Jill Mansell - Falling for you

‘Blimey, you must be desperate,’ said Kate.

‘Of course I’m desperate.’ Dexter broke into an unrepentant grin. ‘I’ve asked practically everyone else in the village and they’ve all turned me down.’

Kate widened her eyes. ‘No. How could they? You’d think they’d be clamouring to work for someone with such a sparkling personality.’

‘Ever done bar work before?’

‘No, and I have no plans to start now.’ Bar work, ugh; Kate suppressed a shudder of revulsion.

‘Don’t you look down your nose at me,’ Dexter retaliated. ‘You’re not tall enough, for a start.’

Indignantly Kate took a step back as he advanced towards her.

‘Miss Hoity Toity,’ Dexter murmured, softening the insult with a faint smile. ‘You think it’d be so far beneath you, don’t you? It hasn’t even occurred to you that this could be the answer to all your prayers.’

Oh for heaven’s sake, was the man on drugs? Frostily Kate said, ‘I promise you, it wouldn’t.’

‘Trust me,’ said Dexter. ‘Just give it a try. Today, twelve ‘til four. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it again. But I still think you might be pleasantly surprised.’

Kate hesitated. One half of her couldn’t believe she was even considering his offer. Then again, what if Dexter was right? And she was bored to tears, with nothing to do all day long other than drag Norris out on walks he passionately didn’t want to take.

‘What about my face?’ Blurting out the question, she forced herself to meet Dexter’s gaze. ‘Aren’t you scared I’ll frighten away the customers?’

By way of reply, he stuck his fingers in the corners of his mouth and gave an ear-splitting whistle.

Moments later the bedroom window above him was thrown open and Nuala, clearly used to being summoned like a dog, popped her head out.

‘Now you see why I asked you.’ Dexter casually indicated Nuala’s spectacular black eye and dramatically bruised forehead. ‘See? Compared with that, you’re Nicole Kidman.’

‘Flattery will get you everywhere,’ said Kate.

‘Ooh, are you going to be our new barmaid?’ Hanging precariously out of the window, surrounded by a picturesque tangle of wisteria, Nuala looked delighted.

‘She hasn’t said yes yet,’ Dexter announced. ‘I’m still working my mysterious magic on her.’ And he surveyed Kate with an expression of such infuriating self-confidence that for a moment she was tempted to slap him, hard.

Instead, a vision of the rest of her day intervened, hours and hours of boredom stretching endlessly ahead, and Kate found herself saying, ‘OK, just this once. I’ll give it a go.’

‘There you are.’ Dexter nodded with satisfaction. ‘Wasn’t so hard, was it?’

Against her better judgement, Kate found herself smiling. Shaking her head in disbelief, she murmured, ‘Mysterious magic indeed.’

‘Didn’t think I had any, did you? You see, that’s what makes it so mysterious.’ As he wound up the last of the garden hose, Dexter winked at her. ‘Works every time.’

Chapter 22

Sunday lunchtimes were one of the busiest sessions of the week at the Angel. A child-friendly pub selling excellent food, it attracted customers from miles around. Following a crash course in pouring pints and fathoming out the till, Kate was so rushed off her feet she barely had time to be selfconscious about her face. Occasionally, glancing up, she caught customers she didn’t know gazing at her with a mixture of pity and horror, but the regulars had grown used to her, had seen her walking Norris around Ashcombe often enough by now for the novelty of her scars to have worn off.

Much to her amazement, Kate was enjoying herself. The pointy lace-edged sleeves of her white shirt were wrecked from dangling in the drip trays, but she’d wear something more sensible next time. On the plus side, everyone was so cheerful – apart from Dexter of course – and friendly. But even working behind the narrow bar with someone as professionally grumpy as Dexter Nevin somehow managed to be fun. Every time he berated a hapless customer, Kate promptly berated him in return. She flatly refused to take any nonsense. In no time at all they were like a long-established double act, and the more they bickered the more the customers enjoyed it.

‘You’ve got the knack,’ said Nuala, lost in admiration. Perched on a leather upholstered bar stool with one arm in a sling and the other clutching a half of lager, she was discreetly advising Kate whenever advice was required. ‘Stop, not Pepsi Cola.’ She lowered her voice as Kate reached for a bottle. ‘When someone asks for whisky and pep, they mean peppermint. The cordial bottle next to the lime.’

‘That’s disgusting. Whisky and peppermint?’ Kate made a face. ‘That shouldn’t be allowed.’

‘Shift your fat bottom, let me squeeze past,’ bellowed Dexter, carrying four brimming pints of Blackthorn.

Using the steel tongs, Kate picked a cluster of ice cubes out of the ice bucket and deftly dropped them down the front of Dexter’s denim shirt. His whole body stiffened, his eyes widened, but like the pro he was, he didn’t spill a drop of cider.

‘I do not have a fat bottom,’ Kate said clearly, ‘and I don’t appreciate being spoken to like that. So just stop it, OK?’

After a brief stunned silence, a cheer went up around the bar. Unable to resist it, Kate curtsied to the applauding regulars.

‘Oh God,’ Dexter gave a snort of disgust, ‘don’t encourage her. She’ll be unbearable.’

‘If you want to keep your staff,’ said Kate, ‘try treating them with a bit of respect.’

‘If you want to keep your job,’ Dexter rejoined, ‘you’ll get this ice out of my shirt.’

‘I think you’re forgetting who needs who here.’ Blithely, Kate busied herself with the next order.

‘Come here.’ Standing up on her barstool and leaning across the bar, Nuala lovingly unfastened the bottom button on Dexter’s shirt with her good hand and shook out the lumps of ice. ‘See? There are still some things I can do.’

Having assumed that no one else in Ashcombe would be aware of Maddy’s affair with Kerr McKinnon, Kate beganto think she’d got it wrong. Maddy herself had only popped into the pub briefly at one o’clock to return a video she’d borrowed from Nuala. Feeling like a spy in possession of classified information, Kate had stayed in the background stacking the dishwasher while Maddy and Nuala chatted at the bar. Maddy, looking sunkissed and golden in a pale yellow halter-neck top and black Capri pants, had glanced at Kate then turned away again without saying anything. Before long, jangling silver bracelets and wafting perfume as she waved goodbye, she was off again, her departure provoking a round of good-natured joking amongst the locals. A couple of them pressed Nuala for details but she just shrugged, professing her total innocence. The locals then turned their attention to Jake, who had sauntered in from the pub garden to fetch a lemonade and a packet of crisps for Sophie.

‘Come on, Jake, tell us what that sister of yours is up to,’ complained Alfie Archer from Archer’s farm. ‘Pops in for two minutes, then we don’t see her for dust. Can’t tell us there isn’t something suspicious going on. Who’s the latest lucky chap?’

‘Sorry, Alfie, my lips are sealed. Not allowed to talk about it.’ Gravely Jake shook his head.

‘Marcella’s orders. Let’s just say she’s not thrilled about Maddy’s choice in men.’

Hmm, thought Kate. Interesting.

When Dexter called time at four o’clock, Kate realised that despite the sopping wet lacy sleeves and aching feet, she had in fact thoroughly enjoyed herself. She almost laughed out loud when Dexter pressed a twenty-pound note into her hand – she bought lipsticks that cost more than that. Were there really people in this country who survived on wages of five pounds an hour?