‘Oh, surprise, I think.’ Guy’s father winked at her. He really was tons nicer than Guy, she decided. She’d never really gone for older men before, but he was almost enough to make her think again.

‘Can ‘I get you a drink?’ she said brightly, but Oliver Cassidy shook his head.

‘That’s kind of you, my dear, but I’d better not. I’m driving.’

‘It’s a beautiful car,’ said Maxine.

‘My great pride and joy.’ He nodded, acknowledging her admiration. ‘I thought Josh and Ella might enjoy a ride in it before I leave. If you have no objections, that is.’

‘Of course not!’ Maxine’s reply was almost vehement, her approval of Guy’s father was increasing in leaps and bounds. And now she would be able to sunbathe in peace after all.

‘Take them out for as long as you like,’ she told him happily. ‘I’m sure they’d love a trip in your car. What a shame, though, that you’ll miss seeing Guy.’

‘I cannot ... simply can not believe you could be so stupid!’

He was more furious than Maxine had ever imagined possible. ‘Fury’ wasn’t enough to describe his emotions. ‘Rage’ wasn’t good enough either. Guy simply looked as if he wanted to kill her.

This is it, she thought numbly. Now I really am out of a job and on to the streets.

Almost more galling, however, was the fact that Serena appeared to be on her side.

‘Look,’ said Maxine, struggling to defend herself and willing herself not to lose her temper.

‘I’ve already said I’m sorry, but how on earth was I supposed to know I was doing the wrong thing? He just turned up on the doorstep like any normal grandfather and said he’d cometo see Josh and Ella. From the way he acted, I assumed he was a regular visitor. And he seemed perfectly nice—’

‘Yes, darling,’ put in Serena, her tone soothing.

Her defence of Maxine’s actions was wholly astonishing as far as Maxine was concerned, and coming from any other quarter it would have afforded her some small comfort to know that she wasn’t as negligent as Guy was making out.

‘It isn’t Maxine’s fault that you and your father aren’t on speaking terms,’ Serena went on.

‘If you didn’t want him to see the children you should have told her.’

His eyes glittered. ‘He’s seen them once before. Only once, when he wasn’t given any alternative. So it was hardly likely that he’d turn up.’

Serena shrugged as if to say, Well, there you are then, but Guy hadn’t finished.

‘Besides, that’s hardly the point.’ Turning back to Maxine, he said icily, ‘He could have been anybody. Josh and Ella could have been kidnapped, held to ransom .. . murdered.’

‘He wasn’t a kidnapper,’ shouted Maxine. ‘He was your father.’

‘You mean he told you he was my father.’

Stung by his derisory tone, she snapped back. ‘He looked like you. Only better.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’

Maxine had had enough. It wasn’t as if Josh and Ella had been at all harmed, anyway. True to his word, Oliver Cassidy had taken them out in the Rolls, given them afternoon tea at one of the better beach-front hotels and delivered them back safely at five o’clock, as promised. He had even left them each clutching a crisp fifty-pound note because, as he’d explained to Maxine, it was hard to know what to buy children these days now that train sets and dolls were passé. It wasn’t until after he’d left that she’d made the alarming discovery that Josh and Ella didn’t actually know their grandfather. Although being on the receiving end of fifty-pound notes certainly went some way towards persuading them that they should.

‘Go on then,’ she said abruptly, rising to her feet and glaring back at Guy. ‘You’re dying to do it, so sack me. Find yourself a new nanny who’ll safety-pin the children to her ankles and shoot any strangers on sight. In the meantime, I’m sure Serena would just adore to stay on for a few more weeks and look after them herself.’

Too late she remembered that Serena had been sticking up for her, although it hardly mattered now. If she was out on her ear she’d never see either of them again anyway.

As far as Serena was concerned, however, the bitter jibe was too true to be offensive. ‘I’ve got work lined up,’ she said hurriedly. ‘My agent would kill me if I tried to cancel anything now.’

Guy crossed to the drinks tray and poured himself a stiff Scotch. Part of him still wanted to kill Maxine but he was making an effort to calm down. Since even Serena had defended Maxine’s actions, he realized now that the hatred he bore his father had led him to overreact.

Maxine undoubtedly had her faults, but the fact remained that Josh and Ella adored her. And although he still didn’t have the faintest idea why his father had turned up out of the blue, they had enjoyed themselves. Josh had only been six and Ella four when Véronique had taken them to meet him and even if they dimly recalled the events of that day they clearly hadn’t connected them with this afternoon’s surprise visitor. Both children had thoroughly enjoyed themselves and Josh, who was smitten with expensive cars — not to mention crisp new bank notes — was already asking when they might see him again.

As far as Guy was concerned, ‘when hell freezes over’ was the phrase that sprang most readily to mind, but it was a reply he’d kept to himself. And he supposed that, given the circumstances, Maxine couldn’t really have been expected to refuse entry to an apparently charming relative visiting his much-loved grandchildren.

Draining his Scotch, he turned back to find Maxine, the picture of belligerence, still glaring at him. With her blond hair ruffled, she looked like an indignant parakeet.

‘Oh cheer up,’ he said with a trace of exasperation. ‘I’m not going to sack you. Just take a bit more care in future, OK? They might not be the best behaved kids in the world but they’re all I’ve got, so I’d quite like to hang on to them if I could.’

Chapter 17

It was all happening amazingly quickly. Janey, who had envisaged a wait of at least a fortnight before hearing anything back from Mr Presentable, had been caught so off-guard by his phone call that before she could gather her wits she heard herself agreeing to meet him that evening. Profoundly grateful that Paula wasn’t in the shop at the time, she added hurriedly, ‘Why don’t you wear a carnation? Then I’ll be able to recognize you.’

‘Why don’t you just look out for a tall, dark-haired man in a navy blue blazer and grey flannels?’ he countered, sounding faintly amused. ‘I’m not really the carnation-wearing type.’

‘Oh.’ Crestfallen, and on behalf of florists everywhere, Janey said, ‘Why not?’

‘Every time I put one in my buttonhole,’ he replied, ‘I find myself getting married.’

His name was Alexander Norcross and he had two ex-wives, a dark blue Porsche and a small cottage on the outskirts of Trelissick. Janey also suspected that his refusal to wear a carnation was due to the fact that it would have meant buying one.

‘No, we decided against children,’ he explained, over lukewarm coffee in a quiet bar away from the seafront which Janey had suggested because nobody she knew ever went there. ‘They cost an absolute fortune. My wives tried to make me change my mind, of course, but I wasn’t having any of it. There’s no way I could have afforded to keep the Porsche on the road and bring up kids as well.’ Leaning across the table he added confidentially, ‘So I got out each time they started hankering, before they had a chance to pull the old "Oops, how did that happen?" routine.

It isn’t as if they really wanted children, after all. They just saw their friends doing it and didn’t want to miss out. It didn’t even occur to them to consider the expense.’

It was truly astounding, thought Janey, that someone so mean with money should be so generous with his aftershave. Great wafts of Old Spice were whooshing up her nose. It even seemed to have invaded her cup of coffee, which hadn’t tasted great in the first place. She wondered how soon she could decently leave.

But meeting Alexander was an education, at least. He wasn’t bad looking, he had a nice voice and he was tall. The packaging, she decided, was as much as anyone could possibly hope for. The only let-down was the fact that it belonged to a complacent, penny-pinching bore.

But there was also the irresistible challenge of discovering just how awful he could be.

Summoning up a Maxine-ish smile and working hard not to inhale too much Old Spice, she said,

‘So has advertising been a success? I expect you’ve met lots of girls.’

‘Ah, but it’s quality that counts.’ Alexander gave her a knowing look. ‘Not quantity. I’ve found the initial telephone conversations to be revealing, Jane. All some of these females are interested in is a free meal, which is when I make my excuses. That’s why I was so interested in meeting you,’ he added happily. ‘As soon as I read your letter, I felt we had something in common. And when you suggested we meet for a quick drink, I knew I was right.’

‘Thank you,’ murmured Janey, by this time struggling to keep a straight face. ‘After all, why should people need to eat in order to get to know one another?’

‘Exactly my point!’ Alexander looked positively triumphant. Finishing his cold coffee, he pushed the cup and saucer an inch or two in her direction. ‘And when you consider the ridiculous prices restaurants charge for an omelette ... well, I call it money down the drain. I’d rather stay at home and know I wasn’t being ripped off. How about you Jane?’ he added, gazing at her with renewed interest and approval. ‘Do you cook?’

Thanking her lucky stars she hadn’t pinned all her hopes on Alexander Norcross, Janey was longing to tell someone the story of the brief encounter which - bizarrely - had gone some way towards restoring her own self-confidence.

‘It was so ghastly it ended up being funny,’ she said to Bruno the following morning, grinning as she recalled the way Alexander had complained to the bar manager about the price of a cup of coffee. ‘He was so awful, but he really thought he was Britain’s answer to Mel Gibson.

If you could have seen the look on his face when I said I wouldn’t be seeing him again—’

Was he handsome?’

‘Oh yes, but such a jerk! When I got back to the flat I was dying to phone Maxine to give her all the gory details, but I’d already decided not to tell her anything about answering the ad. I shouldn’t be telling you, either.’ Janey tried to look repentant, and failed. ‘You’re just as likely to make fun of me as she is. But it was funny, and I had to tell someone.’

‘It certainly seems to have cheered you up,’ remarked Bruno, inwardly appalled that she should have been driven to reply to a newspaper advert in the first place. ‘But Janey, aren’t you taking a bit of a risk? You don’t need to do that kind of thing. A gorgeous girl like you could take her pick of men.’

Colouring at the compliment, even if it was only Bruno saying what he would no doubt say to anyone under the age of ninety, she resorted to flippancy. ‘Yes, well. The neighbours were starting to complain about the queues outside my front door so ‘I thought I’d try going about it another way.’

‘Hmm.’ Bruno, who wasn’t stupid, surveyed her through narrowed eyes. ‘Or does it have something to do with that noisy, pushy sister of yours?’

Janey could have hugged him. She’d been so sure he would be entranced by Maxine. Her self-confidence rose by yet another notch. ‘Not at all,’ she lied, relaxing visibly but still not quite daring to admit that she’d placed an advertisement of her own. ‘I just thought I’d give it a go. It didn’t work out. End of story.’

‘I should bloody well hope so.’ Bruno glanced at his watch and saw that he’d have to get a move on if they were to open for lunch. Janey was gorgeous, he thought. She deserved a hell of a lot better than a guy with a Porsche and a padlocked wallet. ‘Look, I could get away early tonight.’ As he spoke, he began unpacking the box of flowers she had brought to the restaurant, pink carnations and sweet-smelling lilac today to match the new tablecloths. ‘If you aren’t doing anything, why don’t we go out for something to eat?’

‘Oh!’ Janey looked astonished. After a moment’s hesitation, she said, ‘But this is your restaurant. Shouldn’t we eat here?’

‘That would make it business.’ Bruno gave her one of his most irresistible smiles. ‘What I had in mind was pleasure.’

‘But you’re—’

‘I’m not married,’ he reminded her. ‘And I don’t argue with bar managers about the price of coffee, either.’

‘But—’

‘No more excuses,’ said Bruno, his tone firm. ‘I’ll pick you up at ten.’