by Jill Mansell
‘Hot and cold chambermaids in every room, you mean?’ Daisy pleated the edge of the blue tablecloth between her fingers. ‘Your friend was the one in the wrong, you have to understand that. He made all the running with Tara. She wasn’t to blame for what happened before the wedding.’
Dev was relaxed, his smile playful. ‘You’re probably right.’
‘I am right!’
‘OK, you win. Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. All forgotten.’
Daisy was astonished. ‘Are you serious? Did you always know it was Dominic’s fault?’
Dev shrugged easily. ‘I didn’t know for sure, but I wasn’t surprised. It’s the kind of thing he’d do, I suppose.’
What?
‘But you blamed Tara! You stood in my office and argued with me. You accused her of practically seducing your precious friend! I can’t believe this!’
‘Come on,’ reasoned Dev. ‘What else could I do? When you’re someone’s best man you have to take his side.’
‘Even when he’s a complete and utter shit?’
‘Even then.’ He nodded gravely, but with a hint of a smile. ‘You defended Tara, didn’t you?’
‘Tara didn’t do anything wrong!’
‘OK, maybe not wrong. But definitely stupid. And you still defended her, because she’s your friend.’
Daisy sensed she was being backed into a hole. She felt as if she were being cross-examined in court by a rapier-tongued barrister. Of course she had sided with Tara.
Damn, she hated losing an argument.
‘It wasn’t fair, though. Tara had to take all the blame and apologize to Annabel.’
‘And I daresay it’s taught her a valuable lesson.’ Calmly, Dev added, ‘Next time, with a bit of luck, she won’t be so gullible.’
Now why did this sound so familiar? Oh yes, thought Daisy, I remember now. I’ve had to learn that lesson too.
‘So how come you and Dominic are such great friends?’ she demanded. Or was that a silly question?
‘We met at university. Shared a flat for a couple of years.’ Dev shrugged. ‘Then we went our different ways, but every so often we’d meet up. I was moving around a fair bit, but Dom’s always kept in touch.’
So they weren’t that close, Daisy guessed. Just old mates from college, one of those casual male friendships that didn’t actually mean much at all. And Dominic, no doubt, had made the effort to maintain contact because he enjoyed being able to boast that one of his oldest mates was Dev Tyzack, star of the England rugby team.
Why was she not surprised?
‘So will you invite Dominic to be your best man when you get married?’
He looked amused, aware of what she was implying.
‘Honestly? Probably not. Then again, who says I’m getting married?’ Pause. ‘Unless you’re about to make me an offer…’
Oh, those eyes. He was flirting with her now. That was definitely a flirtatious remark.
‘Been there, done that,’ Daisy responded lightly. ‘No thanks.’
Dev looked interested. ‘You were married? What happened?’
‘What can I tell you? I have truly terrible taste in men. The marriage was a disaster. It didn’t last long.’
She wasn’t about to blurt out the whole grisly story. Dev didn’t need to know. Daisy didn’t want sympathy and she certainly didn’t want him thinking she was the kind of pathetic wife who wasn’t even aware that her husband was cheating on her. It was none of his business anyway.
‘So you got rid of him,’ said Dev.
That sounded more like it! Daisy shook back her hair in the manner of a woman not to be messed with.
‘Put it this way. He’s not around anymore.’
Dev smiled his smile as their main courses arrived at the table. ‘And now you’re playing the field.’
Daisy waited until the waiter had left before saying, ‘I think that’s your specialty, isn’t it?’ because the tabloids were forever coming up with stories about Dev Tyzack and the latest girl in his life. Sometimes it seemed that every time she opened a paper, there he was with someone new on his arm.
‘I’m single. It’s allowed,’ he pointed out reasonably.
‘But these girlfriends of yours never seem to last very long.’
‘Is there some law that says they have to?’
‘No,’ said Daisy, ‘but isn’t it a bit of a shallow existence?’
Unfair, perhaps, but having a dig at Dev, quizzing him about his colorful love life, was a lot easier than discussing her own.
‘I’d call it discerning.’ Dev shrugged. ‘If I meet a girl and like the look of her, I’ll take her out because that’s how people get to know each other. But if after a week or two I realize she isn’t the one for me, I’ll end it. If I know it’s not going to work out,’ he went on easily, ‘why should I carry on seeing her? I don’t call that shallow, I call it common sense.’
Damn, so much for having a dig. Foiled again.
‘But you’re in your thirties now.’ Daisy’s raised eyebrows indicated that he was knocking on a bit. ‘And you’ve never had a long-term relationship. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you’re missing out?’
‘You mean am I worried about leading such a sad, empty life?’ Dev’s dark eyes glittered; he was clearly enjoying himself. ‘Oh dear, I know, it’s absolutely tragic. Poor me, having to go out with all these beautiful girls. Although to be honest, I have a feeling things are about to change.’ He lowered his voice slightly and leaned across the table, causing Daisy’s heart to break into a lolloping canter. ‘In fact I’m sure of it. You see, I have just met someone who’s… well, completely different. Not what I’m used to at all. And it looks as if a long-term relationship could be on the cards. It may not work out, but I really think it might. We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed and see how things go.’
Good grief, he was a smooth operator! Nor did he waste much time. Feeling a bit breathless, Daisy wondered if this was a standard Dev Tyzack chat-up line. She wasn’t going to fall for it, of course, but there was no denying he had the ability to charm the knickers off a—
The next moment it came to her in a flash. Thank God she hadn’t blushed and simpered, ‘Oh Dev, surely you don’t mean me?’
Not that she ever did simper, but still. Just blushing would have been bad enough.
Jolted back to reality in the nick of time, Daisy raised her glass of red wine and said cheerfully, ‘That’s great news. I really hope it works out for the two of you. Now, let’s have a toast.’ She beamed and clanked her glass against Dev’s. ‘To the happy couple. You and Clarissa.’
Chapter 16
They drove back to the rescue center via a pet shop in Henleaze, and stocked up on everything Clarissa would need.
‘I feel like a new father,’ said Dev, choosing the smartest dog basket, the squishiest beanbag, and the squeakiest rubber toys. ‘Black lead or red lead?’
‘The green one. Oh, and she’ll need a ball.’ Daisy was having a wonderful time following him round the shop, snatching up anything that caught her eye. ‘And dog chews. And a nice blanket—ooh, and a bowl with her name on the side in case she forgets who she is.’
‘Nobody could forget their name was Clarissa. Maybe we should change it to Tyson,’ Dev mused.
‘You can’t. You’ll give her a complex. How would you like it if I started calling you Doris?’
Dev removed the tartan blanket and king-sized box of dog chews from Daisy’s grasp. As he seized them, his hand brushed against hers, sending a zzzap of electricity up her arm.
‘Come on, let’s pay for this lot and go. She’ll be wondering where we’ve got to.’
Daisy wasn’t happy about the zzzap. She didn’t need to get involved in any zzzappy-type goings-on. Rubbing her arm to dispel the unnerving sensation, she followed Dev over to the co
unter and murmured, ‘Whatever you say, Doris.’
At the rescue center, Clarissa greeted them as if she hadn’t seen them for at least ten years. Daisy, perilously close to tears again at the thought of all the other dogs they were leaving behind, hurried Clarissa out to the car while Dev signed the last of the official papers. By the time he emerged, the pair of them were sprawled on the back seat trying out the various squeaky toys and investigating a packet of dog chocs.
‘Right. Let’s get going.’ Dev started up the car, then glanced at Daisy in the rearview mirror. ‘Are you OK to come back, see Clarissa settled into her new home?’
What, and experience a few more zzzaps? Be given the guided tour of Dev’s house in Bath? Take Clarissa for a walk, then be persuaded to stay for dinner, followed by drinks in front of the fire and an invitation to spend the night?
Was that the usual routine? An expert seduction, then maybe a couple more dates, followed by the inevitable waning of interest? And yet another fleeting relationship bites the dust, thought Daisy, wondering how many hearts he had broken in his time. After all, Dev Tyzack was hardly your average, run-of-the-mill man. Had any girl ever dumped him?
‘Actually, I won’t. If you could just drop me back at the hotel, that’d be great.’
She saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes.
‘Are you sure?’
Ha, so he’d thought she’d be up for a quickie, had he? It hadn’t occurred to him that it may have been an offer she could refuse.
For a moment Daisy was tempted to say, ‘Yes thanks, absolutely sure. You see the thing is, I don’t actually want to have sex with you.’
The trouble with that, though, was (a) it wasn’t true. The sex would undoubtedly be fantastic, it was the being cast aside bit afterwards that she didn’t relish. And (b) if she did say it, Dev would only look surprised and say, ‘Phew, steady on there, I only asked if you’d like to see how Clarissa settles in.’ Which would, in turn, (a) be embarrassing and (b) serve her right.
‘I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on.’ Daisy didn’t bother to sound too sincere.
‘Can’t it wait?’
‘And I’m seeing someone this evening.’ Probably Tara, but never mind.
‘Really? Boyfriend?’
Was he laughing at her? In the rearview mirror, Daisy couldn’t see his mouth, only his eyes. It was hard to tell.
‘Look, does it matter? I don’t bombard you with questions about your social life.’
‘Excuse me, but you already have.’ Now he was definitely laughing at her. ‘You questioned and interrogated and lectured me.’
‘I was making polite conversation. Otherwise there might have been an awkward silence.’
At that moment Clarissa scrambled off both Daisy’s lap and her pristine new tartan blanket. A mixture of delirious joy and an achingly full bladder had taken its toll and the sound of a tumultuous stream of urine hitting the leather-upholstered back seat filled the car.
‘On the whole,’ Dev sighed, ‘I think I’d have preferred the awkward silence.’
Oh no, his scarily expensive Mercedes. And now it was all trickling down behind the leather seats.
Consumed with guilt at having forced him to adopt an incontinent dog, Daisy blurted out, ‘God, I’m sorry.’
‘That’s OK.’ This time Dev really was smiling; she could tell from the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘When I heard someone weeing on the back seat, to be honest I thought it was Clarissa.’
***
‘Tara Donovan, what’s up with you? You look like a bulldog that’s just had its wisdom teeth out.’
Tara was taking her break in the staff coffee room. She glanced up at Rocky and said, ‘Thanks a lot.’
It was all right for Rocky, he was congenitally cheerful. Nothing ever got him down, not even his frequent appalling faux pas.
‘Oh, well, no, don’t get me wrong,’ Rocky hastily amended. ‘I didn’t mean you actually look like a bulldog. I just said it because you look like a bulldog might feel if it had just had its wisdom teeth pulled out. Kind of… pissed off, you know?’
‘Well, it’s very clever of you to have noticed.’ Tara flicked grumpily through the pages of last month’s Cosmopolitan, where every face was a cheerful one and the teeth were all startlingly white. ‘Because I am pissed off. In fact I’m very pissed off indeed.’
Brandishing the kettle, Rocky sloshed hot water into his mug and showered in Nescafé straight from the jar. Then he threw himself down on the sofa next to Tara, briskly ruffled his peroxide crop with the flat of his hand, and said, ‘Come on then, tell me what’s wrong. Give me all the details.’ He paused, pulling a face. ‘Just so long as it’s nothing gynecological.’
‘It’s not, don’t worry.’ Grateful for the opportunity to have a good moan, Tara chucked Cosmo aside and tucked her feet up beneath her. ‘Rocky, why am I such a failure with men? Why do they treat me like dirt?’
‘Oh, come on, you aren’t a failure. You’ve had loads of boyfriends.’ Rocky lit a cigarette and blew a smoke ring. ‘Well, a fair few.’
‘I know I have. And they always dump me. I was so used to it happening, I didn’t even question it,’ Tara wailed. ‘It didn’t occur to me that it was weird, because I’d never known any different. But now I have realized, it’s making me really miserable. I’m just a hopeless case.’
Vince, the assistant manager, stuck his head round the door. ‘Rocky? You’re needed downstairs in the bar.’
Rocky heaved a sigh of resignation. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the ninety-second coffee break.’ Stubbing out his cigarette and knocking back his toe-curlingly strong black coffee, he turned to Tara, who was looking more rejected than ever. Those pathetically slumped shoulders didn’t suit her at all.
Rocky, who had a kind heart, said, ‘Look, I’m off at seven. Why don’t you and me hit the Hollybush tonight? Have a few drinks, a game of darts, and a good old chat. Fancy that?’
Tara was touched. OK, it might not be a date, not a proper date, but it would be a damn sight better than sitting at home moping. Rocky was good company in his own rowdy, laddish way. And she could always record Emmerdale.
She dredged up a smile. That was the great thing about meeting up with someone who lived less than three hundred yards away from you. At least he couldn’t complain that you were outside his radius.
‘Sounds great,’ she told Rocky, feeling chirpier already. ‘I’ll see you there.’
***
Tara was in her bedroom trying on different pairs of earrings when she heard the phone start to ring downstairs. So it wasn’t a date, but she could still make an effort, couldn’t she? No need to turn up at the pub looking like a New Age traveler. Now, the dangly black and gold ones or the sweet little opal studs?
‘Tara? It’s for you,’ Maggie yelled up the stairs.
‘Who is it?’
‘No idea. Some chap.’
Some chap? Yay, all of a sudden she was Little Miss Popular! Definitely the black and gold dangly ones, Tara instantly decided, admiring her reflection in the dressing-table mirror and smoothing her black velvet top over her hips. Hastily squishing herself with scent—not to impress Rocky, purely to boost her own self-esteem—she clip-clopped down the stairs in her favorite black suede ankle boots.
Well, well, another phone call, this was a turn-up for the books. Maybe her luck was about to change—ooh, and Emmerdale was about to start, mustn’t forget to set the recording.
‘Tara? Hi, it’s me!’
Rocky. Mr Never-Ready-On-Time.
‘Oh, don’t tell me, let me guess, you’re running late and will I head on up there and get the first round in.’
‘Well, the thing is, something’s come up. This girl I met in Chippenham last week just rang me and invited me over to her place tonight, and I kind of said yes before rememb
ering about our game of darts.’
Tara had been reaching across the coffee table for the video remote control. She stopped in mid-stretch.
‘You kind of said yes?’
‘Well, I said yes, I suppose. But you don’t mind, do you? I mean, it was only because we were both at a loose end. I knew you’d understand. She’s really pretty. Gorgeous little figure.’
Rocky might be kind-hearted but he was also fickle and monumentally lacking in tact. He didn’t even have the grace to sound sheepish. Tara could practically hear him drooling at the prospect of the evening ahead.
The new, improved evening, needless to say.
‘OK, fine.’ Tara didn’t bother to yell at him because what would be the point? Rocky wasn’t going to change his mind. Besides, wasn’t this exactly the kind of treatment she was used to?
Annoying about the scent, though. It was a pretty pointless exercise smelling gorgeous in your own living room with no one else around to appreciate it.
‘You’re a star,’ Rocky said cheerfully. ‘I’d better be off, then. I don’t want her to think I’m standing her up.’
‘Gosh, no,’ Tara agreed, equally heartily. ‘Mustn’t do that.’
***
Maggie had spent the last two hours working her way through a mountain of hand-washing in the kitchen sink. Coming through to the living room to drape wet clothes over the radiators, she said, ‘I thought you were meeting Rocky for a drink.’
‘That was Rocky on the phone. Can’t make it after all.’ Tara forced herself to sound casual, as if it hadn’t much mattered to her either way.
‘Oh, what a shame. Still,’ Maggie said chirpily, ‘at least now you can watch Emmerdale.’
I’m twenty-seven, thought Tara, there has to be more to life.
Sadly, it appeared there was.
‘And we need to get the rest of this washing dry,’ Maggie went on. ‘You couldn’t be an angel, could you, and get the old clothes airer out of the loft?’
Chapter 17
‘It’s pretty small. I did warn you,’ said Daisy from the doorway. As the bishop no doubt once said to the actress.
