Nadia Knows Best (11 page)

“How could you do that?” Tilly hissed when they were outside.

Tamsin pulled a mocking face. “God, what's the big deal? It was only a bit of fun.”

“I know her. She's going out with James tonight.”

“What,
her
? Ha, that'll give Leonie a good laugh. Oh, come on, cheer up.” Tamsin slid her arm through Tilly's and pulled a funny face. “I didn't know you knew her, did I? Look, I promise you never have to take me into that shop again. Next time I'll wait outside like a dog, I promise. And I'm sorry, sorry, sorry… there, can't grovel harder than that, can I?”

By five o'clock, Tilly was officially confused. After the hideous scene in the newsagents, it had become obvious that Tamsin was Seriously Bad News. Except… an hour later, she had flirted so effectively with the boys from school that purely by association Tilly had rocketed into the top ten of girls worth talking to.

This was something that had never happened before. Not that she wanted anything to do with that bunch of sad losers, but entering the league was a seductive prospect nonetheless.

“That was pretty cool.” Tamsin sounded pleased with herself as they headed back to the pizza restaurant. In possession of at least a dozen mobile phone numbers, she could afford to be smug. At this rate she'd be kept busy texting for the next fortnight.

“They're dorks.” Tilly flicked back her hair as if it was worth flicking back. But secretly she was envious.

“Maybe. Who cares? They fancied me rotten.”

“Yeah.” This was true. Tilly knew that when she went back to school on Monday, everyone would be asking her about Tamsin.

“Don't tell my dad about the shop thing, OK?”

“OK.”

“Cool.” Tamsin gave her a nudge. “Hey, if your mum marries my dad, we'll be, like, sisters.”

This was it, the sense of belonging she'd been missing for so long. Forcing a smile, Tilly said, “Yeah.”

They met Leonie and Brian outside the pizza place on Park Street.

When they dropped Tilly back home at seven o'clock, Leonie gave her a patchouli-scented hug and said, “I
knew
you two would get on.”

“Well…”

“Brian's asked me to marry him. Isn't that fantastic?”

Dutifully, but with a sinking heart, Tilly echoed, “Fantastic.”

“Darling, this is my big chance. This time it has to work. You'll help me, won't you? You won't let me down?”

Feeling slightly sick and wondering what she meant, Tilly said, “No, Mum, I won't let you down.”

***

Annie Healey wiped the steam from her bathroom mirror and regarded her soft-focus reflection with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

Not fear, that wasn't the right word. Apprehension, maybe. Or just general anxiety.

Actually, no, it was fear.

Scrubbing the mirror clean with her bath towel, Annie pulled a Macaulay Culkin face at herself. She was thirty-eight years old, for heaven's sake. How pathetic to be this scared when all she was doing was going out to dinner with a man.

But she was just so horribly out of practice. Fourteen years out of practice, to be exact. Oh God, don't even think about it. Just brush your teeth, then put some makeup on. Your skin hasn't come out in an embarrassing rash. Everything's going to be fine.

When he arrived at seven o'clock to pick her up, James was looking very smart and not a little uneasy himself. As he helped her into the car, Annie said, “Look, this probably isn't the normal way of going about things, but I feel it's only fair to warn you that I'm very nervous.”

Straightening, James adjusted his spectacles. “You are? Oh, I'm sorry. Nervous being with me?”

“Don't take it personally.” Annie shook her head. “I'd be the same with anyone. You see, I'm not used to doing this. It's been a long time.”

James climbed into the driver's seat and stuck the key in the ignition. “Me too.”

“A very long time.”

“Same here.”

“OK,” said Annie, “I don't want to sound childishly competitive here, but I bet my time's longer than your time.”

James smiled. “We don't have to be at the Elsons' until eight o'clock. Shall we stop somewhere and have a drink first?”

“Definitely,” said Annie with relief.

They sat out in the garden of a pretty pub in Easter Compton, which was en route to Pilning where Cedric and Mary-Jane lived.

“By the way,” James cleared his throat, “you're looking very nice this evening. Sorry, my daughter told me I had to say that when I came to pick you up, and I forgot. But it's true,” he hastily amended. “You really do look nice. I… er, like your hair as well.”

Annie self-consciously touched her hair, which the hairdresser had back-combed and pinned into an ambitious chignon. Like a game of Jenga, she was terrified to move her head in case the whole lot came tumbling down.

Her dress wasn't helping matters either. When she'd tried it on in the shop, it had looked amazing, as glittery and gorgeous as a mermaid's tail. How could she possibly have known that the moment you sat down those triangular sequins would stick into your flesh like knives? Now, every time she shifted position on the chair, it was like being attacked by a shoal of tiny piranha fish.

Oh yes, off to a brilliant start.

“Go on then,” James prompted. “Tell me how long it's been since you did this.”

Here we go.

“Fourteen years,” said Annie, and waited for him to spit his drink all over the table.

But all James did was nod. “Oh well, I can beat that. Seventeen years for me.”

Blimey. It was Annie who was shocked. “Look at us, we're a right old couple of dinosaurs! What happened to you, then?”

“Well, it's complicated.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Embarrassed, she flapped her hands. “That was so rude. You don't have to tell me anything.”

James shook his head. “No, not at all, it's fine. You should know anyway, if you're coming to my boss's dinner party. My wife walked out on me and my daughters twenty-three years ago. She's led a fairly chaotic life ever since. When she broke up with Tilly's father she needed a roof over her head so we let her move back in for a while. Then, when she took off again, she left Tilly with us.”

“You're kidding,” gasped Annie, though he clearly wasn't. “People leave sweaters behind, they leave gloves behind… they don't leave
children
.”

“Leonie's in a league of her own. She felt she couldn't cope with Tilly. In fact”—James hesitated—“she gave us the choice. Either we took Tilly, or Tilly went into care. Well, there was no decision to make. We already loved her. Tilly doesn't know this, by the way.” He paused again and took a drink. “As far as she's concerned, we offered to bring her up and Leonie agreed.”

Annie was deeply shocked. “Does she still see her mother at all?”

“Intermittently. When it suits Leonie. She saw Tilly today, in fact. Brought her latest boyfriend and his daughter up from Brighton to introduce them to Tilly. The girls are pretty much the same age, apparently.”

Right. Annie nodded as all became clear. She was also touched by James's attitude; only a truly decent man would do what he had done, taking on and bringing up a child for whom he was in no way responsible. The simple way he had said, “We already loved her,” had brought a lump to her throat.

“Tilly's a credit to you.” Annie swallowed the lump. “She's a lovely girl.”

“It's been no hardship. Tilly's a credit to herself.” James spoke with genuine warmth. “We were the lucky ones. She'd have been a lovely girl whoever brought her up. Anyway, enough about us. Can I be nosy and ask about you?”

“Ask away. But I'm not very exciting.” Annie's eyes sparkled. Now that they were sitting down together actually having a conversation, her nervousness had lessened dramatically. She was feeling far more comfortable.

Apart from the sequins, obviously.

“I'm assuming you were married.” James cleared his throat apologetically, as if he'd just suggested she was a mass murderer. “Sorry, that's none of my business.”

“I've never been married.” Annie had to smile. “And I haven't split up with a long-term partner. My mother had a stroke,” she said matter-of-factly. “Fourteen years ago. She needed someone to move in with her, and I did. Six years ago she had a second stroke. Last year she died. All the time Mum was ill, I was too busy looking after her to meet anyone who might… you know, become important. Propping up bars and telling men you had to be home by nine o'clock to change your mother's incontinence pads wasn't the greatest chat-up line in the world. I don't regret it, because Mum was brilliant, but this is why I'm what you might call a late starter. Thirty-eight.” Annie pulled a face. “Not to mention embarrassingly out of practice.”

“Did you really not mind?” said James. “Giving up your life to look after your mother?”

“I didn't give up my life. It just kind of went… on hold. No.” Annie shook her head and smiled. “How could I mind? She was my mum.”

It was ten to eight and their glasses were empty. Gathering them up, James rose to his feet.

“Another drink?”

“Don't we have to be there by eight?”

“I don't want to go. I'd much rather stay here, talking to you.”

It was what Annie wanted too, but she had a highly developed guilt gene.

“They'll be waiting for us. We have to go.”

“Why do you keep doing that?” With a crooked smile, James imitated her wiggle.

Damn, he'd noticed.

“Death by sequins.” Annie was rueful. “They're digging into my legs. It's all right for you,” she complained, “all you have to wear is a suit and—ouch! What was
that
for?”

James had just hit her.
Bam
, right on top of her head.

Clapping her hands to her smarting scalp, Annie's eyes widened in disbelief. For heaven's sake, and now he was reaching across the table with his own hand raised, getting ready to hit her again.

Economically, James said, “Wasp.”

“Oh God, did you get it? I'm allergic to wasps!” Annie let out a squeak of fear as she heard the ominous sound of buzzing emanating from the depths of her hairdo—this was far more alarming than being hit over the head. Practically launching herself at James's chest she shouted, “Get it out, get it out!”

The wasp was trapped in a mass of lacquered back-combing. Squeezing her eyes shut, she felt James yank out the grips and combs, separating her hair like David Bellamy venturing intrepidly through the jungle.

“I can see it.”

“Kill it! Kill it!” shrieked Annie, dimly aware that everyone else in the pub garden was by this time agog. The next moment a great wodge of hair flopped into her eyes as James made a grab for the furiously buzzing wasp. Snatching it up, he flung it away into the bushes.

“There, gone.”

“Thank God for that.” Annie shuddered with relief. “Last time my arm swelled up like the Elephant Man's. Imagine, if I'd got stung on my head I'd end up like some alien out of a sci-fi film. You saved my life.”

“But not your hair.” James sounded regretful. “I'm sorry.”

Gingerly, she put her hands up to her head. “Don't tell me. I look like I've just been in fight.”

“You look like you just lost a fight. I'm really sorry about hitting you,” James added. “I was trying to stop it getting in.”

“You were absolutely right to hit me.” Annie smiled, to show she didn't mind being whacked on the head when there was good reason for doing so. “But I don't have a hairbrush.” Recalling the incident in the newsagents when she had toppled off her stool, she added ruefully, “Honestly, what is it with me and wasps?”

The drive back to Kingsweston took less than ten minutes, but it was still a painful journey for Annie.

“It's no good, I'll have to change out of this dress. These sequins are killing me.”

James looked concerned. “I hope you didn't buy it specially for tonight.”

Oooh no, I've got a dozen glittery numbers in my wardrobe, I wear them every day under my overall at work. Men, honestly. They didn't have a clue.

“Not at all,” Annie lied as they pulled up outside her cottage. “Come on in. I'll be as quick as I can.”

“No hurry.” James shook his head. “Dinner is going to be hideously boring.”

Annie gave him a look. “Make yourself at home and ring your boss, tell him we're running late.”

Upstairs, in the bathroom mirror, she discovered just how much of a disaster her hair was. It was to James's credit that he hadn't burst out laughing at the sight of her. She began brushing away at the sticky tendrils, so solid with megahold styling spray that the brushstrokes made her eyes prickle with pain.

Finally all the hair spray was out, and her hair was back to its normal shoulder-length no-style, not quite curly and not quite straight. Since creating any form of chignon was out of the question, Annie left it as it was and unzipped her dress. Oh, the bliss of freedom from spiky sequins. Never ever again would she be gullible enough to fall for a bit of sparkle.

The only other smart enough outfit she owned was a simple black shift, high-necked and sleeveless. Glad she didn't have a choice to dither over, Annie quickly put it on and added a rope of real-looking pearls.

“You look lovely,” said James when she reappeared downstairs.

“Thanks.” Annie briefly considered telling him that this was the dress she'd bought to wear to her mother's funeral.

Maybe not.

“Remind me again, why do we have to go to this dinner party?”

“Because your boss will sack you if you don't.” Annie pulled open the front door. “Come on, it might be brilliant. Things are never as bad as you think they're going to be.”

This was true, of course. Sometimes they turned out worse.

Cedric and Mary-Jane lived in a sprawling brand-new house cunningly designed to resemble an old farmhouse. As Mary-Jane answered the door, it occurred to James that with her it was the other way round. In her late forties, she did her level best to pass for a twenty-six-year-old. With her jacked-in waist and jacked-up face, she looked like Barbie's grandmother. She had such teeny-tiny stiletto-shod feet, James always felt the slightest nudge would send her toppling over onto her back.

Then again, this was possibly what had attracted Cedric to her in the first place.

“At last, at last!” Mary-Jane trilled, ushering them inside. “Everybody, they're here!”

“Sorry we're late. Spot of car trouble.” James sensed that Mary-Jane wasn't the type to appreciate the wasp story.

“James, good to see you.” Cedric came to greet them. “And this is…?”

“Annie Healey.” As he spoke, James became aware that Mary-Jane was sizing up Annie's appearance and finding it lacking.

“
Sweet
little necklace,” Mary-Jane murmured.

“Welcome, Annie.” Cedric puffed enthusiastically on his King Edward cigar. “Now come along through and meet everyone; it's a pleasure to finally meet one of James's lady friends. Have you been together long?”

James tensed, but Annie said cheerfully, “Oh, for a while. This is a beautiful house you have here.”

“Thank you, my dear. And may I say that James has excellent taste too. Now, what can I get you to drink?”

As they sat down to eat, it became apparent that Cedric was charmed by Annie and Mary-Jane wasn't taking it well. She clearly took it as a personal insult that her husband should be smitten with a woman whose hair was unstyled and whose dress was not only a size twelve but chain store to boot. Over their first course, Mary-Jane turned the conversation to jewelry, showed off her latest four-carat solitaire, then asked Annie where she'd bought her pearls.

“Claire's Accessories. Four pounds,” Annie said happily. “They look quite real, don't they?”

Mary-Jane smirked at the other female guests, her mouth pursing like a cat's bottom. “Heavens, don't they bring you out in a rash?”

Worse was to come. As they were being served the main course, Ray Hickson snapped his fingers and said, “Got it!”

Ray was a fellow accountant of the sharp-suited, sleazeball kind, whom James had never liked.

“I knew I knew you from somewhere.” Ray addressed Annie with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. “It's been bothering me since you got here, I just couldn't figure it out.”

Mary-Jane put down her fork and said, “Ooh, do tell!”

“Hang on a sec.” Ray made a show of patting his pockets. “Damn, looks like I'm out of cigarettes. Still, never mind.” Producing his wallet, he slid out a tenner and waved it at Annie. “Give us twenty Benson and Hedges and a copy of the
FT
.”

James suppressed the urge to reach across the table and punch him on the nose. Losing his temper was something he seldom did, but he would happily lose it now. The trouble was, Ray would only protest his innocence and say, “What's the problem? It was only a joke.”

“Sorry, I'm afraid we're closed,” said Annie. Turning to Cedric, who was looking perplexed, she calmly explained, “I work in a newsagents, not far from your offices.”

“How extraordinary!” Mary-Jane started to laugh. “Is that how you two met? James, I had no idea you were involved with a shop assistant!”

James reddened with outrage on Annie's behalf. Intercepting his glance, she briefly shook her head.

Gallantly Cedric said, “My sister worked in a shop once, before she was married.”

Mary-Jane snorted with laughter. “Darling, that was Asprey's.”

If he stormed out now with Annie in tow, Cedric would be offended. Utterly blind to the wiles of his wife, he would blame James for spoiling the dinner party.

Discreetly, James excused himself and left the room.

He returned two minutes later, clutching his hand.

“Cedric, I'm sorry, we're going to have to leave. There was a wasp in your bathroom and it stung me.”

“A wasp?” Cedric looked bemused. Annie put down her knife and fork.

“It's all right, I've killed it. But I'm allergic to wasp stings.” Breathing heavily and holding out his hand, palm up, James showed them the puncture mark surrounded by a small raised reddened area. “If I don't take my medication in time, I could be in trouble. Annie, you'll have to drive me home. Cedric, I'm so sorry about this…” James began to sway on his feet as he spoke. “Oh dear, getting light-headed, we really should be making a move…”

It was pretty scary, driving a make of car she'd never driven before, particularly one that had probably cost more than her own house. As soon as they'd rounded the corner and were safely out of sight of Cedric and Mary-Jane's faux-Tudor monstrosity, Annie slowed the Jag to a halt and said admiringly, “Quick thinking, Batman.”

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let Ray get away with it. He's beyond belief. I wanted to smack him in the mouth.”

Annie shook her head. “It's OK, I'm glad you didn't make a scene. And your boss was nice.”

“He liked you too. That's why Mary-Jane was getting so wound up. Are you still hungry?” said James as they both climbed out of the car and swapped seats.

“And Ray's keen on Mary-Jane.” Annie fastened her seat belt. “Which could be interesting. Hungry? D'you know, I could murder a prawn rogan josh.”

The office was currently rife with gossip about Ray and Mary-Jane. James was impressed that Annie had picked up on it so speedily. He smiled to himself; the evening was about to improve.

“I'm so glad we got out of there.”

“Phew, me too. But I still don't know how you managed it.” Intrigued, Annie reached for his hand and examined the palm in the dim glow of the interior light. “This is amazing, it looks exactly like a real wasp sting. Did you stick a needle in there to make that bump?”

When she looked up, James's mouth was twitching. “It is a real wasp sting.”

“But how could you…? I don't get this.” Annie shook her head in disbelief, then ran her fingertips once more over the raised bump. “Oh my God, it's from the wasp that was caught in my hair, isn't it? You got stung when you grabbed it—and never even told me.” Touched, she thought what an unbelievably gentlemanly thing that was to do.

“It's no big deal. I'm not really allergic to wasp stings.” James looked amused. “And it came in handy.”

“Every cloud has a silver lining,” said Annie.

“Right. Prawn rogan josh it is then.” Assertively, James restarted the car. “I know a great Indian restaurant in Redland.”

“Will they mind that I work in a newsagents and my pearls aren't real?”

James, pulling away from the curb, said, “So long as you haven't drunk fifteen pints of lager, they'll welcome you with open arms.”