patsy shrugged as if she wasn’t remotely interested.
“I watched one of my favorite movies on TV the other night. It’s a Wonderful Life, with James Stewart. Do you know it?”
“Yes.” Didn’t everyone on the planet know that movie?
“When you opened the door just now, the bell made the exact sound it does in the movie. Remember? Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.”
“Right.” Patsy relaxed. “Yes, it does sound a bit like that.”
“Exactly like that. And then you came in here in your red coat and shiny boots, looking all happy and Christmassy, and it was as if you were… No, never mind, I can’t say it.” He shook his head, but his eyes were twinkling.
“Well, you’re wrong anyway,” Patsy said, “if you think I’m happy. Because I can promise you I’m not.”
He sat back on his chair. “You were smiling. You looked happy.”
“Crying on the inside, though.”
“What happened?”
“The same thing that always happens. When you’re me, anyway.” She said it wryly. “It’s the case of the vanishing boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend now.”
“Seriously? His loss. Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” Patsy held her breath. What was it going to be?
“That bus shelter across the road. Is that the only stop in the village, or is there another I’ve missed?”
OK, not the question she’d expected, but easy enough to answer. “No, just that one. Why?”
He shrugged. “I’m waiting for someone. Don’t want to miss them. Can I ask you another question?”
“About the timetable? It’s not exactly Piccadilly Circus around here. We only have one bus an hour coming through.”
He inclined his head. “Actually, I was going to ask if you’d like to sit down and let me buy you a coffee.”
* * *
His name was Kevin Lester, Patsy learned. He was thirty-six years old, lived in Slough, and owned a small engineering company. He was divorced, keen on mountaineering, and partial to eating out in nice restaurants. In his spare time, he helped to raise funds for animal charities. If he didn’t work such long hours, he’d definitely have a dog. And the reason for his presence in Stanton Langley was because his eccentric Aunt Ethel had announced that she wanted to meet him here today.
“She’s as mad as a box of frogs,” he explained. “Keeps changing her surname, so we don’t even know where she’s living now. But every year or two she gets in touch and tells me where to come so we can catch up and I can make sure she’s OK. She phoned me the other evening and said I should be here this afternoon, that she’d arrive on the bus. Except she didn’t specify which bus. Par for the course with Ethel.”
“But she’ll definitely turn up?” said Patsy.
Kevin shrugged. “Might, might not. You never can tell. One time, after she didn’t arrive, she wrote to let me know she’d decided on a whim to visit Longleat instead to see if Lord Bath wanted another wife.”
“Oh God. And did he?”
“Apparently not. Anyway, tell me all about you.”
And so she did. He was a good listener, genuinely interested and asking lots of questions. Patsy told him about her unfortunate past history with boyfriends but was careful to make it fun and amusing so she didn’t sound like too much of a tragic loser. She talked about her hairdressing job in Cheltenham, the people she worked with in the salon, and her friends here in the village. And as the minutes slid by, she found herself warming to Kevin Lester more and more.
At four o’clock, they went outside at Patsy’s insistence and waited for the next bus to arrive, because if he wasn’t standing out there on the sidewalk, she explained, Aunt Ethel might just decide to stay on the bus.
“My brother’ll be on this one,” she added, “coming home from school. Just warning you now, if he sees us together and makes a smart comment, don’t take any notice.�
�
Five minutes later, the bus trundled into view. It pulled up with a discordant shriek of brakes, and the doors concertinaed open.
“Fingers crossed,” said Patsy as Kevin put on a pair of dark-rimmed spectacles. “I know, crazy,” he said, catching her look of surprise. “But if I’m not wearing them, Ethel won’t recognize me.”
Except there was no Aunt Ethel on the bus. Patsy was disappointed—she’d been looking forward to seeing what a seventy-something rejected wifelet looked like. Several of the older villagers, back from a day of Christmas shopping, climbed carefully down the steps with their collections of shopping bags. Then the schoolchildren bounced off the bus, in high spirits because it was almost the end of term and normal lessons had given way to having fun.
“Hiya!” Lily greeted Patsy with enthusiasm. “Not catching the bus, are you? What’s up? Has your car broken down?”
Patsy shook her head. “This is Kevin. I was just keeping him company while he waited for his aunt, but she isn’t on this bus. Look at the two of you,” she added, tutting at Lily and Dan. “Not even wearing coats.”
“It isn’t cold,” Lily protested, arms spread wide to prove just how warm it was.
Patsy smiled, because as a teenager she’d been exactly the same, and as if to prove that it was cold, snowflakes had begun to spiral lazily down from the darkening gray sky. “You two are a lost cause.” Turning to Kevin, she explained, “That’s my little brother, Dan.” Little brother was a joke—at fifteen he was already taller than her. “And this is Lily, who I used to babysit.”
Kevin nodded briefly and said hi in a vague way. Pausing to adjust his glasses, he added, “Been to school, then?”
Which was possibly one of the most redundant questions of all time, but some men simply didn’t know how to speak to teenagers.
“No.” Dan glanced down at his white school shirt, loosened school tie, and gray school trousers. “I’ve been scuba diving.” He jerked a thumb at Lily. “And she’s been to a costume party.”
“Don’t worry, just ignore him.” Lily shook her head sympathetically at Kevin. “He thinks he’s hilarious.”
