Thinking of You (18 page)

Last week, Ginny had been envious of Evie. Now she no longer needed to be because it was—
tra-laaa!
—her turn. Jem was coming home at last for Easter week.

“I swapped my shifts at the pub,” she told Ginny. “Rupert's off to the south of France and Lucy's going back to Birmingham so I thought why stay here on my own when I can come and see you?”

So Rupert would be abroad; was that what had prompted Jem's visit? If so, hooray for Rupert. Joyfully, Ginny said, “That's
such
good news. I can't wait to see you again. And you'll be able to meet Laurel at last.”

“Not to mention Perry.” Jem sounded mischievous. “I definitely want to meet him.”

Hmm, if he was able to spare the time. It had occurred to Ginny lately that Perry might not be quite as besotted with her as he claimed to be; being busy at work was one thing, but she was beginning to suspect that something else might be up.

Still, asking him if he'd like to meet Jem might give her a chance to find out what that something might be. “Yes, but you'll have to be discreet. Remember what I told you about Laurel.”

“I remember. Although I think it's pretty ridiculous, the two of you having to skulk around keeping it a secret.”

Ginny thought it was pretty ridiculous too, but at the same time she could see that Perry had a point. Not that they'd been doing much skulking around recently—he claimed to be so rushed off his feet at the moment they hadn't managed to meet up all week.

“I know, darling, but she's his sister and he's trying to spare her feelings. She's just been a bit depressed, that's all.”

“Well, tell her I'm great at cheering people up. I'll be down on Friday evening. Mum, you know how much I love you…?”

“Shameless child.” Ginny grinned, because this was a familiar grovel. “Of course I'll pick you up from the station.”

“Yay. So you're free on Friday evening?”

“Absolutely.”

“In that case,” said Jem, “why don't we have dinner at Penhaligon's to celebrate me being back? My treat!”

“Jem, you can't afford it.”

“Can't I? OK then, your treat! How about a table for three?”

“You, me, and Dad? That's a nice idea.” Ginny made a mental note to ring Gavin; she wasn't sure if he was still seeing Cleo but he could surely bear to give her a miss for one—

“Actually, I've already rung Dad—we're meeting up on the Saturday. I was thinking more you, me, and Perry.” Sounding pleased with herself Jem said gaily, “Clever eh? This way I'll get to meet all your lovely new friends in one go!”

***

Just the sight of the peeling blue front door had a magical effect on Carla, drawing her toward it like a drug she was unable to resist. She'd been coming here for twelve days now and the magic was more powerful than ever. She rang the bell and Perry answered it. From then on they were cocooned in their own little world with trespassers prohibited and it was a feeling like no other she had ever known before. Total love. Total security. Total happiness.

Until Ginny found out.

Carla hated what she was doing but she couldn't stop doing it. Raising her hand to the bell she rang it quickly, twice. Waited breathlessly for the sound of Perry running down the stairs. Felt her heart quicken as the door began to open.

He grinned at her, ushered her speedily inside. “Hello, you.”

Here came the feeling again. Sheer bliss. How could anyone give up something so utterly perfect?

After they'd made love Carla sprang her surprise.

“Tomorrow night we'll be doing this in a four-poster bed.”

“What?”

“I've booked us into Curnow Castle. Their best suite.” At an eye-watering three hundred pounds a night, it had better be their best suite. Not that she regretted a penny of it—she'd wanted to make a splashy extravagant gesture, to celebrate how she felt about Perry. Stroking a damp tendril of red hair away from his forehead, Carla said, “You'll love it.”

“I won't, because I can't go. You'll have to cancel.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I'm seeing Ginny tomorrow night.”

“What?” Carla sat upright in bed, ice forming in the pit of her stomach. “But
I
want to see you. Tell Ginny something's come up!”

Perry grinned at the choice of phrase, then regretfully shook his head.

“And I want to see you—of
course
I'd rather see you—but I can't. She wants me to meet her daughter.”

“
Jem?
”

He clicked his fingers with relief. “That's the name. Jem. I keep thinking it's Jenny.”

Carla listened with growing dismay as Perry patiently explained that Ginny had called him last night and invited him to join them at Penhaligon's. He had gently attempted to turn her down but Ginny had practically begged. Evidently Jem was keen to meet him and… well, it had been an awkward situation. In the end he hadn't had the heart to say no.

“It means a lot to her,” Perry concluded reasonably. “I couldn't let her down.”

“Because of Laurel.” Carla saw beyond the altruism in an instant. “Because you need to keep the charade going. To keep Ginny happy.”

He spread his hands. “Exactly. Not because I want to see her.”

“This is all wrong.” Vehemently Carla shook her head. “Laurel's ruling your life, keeping
us
from being together.”

“Hey, hey,” Perry protested, “we
are
together.”

“Are we? Hiding here in your flat like fugitives when we haven't even done anything wrong? I want us to be a proper couple!” Carla gazed at him in desperation. “I love you. We can't carry on like this. It's not fair on any of us. And you're making a fool of Ginny. She's my
friend
,” her voice rose, “and she doesn't
deserve
this.”

“I know. But we don't have any choice, not now at least. When the time's right I'll sort it all out.” Perry's tone was soothing, willing her to trust him. “But not yet.”

***

“Sure she's not too heavy?” said Finn.

“Not too heavy.” As Ginny had been leaving the restaurant after a busy Friday lunchtime shift, Finn had pulled into the courtyard in the van. Back from a country house auction on Bodmin Moor, he'd proudly shown off the Victorian marble statue he had acquired. Since Tom, his assistant in the shop, was currently busy with a customer, Ginny had offered to help him lift it out of the van and into the shop.

Actually, marble was heavier than it looked. But today was Friday and Jem was coming home. Ginny was on such a high she was pretty sure she could lift the statue and the van single-handed, if required.

Luckily it wasn't.

“Got her?” Finn double-checked.

“Stop fussing. I'm stronger than I look.” Shaking her hair out of her eyes, she grinned at him and wrapped her arms securely around the ankles of the female statue. Finn, at the other end, had his arms round the woman's bare chest. Together they moved backward across the gravel, negotiated the doorway, maneuvered the statue into an upright position… and breathed out.

“Well done.” Finn gazed at Ginny appraisingly. “I thought you were going to drop her. You
are
stronger than you look.”

“Just give me a telephone directory,” Ginny said modestly, “and watch me rip it in half.” She ran her hand over the cool, silky-smooth marble of the statue's shoulder, thinking idly how nice it would look in her garden. “How much are you going to be selling her for?”

“Three grand.”

Yikes, maybe not then. Perhaps the home store did a cheaper version in fiberglass.

“Good job you didn't tell me that before. I'd definitely have dropped her.”

“She's one expensive lady.” Finn gave the statue's bottom an appreciative pat. “And older than she looks.”

Ginny couldn't help wondering how it felt, having your bottom patted by Finn. Hastily she dismissed the thought, pulled herself together. “No cellulite though. She's taken good care of herself. Or else gone under the knife, had a bit of a nip and tuck. You could call her Cher.” As Ginny said it, her phone began to ring and Carla's name flashed up on the screen. “Speaking of women without cellulite… hello, you! Where have you
been
?”

“Just… busy.” Carla sounded more subdued than usual. “Hi. Listen, I'm at home and I'd really like to see you. What are you doing?”

“Just finished work.” Intrigued, Ginny said, “You sound mysterious. What's this about?”

“Can you come over now?”

“I've got some stuff to pick up in town first, but I can be there in about an hour. Jem's coming home!”

There was a momentary pause before Carla said, “Is she?”

“I'm picking her up from the station at six thirty. I'm so excited I can't wait. And guess what? We're having dinner with Perry, the three of us together!”

“Great.” Carla appeared to have other things on her mind. “Um, so you'll be here in an hour?”

Ginny checked her watch. “By four o'clock, I promise. I wish you'd tell me what this is about.”

“When I see you.”

She definitely wasn't sounding like herself. Catching Finn's eye, Ginny said, “Carla, have you done something naughty?”

Another pause.

“Yes.”

“Tell me!”

“I can't,” said Carla.

Ginny put the phone back in her pocket. “Carla's being mysterious.”

“You'd better get off then. We'll see you tonight.”

“Eight o'clock.” Ginny beamed. “I can't wait for you to meet Jem.”

“And she'll be meeting Perry as well. What if she doesn't like him?”

Was that a dig? Honestly, just because Perry had made one innocent, off-the-cuff remark about children and fatherhood. Couldn't he just be happy for her?

“She'll love him,” Ginny said firmly.

Finn shrugged. “She might not.”

“Two things. One, I know my daughter. And two”—her eyes danced because today of all days nothing was going to dampen her mood—“don't be such a pessimist.”

 

“Right, I'm here. Tell me what's going on.” The moment Carla opened the front door, Ginny threw her arms round her. It wasn't until she'd been driving back from the shops that it had occurred to her that Carla might be ill. She had asked jokily if she'd done something naughty and Carla had soberly agreed that she had. But what if she was referring to the fact that last year a letter had arrived in the post reminding her that her next cervical smear test was due, and work had been so hectic that she hadn't got around to making the appointment?

The moment this possibility had lodged itself in Ginny's brain she hadn't been able to think of anything else. And now Carla wasn't hugging her back, she was standing woodenly with—Ginny now saw—tears swimming in her eyes.

“Oh my God.” Ginny gazed at her in horror, a sensation like wet cement settling in the pit of her stomach. Barely able to speak, she clutched Carla's hands tightly and felt her throat tighten with fear. “Is it… is it cancer?”

Carla abruptly turned away, heading for the kitchen.

“It's not cancer.”

Oh.

“Well,
that's
a relief.” Following her, Ginny exhaled noisily and patted her heaving chest. Then, to be on the ultra-safe side, she said, “So it's not any kind of illness?”

“No.”

Now she was truly relieved. “Because you can't imagine what's been going through my mind.”

“Ginny, I'm not sick.” Carla turned to face her, and there was that weird edge to her voice again.

“Has someone died?”

Carla's perfectly symmetrical bob swung from side to side as she shook her head, but her lips stayed pressed together.

“Then you have to help me out here,” said Ginny, “because I just don't know what this is about. I have no idea.”

“I know you don't,” said Carla.

“What's
that
supposed to mean? Why are you saying it like that?”

“Ginny, you mean the world to me. You're my best friend and I never wanted to hurt you.” Carla gripped the edge of the granite worktop behind her as the words came out in a rush. “Believe me, I
never
wanted to have to do this. But it's Perry. He's seeing someone else.”

The kitchen was silent; it felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the air. Carla couldn't bring herself to say the rest of it just yet. One bombshell at a time. Her fingernails ached from gripping the worktop. This was hell, but it had to be done. Ginny was gazing at her, clearly lost for words and as shell-shocked as she had every right to be. God knows, she—oh, that
bloody
phone.

But when Carla looked at the bloody phone and saw who was calling, she knew she had to answer it.

“Hi, it's me. Listen, I'll be back by midnight at the latest,” said Perry. “Wait for me at the flat.”

“Actually, I'm at home. Ginny's here.”

“Really?” He sounded impressed. “I thought you'd been keeping out of her way.”

“Not anymore.” Carla paused, heard her own voice echoing weirdly in her ears. “I've just told her.”

“
What?
You're not serious! About
us
?”

“Yes.” Well, near as dammit. She was about to.

“Jesus Christ, what have you done?” shouted Perry. “I told you not to say anything!”

And where would that have got them? It was a job that needed to be done. Evenly, Carla said, “Well, I have.”

She switched off the phone. Ginny was staring at her, her eyes huge.

“Who was that?”

“I'm sorry.”

“Was it Perry? What's going on? OK, so you saw him with someone.” Ginny shook her head in bewilderment. “But maybe you got it wrong, made a mistake.”

“I'm not wrong.”

“So he admitted it? You know he's definitely seeing someone else? What a
bastard
.” Her hands trembling, Ginny reached for a glass and ran cold water into it from the tap. “When did you find out? Where did you see them? Damn, I really liked him too.” The glass clunked audibly against her teeth as she gulped down half the water in one go. “Why can't anything ever go right for me? Do you know, I really thought we had something. And it turns out he's just another filthy rotten cheat after all. Oh no, poor
you
.”

“What? Why?” It was Carla's turn to be confused.

“Having to be the one to tell me. I bet you've been dreading it.” Ginny's lopsided smile failed to conceal her disappointment. “It's always horrible being the bearer of bad news. But I'm glad you told me, really I am. Don't worry, I won't shoot the messenger!”

Carla couldn't speak. The last few precious seconds of their friendship were ticking away. There was an unexploded bomb right here in the kitchen and any moment now she was going to press the detonator.

“So did you actually see her?” Needing information, Ginny said, “I suppose she's younger than me. What does she look like?” Only a couple of seconds left now. Carla's mouth was so dry she could hardly speak. “She looks… well, she looks like me.”

“Complete opposite of me then. I might have guessed.” Surveying her reflection in the window and running her fingers disparagingly through her tousled Goldie Hawn hair, Ginny said, “Nature's way of telling you it's time you went to the hairdresser.” Then she patted her gently rounded stomach. “And possibly had a go at a few sit-ups.”

“There's nothing wrong with you.” Carla couldn't bear to see her running herself down. Fiercely, she said, “You're warm, funny,
beautiful
—”

“But not good enough for Perry, because he prefers someone who looks like
you
.”

Carla's finger had been hovering over the detonator button for what felt like hours. She didn't have to do this; she could carry on seeing Perry in secret.

No, she couldn't
. That would be deceitful.

She could stop seeing Perry.
No, she couldn't
. That would be impossible.

She could… she could…

No, she couldn't.

Carla pressed the detonator. “It's me.”

“What's you?”

“Perry prefers me. I'm the one he's been seeing. And I'm so
sorry
,” Carla blurted out. “I hate myself; I can't believe this has happened. But it has. And you're my best friend,” she pleaded. “I wouldn't hurt you for the world, but I've never felt like this about anyone before… I met Perry and it was just… well, like an earthquake or something. If I could have stopped it, I would. But I just
couldn't
…” She ground to a halt, nauseous and mortified, her fists clenched in anguish. Forcing herself to meet Ginny's gaze, she whispered helplessly, “And I'm so, so sorry.”

Ginny felt as if she was watching a film, one with a twist she hadn't been expecting, the kind that takes your breath away and leaves you wondering what on earth will happen next. Carla's face was chalk-white, taut with strain. She had said what she'd clearly planned to say. She was like a stranger or a character in
Doctor
Who
peeling off her face to reveal the robot beneath. Because one thing was for sure, this was no longer the Carla she'd known and loved and trusted for the last fifteen years.

“You wouldn't hurt me for the world?” Ginny was privately amazed she could still speak. “I'm your best
friend
?” Her voice rose. “Well, that's fascinating. If this is how you treat your best friend, I'd hate to see what you do to your enemies.”

Carla flinched. “I'm sorry.”

“Will you stop saying you're sorry? It doesn't mean anything! If you were really sorry, you'd never have started seeing Perry behind my back, would you? You would have said thanks but no thanks, like any normal friend, and walked away. It's called loyalty.” Ginny shook her head in disgust.

“I know and I
wanted
to do that. Believe me, I did. But I couldn't. I love him,” pleaded Carla. “And he loves me. Sometimes these things just happen.” As she said it, they both heard the sound of a sports car screeching to a halt outside. A door slammed and footsteps raced up the path. The doorbell rang.

“Prince Charming, I presume. Riding to the rescue. How sweet.” Ginny's heart was hammering against her rib cage. “How masterful. I suppose you've been sleeping with him.”

“Of course I've been sleeping with him.” Carla went to get the door. “It's what normal couples do.”

The knife twisted in her stomach. With a jolt of pain, Ginny realized she was right. All that so-called gentlemanly stuff about wanting to take things slowly and get to know her properly first hadn't been romantic after all. It had just been… bullshit.

And here he was, the bullshitter himself, bursting into the immaculate kitchen with a wild look in his eyes and his hair uncombed.

Suddenly he wasn't looking quite so irresistible anymore.

Which, under the circumstances, was handy.

“I'm sorry. Ginny, I'm so sorry.”

Oh, for crying out loud, not that again.

“You're a wonderful person,” Perry went on, “and I wouldn't hurt you for the world…”

And
that.

“This is getting repetitive,” said Ginny.

“But I wouldn't, I swear to God. I never expected anything like this to happen. Neither of us did. But… it has.” Perry's hands fell to his sides, signaling defeat. “It was a… a
coup de foudre
.”

“Right.” Ginny fantasized about seizing the heavy glass fruit bowl and hurling it at his head.

“It means love at first sight,” Perry added.

Patronizing bastard. He thought she was gullible
and
dim.

“Actually, it doesn't,” said Ginny. “It means struck by lightning.” Struck by lightning, struck by a heavy glass fruit bowl, she didn't mind which.

“Anyway. We love each other. You weren't supposed to find out like this but—”

“From the look of things you didn't want me to find out at all.” Leaving Carla out of it for now, Ginny concentrated all her attention on Perry. “How long has it been going on?”

“Since that night at the Carson Hotel. We couldn't help ourselves. Took one look at each other and that was it. We just knew.”

“How lovely. Very romantic. So did you shag her in the toilets or in the bushes outside?”

“I didn't.” Perry frowned, offended. “I was with you.”

“OK, the next night then. Carla isn't the type to hang about.” From the expressions on their faces she'd guessed right. For good measure, Ginny said, “Although you're a damn sight older than the ones she usually goes for.”

“I'm sorry,” Perry said
again
. “And I know this has come as a shock to you, but I hope we can still be friends.”

It was the pleading, let's-be-reasonable tone of voice he used that confirmed what Ginny had already suspected. Perry Kennedy had fooled her from the word go, manufacturing a relationship purely in order to offload his sister into her care. As if Laurel were a bin bag of old clothes and Ginny was his local branch of Oxfam.

And now, from the look of him, he was terrified she was going to give the bin bag back.

Interestingly, Ginny found she was able to separate out her emotions, like sorting knives, forks, and spoons into a cutlery drawer.

Humiliation because she'd thought he liked her and he didn't.

Anger because Jem was on her way home and today was supposed to be such a
happy
day.

Humiliation again because the three of them were booked into Penhaligon's and she had boasted so freely to Finn that Jem would love Perry to bits.

Anger because Perry had regarded her as a pushover. And yet more humiliation because Finn would be hard pushed to hide his amusement when he heard what had happened.

So that was the spoons and forks accounted for. But what of the knives? Her stomach churning, Ginny realized that they were what Carla had been using to stab her in the back. Because anger didn't begin to describe how she felt about Carla, her supposed friend. Seething boiling fury was closer to the mark. And this was what hurt more than anything, because being betrayed by your best friend was a million times worse than being betrayed by a man.

With men, sooner or later you kind of deep down expected it.

Well, Carla and Perry were welcome to each other. More than welcome. And—how sweet—Carla was getting herself a ready-made family.

“So do you want to tell Laurel or shall I?”

Perry was looking nervous. “Tell her what?”

“Oh, I think you know. You tricked me into taking your sister off your hands in the first place,” said Ginny. “Well, I don't want her anymore. You can have her back.”

He blinked rapidly. “Ginny, you
can't
—”

“The three of you can live together. Won't that be fun?”

“But she's happy with you,” Perry pleaded.

“Irrelevant. Not my problem. Believe me; I'll be happy when she's gone.”

“You wouldn't throw her out.”

“Wouldn't I? Watch me.” Ginny marched across the kitchen, pausing only to glance back in disgust at Carla. “And I never want to speak to either of you again as long as I live.”