by Jill Mansell
‘Oh, I do hope so! I’m Christine, dear. I used to be Zack’s PA.’
Ellie had heard all about her. Nicknamed Crimplene Christine by Zack, her skirts invariably reacted with the nylon in her tights and petticoat, creating a build-up of static charge each time she moved. Shaking hands with her, Zack had gravely explained, was a positive health hazard. Poor Elmo had been too terrified to venture into the office.
‘Come along inside. I’m Ellie. It’s lovely to meet you,’ said Ellie. At least, it was lovely so long as she wasn’t here to ask for her old job back.
‘Ah, there it is. You still have it, thank heavens for that!’
Christine was pointing to the largest of the plants on the window ledge, some temperamental creature with bright orangey-pink flowers and glossy heart-shaped leaves that was always threatening to keel over and die.
‘This one?’ Ellie moved towards it. ‘It’s yours?’
‘Not the plant. The pot it’s in. My bossy sister gave it to me for Christmas,’ Christine explained. ‘You have no idea what she’s like. Anyway, she’s coming to London tomorrow to stay for a couple of days. Before she got off the phone this morning she said, “And I hope you’re using that lovely plant pot I gave you; it had better not be hidden away in the back of a cupboard.” Well, I’m telling you, my poor heart nearly jumped out of my throat.’ She flapped her sausage fingers in dismay. ‘For a couple of seconds I couldn’t remember for the life of me what I’d done with the thing. Then it came back to me. I’d left it here. Now look, I know it’s a bit of a cheek, but do you think Zack would mind awfully if I took it home?’
Ellie managed to reassure Christine that Zack wouldn’t mind a bit. Relieved, Christine asked chattily how she was enjoying working for him. Then she started asking how Zack was, and if he was still seeing Louisa. The next thing Ellie knew, Christine had made them both a cup of tea and settled herself down for a nice chat.
Oh well, she wasn’t rushed off her feet. She could spare ten minutes.
Christine was gratifyingly pleased to hear that the relationship with Louisa was now over. Leaning forward in her chair, she confided, ‘Always felt as if she was looking down her nose at me. I brought in some homemade shortbread one day and offered her a piece. My goodness, you’d have thought I was offering her live newts!’
Ellie warmed to her. ‘She was a bit iffy with me as well. Accused me of chasing after Zack.’
Christine’s pale eyes twinkled. ‘And were you?’
‘No!’
‘I wouldn’t blame you, mind. He’s definitely got it, hasn’t he? If I were twenty-five years younger I’d have made a play for him myself !’
Oo-er, missus. Maybe it hadn’t just been the crimplene causing those sparks to fly.
‘And how are things with you?’ Ellie changed the subject, struck by how cheerful Christine seemed. ‘Zack told me about your husband not being very well. It must be so much easier for you, not having to work full-time anymore.’
‘Well, actually, I am working.’ There was an audible crackle of static as Christine shifted in her chair and rested the saucer in her lap. ‘It was all quite fortuitous really. You see, the day care place couldn’t cope with Eric anymore. Now, I love my poor hubby to bits, but the two of us being at home together was too much. I don’t mind telling you, it’s a lonely old business. Anyway, my doctor suggested considering some respite care and I did a bit of research. We ended up going to look at a nursing home not far from us, then while we were there I happened to see a notice up on the board saying they were looking for part-time staff. Well, I spoke to the lady who runs the place and we reached an agreement. I’m working there three days a week and Eric comes along with me. And once or twice a week he stays overnight so I can go home and have an evening out, or just a rest on my own and get a proper night’s sleep. It’s working out really well, all things considered.’ Christine smiled bravely. ‘It’s nice to get to know other people in my situation. And Eric likes it too. Just because he’s losing his memory doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy other people’s company. It’s a good place, Stanshawe House. The staff are wonderful, and everyone’s so understanding. No one minds if Eric starts a game of chess then wanders off halfway through.’
Stanshawe House, Stanshawe House, why did that ring a distant bell? It only took a couple of seconds to make the connection. Should she mention it? Or keep quiet?
‘I think a friend of mine knows someone who lives there.’ For a moment Ellie couldn’t remember the surname; she had to conjure up a mental image of the painting in the flat, hanging above the mantelpiece in the living room. Having pictured it, she concentrated on the signature in the bottom right-hand corner: Martha Daines, that was it.
Christine took a sip of tea. ‘One of the residents? Who is it?’
‘Mr Daines.’
‘Henry?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Oh, my dear, I’m sorry. Didn’t your friend tell you? Henry died a few weeks ago.’
Ellie sat back. ‘Oh, right. I didn’t know. Well, that’s… sad. What happened?’
‘Nothing dramatic.’ Christine shrugged. ‘Bless his heart, he was such a dear gentle soul. He just passed away in his sleep, which isn’t the worst way to go. He wasn’t in any pain. Do you think your friend knows he’s dead?’
Ellie shook her head. Tony had called for a long chat last night and he would have mentioned it. ‘I don’t think he does.’
‘Oh my goodness, I hope I haven’t spoken out of turn.’ Looking worried, Christine said, ‘Maybe he should speak to the family… Henry’s wife…’
‘Martha.’ Ellie needed to double-check that they were talking about the same man.
‘Yes, Martha. Poor darling, she took it very hard.’
‘It must be a terrible time for her.’ Ellie nodded in agreement. ‘I’m sure he’ll do that. I’ll let him know.’
They chatted for a while longer about Zack, then Ellie lifted the plant in its blue pot and carried it outside to Christine’s little car.
‘Bye then, dear. Thanks so much for the plant. And I’m glad you’ve settled in here. Give Zack my regards.’ With an unexpected twinkle, Christine said, ‘You can give him a kiss from me, if you like.’
Which was slightly alarming, and ironic to think that Zack had hired Christine in order to be safe, when it was becoming scarily apparent that she’d had a crush on him all along.
It just went to show, no matter how unprepossessing the exterior, a flirty soul could still lie beneath.
Back inside the house, Ellie leaned against the office door and gazed at the radiator.
For quite a while.
No, it was no good, she couldn’t do it. She just wasn’t that kind of person.
Dammit.
She had to use the plastic flyswat to reach across the desk and poke around behind the radiator until the postcard from Australia slid out. On her hands and knees, Ellie retrieved it from the floor under the desk, then straightened up again and put it in Zack’s in-tray.
A loose splinter from one of the oak floorboards had managed to rip a hole in the knee of her tights, new on this morning.
Great.
This was her reward for doing the right thing.
Chapter 44
Honestly, you tried your best and sometimes everything worked out perfectly.
Other times, it all went horribly wrong.
Ellie blamed the alcohol. Or more to the point, the lack of it. When she’d invited Roo over for dinner, the plan had been to soften her up and make her realize that the time had come to give in. And a couple of bottles of Barolo might well have done the trick. Then, when the doorbell rang and Todd appeared, the metaphorical violins could start to play and in years to come they would fondly remember the night when Ellie had managed to persuade them they really should be together.
Plus, she would be a bridesmaid.
Whereas the reality, minus alcohol, meant that Roo was stone-cold sober and Todd at his wits’ end.
&
nbsp; ‘I’ll go.’ Roo put down her glass of water.
‘No.’ From the doorway, Todd shook his head. ‘I will.’
‘Can’t you both stay?’ Was this how it felt to be a relationship counselor? Filled with frustration, Ellie said, ‘Couldn’t we just have a nice evening together?’
Todd looked at Roo. ‘I’ve sent you letters and texts and emails and you’ve ignored them all. Now that I’m here, can we at least talk?’
‘About us, you mean? I’d rather not.’ Roo was breathing rapidly. ‘No point.’
The air was thick with sexual tension, like extra-crackly cellophane. Ellie said, ‘OK, how about both of you staying and not talking about any of that stuff?’ She turned to Todd. ‘You’re one of my oldest friends. And you’—she swung back to Roo—‘you’re my newest. I don’t want to be stuck in the middle. So how about we give it a try?’
Silence.
Followed by more silence. Apart from that almost-audible zing of sexual tension.
‘Please,’ Ellie tried again. ‘Because why should I be the one to suffer? Haven’t I been through enough?’
Oh yes, she could be shameless when she wanted. Jamie wouldn’t mind.
‘I can’t believe you just said that,’ said Roo.
Todd shook his head at Ellie. ‘Talk about low.’
‘Fine. Are you staying or not?’
‘I’ll stay.’
But the next couple of hours weren’t easy. The tension didn’t let up for a second. On the surface Roo and Todd were eating and talking, but their feelings for each other remained the elephant in the room.
Finally Todd cracked and said, ‘This is crazy.’ He put down his beer and said abruptly, ‘Roo, can I talk to you in the kitchen?’
‘No.’
His eyes blazed with emotion. ‘Just for one minute.’
‘Not even for one second,’ said Roo.
They glared at each other across the table. It was almost unbearable to watch. Ellie pushed back her chair and said, ‘I’m just off to the loo…’
‘Stay where you are!’ Roo blurted out.
‘Hello? I need a wee. And no’—Ellie rose to her feet—‘you’re not coming with me.’
She didn’t need a wee, but she loitered in the bathroom for a couple of minutes. Honestly, was this a ridiculous situation or what?
Finally there was a knock on the door.
‘If you’re being discreet, you can come out now,’ said Todd.
Ellie emerged from the bathroom.
The living room was empty.
‘Where is she?’
‘Gone.’
‘Oh God, I’m sorry.’ Ellie collapsed back down on her chair.
He rubbed his hand over his head. ‘She said thanks for the dinner, by the way.’
‘Right.’
Todd indicated the table, strewn with plates and the remains of the tiramisu. ‘Me too.’
‘No problem.’ She’d have the rest of it for breakfast.
‘And for doing your best. Nice try.’
‘It would have been better if it had worked.’
‘This whole business is killing me.’ Todd looked defeated.
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘I feel like Bridget bloody Jones.’ He gave a huff of annoyance and flipped the top off another bottle of beer. ‘I’m like a girl, all churned up inside. I tell you, it’s doing my head in.’
‘Same.’ Ellie nodded.
‘Do I sound like a girl?’
‘A bit.’
Todd’s lip curled. ‘If Jamie was here now, I’d never hear the last of it. Right, let’s stop.’ He mimed zipping his mouth shut. ‘No more about me. We’ll talk about you. Still going OK with Joe?’
Ellie smiled and nodded; she had been through this earlier when Roo had asked the same question. Except Todd was less likely to want to know if the sex was good.
‘We’re having fun. I feel normal again.’
‘That’s fantastic. Brilliant.’ Todd clearly meant it. ‘I can’t wait to meet him.’
They’d get on well together. Ellie nodded. ‘We’ll do it. I’ll set something up.’
Todd left at eleven. There were two things she hadn’t shared with him. The first was what she’d found out earlier today from Christine. Tony had confided in her about Martha, but Todd didn’t know about any of that, and there was no reason to tell him.
Ellie, though, felt the need to do something about it. Even if she wasn’t sure what.
She cleared the dinner table and loaded the dishwasher, then sat down on the sofa and switched on her laptop.
Sending an email to Tony was off the agenda. Telling him his lover’s husband had died would be just so wrong. If Martha had wanted him to know, she would have contacted him herself.
And she hadn’t. Of course she wouldn’t. Her guilt would be as all-consuming as her grief.
Ellie typed Martha Daines into Google and up came the link to her website.
There was the home page. There was the gallery of paintings. There was the email address.
She wrote the email straight from the heart, without stopping once.
Dearest Martha,
I have just heard, via someone who works at Stanshawe House, about the death of your husband, Henry. I’m so very sorry, please accept my deepest condolences. My father-in-law Tony is a great admirer of your work. I haven’t told him about Henry. I was married to his son Jamie, however, and do know how it feels to lose a husband, so I understand some of what you’re going through and how you might be feeling now. If you ever feel you’d like to email or speak to me, please do so at any time.
Ellie gave her phone number and home address and the link to an online forum for widows that she had found helpful last year when the grief had been at its most overwhelming. She concluded with:
Love, Ellie Kendall. P.S. I mean it about contacting me. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it does help to talk.
Then she leaned back against the sofa cushions and made Jamie walk into the living room.
‘Well? Should I send it?’
Jamie stayed by the door, his hair glinting white-blond from the light behind him in the hallway. He was wearing a pale yellow shirt and the usual jeans.
‘Go for it.’ He shrugged easily. ‘You obviously want to.’
If she tried hard enough, she could even conjure up the smell of him. ‘I know, but is it the right thing to do?’
‘Sweetheart, you want to help her. You’ve got something in common.’ Jamie paused for a moment. ‘And not just the obvious. Do it.’
By not just the obvious, he meant the burden of guilt.
He knew. Of course he knew.
Ellie pressed Send and the email went hurtling off into cyberspace. She might hear back from Martha. Or she might not.
There was now a mischievous glint in Jamie’s eyes.
‘I don’t want to talk about the other thing,’ said Ellie.
‘Sure?’
‘Quite sure, thanks.’
His grin was playful. ‘OK. But I know anyway.’
‘Well, you would.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Bye!’
Jamie left with just a hint of a jaunty swagger. Ellie closed her eyes. This was the second secret she hadn’t shared with Todd this evening. And Roo didn’t know either. It wasn’t the kind of information she would dream of passing on to anyone. Not whilst she was in a relationship, at least.
How would any self-respecting man feel if he were to find out that while he was making love to his new girlfriend, she was busy pretending he was someone else?
Chapter 45
‘Your boyfriend’s waiting outside.’
Was there a particular reason for Zack looking ever so slightly pissed off about it? Ellie checked her watch: three minutes to five.
‘He asked me what time I’d be finishing work. It’s OK if he meets me here, isn’t it?’ She heard herself sounding defensive; Zack hadn’t been in the sunniest of moods recently.
‘Is there anything else you need me to do, or can I go?’
He shot her a look of impatience mixed with a hint of an eye roll. In retaliation Ellie shut down her computer and pushed back her chair.
‘Right, well, I’ll be off then. See you tomorrow. Have a nice night!’ She flashed him an extra-bright smile to cover up for the fact that having to sidle past him in order to reach the door was having its habitual heart-galloping effect.
Evidently bored now, Zack turned his attention to the calendar on the wall as she left. ‘You too.’
Outside, Joe held out his arms and gave Ellie a huge hug.
‘I’ve been waiting for ages.’
‘I know. Zack said you were out here.’
‘I saw him at the upstairs window. Thought he might have invited me in.’
Overhead the sky was leaden and it was spitting with rain. Slightly embarrassed that Zack hadn’t asked him inside, Ellie said, ‘Sorry, he’s been a bit funny lately.’
‘Speaking of funny. There’s something I have to tell you.’
‘Oh God, is it my hair?’ She knew she shouldn’t have cut her bangs last night. Ellie’s hands went up to tug at the ends. ‘Is it crooked?’
Joe shook his head. ‘It’s not your hair. Listen, this is pretty major.’
Where was this going? Ellie couldn’t imagine. ‘Major good or major bad?’
‘Major good.’ He gazed at her in his beaky, intense way. ‘Well, I think so.’
It was raining properly now. They were standing on the pavement outside Zack’s house, getting wet. Was Zack still there, in his picky mood, watching them and wondering what was going on?
‘Come on, let’s get home.’ Ellie began to walk up the road. ‘Tell me on the way.’
‘OK.’ Joe loped alongside her, his arm around her shoulders, his baggy khaki jacket flapping at his side. ‘Here goes. I’ve just had a call from Stephen in LA.’
Stephen was the agent they’d signed with at the agency in LA. ‘And?’
‘Mac Zeller’s been in touch.’
‘Right,’ said Ellie. Mac Zeller was the producer-director who had bought his and Kaye’s film script.
