But Janey had evidently had her reasons for standing him up, he concluded, and whilst half of him had longed to go round to the shop and shake them out of her, the other half had told him it wasn’t the greatest idea in the world. She’d had a hell of a year, after all. The best thing he could do was back off for a while and give her time to sort herself out. It was infuriating, but undoubtedly necessary.

It had also been the reason why — out of sheer desperation — he had carted Josh and Ella off for a time-wasting week in St Lucia. Janey, Guy concluded, had cost him a goddamn fortune.

She would have an absolute fit if she only knew.

But now he was back. And he had a few bridges to mend. Ready, steady .. .

Waiting silently in the doorway, Guy watched her at work. She had her back to him, and her shoes were off. Smiling to himself, he observed the holes in the elbows of her baggy, charcoal-grey sweater. The long white flowing skirt, made of light cotton, was more suited to July than February and her bare brown legs were mottled with cold. The temperature was positively arctic but so engrossed was she that it evidently hadn’t occurred to her to turn on the heating. Neither did she seem to have noticed that her long white hair, having escaped from its combs on one side of her head, was trailing over her left shoulder in a tangled, clay-streaked and lop-sided mane.

‘Oh,’ said Thea, finally sensing his presence and swivelling round to look at him. When she saw who it was she said ‘Oh,’ again, this time an octave lower.

‘It’s OK,’ Guy told her. ‘I haven’t come here to shout at you.’

‘I should bloody well hope not.’ Her eyebrows lifted. ‘And I certainly wouldn’t recommend it, young man. Because I’d shout right back.’

Guy believed her. ‘As a matter of fact I came here to apologize,’ he said. ‘I was pretty uptight at the funeral, but that’s no excuse for bad manners. I should at least have offered my condolences ...’

‘I didn’t realize you hadn’t.’ Thea’s expression softened slightly. ‘I’m afraid the entire day passed in a bit of a blur. Goodness only knows what that poor young solicitor must have thought of me ... according to Janey I was swearing like a sailor.’

That had been almost three months ago. Guy nodded. ‘So how are things now? How are you feeling?’

She shrugged, wiping her hands on her skirt. ‘Well, not full of the joys of spring ... but I’m back at work, which has helped. It’s stupid; now that I no longer need to do it to earn a living, I find I’m spending more time here than ever before.’ Hesitating for a second, she added, ‘I suppose it takes my mind off other things. I actually believe these latest sculptures are the best I’ve ever done. It’s just a shame Oliver isn’t here to see them and tell me how brilliant I am.’

‘At least the studio’s your own, now.’ Maxine had told him about that. Guy smiled. ‘My father would definitely approve. He always loathed the idea of paying rent and never getting the chance to own anything at the end of it.’

Thea gazed at him. ‘Does it bother you, the fact that he left me so much money?’

‘Absolutely not.’ Guy shook his head very firmly indeed. ‘You deserved it. If anything, it bothers me that he left my children so much money,’ he countered. ‘They’re in danger of becoming insufferable. Hardly a day goes by without one or other of them drawing up a new list of things-to-buy-when-I’m-twenty-one.’

‘And did they enjoy their holiday?’ Thea smiled. ‘You’re very brown. Janey told me you’d taken them somewhere hot but I can’t remember where.’

‘St Lucia.’ Ridiculously, the mere mention of her name lifted his spirits. ‘Janey was talking to you about ... us?’

‘I think she was missing your children,’ she replied with unconscious cruelty. ‘She’s extremely fond of them, you know.’

‘They’re very fond of her.’ Guy pretended to study the half-finished figure she was currently working on. ‘How is Janey, by the way? It’s been a while since we’ve seen her.’

Thea, itching to get back to work, smoothed her thumb fondly across the ridge of the figure’s cheekbone. Not quite yet, but soon, she would attempt a bust of Oliver.

‘Well, what can you expect?’ She spoke the words absently, her thoughts elsewhere.

‘Considering her abysmal taste in men. Oh, she’s getting over it now; the decree nisi comes through next week, thank God, but I can’t help wondering what’s going to happen next. She’s a lovely girl, even if I do say so myself, but her confidence has taken a bit of a battering. What she needs is a decent man who isn’t going to muck her about.’ Screwing up her vision, she leaned forward to check the symmetry of the figure’s eyelids. ‘Although personally I dread meeting the next one she brings home. If her track record’s anything to go by, I’ll loathe him on sight.’

Guy didn’t bother to hide his amusement. ‘Are there many men you do like?’

Thea’s gaze flickered in his direction. ‘I liked Oliver,’ she said with pride. ‘As far as I was concerned, he was about as perfect as a man could get.’

‘Well, that’s one.’

‘And I suppose you aren’t bad,’ she conceded with a brief smile. ‘A bit too good-looking for my taste, maybe. But I dare say you’ll improve with age.’

Janey howled with laughter. Tears streamed down her face and her sides ached but she was quite unable to stop. Maxine, unable to find the tissues, chucked across a piece of kitchen roll instead and waited patiently for the hysteria to subside.

‘You never laugh that much when I tell you one of my jokes,’ she complained eventually.

‘And it’s not even supposed to be funny. Poor Bruno; I’m dreading telling him.’

‘Poor Bruno?’ gasped Janey, wiping her eyes and gasping for breath. ‘Poor Bruno! I love it ... !’

‘And he loves me.’ Maxine looked glum. ‘He’s not going to be thrilled, I can tell you.’

Janey struggled to compose herself. If she breathed really slowly and kept her mind a total blank, she told herself firmly, she could do it. No more laughing; this was serious stuff. Bruno was about to be dumped and she wanted to hear every last glorious detail. If she didn’t get a grip, Maxine might decide not to tell her and that would be just too cruel.

‘So what did he do wrong?’ she asked, pressing her lips together and looking suitably concerned.

‘Nothing.’ Maxine sounded gloomier than ever. ‘That’s why it’s going to be so difficult.’

‘OK. In that case, why are you dumping him?’

‘Oh Janey,’ wailed Maxine suddenly, ‘he got nice!You know what I’m like with men; I can’t handle it when they’re nice. Look at Maurice; it was running away from him that brought me back here in the first place. He was so nice I thought I was going to die of boredom.’ She paused, shaking her head in despair. ‘And that was what was so brilliant about Bruno. He had such a reputation ... he was so wicked! I really thought I’d found someone I’d never get tired of.’

‘You mean you thought you’d met your match?’

‘Well, I had, then.’ Maxine looked resigned. ‘But somehow it all changed. I began to feel as if I’d got myself a housewife. Bruno wanted to prove I could trust him. He stopped being wicked. And I don’t know ... I suppose I stopped being interested.’

Janey struggled to keep a straight face. Oh dear, falling in love for possibly the first time in his life had turned Bruno into a bore.

‘I bet he leaves Trezale,’ she mused. The shame of it would undoubtedly be too great for a man of his reputation to bear. ‘He won’t be able to handle the prospect of bumping into you.’

Grinning, because it was what Alan had done, she added, ‘Maybe he’ll skulk off down the coast to St Ives.’

‘Ah.’ Maxine blinked. ‘Well he wouldn’t actually need to move away. You see, I am.’

‘What?’

‘I am. Moving away. To Manchester,’ said Maxine rapidly. ‘They’ve given me a six-month contract to appear in Romsey Road: the white-stilettoed trollop is going to have a steamy affair with the vicar. And if they decide to get her pregnant I’ll be sticking a cushion up my jumper and signing up for another year on top of that. Oh Janey, it’s happening at last,’ she sighed, her eyes glistening with tears of joy. ‘I’m going to be Mandy Blenkinsop.’

‘You’re changing your name to Blenkinsop?’

‘That’s her name, stupid! The trollop’s.’ Maxine grinned. ‘She didn’t have one before, you see, because it was only a walk-on. But from next month she becomes a real character.’

Dreamily she added, ‘And I’ll be a bona fide member of the cast. I’ll probably have my own fan club.’

Bruno was forgotten. It was as if he had never even existed. Stunned, Janey said, ‘What about Guy?’

Maxine shifted uneasily in her chair. ‘Well, he knew it was on the cards. It isn’t as if it’s going to come as a huge surprise, is it? And when you think how many times he’s almost sacked me, he’ll probably be glad to see me go.’

‘But you haven’t quite plucked up the courage to tell him yet?’ Janey spoke in faintly admonishing tones. ‘Max, you must. Look at the trouble he had last time, finding a replacement for Berenice. He doesn’t want any old nanny looking after his children. If it comes to that,’ she amended, ‘Josh and Ella won’t want any old nanny either. They’re going to miss you terribly.’

‘Shame they didn’t show a bit more appreciation, then, while they still had me.’ Resorting to flippancy in order to cover up the guilt, Maxine said, ‘Those little brats are forever telling me how much more fun they had when you were looking after them. Seriously, Janey, if you ever felt like selling the shop and switching careers ... You could even have a crack at Guy while you’re there, see if you don’t have better luck with him than ‘I did!’

It was like Pavlov’s dogs. Maxine was only joking, but even the most frivolous of insinuations was enough to bring the colour surging into Janey’s cheeks. Silently cursing her inability to keep it at bay and desperate to change the subject, she resolutely ignored the jibe and instead launched a bold counter-attack.

‘Come on, Max. I’m your sister, remember? Do you seriously expect me to believe that’s all there is to it?’

Maxine blinked. ‘To what?’

‘This whole Romsey Road business.’ It hadn’t been an innocent blink. Janey, pleased with herself for having guessed, moved in for the kill. ‘Because ‘I can’t help thinking what an extraordinary coincidence it is, you getting the part and at the same time losing interest in Bruno.

Call it a shot in the dark,’ she suggested lightly, ‘but would there happen to be any seriously wicked men in Manchester?’

This time even Maxine had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Well,’ she murmured vaguely,

‘now you come to mention it, maybe one or two ...’

Chapter 57

The fact that the weather had finally taken a dramatic turn for the better did nothing at all to lift Bruno’s spirits. Outside Mole Cottage - which Maxine had insisted on calling Toad-in-the-Hole Cottage following the discovery of a mouldy cooked sausage under the bed - the sun shone with enthusiasm for the first time in months. Tiny clouds drifted across a clear blue sky, the sea -

turquoise fading to aqua -- glittered in the distance and daffodils had sprung up en masse, their yellow heads nodding in the warm breeze. Even the hopelessly overgrown front garden was sprouting an assortment of yellow blooms; but since he had no interest in flowers Bruno didn’t have a clue what they were.

He didn’t care, either. He didn’t care much about anything at all right now, except the fact that forty-eight hours earlier Maxine had left him.

Standing at the living-room window, he gazed blindly out to sea as tears pricked the back of his eyes. She hadn’t even let him down gently, dammit. Instead, with typically selfish haste, she had just come out with it - no, there was nobody else and he hadn’t done anything wrong, it simply wasn’t working. After that she’d slung the few clothes and bits of make-up she had left at the cottage into a pink raffia bag, and said gaily, ‘Sorry, darling, but these things happen. Wish me luck. Bye!’

The lying bitch, he thought, pressing his lips together and turning the postcard over and over in his hands. She hadn’t even bothered to cover her tracks properly. That was what you got for loving and trusting someone, Bruno concluded bitterly. They took flicking advantage of you and didn’t even stop to think of the pain they were inflicting .. .

He had found the postcard stuffed into the breast pocket of his denim shirt. Maxine, who had borrowed it the previous weekend, had spilt chocolate milkshake down the sleeve and chucked it into his laundry basket. That way, of course, he could wash and iron it himself before she borrowed it again.