by Jill Mansell
“I didn’t wreck his marriage. It was over months ago. But we aren’t talking about this anymore, remember? Now, do you want some help with the clearing up or shall I go see Nuala?”
“I’d rather you went and saw lover boy, told him it was over.”
Thinking fast, Maddy said, “I can’t. Sundays aren’t…good.”
“You mean he spends them with his wife.” Marcella’s tone was sorrowful but tinged with triumph. “Sweetheart, what does that tell you? He’s never going to leave her!”
“He will. Just you wait.”
“Oh please, have some dignity. You deserve so much better than this.”
“I told you, I’ll stop seeing him,” Maddy insisted. “It’s just that Sundays are difficult. I will do it. I promise. Just not today.”
* * *
“We’re closed,” said Dexter. “Can’t you tell the time?”
Actually, he was looking rather attractive this morning in a disheveled celebrity-chef kind of way. Dexter might be the world’s touchiest character, but he definitely had sexy eyes. If you didn’t mind a few bags and wrinkles.
Or insults.
“I need a quick word with Nuala.” Maddy flashed him a bright smile, because Dexter didn’t scare her.
“God, another one? Hurry up then. Don’t take all day about it.” Begrudgingly, Dexter allowed her inside the pub. Raising his voice, he roared, “Nuala? Get down here, you lazy lump. Someone here to see you.”
“It’s OK. I’ll go on up.” Darting past him, Maddy headed for the staircase.
“That’s it, and make sure you close the door behind you so I can’t overhear. She’ll be dying to catch you up on all the latest news,” said Dexter with a smirk.
Maddy’s mouth went dry. “What kind of news?”
“Made a fool of herself last night at the barbecue, didn’t she? Thinks she stands a chance with that brother of yours—ha, as if he’d look twice at a great lump like her.”
Oh Lord, this didn’t sound promising. What had Jake been up to now?
Upstairs, Nuala was practicing staying upright on a pair of brand new, ludicrously high-heeled shoes. As she teetered across the living room and collapsed onto the overstuffed yellow sofa, Maddy said, “Never do that again.”
“I know. Dexter says I look like a drag queen out on a bender. I think it’s because the ankle straps are too loose.”
“Don’t give me that rubbish. Marcella was listening to that phone call. You know she mustn’t find out who I was with last night.”
“Oh, come on. Lighten up. It was just a bit of fun.” Waggling her outstretched feet, Nuala admired her impractical lilac shoes.
“Take it from me, it wasn’t fun. I almost wet myself.”
“Don’t try to blame your weak bladder on me. Anyway, how could I give anything away? I didn’t even mention his name.” Nuala looked impossibly smug. “The dreaded K word never once passed my lips. I was the soul of discretion—ooh, the sole of discretion, get it?” Kicking up her legs, she pointed to the bottom of her shoes. Delighted by her own wit she cried, “And you know I’d never give away your naughty secret. If I did that, I’d be an utter heel!”
“So what’s this I hear about you and Jake?” asked Maddy, and Nuala’s face abruptly lit up.
“Oh my God, who told you about that? Was it Jake?”
“No.” When she’d left the house this morning, Jake had still been asleep. “Your live-in lover happened to mention it.”
Nuala wriggled with delight. “In a jealous way?”
“Actually, in more of a what’s-the-silly-cow-playing-at-now sort of way.”
“That means I’ve got him worried. Anyhow, I didn’t start it. Jake was the one doing all the flirting. You know, I think he secretly really fancies me. Has he ever mentioned anything to you?”
Oh please.
“Jake’s Jake. You know what he’s like. Female plus pulse equals potential shag.” Maddy was deliberately blunt. Sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind.
“Oh well, not that I ever would, of course.” Nuala tried to hide her disappointment. “It’s just nice, sometimes, to be flirted with.”
“Instead of publicly humiliated.”
“Exactly. I mean, I know Dexter doesn’t mean it—it’s just his way—but if he sees other men chatting me up, it might make him appreciate me a bit more.”
“Hmm, maybe.” Trussing Dexter up with barbed wire and lowering him headfirst over a tank of alligators wasn’t likely to make him appreciate Nuala a bit more, but Maddy didn’t say so. For the first time, Nuala was actually acknowledging that the endless insults were starting to get her down. Since any attempt to persuade her to dump Dexter would only cause her to leap to his defense, Maddy left it at that.
“Anyway.” Brushing aside the subject of Dexter and Jake, Nuala leaned forward eagerly. “Your turn now. Tell me about last night. Was he spectacular in bed?”
Never backward in coming forward, that was Nuala.
Maddy’s childhood drama classes came flooding back.
“I didn’t sleep with him,” she protested, as convincingly as she knew how.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” crowed Nuala. “Look at your face.”
Oh well, it had been worth a try.
“OK, but you mustn’t tell anyone. Really, I mean really, really.”
Nuala nodded vigorously. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Good,” said Maddy, “because if you breathe one word about this, you will die. And that’s a promise.”
Chapter 17
Hillview was the name of the house. Maddy tensed as she reached the entrance to the property and saw, half-hidden by an overhang of ivy, the battered wooden sign.
Checking for the hundredth time that the road was empty both ahead and behind her as far as the eye could see, she turned the Saab into the bumpy driveway. Then her heart began to race as she realized the danger of being spotted was behind her now. When she’d rung Kerr on his cell phone, she’d assumed he was at home. It had come as something of a shock when he’d told her he was here instead. It had come as even more of a shock when he’d invited her over to join him.
“Come take a look at the place. I could do with a second opinion.”
Maddy shivered with a mixture of lust and trepidation. “But what if someone sees me?”
“They won’t. How can they? The house is completely hidden from the road. And, trust me, nobody ever comes here. Not even Jehovah’s Witnesses.” Kerr’s voice was persuasive, as irresistible as melted chocolate. “You’ll be quite safe, I promise.”
“OK.” Maddy had swallowed hard. As if she could say no.
Hillview. Well, it was situated on a hill and many years ago there undoubtedly had been a view, but that was before Pauline McKinnon had instructed her gardener to get planting those leylandii. Now the fiendishly fast-growing trees surrounded the house like a fortress. Intimidating but, under the circumstances, useful.
Kerr’s dark blue Mercedes was parked at the head of the drive. Pulling up behind it, Maddy exhaled slowly and gazed up at the house itself. Hillview was a rambling Victorian property built from honey-colored Bath stone, with diamond-leaded windows and steeply sloping gables. The garden was hopelessly overgrown, the window frames could do with a paint job, and the shadows cast by the towering leylandii created an air of gloom, but these were all problems that could be solved. She could just see it, advertised in Country Life. This house was eminently marketable and would fetch a good price.
The front door opened and Kerr appeared on the top step, wearing jeans and a bleached-blue rugby shirt. Feeling the tug of an invisible elastic band, Maddy jumped out of the car and raced into his outstretched arms. It might not have been the cool thing to do, but she didn’t care. Nobody had ever made her feel like this before and if she didn’t kiss him this minute, she mig
ht self-detonate.
It was no good. Kerr McKinnon was everything she’d ever wanted. Clinging to him as his tongue slid into her mouth, Maddy realized that this was what she’d been missing out on all these years. He was the elusive piece of the jigsaw making her feel, for the first time in her life, complete.
Oh God, he was electrifying. How could she ever bear to give him up?
“This is hopeless,” Kerr murmured, holding her close. “You’re meant to be putting me off you. I don’t think you’re even trying.”
“OK. Sorry.” Quick, think. What is the most off-putting thing a besotted girl could say? “I love you. I want to marry you. Can we get engaged?” whined Maddy. “Then we can live happily ever after and have lots of babies. In fact, I think I may already be pregnant…”
“Sorry, nice try. It just doesn’t seem to be doing the trick. Maybe I should show you the house.” Taking her by the hand, Kerr led the way across the shadowy hall and up the winding staircase. “I’d especially like you to see my old bedroom.”
Guessing from the look in his eyes that his intentions were—thank goodness—completely dishonorable, Maddy said innocently, “Got any etchings up there?”
“No.” Kerr gave her waist a squeeze, exploring the sensitive gap between her top and her jeans. “But I’ve got a double bed.”
* * *
Oh God in heaven, how could she ever, in a million years, get bored of an experience as indescribably stupendous as that?
“I can’t believe I’m here. In your mother’s house,” whispered Maddy when she was finally able to speak normally again. Breathe normally too, rather than pant like a dog.
“It’s where I grew up. It was my house too,” Kerr reminded her.
“I know. It feels a bit funny, though. You’d feel a bit funny if we’d just done this in my family home.”
“I’d be bloody terrified. Imagine being caught by Marcella.”
Heavenly though it would have been, they couldn’t spend the entire afternoon in bed. After a quick shower, Maddy headed downstairs, where Kerr was in the kitchen making a pot of coffee.
“OK? I’d have opened a bottle of wine, but you said you’d told Marcella you were going shopping.” He kissed Maddy on the mouth. “If you’re hungry I’ve got some stuff in the fridge.”
“I’m not hungry.” That was the great thing about new-man syndrome: it shrank your appetite to thimble-size proportions. “Marcella knows I’m seeing someone, by the way. She was dying to meet you, so I had to tell her you were married.”
“I wouldn’t have thought you were the type. A married man?” Kerr raised an eyebrow. “That’s terrible.”
“Your wife doesn’t understand you.” Maddy’s tone was reassuring. “It’s a hopeless situation. You’ve both been miserable for years and you’re on the verge of splitting up. Plus, of course, she’s a complete bitch.”
“Oh well, goes without saying. That’s all right then.”
“Marcella doesn’t think so. She isn’t thrilled. We nearly had a big fight about it.”
“But not so big a fight as if you’d told her who you were really seeing,” said Kerr. “Do I have a name, by the way?”
“No. Easier not to give you one. You’re just…married.”
“Any kids?”
“No way. I’m not that much of a cow. Although”—Maddy was struck by a thought—“maybe you could have had just one, then found out it wasn’t yours after all… Oh well, never mind, too late now. Anyway, let’s not talk about Marcella. When are you going to put this place on the market?”
“Well, that’s one of the reasons I asked you to come over and see it. One of the reasons,” Kerr said with a smile. “You see, I had a word with my bank manager yesterday. Business is good at the agency and I may not need to sell the house after all. I can take out a second mortgage, which would cover the nursing home fees. That way, my mother’s taken care of and I could move out of that apartment. Live here instead.”
Here. Hell. Good grief.
“Well?” prompted Kerr. “What d’you think?”
Maddy shook her head. She didn’t know what to think. It all depended on how their relationship panned out, didn’t it? Because secretly seeing each other and hoping to God that the novelty would wear off and that sooner or later they’d call it a day was all very well, but the chances of it happening by mutual agreement were, frankly, slim. It was far more likely that one of them would get bored first and finish with the other, and although it didn’t seem terribly likely at present, Maddy was rather hoping to be the finisher rather than the finishee. If she could just manage to persuade herself to stop liking Kerr McKinnon, how much easier it would be, knowing that he was living here, just a couple of miles from Ashcombe. If, on the other hand, he broke her heart and left her bereft, it wouldn’t be easy at all.
Maddy gave herself a mental slap. This was ridiculous. Whether Kerr lived two miles away here or five miles away in Bath, what difference did it make? She had to get a grip, act like a mature and sensible adult. Whatever happened between them, Kerr was entitled to live wherever he liked. And this was a beautiful house.
Now, why was he looking at her like that? Oh yes, waiting for her to say something.
Brightly, Maddy said, “Great.”
“Come on, finish your coffee. I’ll show you around.”
“You said that before, and we didn’t get too far.”
“I know. Sorry about that. My motives were pure, I promise you.” Kerr’s eyes glittered with wickedness. “I was pretending to be a sex-crazed seducer, to put you off me. I just hope it worked.”
Maddy thought about it. “Good tactics. But this time I’m actually going to see the rest of the house?”
“Not making any promises,” Kerr murmured into her still-damp hair. “I may have to seduce you in a few more rooms en route. But we’ll give it a go.”
* * *
“Marcella told me. She’s not thrilled.”
“Didn’t expect her to be,” Maddy retaliated with a careless shrug. Fresh from the bath, she was in the kitchen making herself grilled cheese. She had no intention of being intimidated and lectured to by, of all people, Jake.
Watching her, Jake said evenly, “So, who is he?”
Had he suspected earlier that it could be Kerr?
“No one you know, no one you’ve heard of, and I’m not telling you his name because there’s no point. Now, do you want some grilled cheese or not?”
Jake leaned against the door, his hands folded.
“Marcella wants you to finish with him.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Of course she wants me to finish with him!” Shaking her head in defiance, Maddy prodded the bubbling slices of grilled cheese on the stove with her knife. “But it’s not as easy as that. Which is why you’ve been dragged in to put the pressure on, presumably.” She raised her eyebrows at Jake. “Although why I should take a blind bit of notice of anything you say, I’ve no idea. You sleep with married women. Why can’t I do it too?”
“There’s a difference,” said Jake. “OK, I may have slept with a few married women in my time, but it was never serious. Just a bit of fun, to cheer them up and tide them over while their husbands weren’t doing their share. I don’t get emotionally involved and I certainly don’t put their marriages at risk.”
“What a hero,” Maddy said crossly. “Your trouble is, you never get emotionally involved with anyone, married or not. But Sophie’s seven now. Doesn’t it ever occur to you that maybe you should give it a go? I mean, you can’t spend the rest of your life just shagging your way around Bath for the hell of it. Don’t you think it’s about time you found yourself someone nice and settled down? You never know. If you carried on seeing a girl for longer than three days, you might find out you actually liked her.”
“Here comes Sophie,” said Jake as the back door banged and
Sophie and Bean raced in. “Tell you what, you don’t lecture me and I won’t lecture you.” Strolling over and turning off the smoking grill, he added, “Even though I know exactly what I’m doing and you haven’t a clue. These are wrecked, by the way. I’ll have the one on the left.”
“Bugger off.” Maddy pushed him out of the way. “You can have the one on the right. Unless Sophie wants some.” Turning, she said, “Soph? Fancy some grilled cheese?”
Sophie, who adored rude words and was swinging from the doorjamb, said happily, “Bugger off. I want one that isn’t burned.”
Chapter 18
It was probably PMS, but that didn’t make all the little irritations of the day any less irritating. Estelle, having stacked the dishwasher and discovered that the only things she actively disliked washing wouldn’t fit into it anyway, was at the kitchen sink scrubbing futilely at a roasting pan that was determined not to relinquish its welded-on bits of caramelized parsnip.
This wasn’t turning out to be one of her better days. Kate had been so snappish all morning that when she had taken Norris out for a walk after lunch, it had been a relief. Oliver had, in the space of the last couple of hours, managed to criticize Estelle’s roast potatoes, her fashion sense, and her less-than-intellectual taste in novels, leaving her with an ego like a deflated condom and the urge to punch him in the nose. Now Oliver had left as well, departed for London for the day, and as far as she was concerned, London was jolly well welcome to him.
“Oh, fuck it.” Estelle leaped back from the sink as her vigorous scrubbing caused a wave of dishwater to sloosh down the front of her turquoise linen shirt. Not lovely, clean, bubbly dishwater, of course, but brackish, greasy water complete with floaty burned bits. Just what you needed to accessorize a linen shirt.
“Shit, shit,” whispered Estelle, snatching up the tea towel and pressing it to her front—for all the good it would do.
“Are you OK? Did you cut yourself?” Will’s voice behind her made her jump. She hadn’t heard him come into the kitchen.
