Authors: Jill Mansell
Kiss (57 page)
‘Sweetheart,’ she began, perching on the arm of the sofa and listening to her own voice echoing in her ears. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘You’re pregnant.’
So much for Lucille’s ability to keep a secret, thought Izzy, torn between outrage and relief. Frantically twiddling her hair around her fingers, she said humbly, ‘Yes.’
Kat jerked upright. The remaining segments of Chocolate Orange fell to the floor. ‘My God, I was joking!’
‘Oh.’ Izzy twiddled more furiously than ever. ‘I wasn’t.’
‘You’re really and truly pregnant?’ cried Katerina, her brown eyes wide with horror. ‘It’s not just a false alarm?’
Izzy shook her head and tried not to listen to Dorothy, on screen, giving the poor old cowardly lion a pep-talk. Right now she understood just how he felt.
‘No, it’s real.’
‘Ugh!’ Katerina yelled. ‘That’s disgusting! Mother, how
could
you?’
could
you?’
‘It isn’t disgusting,’ countered Izzy, appalled by the ferocity of her daughter’s reaction. ‘I’m sorry, darling, I know this must have come as a bit of a shock to you, but that still doesn’t make it disgusting.’
‘You’re nearly forty.’ Katerina, whose face had drained of all colour, felt physically sick. ‘You’re
supposed
to be old enough to know better. Has it even occurred to you to stop and think how humiliating this is going to be for all of us?’
supposed
to be old enough to know better. Has it even occurred to you to stop and think how humiliating this is going to be for all of us?’
Much as she would have welcomed it, Izzy hadn’t been naïve enough to expect instant understanding and a pledge of undying support. But the sheer selfishness of Kat’s attitude was positively breathtaking.
‘I haven’t
murdered
anyone,’ she retaliated, dark eyes flashing. ‘I haven’t done anything to even hurt anyone, for heaven’s sake! All I’m doing is having a baby...’
murdered
anyone,’ she retaliated, dark eyes flashing. ‘I haven’t done anything to even hurt anyone, for heaven’s sake! All I’m doing is having a baby...’
‘Who will be known throughout his or her entire life,’ spat Katerina with derision, ‘as Tash Janssen’s unwanted “love child”.’ She shuddered once more at the hideous thought. ‘Poor little bastard, what a label. Of all the unsuitable men in the
world
—’
world
—’
Izzy stared at her, open-mouthed in astonishment. ‘Kat, listen . . .’
But Katerina, misinterpreting her expression and looking more appalled than ever, shouted, ‘Oh no, don’t tell me you’re going to marry him.
Please
don’t tell me that.’
Please
don’t tell me that.’
Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, Izzy could only shake her head. ‘Sweetheart, I’m not going to marry anyone, least of all Tash Janssen. He isn’t the father.’
‘He’s
not
?’ Now it was Katerina’s turn to look dumbstruck. ‘Then who the bloody hell is? Oh Mum, don’t tell me you had a Roman fling after all!’
not
?’ Now it was Katerina’s turn to look dumbstruck. ‘Then who the bloody hell is? Oh Mum, don’t tell me you had a Roman fling after all!’
‘No.’
Outrage had given way to curiosity. To Izzy’s profound relief, Kat’s main objection appeared to have been to the thought of Tash Janssen’s imagined involvement.
‘Go on then,’ prompted Kat, her voice calm. ‘I’m not going to play twenty questions. Just tell me who it is.’
Izzy held her breath. ‘Sam.’
‘What? It can’t be. You haven’t slept with him!’
‘Isn’t a mother allowed to have some secrets from her daughter?’ she protested, struggling to keep a straight face.
‘So, you did sleep with him? I mean, you
are
sleeping with him?’ Katerina corrected herself. Gazing accusingly at her mother she said, ‘OK, just how long has this secret affair been going on?’
are
sleeping with him?’ Katerina corrected herself. Gazing accusingly at her mother she said, ‘OK, just how long has this secret affair been going on?’
By the time Izzy had finished explaining the whole sorry tale, Dorothy was waking up back in her own bed in Kansas and wondering whether or not it had all been a dream.
‘. . . so I caught the first flight out of New York the following morning,’ she concluded with a shrug, ‘and decided that was that. I was the one, after all, who told Sam to find himself another woman so I can’t really blame him for going ahead and doing it. It wasn’t great fun, realizing that I’d effectively shot myself in the foot, but it isn’t the end of the world, either.’
‘Oh, Mum.’ Katerina hugged her. ‘You know what you are, don’t you?’
‘Hopeless.’
Eyeing her with affectionate despair, Katerina said, ‘If the cap fits . . .’
‘Oh, the cap fitted all right.’ Izzy’s mouth began to twitch. ‘It’s just that the stupid thing had a hole in it.’
Chapter 61
‘You’ll have to speak up, it’s a bad line,’ shouted Simon, in Cambridge. Half-covering the receiver with his hand, he said, ‘Stop it, Claire.’
‘Who’s Claire?’ demanded Katerina, bridling.
‘Nobody. Sorry, what did you say just now? For a moment I could have sworn you’d said Doug and Gina were getting married.’
‘They are!’ Katerina started to laugh. ‘Isn’t it amazing? Apparently Gina’s divorce was finalised last week. She realised she was madly in love with Doug, and was terrified that Lucille would snatch him away . . . so she proposed to him in the office the very next morning. Oh Simon, it’s so funny and so sweet, they’re going around like a couple of moonstruck teenagers!’
The trouble with Kat, thought Simon with a trace of exasperation, was that she never seemed to regard herself as a teenager. And what was so funny, after all, about being moonstruck? He’d been crazy about
her
for years.
her
for years.
‘So, when’s the wedding?’ he said, above the crackle of interference on the line.
‘That’s what I’m ringing about. It’s fixed for next weekend, and you’re invited. You will be able to come, won’t you?’ Katerina paused, then added fretfully, ‘Who
is
Claire?’
is
Claire?’
‘I told you, nobody. And of course I’ll come.’
‘For the whole weekend?’
He grinned. ‘Yeah, all right. I suppose I can manage that. I’ll get to your house at around six on Friday evening. Look, I have to go now . . . we’re on our way out to a party. Bye, Kat.’
Replacing the receiver with an air of triumph, he pushed up the sleeves of his crumpled rugby shirt and rejoined the poker game currently in progress at the kitchen table. His two flatmates raised quizzical eyebrows as he shuffled, then rapidly dealt the cards.
‘What party’s this then?’ said Kenny Bishop, pinching the last digestive biscuit.
‘And who the bloody hell,’ demanded Jeff Seale, ‘is Claire?’
Izzy, amazed and delighted by the news and happily taking full credit for having introduced Gina and Doug in the first place, had insisted upon being allowed to pay for the reception.
Gina almost fainted when she realised how much it was all going to cost.
‘We can’t let you do that,’ she protested, horrified. ‘Izzy, no! All we were planning to do was take over the private dining room at Cino’s restaurant in Kensington. We’d all have a wonderful meal and nobody would need to go bankrupt. Why can’t we just go there?’
‘Because if I don’t spend my money on important things like wedding receptions,’ replied Izzy firmly, ‘I’ll only fritter it away on silly inessentials like sunbeds and tax demands.’
‘It looks gorgeous,’ said Gina longingly, clutching the glossy brochure. ‘But it’s awfully extravagant.’
‘So am I.’ Izzy grinned. ‘And for heaven’s sake stop arguing. It’s too late now, anyway. I’ve booked it.’
‘Gosh.’ Gina squirmed with gratitude and pleasure. Her eyes bright, she added, ‘And I’m phoning Sam tonight to see if he can come to the wedding. Just wait until
he
hears about this.’
he
hears about this.’
For Izzy, who had wanted so desperately to be looking her best when she saw Sam again for the first time in three months, the almost inaudible pop of the button breaking free at her waist was the final insult.
Her heart was in her mouth as he made his way across the Register Office’s crowded waiting room towards her.
This is unfair, she thought miserably. Sam,
of course
, was immaculately dressed in a dark suit and white shirt. Tall, handsome and still possessing that indefinable charisma which marked him out from other men - and which other women found so hard to resist - he had never looked better. New York, and the love of a younger woman, evidently suited him. Izzy, wishing that she could melt into the wall behind her, tried to take comfort from the fact that at least he hadn’t brought her along with him, but somehow even that didn’t help.
of course
, was immaculately dressed in a dark suit and white shirt. Tall, handsome and still possessing that indefinable charisma which marked him out from other men - and which other women found so hard to resist - he had never looked better. New York, and the love of a younger woman, evidently suited him. Izzy, wishing that she could melt into the wall behind her, tried to take comfort from the fact that at least he hadn’t brought her along with him, but somehow even that didn’t help.
‘Hallo, Izzy.’ His brief, polite smile didn’t reach his eyes. ‘You’re looking . . .’ He hesitated. Izzy, who knew exactly how she was looking, winced.
‘Wet,’ she supplied flippantly, deciding that it was the only way to play it. With a nod in the direction of the window, at the torrential rain outside, she went on, ‘It was sunny when we left the house, so I didn’t even bring a coat, let alone an umbrella. Kat was furious with me . . . she spent thirty minutes putting my hair up this morning and by the time we arrived here I looked like a half-drowned rat, so it all had to come down again. And I managed to ladder a stocking as I was getting out of the car,’ she concluded defiantly, before he had a chance to point it out to her himself. ‘So all in all, I’m a complete mess.’
‘I was going to say you were looking well,’ observed Sam mildly. ‘But if you’d rather I didn’t . . .’
When people said, ‘well’, in Izzy’s experience, they almost invariably meant fat. Horribly conscious of the fact that she had, in the past fortnight, put on almost half a stone and praying that he wouldn’t spot the popped-off skirt button at her feet, she sucked in her stomach and hurriedly changed the subject.
‘Did Kat tell you she’d got top grades in her exams and been offered a place at medical school?’
Sam nodded. ‘You must be very proud of her.’
‘And Gina . . . what about Gina?’ Izzy feverishly rattled on. ‘Can you
believe
she and Doug are actually getting married?’
believe
she and Doug are actually getting married?’
‘These things do happen,’ he observed, his tone dry.
‘Oh, you don’t know about Jericho, either! He’s—’
Sam, interrupting her in mid-flow, placed a hand briefly on the damp velvet sleeve of her jacket. ‘The registrar’s calling us in now. We’d better not keep him waiting.You’ll have to tell me about Jericho later.’
‘Right.’ Flustered by his obvious lack of interest, Izzy pushed her fingers through her still-damp hair. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘And Izzy . . .’
‘Yes?’
The thickly lashed grey eyes remained absolutely expressionless. ‘There’s a pearl button on the floor by your left foot. I think it must belong to you.’
The reception, held at the Laugharne Hotel in Mayfair, was a splendid affair. Gina, looking more radiant than ever since becoming Mrs Douglas Steadman two hours earlier, threw her arms around Izzy and whispered, ‘This is the happiest day of my life. And none of it would have happened if it hadn’t been for you.’
‘It was nothing,’ quipped Izzy. Away from Sam, it was at least easier to behave normally. ‘I just happened to be riding my motor bike down the right street at the right time . . .’
‘And that’s not all,’ Vivienne chimed in. ‘Think about it . . . if she hadn’t invited me to that party at Tash Janssen’s place, I would never have met Terry.’ Rolling her emerald eyes in soulful fashion, she tightened her grip on his hand. ‘And I would’ve spent the rest of my life a miserable spinster.’
‘Like me, you mean,’ Izzy suggested with a wry smile. ‘Oh yes, you’re a fine example of a miserable spinster,’ drawled Vivienne. ‘On our way here we passed an advertising hoarding with your picture plastered all over it, promoting the new album. It said, “Experience Izzy Van Asch’s Kiss,” and someone had sprayed underneath it, “Yes please.” ’
‘I’m still a spinster.’ For a terrible moment, tears pricked her eyelids.
‘Bullshit,’ Vivienne declared fondly. ‘You could have any man you wanted.’ Then, turning to Terry and planting a noisy, fuchsia-pink kiss on his cheek, she added, ‘Except, of course, this one.’
‘Who’s Claire?’ demanded Katerina. Simon, forking up smoked salmon and deciding that it definitely had the edge on tinned, hid his smile.
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