‘You make him sound like an ogre,’ exclaimed Cindy, from the opulent comfort of her four-poster bed in Chelsea. Recently married to a rich-but-ugly industrialist, some twenty-five years older than herself, whose vast stomach, thankfully, was a serious impediment to their sex life, she couldn’t imagine what Maxine had to moan about. ‘I met Guy Cassidy at a party last year and he was absolutely charming. All the women were drooling like dogs! Maxi, you have to admit he’s sensationally attractive...’

‘Looks aren’t everything,’ Maxine drawled, jiggling the ice cubes in her glass and tucking her bare feet beneath her on the sofa. Then, relenting slightly, she added casually, ‘Well, he’s not bad I suppose.’

‘Don’t give me that,’ crowed Cindy, who knew her too well. ‘What are you trying to tell me, that you’ve had your hormones surgically removed? You must fancy him rotten!’

Maxine grinned. Cindy, in London, was a safe enough confidante.

‘OK,’ she admitted, taking a slug of gin. ‘So maybe I do, a bit. But I’d fancy him a lot more if only he’d show a smidgeon of interest in return. You have no idea how demoralizing it is, slapping on the old make-up and making myself generally irresistible when he takes about as much interest in me as he does in the bloody milkman.’

‘Sometimes make-up isn’t enough,’ replied Cindy, ever practical. ‘Sometimes you just have to rip off your pinny and get naked.’

‘You mean I should seduce him?’ At such an awesome prospect, even Maxine blanched.

‘Works every time,’ Cindy said happily. Maxine doubted whether Cindy would even recognise a pinafore if it leapt up and strangled her. She’d certainly never worn one in her life.

‘It wouldn’t work with Guy.’ Gloomily contemplating her almost empty glass, she imagined the scenario. She had a horrid feeling he would laugh his handsome head off. Before firing her, naturally.

‘Why?’ countered Cindy. ‘Have you got fat?’

‘I’ve got Guy Cassidy as a boss,’ Maxine sighed. ‘So far, he’s seen through everything I’ve tried, and all he does is sneer. He’s too smart to fall for an old trick like that.’

‘You’re losing your nerve, girl. Living out in the sticks is doing something to your brain.

Isn’t he worth taking a chance on?’

‘It’s all right for you.’ As Maxine spoke, the doorbell rang. ‘All you did was meet him at a party. You want to try living with him.’

‘Darling, I’d be there like a shot!’ Cindy, her interest aroused, sounded excited. ‘Now there’s an idea. You could invite me down for a weekend. If you’re too chicken, I’ll have a crack at him myself!’

‘I’ll have to go.’ Maxine, uncurling herself, realized that her left leg had been seized by pins and needles and was now completely numb. ‘There’s someone at the door.’

‘Oh pleeease,’ Cindy urged. ‘I’m your friend, aren’t I? Go on, invite me!’

‘No,’ said Maxine bluntly. ‘You’re married.’

‘Don’t be so boring,’ protested Cindy. ‘At least I’m not chicken!’

Cindy didn’t understand, thought Maxine as she made her way awkwardly to the front door, clinging to furniture as she went. She wasn’t chicken either, she just wasn’t prepared to make a complete prat of herself and lose both home and job into the bargain. And she would have her wicked way with Guy Cassidy eventually, she was quite determined on that score. It was simply a matter of timing and technique. And pouncing on him buck-naked, Maxine decided with a small, wry smile, didn’t exactly rate highly in terms of finesse.

She needn’t have bothered to stop en route and grab a handful of fivers from the tin in the kitchen, because it wasn’t the milkman after all.

‘Yes?’ said Maxine, staring at the woman on the doorstep and mentally noting the style and quality of the clothes she wore. She’d bet her last Jaffa cake it wasn’t the Avon lady either.

‘Is Guy here?’ The visitor eyed Maxine in turn, instantly homing in on the blackcurrant jam stain which, courtesy of Ella, adorned her yellow tee-shirt.

The rain was still bucketing down, driven in from the sea by a ferocious wind and hammering against the windows like gravel. Anyone else, caught out in such a storm, would have looked like a scarecrow.

But this woman, wrapped in a long, lean leather coat the colour of toffee apples, worn over a cream and toffee-apple striped silk shirt and cream trousers, seemed impervious to the weather.

Screamingly elegant from her short, sleek black hair to her beige Ferragamo shoes, she simply wasn’t the kind of female whose mascara ever ran. Maxine couldn’t bear people like that. Most ominous of all, however, was the fact that in her elegant hand she carried an elegant suitcase.

Naturally, it matched the outfit.

Feeling very down-at-heel by comparison, Maxine replied with a trace of belligerence.

‘He’s away on a shoot in Wiltshire. We aren’t expecting him back until late this evening. He may even decide to stay there overnight.’

The woman, however, simply shrugged and smiled. Even her teeth were elegant. ‘So much for surprises.’

Deeply engrossed in her telephone conversation with Cindy, Maxine hadn’t heard an approaching car. Now she realized there wasn’t one.

‘I came by taxi,’ said the woman, intercepting her glance in the direction of the drive.

‘Don’t worry.’ Maxine stepped aside and gestured her to step inside. ‘I’ll phone for another one. I’m sorry you’ve had a wasted journey, but if you’d like to leave a message for Guy I’ll make sure he gets it. As I said, he probably won’t be back tonight ...’

‘It’s quite all right,’ said the woman easily, making her way past Maxine into the hall and dismissing her offer with a nonchalant wave of her wrist. Indicating the suitcase in her other hand, she added, ‘This isn’t a fleeting visit. I’m down here for a week at least.’

Bugger, thought Maxine. It hadn’t worked. ‘Really? How nice,’ she said aloud.

Her name was Serena Charlton and in confined spaces the reek of her scent was positively overpowering. One of Guy’s ruthlessly slender model ‘friends’, she was showing every sign of making herself at home.

‘We’re extremely good friends, she told Maxine as she slithered out of the leather coat and handed it to her. ‘I expect Guy’s told you all about me.’

Not so much as a syllable, thought Maxine, taking comfort from the fact. It was going to be interesting seeing Guy’s reaction when he returned and found an uninvited guest comfortably installed in his home. What fun if he booted her out .. .

‘Then again,’ said Serena, observing her deliberately blank expression, ‘he always did like to keep his private life to himself. And gossiping with the household staff isn’t quite the done thing, after all.’

‘Of course not.’ No m’lady, sorry m’lady, Maxine silently mocked, only just resisting the urge to tug her forelock and bob a fetching little curtsey. She was expected, it seemed, to hang the coat up. To amuse herself, she dumped it instead over the back of the nearest chair.

But Serena appeared genuinely unaware of the fact that her words might have given offence. Making herself comfortable on the sofa, she smiled across at Maxine and said, ‘A cup of tea would be nice. White with two Hermesetas, please.’

Having heaped at least a hundred calories’ worth of brown sugar into the cup, Maxine felt a little better. When she carried it through to Serena in the sitting room she said, ‘Josh and Ella are playing upstairs. Shall ‘I tell them you’re here?’

Serena was undoubtedly beautiful but she hadn’t featured in Josh’s list of favourite females, which was another bonus. Maxine soon found out why.

‘The children are here?’ Serena’s face fell. Her tone of voice registered distinct lack of enthusiasm. ‘Why aren’t they at school?’

‘Summer holidays.’ Maxine had to work hard to suppress a grin. Serena Charlton, presumably, was childless.

‘Oh. No, don’t worry about getting them down here. No need to disturb them. You carry on with your work, um ... Maxine. I’ll just sit here and enjoy my tea in peace.’

And get fat into the bargain, thought Maxine smugly, remembering the amount of sugar she’d put in. Dying to get the low-down on Serena, she raced upstairs to interrogate Josh. The lack of enthusiasm, it transpired, was entirely mutual.

‘She’s staying for a whole week?’

Reaching for the remote control, Maxine reduced the volume on the television.

‘She thinks she is. Why, don’t you like her?’

‘Her face is quite pretty,’ said Ella helpfully. ‘And she’s got really short hair.’

‘She’s OK I suppose.’ Josh was making an effort to be fair. ‘She brought us some sweets once. But she’d rather be with Dad than us. We’ve only met her a few times and she always thinks we should go outside and play.’ He pulled a face. ‘Even when it’s raining.’

Their earlier row forgotten, Maxine retorted indignantly. ‘And what does your father have to say about that?’

Sometimes Josh seemed wiser than his years. His gaze drifting back towards the television screen, where Tom was beating hell out of Jerry, he replied absently, ‘Most of Dad’s girlfriends make too much of a fuss over us because they think it’ll make him like them more, and then maybe he’ll marry them. I think Dad likes Serena because she doesn’t do that. He says at least she’s honest.’

Nifty reasoning, though Maxine appreciatively. On both sides.

‘If I go and get the scissors,’ said Ella, ‘will you cut my hair off now?’

Chapter 14

Thanks to the appalling weather, business in the shop was slow. Few people, it seemed, were interested in buying flowers when it was pouring with rain. Janey and Paula, guiltily eating cream cakes from the bakery next door, passed the time by doing the crossword in the local paper and taking it in turn to make endless mugs of tea.

‘What’s a nice chap like me doing in an advertisement like this?’ Paula read aloud as Janey emerged from the back of the shop with yet more tea.

‘How many letters?’ Janey asked, easing herself back onto her stool and peering across at the paper. ‘Could it be Jeremy Beadle?’

‘God forbid!’ Paula grinned and pointed to the next page. ‘I’m on to the Personal column.

Don’t you ever read it?’

‘No.’ Pulling a face, Janey followed Paula’s index finger and read the rest of the advert. ‘ "I am a good-looking male, thirty-four, with a whacky sense of humour." Hmm, probably means he’s into serious spanking. "Fun-loving partner required, five feet three or under." Ah, so he’s an extremely short spanker. "Age, looks and marital status unimportant." That means he’s totally desperate.’

‘OK,’ said Paula, conceding the point. ‘He doesn’t sound great, I’ll admit.’

‘Great? He sounds like a nerd.’

‘But they aren’t all like that. How about this one? "Divorced male, forty, own home and car, new to the area. Likes dining out, theatre, tennis, long walks ..." What’s wrong with him?’

Janey said unforgivingly, ‘BO I expect.’

‘Don’t be mean! Why are you so suspicious?’

‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘If he’s so terrific, why does he need to advertise in the Lonely Hearts?’

‘He’s new to the area and he doesn’t want to cruise the bars picking up girls,’ said Paula, springing to his defence. ‘Because the type of girl he likes doesn’t hang around bars waiting to be picked up. There’s nothing weird or sinister about advertising in the Personals,’ she added firmly. ‘Sometimes it’s just the most sensible thing to do.’

Janey had never thought of it like that. Neither would she ever have imagined that Paula would argue the case so strongly. Her curiosity aroused, she said, ‘Have you done this kind of thing yourself?’

‘No, but a friend of mine tried it once. And it worked for her.’

‘What happened?’

The younger girl broke into a grin. ‘She met a tall blond airline pilot. Within six weeks, they were married. And they’re amazingly happy.’ Paula, who could give Maxine a run for her money where bluntness was concerned, added, ‘You should try it.’

Startled, Janey laughed aloud. ‘Me?’

‘It’s been two years now since Alan ... disappeared.’ Paula fixed her with a steady gaze. ‘I know it’s been hard for you, but you really should be starting to think about the rest of your life.

You’re only twenty-eight, Janey. You need to start going out, meeting new people ... having fun...’

‘And you seriously think this is the answer?’ Deeply sceptical, Janey said, ‘That by answering a few crazy adverts in the local paper I’ll change my life?’