by Jill Mansell
“So?” Jake was, typically, unconcerned. “Don’t let it bother you. Scars or no scars, she’s always been a bitch. Anyway, we’ve got a match to play.”
“And someone here has his eye on you.” Juliet gave Maddy a nudge. “You could be about to hook up.”
The last time they’d played the team from the Red Fox, Maddy had been charmed by their captain, a burly, rugby-player type named Ed. Throughout the evening they had flirted happily with each other, until last orders were called and Ed had regretfully confided that he’d love to take her out sometime, but he had a girlfriend. Which was sweet, of course, and showed he was the faithful, trustworthy type, but at the same time not what she’d wanted to hear.
Maddy glanced across at Ed now, throwing darts and pretending he didn’t know he was being watched.
“He’s already seeing someone.”
“Wrong. He sidled over when you were in the bathroom and asked if you were available.” Juliet looked smug. “Then he casually mentioned that he’d finished with his girlfriend. I think you’ve definitely made a conquest.”
Maddy wished she could feel more enthusiastic. Before, she had been quite taken with Ed, but somehow this news no longer filled her with delight. It was like seeing a great pair of Timberlands and not being able to afford them, then walking into the shop two months later with your birthday money in your purse, realizing that the yearning to own them had evaporated and that, actually, you’d much prefer a pair of fantastically sleek stiletto-heeled boots.
Oh God, was she seriously comparing Kerr McKinnon to a pair of boots?
“Come on. You’re miles away.” Jake pushed her forward. “You’re next.”
Needless to say, they lost the match. Not because Maddy’s mind wasn’t on the job, but because they invariably lost. They were the worst team in the league, the upside being that their opponents were always delighted to play them.
“Bad luck,” said Ed, joining Maddy at the bar where she was sitting with Juliet.
Spotting the glint of intent in his eye, Juliet slid off her stool and murmured, “Back in a minute.”
For a single woman with no love life of her own, Juliet was an incorrigible matchmaker. Whenever Maddy tried to interest her in a man, she simply pulled a face and said easily, “He’s nice, but not my type.”
“Hi.” Now that his way was clear, Ed said casually, “Did you hear I broke up with my girlfriend?”
“Well, yes. You told Juliet. She told me. I’m so sorry,” said Maddy. “You must be devastated.”
He looked offended. “No, no! I finished with her. Anyway, the thing is, I wondered what you were doing this weekend, Friday or Saturday night. Maybe we could go out somewhere.”
“Oh, what a shame,” Maddy said sorrowfully. “I can’t. I have to babysit my niece.”
“Both nights?”
“Both nights. Sorry.” Aware that Jake was listening behind her, she prayed he wouldn’t give her a dig in the ribs and say embarrassingly, “That’s not true.”
But Jake waited until Juliet was back from the bathroom and Ed had slunk off in defeat before saying, “Hey, Juliet, fancy a wild weekend in Paris?”
“Why?”
“Maddy’s babysitting Sophie on Friday and Saturday, so she may as well have Tiff too. That leaves you and me free to do whatever we want—brilliant restaurants, loads to drink, fabulous sex…”
“Thanks.” Juliet gave his arm a consoling squeeze. “But you’re not my type.”
Behind the bar, vigorously polishing glasses, Nuala said with frustration, “You always say that. But what kind of man do you go for? I mean, what was Tiff’s dad like?”
Since Juliet had spent the last five years not elaborating on the subject of Tiff’s father, Maddy didn’t get her hopes up.
True to form, Juliet simply smiled her dazzling, enigmatic smile.
“Oh, he was definitely my type. But he was married.”
“Enemy on the move, enemy on the move,” Jake murmured in Maddy’s ear. “Approaching at three o’clock…draw your weapons…”
Flushing, Maddy saw that Kate and Estelle had finished their meal and were heading back through the bar.
“She isn’t my enemy.”
“She may not be your enemy,” Jake whispered wickedly, “but I think you could be hers.”
As first Estelle then Kate made their way past them, Kate shot Maddy a look of disdain.
Oh, great. Maddy turned away.
“Blimey,” Nuala exclaimed as they swept out. “Did you see her face?”
The door hadn’t completely closed. It swung back open. Kate glared ferociously at Nuala, spat, “At least I’m not fat,” and slammed out again.
Visibly shaken, Nuala clutched the Guinness pump for support.
“That’s not fair! She took it completely the wrong way. I didn’t mean ‘did you see the ugly scars on her face.’ I meant ‘did you see the look on her face’! And now she’s called me fat,” wailed Nuala, who was ultrasensitive about her weight.
Feeling both guilty and relieved that it had happened to Nuala too, Maddy said, “Welcome to the club.”
Chapter 7
“I didn’t know whether we’d see you again,” said Kerr. “Come on through to my office.”
“But—”
“Seriously.” He took the coolers from her and put them on the floor next to the reception desk. “We need to talk.”
Heart in her mouth, Maddy followed him down the corridor and into his office. The desk, she noticed, was strewn with papers and three empty coffee cups. Not naturally tidy herself, Maddy was heartened by the sight of another person’s chaos. Overorganized people automatically made her feel nervous and defensive.
“Coffee?”
“Um, no thanks.”
“OK.” He paused, sat down opposite her in his swivel chair, picked up a pen, and began to tap it against the edge of the desk, probably because there wasn’t any space to tap it on the surface. Maddy was further reassured by the pen, so few people seemed to own them these days. Computer-only offices gave her the heebie-jeebies.
Kerr was looking on edge, hardly surprisingly under the circumstances. To get the conversational ball rolling, she said, “I wasn’t going to come back. I talked to my boss about it—her name’s Juliet—and she said it was up to me, but she didn’t see why your staff should be deprived of brilliant sandwiches because of something that has nothing to do with them.”
Kerr considered this, then nodded. “We should have brought the coolers in with us. They’ll be out there helping themselves to all the best ones.”
“That’s OK. You’ll love the maggot and cress baguette.” Maddy stopped and laced her fingers together; she was joking and she shouldn’t be. It was inappropriate. Nerves were getting the better of her. Anyway, who was she trying to kid? If she didn’t find him so attractive, she wouldn’t have dreamed of coming back. Putting the blame on Juliet was nothing more than a barefaced lie and she should be ashamed of herself.
The thing was, did Kerr know that?
He looked at her. “Why don’t you sit down?”
Relieved, Maddy sat.
“I’m so sorry about your sister.” Kerr came straight to the point. “There isn’t a day goes by when I don’t think about what happened. I don’t blame your parents for reacting the way they did. How is your mother, by the way?”
“She’s fine. Very well.” They were finally talking about it; Maddy resolved not to cry. “She wouldn’t be fine if she knew I was here, talking to you.”
“Even though it happened eleven years ago? And it wasn’t actually anything to do with me?”
“Sixty years wouldn’t be long enough for Marcella. You’re a McKinnon and that’s all that matters. As far as she’s concerned, you’re all beneath contempt.”
Kerr paused, digesting this statement. “But I
wasn’t even in the country when it happened. I was in the French Alps—”
“Nobody ever apologized,” Maddy blurted out. “That’s what she could never get over. Your family lived three miles away. OK, we may not have moved in the same social circles, but we knew who you were, and you knew us by sight. Then the accident happened and your family didn’t even have the decency to say sorry. No message, no letter, nothing. As if we weren’t even worth apologizing to. That’s what Mum’s never been able to get over. Well,” she amended, “that and…something else that was said.”
Sitting very still, Kerr McKinnon said, “Which was?”
“Apparently your mother was heard outside the court saying it wasn’t as if April had been normal.”
The room was silent.
Finally Kerr spoke.
“I did apologize.”
Maddy shook her head. “Nobody did. That’s what made Marcella so mad.”
“OK, listen. Before the trial, my brother’s lawyers stressed that none of us should make any attempt to contact your family. That was their number one rule. But after the trial, when Den had been sentenced, I did apologize, to your father.” Kerr waited. “At least, I tried to. He didn’t want to hear it. I came over to your house one morning when I knew you and your brother would be at school. I wanted to see Marcella as well, but she wasn’t there. I did my best to tell your father how sorry we all were, but he wouldn’t let me get more than a few words out. Basically he told me to clear off out of his sight and never come near him or his family again. I thought he was going to punch me. I’d gone there to try to make things better and all I did was make things worse. So I did what he wanted me to do and left.” Shaking his head, Kerr said, “And he never even told anyone I’d been there.”
“Never. Not a word.” Maddy wondered if she was being gullible here. Could Kerr McKinnon be spinning her a sob story?
Catching the look in her eyes, he said flatly, “You don’t believe me? It’s the truth. Ask your father.”
Maddy stared at him. “I can’t.”
“Look, it was eleven years ago. I’m not expecting him to forgive me for being a McKinnon, but he could at least admit that I went to your house that day and did my best to apologize for what happened.”
“He couldn’t,” said Maddy. “He’s dead.”
Now it was Kerr’s turn to look at her in dismay.
“God. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Clearly.”
“When did that happen?”
“Six years ago. He had a heart attack.” Maddy blinked hard. “He was only forty-four. I don’t know, life doesn’t seem fair sometimes, does it? We didn’t have any warning. Poor Marcella, as if she hadn’t already had enough to cope with.”
“Not only Marcella,” Kerr said gently.
“She’s amazing. I don’t know how she does it. We’re so lucky to have her.”
“She’s lucky to have you.”
Maddy swallowed the lump in her throat. Sympathy was the last thing she needed. “Anyway, Mum’s fine now. Three years ago she started seeing this new chap who’d just moved into the village. His name’s Vincenzo d’Agostini, he’s a master carpenter, and we all really like him. They live together now in his house on Holly Hill, and he’s only thirty-eight, so we call him ‘the boy toy.’ We keep dropping hints about wedding bells, but Mum says it’s more fun living in sin.”
For the first time that morning, Kerr smiled.
“Well, good for them. I’m glad she’s happy. And how about your brother, where’s he living now?”
Maddy began to relax. “Oh, still in Ashcombe. Jake has a seven-year-old daughter—”
“Jesus. Seven?”
“Yes, well, it wasn’t exactly planned. He and Nadine were both seventeen. She didn’t want the baby, but Marcella persuaded her to go through with the pregnancy. Actually, she paid her not to have an abortion. After Sophie was born, Nadine handed her over to Jake and took off. Jake was granted sole custody. Mum helps out, of course, but he’s brilliant with her. To be honest, I never thought he’d manage it. I expected him to get bored after a couple of months, like he did with his LEGO space station when he was eight. But it’s been seven years now, and he hasn’t gotten bored yet.”
“And you’re in Ashcombe as well. Whereabouts?”
“With Jake and Sophie. We’re still in our old house. Marcella’s the only one who’s moved out.”
“Snow Cottage,” said Kerr, remembering the name.
“The three of us,” said Maddy with a wry smile. “Not the most conventional of setups, but then our family never did specialize in being run-of-the-mill. Anyhow, it works for us. We’re happy.”
“Good,” said Kerr, and he sounded as if he meant it.
“How about you? Your family, I mean.” She felt obliged to ask but was curious too. Following the trial, Den had gone to prison. Kerr had returned to complete his university degree, then taken a job in London. Meanwhile their mother Pauline had retreated, alone, to the secluded family home midway between Ashcombe and Bath. Pauline McKinnon was rumored to have become an eccentric recluse—though Maddy had always wondered how, if she was such a recluse, anyone could possibly know she was eccentric.
“My family?” Kerr sighed. “Haven’t done as well as yours, I’m afraid. When Den was released, he moved to Australia. He wasn’t happy, couldn’t settle, drifted from job to job and from woman to woman…we lost touch over five years ago. I have no idea where he is or what he’s doing now. And as for my mother, well, she’s an alcoholic, incapable of looking after herself. I’ve hired maybe a dozen housekeeper-companions over the years, but they never stay more than a few months. Last Christmas I had to arrange for her to go into a home. That’s why I moved back to Bath. I’m going to need to sell the house to pay the nursing home fees. According to the doctors, she shouldn’t even still be alive, but apparently she has the constitution of an ox.” He paused. “Needless to say, she’s not happy either. Maybe your mother will be pleased to hear it.”
Maddy automatically opened her mouth to defend Marcella, then shut it again. He was probably right. OK, be honest—he is right. How many times had Marcella vehemently declared that she hoped the McKinnons would burn in hell?
Whereas it was, in truth, just terribly, terribly sad. Pauline McKinnon had been through the mill and had declined into alcoholism as a result. She too had been widowed when her children were young, losing her Scottish architect husband to a brain hemorrhage. And now her house had to be sold to pay her nursing home fees. She wasn’t to blame for what had happened. The accident had been a tragedy affecting more than just one family. And Kerr—Maddy truly believed him now—had attempted to apologize to her father…
“I’d better be getting on.” She rose to her feet, realizing how long they’d been closeted in his office. “My other customers will be getting restless.”
“But you’ll carry on coming here,” said Kerr. When she hesitated, he added, “I won’t always be around. I’m away in London a lot of the time, dealing with clients.”
Was that meant to be an incentive? Maddy nodded, already feeling oddly bereft at the thought of not seeing him while he was in London. “I’ll carry on.”
Another flicker of a smile. “Maybe when I get back, we could go out to dinner one evening. If you wanted to.”
He was looking at her, gauging her reaction. Maddy wondered if he had the remotest idea how she was feeling right now.
If you wanted to.
Oh, she wanted to, all right. But wanting something and actually doing it were two entirely different things. She pictured Marcella’s reaction upon discovering that she’d had a civilized conversation with a McKinnon, let alone a dinner date.
Put it this way: there’d be no roof left on Snow Cottage.
“Thanks.” Maddy hesitated. “But that might be a bit…”
Kerr r
aised his hands in acknowledgment. “OK. I know. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Oh, before you go, there’s one other thing that’s been puzzling me.”
Lovely. Something embarrassing, I hope. “What’s that?”
“On Saturday night you didn’t recognize me. On Monday morning you did. I mean, I know it was dark in the yard, but it wasn’t that dark.”
Phew. Only semiembarrassing. What a relief.
“Vanity,” said Maddy. “I’d lost one of my contacts and couldn’t bear to wear my glasses.”
“So that’s what you’re wearing now? Contact lenses? I can’t see them at all,” Kerr marveled, moving closer.
“Actually, that’s the general idea.” Maddy obligingly tilted her head, allowing him to peer into her eyes. There was that aftershave again, and the giveaway fluttering action in the pit of her stomach. OK, surely ten seconds was enough…
Shifting her gaze, she saw that Kerr hadn’t been studying her lenses at all. He was looking at her. As their eyes met, the wing-flapping of the hummingbirds in her stomach intensified. Was he going to kiss her? He wanted to, that much was for sure. And she wanted him to, and he knew she wanted him to…
It was easy, Maddy discovered, to break the spell. All you had to do was imagine Marcella bursting into the office.
Maddy took a step back and gave Kerr McKinnon a look of reproach.
“Sorry.” His smile rueful, he pushed his hair back with his fingers and shook his head. “Cheap trick.”
“Very cheap trick.”
“I couldn’t help myself.”
“Just picture my mother with a gun in her hands.”
“Right. That’s very helpful. Thanks.”
