Flowers, however, evidently weren’t Guy Cassidy’s strong point. Looking momentarily helpless, he frowned and said, ‘Well, blue ones?’

‘Berenice likes daffodils,’ supplied Ella, tugging his white shirt sleeve. ‘Remember? We picked her some for her birthday and she said they were her favourite.’

Janey had already guessed that the flowers were for Berenice’s wedding but now that Guy’s daughter had given her the excuse she needed, she raised her eyebrows and said, ‘You mean Berenice Taylor? Oh, I’m doing her bridal bouquet.’

Put it on my bill,’ said Guy casually, producing his wallet and pulling out a wad of twenties. With a self-deprecating smile he added, ‘She’s been our nanny for the last three years.

Holding the reception at our house is my present to her.’

‘How lovely.’ Janey returned his smile, then gave Ella an apologetic shrug. ‘I’m afraid daffodils are out of season now, but maybe we could see which flowers Berenice has chosen for her bouquet and work from there. I’ll have to check to be sure, but I think she decided on a yellow and white colour scheme. Yes, that’s it ... white roses and sweet peas with mimosa.’

Guy Cassidy didn’t even flinch when she eventually wrote down the estimated cost of the work involved.

‘As long as it looks good,’ he said good-humouredly, dealing the notes on to the counter.

Then, as an apparent afterthought, he glanced down at his children and added, ‘Actually, whilst we’re here, why don’t you two pick out a bunch of something-or-other for your new nanny?

She’s arriving tomorrow afternoon and some nice flowers will make her feel welcome.’

Josh liked the green, earthy smell of the shop but he was bored sick with flowers.

‘They haven’t got dandelions or deadly nightshade,’ he said, his tone dismissive.

‘Or stinging nettles,’ put in Ella with a smirk.

Poor new nanny, thought Janey. Without speaking, she selected a generous bunch of baby-pink spray carnations, wrapped them in pink-and-silver paper and calmly handed them to Josh.

Appalled, he said, ‘Boys don’t carry flowers,’ and shoved them into Ella’s unsuspecting arms.

Janey, watching the expression on his face, burst out laughing.

And Guy, who had in turn been watching her, said, ‘Of course. You’re Maxine Vaughan’s sister.’

‘Oh help!’ said Janey. ‘Not necessarily. Not if it means you cancelling the order.’

He looked amused. ‘Don’t panic, I don’t think I could face the prospect of going into another shop and starting all over again.’

‘But how did you know?’ She flushed. ‘We aren’t a bit alike.’

Tilting his head to one side and studying her in greater detail, he disagreed. ‘Physically, there are similarities. She’s skinnier ... blonder ... wears more make-up than you do, but the resemblance is still there. And you have the same laugh.’

This must all be part of the famous Cassidy charm, thought Janey. By cleverly reversing the usual comparisons he had actually managed to make her sound more attractive than Maxine.

What a neat trick.

‘And at least you’ve managed to find a new nanny.’ Changing the subject, she nodded at the gift-wrapped carnations. With an encouraging smile at Josh and Ella, she said, ‘Is she nice?’

‘She’s a wimp,’ replied Josh flatly.

‘But honest,’ Guy interjected, shooting him a warning look before returning his attention to Janey. ‘Unlike your sister.’

‘Look, Maxine isn’t as bad as you think,’ she bridled, springing instinctively to her defence.

‘She really wanted to work for you. And children adore her. If you ask me, you could have done a lot worse.’

‘Of course children adore her,’ drawled Guy. ‘She bribes them with money and ice cream.’

Josh brightened. ‘I liked her. The lady in the wedding dress, you mean? She was good fun.’

‘She had good references too,’ Guy remarked tersely, ‘but that still doesn’t make her ideal nanny material. Has she found another job yet?’

Janey shook her head. Maxine’s efforts in that department had been half-hearted to say the least. ‘Not yet.’

‘Hardly surprising,’ said Guy, his blue eyes narrowing with amused derision. ‘Tell her from me, the next time she writes out her own references not to use violet ink. At least, not if she’s planning to trot off to the interview with a smudge of it on the inside of her wrist.’

Chapter 5

Janey was leaning into the back of the van, stretching for the box of flowers which had slid up to the front and wedged itself behind the passenger seat, when Bruno gave her sticking-out bottom a friendly pat.

‘You’ll do that gorgeous body of yours an injury,’ he said, nudging her out of the way and taking over. ‘Come on, leave it to me.’

She flushed and smiled, and glanced quickly over her shoulder in case anyone was watching. Bruno, a notorious flirt, didn’t mean anything by the playful gesture, but she still wouldn’t like Nina to get the wrong idea.

Intercepting her glance as he carried the box into the empty restaurant, he winked. ‘It’s OK, she’s still asleep.’

‘She might be,’ Janey protested. ‘But you know what people are like for gossip around here.’

‘Exactly. And they know what I’m like,’ Bruno countered with an unrepentant grin.

‘They’d be far more suspicious if I didn’t lay a finger on you. Then they’d really know they had something to gossip about.’

He was pouring them both an espresso, as he invariably did when she arrived with the twice-weekly delivery of flowers for the restaurant.

It was ridiculous, thought Janey; since nothing had ever happened between them, there was no reason at all why she should feel guilty. But she felt it just the same, because no matter how many times she told herself that circumstances made him the most wildly unsuitable choice, her muddled emotions had taken charge and made the decision for her.

At the age of twenty-eight, she had developed a humiliating crush on Bruno Parry-Brent.

And all she could do now was hope and pray that it would burn itself out before anything did happen.

In the meantime, however, it was so nice to feel human again, after all the endless months of aching deep-frozen nothingness. And Bruno was undeniably good company. A ladies’ man in every sense of the word, he possessed that happy knack of being able to talk about anything under the sun. Even more miraculously he was a great listener as well, always genuinely interested in hearing other people’s views. He paid attention, asked questions, never appeared bored.

It was, of course the great secret of his success with the opposite sex. Janey had watched him at work in the restaurant before now, weaving his magic in the simplest and most effective way possible. Real conversation with a real man was a powerful aphrodisiac and the women succumbed to it in droves, as Janey herself had done. But it was better this way, she felt, at least there was safety in numbers.

‘New earrings,’ he observed, bringing the tiny white cups of espresso to the table where she was sitting and leaning forward to examine them more closely. ‘Very chic, Janey. Are those real pearls?’

‘They’re Maxine’s.’ Self-consciously, she fingered the slightly over-the-top earrings and prayed he wouldn’t guess that he was the reason she was wearing them. Even Maxine had raised her eyebrows when she’d caught Janey digging around in her jewellery box. ‘Earrings, lip gloss and mascara?’ she’d remarked in arch tones. ‘Darling, are you sure there isn’t something you’d like to tell me?’

But diplomacy was another of Bruno’s assets and, if he’d noticed such additional details himself, he was too nice to comment on them. Instead, stretching out in his seat and pushing his fingers through his long, sun-streaked hair, he said, ‘I was going to ask you about Maxine. So you haven’t managed to get rid of her yet?’

Janey pulled a face. ‘She won’t go, she won’t look for work and she’s so untidy: it’s like living with a huge, unmanageable wolfhound.’

‘But house-trained, presumably.’ Bruno grinned. ‘You haven’t told me yet, what does she look like?’

‘Maxine?’ As she sipped her coffee, Guy Cassidy’s words came back to her. ‘Skinnier, blonder and noisier than me.’ Then, because it sounded catty when she said it, she added shamefacedly, ‘And much prettier.’

‘Hmm. Well, we’re pretty busy here at the moment. Maybe I could offer her a couple of evenings a week behind the bar.’

‘She wouldn’t do it,’ said Janey hurriedly. ‘Her feet, they’d ache .

Bruno shrugged, dismissing the suggestion. ‘Just a thought. But you’ll have to bring her down here one evening, I’d like to meet her.’

Of course he would. And she could only too easily imagine Maxine’s reaction when she, in turn, met Bruno Parry-Brent. They were two of a very particular kind.

‘I will.’ Janey tried not to sound unhappy, evasive. She had no intention of introducing them but Maxine had a talent for seeking out ... well, talent, and Trezale wasn’t a large town. It would surely be only a matter of time before she discovered Bruno for herself.

‘Oh come on, cheer up.’ He took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘We all have our crosses to bear. Look at me, I have Nina!’

Janey tried not to laugh. He really was disgraceful.

‘And where would you be without her?’ she countered. Bruno and Nina made an odd couple, certainly, but after ten years together they still seemed happy enough in their own way. It wasn’t something Bruno had ever discussed in detail but, as far as Janey could figure out, Nina didn’t ask any questions and in return he was discreet. Indeed, although he was such a notorious flirt, she didn’t even know whether he actually had affairs.

‘Where would I be without Nina?’ he repeated, teasing her. ‘Probably in big trouble, because she’d have a contract out on me.’

Janey burst out laughing. Nina was the most placid woman she’d ever met. She doubted whether Nina could even summon the energy to read a contract, let alone organise taking one out.

‘You’d be lost without her,’ she told him in mock-severe tones. Rising to her feet, she smoothed her pink skirt over her hips. ‘I’d better be getting back to the shop. Thanks for the coffee.’

Bruno grinned, unrepentant. ‘Thanks for the pep talk. If you bring your sister down here maybe I’ll be able to return the favour.’

‘Hmm,’ said Janey, renewing her vow to keep Maxine as far away from the restaurant as humanly possible. She could imagine what kind of favour he had in mind.

Maureen-from-Wimbledon wasn’t on the four-o’clock train.

Guy, who had cut short a session in the darkroom and driven hell for leather in order to reach the station in time, couldn’t believe it. If she’d missed the train at Paddington, she could have bloody well phoned and let him know, he thought furiously. And now what was he supposed to do, hang around on the platform and wait an hour for the next train to roll in?

But he hadn’t waited and the would-be nanny hadn’t phoned. By eight-thirty, when there was still no sign of her, he dialled the London number she had given him.

‘Oh dear,’ said Berenice, thankful that at least Ella, whom she had put to bed half an hour earlier, wasn’t there to witness his language.

Josh, who was used to it, wondered if this meant his prayers had actually been answered.

‘What is it, Dad?’

‘No wonder she was in such a hurry to come and live down here,’ Guy seethed, pouring himself a hefty Scotch and downing it in one go. ‘I’ve just spoken to her mother. The lying, conniving bitch was arrested this morning and charged with credit-card-fraud! This is all I bloody need ...’

‘Does that mean she isn’t going to be our nanny?’ said Josh, just to make absolutely sure.

Guy raised his eyes to heaven. ‘I knew that expensive private education of yours would come in useful one day. Yes Josh, it means she isn’t going to be your nanny.’

Hooray, thought Josh. Aloud he said, ‘Oh. So what are we going to do?’

‘Only one thing for it.’ It was Wednesday night, Berenice was getting married on Saturday and he had to fly to Paris for a prestigious calendar shoot on Monday morning. ‘We cancel Berenice’s wedding.’

‘You’ll have to answer it,’ said Maxine, when the doorbell rang. She was wearing bright orange toe separators and the crimson nail polish on her splayed toes was still wet. ‘I look like a duck.’

‘You look like a duck,’ Guy Cassidy remarked when Janey showed him into the sitting room two minutes later. Maxine, sitting on the floor with her bare legs stretched out in front of her, carried on eating her Mars bar. ‘Just as well,’ she replied equably. ‘It means your insults roll off my back.’