by Jill Mansell
It was like hearing Patsy announce that she’d been working in a sewer or down a mine. Lily said, “You? Dredging a canal? But that’s everything you hate in the world.”
“I know. I think that’s why I did it. Couldn’t afford to go anywhere nice, so I decided to do something awful instead. It seemed like the right thing to do. I suppose I wanted to punish myself.”
“Oh, Patsy. And was it better than you thought? Did it turn out to be fun after all?”
“No, it was revolting. Mud and rats and millions of mosquitoes. And the smell of it was just…eurgh.”
Grasping at straws, Lily said, “Were the other volunteers nice, though?”
“God, no, they were awful too. I was sharing a moldy two-bunk mobile home with an old hippie named Rain. You know how people always say lice prefer clean hair? Well, that turns out to be a big lie, because Rain has a headful of lice, and she hasn’t washed her hair for the last twenty-three years.”
Lily tried not to shrink away. Patsy saw her flinch, and they both burst out laughing. Oh, the joy of knowing all the bad stuff was behind them, and everything was completely back to normal. The connection between them was as strong as it had ever been.
“Where’s Declan?” Patsy looked at Dan. “You said in your text he was staying at our place with you. I thought he’d be here tonight.”
“He was going to be,” Lily explained. “But something came up this afternoon, some emergency with one of his properties, and he had to drive back to London to sort it out.” It had been so lovely having him down here all week; she’d been disappointed when he had called her earlier to tell her he was leaving and wouldn’t be able to join them this evening. She hoped the problem wasn’t too desperate. He’d sounded a bit subdued on the phone.
“He’s finished Weaver’s Cottage,” Coral said. “It’s amazing.” She shook her head. “He said he’d be quick, but we didn’t think he’d be that quick.”
“I can’t believe so much has happened while I’ve been away.” Patsy looked at Coral, then at Trent sitting beside her with his arm around her waist. “Looks like you’ve been pretty speedy yourself.”
“Hi. Trent Barrett.” With his free hand, Trent reached across the table and enthusiastically pumped Patsy’s hand. “Guilty as charged. A week ago, I went away on a painting trip and met the most amazing woman in the world.”
“Oh, don’t!” Coral was laughing and blushing.
“Don’t be modest. I’m saying it because it’s true.” Trent pulled her closer to him. “When you know, you know.” He gazed deep into Coral’s eyes. “And believe me, I know. Which makes me the luckiest man in the world.”
“You definitely are,” Patsy said with a warm smile.
Lily wanted Coral to be happy, but she couldn’t help wishing the lovey-doveyness could be dialed down a notch. She glanced sideways at Dan, who came to the rescue once more.
“Hang on, did Kyle’s family move to Liverpool after they left here? I’ve been trying to remember, and for some reason I’m thinking Merseyside.”
He wasn’t; they’d already been through this and concluded they had no idea where the family had headed. But Lily said, “Ooh, maybe you’re right.”
“Who’s this?” asked Patsy, joining in.
“We were just talking about him before you came in,” Dan explained. “Kyle, the one from school who ended up in the hospital after that accident at the Leap.”
“Oh, I remember.” Patsy nodded. “Kyle McLinehan. Poor lad, how is he now, do you know?” She paused. “What? Why are you all looking at me like that?”
Lily said, “Did you know him?”
“No.”
“But you know his name was McLenehan,” Dan said.
“Not McLenehan. McLinehan,” Patsy corrected him. “His mother came to the salon one time, not long after the accident had happened. She had a trim.”
“You remember that from ten years ago?” Dan was incredulous. “And you actually remember how to spell her surname?”
“She was a bit terrifying.” Patsy confessed. “She saw that I’d written it down wrong in the appointment book and told me off. It was like being back at school, to be honest—she made me rewrite it properly and say it out loud. But it meant I didn’t forget it. McLinehan.”
Dan already had his phone out. He tapped in the name and said, “Bloody hell.”
“What? Show me, show me.” Lily leaned across, ready to peer at whatever he’d found. Hopefully it wasn’t a news story about a poor put-upon boy going berserk and doing away with his scary mother.
She heard Dan start to laugh with relief. “Thank God for that,” he murmured, then turned his phone so she could see the screen too.
And there was a photo of Kyle McLinehan, older now of course but still instantly recognizable, wearing a racing helmet and mud-splattered jockey’s silks and with his arms held joyously aloft as he celebrated victory in the winners’ enclosure at Ascot.
“He’s a jockey,” Lily marveled as Dan scrolled on down. “He’s not in a wheelchair!”
“Not at the moment,” Dan said drily. “Listen to this…” He expanded the text and began to read aloud: “‘In the last decade, spectacular wins have been interspersed with equally dramatic injuries; in addition to suffering fractured femurs, arms, and collarbones, McLinehan had a horse land on him last year, leaving him with serious internal injuries and a fractured skull. He recovered well, however, and was back racing within months. More happily, earlier this year he and his wife welcomed the arrival of their fifth child.’”
“All those injuries,” Lily marveled.
“And five kids. Basically, Kyle doesn’t hang around.”
“If we’d known anything about horse racing, we’d have heard of him,” Lily said. Then she jumped as beneath the table and out of sight of the others, Dan gave her hand a squeeze.
He was only doing it to signal his relief that Kyle was OK, but it gave her a jolt all the same. Worse, it made her want to kiss him. Oh, help…
“Looks like he’s done all right for himself,” Patsy said. “Five children too. When his mother was telling me about him, she was absolutely convinced he was gay.”
“He’s won loads of races.” Lily was still reading the information on Dan’s phone screen. “Ha, remember how Gail was boasting at the barbecue about how she was friends with Frankie Dettori? Next time she’s down, we can boast back about knowing Kyle McLinehan.”
“Except she’s not going to be back down here.” Dan stopped abruptly. “OK, I wasn’t supposed to say that.”
“What?” Lily was puzzled. “Why not? What’s happened?”
Dan hesitated, then shrugged and said, “Oh well, it’s not like it was a proper secret.”
It wasn’t exactly reassuring to discover he wasn’t that great at keeping any kind of secret, proper or otherwise. As if the memory of their supposedly secret kiss wasn’t already preying on her mind enough. Anyway, never mind about that now. “Dan, what’s going on?”
“Declan didn’t mention it because he thought you had enough on your plate, what with the stuff with Keir going on and Patsy disappearing. But he told me last week,” said Dan. “It’s all over between him and Gail. We won’t be seeing her again.”
“Wow.” Lily was astonished. “Do we know why?” Although she had to say, they’d spent the last week with Declan, and if he was heartbroken, he’d been disguising it like a champion. Until today when he’d had to rush back to London, if anything she’d have said he seemed even more cheerful than usual.
Dan said, “It was his decision. There’s no one else involved. He just realized things weren’t right.”
“Well, I bet Gail got the shock of her life.” Lily could just picture her reaction. “She doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d expect to be finished with.”
“No one goes through life expecting to be fin
ished with,” said Dan.
Patsy said, “I do.” She made a face. “And I’m always right.”
“We’re going to find you someone nice.” Lily had already decided, while they’d been hugging each other, that this was going to be her new resolution. Turning to Coral to back her up, she said, “Aren’t we? Between us we’ll make it happen.” Because Patsy may have made mistakes in the past, but she did deserve to be happy.
Coral blinked. “Sorry. What was that? I missed it.”
“She’s miles away.” Trent laughed and, with his arm wrapped around her shoulders, gave Coral another of his overenthusiastic hugs. “Wakey wakey, pay attention, honeybun—you were daydreaming about our last night in Grimaud, weren’t you!”
Eww again; but Coral was looking embarrassed, smiling apologetically, and shifting in her seat. Plus Trent was looking smug.
So maybe he’d been right.
* * *
“OK, can I just say I wasn’t being nosy.” Patsy blurted the words out as Dan made his way back into the living room much later that night.
“About what?” Dan frowned as he put down the plate of grilled cheese he’d just made in the kitchen. Why on earth was Patsy looking at him like that?
Then he saw that she was pointing to his laptop, lying open on the coffee table between them.
“All I did was glance at the screen as I was reaching for the TV remote. By the time I realized it was your bank statement, it was too late. I’d already seen his name.”
“Whose name?” But Dan had already figured it out. And Patsy knew that he knew.
She gave him a big-sister head tilt. “Come on, you’re many things, but you’re not stupid.”
Apart from his unbelievably stupid love for Lily. Except Patsy still didn’t know about that, thank God.
She was now pointing to a transaction on the screen. “There. On Sunday the twenty-ninth of June, you made an online payment of three thousand pounds.” She paused, then said evenly, “To Keir Bourne.”
Fuck.
And the way she’d emphasized the amount made it sound like a lot.
OK, it was a lot. But it had seemed like a good idea at the time.
Dan exhaled. “I thought Lily had been through enough.”
Patsy was looking at him as if she knew better. “Just Lily?”
“OK, and you too,” he admitted. “Both of you.”
“That’s why there was no story the following Sunday. No more awful embarrassing details.”
Dan nodded.
“You paid him off.”
This was true, and he knew it had been a bad thing to do, like paying a ransom to kidnappers. But he’d wanted it to be over, had wanted Keir Bourne to go away, leave them alone, and not inflict even more pain on those whose lives he’d messed up. Bourne had been due another thousand pounds from the newspaper for the follow-up piece. When Dan had offered him two thousand to keep quiet, he had hesitated, torn but visibly tempted.
Three thousand had sealed the deal. Right there and then, in the kitchen at Goldstone House, Dan had keyed the necessary bank details into his phone and transferred the money into Keir Bourne’s account.
His parting shot had been: “And if you’re ever tempted to ask for more or renege on this agreement, think again. Because I know people who’d be only too happy to bring you to your senses. If you know what I mean.”
Needless to say, Dan didn’t know anyone, but he had uttered the words with a hopefully convincing note of threatening menace.
Keir Bourne had nodded and appeared to believe him anyway. He hadn’t been able to scuttle away fast enough, like the cockroach he was.
“Well, it was a crazy thing to do.” Patsy was looking emotional. “But thank you. So much.”
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s not mention this to Lily, OK?”
“OK.” Patsy broke into a wobbly smile, then jumped up and hugged him. “You’re not a bad brother, you know.”
“I know.”
“It’s good to be home.”
“I’m glad you’re back too.”
Patsy wiped her eyes and said hopefully, “Can I have some of your cheese on toast?”
“OK, now you’re really pushing your luck,” Dan said.
Chapter 45
It was Patsy’s birthday.
Happy birthday to meee, Patsy sang quietly in her head.
Not out loud—that would be embarrassing. And people would stare.
This morning she’d gone into work, and there’d been sparkling wine and cake. People had popped in and out to wish her many happy returns and bring her flowers. Sean and Will had given her the most beautiful Vivienne Westwood red leather purse, Lily and Coral had bought her a stunning Venetian mirror, and Dan’s present had been two tickets to see Beyoncé at London’s O2 Arena and spending the night in a glitzy four-star hotel in Canary Wharf.
She loved her friends and family so much. She also knew that it was more than she deserved.
Then at lunchtime, Kath from Derring’s Farm had come into the salon and told them about her grandson, ill in the hospital in Baltimore and desperately in need of funds to pay for life-saving surgery. Poor Kath had been in a state; she hated to ask, but they were raising money via an eBay charity auction, and if anyone had anything at all they could donate to the cause, her family would be so grateful.
Patsy had slipped home, explained the situation to Dan, and returned to the salon with the tickets for the Beyoncé-and-hotel-stay package. Kath had been overwhelmed, but Patsy had insisted. Much as she’d always longed to see Beyoncé performing live, giving her birthday present to a worthy cause made her feel better and went some way toward assuaging her continuing guilt.
The excellent news was that since Kath’s son had put the tickets up on the fund-raising page this afternoon, bidding had already reached £550.
And Patsy knew she’d done a good thing.
The time was now five to eight, and her date was due to arrive any minute. She tried hard not to wonder if doing a good thing might mean things would go well this evening in a karmic kind of way. But that wasn’t why she’d done it.
She hadn’t even meant to go on any more Internet dates. Having done a lot of serious thinking in the past few weeks, Patsy had made up her mind to alter her life and stop being so desperate. From now on, she was going to sort herself out, live life on her own terms, and knock the neediness on the head. She’d also thanked Sean and Will for their kind suggestion but explained to them that she wouldn’t be taking them up on the offer. She wanted a baby, but also important was being able to share it with someone she was truly in love with. And if she were destined to never meet the right man and remain childless…well, so what? It was what happened to thousands of women, and if they could cope with it, then so could she. It wasn’t the end of the world.
Sean and Will had been brilliant, thank goodness. They’d agreed that this was the right decision for her. And when she’d finished apologizing for having dashed their hopes, they’d told her it didn’t matter a bit, and that now they knew for sure that a family was what they wanted, there were plenty of other avenues to explore.
For now, though, as far as she herself was concerned, Patsy had made the decision to just stop thinking about it. What would be would be.
The door to the wine bar swung open, and Patsy’s stomach did its habitual anxious lurch. But it wasn’t him; it was two blond girls in skin-tight dresses and strappy heels.
His name was Rick. He was thirty-seven and an architect, and he lived right here in Cheltenham. During her fortnight away from home, she hadn’t accessed the dating site once. Having made the decision to give it up, it wasn’t until after her return to Stanton Langley that she’d seen Rick’s messages. Several of them, but not in a stalky or scary way; he’d simply wondered why she hadn’t replied to his emails.
Patsy h
ad emailed him back to explain, and he’d said, well, wasn’t that a shame; he’d missed his chance. Then he’d asked if she wouldn’t consider making an exception, just this once…and they’d fallen into a routine of exchanging jokey messages pretty much every day. Finally she’d succumbed because he’d sounded funny and genuine. And when he had set the date for this evening, she hadn’t told him it was her birthday. It wasn’t important; he didn’t need to know.
Maybe if tonight went well and they saw each other again and again, she would tell him the truth about the day of the first date, and together they’d laugh about it.
OK, getting way ahead of herself, as usual. Let’s face it, the chances were that Rick would turn up, turn out to have all sorts of annoying traits, and she’d be back home by ten o’clock all ready to start the rest of her new and improved man-free life.
The door swung open at eight o’clock on the dot, and a middle-aged couple came into the wine bar.
At three minutes past, a man arrived to collect his wife, who’d been having a drink with friends from work.
At ten past, the door opened once more to admit another couple, and this time every muscle in Patsy’s body stiffened in horror. The woman was tall and elegant, with sleek, dark hair and a prominent Roman nose that suited her high-cheekboned face.
The man was Derek.
Derek, he of the turquoise Lycra leggings and tandem obsession, whom she had last seen disappearing down the road alone on his bicycle built for two.
Except this evening he was wearing normal clothes.
Oh God, oh God, please don’t let him spot me…
But fate—or God—wasn’t that magnanimous. As Patsy attempted to study the wine menu at such close range that it was making her eyes cross, Derek stopped dead in his tracks. “Well, well, look who it is! Hello, Patsy. What are you doing here? Waiting for another blind date?” He glanced at the watch on his bony wrist and feigned concern. “Oh dear, was he meant to be here by eight? Not looking good, is it? I do hope he isn’t going to embarrass you by not turning up!”
Such a loud, carrying voice. Other people in the bar were nudging each other and whispering. Some were giving her sympathetic smiles, but others were clearly finding it hilarious. And the worst thing was, Patsy knew she absolutely deserved it.
