Charlotte, who was gazing with fascination at the water-skiing racing driver, drawled, ‘Do you know, those boxer shorts are completely see-through.’

‘Enthralling.’ Guy returned his attention to Janey. ‘We hadn’t planned to come here ourselves; Charlotte pressganged me into partnering her at a charity dinnerat some castle in Bodmin but it was so Godawful we escaped at half-time.’

‘Between the main course and the sweet.’ Charlotte, gazing fondly up at Guy, slid her hand into his.

‘I didn’t particularly want to come here, either,’ said Guy. ‘Bruno Parry-Brent isn’t one of my favourite people but he knows how to throw a party. And at least the food’s edible.’

Janey raised her eyebrows. ‘Does this mean you’re gatecrashing?’

‘Oh, I was invited too.’ He looked amused. ‘Probably because I’m a good customer and Bruno felt I deserved to be thanked.’

Charlotte, who evidently felt that Guy was spending too much time talking to a rival female, gave his arm a possessive tug. ‘Come on, darling, we’re missing all the fun.’

‘Hooray,’ said Guy. On the dance floor the water-skier had now been joined by a fat man in a bikini with a surfboard under his arm. ‘Why don’t you go and dance with them?’

‘I’ve got a much better idea.’ Charlotte wasn’t about to give in. Her green eyes glittered.

‘Why don’t you come and dance with me?’

‘Oh look, there’s Suzannah.’ Embarrassed and terribly afraid that Guy was only staying because she was on her own and he felt sorry for her, Janey waved at a girl she barely knew.

With a brief smile she said, ‘Do excuse me, I must go and say hello.’

At least Suzannah didn’t mention Bruno. ‘My boyfriend’s buggered off to Ibiza,’ she pouted. ‘Men, honestly. He didn’t even have the nerve to tell me to my face! All ‘I got was a message left on my answering machine saying he’d be back in three weeks. How about you, Janey? Are you seeing anyone at the moment?’

Out of the corner of her eye Janey glimpsed Bruno, murmuring into the ear of yet another blonde.The next moment he was kissing her neck.

‘No,’ she replied firmly. ‘Nobody at all.’

Suzannah, who was also blonde, and whose parents owned the largest yacht in Cornwall, didn’t work. Getting her hair highlighted and zipping around in her open-top jeep evidently occupied all her time.

‘Ah, but it’s all right for you,’ she told Janey. ‘You’re running your own business. At least you’ve got something to take your mind off not having a man.’

‘Of course.’ Janey managed to hide her smile. ‘It’s a great help.’

‘You’re really lucky,’ sighed Suzannah. ‘I sometimes wonder if I should think about getting a little job.’

How about Governor of the Bank of England, thought Janey. But at least she was talking to someone, even if it was only Suzannah. At this moment she couldn’t afford to be choosy.

Feigning interest, she said, ‘What kind of work are you interested in?’

‘God, I don’t know.’ Suzannah flicked back her hair with a tanned arm and half a dozen solid gold bangles jangled in unison. ‘Something easy, I suppose. Like your job.’

Janey tried to envisage Suzannah getting up at five every morning, working flat out for twelve hours a day and settling down at night to do the books. Determinedto keep a straight face even if it killed her, she said, ‘I didn’t realize you were interested in floristry.’

‘Oh, I love flowers.’ To prove her point, Suzannah gestured vaguely in the direction of a frantically gyrating girl whose purple taffeta dress was patterned with enormous yellow daisies.

‘They’re so ... um ... pretty, aren’t they?’ Then, brightening, she added, ‘In fact my boyfriend bought me a big bouquet of flowers for my birthday. And he got them from your shop.’

‘Really?’ Every cloud, thought Janey. Men, incapable of coming up with anything more imaginative for the women in their lives, were what kept her in business. ‘What were they?’

‘Red ones,’ said Suzannah, pleased with herself for having remembered. ‘Roses, I think.

With bits of funny white stuff mixed in.’

‘Cocaine?’

‘What?’

‘Sorry.’ Biting her lip, Janey said, ‘It’s called gypsophila.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘Did the roses last a long time?’ Janey couldn’t help it. She always wanted people to get the very best out of their flowers. ‘If the heads start to droop after the first week you can re-cut the stems and plunge them into boiling water for a few seconds. It works wonders.’

‘Really?’ Suzannah looked blank. ‘I forgot to put them in water when he gave them to me.

When ‘I woke up the next day they were all dead.’

The dedicated revellers were moving up a gear. People were stripping off to reveal swim suits beneath their party clothes, ready for a moonlight dip at high tide. A state-of-the-art camcorder ended up in a bowl of punch and one of the male guests, suspected of working on behalf of one of the more down-market tabloids, was handcuffed to a tree in the restaurant garden, his hairy ankles tied together by the reel of exposed film from his camera.

For Janey, introduced by Nick and Tony to an hotelier who was interested in flowers, the evening was turning out to be not so bad after all. He needed regular arrangements for his foyer and sitting rooms and a deal was struck over two hefty measures of cognac, both of which were drunk by the hotelier.

‘Sign here,’ said Janey, having written out details of the agreement on one of Bruno’s linen napkins. ‘You may not remember this tomorrow. I want something I can jog your memory with.’

‘You sound like my wife,’ he grumbled good naturedly. ‘I still don’t remember asking her to marry me. She just woke me up the next day and told me I had.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Janey grinned as he scrawled a haphazard signature across the bottom of the napkin. ‘This isn’t going to tie you down nearly as much as a wife.’

Bruno caught up with her as she was on her way to the loo.

‘I saw you,’ he murmured, catching her around the waist and pulling her towards him.

‘You’ve been talking to Eddie Beresford for the last twenty minutes.’

‘I’m amazed you even noticed.’ Bruno reeked of Shalimar. Janey tried to pull away, but he was stronger than she was. Now he was drawing her back towards the dance floor.

‘I notice everything.’ With a derisory glance in Eddie Beresford’s direction, he drawled,

‘He could hardly take his eyes off your cleavage.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Janey in pointed tones. ‘I’m sure he’s faithful to his wife.’

But Bruno didn’t make the connection. ‘He’s so ugly ‘I shouldn’t think he could find anyone to be unfaithful with. Anyway, it’s my turn now.’ His green eyes glittered as he studied Janey’s rigid face. ‘And don’t think I’ve forgotten about my birthday present either. How about a couple of dances to put us in the mood, then you head on up the stairs and make yourself ...

comfortable? I’ll have a quick drink with Guy Cassidy and the redhead, and follow you up five minutes later. If anyone spots you on the way, just tell them you feel faint.’

He’d got her as far as the dance floor but Janey wasn’t moving. Causing a major scene was the last thing she wanted.

‘I see,’ she said carefully. ‘But what should I do if the bed’s already occupied?’

Bruno laughed. ‘Sweetheart, the keys to the flat are right here in my pocket. I’m hardly going to rent out my own bedroom to whoever fancies a quickie!’

‘It’s your quickies I’m talking about.’ It was no good, she hated Bruno about as much as she despised herself for having been so weak-willed in the first place and she couldn’t contain herself a moment longer. With icy disdain she said, ‘I can’t seem to spot the blonde you were dancing with earlier. Are you sure she isn’t still up there, hunting for her knickers and hoping for a repeat performance?’

‘Oh dear.’ He gave her a mock-sorrowful look. ‘Are we jealous?’

Janey, who’d said it but hadn’t meant it, realized with a sickening jolt that she’d been right.

‘I’m not jealous.’ The urge to punch him was almost overwhelming. ‘I just can’t believe it’s taken me this long to find out what you’re really like. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid. Believe it or not, I actually trusted you..’

Bruno, who liked Janey a lot and who found her innocence particularly appealing, decided that he could bluff his way out of this one. True, she was upset, but only because she didn’t realize the sacrifices he’d made since their relationship had begun.

‘Sweetheart, there’s no need for this.’ Still smiling, he tried to draw her towards him. It was like dragging a child into the dentist’s chair. ‘You can trust me. OK, so maybe I’ve played the field a bit in the past, but if you only knew how many women I haven’t slept with since we’ve been together ... I’m a reformed character, truly I am!’

‘Liar,’ hissed Janey. ‘I spoke to Nina. You don’t have any kind of understanding.’

Bruno, determined to chivvy her out of her mood, gave her a disarming look. ‘OK, call it an unspoken agreement. Whichever, she’s hardly likely to admit it to you.’

‘And what about all the others?’ Janey countered bitterly. ‘My God, ‘I don’t know when you find time to sleep! Let go of me ... !’

This was more than a mood, he realized. Janey meant business. Oh well, it had been good fun while it lasted.

‘So what are you saying?’ He released his grip on her arms so abruptly that she almost staggered backwards. ‘That you don’t want to meet me upstairs in ten minutes after all?’

‘You arrogant bastard.’ Without her even realizing it, Janey’s eyes had filled with tears. ‘I never want to meet you again anywhere. I never want to see you again!’

Bruno’s relationships ended when he wanted them to end. He had never been dumped in his life. And if Janey thought she could get away with doing it in public, with making a fool of him at his very own party, she could suffer the consequences in return.

At that moment, by chance, the dance music which had been blaring through the speakers came to a halt. The tape had finished.

‘Oh dear,’ Bruno drawled into the ensuing silence. ‘And there I was, doing my good Samaritan bit and thinking you’d be grateful for the attention. I’m beginning to realize now why your husband might have wanted to disappear. Is that what you yelled at him, Janey? Did you tell him you never wanted to see him again?’ He paused for a second, then added with a cruel smile, ‘If you ask me, the poor sod probably couldn’t believe his luck.’

Chapter 27

It was a nightmare. A nightmare with an audience. With tears streaming down her face, Janey turned and searched frantically for the way out. All she could see was a blur of faces.

Mascara stung her eyes and she didn’t know where the hell she’d left her handbag. Her face burned with shame as she pushed her way through the crowd of riveted partygoers in what she prayed was the direction of the door.

The next moment a pair of strong arms were guiding her. Behind her a voice murmured reassuringly, ‘It’s OK, I’ve got your bag. Just keep walking.’

Janey stumbled on the steps outside the restaurant and the arms tightened their grip on her shoulders, keeping her upright. When they reached the pavement she turned to face her rescuer.

‘I’m all right. Thanks ... I’ll be f-fine now ...’

Her voice wavered and began to break as a fresh wave of humiliation swept over her.

Fumbling blindly for her bag, she tried to hide her blotched face, cruelly exposed by the bright spotlighting outside the restaurant. She must look a complete wreck; this was almost more awful than having to endure Bruno’s sneering jibes.

‘Don’t be so bloody stupid,’ said Guy, handing overher bag but keeping a firm hold on her arm. ‘You aren’t all right at all and you’re certainly in no state to drive home. Come on, give me your car keys.’

He might have come to her rescue but he wasn’t being wildly sympathetic. Still sobbing, Janey said, ‘I’m not drunk.’

He sighed. ‘I know you aren’t drunk, but you can’t see where you’re going, either. Why don’t you just give me the keys and let me drive?’

‘Because the van isn’t here.’ She sniffed loudly. ‘I walked.’

For some reason he seemed to find her reply amusing. Turning her around and leading her briskly across the road towards his own car, he said with a brief smile, ‘Fair enough.’

‘You can’t take me home.’

‘Why not?’

Janey wiped her wet face with the back of her sleeve. Sequins, like miniature knives, grazed her cheeks. ‘What about ... thingy? Charlotte?’