by Jill Mansell
If she painted herself pink, like the Financial Times, she might have more luck.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Belatedly, her conscience kicked in. “What about Oliver?”
“No problem, he’s still in London. I spoke to him before he went into his meeting. He won’t be home before six.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Estelle panted, because Will was still stroking her face. “I meant he’s my husband.”
“Really? The one who neglects you?” Will raised his eyebrows. “The one who doesn’t deserve you? That husband?”
“He’s just busy. He doesn’t mean to neglect me.”
“So you want me to stop? You’d rather I didn’t come near you?”
Trembling, Estelle whispered, “No. I just…wasn’t expecting this. It’s all been a bit, um, sudden.”
“Nice sudden or nasty sudden?” asked Will.
Estelle smiled. “Nice sudden. But scary too. Kate could be back at any minute.” This was true, but it had also occurred to her that she hadn’t shaved her legs for five days; worse still, she was wearing panties made from a kind of weird stretchy honeycomb-patterned material that, when you took them off, left an unfortunate honeycomb imprint all over your bottom.
“I’ve thought of you more often than you’d believe,” Will murmured. “Seriously. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”
The chances were that he wouldn’t even notice her honeycomb-patterned bottom. And if he did, he probably wouldn’t care. But Estelle couldn’t take that risk. The prospect of getting naked in front of another man was terrifying enough. If Will burst out laughing, she’d be mentally scarred for life.
Then again, she wouldn’t say no to another kiss.
“Don’t you have work you should be doing?” Estelle glanced at the kitchen table, upon which were piled the bags containing his video camera and filming equipment.
“Just a few background shots. No hurry.” He paused. “I know what you’re thinking, by the way.”
“Wh-what?”
“You’re worried about your body. Don’t be.” Smiling, Will said, “If I’d wanted a twenty-year-old stick insect, I wouldn’t have spent the last week thinking shamefully erotic thoughts about you.”
Erotic thoughts.
“Actually, forget I said that.” Will pulled a face. “Erotic thoughts just sounds sleazy, and I promise you I’m not sleazy. It’s just”—he paused, gently stroking her hair back from her temples and letting it fall through his fingers—“you’ve been on my mind.”
“Oh,” breathed Estelle as his warm mouth closed over her mouth and the length of his body pressed thrillingly against hers. It was the most wonderful sensation, glorious in its own right and made doubly so because who would have thought she had the power to instill such desire? She’d honestly thought that once you hit forty all the passion and excitement of youth became a thing of the pa—
“Oh!” squeaked Estelle, less breathily this time as the kitchen door creaked open. Leaping away from Will so fast she almost cracked her skull open on the oak wall cabinet, she felt abject terror rise up in her throat like bile.
“It’s OK.” Will smiled as Norris, having executed his leaning-against-the-door trick to force it open, ambled into the kitchen.
“I thought it was Kate. Or Oliver. God, what if it had been?” Tingling all over with a mixture of fear and desire, Estelle rubbed the back of her head.
“Poor you, let me have a look at it. Government health warning,” said Will, tenderly feeling the bump. “Adultery can seriously damage your health.”
Adultery. Estelle’s mouth went dry at the sound of the word. How could she take that risk?
“Will, I’m flattered, but I can’t.” As the words spilled out, she didn’t know whether to congratulate herself on her moral strength or despise herself for being such a wimp.
“You don’t want to?”
Oh, how could he even ask that?
“It’s Oliver. We’ve been married for twenty-seven years.”
Will sounded amused. “We don’t have to tell him, you know.”
“But I’m such a hopeless liar,” wailed Estelle. “I mean, I’ve never needed to lie before, so I haven’t had the practice. I just know I’d stammer and go red and get it all horribly wrong, and we’d be found out in no time.”
“Shhh, OK, that’s fine.” Will’s tone was soothing. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”
This instantly made Estelle want to do it.
“No sex,” said Will.
Now she really wanted to have sex.
“Maybe just a spot of minor flirting,” Will went on. “How would you feel about that?”
Is that all? thought Estelle, already feeling deprived. Then she gave herself a mental slap, because he was absolutely right. She couldn’t betray Oliver, she mustn’t sleep with Will, and flirting was fine, really it was. All the fun and none of the guilt. What could be more harmless than that?
A spot of minor flirtation and the occasional bit of kissing.
“Sounds…great.” Faintly flustered by her own thoughts, Estelle smoothed down her pink-and-white shirt. In the corner of the kitchen Norris was slurping noisily from his water bowl, which put a bit of a damper on the seductive atmosphere.
“Well,” Will said good-naturedly. “Could have been better, but at least you didn’t run away screaming in horror. I’m happy with that.”
He didn’t know it, but he’d made her year. Talk about an ego boost. Unable to contain the joy bubbling up inside her, Estelle said, “Me too.”
* * *
Nuala’s collarbone wasn’t the only thing on the mend. Like a wonderful, unexpected Christmas present, breaking up with Dexter was turning out to be far less traumatic than she’d imagined. So much so, in fact, that it was almost embarrassing. In the past when boys had dumped her, she had always been distraught, weepily imagining that her life was over and that she’d never know happiness again. Having actually been quite famous for the extent of her declines, Nuala had naturally expected something similar to be happening now, but it simply hadn’t materialized. No depression, no sense of utter hopelessness, no weight loss even, which was a bit of a blow.
“I can’t understand it,” Nuala told Maddy as she jauntily swung the door of Snow Cottage shut behind them. “I feel absolutely fine. I don’t even get that choked-up thing in my throat when I see Dexter. You know what? If I’m honest, it’s almost a relief to have it over and done with.”
“Good.” Maddy was pleased for Nuala, but her speedy recovery from breaking up with Dexter was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it was good that Nuala was cheerful and in such a positive state of mind. On the other hand, there was such a thing as being annoyingly cheerful and positively irritating.
“Two years we were together,” Nuala marveled, swinging her turquoise shoulder bag by its plaited leather straps as they headed across Main Street to the pub. “Two whole years and I’m completely over him! It’s like a miracle. I can’t tell you how great it feels!”
Which was all very well, but not what you particularly wanted to hear when you’d never felt more empty and miserable in your life. The thing with Nuala was that she’d spent the last two years being treated like rubbish by a man she never should have gotten involved with in the first place. Never had two people been less compatible. No wonder she was glad to be out of a relationship like that. But—Maddy closed her eyes briefly—that wasn’t how it had been with her and Kerr. Breaking up with someone you knew was the love of your life wasn’t nearly so easy. Already, in the space of a few days, she had lost seven pounds and knew it didn’t suit her.
But Nuala had insisted on dragging her out for the evening because moping around the cottage was just—quote—dull, dull, dull, and in the end Maddy had run out of arguments. Which was why they were here now, at the Angel.
“We should go into Bath, check out some clubs,” Nuala bossily announced as they lined up at the bar. “You too,” she ordered Kate, who had come over to serve them. “I mean, look at us: three single girls without a man between us. How sad is that? And it’s not as if we’re ever going to find anyone decent in this dump.”
“Charming,” said Jake, who’d arrived just before them. “And to think I was about to buy you a drink.”
“I am strong,” Nuala told him smugly. “I am woman. Moping over men is no longer my thing. Anyway, I’m quite capable of buying my own drinks.”
“But sadly not capable of paying your own rent.” Jake grinned at Dexter, then winced as Nuala landed a punch on his shoulder with her good arm.
“Just for that, I’ll have a Bacardi and Coke.” Turning to Kate, Nuala said, “And make it a large one. In fact, make it a bucket.”
Dexter, who didn’t miss a trick, had already sensed that something was up. The moment Jake Harvey had entered the pub, Kate’s body language had given her away. Jake, as relaxed and laid-back as ever, had greeted her with a cheerful grin, but Kate’s jaw had tightened beneath the polite veneer and she had made a point of avoiding his gaze. Knowing Jake as he did, it didn’t take a genius to work out what had happened when Jake had taken Kate home the other afternoon. It was like a Pavlovian reaction, Dexter imagined: the moment you found yourself alone with a girl, you automatically seduced her. What’s more, when you were Jake Harvey, it evidently never crossed the girl’s mind to say no. Who knows, maybe he’d slept with Nuala too, although Dexter doubted this. If he had, he suspected Nuala wouldn’t have been able to resist the urge to boast.
The range of emotions he was experiencing weren’t the kind Dexter was used to—he didn’t actually know where they’d sprung from, but they were no less powerful for that. Whereas the thought of Nuala in bed with Jake didn’t bother him at all, imagining Kate and Jake together filled him with a boiling rage. How dare Jake take advantage of her like that, when he clearly had no interest in a proper relationship? That was Jake Harvey all over. He was a shameless, morals-free zone.
“And one for yourself,” Jake told Kate, when she’d finished serving the rest of the round of drinks.
“No thanks.” Kate busied herself wiping up the spilled drops of lager on the bar.
“Go on.” Jake’s voice softened. “Hey, no hard feelings. We can still be friends, can’t we?”
Dexter, straining to hear the murmured words from six feet away, longed to land a punch on Jake.
Deeply intrigued, Nuala raised her eyebrows inquiringly at Maddy.
Maddy, who’d been lost in thought about Kerr, hadn’t a clue what was going on and wondered why Nuala was doing that weird thing with her eyebrows.
Kate shook her head. “Really, I’m fine.”
Resting his fingers fleetingly on her arm, Jake mouthed, “Sure?”
Unable to keep quiet a moment longer, Dexter barked, “She doesn’t want a drink, OK?” Barging up to Kate, he steered her toward the restaurant end of the bar. “Table six wants another bottle of wine. Sort them out, will you? I’ll take over here.”
An hour later, Jake left to pick up Sophie from Marcella’s. Fascinated, Nuala watched Kate doggedly pretending not to watch him go. During a lull at the bar, she beckoned Kate over to the table she was sharing with Maddy.
“More peanuts?” asked Kate.
Her shoulders were noticeably more relaxed.
“It’s not peanuts we’re after.” Nuala gave her a complicit smile. “It’s information. Otherwise known as gossip. So,” she went on brightly, “you and Jake, am I right? What’s been going on that we don’t know about?”
Kate reddened. Startled, Maddy said, “Actually, there are some things I’m quite happy not to know about.”
“Oh, don’t be so boring.” Eagerly Nuala turned her attention back to Kate. “You slept with him, didn’t you? I can tell.”
“Look.” Kate shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. “This isn’t—”
“Oh my God, I’m right, aren’t I? You really did!”
“Please,” Maddy protested, but Nuala was unstoppable now.
“You lucky, lucky thing.” She gasped excitedly, slopping drink all over her sleeve. “I wanted to sleep with Jake, but he turned me down—damn, I’m so jealous! What was he like?”
“Hello? Excuse me.” Maddy’s voice rose. “I really don’t want to hear this.”
“Just whisper it then.” Nuala gave Kate a nudge. “I mean, I’m assuming he’s fabulous.”
“La-la-la,” Maddy sang loudly, her fingers jammed in her ears.
Hurriedly, Kate said, “Dexter’s going to hit the roof if I don’t get back to work.”
Clearly Kate wasn’t about to spill the beans. Some people were just plain selfish.
“OK, some other time. We could try that new club down by the train station on your next evening off, have a real girly night out.” Giving Kate a nudge as she turned to leave, Nuala added, “But he is fabulous, isn’t he?”
“Kate, get over here,” Dexter bellowed. “I don’t pay you to stand around doing bugger all.”
Back behind the bar, Kate snapped, “And there’s no need to yell at me.”
“I thought I was rescuing you.” Dexter’s voice softened.
This only served to remind her of Jake calling her a damsel in distress. Pushing past Dexter on her way to refill the ice bucket, Kate said coldly, “Well, don’t.”
Chapter 34
Was this sad? Was this the kind of thing only truly pathetic people did? Was it really so wrong when it brought her so much comfort?
Well, OK, maybe not so much comfort, but beggars couldn’t afford to be choosers. Any tiny crumb of comfort going was better than none at all.
Squinting in the darkness, Maddy held her wrist up to her face and peered at her watch. Ten past two in the morning and here she was, sitting in her car at the end of Kerr’s road, gazing up at the unlit windows of his apartment.
She would have been here earlier, but Nuala had stayed up until midnight and Jake hadn’t gone to bed until almost one o’clock. Maddy had been forced to wait until they were asleep before sneaking out of the cottage, climbing into her car, and driving—hopefully not in a deranged, stalker-like fashion—into Bath.
Oh, but now that she was here, she really did feel better, just knowing that Kerr was less than fifty feet away from her. These were his windows, that was his car parked outside, there was his very own dark blue front door…
She wasn’t doing anything wrong, Maddy reminded herself. This was a harmless coping mechanism, nothing more. OK, so she’d promised Marcella she’d never see Kerr again, but nobody had said anything about not seeing his front door.
Behind her, a set of headlights swung around the corner into the road. Guiltily, Maddy sank further down in the driver’s seat and waited for the car to pass.
When it did, she caught her breath. Why on earth would a police car be patrolling a deserted backstreet at this time of night? Honestly, when you were desperate for a passing policeman, you couldn’t find one for love nor money, yet here were a pair now, tootling around in the small hours, avoiding the city center where they might actually be needed.
As the patrol car reached the end of the cul-de-sac and swung around, Maddy tugged her purple baseball cap farther down over her face. A horrid thought was unfurling like a tapeworm in her brain—brain: Surely not… Oh bugger, don’t slow down… No, nooo…
The car pulled up directly in front of Maddy’s Saab so that their bumpers were almost kissing. Lucky bumpers. Mortified, Maddy watched the door open and a skinny beanpole of an officer unfold himself from the passenger seat.
Bugger bugger bugger.
In response to his hand gesture, Maddy unwound her window.
“Would you step out of the car, sir?”
<
br /> Bugger.
Slowly Maddy did as he asked. Standing there in her jeans, sweatshirt, and sneakers, a good foot shorter than the gangly policeman, she mumbled, “I’m not a sir,” and took off her baseball cap. Her blond hair slithered down past her shoulders.
“My apologies, miss.” Was the gangly policeman’s mouth twitching? “Um…may I ask what you’re doing?”
Marveling at the way your Adam’s apple bobs up and down, mainly. Aloud, Maddy said, “Just sitting in my car, Officer. Is that against the law?”
“Do you live in this road?”
“Well, no.”
“So why exactly are you here?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Maddy sighed. “It’s for personal reasons, OK?”
“Perhaps you could tell—”
“Look, I promise you I’m not doing any harm,” Maddy blurted out, “but personal means personal, and I don’t want to sound stroppy, but shouldn’t you be out catching real criminals, like burglars or car thieves, instead of harassing innocent motorists?”
“That is, in fact, our aim, miss. We were called here tonight by one of the residents, concerned that you might be planning to break into their home.”
For a sickening moment, Maddy wondered if it had been Kerr, alarmed at the prospect of being stalked by an ex-girlfriend-turned-deranged-madwoman. Then a flicker of movement in her peripheral vision caused her to swivel around, just in time to catch the ruffled bedroom curtain of the house opposite dropping down as a permed head hastily ducked out of sight.
“I’m not a burglar,” said Maddy. “I promise.”
This time the gangly policeman was definitely doing his best not to laugh.
“OK, I think I know what this could be about. Boyfriend trouble, am I right?”
Miserably Maddy nodded.
