Falling for You

by Jill Mansell

  Who was she kidding? It didn’t happen. Whether out of guilt or indifference or plain dislike, Kate turned away and Maddy knew two things for sure.

  Kate was the one who had told Jake about herself and Kerr.

  And Nuala was wrong: Kate was every bit as bad as she thought.

  * * *

  Just the sound of Kerr’s voice on the phone had the ability to melt Maddy’s insides like chocolate. She loved ringing him so much, she couldn’t imagine how she’d ever managed to get through life without it.

  “Change of plan,” she murmured from the back room of the delicatessen, having triple-checked that no customers had ventured into the shop. “I can’t make six o’clock. Marcella just rang Jake and left a message for the two of us to meet her at six.”

  “When you say the two of us,” said Kerr, “you don’t mean—”

  “No, not you and me and Marcella with a shotgun.” Maddy smiled because, miraculously, when she was talking to Kerr nothing else seemed to matter. “She wants to see Jake and me. No idea why, but apparently she sounded fine, so it can’t be anything too scary. Anyhow, I’m sure it won’t take long, so I’ll be over by seven.”

  “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” asked Kerr.

  Maddy’s stomach flip-flopped like a landed fish.

  “The bad news.”

  “I still haven’t gotten over you.”

  Bastard! Overcome with relief, she said, “And the good news?”

  Kerr’s voice softened. “You haven’t gotten over me.”

  Maddy made her way back through to the shop with a dopey smirk on her face. Juliet, carefully slicing up a kiwi-lime torte, said, “You’re going to hate me for saying this, but it’s all going to end in tears.”

  Stubbornly, Maddy said, “Don’t be such a pessimist.”

  “Take it from me: a secret is only a secret if nobody else knows about it. Even a secret shared between two people can be risky. It only works if they both have watertight reasons for wanting it kept.”

  “I know, I know, but we’re managing.” If there had been any sand around, Maddy would have stuck her head in it.

  “I’m just warning you, that’s all.” Juliet’s dark eyes were luminous with compassion. “You and Kerr know. I know. So does Nuala and Jake. And now there’s someone else as well. You think it’s Kate Taylor-Trent, but you’re not completely sure. At this rate, there aren’t going to be many people left in Ashcombe who aren’t in on the secret.”

  Not wanting to hear this, Maddy reached for the silver tongs and began placing rum truffles from the glass-fronted case into one of the glossy cream boxes. Rum truffles were Marcella’s favorite. Having weighed the box, she said, “Six pounds fifty,” so that Juliet could add the extra amount to her slate.

  “That’s what a guilty husband does when he’s been spending too much time with his mistress,” said Juliet. “Stops off at a gas station and grabs a bunch of orange carnations for the wife.”

  “Is that what Tiff’s father used to do?” Maddy felt mean, but she couldn’t resist the dig. Life was complicated enough right now, without being subjected to lectures from well-meaning friends who hadn’t exactly led blameless lives themselves.

  “I’m sure he did,” said Juliet with a faint smile. “Although I’d like to think he did a bit better than a few shabby carnations smelling of petrol.”

  Juliet had never deliberately set out to steal another woman’s husband, Maddy knew that. She hadn’t discovered until it was too late that he had a wife at home, and by then Tiff had been on the way.

  “Do you miss him?” asked Maddy.

  “You mean do I wish we could still be together, like a normal happy family?” Juliet slid the torte back into the chiller cabinet and moved toward the till as a retired couple came into the shop. Lowering her voice, she murmured, “No, I don’t. Tiff and I are fine together.”

  “Just the two of you? Don’t you ever want anyone else?”

  “We can’t always have what we want, can we?” asked Juliet. “Sometimes we just have to settle for what we can get.”

  * * *

  The bus trundled along Main Street, finally slowing up as it reached the war memorial. Marcella would normally have collected her bags together by now, made her way to the front of the vehicle, and chatted to the driver while she waited for the bus to come to a halt.

  This time she stayed in her seat, clutching her pink raffia bag to her chest, until the bus stopped running and the door opened.

  “Thought you’d fallen asleep,” said the driver when she finally reached the steps.

  “Not me.” Marcella smiled absently at him. “Thanks, Mickey. See you.”

  “What happened to all your bags?” He looked surprised. One of life’s great shoppers, Marcella was invariably loaded down like a packhorse.

  She shook her head as she climbed down and waggled her fingers at him. “Didn’t buy anything today, Mickey. Nothing caught my eye.”

  It wasn’t true, of course, but she could hardly show him the one item she had bought. There were some things it just wasn’t appropriate to share with your friendly neighborhood bus driver.

  Still in a bit of a daze, Marcella waited until Mickey had driven off along Ashcombe Road before turning to face Snow Cottage. It was hard to believe quite how drastically life was about to change.

  “Mum!” Her gaze shifting to the upstairs window, Marcella saw Maddy waving at her. “Come on. We’ve been waiting for you! You’re late!”

  Darling Maddy, she loved her with all her heart. And Jake. And Sophie too. Her wonderful family—oh Lord, here she was, off again, how completely ridiculous.

  Upstairs in her bedroom, Maddy saw the tears tumbling down Marcella’s smooth brown cheeks and felt her heart sink like a stone. Marcella didn’t cry. She was the strongest, bravest person Maddy knew.

  This had to be bad.

  Either bad, or something to do with Kerr McKinnon, in which case it was a catastrophe.

  “Jake?” Suddenly terrified, Maddy backed away from the window and clattered downstairs. “Open the front door quick. Mum’s here”—she heard her voice falter—“and she’s crying.”

  By the time Maddy reached the hall, Jake had opened the door and there was Marcella in her denim jacket and primrose-yellow pedal-pushers, with her hair wrapped up in a spectacular pink scarf and tears rolling down her face.

  Hardly daring to breathe, Maddy said, “What is it? What’s happened?”

  Fumbling for a tissue that was already shredded and damp, Marcella shook her head. “I’ve got a bit of news. Brace yourselves now, you two.” She broke into a huge, unrepentant grin. “I’m pregnant.”

  Chapter 25

  “Oh my God, oh my God!” Shocked and delighted, as well as vastly relieved that it wasn’t anything to do with Kerr—at least, she certainly hoped it wasn’t—Maddy threw her arms around Marcella. “Really? That’s fantastic. It’s just the most amazing news ever!”

  Simultaneously laughing and crying, Marcella said, “I know. I think I’m still in shock. Poor Vince, he really should have been the first to know—oh, thanks, darling.” She beamed at Jake, who had thrust a box of tissues into her hands. “But he’s on one of his fishing trips and his phone’s switched off and I just couldn’t wait to tell you. I still can’t believe it. I’m pregnant! I’m actually having a baby! It’s my biggest ever dream come true…”

  Tears of joy were streaming unstoppably down Marcella’s cheeks now as Jake hugged her and they made their way through to the kitchen. Wiping her own eyes, Maddy said, “I’m so happy for you,” and meant it. This had been Marcella’s fantasy for so many years. She had been a perfect mother to them, yet the longing for a child of her own had never faded. And now she was going to have one. It was like a miracle.

  “I had absolutely no idea! Guess how I found out?” Pulling out a chai
r at the scrubbed oak table, Marcella said eagerly, “What do I smell of?”

  “Um…” Mystified, Maddy sniffed. “Well, nothing.”

  “Exactly! And I’ve been into Bath!”

  Maddy comprehended at last. Marcella’s regular shopping jaunts invariably included a trawl through the perfume hall of Jolly’s department store, squishing herself with enough scent to fell an elephant.

  “They banned you from Jolly’s?”

  “Ha, they wouldn’t dare! No, I went in there as usual, all ready to start squishing, and it was so weird. I just kept picking up the bottles, sniffing them, then putting them down again. I didn’t feel sick exactly; I just couldn’t bring myself to actually squirt any perfume on me. Well, it was just the strangest thing! Even the sales girls thought it was odd. In the end, it was Daphne, from the Estèe Lauder counter, who said, ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’ And I just laughed, because she’d only said it as a joke. But then I went for a coffee at that nice place on Pulteney Bridge—you know, the one where you’re actually allowed to have a cigarette—and when I pushed open the door, it was so smoky in there I had to come out again.” Marcella waggled her hands in disbelief. “Well, that’s something that’s never happened to me before, so I began to think, ‘Hey, what’s going on here?’ So I went to the pharmacy, bought one of those tests, and popped back to Jolly’s because their bathrooms are so nice. And…then I did the test, and it was…it was…p-positive, and I realized I was…p-p-pregnant. God, look at me, off again. I’m like the Trevi Fountain.” Dragging another handful of tissues from the box, she rubbed away her tears. “It’s the hormones, Dr. Carter told me. They’ve just swirled up and knocked me for six—oh, thanks, love.” Smiling gratefully up at Jake, she took the mug of tea. “We should be cracking open the champagne really, but Dr. Carter says no alcohol, to be on the safe side.”

  “Hang on. How can you have seen Dr. Carter already?” Maddy frowned, because it was easier to get an audience with the Pope than it was to persuade Dr. Carter’s dragon of a receptionist to give you an appointment this side of Christmas.

  “Oh, it was fab. I made the receptionist an offer she couldn’t refuse.” Marcella looked pleased with herself. “I turned up at the doctor’s office, and she tried to fob me off with an appointment in twelve days’ time, so I told her that wasn’t good enough and that I was going to sit there in the waiting room until I was seen. Then the old trout tried telling me I wasn’t urgent, and I said I’d spent the last twenty years trying to get pregnant and now that it looked as if I might actually be pregnant, I wanted it confirmed this minute.”

  “You’re brave.” Maddy was filled with admiration.

  “Not really, just desperate. Then I started crying again, really loudly, and that was when Dr. Carter came out and took me into his office. He’d been in there dictating his letters, listening to the whole shouting match and having a good laugh, the jerk.” Marcella’s smile was rueful. “He said nobody’s ever stood their ground quite like that before now. Usually his receptionist boots them out. But when he heard me say I was pregnant, he had to come get me for the sake of my blood pressure. Anyway, so he examined me and confirmed it, and we both got a bit emotional because he knew how much it meant to me. Then he gave me all these leaflets and a big lecture on how to look after myself, because things can still go wrong, especially with me being so ancient.”

  “Ancient,” Maddy scoffed, because Marcella had always looked so young for her age. She had the face and figure of a thirty-year-old.

  “I’m forty-three.” For a moment Marcella’s smile slipped. “I’ve never been pregnant before. Dr. Carter warned me about the risk of miscarriage. No cigarettes, obviously. No alcohol. No unpasteurized cheese or raw eggs or climbing ladders. He made a point of telling me I should be taking things easy, avoiding any stress. No physical exertions and definitely no emotional turmoil.” With a beatific smile, Marcella sat back and gently patted her flat stomach. “Just inner calm and relaxation classes and general blissfulness.”

  Oh Lord. Maddy inadvertently caught Jake’s eye and instantly wished she hadn’t.

  “Hear that? No stress.” Jake raised a meaningful eyebrow and Maddy glowered back at him.

  “Yes, darling, I was going to talk to you about that anyway,” said Marcella. “Call me shameless, but I’m taking advantage of my delicate condition. Promise me you’ll stop seeing this married man of yours.” Leaning across, she gave Maddy’s hand a squeeze. “Sweetheart, I’ve never asked you for anything before, but I’m asking you now. Please give him up. For this baby, if not for yourself.”

  * * *

  It was ten past seven. Back in the cottage, Jake was busy cooking a mushroom risotto while Marcella, with enormous relish, read aloud scary passages from the copy of You and Your Pregnancy she hadn’t been able to resist buying in WHSmith. Maddy, who had volunteered to pick Sophie up from her Thursday night dance class in Batheaston, rang Kerr as soon as she was safely inside the car.

  He answered on the third ring, as she was heading out of the village.

  “D’you want the good news or the bad news?”

  “Well, you aren’t here,” said Kerr, “so I can guess the bad news.”

  “I can’t see you tonight. We’ve got Marcella with us. She’s pregnant, can you believe it? You’ve never seen anyone so happy.”

  “That’s fantastic. I’m glad for her.” Kerr knew all about Marcella’s years of longing for a baby. Ruefully he added, “Even if she does wish I was dead.”

  “Not dead. Just…preferably not on this continent.” Maddy smiled as she said it, but her fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

  “So was that the good news, or is there more?”

  Good news? Apart from Marcella’s pregnancy, when had there been any good news? Longingly Maddy pictured Kerr at home, stretched out across the sofa, drinking a lager and flicking through the TV channels, winding down after a hard day’s work, waiting for her…

  “Hey,” Kerr prompted, breaking into her muddled thoughts. “When am I going to see you? And I’m not talking about delivering sandwiches to the office,” he added. “I mean when am I going to really see you?”

  Maddy’s throat tightened. Now was the time to tell him if she had a shred of decency about her, an honest bone in her body, an ounce of loyalty toward Marcella.

  “Tomorrow evening.” Her mouth was dry with shame. It took an effort to unstick her traitorous tongue from the roof of her mouth. “Tomorrow, seven o’clock. I promise.”

  * * *

  At nine thirty, sunburned and windswept and smelling of the sea, Vince arrived at Snow Cottage to pick Marcella up. Having greeted Maddy and Jake, he bent over the back of the sofa and gave Marcella a kiss.

  “How was it?” Marcella had made sure the incriminating book was out of sight, under a cushion.

  “Fantastic. Perfect conditions.” Vince’s dark hair flopped over his forehead as he tickled the soles of Sophie’s bare feet. Proudly he said, “Five sea bass, three plaice, and a dozen mackerel.”

  “Oh, darling, that’s brilliant. And guess what else? We’re going to have a baby.”

  Vince stopped tickling Sophie’s feet.

  “What?”

  “I think you heard,” Marcella said happily.

  “It’s a surprise!” screamed Sophie, beside herself with excitement. “I wanted to tell you, but Dad said I wouldn’t get any pocket money for a year.”

  Vince was gazing at Marcella. His dark eyes filled with tears of joy. Barely able to speak, he whispered, “A baby? Really?”

  Marcella smiled and nodded. Maddy, watching Vince, knew how desperately he had always longed for children of his own.

  The tears were sliding unashamedly down his cheeks now. With his Italian blood coursing through his veins, Vince made no attempt to hide them.

  “Oh, poor Vince.” Scrambling off the sofa, Soph
ie rushed to fling her arms around him. “Don’t cry. Babies aren’t that bad. We thought you’d be pleased.”

  Chapter 26

  Lurking in the bushes wasn’t something Maddy had much experience of doing. She was discovering that it involved close acquaintance with a lot more insects than she’d imagined.

  It was eleven twenty, kicking out time at the Fallen Angel. Since waiting outside the entrance to the pub would only arouse the curiosity of departing regulars, Maddy was forced to skulk in the shadows with leaves tickling the back of her neck, moths flitting past her face like mini kamikaze pilots, and grasshoppers making their raucous, ratchety grasshopper noises at her feet.

  Jerking back in horror, Maddy discovered a spider had been busily constructing a cobweb between her hair and a handily positioned section of hedge. With a shudder of revulsion she pummeled the cobweb away and leaped to one side, time-warp style, as a grasshopper rasped in the vicinity of her left foot. Honestly, nature, sometimes there was just that bit too much of it.

  Moments later, thankfully, the pub door opened and into a pool of light stepped the object of Maddy’s attention.

  Maddy waited until the door had swung shut, extinguishing the pool of light, before emerging from the depths of the hedge.

  Having finished her shift, Kate was on her way home. With her Prada bag slung over one shoulder, her skirt swirling, and her high heels clacking along the pavement, from this angle she looked like a model on TV advertising the latest in confidence-boosting tampons.

  It wasn’t until she turned her head, as Maddy crossed the road toward her, that the scars on her face were visible.

  “Can I have a word?” asked Maddy, wishing with all her heart that she didn’t have to do this but knowing she must.

  “Fire away.” Kate didn’t stop walking or even slow down. Maddy kept pace with her as she headed for the junction where Main Street met Gypsy Lane.

  Here goes.

  “Do you know?”

  “Do I know what?”

  It was too dark to see whether Kate’s expression had changed, but she’d paused for a moment before asking the question.