Jill Mansell - Sheer Mischief

‘Why do you suppose I sent her up here to work for you?’ Janey laughed. ‘I’ve been through that mushroom field. I was desperate.’

She was starting to relax. Even more casually, Guy said, ‘But at least Maxine and ‘I aren’t married.’ Janey looked uncomfortable. ‘No.’

‘Look.’ Taking a deep breath, he decided to risk it. ‘I’m on your side, Janey. Maybe this is none of my business but I can’t help feeling there’s more to it than hot water and toilet seats.

Alan was away for two years. You’ve both changed. There are bound to be problems. Just because he’s come back, you aren’t automatically obliged to be happy.’ He paused for a second, his eyes serious. ‘These things don’t always work out. There’s no shame in that. Nobody would blame you.’

Janey bit her lip. What he said made so much sense, but she still couldn’t bring herself to admit quite how torn she felt. Alan loved and needed her, after all. How on earth would it affect him if she were suddenly to announce that she had changed her mind?

Feeling horribly disloyal just thinking about it, she willed herself to remain calm. She wasn’t going to pour her heart out to Guy; he’d suffered quite enough of that after the Bruno fiasco. He might be on her side, she thought, but she still had some pride. She didn’t want him to think she was a completely hopeless case.

‘We’re fine,’ Janey assured him, as convincingly as she knew how. She smiled. ‘Really. I was just having a bit of a moan, that’s all.’

Shit, thought Guy, not believing her for a second. He’d blown it. And he had thought he’d been doing so well.

‘Shit!’ Maxine yelled practically simultaneously, in London.

Bruno gave the maître d’ an apologetic grin and hoped he wouldn’t change his mind about giving them the last table in the restaurant.

‘She’s from Iceland,’ he confided. ‘Doesn’t speak a word of English. ‘I think she’s saying

"hello".’

But Maxine, staring at the reservation diary lying open on the desk before them, was too appalled to enter into the spirit of the game.

‘It’s the fifteenth,’ she groaned. ‘Oh hell, I can’t believe it’s really the fifteenth!’

Of November, thought Bruno, following her gaze. Big deal. Unless she’d suddenly realized her period was late, in which case it would definitely be a big deal .. .

‘Quick, I need a phone!’ Maxine launched herself across the mahogany desk. ‘Can I use this one?’

But the maître d’, who had quick reflexes, had already clamped his hand firmly over the phone. The last time someone had tried that trick, they’d called their mother in South America.

‘This one is reserved for table bookings, madam. We have a pay phone for customers at the far end of the bar.’

‘What is it?’ Bruno demanded, as Maxine rifled his pockets for change. To his alarm, there were tears glistening in her eyes.

‘That bastard,’ she seethed. ‘I asked him what she was doing tonight and he told me she didn’t have any plans. ‘I suppose he’s gone out ...’

‘Who?’

‘Bloody Alan bloody Sinclair.’ The words dripped with contempt. ‘Who else?’

Bruno raised his eyebrows. ‘Why, what’s he done now?’

‘Oh, nothing much,’ snapped Maxine. ‘At least, not by his standards. It’s only Janey’s birthday, after all.’

Chapter 51

Right, that’s it, thought Guy.

Janey, watching him replace the receiver, was unnerved by his grim expression.

‘Bad news?’

He nodded. ‘Very bad news.’

‘Oh no.’ Her heart lurched. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s November the fifteenth,’ Guy replied slowly. ‘Your birthday. Don’t tell me you’d forgotten too.’

‘The nerve of that man,’ cried Maxine, flushed with annoyance. ‘He wouldn’t even let me speak to her!’

Bruno frowned. ‘Alan? Why not?’

She looked at him as if he was being deliberately obtuse. ‘Not Alan, stupid. Guy. She’s babysitting up at the house. I thought he’d be out, but he’s back.’

By this time thoroughly confused and too hungry to care much anyway, Bruno had begun studying the menu. But Maxine was still muttering to herself, twirling her hair round her fingers in a frenzy of indignation. He sighed. ‘OK, so why wouldn’t Guy let you speak to her?’

‘I don’t know, do I?’ She glared at him across the table. ‘He told me to leave everything to him; he’d deal with it.

What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?’

‘I’d have thought it was pretty obvious.’ Bruno grinned. ‘He’s going to make sure Janey’s birthday goes with a bang.’

‘I know it’s my birthday.’ Janey felt unaccountably nervous. ‘Who was that on the phone?

Is that the very bad news, or is there something else?’

‘It was Maxine, ringing from a call box.’ Guy bent to refill their glasses. ‘She’s mortified at having forgotten, but she sends her love and says she’ll bring you back a mega-stupendous present. Her words,’ he said dryly. ‘I wouldn’t get your hopes up if I were you. She bought Josh a mega-stupendous present the other week; it turned out to be a bouncing rubber brain. When you throw it against the wall,’ he added with a look of resignation, ‘it screams Ouch.’

‘I could probably do with one of those.’ Janey smiled. ‘So that’s really the bad news, Maxine forgetting my birthday?’

But the humour had vanished from his eyes once more. Really, she thought, he was incredibly hard to keep up with.

‘No,’ said Guy. ‘The bad news is Alan forgetting your birthday.’

Janey, opening her mouth to protest, had no chance.

‘Don’t even say it,’ Guy warned. ‘For God’s sake, Janey! Why do you always have to defend him? The way he’s treated you is sickening enough, but not even being able to remember your birthday — this year of all years — is downright despicable!’

‘Lots of husbands forget their wives’ birthdays.’ She couldn’t help it; now he was being unfair. ‘Thousands do, all the time. It’s practically a condition of marriage.’ Janey realized she was shaking.

Guy’s dark eyes, glittering with derision, bored into her. ‘Don’t be such a coward,’ he drawled unpleasantly. ‘Stop covering up for him. Why can’t you just admit the fact that he’s a selfish bastard and he’s making you miserable? Why don’t you give yourself a rest, Janey, say what you really think and stop being so fucking nice?’

This was too much. Something snapped inside her. Guy, launching into a totally unprovoked attack, was somehow managing to make her feel she was the one at fault.

‘How dare you!’ The words came tumbling out of her mouth but it was as if someone else was saying them for her. ‘How dare you try and heap the blame on me? If you want to know what I really think, it’s that you’re just as much of a bastard as my husband!’ She was trembling violently but the voice doing the talking didn’t falter. ‘OK, if you want the dirt I’ll give it to you.

It isn’t working out because he’s a selfish, idle sponger who expects me to do everything for him because that’s how it used to be, and he doesn’t see why it should be any different now. He’s using me ... taking advantage of me. I know he’s doing it. I hate him doing it, but I don’t have any choice!’

Janey paused, gulping for breath, panting as if she’d just run a marathon. But he had goaded her into this exorcism and now it was all spilling out. Her chest hurt, her throat ached and her fingernails were biting into her palms like fish hooks. But she had almost finished and she was going to force him to understand the kind of hell she’d been through if it killed her.

‘I don’t have any choice.’ She repeated the words in a low voice. ‘Because Alan needs me.