Authors: Jill Mansell
Kiss (9 page)
‘Pushy,’ observed Izzy, helping herself to another slice of courgette. Then she grinned. ‘I couldn’t be like it myself.’
‘My mother,’ sighed Katerina. ‘The original pre-shrunk violet.’
‘I don’t want this to sound funny,’ Gina began, lacing her fingers together and looking decidedly ill at ease.
‘In that case,’ replied Izzy, deadpan, ‘I won’t laugh.’
Having known Sam for as long as she had, Gina was only too well aware of his reputation where women were concerned. In his apparently irresistible presence they simply forgot how to say no. And now she could see it about to start happening all over again, right here in her very own home.
But inveigling Izzy into the kitchen in order to talk to her alone had been the easy part. Finding the right words for what she knew she had to say wasn’t easy at all.
‘Look, this might not sound very fair,’ she began, then paused and took a deep breath. Her fingers, of their own accord, were reducing a paper serviette to shreds.
‘It’s certainly frustrating,’ observed Izzy good-humouredly, ‘waiting to hear what “this” is all about.’
‘Sam’s a very attractive man,’ Gina blurted out, and Izzy’s eyebrows shot up.
‘My God, I don’t believe it,’ she laughed. ‘You’re secretly crazy about him and you want me to put in a few words on your behalf. Well, say no more . . . I shall be the soul of discretion and before you know it you’ll be—’
‘No!’
Izzy was still smiling. Gina was so easily shocked. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘if it isn’t that, what
is
it?’
is
it?’
‘I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at him and the way he looks at you.’ In her distress, the words fell out in a rush. ‘And I couldn’t bear it if you and Sam were to—’
‘Were to
what?
’
what?
’
‘Have an affair,’ said Gina unhappily. ‘In my house. My husband’s left me for another woman, I’ve never been so miserable in my life and I absolutely couldn’t cope with it.’ She paused once more, then went on in a low voice. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I did warn you that what I had to say wasn’t fair.’
Izzy tried and failed to conceal her dismay. Fixing her gaze upon the little pots of chocolate mousse lined up on the kitchen table and realizing that she was no longer hungry, she said, ‘You want Kat and myself to leave.’
‘I didn’t mean that.’ Gina, more embarrassed than ever, shook her head. ‘And no, of course I don’t want you to leave. I just don’t want you and Sam to . . . start something. I don’t want to feel like a gooseberry in my own home.’
‘And if I promise to leave him alone you’ll be happy?’ This time Izzy had to hide her smile. Did Gina think she was a complete nymphomaniac?
‘I’ve forgotten how to be happy,’ said Gina, immeasurably relieved. Since Izzy’s amusement hadn’t escaped her she shrugged and managed a small smile of her own. ‘Let’s just say I’ll be bearable.’
Chapter 9
‘What a cheek,’ Katerina protested the following morning. Polishing off the last of the chocolate mousse, she scraped the dish with vigour. ‘That’s emotional blackmail.’
‘Financial blackmail,’ corrected Izzy, who had unearthed a tube of glitter and was sprinkling it liberally over her hair and shoulders. ‘She knows we can’t afford to move out.’
Katerina gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘He is rather gorgeous, though. Has this blighted your plans? Are you going to sink into a Victorian decline?’
‘Not at all. It’s rather exciting.’
‘Hmm.’ Katerina wasn’t convinced. ‘Doesn’t sound very exciting to me.’
‘You’re too young to understand,’ Izzy informed her cheerfully. ‘Men like Sam aren’t used to not getting what they want. I shall dazzle and intrigue him, and the longer he has to wait the more tantalized he shall be. It’s going to be the most enormous fun.’
‘How would you know?’ Katerina gave her spoon a final, appreciative lick. ‘You’ve never played hard to get before.’
Izzy looked serene. ‘Don’t worry, it always works. I read it in a Mills and Boon.’
Sam could easily have slept right through the day but he knew from experience that the only way to beat jet lag was to ignore it. Besides, he had a lot to do.
‘Oh, are you going out?’ said Gina fearfully when he arrived downstairs at midday wearing a crumpled white shirt and Levi’s, and with his hair still wet from the shower. With his deep Hawaiian tan and sun-bleached hair he looked even more startlingly exotic than usual and Gina wondered unhappily how on earth she could seriously expect Izzy to remain immune to his charms.
Edgy because she knew that sooner or later he would be seeing Andrew, she averted her gaze and busied herself with the coffee maker. ‘Black or white? If you’re hungry I could make you a bacon sandwich . . .’
‘I don’t want you to wait on me,’ said Sam, who knew exactly what was bothering her. Removing the packet of ground coffee from her grasp, he pushed her gently towards a chair, realizing as he did so just how much weight she had lost. ‘And if anyone needs a bacon sandwich, you do.’
‘I haven’t got much of an appetite at the moment,’ muttered Gina. Then, defensively, she added, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not anorexic.’
Sam nodded. ‘OK. It’s allowed, I suppose, under the circumstances.’
Gina, however, wasn’t going to be side-tracked. Abruptly, she said, ‘You still haven’t told me where you’re going. Have you spoken to Andrew yet?’
‘No.’ Sam, who intended phoning him that afternoon, was able to reply honestly. ‘I’m going to the club. And I have to sort out some transport - I’ll rent something for now - then I thought I’d take a look at some properties. Who knows,’ he added teasingly, ‘I may end up living next door. Isn’t that the most terrifying thought ever?’
‘It’s not a terrifying thought,’ said Gina, realizing that he was attempting to cheer her up. Giving him a quick, awkward kiss on the cheek, she said, ‘And you don’t have to rush out and buy the first thing you see. It’s lovely having you here.’
Her utter inability to lie was one of her most endearing traits. Ruffling her smooth, blonde hair, Sam said, ‘Thank you, sweetheart.’ Then he grinned and added, ‘But a word of advice. If you were thinking of going into politics . . . don’t.’
Old friendships died hard and Sam had no intention of criticizing Andrew’s actions. These things happened, longstanding marriages bit the dust every day and Sam wasn’t about to apportion blame. In the long run it could well turn out to be the best thing that could have happened to both Gina and Andrew.
As long as Andrew, he reflected drily as he drove towards the Barbican in his extremely clean, newly rented car, hadn’t made the biggest, most Godawful mistake of his life.
The tapas bar was crowded with after-work commuters having a drink before bracing themselves for the journey home. Although there were a couple of free tables outside - it was a mild, sunny afternoon that had seen the seasonal re-emergence of the Ray-Bans - Andrew evidently preferred the gloom of the bar’s interior. As he paid for a bottle of Rioja and a bowl of tapas, Sam observed that he, too, had lost weight; his charcoal-grey suit was too big for him and the collar of his shirt was loose. It was six months since he’d last seen him and he looked five years older.
‘So, are you happy?’
Andrew filled their glasses and grimaced. ‘I’ve done it, haven’t I? Too late to change my mind now.’
Sam said nothing, waiting for him to continue. Listening to other people was what he was good at.
‘You’ll meet her,’ Andrew continued, glancing at his watch. ‘She’s joining us at six-thirty. God . . . I don’t know . . . I thought I was in love with her, but it isn’t easy. If opposites really do attract, she and Gina should get on like a house on fire. Do you know, she hasn’t cooked a single meal since we’ve been in that flat?’
‘Does she work?’ asked Sam mildly, trying not to smile.
‘Handed in her notice the day I left Gina. She doesn’t do any housework . . . she doesn’t do
anything
.’ Andrew spilled his wine in his agitation. ‘Hell, we’d have a nice view if we could only see out of the windows. So we go out instead; I spend a fortune I can’t afford in Italian restaurants because she’s developed a craving for spaghetti
alle vongole
, and we spend every evening telling each other how lucky we are to have found each other. Then we go back to the flat and screw ourselves stupid. After that,’ he concluded lamely, ‘Marcy falls asleep and I iron a shirt for the following day.’
anything
.’ Andrew spilled his wine in his agitation. ‘Hell, we’d have a nice view if we could only see out of the windows. So we go out instead; I spend a fortune I can’t afford in Italian restaurants because she’s developed a craving for spaghetti
alle vongole
, and we spend every evening telling each other how lucky we are to have found each other. Then we go back to the flat and screw ourselves stupid. After that,’ he concluded lamely, ‘Marcy falls asleep and I iron a shirt for the following day.’
‘Is
she
happy, do you think?’ said Sam, by this time seriously struggling to keep a straight face.
she
happy, do you think?’ said Sam, by this time seriously struggling to keep a straight face.
‘Is the Pope Catholic?’ Andrew riposted. ‘Of course she’s happy - she doesn’t do a single thing she doesn’t want to do, she has everything she’s ever wanted . . .’
‘So, what are you going to do?’
Andrew spread his hands in despair. ‘Haven’t I done enough? She’s having my child - because she couldn’t even be bothered to remember to take the bloody Pill - and I’ve left my wife. There’s nothing I
can
do now, except live with it.’ He shook his head, then drained his glass, pushing the bowl of tapas away untouched. ‘Lust isn’t love, Sam. Take a tip from an expert and don’t ever let it fool you into thinking it is.’
can
do now, except live with it.’ He shook his head, then drained his glass, pushing the bowl of tapas away untouched. ‘Lust isn’t love, Sam. Take a tip from an expert and don’t ever let it fool you into thinking it is.’
Marcy arrived late, swaying into the darkened bar at ten to seven. Sam’s first thought was that Andrew hadn’t been kidding when he had told him Gina and Marcy were complete opposites. Not yet enormously pregnant, she was nevertheless decidedly plump; her legs, in pale grey tights, reminded him of those stone-carved cherubs that cavorted around fountains and her pink lambswool dress strained across an impressive bust. Although she had an undeniably pretty face - pink cheeks, big grey eyes and a small, rosebud mouth - her shoulder-length auburn hair looked distinctly uncombed and the only make-up she appeared to be wearing was the remains of yesterday’s mascara smudged beneath her eyes.
She wasn’t what he’d been expecting at all, and for once in his life Sam found himself caught completely off-balance by the enormity of the gulf between expectation and reality. Marcy’s laid-back, extremely elocuted voice, her languorous gestures and the almost monotonous slowness with which she proceeded to plough through four bowls of fresh tapas, all combined to give the impression that her batteries were on the verge of giving out. Not that she said anything wrong; she seemed perfectly friendly and even smiled whenever necessary. It was just that Sam couldn’t for the life of him imagine her being capable of summoning the energy to actually laugh.
‘So, you’re staying with Gina for the time being,’ she observed, when she’d soaked up the last of the salad dressing with a chunk of crusty bread. ‘How does she seem to you? Poor Gina, we’re so concerned about her. Is she coping well?’
Sam envisaged Gina’s reaction, should she ever find out that she had Marcy’s sympathy. Spontaneous combustion, he decided, at the very least.
‘As a matter of fact,’ he replied easily, ‘she’s coping extremely well.’
‘It must be awful for her,’ Marcy continued, pushing her hair away from her face and taking a sip of Perrier. ‘I hope you can understand our situation. We didn’t mean this to happen, it just . . . did. The last thing I ever wanted was to hurt someone else, but when two people fall in love they can’t help themselves, Sam.’ She paused, then smiled across at Andrew. ‘They really can’t.’
‘Oh Kat, you
must
come to the club,’ pleaded Izzy. ‘Sam’s invited us. It’ll be wonderful.’
must
come to the club,’ pleaded Izzy. ‘Sam’s invited us. It’ll be wonderful.’
‘Simon and I have a lot of work to do,’ Katerina replied calmly. Unwinding a long, navy-blue cotton scarf from around her neck, she dumped a pile of books on the kitchen table and motioned Simon to sit down.
Simon, enthralled by the invitation and as overwhelmed as ever by Izzy, said, ‘Well, maybe we could just . . .’
‘No, we could not . . .’ Katerina quelled him with a look. ‘A night at The Chelsea Steps isn’t going to enhance my life half as much as a physics A level will. And there’s no need to look at me like that, Simon - I’m just being practical.’
There were times, thought Simon darkly, when Kat was a damn sight too practical. Glancing across at Izzy for support, he was further cast down when all she did was shrug and say flatly, ‘She is not my daughter. I took the wrong baby home from the hospital, I know I did. Somewhere out in the big wide world my real daughter is out having
fun
.’ Then, making up for it slightly, she blew a kiss which encompassed them both. ‘Darlings, I hope you have an exhilarating evening. Meanwhile, we old fogies will totter off and try to enjoy ourselves. Now, where did I put my bus pass . . . ?’
fun
.’ Then, making up for it slightly, she blew a kiss which encompassed them both. ‘Darlings, I hope you have an exhilarating evening. Meanwhile, we old fogies will totter off and try to enjoy ourselves. Now, where did I put my bus pass . . . ?’
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