by Jill Mansell
'HERE SHE IS,' MAX announced as Tilly, back from her visit to Erin, padded into the kitchen in her socks. 'Here's the girl I was telling you about.'
Tilly turned to greet the visitor and stopped in her tracks. Because there, leaning against the stove with his arms casually folded in front of him and a devastating grin spreading across his face, was one of the most disconcertingly good-looking men she'd ever seen in real life. Thickly fringed green eyes surveyed her with amusement and glossy dark hair flopped over his forehead. His face was tanned, emphasizing the whiteness of his teeth, but the teeth themselves were just imperfect enough not to have been the work of a dentist.
Phew. And he was wearing faded, paint-splashed jeans, Timberlands, and a pale brown polo shirt beneath a well-worn dusty grey vest. Pretty spectacular body too.
Max performed the introductions. 'Tilly, this is my… friend, Jack Lucas. Jack, meet Tilly Cole.'
'OK, let's just make something clear, shall we? From the word go? I'm not Max's… friend,' said Jack. 'I'm just his friend. No hesita tion, no significant emphasis. Max likes to say it that way to try and embarrass me, to make people wonder what he's insinuating. He thinks it's hilarious. Just ignore him.' Hauling himself upright, he reached forward and shook hands. 'Hi, Tilly. Good to meet you.'
'You too.' Tilly did her best to behave as if being introduced to knee-tremblingly attractive men was a daily occurrence. His handshake was warm and dry, and when she breathed in she smelled a mixture of paint, delicious aftershave, and brick dust.
'You know, something about you reminds me of something…' Letting go of her hand, Jack circled an index finger as the connection eluded him.
'Oh God, here he goes.' Max shook his head in disgust. 'You don't waste any time, do you? And talk about unoriginal. Watch out, girl,' he told Tilly. 'Next he'll be saying he's sure he's met you before, and you'll believe him and start wondering where.'
'Max, shut up. This isn't a chat-up line; it's the truth.' But Jack Lucas was laughing as he said it, making it impossible for Tilly to know whether he was telling the truth or not.
'I'm from London. We haven't met before.' If she had, Tilly knew she would definitely have remembered.
'Well, you're here now. And Max and I sometimes work to gether, so I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other.' The playful glint in his eye told her he was perfectly well aware of the double entendre. But something altogether more impressive was happening, Tilly discovered, at the same time. When he looked at her, it felt as if all his attention was focused on her; when he spoke to her, it was as if all he cared about was what she might say in return.
Neat trick.
It was also, of course, the sign of a champion seducer. Tilly could just imagine the trail of broken hearts a man like Jack Lucas must leave weeping and wailing in his wake.
At that moment the front door opened and slammed shut, and Louisa erupted into the kitchen in her navy school uniform.
'You're here!' Her eyes lit up and for a moment she hovered just over the threshold, unsure what to do. Then she rushed over and flung her arms around Tilly. 'I'm so glad!'
'Hey, how about me?' Jack was indignant. 'Are you glad I'm here too?'
'Of course I am. I'm always glad to see you.' Louisa hugged him in turn. 'Even if you do smell of paint.'
'So sorry.' He gave one of her coppery plaits a fond tweak. 'Rush job on today and we were two men down. If I'd known you were going to complain, I'd have sat back and let the others get on with the work. Anyway, you can talk,' he added, pulling a face. 'You smell of… ugh… blackcurrant.'
'Nesh's mum drove us home, she gave us some sweets. It's what kind parents do. Hi, Dad.' Louisa gave Max a kiss, then grinned over at Tilly. 'And kind Girl Fridays too, when it's their turn to pick us up from school.'
'And then you aren't hungry and you don't want your tea,' said Max.
'Dad, that's so not true. I'm hungry now! What are we having? Jack, are you staying for something to eat?'
Erk, Tilly hoped not. If cooking dinner was her job, she didn't need Jack Lucas hanging around and distracting her on her first day in the job.
'Not today. I'm out for dinner this evening.' Jack glanced at his watch. 'In fact I'd better be off, I've got tenants to see in Cheltenham first.' He turned back to Tilly, gave her that thrilling look again. 'What am I missing?'
Tilly didn't have the foggiest; she hadn't even checked the con tents of the fridge yet. 'Something fabulous.'
Jack grinned. 'I'm sure. Never mind, some other time.' Raising a hand and moving to the door, he said, 'Right, I'm off. See you soon.'
When he'd left them, Tilly said, 'Well, he thinks he's irresistible, doesn't he?'
Max looked amused. 'Jack's all right. He's a good mate. And to be fair, most of the women around here think he's pretty irresist ible too.'
'I know that kind,' said Tilly.
'He'll make a play for you, don't worry. It's up to you, but if you go for it, don't go getting your hopes up,' said Max. 'Strictly no strings, that's Jack. Bedpost? There's been that many notches there's no bedpost left.'
'Euww, Dad! Can we not talk about this?'
Max ruffled his daughter's hair. 'Sorry, pet. I'm just warning Tilly, letting her know the way things are around here.'
As if she would be attracted to Jack Lucas for one moment. Honestly, the very idea. Tilly said bluntly, 'Don't worry, I'm not planning on being anyone's notch, especially someone who uses chat-up lines like—'
The kitchen door swung open and Jack stuck his head round.
'Bloody hell, you're supposed to have gone,' said Max. 'How are we meant to talk about you behind your back if you're going to creep back and eavesdrop?'
'Sorry, sorry.' From the way Jack was grinning it was obvious he'd overheard every word. 'I was leaving, then I spotted something interesting out in the hall.' He raised an eyebrow at Tilly. 'Two in teresting things, actually.'
Tilly blinked as he reappeared in the kitchen holding the boots she'd kicked off and left by the front door five minutes ago. Were emerald-green leather cowboy boots with customized glittery heels not allowed in Roxborough? Were they against the law, perhaps? A health and safety risk? Might their glitteriness cause herds of cows to take fright and stampede through country lanes?
'I love Tilly's boots.' Louisa leapt loyally to her defense. 'They're cool.'
'I didn't say I didn't like them,' said Jack. 'I think they're very… individual. The kind of boots you might wear when you're leapfrog ging over trash cans, in fact.' He paused. 'Well, when you're trying to leapfrog over a trash can.'
Tilly's hand was already clapped to her mouth. 'You saw me?'
'Oh, I did more than see you.' His own mouth twitched. 'I shouted at you.'
She let out a squeak of dismay. 'That was your car?'
'My brand new car,' Jack emphasized. 'Only two days out of the showroom. You left grease marks all over the window.'
'I said I was sorry. It was an accident. Unlike you,' Tilly added pointedly, 'splashing me when you drove through that puddle. You did that on purpose.'
'Semi on purpose,' Jack conceded. 'It was only meant to be a little splash. Hey, I'm sorry too. But look on the bright side: at least now you know I wasn't spinning you a line.' His eyes glittered good-humoredly. 'I knew I remembered you from somewhere, I just didn't know it was from the night you ended up spread-eagled across my new car.'
'Come in, come in. Sorry my room's a mess. Dad used to moan and tell me to put things away but now he's given up. I told him there's far more important stuff for us to fight about and being untidy doesn't matter. Anyway, it feels more cozy like this.'
Louisa was sitting up in her double bed wearing purple pajamas and reading A History of the Industrial Revolution. She smelled of soap and toothpaste.
'Like doing your homework,' said Tilly. 'That's more important.'
'I'm doing it now.' Louisa beamed and waggled the school text book at her. 'Revision. It's really boring… oh no, Dad told you!'
Louisa pulled a caught-out face. 'I was only going to glance at it for five minutes. Our history test isn't till next week anyway.' She sat back, her eyes bright. 'So, do you think you're going to like it here?'
'I hope so.' Tilly sat on the edge of the bed, checking out the framed photos on top of the bookcase and deliberately not thinking about Jack Lucas. 'I like that one of you and your mum.'
'That was taken on the beach in Hawaii. We went there on holiday last year. Everyone else was tanned and glamorous.' Louisa grimaced. 'And there was me with my stupid red hair and my spindly white legs, looking like a complete dork.'
'You don't at all.' Reaching for the photo, Tilly surveyed the two of them laughing together into the camera. 'And look at your mum—she's got red hair too.'
'She's covered in fake tan. And factor fifty sunscreen. I don't know how she stands it out there in LA. I'm more of a cold-weather person. I like living here.'
Carefully, Tilly said, 'You must miss her a lot.'
Louisa shrugged. 'Yes, but when I was over there living with Mum, I missed Dad loads too. And I talk to her all the time. She's happy and work's going really well. She loves her job.'
Who wouldn't? Tilly had discovered over dinner this evening that Kaye Dineen, mother of Louisa, ex-wife of Max, and unsuc cessful British stage actress, was in fact well known in America and throughout large parts of the rest of the developed world as Kaye McKenna, one of the stars of the Emmy-garlanded TV drama series Over the Rainbow, watched by zillions of viewers each week. One lucky audition, that was all it had taken—and what all aspiring actors dream of. After eight months of rejections and with her spirits at rock bottom, Kaye's car had had a flat tire on the way to the casting director's office. By the time she'd turned up, her white dress covered in axle grease and her makeup sweated off, she was an hour and a half late. The director, seizing on her air of fragility and near-desperation, had demanded with deliberate brutality, 'Why the fuck should I see you now?' Prompting Kaye, unshed tears shimmering in her eyes, to snap back, 'Because I loved my ex-husband, my ex-husband is now gay, our daughter loves both of us, and if I don't deserve a break I don't know who the fuck does.'
Her ferocity, coupled with her cut-crystal English accent, had swung it. All the boxes were ticked and she'd secured the job on the spot. Kaye famously credited that flat tire with launching her career in the States.
'Here's a good one.' Louisa reached for another photo in a tur quoise frame, of a group of cavorting teenagers around an LA pool. 'That's me and some friends after a wedding party. You know the actress Macy Ventura? She's the main star of Mum's show. Anyway, she was getting married for the fifth time to some ancient film producer and she'd never met me but she asked my mum if I'd like to be one of her bridesmaids. So Mum said yes, that'd be cool, and we went along to meet Macy and Macy's people and the wedding coordinator.'
'And?' Tilly was frowning, wondering what the giant pink mushrooms were doing in the swimming pool.
'Oh, it was hysterical. Like when you open a present think ing it's going to be a diamond bracelet and you get a dictionary instead. Macy and the wedding guy took one look at me and started babbling all these excuses. They were horrified! I was too ginger, too pale, too freckly, too tall… basically, I was going to wreck the whole wedding, not to mention the magazine deal. The bridesmaids were wearing sugar-plum pink. Well, you can guess how I'd look in sugar-plum pink. They ended up offering me five hundred dollars to not be a bridesmaid.'
'Tell me you're joking! That's the most horrible story I ever heard.' Tilly shook her head in disbelief. 'Did you take the money?'
Louisa snorted with laughter. 'Too right I did! I never even wanted to be her bridesmaid in the first place. Especially not if it meant wearing sparkly pale pink. Anyhow, I got chatting to the other bridesmaids at the party afterwards and they were so great. As soon as I told them what Macy had done, they all took off their dresses and chucked them into the pool. I thought that was really nice of them.' Adopting an earnest Californian accent, she said, 'Like, you know, totally supportive?'
'So those are the dresses.' Tilly pointed to the floating mushrooms.
'They were proper designer ones, too. Vera Wang. They cost thousands of dollars.' Louisa giggled. 'Macy was furious.'
'Bloody hell, you're the one who should have been furious.' Tilly was outraged on her behalf. 'I can't believe you even went to the wedding after she did that to you.'
'Oh, I don't care. It's all fake. All I did was fail the audi tion.' Louisa seemed genuinely unperturbed. 'Anyway, it was a Hollywood wedding, not the proper kind. They were only married for six months.'
'Well, if I ever get married,' said Tilly, 'you can definitely be my bridesmaid.'
'Oh thank you! And when I get married you can definitely be mine.' Louisa grinned. 'If you're not too ancient by then.'
Tilly gave her a playful push. 'I've never been a bridesmaid. Never even been asked.'
'I was nearly one once. When I was nine.' Louisa yawned, tired ness catching up with her. 'That was for Jack and Rose's wedding.'
Jack? 'You mean Jack who was here this afternoon?' Ready for gossip, Tilly perked up. 'What happened? Did they cancel it at the last minute?'
'Well, they had to.'
Ooh, lovely. Eagerly Tilly said, 'Why, who finished with who?'
'Nobody. It wasn't anything like that. They would have got married,' Louisa explained, 'except they couldn't. Because Rose died.'
Chapter 7
DOWNSTAIRS IN THE LIVING room Max was uncorking a bottle of red wine.
'Here's to the end of your first day.' He clinked his glass against Tilly's. 'You haven't run screaming back to London yet. Cheers. Not too unbearable so far, then?'
'I've hardly done anything. I feel like a fraud.'
'Hey, that's because I haven't started cracking my whip yet. You'll hate the sight of me by the end of the week. Now, I've written a list of things I need you to do tomorrow. I'm off up to Oxford first thing, but any problems and you can give me a ring.' Max showed her the sheet of paper, which said:
8.00a.m. Take Lou to school.
a.m. Drop wallpaper books back to Derwyn's in Cirencester.
Buy food, cook dinner, take Betty for a walk, collect six
framed prints from Welch & Co. in Roxborough.
Pick up Lou and Nesh from school at 4.10p.m.
'That looks fine.' Tilly was finding it hard to concentrate; the revelation about Jack was rocketing around inside her head and she was longing to ask a million questions. 'Um, what would you like me to cook?'
'Oh, God knows. It does my head in, trying to think about food. The joy of having you here is that now it's your job. But we're not fussy, so don't get your knickers in a twist worrying about it. I'll be home by six,' said Max. 'And the next day you can come out with me, give me a hand with measuring up the next job.'
'Fantastic.' Tilly wondered how soon she could swing the con versation round to Jack.
'Nothing too fancy, just one of Jack's.'
Bingo!
'Actually, Lou and I were—'
'Here, I can show you the details; he left me the brochure earlier.' Max reached for a folder on the table. 'Jack's in buy-to-let, did you know that? Built up quite a portfolio over the years. He picks up properties at auction and renovates them, then I make them look great before he rents them out. Now this one, for instance, is a second-floor flat in a Victorian house in Cheltenham with a south facing living room and—'
'Lou told me about his girlfriend dying,' Tilly blurted out, no longer able to control herself. 'The week before their wedding. Lou said she drowned.'
Max paused, smiled slightly, drank some wine. Finally, he turned to look at her.
'That's right. Oh dear, and now you've joined the club. I can see i
t in your eyes.'
'What? I don't know what you mean.' But Tilly could feel herself turning red, because deep down she did know.
'The romance of it all. The tragic widower—except he isn't a widower because they didn't quite manage to get married. Sorry.' Max shook his head, his tone wry. 'Jack's one of my best friends and what happened was terrible, but it just amuses me to see the effect it has on the opposite sex. As if he isn't bloody good-looking enough to start with, and smart and successful with it. The moment women hear his history, that's it, they lose all control. It makes them want him all the more. And now it's happened to you.'
'It hasn't,' Tilly protested, redder than ever.
