‘He’s leaving now,’ Maxine had shrieked, minutes earlier. ‘Put in a good word for me, Janey, and tell him I deserve a pay rise.’

In order not to give the game away, however, she looked dutifully surprised to see him.

‘I’ve come to thank you,’ Guy said simply. Then, breaking into a grin, he added, ‘But I have a bit of a problem. If it had been anyone else, I would have brought them flowers ...’

If there was one major drawback to this job, thought Janey, it was that nobody ever brought you flowers.

‘The story of my life,’ she replied with a good-humoured shrug. ‘But you don’t need to thank me, anyway. You helped me when I had a problem; all I did was return the favour.’

‘Rather more than that,’ said Guy. ‘And I’m still grateful. I was going to bring you chocolates but Maxine insisted they’d wreck your slimming campaign.’ Studying her figure for a moment he frowned and added, ‘Are you really on a diet?’

‘Oh dear.’ Janey looked amused. ‘Does that mean it isn’t working?’

‘It means you don’t need to lose weight.’

Acutely aware of his speculative gaze still upon her, Janey flushed with embarrassment. It was all very well for Guy Cassidy to say she didn’t need to diet, but she couldn’t help noticing that men like him only ever chose girlfriends as thin as sticks, the kind who could step out of a size-fourteen skirt without even undoing the zip.

‘How is Ella?’ she said, changing the subject.

‘Recovering nicely.’ Guy smiled. ‘And passionately attached to the bandage. She doesn’t really need it any more but whenever we suggest taking it off, the limp gets worse.’

‘And Josh?’

This time he pulled a face. ‘You mean my modest son? He’s cast himself in the role of rescuing hero. By the time he goes back to school next week he’ll probably have awarded himself an OBE at the very least.’

Janey laughed. ‘So everything’s all right then, at home. Business as usual.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t quite say that.’ He gave her an ambiguous look. ‘And it’s nice of you to ask, but I’m sure you know all the latest developments. Every time I’ve picked up the phone during the last few days,’ he added pointedly, ‘it’s wafted Maxine’s perfume back at me. And the receiver’s always warm.’

Caught out, she said, ‘Ah.’

‘So I’ll just say the situation has been dealt with.’

At that moment a customer entered the shop behind him. Guy, leaning against the counter, lowered his voice. ‘And since flowers and chocolates are out of the window, how about a couple of theatre tickets instead?’

‘You really don’t have to,’ protested Janey.

‘I want to. And the tickets are for Saturday night. Do you have someone you’d like to take with you?’

Flustered by the unexpectedness of the question, she said, ‘Um ... well. Maybe Maxine?’

‘What a shame, she has to stay at home and babysit,’ Guy replied briskly. ‘Never mind, perhaps I’ll do instead.’

Behind him, the woman customer waved a bunch of dripping gladioli. Distracted, wondering whether he had just said what she thought he’d said, Janey stammered, ‘Y-you mean ...?’

‘Well you can hardly invite Bruno, can you?’ Guy grinned. ‘So that’s settled. I’ll pick you up on Saturday. What time do you close the shop?’

‘Um ... f-five o’clock.’

‘Good. It doesn’t take you too long to get ready, does it? I’ll pick you up at six.’

From her upstairs window, Janey watched as Guy expertly reversed the Mercedes into a parking space just outside the shop. As she had suspected, he was bang on time. Her stomach squirmed, the jitters refusing to subside. It was silly to be nervous, since it wasn’t even a proper date, but still the adrenaline coursed through her bloodstream, working overtime practically of its own accord.

It would be far easier, she thought, if only Guy Cassidy weren’t so physically attractive.

Such exceptional good looks were downright intimidating. Talking to him the other night in the privacy of her own home had been one thing, but this evening they were going to be seen out together in public, looking for all the world like a real couple. She was only too well aware of how she measured up against such willowy exotic beauties as Serena Charlton. In the back of her mind lurked the nightmare scenario that other people, observing them together, might be sniggering behind her back at such an unlikely pairing.

But it wasn’t a real date, and at least she knew that even if they didn’t As Maxine had carelessly remarked, upon learning of the outing, ‘I expect he just feels sorry for you because you never have any fun.’

My sister, thought Janey, such a comfort to have around. At least with Maxine to remind her of her failings, she wasn’t likely to get ideas above her station. And, as she had done with James, she was trusting to fate that they wouldn’t bump into anyone they knew at the theatre.

Then, she had been the embarrassed one. This time, she thought ruefully, the tables of justice had been well and truly turned. If anyone was going to be embarrassed tonight, it was Guy.

When she opened the front door, however, he looked both surprised and pleased to see her.

‘You’re ready! Amazing.’

He was used to being kept waiting, of course, by glamorous women incapable of leaving the house until their three-hour beauty routines were complete. janey, who had showered, changed and done her face in lessthan thirty minutes because she hadn’t been able to close the shop before five-thirty, felt intimidated already.

But it wasn’t a proper date, she reminded herself for the tenth time in as many minutes, so it really didn’t matter. All she had to do was relax, stop feeling nervous and enjoy the evening for its own sake.

‘Well, I hate to say it,’ she said, as Guy opened the passenger door for her, ‘but aren’t we going to be horribly early? What time does the play start?’

‘Ah.’ He smiled. ‘I have a favour to ask.’

Oh, that disarming smile. Like magic, Janey’s butterflies disappeared.The prospect of seeing Guy again might have been nerve-racking but she’d forgotten how good he was at putting her at her ease. Now, miraculously, her anxieties melted away.

‘A favour?’ She gave him a deadpan look. ‘Don’t tell me.You want me to pay for the tickets.’

‘Much worse than that.’ Guy grinned. ‘Some friends of mine are having a party and I promised I’d drop in on them. We’d just stay for an hour or so, then go on to the theatre for eight.’ He paused and gave her a swift sidelong glance. ‘Would that be OK with you, or is it a complete pain?’

It wasn’t what she’d expected, that was for sure. Pulling a face, Janey said, ‘Parties aren’t exactly my favourite thing at the moment. Look, why don’t I wait here? You could go on to the party on your own, see your friends and meet me at the theatre later.’

‘Don’t be such a wimp.’ Guy was already putting the car briskly into gear. ‘It isn’t that kind of party, anyway.

Mimi and Jack are extremely nice people. You’ll love them.’

He hadn’t been asking her whether she’d like to go with him, Janey realized. He’d been telling her.

‘Won’t they mind, when you turn up with me in tow?’ she protested.

‘Mind?’ He laughed. ‘They’ll be thrilled to bits. They’re expecting me to bring Serena.’

Chapter 31

Mimi and Jack Margason lived in a splendid old rectory on the outskirts of Truro. Mimi, welcoming them at the door, gave Guy an immense hug and did a delighted double-take when she saw Janey.

‘My darling man! Come along now, make my day and tell me you’ve dumped dreary Deirdre for good.’

Guy, turning to grin at Janey, said, ‘Told you they didn’t like her.’

‘Serena? Ghastly girl,’ Mimi declared, planting a big kiss on his cheek. ‘As skinny as a string bean and about as interesting to talk to. Or is that an insult to string beans?’

Having steeled herself for the worst – because with a name like Mimi the very least one could expect was glamour, glitz, drop-dead chic and probably a French accent to boot – this Mimi came as a marvellous surprise to Janey. It wasn’t hard to understand, either, why Mimi considered Serena dreary and thin. At a conservative estimate, she had to weigh all of fifteen stone herself. Her long, extremely yellow hair was piled up and loosely secured with blue velvet bows, two biros and a chopstick. A billowing pink-and-silver blouse was worn over a long violet skirt. Mimi’s round, laughing face was dominated by a wide mouth, many chins and a great deal of haphazardly applied violet eyeshadow. Her age wasn’t easy to gauge but she was probably in her late fifties. She was also wearing the largest, most elaborate silver earrings Janey had ever seen in her life.

‘This is Janey,’ said Guy, performing the introductions. ‘And she’s just a friend so spare her the in-depth cross-examination because it won’t get you anywhere. Janey, this is Mimi Margason, my very own Beryl Cooke character come to life. She’s also the nosiest woman in England, so hang on to your secrets ...’

‘Oh, don’t be so boring.’ With a chuckle, Mimi ushered them into the house. ‘But since you’re the first guests to arrive, it’s lovely to see you anyway. Now come through to the kitchen

— oops, mind those wellies — and let Jack get you a drink. If he offers you the elderflower champagne,’ she murmured furtively, ‘for Pete’s sake smack your lips and look appreciative. It might taste like old pea pods but it’s his pride and joy.’

The kitchen was vast, rose-scented and hugely untidy. Mimi had evidently raided the garden that day; upon the twelve-foot-long windowsill stood three enormous, unmatched vases.The poor roses themselves, jammed in willy-nilly irrespective of size and colour, looked like far too many strangers squashed uncomfortably together in a lift.

‘I know!’ said Mimi cheerfully, having intercepted Janey’s glance in their direction. ‘I can’t organize flowers to save my life. Poor Jack spends all his spare time in the garden, pruning and chivvying them along, and then ‘I have to do that to them. Ruined, in ten minutes flat.’

‘They aren’t ruined.’ Moving closer, Janey admired the blooms which had evidently been tended with devotion. ‘They’re beautiful. All they need is a bit of .. . sorting out.’

‘I suppose I’m just not the sorting-out type.’ With an unrepentant shrug, Mimi indicated the rest of the chaotic kitchen where, at the far end, the two men were already deep in conversation.

She elaborated, ‘We love this house, but let’s face it — we’re never going to be featured in House & Garden. Now come along, let’s find you that drink and then we can get down to some serious gossip. I can give you all the dirt on dreadful Deirdre.’

‘Actually,’ said Janey, ‘I did meet her a few times. I already know how dreadful she is.’

Mimi’s eyes gleamed. ‘In that case, you can tell me how you got yourself involved with gorgeous Guy.’

‘Oh dear, this is going to come as such a disappointment to you.’ Janey gave her an apologetic smile. ‘But I’m afraid we really aren’t involved.’

Mimi, however, was not easily swayed. ‘You mean it’s early days yet and you don’t want to say too much about it,’ she stage-whispered with the smug air of one who knows better.

‘I mean there’s nothing to say too much about.’ Janey, beginning to realize that the more she protested, the more convinced Mimi would become that something delightfully illicit was going on, decided that this was a problem only Guy could sort out. Glancing once more at the poor, half-suffocated roses on the windowsill, she said suddenly, ‘Look, why don’t you find me a nice sharp knife?’

‘Help!’ Mimi burst out laughing. ‘Who are you thinking of using it on – me for asking too many questions? Or Guy, just to prove you aren’t madly in love with him?’

Janey grinned. ‘Your flowers. Let me do something to them before the rest of your guests arrive. And if you could lay your hands on some old newspapers and a couple more vases ...’

‘Amazing.’ Having rummaged in a drawer, Mimi handed her a well-used Sabatier boning knife. Eagerly, she grabbed the bowls of roses and lined them up in front of Janey. ‘The lengths some people will go to in order to get out of sampling my husband’s beloved elderflower champagne. I say,’ she added admiringly as Janey set to work with the knife, ‘you really know what you’re doing, don’t you!’

With deft fingers, Janey separated a dozen or so deep, creamy yellow Casanovas from a tangle of coppery pink Albertines, trimmed their stems and stripped them of their waterlogged lower leaves. ‘Plenty of practice,’ she said, with a brief smile. ‘I’m a florist.’