‘No,’ said Janey. ‘I told you, I’ve already made up my mind. I don’t care what you do from now on. I’m not responsible for you any more. The answer’s still no.’

‘You callous bitch.’ Abruptly, he dropped her hand and pushed it away, his jaw set and a vein thudding in his cheek. ‘OK. If that’s what you want, I’ll go. But I hope you realize what you’re doing. You could end up regretting this, Janey. In a very big way indeed.’

Maxine, stretched out across Janey’s settee with her hands behind her head, wiggled her toes in time to the jingle advertising a new chocolate bar. Nobody was allowed to watch BBC

any more. Every time the commercials came on, her attention began to wander in anticipation.

When the Babysoft commercial was shown, she stopped whatever she was doing in order to gaze, entranced, at herself on the television screen.

‘Damn, the film’s starting again! Maybe it’ll be on in the next break. Now what was ‘I saying ... ?’

‘You were telling me to relax,’ said Janey helpfully, ‘and to stop worrying about Alan.’

‘Exactly. Look, kicking him out was the best thing you ever did. This should be the happiest time of your life, darling! You came to your senses, gave him the old heave-ho and now you can start afresh. He’s out of your system,’ she added forcefully. ‘You’re free at last! I can’t understand why you should even care what happens to him. When did that bastard ever show any consideration for you, after all?’

Janey hadn’t expected her sister to understand. When she had tried to relay her fears, Maxine had howled with laughter and said, ‘You should be so lucky.’

The trouble was, wanting to put the whole miserable affair behind her was easier said than done. How could she even begin to relax when every time the phone rang she leapt a mile, petrified it might be the police ... the hospital ... Alan himself, with a stomachful of pills?

It had been a week now since he’d left. He was staying with Jan and André Covel, sleeping on the living-room floor of their tiny flat. Conditions, it appeared, were less than ideal; Jan wasn’t happy about the set-up, he had grimly informed Janey when he had returned to pick up the last of his few possessions. Still, it was better than a sleeping bag on the beach. And it probably wouldn’t be for very long .. .

‘You’re well rid of him,’ Maxine declared, stretching out for the remote control and flipping over to Channel 4 in search of more commercials. ‘And think how nice it is to have the place to yourself again. Got any more chocolate Hobnobs, Janey, or was that the last packet?’

Janey couldn’t help smiling. Maxine, draped across the sofa like Cleopatra, waving an empty biscuit wrapper and hogging the remote control, could almost be Alan. And since Bruno had started work at the Grand Rock ten days earlier – his shifts clashing cruelly with Maxine’s own precious time off – she had been turning up more and more often at the flat.

‘Oh yes, it’s great, having the place to myself,’ Janey said mildly. ‘And yes, we’re out of Hobnobs. What time does Bruno finish tonight?’

Maxine, busy emptying crumbs into the palm of her hand, looked gloomy. ‘When the last punter leaves. You wouldn’t believe how long some people can just sit there, nursing a lousy cup of coffee. I’m sure they do it out of spite.’

‘But you two are still OK?’ She couldn’t imagine how Maxine’s chaotic ways must be affecting Bruno.

‘More than OK.’ Maxine, having licked up the last of the crumbs, stretched luxuriously.

‘We’re talking blissful. It’s like being on a permanent honeymoon without the bother of being married ... except he keeps wanting us to get married. Now will you look at that – one pink sock and one orange one. Why on earth didn’t I notice that before?’

‘Are you going to marry him?’ asked Janey curiously.

‘I don’t know. We’ll see.’ Maxine shrugged and flicked back her blond hair. ‘It’s going well, but I don’t see the point of rushing into anything drastic. It doesn’t do him any harm to keep him in suspense. Besides, who knows what might happen now my career’s taking off? The last thing I need is to be tied down ...’

And Alan called me a callous bitch, thought Janey, marvelling at her sister’s laissez faire attitude.

‘So when he asks you to marry him and you refuse,’ she said, deeply intrigued ‘what does Bruno do?’

‘What can he do?’ Maxine countered with a casual shrug. ‘Apart from hope for better luck next time. Don’t get me wrong, I love him to death, but he’s hardly in a position to argue. My career comes first and he knows that.’ She hesitated, looking thoughtful. ‘Does that sound selfish?’

Janey, filled with admiration, said, ‘Yes.’

‘Oh well.’ Maxine broke into an unrepentant grin. ‘Never mind. A bit of suffering never hurt anyone, especially Bruno.’

Chapter 54

The build-up to Christmas was starting. Business in the shop was brisk and orders were already flooding in. Janey, thanking her lucky stars for ever-reliable Paula, was snowed under with requests for Christmas wreaths, table decorations and pot-et-fleur arrangements. Mistletoe was going down a bomb with teenagers whom she otherwise never saw from one year to the next.

Paula was out making the morning’s deliveries and Janey, armed with leather gloves and secateurs, was battling her way through a mountain of holly when the shop door opened and a tall, dark-haired girl came in carrying a baby. The girl, elegantly attired in an expensive caramel leather jacket, black trousers and low-heeled black and tan boots, sported a great deal of make-up and reeked of perfume. The baby, presumably a boy, was bundled up in a navy snowsuit and a blue-and-white striped bobble hat. Wisps of ash-blond hair were plastered to his forehead and he had the most adorable blue eyes Janey had ever seen.

The girl, who looked to he in her mid-twenties, seemed nervous. It was with some relief that Janey abandoned the holly and peeled off her gloves.

‘Hi.’ She waved at the little boy and smiled at his mother. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Um ... well, I hope so.’ Long, heavily mascaraed eyelashes batted with agitation. Stalling for time, she glanced around at the hanging baskets strung from the ceiling. The baby, sensing inattention and seizing the moment, made a grab for a nearby trailing ivy frond. The terracotta pot from which it grew was dragged with an ominous grating sound from its shelf. The next moment, before anyone had a chance to move, it had crashed into a bucket of freesias, scattering leaves and compost over the tiled floor. Startled, the baby promptly let out an earsplitting wail.

‘Oh no,’ cried his mother. ‘Oh hell! I’m so sorry ...’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Gently, Janey disentangled the long tendril of ivy from the baby’s chubby clenched fist. By some miracle the terracotta pot hadn’t broken. There was a mess, but not an expensive mess.

‘I’ll pay for the damage.’ Shifting the baby from one hip to the other, the girl rummaged frantically in her shoulder hag for her purse. ‘I really am sorry. Are the freesias a write-off too?’

She was shaking, Janey noticed. Bending down, swiftly retrieving the pot from its resting place amongst the poor battered freesias, she shook her head and smiled.

‘It’s OK, they were on their last legs anyway. I was going to bin them tonight. And look, the pot’s fine.’ She held it up for inspection. ‘No problems, honestly. You don’t have to pay for anything.’

The baby had by this time stopped yelling. After regarding Janey for some seconds with solemn intensity, he broke into a sudden beaming grin.

‘Oh God,’ said the girl, still distressed. ‘You’re being so nice about this. It doesn’t make it any easier for me.’

‘It was an accident,’ janey protested. ‘What were you expecting me to do, dial 999?’

‘I don’t mean the pot.’ She hesitated, flicking back her glossy dark hair. ‘It’s taken me weeks to pluck up the courage to come here ... and I’m afraid you aren’t going to like the reason why.’

Janey frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘You are Mrs Sinclair, aren’t you?’ said the girl nervously, and Janey nodded again.

‘Well my name’s Anna Fox.’ She waited, then shook her head. ‘I suppose that doesn’t ring any bells?’

The baby, apparently entranced by the gold buttons on Janey’s sweater, squealed with delight and made a futile grab for them.

‘Sorry?’ said Janey, puzzled.

‘Oh dear, this is even more difficult than I thought.’ Two spots of bright colour appeared on the girl’s cheeks. ‘Look, it was Alan I really came to see. Your ... um .. . husband. Maybe it would be easier if he explained.’ She blinked rapidly. ‘Is he around at the moment?’

In less than a split second it all became clear. Stunned, Janey clutched the counter for support. The baby, chuckling with delight, revealed two pearly teeth and vast amounts of pink gum. How curious, she thought irrelevantly, that such a grin could be so irresistible. Any adult with only two teeth in his head would never get away with it.

Anna Fox bit her lip, her dark eyes bright with a mixture of pride and regret. ‘I really am sorry,’ she sighed. ‘I did say it wasn’t going to be easy. You must think I’m a complete bitch.’

The door swung open. Paula, like the cavalry, had arrived in the nick of time.

‘Dear old Mrs McKenzie-Smith burst into tears when I arrived with her bouquet,’ she announced cheerfully. ‘It’s her golden wedding anniversary and this is the first time her husband’s ever given her flowers. Hello, gorgeous,’ she went on, wiggling stubby fingers at the wide-eyed baby. ‘Oh I say, what a lovely smile! What’s your name then?’

‘Good, you’re back,’ said Janey hurriedly. ‘Paula, can you take over here? We’re going upstairs for a while ...’

‘His name’s Justin,’ said Anna, fumbling with the zip as she struggled to get him out of his snowsuit. With a defensive glance in Janey’s direction she added, ‘He’s ten months old.’

Janey, who had switched the kettle on, was now leaning in the kitchen doorway whilst she waited for it to boil.

‘Does he say anything yet?’

Anna pulled a face. ‘Only "Da".’

‘Da!’ Justin exclaimed in delighted recognition. ‘Da da da. Da!’

‘Ma,’ prompted Anna, embarrassed, and he beamed. ‘Mmm ... Da!’

‘This is crazy,’ said Janey, giving up on the kettle and sitting down. ‘Here you are feeling sorry for me, and I’m feeling sorry for you. Look, Alan doesn’t live here. We aren’t ... together, anymore. I can’t say I’m not stunned by all this, but you haven’t upset me. In a weird kind of way, it’s the best news I’ve had in years.’

‘Really?’ Anna’s eyes promptly filled with tears as astonishment mingled with overwhelming relief. ‘Oh my goodness, I’m so glad ... oh dear, now my mascara’s going to run.’

Janey passed her a box of tissues. The baby, half in and half out of his snowsuit, was wriggling like an eel.

‘Here, let me take him,’ she offered, as Anna struggled to blow her nose and hold him on her lap at the same time. ‘You don’t have enough hands.’

‘You really and truly don’t mind?’ said Anna, sniffing loudly.

Janey smiled. ‘Of course not. I like babies.’

‘I mean about me and Alan.’ She bit her lip. ‘I still feel dreadful, springing this on you.’

‘I can’t tell you how glad I am that you did,’ Janey assured her, from the heart. ‘Listen, I kicked him out. He didn’t want to leave ...’ She hesitated, then shrugged and said simply, ‘Well, now ‘I know, I don’t have to feel guilty any more. You can’t imagine what a relief that is.’

‘We only went along as a kind of joke,’ Anna explained, clutching her cup of coffee and looking defiant. ‘It wasn’t as if I was desperate or anything, but my friend Elaine had been answering ads in the Personal columns without much luck, and I said why didn’t she try a singles bar instead. Well, she found this new one advertised in Time Out and dragged me along to keep her company. I didn’t even want to go, but she’s such a nag. That’s probably why her boyfriends never last longer than a week,’ she added with a smile. Janey, who privately felt Personal columns and singles bars had a lot to answer for, gave her an encouraging nod.

‘Well, the moment we got to this place in Kensington she spotted Alan and liked the look of him. He came over, started chatting ... and that was how it all started. Elaine was furious with me of course, but what could ‘I do? He was so handsome and charming that when he asked for my phone number at the end of the night ‘I gave it to him. He wasn’t the least bit interested in Elaine.’ She looked at Janey. ‘Now, of course, I wish he had been.’