‘Oh. So you’re still seeing him.’

Maxine sounded disappointed. This had to be a first for her, thought Janey with a flicker of triumph. Two attractive men, neither of them the least bit interested in ever-popular, oh-so-irresistible Maxine Vaughan. Not what she was used to at all.

‘I am,’ she said with pride.

Now it was Janey’s turn to be annoyed. ‘Such enthusiasm,’ she snapped. ‘You were the one who nagged me to find myself a man, and now I have. Couldn’t you at least pretend to be pleased?’

Maxine sighed. Although diplomacy had never been one of her strong points, she recognized that she would have to tread with care. ‘But he’s somebody else’s man,’ she said, her tone even. ‘Janey, is this wise? What about the girl he’s living with?’

Janey’s mouth narrowed. This was rich; couldn’t-careless Maxine was giving her a moral lecture. Talk about double standards.

‘Look, Nina knows what he’s like and she accepts it. If she doesn’t mind, why should I?’

‘Oh, so you’ve asked her.’ Maxine threw her a challenging stare.

‘Of course I haven’t asked her.’ Beginning to feel cornered, Janey retaliated crossly, ‘And I can’t believe I’m hearing this holier-than-thou rubbish from someone who once had an affair with a man because she’d "forgotten" he was married!’

‘That was me,’ said Maxine, forcing herself to keep calm. ‘I’m different. But darling, sneaking around with a married man simply isn’t your style. You’re too nice ...’

‘Bruno isn’t married.’

This was Janey’s mantra, the phrase with which she endlessly comforted herself in order to justify her actions. Of course the situation wasn’t ideal, of course she wasn’t proud of herself, but at least Bruno was not married.

‘She’s his common-law wife,’ Maxine continued remorselessly. ‘They’ve been together for years.’ Then she softened. ‘Oh Janey, that isn’t why I’m against it. I just don’t want you to end up getting hurt, and I’m so afraid you will. Bruno isn’t your type of man. He’s—’

‘You mean he’s your type,’ Janey countered bitterly. ‘And you don’t want me to have fun.

Well I’ve spent the last twenty months not having any fun and I’m not going to go back to that again. I like Bruno and he likes me. A lot.’

For the first times their rôles had been reversed. Maxine, struggling to keep her older sister on the straight and narrow, and to prevent her from being hurt, realized that she wasn’t making a roaring success of the operation. It wasn’t as simple, she thought ruefully, as Janey had always made it look. But if she told her exactly what Bruno had suggested the other night she would only splatter Janey’s fragile self-confidence and probably lose her friendship into the bargain.

Hell, it was hard being a good guy.

‘I’m sure he likes you,’ she said cautiously. ‘But I still don’t think he’s the right man for you, sweetheart.’

‘Stop it!’ Janey had had enough. With a look of disdain she rose to her feet. ‘I know it’s come as a shock to the system but you’re just going to have to face up to it. Bruno prefers me.

And you’re jealous.’

* * *

Life at the moment, Maxine decided, wasn’t being very fair. Returning to Trezale House, she ran into Guy at the foot of the stairs.

‘I’ve been trying to work,’ he said, gesturing with a handful of contact prints in the direction of the darkroom, ‘and the bloody phone keeps ringing. Someone called Bruno has rung three times asking to speak to you. He wants you to phone him back as soon as possible.’

Serena’s car was parked on the driveway outside. Glancing at it through the hall window, Maxine said, ‘Can’t Serena answer the telephone?’

‘She’s in the bath.’

Josh and Maxine had taken to laying bets on the duration of Serena’s famous baths. The longest so far had been an hour and forty minutes. Maxine hoped Josh was upstairs, timing this one. Keeping a straight face, she said, ‘Oh, right.’

‘She also tells me that you lost your temper with her this afternoon.’

Maxine’s dark eyes flashed. ‘And did she happen to mention why?’

Guy nodded. For a moment she thought she detected a glimmer of a smile.

‘OK, maybe she went a bit far but there was still no need for you to fly off the handle like that. We all have to make allowances if we’re going to get on together.’

‘Nobody else does,’ Maxine retorted sulkily. ‘I don’t see why I should have to be the one who makes all the allowances around here.’

‘You aren’t the only one,’ he countered, his tone brisk. ’I’ve answered the phone three times this evening, haven’t I? And I’m passing on the message, even though I don’t approve of what you’re up to.’

‘What I’m up to?’ She looked astonished. ‘Tell me, what am I up to?’

‘Oh come on,’ Guy drawled. ‘It isn’t too difficult to figure out. Bruno, I presume, is Bruno Parry-Brent. I might not know him that well, but I’ve heard enough to know what he’s like. And now he’s panting down the phone after you. Or as near as dammit.’

‘It’s none of your business why he’s ringing up,’ Maxine countered furiously.

‘Of course it isn’t. I just thought you might have had a bit more sense than to get involved with a married man. He’s hardly ringing up to check table reservations, is he?’

‘He isn’t married,’ hissed Maxine.This was ridiculous, now she sounded like Janey. ‘And I’m not involved with him! I don’t even like the man.’

‘Oh please.’ At this, Guy rolled his eyes. ‘If they’re male, you like them. If they’re female, Bruno likes them. Let’s face it Maxine, the two of you are a perfectly matched pair.’

‘Come out with me tomorrow night,’ said Bruno.

‘No, I don’t want to go out with you tomorrow night.’ Maxine, who had deliberately waited until Guy was in the room before returning Bruno’s call, spoke the words slowly and clearly. For good measure she added, ‘Or any other night. Bruno, I’ve told you before; I’m just not interested.’

‘I know.’ He sounded amused. ‘But I am. And the harder you play to get, the more interested I become.’

Maxine shot a triumphant glance at Guy, who was reading the paper and eating the children’s Jaffa cakes. ‘The answer’s still no.’

Guy, apparently engrossed in his horoscope, didn’t react.

At the other end of the line Bruno laughed. ‘Hasn’t anyone ever told you that the saintly act doesn’t suit you? Come on now, you owe me one night out at least. Have you any idea how much it cost me to get the nail varnish cleaned off that car seat?’

‘Serves you right,’ said Maxine briskly. And no, I don’t owe you anything. If you’re so determined to go out tomorrow night I suggest you take Nina.’

Guy ate another Jaffa cake.

‘She’s gone to stay with her sister in Kent.’

Maxine almost blurted out: ‘Take Janey, then, instead,’ though why she should bother to protect her gullible sister’s reputation from Guy she didn’t know. Instead, she said smoothly,

‘Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone else to keep you company.’

‘I’m sure I will,’ Bruno replied good-naturedly. ‘It’s just that you were my first choice.’

‘What a shame you aren’t mine,’ Maxine retorted. ‘Goodbye.’

When she hung up, Guy lifted his head from the paper. Returning his gaze with pride, Maxine said, ‘There.’

‘Totally believable,’ he remarked dryly, shaking the last Jaffa cake out of the box. ‘The best piece of acting I’ve seen in years. Who were you talking to, the speaking clock?’

Chapter 23

Sunday mornings were funny creatures, Thea decided. Waking up alone on a Sunday morning, as far as she was concerned, was downright depressing. In the first months after the break-up of her marriage, she had spent each week dreading those few hideous hours above all others. Solitary Sunday mornings, like solitary Christmases, were the absolute pits.

And then there were the other kind .. .

‘What are you thinking?’ asked Oliver, leaning across and brushing a croissant flake from her cleavage.

Thea smiled at him. ‘That there really isn’t anything more wonderful than lying in bed on a Sunday with fresh croissants, lots of newspapers and a superb lover.’

‘Does that mean I trail in third?’ he protested. ‘Behind food and The Times?’

‘No.’ As she kissed his cheek, the newspapers crackled between them. ‘They’re nice but they aren’t crucial. Having you here is what makes it so wonderful.’ Her smile widening, she pushed back her long white hair. And of course there is the even more wonderful added bonus ...’

Oliver smirked. ‘That I’m a superb lover.’

‘Actually,’ said Thea, ‘it’s that you’re so good at crosswords.’ She chuckled in delight. It was the most gorgeous day but she didn’t even want to venture outside. Oliver was here with her and that was all that mattered.

Oliver, however, was still hungry. ‘If we’d stayed at the hotel we could have called room service,’ he grumbled.

Remembering to buy the croissants and a jar of black cherry jam had stretched Thea to the domestic limits. Never having been the type to keep a fridge bursting with cold roast chicken, smoked ham, good wine and strawberries, she knew with certainty that the only items currently in occupation were three opened jars of mayonnaise in various stages of senility, a Body Shop eye mask for hangovers, and a mango. But what the hell, she decided comfortably. I’m an artist.

I’m allowed to be a slob.

‘I don’t have any more food, we shall have to starve,’ she told Oliver, lifting her face to his for another kiss. ‘There, you see? A prime example of why I must never marry you. I’m hopeless in the kitchen. Within weeks you’d be a shadow of your handsome former self and screaming for a divorce.’

‘I would not!’ He looked astonished. ‘We’d have a housekeeper.’

‘To cater for our every whim?’ Thea mocked. ‘How exotic!’

‘I’m being serious. And meanwhile ...’ Picking up the phone beside the bed, he punched out the number of his hotel.

‘How marvellous,’ Thea sighed, when he had spoken to the restaurant manager and arranged for two three-course lunches to be sent over by taxi within the hour. ‘The power of the favoured customers.’

‘The power of money.’ Oliver dismissed it with a shrug. ‘It’s not such a big deal.’

‘It’s a big deal when it means you get to eat rack of lamb with fennel instead of dial-a-pizza,’ Thea said happily. She might not cook but she still adored exquisite food.

‘If you’re that easily impressed,’ Oliver retorted, ‘I don’t know why you won’t marry me.

Then you could eat whatever you liked, go wherever you liked ...’

As Thea sat up, the sheet dropped away, revealing her nakedness. Trailing the back of her hand across Oliver’s cheek, she felt the bristly soft texture of his moustache against her skin.

‘Don’t be cross with me,’ she chided, her tone gentle. ‘If I said yes, people would wonder if I’d married you for your money. I would wonder if I’d married you for your money! But this way it doesn’t matter, because I love you anyway. I’m already where I want to be and I’m doing exactly what I want to do. As far as I’m concerned, this is as perfect as it gets.’

Oliver was in the shower when the doorbell rang. Thea, only vaguely decent in an embroidered black silk robe which showed off her splendid bosom, and with her long white hair still hanging loose down her back, was padding barefoot around the kitchen in search of matching cutlery.

As she headed for the front door, her stomach rumbled. Lobster mousse, rack of lamb, fresh fruit salad and two bottles of Chardonnay were going to go down very well indeed. But three figures were silhouetted through the patterned glass and none of them appeared to be carrying trays of sumptuous food.

One outline was instantly recognizable, the other two were short. Thea groaned. It was too late to shrink back and pretend not to be at home. Whilst she hesitated, she heard a young girl enquire in high-pitched tones, ‘So if she’s your mother, does that mean she’s really old?’

‘Ancient,’ Maxine replied. ‘Over forty.’

Thea took a deep breath and opened the door. ‘But young at heart,’ she declared, praying that Oliver wouldn’t choose this moment to break into song upstairs. ‘Darling, how lovely to see you, but you really should have phoned. I’m in a tearing hurry, about to go out .. .

‘Just five minutes then.’ Since it hadn’t for a moment occurred to Maxine that she might not be welcome, she was already halfway through the door, ushering her two small charges into the hallway ahead of her. ‘Mum, this is Ella, and this is Josh, and am I glad you’re home. We’ve walked all the way from Trezale House and I forgot to bring any money with me. If you could lend me a fiver for cold drinks ...’