It Started with a Secret

by Jill Mansell

  At last he was safe and she was able to haul herself up too. He winced as she swiftly checked him over. There was a nasty gash on his knee, presumably barnacle related, a second smaller one on the sole of his left foot, and a long graze down his skinny right arm.

  “You’ll live.” She ruffled his wet hair. “I can’t see any signs of jellyfish stings.”

  “I felt its tentacles against my leg.”

  Lainey pointed to a tattered remnant of supermarket bag floating in the water.

  Plastic, the scourge of the sea. “Might have been that.” The trouble with hearing a mention on the radio that jellyfish had been spotted locally was that everything that brushed against you instantly felt like tentacles.

  “Oh, maybe. Look how much I’m bleeding.” Fascinated, Harry gazed at the mixture of blood and seawater seeping down his shin. “Good job there weren’t any killer sharks around!”

  Eleven-year-olds and their ghoulish imaginations. Lainey laughed. “Let’s get you home. I’m going to carry you over the rocks and down onto the beach, OK?”

  “OK.” Harry nodded as she readied herself to lift him into her arms. “But mind you don’t drop me.”

  * * *

  Seth was in his bedroom, throwing clothes into an open suitcase before heading up to Bristol for a few days, when he glanced out of the window at the beach. Thanks to the rain, it was largely deserted, but over at the far end two figures were making their way slowly across the rocks, and the bright-orange board shorts of the smaller figure, being carried by the taller one, were instantly recognizable.

  What had happened? What was going on? Snatching up the binoculars on the window ledge, he peered through the curtain of gray drizzle and saw that the taller figure was Lainey, fully clothed and dripping wet. He focused in on Harry and spotted the injuries to his arm and leg. And there were the dogs, barking like crazy from the shoreline as if intent on guiding the two of them home.

  His heart had already given a jolt at the unexpected sight of Lainey. Now, as he watched, she briefly lost her footing and stumbled, and his heart crashed against his rib cage again. The plan to avoid her entirely for the next few days clearly wasn’t going to work. He needed to get down there and help.

  By the time he reached them, the drizzle had turned to hard driving rain.

  Lainey’s sodden jeans were liberally stained with the blood that was dripping down Harry’s skinny leg.

  “Is he OK? Did he hit his head?”

  “I didn’t hit my head,” said Harry. “But soon I might not have much blood left.” He peered avidly at his injuries. “I reckon I’ve lost quite a few liters by now.”

  Lainey said, “He’s fine. It looks worse than it is.” She eased her way carefully down the sloping rocks and onto the beach.

  “Don’t put me down on the sand! I don’t want sand in my bad foot!”

  “You’re heavy,” Lainey protested. “My arms are dropping off.”

  Seth said, “Here, give him to me.”

  “I’ll get blood on you,” Harry warned.

  “I’ll survive.” As Seth reached out to take him and Lainey began to pass him over, inevitably they made contact and he had to angle his face away in case she saw the effect on him. “Now let’s get you home and cleaned up.” He glanced at Lainey, her lashes made spiky by the rain, and felt the coldness of her hands against his forearms. “Right, I’ve got him. Good job. Ernie, get down.”

  “Waaah,” cried Harry as both dogs leaped up, tails wagging madly. “They’re licking the blood off my feet and it tickles…”

  When they arrived back at the house, Seth said to Lainey, “You’re shivering. Why don’t you towel the dogs down, then go and have a shower? I’ll get Harry cleaned up, see if he needs stitches.”

  Whereupon Harry, who was renowned for his many sporting injuries and intensely proud of his own bravery, retorted, “Of course I’ll need stitches. I always do.”

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, showered and changed into dry clothes, Lainey returned to the house and came upstairs to the main bathroom.

  “He definitely needs it seen to,” said Seth. “Looks like he’s sliced his foot open on a mussel shell.” He’d wrapped a clean tea towel around the worst injury and stuck Harry’s foot in a shopping bag for good measure.

  “Do you want to take him to the emergency room, or shall I?” Lainey looked at him, and he felt his resolve weaken.

  Harry said, “You could both take me if you want.”

  “Lainey can take you. I need to get up to Bristol.” This was an outright lie; it wasn’t a matter of needing to be there—he was just desperate to get away from Lainey. Seth gave Harry a fist bump. “You be brave, OK?”

  Harry did a disbelieving eye roll. “I’m the bravest person in this house.”

  Seth exhaled; just now, he could well be right.

  Lainey helped Harry downstairs and into the car. Once he’d heard them drive off up the road, Seth turned his attention back to the bathroom, which looked like a crime scene.

  It occurred to him that his mother’s idea during her last visit to St. Carys might not have been such a bad one after all. At the time, he’d had no interest in finding out the identity of his biological father. But now the situation was different and infinitely more serious. Under these new circumstances, maybe he did need to know.

  He selected the most heavily bloodstained of the two hand towels he’d used to stem Harry’s bleeding. Feeling somewhat repulsed as he did so, he rolled it up, took it into his own room and placed it in a bag at the back of the wardrobe. It might not be the aboveboard way to go about it, but what other choice did he have? They were either half brothers or unrelated; it wouldn’t be hard to find out which.

  Oh God, though, the creeping fear that hadn’t left him since he’d taken the devastating phone call from Shelley was once more pressing down on his chest, constricting his lungs. The last thing he wanted to know was whose son he was, but could he bear to live without knowing the truth?

  Chapter 38

  So here she was then, a living, breathing triumph of hope over experience, yet again giving someone else the opportunity to change her life.

  Maybe this one wouldn’t be as completely disastrous as the others. On the bright side, he surely couldn’t be worse.

  For what felt like the hundredth time, Majella checked her watch. She hadn’t even had time to mentally prepare herself for this one; downloading the dating app last night had been Violet’s bright idea because—in her daughter’s blithe words—it’d be a laugh, was worth a shot, and what did she have to lose? Then Lainey had gotten involved, and an hour later, after a couple of bucket-sized glasses of wine and much swiping and laughter, she’d somehow found herself agreeing to meet Niall, a forty-six-year-old former financial adviser from London who now lived in Padstow and painted full-time, because the world was a beautiful place and life was too short not to make the most of every single day and every opportunity that came along.

  Well, it was a sentiment she agreed with, in theory at least. And where was the harm in giving it a whirl? She knew she couldn’t spend the rest of her life regretting the fact that she’d let a man in a kitten T-shirt slip through her fingers; Dan might have been the perfect one for her, but he’d gone back to wherever it was he lived, and she hadn’t even managed to get his surname. Which just went to show what a complete amateur she was, and also meant Dan was a ship that had well and truly sailed off and disappeared over the horizon.

  Anyway, being positive, who was to say that Niall wouldn’t be better? Maybe this evening would be the start of something magical and miraculous and amazing.

  They could gaze into each other’s eyes and both experience a coup de foudre, that thunderclap of mutual attraction, and every single thing about him might be perfect…

  Oh God, and here he was now, heading down the hill toward her
. Awash with nerves, Majella straightened her spine and prepared to meet her date. One good thing: at least he looked like his photograph.

  Although, hang on, was that a guitar on his back?

  “Hey! Wow, you’re gorgeous, how nice to meet you! What can I get you to drink? Sorry, how rude of me, I’m Niall. And let me tell you, this dating app business is off to a flying start. This is my first go and I’m well impressed!”

  Twenty minutes later, Majella found herself starting to relax. Niall was chatty and easygoing, with a wide smile and well-shaped hands. The reason he’d brought his guitar along with him was because he’d been giving a friend’s son a lesson earlier and hadn’t wanted to leave it in the car in case it got stolen. Playing the guitar was another of his life-enhancing hobbies, he explained, along with songwriting. Did she have any idea how incredible her cheekbones were? And the curves of her mouth?

  Had she ever had her portrait painted? Because she really should; it was a special experience.

  “Seriously, I’d love to paint you.” He eyed her with the speculative air of an expert. “Your eyes are hypnotic. Oh God, listen to me getting carried away. My sister’s been warning me to stay cool, calm, and in control. Ignore me, forget I said that about your eyes. It’s just I’m a heart-on-my-sleeve kind of guy.” He shook his head by way of apology. “This might sound stupid, but it didn’t even occur to me that I’d meet someone I really like.”

  “It’s fine.” Majella smiled, slightly embarrassed but at the same time charmed by his honesty. “All that game playing. It’s so complicated, isn’t it?”

  Niall’s blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’d rather just come out with it and say what’s on my mind. And this is turning into the kind of evening I’m not going to forget in a hurry.” He reached for his guitar, resting on the chair next to him, and slung the strap over his shoulder. Within seconds, he was strumming chords and gazing directly at her.

  Oh no, please no, don’t say he was about to start singing. Majella’s skin prickled in alarm, and she shrank back like a slug being showered with salt.

  “Your eyes, your beautiful eyes,” he crooned, rocking gently from side to side and smiling dreamily. “And your mouth, such a wonderful mouth…”

  Aaarrrgh, people at nearby tables were turning to see what was going on.

  “But it’s your soul, Maj-ellaaa, that’s won my heart…”

  Nooo, make it stop.

  “You and me together now, never apaaaart…”

  Majella’s toes weren’t just curling; they were turning themselves into spirals of mortification, and now Niall was launching into the second verse with increased vigor, as if she’d passed some kind of test and deserved an extra-special treat. Was she meant to be looking at him or not? Smiling as if enraptured, or deadly serious and brimming with emotion? Could the people behind her see the expanding damp patch on the back of her blue silk shirt where perspiration was trickling down her shoulders and spine?

  Finally, after what felt like fourteen hours of mental torture, the song came to an end. An awkward smattering of applause broke out around them, and Niall thanked his audience with a raised hand and a modest smile of acknowledgment.

  “That was…wow.” Majella swallowed. “Did you write it yourself?”

  “I did. I’ve been waiting for someone to sing it to.” His eyes sparkled. “This evening finally felt like the right time.”

  “Well, it’s…great.” If they carried on seeing each other, she’d just have to break it to him gently that being sung to in public wasn’t her thing and basically she’d rather dive into an alligator swamp.

  It was OK, though; the experience might have been excruciating, but it didn’t need to be a deal breaker. Much like her very first date with Tony twenty years ago, when he’d turned up wearing a truly terrible Kermit-green corduroy jacket. A couple of months later, she’d surreptitiously donated it to a charity shop and had steered Tony in the right direction when they’d gone shopping together to buy a replacement.

  Compromise, that was what a truly happy relationship was all about.

  “Are you hungry?” said Niall. “Or do you want to stay here for another drink?”

  He hadn’t put the guitar down; it was still there, its strings mere centimeters from his playing hand, as if at any moment he might launch into another song. To be on the safe side, Majella said, “Actually, I am quite hungry. Shall we find somewhere to eat? I mean, they do food here if you want…”

  “I noticed.” Niall indicated the plates that had been brought out to a neighboring table, then leaned forward and said discreetly, “But this is a special occasion, isn’t it? I think we can do a bit better than burgers and fries.”

  They arrived at Montgomery’s ten minutes later. Majella couldn’t help feeling flattered and impressed; the new restaurant overlooking Beachcomber Bay had rapidly become known as one of the best in Cornwall, a bit of a foodie’s paradise. The chef was by all accounts wildly talented. She’d not eaten here herself since its doors had opened in December but had heard great things about the place. And the decor, in shades of bronze, dove gray, and mulberry, was luxurious.

  Best of all, though, was knowing that if Niall was so keen to bring her here, it must mean he liked her too. It was such a relief to know she didn’t have to spend the rest of the evening hoping he did. He’d already told her he would be happy to pay for dinner and she’d explained that she would be more comfortable splitting the bill, but wasn’t it lovely of him to have made the gesture? Plus, he’d asked the maître d’ to store his guitar in a safe place, so she no longer had to worry that he might be about to whip it out and serenade her again in the middle of the restaurant.

  A pretty young waitress handed them their menus and Majella boggled a bit at the prices.

  “Cheers!” When their wine had been poured, Niall clinked his glass against hers. “This feels like the start of something special, doesn’t it? Here’s to you and me.”

  Despite her rosy glow, Majella couldn’t help noticing that the pretty waitress seemed to be keeping a close eye on her. Every time she glanced up, the girl was still watching, like an out-in-the-open secret agent. Maybe being superattentive was all part of the service here. She returned her attention to the menu, debating whether to go for lobster and pomegranate salad or the scallops with prosciutto to start, then looked up again because the waitress was now hovering behind Niall, discreetly pointing in the direction of the back of the restaurant and mouthing the word bathroom.

  Majella blinked, puzzled.

  “Problem?” Niall looked concerned.

  The waitress turned away, then looked back at her and nodded urgently before heading over to clear one of the other tables.

  “No problem! It all looks so lovely, I just can’t decide.” She pushed back her chair. “Sorry, just going to nip to the bathroom. Back in a minute.”

  Still mystified, she waited in the cool marble bathroom. A minute later, the door swung open and the waitress joined her.

  “Hi, sorry, this might be none of my business.” The girl kept her voice low. “But is this the first time you’ve met that guy you’re with?”

  Majella nodded. “Well…yes.”

  “Did he find you on a dating app?”

  “Yes.”

  “OK, can I just warn you, he’s been here twice before and both times he asks for the bill at the end of the meal, then suddenly discovers he’s forgotten to bring his wallet with him.”

  What?

  “Oh no.” Majella’s hand flew to her mouth as the realization sank in.

  “I mean, maybe he’s remembered to bring it with him this time. But like my mum says, once a scam artist, always a scam artist. I didn’t know whether to tell you.” The girl wrinkled her nose. “But it’s not nice, is it? Ordering dinner and a couple of bottles of, like, really expensive wine, then making you pay for the whole lot.”r />
  Appalled, Majella said, “Making me pay?”

  “I don’t mean, like, at gunpoint. But he’s being all charming and keen, isn’t he? That’s how he was with the other women he brought here. Then he made out he was mortified when he realized he’d left his wallet at home, and they felt so sorry for him they insisted on getting their credit cards out. We couldn’t believe he had the nerve to do it twice,” she went on. “Two weeks running. But three times, that’s just taking the…well, you know what I mean. Some men reckon they’re God’s gift, don’t they, and just take it for granted that single women are so desperate they’ll fall for any old—”

  “Bastard.” Majella belatedly realized from the widening of the girl’s eyes that she hadn’t just thought it inside her own head. “Sorry, I can’t believe this is happening to me. I feel like such an idiot. I’m just trying to work out what to do.”

  “Well, you could disappear.” The girl indicated the small window at the other end of the bathroom. “That’d be good. Could you manage to wriggle through that, d’you think?”

  Majella’s mind instantly went back to the house in Bude, when Lainey had climbed in through the bathroom window and then they’d met Dan, whom she now thought of as the one who got away.

  But that was life for you; it was never straightforward, was it? Also, this bathroom window was smaller than the one at the Gardners’ house, and there was no way she could squeeze through a gap that size.

  As she shook her head, the waitress continued brightly, “Or you could confront him in the restaurant and pour a jug of water over his head.”

  “It’s a nice idea.” Majella looked rueful. “But a messy one.”

  “I wouldn’t mind clearing it up.”

  She didn’t want to create a scene, though. They left the bathroom and the waitress slipped back into the kitchen. Majella returned to the table and sat back down.

  “There you are.” Niall flashed his winning smile. “I was beginning to think you’d run away. Shall we order now?”

  There was no time to waste. She couldn’t let the restaurant start preparing their food. Mentally bracing herself, she said, “Sorry if this is a weird question, but we did agree we’d be splitting the bill, didn’t we?”