Jill Mansell - Mixed doubles

Bibi said something — God knows what — aboutme. He said how about if the four of us went together ... and the next thing you know it’s all bloody well arranged.’

The look on his face said it all. Dulcie started to giggle.

‘You’re double-dating. With your mother.’

‘Don’t laugh, it isn’t funny.’

‘This girl could be awful. She could be a complete dog.’

‘Better bloody not be.’

Dulcie’s kicked-in-the-stomach feeling had gone, magically disappeared. The thought of Patrick actually getting involved with someone else had been a bit weird, but this was okay. This wasn’t involvement, this was a blind date.

‘She might be stunning.’ Dulcie felt she could afford to be generous. She still hoped the girl would be a dog, but only because the idea of Patrick being set up on a blind date by his own mother was such a scream. Besides, Dulcie thought smugly, if the girl was so stunning what was she doing letting her dad fix her up?

Dulcie had more important things on her mind anyway, because today was the day Liam was due to arrive at Brunton Manor. At three o’clock this afternoon.

And he wasn’t married. In a rare burst of practicality she had checked with Eddie Hammond.

It was as well to find these things out in advance, Dulcie felt. Imagine wrapping yourself dramatically around the long-lost man of your dreams, only to be peeled off and hear him say,

‘Let me introduce you to the wife and kids ...’

At ten to three, Dulcie sauntered out on to the terrace with a drink and a book — Pride and Prejudice, because she didn’t want Liam to think she was the kind of girl who only read airport novels.

Cutler and Gross sunglasses in place and bare, freshly pedicured feet up on the chair opposite, she began to read.

The great thing about dark glasses was you could look as if you were lost in a book when in reality you weren’t missing a trick. Like the sight of Imelda Page-Weston three tables away, surreptitiously spraying the backs of her knees with Tresor and making sure she had more cleavage on show than anyone else. Silly moo.

Eddie was evidently giving Liam the full guided tour, introducing him to members en route. By three thirty Dulcie’s feverish anticipation had begun to flag somewhat. Too excited to sleep last night, too hyped-up to eat anything today, she now found herself struggling to stay awake. What with the afternoon sun beating down on her head and two glasses of Frascati nestling comfortably in an otherwise empty stomach, it was a job keeping her eyes open. Anyway, thought Dulcie with a yawn, what was the hurry? Liam wasn’t paying a fleeting visit, he’d still be here next week, next month, whenever she woke up ...

Chapter 18

The bad news about dark glasses is the way people can’t tell when you’re asleep.

Seeing Dulcie apparently engrossed in the book on her lap — and recalling her earlier interest in Liam’s marital status — Eddie said, ‘Now there’s someone I must introduce you to.’

Leading the way across the terrace he announced jovially, ‘Here we are, then! Dulcie, meet our new tennis pro, Liam McPherson. Liam, this is Dulcie Ross. Dulcie?’ When she didn’t move, he hesitated, peering down at her more closely. ‘Dulcie, are you awake?’

Jerked into consciousness, Dulcie’s eyes snapped open. Seeing Eddie looming over her, red-faced and shouting her name, she snatched off her sunglasses and struggled to sit upright.

Her confusion was only momentary. As she put her hand up to her mouth, checking she hadn’t been dribbling in her sleep, Dulcie’s gaze fixed on the tall blond figure standing behind Eddie Hammond.

Hastily she wiped her mouth. Her sunglasses clattered to the ground. Jane Austen was already lying there, face down, next to her shoes.

Bugger, bugger, thought Dulcie, this isn’t how it was supposed to happen. She had planned on smiling enigmatically, like Ava Gardner, then slowly and sensually removing her glasses so that Liam McPherson could admire her for a few seconds before doing a double-take and gasping,

‘My God, it’s you...!’

From then on he would be too awestruck, too overcome by emotion to make much sense. When he eventually stopped kissing her, and she was free to speak again, Dulcie would simply say to Eddie, ‘We knew each other once. A long time ago.’ Then, there would be more hugs, more kissing, and hopefully a convincing explanation for his lack of correspondence after Tenby. Like his parents had suddenly emigrated to Australia, dragging Liam with them and ruthlessly ignoring his desperate pleas to stay behind .. .

Something along those lines anyway.

‘Sorry, darling, didn’t realise you’d crashed out.’ Grunting as he bent down, Eddie retrieved her glasses. ‘They aren’t broken. Jane Austen, eh? Dulcie, I’m impressed. Had you down as more of a Jackie Collins girl myself Anyway, where were we? Ah yes – Dulcie, this is Liam McPherson.’

Grinning, Liam held out his hand.

‘Hi. Good to meet you.’

‘Dulcie’s one of our most regular ... er, regulars,’ Eddie said with some pride.

‘Terrific. I hope we’ll have a game soon.’ Nodding in the direction of the tennis courts, Liam swished an imaginary racket. ‘Are you entered for the doubles tournament, Dulcie?’

Not a flicker of recognition. Not a double-take in sight. Dulcie told herself that this was actually a good thing, because who wanted to look like a fifteen-year-old with chip-shop hair and rampant acne anyway? Not being recognised was proof that she had changed for the better.

It wasn’t the most promising of starts, but at least she hadn’t dribbled in her sleep. As she took Liam’s hand – heavens, what a firm shake - Dulcie gave him her mysterious Ava Gardner smile and said, ‘Actually, we’ve met before. Many years ago.’

‘Really?’

Liam was smiling too, but she could tell he was being polite; he clearly wasn’t racking his brains to remember when or where this might have been. He was a tennis pro, after all. He had once, albeit flukily, reached the quarter-finals at Wimbledon.

During his years on the circuit he must have met thousands of devoted female fans. He had probably signed so many autographs it was a wonder he had enough strength left in his arm to hold a racket.

‘Sixteen years ago,’ prompted Dulcie. ‘In Tenby.’

Liam frowned. He’d never played a tournament in Tenby. Hang on, sixteen years ago ... ?

‘You were there on holiday with your friends. I was staying in the cottage next to yours.’

Light dawned.

‘You’re kidding me!’ Liam pointed at her in amazement. ‘You were the skinny little kid ... oh, what was your surname, something totally weird ...?’

‘Fackrell,’ said Dulcie. God, it was a wonder she hadn’t developed a massive complex about that name. One sniggering clique at school had called her Fuckall Fackrell. Everyone else had called her Mackerel.

Marrying Patrick had been no hardship at all.

‘I’m Dulcie Ross now.’

‘We used to send you into the nettles to fetch our lost tennis balls,’ Liam recalled. ‘Your arms and legs were covered in stings but you swore they didn’t hurt. And on the night before you left, the other lads bet me a fiver I wouldn’t kiss you.’

Eddie roared with laughter. Dulcie tried hard to look as if she couldn’t remember this bit.

‘And did you?’ said Eddie.

‘Damn right I did. We’re talking sixteen years ago. In those days a fiver was a lot of money.’

Rather beginning to regret this trip down memory lane, Dulcie decided a detour was in order.

She said brightly, ‘And now here we are, all these years later. How are you settling—?’

‘Hang on, didn’t you write me a truckload of letters?’ Looking delighted, Liam nodded his head.