As Weekends Go (Choc Lit) (5 page)

Rebecca and Abi felt so full up that evening that not even the home-made chocolate chunks served with their coffee could tempt them. The menu had been mouth-watering. Rebecca had never tasted beef so tender and, after sampling the orange soufflé, declared the chef should be knighted.

The dining room, simply named The Manor, was elegantly furnished in gold and green, with marble pillars gracing the entrance and crystal chandeliers that made the ones in the lobby look microscopic. One side of the room, entirely glass fronted, gave view to a paved courtyard strewn with fairy lights and lined with privet trees in rustic terracotta pots for those wishing to dine alfresco.

Rebecca and Abi had missed out on this option but, with the bonus of a table to themselves, were happy to eat inside where they’d been greeted by a statuesque brunette, dressed from head to toe in black velvet, who’d seated them, before entrusting them to the resident and highly professional maître d’.

‘Well, that was superb,’ said Abi, adjusting the button on her blue silk trousers. ‘I’ll be three stone heavier by the time we go home.’

‘You and me both,’ said Rebecca, taking a sip of her wine.’ She did a quick Alex Heath check, as she’d been doing periodically throughout dinner. Last orders were at ten and it was nearly that now.

‘Looking for someone?’ asked Abi.

‘No, no. Just people watching.’

‘As in famous footballers, you mean?’ Abi waggled her eyebrows.

‘All right smartypants.’ Rebecca laughed. ‘It’s just that I’d die if he walked in. One or two people in here saw what happened today.’

‘So what? Let them stare. Anyway, at least you managed to stay upright. Imagine if you’d rolled past him on the stairs, legs akimbo.’ Rebecca started laughing again. ‘Be thankful you were wearing your combats. If it had happened tonight you’d have turned as pink as your sundress.’

‘Oh, believe me, I did that anyway.’ Still grinning, Rebecca opened her handbag and took out her phone. She was surprised it still worked after its somersaulting extravaganza.

Still no word from Greg as yet, she noted.

Jack Byrnes waddled over. ‘Evening, ladies. How was your meal? Or more importantly,’ he said, bending forward, eyes on Rebecca, ‘your poorly shoulder?’

‘Fine, thanks,’ Rebecca fibbed, anxious not to dwell on it. ‘The food was outstanding.’

‘Marvellous!’

‘Yes. Compliments to the chef,’ said Abi. ‘Actually, Jack, I’m glad we’ve seen you tonight. I was talking to Danny in the bar earlier about a new nightclub near York. Images, I think he said it was called. Do you know it at all?’

Jack’s eyes narrowed to slits. ‘Yes, it’s all the rage, so I’ve heard. One of our ex-employees is the head doorman there. Jermaine Bascombe. Nice chap. Built like a cargo ship.’

That’s rich, thought Rebecca, staring at Jack’s treble chin.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Thought we might give it a go tomorrow night,’ said Abi. ‘Danny said there’s a restaurant there. Not that it’ll be a patch on this one, of course.’

Jack’s jowls wobbled with pride. ‘Well, I could ask the concierge to try and reserve you a table if you like. What time were you thinking of going?’

‘’Bout 8.30ish. That’ll give us time to eat before we hit the dance floor. I do appreciate they might be fully booked though. We have sprung it on you a bit.’ Abi fluttered her eyelashes at him.

‘Hit the dance floor, eh.’ To their horror, Jack did a little shimmy. ‘No problem, Miss Huxley. Leave it with me,’ he said, lumbering off.

‘Right, young lady,’ said Abi, seemingly immune to Rebecca’s
when exactly did I agree to this
? expression. ‘Let’s go sample Danny’s cocktails.’ She whipped out her lip gloss, slathering on at least three layers.

Rebecca resisted the urge to speak out. Maybe Abi had a point. Would it really hurt her to dodge her comfort zone for one night?

Oh, lordy.
Clubbing
it was then …

She followed Abi across the restaurant, hanging back as they approached the bar, giving it the once-over before they entered, figuring that if by chance Alex Heath did happen to be in there, the soft peach lighting would mask her shame.

Phew!
All clear.

Danny’s face brightened when he saw them. ‘Evening, ladies.’ He gestured at two empty stools at the bar. ‘Two Sweet Rebeccas, is it?’

As Rebecca sat down she recognised the man sitting alongside her as being one of those who’d sneered at her from the bar doorway after her staircase incident. She thought he had a dead squirrel on his head at first, but when he swung round and the light caught it, she remembered his awful comb-over.

‘Oh, look!’ he hollered, elbowing his gormless-looking mate. ‘It’s Calamity Jane’s twin!’

Before Rebecca could react, Danny placed two crimson concoctions on the bar.

Abi whacked straight into hers, giving him the nod of approval.

‘Matches your face,’ said comb-over guy as Rebecca tasted hers.

‘Bet it was hot out there on that golf course today, Barry,’ said Danny, clearly trying to distract him. ‘Ninety degrees someone was saying.’

‘Aye, it were roasting.’ Comb-over’s piggy eyes never left Rebecca. ‘So, tell me,’ he bawled at her, his breath well past its sell-by date, ‘what’s his room number?’

‘
Sorry?
’

‘Oh, come off it. You knew exactly what you were doing. Your type would do anything to bag a footballer.’

‘My
type
?’

‘Er … do you mind!’ said Abi, leaning forward. ‘We’re trying to have a quiet drink.’

‘It’s okay, let’s move,’ said Rebecca, sliding off her stool. ‘I didn’t come in here to be insulted.’ Cheeks sizzling, she grabbed her cocktail off the bar and headed over to a free table in the far corner, conscious that Danny and everyone else within earshot was watching.

‘Cheeky git,’ said Abi, crashing down in the seat opposite to her. ‘Bet you want to slap his ugly face, don’t you?’

Rebecca smiled apologetically at the elderly couple sitting at the next table, but Abi was on a roll.

‘You should put in a complaint about him, Bex,’ she said, necking what was left of her cocktail.

‘Can we talk about something else, please? Tell me what treatments we’re having done tomorrow, that’ll cheer us both up.’

‘Well,’ said Abi, all hands. ‘Your massage is at ten and mine’s at eleven, which will give me a chance to sit by the pool first. Then, after lunch it’s our facials. I’ve also booked you in for an eyebrow shape.’

‘Why, are they bushy?’

‘No, silly. It’s just—’ Abi stopped mid-sentence. ‘Hey, I don’t want to panic you, honey, and whatever you do, don’t turn round, but I think your footie star’s just bowled in. I can see Danny pointing us out to him,’ she said, grabbing Rebecca’s knee. ‘
Shit!
He’s coming over …’

Rebecca’s heart rate doubled as she sensed someone bearing down upon their table.

‘Hello, there,’ said a man with a mousey brown flattop, dressed in biker leathers and carrying a crash helmet under his arm. ‘I’m the Duty Manager. Excuse the outfit. I’ve just finished my shift. The concierge asked me to come and find you. He’s managed to book you a table at Images tomorrow night. Nine o’clock, if that’s agreeable?’

‘
Um
 … absolutely!’ said Abi, mouth agape.

‘Great. I’ll let him know.’ He started backing away from them. ‘Enjoy the rest of your evening, ladies.’

The minute he’d gone, Rebecca slumped forward in her chair, silently rocking with laughter.

‘Oi, you. He looked quite attractive from a distance,’ said Abi, digging her in the ribs.

Rebecca could hardly breathe for laughing. ‘When did you last have an eye test? I can’t believe you seriously thought he was Alex.’

‘Oh, it’s Alex now, is it?’ Abi pounced like a tigress. ‘Hark at you, Mrs Stafford. You ought to be thanking me for getting it so spectacularly wrong. I dread to think what you’d have been like, if it
had
been him.’

‘Cool as you like, of course.’

‘Oh, really?’ Abi crossed her arms. ‘Come on then, now that you’ve got some alcohol inside you. Just how gorgeous is he? I mean, listening to what Danny said about him in the bar this afternoon, he sounds a pretty popular boy! Let’s pretend you’re single for a minute.’

‘Oh, not one of your scenarios.’

‘Don’t change the subject. If you were free, and he came on to you, would you go for it?’ Rebecca took a huge gulp of her cocktail. ‘
Well?
’

‘Pointless answering, as he wouldn’t.’

‘Based on what logic?’ said Abi. ‘You’re hardly one of the ugly sisters.’

‘Oh, I don’t know … too many reasons to list. Anyway, he’s younger than me.’

‘
So?
Nick’s younger than me.’

‘Only by six months.’

The elderly couple’s ears pricked up.

‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ said Abi, snatching up the cocktail list. ‘I think we’d better order some more drinks. Loosen you up a bit, madam.’

‘Actually, I might turn in,’ said Rebecca, eager to avoid an inquisition. ‘I’m quite tired, and I need to call Greg. I think he’s forgotten me.’

‘Fair enough. I suppose we ought to be fresh for tomorrow.’ Abi checked her watch.

As they made to leave, Danny sailed round the bar. ‘Sorry you had to put up with that crap earlier, ladies,’ he said, inclining his head towards comb-over. ‘Thinks he can say anything, that Barry. Don’t let it spoil your weekend. It’s not worth it.’ He bade them goodnight with a dimpled smile, after they’d assured him they’d cope.

Rebecca had never been so pleased to get back to her room. She removed her make-up, and was sitting on the bed setting her alarm clock with the intention of sampling breakfast the following morning, when her mobile rang.

‘Hi, Bex.’ It was Greg, sounding as flat as a cowpat. ‘Better late than never. Some plank left the overhead projector in the car park earlier on and it sort of spiralled from bad to worse.’ He lapsed into rant mode before eventually enquiring how she was.

Given how low he sounded, she thought of something upbeat to mention; the lip-smacking first meal in the restaurant she and Abi had devoured.

‘Lucky you,’ he said. ‘Mine was inedible.’

Desperate not to let his incessant yawning and negative mood darken the whole phone call, she gave him a potted rundown of the hotel.

‘So no problems, then?’

‘No, can’t fault it,’ she said, relieved his tone had improved.

‘Good stuff. Where are you now, in your room?’

‘Yes.’
Don’t mention the upgrade, Rebecca – it’ll only needle him.
‘Just got back.’

‘Tabby not taking you out raving then?’

‘No, that’s tomorrow night, I think,’ Rebecca groaned, still apprehensive about the whole clubbing idea. ‘And don’t call her Tabby, Greg. It’s nasty.’

‘Well, I don’t want her leading you astray. You know what she’s like when she’s off the leash.’

‘She won’t. Anyway, good luck for tomorrow,’ said Rebecca, steering them back to calmer ground. ‘I’ll be thinking of you.’

‘Thanks. On that note, I’ve still got some tweaking to do. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Let you know how it went. Oh, and thanks for the card. Very thoughtful.’

After Greg had rung off Rebecca sat for a moment, struggling to recall when she’d last had a conversation with him that hadn’t left her battle-weary with tension or so close to tears that she’d sing herself back to normal, stuck in the belief that it was all some daft phase he was going through.

She slapped her hand down on the bed and leapt up. ‘Get a grip, Rebecca! No moping around. You’re in York and you’ve had a lovely first evening with Abi.’

Well, mostly lovely…

She caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror. How could that silly-haired oaf in the bar have thought she’d deliberately set up Alex Heath?

She took off her sundress and stared at her white cotton bra and briefs.

As if.

Accident or not though, she couldn’t shift the image of him walking back up the staircase towards her. The warmth of his smile when he’d given her back her phone and shaken her hand. The tiny knot of regret in her tummy when he’d said he had to meet his friend in the car park.

Oh, stop it, Rebecca! It’s called being star-struck!

She slipped off her underwear, hauled her
Forever Friends
T-shirt nightie over her head and dived into the bathroom.

When she finally clambered into the gargantuan bed, she felt exhausted and, despite the air conditioning, had to kick off the top cover to get comfortable.

As she hit the light switch above the headboard, the bedside phone buzzed.

‘Awfully sorry to trouble you, Mrs Stafford?’ It was Abi, doing her
frightfully
posh impression. ‘Slight change of plan regarding your massage tomorrow. The usual masseuse can’t make it, so a Mr Heath has stepped in whom I understand specifically likes to concentrate on the breast area.’

Rebecca stifled a screech. ‘Go to sleep, Huxley.
Now!
I’ll give you a knock for breakfast at eight.’

‘Nice thought though, eh? Knowing our luck we’ll get some beast with hands like shovels,’ said Abi, cackling down the line. ‘Nighty night.’

‘Nighty night,’ said Rebecca, hanging up on her.

She snuggled down, nuzzling the soft pillow, mulling over the day’s astonishing events.

Of all the people, eh?

After a hearty cooked breakfast the following morning, Rebecca and Abi signed in at the spa, soon realising why it was named The Oasis. Adjoined to the manor via a walkway, its fully air-conditioned, magnolia-scented foyer, complete with marble flooring and cream leather sofas, exhaled serenity. As did the maroon-track-suited receptionists manning it; one of whom produced two fluffy white robes for Rebecca and Abi, together with their locker keys, before escorting them to the pristine changing rooms.

Rebecca felt quite self-conscious stripping down to her smalls, unlike Abi, who, without hesitation, whipped off her clothes to reveal the skimpiest of red bikinis in preparation for some serious tanning.

Far from being a beast with hands like shovels, the masseuse was all smiles, big hair and boobs, and incredibly friendly.

Leanne, as she introduced herself, led Rebecca into a subtly-lit treatment room where, amid the sound of Peruvian pan pipes softly emanating from the portable CD player, she carried out a quick health check. Rebecca mentioned her sore shoulder but downplayed it for fear of being asked too many questions. She was hopeless at lying.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll look after it,’ said the young masseuse, setting her mind at rest.

Abi removed her sarong and flip-flops and admired the outdoor pool, shimmering turquoise in the morning sunlight.

Most of the sunbeds were occupied by heavily-bronzed women in thick make-up, all of whom were viewing her with a modicum of suspicion. The ‘golf widows’ she presumed. Unaffected by their twittering, she spotted two free beds and wiggled her way over to them – prime spot for vetting everyone as they came through the archway. She pictured herself and Nick posing beneath it, him in top hat and tails, her in ivory silk, and was happily slathering herself in lotion, when a woman sipping fresh pineapple juice ambled past.

‘Ooh, could I have what that lady’s drinking, please?’ she said, pointing it out to a passing waiter.

She continued vetting the archway, confident that if Rebecca’s man came through it, she’d spot him.

Mind you, after last night’s debacle …

She put on her sunglasses, cringing at how she could have mistaken biker boy duty manager for a hunky footballer. She’d long-suspected she was a bit short-sighted, but not
that
short-sighted.

The waiter reappeared with her pineapple juice. ‘Room number, please?’

‘
Sorry?
’ Abi had forgotten they had a tab.

‘For the bill, madam,’ he said, eyeing her bellybutton ring.

‘Oh, sorry. It’s 218,’ she said, feeling like a complete tool.

‘Thank you, madam.’ He flounced back across the terrace.

Abi stretched out her long legs and refocused on the archway, almost spilling her juice, when she saw the vision of gorgeousness propped against it.

Roughly six feet tall, with dark brown hair and a fabulous tan, he was wearing black trousers and a black and tan striped golf shirt, and was, Abi guessed, in his late twenties. The set of golf clubs by his side suggested he was waiting for someone.

She kept her cool as he lifted his wraparounds and winked at her. Cocky so-and-so. How did he know she was staring at him through her sunglasses?

Some kids wandered over from the terrace and started chatting to him.

His?
Abi wondered.

She couldn’t help grinning as the man looked over again and smiled at her. Thanks to twice-weekly kickboxing classes she was proud of her figure, so let him gawp. She certainly wasn’t complaining.

A slightly taller man joined him, blondish, equally tanned and fit. The kids swarmed around him. He dropped to his haunches to talk to them and shake their hands. One of them waved a pen at him, held out a football for him to sign.

Hold on a minute.
Abi sat bolt upright. He was bloody well autographing it.

Mouth hanging open she watched him exchange banter with the kids before heading off with her admirer towards the golf course.

She cursed as her phone rang. Miffed at the timing, she snatched it up to hear: ‘
Buenos dias, senorita.
’

Nick, calling from Spain.

‘You could at least try
and sound Spanish,’ she said, giggling down the phone at him. ‘How’s it going, Manuel? Sober, are we?’

‘Of course, my beloved. Ask Deano.’

‘Hello, beautiful,’ Deano yelled down the line just then. ‘How’s York treating you?’

‘Great, thanks.’ Abi liked Dean Collins. He was one of Nick’s more salubrious friends. ‘What about you lot? Anyone been arrested yet?’

‘No, babe, not yet,’ said Deano, laughing. ‘But don’t worry, if your fiancé gets carted off in handcuffs I’ll bail him out.’ Abi heard Nick trying to reclaim the phone.

‘Oi, cheeky, what do you mean, my fiancé?’ she said. ‘Is there something I should know?’

‘Oh, just ignore him.’ Nick was back on the line. ‘He’s got sunstroke.’

Abi roared. ‘Look, this must be costing you a fortune. Just have a good time, and don’t do anything daft. I’m fine. So is Bex, although you’ll never guess what she did yesterday, Nick?’

‘Shagged
a porter?’

‘Don’t be crude.’

‘Well, I don’t know, do I?’

‘Honestly, you’re terrible,’ said Abi, thinking there was more chance of Nick going teetotal. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. It’s too long-winded.’

‘No, go on. Tell me.’

‘Oh, all right then,’ said Abi, feeling a touch disloyal. ‘She nearly fell down the stairs, dropped her phone, lost her shoe and everything.’

‘What, in the hotel?’

‘Yes. Hurt her shoulder too. She was so embarrassed about it, poor thing.’

‘How can someone that delicate be so clumsy?’

Abi was tempted to tell Nick the juicy footballer bit, but decided against it, before winding up their conversation.

Ninety-nine per cent certain the two men she’d seen were Alex Heath and that Kenny, Danny the barman had mentioned, she took out her iPod, her tummy tingling with excitement.

With only a small white towel to protect her modesty, Rebecca lay face down, breathing in the sweet scent of almond oil, barely able to keep her eyes open as Leanne’s thumbs worked their heavenly magic on her lower spine.

‘So, how did you hurt yourself?’ the bubbly masseuse asked, fluttering her fingers up over the curve of the tender shoulder blade.

The question Rebecca had been dreading.

‘Grabbing the banister to stop myself tumbling down the stairs,’ she said, lifting her head to answer.

‘What,
here
?’ Leanne sounded shocked.

‘’Fraid so,’ said Rebecca, feeling the onset of yet another blush.

‘Hang on …’ Leanne stopped rubbing ‘… you’re not the one whose phone bounced across the reception floor yesterday, are you?’

Rebecca nodded.

‘Oh, look, I wasn’t prying
or anything. With Alex Heath being there everyone was talking about it.’ Rebecca remembered Danny’s pun in the bar. ‘We were right
jealous, actually.’

Before Rebecca could respond, one of Leanne’s colleagues tapped on the door, looking for spare hand towels.

Glad of the interruption, Rebecca thought about Greg gearing up for his presentation. No doubt he’d enthral them all as usual. She hoped he’d remembered to call his mother, in Jersey. Pearl would be so disappointed if he didn’t ring her on her birthday. Rebecca had arranged for some flowers to be delivered to her hotel and would be ringing her mother-in-law herself, later.

She realised that Leanne was back and had said something that warranted a response. ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

‘I asked if you’d mind turning over for me,’ said Leanne. ‘And please say if you’d rather I didn’t chat to you so much.’

‘No, it’s fine. I’m enjoying it,’ said Rebecca, changing position as instructed. ‘Blimey, my friend Abi’s in next, and she can talk for England.’

Leanne’s chest heaved with mirth. ‘I do love your accent,’ she said, mixing some more oils together. ‘You’re from London, aren’t you?’

‘Yes. Purley.’

‘Is that anywhere near White Hart Lane?’

‘Not really.’ Rebecca assumed Leanne must be a Tottenham Hotspur fan. ‘It’s closer to Selhurst Park.’

‘Crystal Palace! I know it,’ said Leanne, looking dead chuffed with herself as she coated Rebecca’s left leg. ‘My whole family are footie mad. Statton Rangers, the lot of ’em. Been to most grounds in the country at one time or another.’

‘Oh, right.’ Rebecca stifled a cough. ‘Well, you must be delighted that Alex Heath is staying here then?’

‘Just a bit,’ said Leanne, scrunching up her cranberry-coloured lips. ‘You were so lucky getting to meet him like that.’

‘Well, I can assure you it wasn’t intentional.’

Leanne paused, mid-slather. ‘So, did you know who he was when you saw him then?’

‘
Er
 … yes, I did. Although my husband supports Palace, we’re big fans of Alex Heath, what with the England connection.’

‘Yeah, me, too. I’m sure Statton would have won the league title this year if he hadn’t been injured for the last four games. Too much shaggin’ probably.’ She cupped a hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry. Slip of the tongue.’

‘No, don’t be. You obviously know him.’

‘Well, no, not really. He never has any treatments, just uses the gym upstairs. His mate Kenny’s the flash one.’

‘Oh, so he doesn’t try and chat you all up then? Everyone’s so glamorous.’

Leanne batted her heavily mascara’d eyelashes. ‘I wish. No, he keeps himself to himself. Danny, the barman, knows him best. I feel bad now, judging him like that. Being a footballer, you assume things, don’t you? The way some of them act, I mean.’

Rebecca didn’t comment.

‘Anyway, enough of my gossip. I’d be sacked if my boss could hear me. You lie there and relax for five minutes.’ Leanne placed Rebecca’s robe within easy reach. ‘It’s been a pleasure talking to you.’

‘You, too,’ said Rebecca. ‘And thanks so much for the massage. My shoulder feels miles better. You’ve loosened away all the tension in my neck as well. I’ll sleep well tonight, that’s for sure. I’m having a facial later. Will that be with you?’ She prayed it was, so that she could extract more info.

‘No. My colleague. She’ll probably leave you in peace though. She’s new.’

Damn!

Leanne passed Rebecca a cup of water. ‘Be careful not to burn when you go outside,’ she said, dimming the lights further. ‘Cheat, and get a spray-on like me.’

‘I’ll bear it in mind.’

The minute Leanne had gone, Rebecca downed her water, grabbed her robe, and bounded like a spring lamb into the shower room.

Abi peeped at her watch.
Come on, Bex. Where are you?

Right on cue, Rebecca moseyed through the archway, wearing a cream over-shirt and denim shorts. ‘I feel nicely relaxed!’

Not for much longer, thought Abi, patting the space beside her. ‘Quick! Sit down,’ she said. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

Rebecca did so immediately.

‘I’ve just seen your man,’ said Abi, clapping her hands together. ‘And
boy
is he hot.’

‘Whereabouts?’ said Rebecca, eyes darting east to west.

‘Over there. With his mate about half an hour ago,’ said Abi, pointing to the archway. ‘Saucy sod winked at me.’

‘Who, Alex Heath?’

‘No, his mate. Before hotshot arrived and started signing autographs left right and centre.’

‘So, where are they now?’

‘On the golf course, I presume. They both had clubs with them. His mate must have been that Kenny Danny mentioned to us.’

‘Are you sure it was him? Only after last night—’

‘Of course I’m sure. Who else would be signing autographs?’ Abi grabbed her sarong. ‘Look, if I don’t get my skates on, I’ll be late. I wanted to pre-warn you in case you see them.’

‘But how do you know it was definitely Alex Heath and not some other celebrity?’

‘Hey, I know my eyesight’s bad,’ said Abi, easing her feet into her beaded flip-flops, ‘but basically, he was tall with blondish, cropped hair and a body you’d run out of saliva drooling over. Seriously good-looking. Both of them were. Chill out, will you?’

‘Sorry.’ Rebecca squeezed Abi’s hand. ‘It’s just that according to Leanne everyone’s talking about it.’

‘Who’s Leanne when she’s at home?’

‘The masseuse. She’ll be doing yours, so she might mention it.’

‘Talking of which …’ Abi collected up the rest of her stuff. ‘Try not to fret. We’ll have some lunch when I get back, okay?’ She sprinted off through the archway.

So much for maintaining the tranquillity …

Rebecca’s little tête-à-tête with Abi had sparked the interest of two women lying nearby. Super-tanned and blinged up to their eyeballs, they were viewing Rebecca as though she’d inadvertently strayed into the VIP enclosure.

She undressed to her peach swimsuit, doing her best to ignore their blatant mutterings as she set off across the grass to the pool. Compared to the icy shower she’d taken, the temperature felt like bathwater, the warmth of it reminiscent of the sea in Bali, where she and Greg had honeymooned four years previously.

He’d love it here …

She gazed up at The Manor’s ivy-clad walls, trying not to dwell on how she’d had to coax him into booking a holiday this year. Surely once this conference of his was over, he’d show a bit more enthusiasm for it. For anything non-work-related, in fact.

She suddenly realised that a man crouching poolside in his casuals, waving at her, was Danny the barman.

‘Gosh, sorry,’ she said, bobbing her way over to him. ‘I didn’t recognise you without your bow tie. How are you?’

‘All the better for seeing you,’ he said, eyes skimming her breasts. ‘I don’t start until two. Thought I’d have a quick session in the gym. How’s the shoulder today?’

‘Fine, now I’ve had a massage,’ said Rebecca, rotating it. ‘Well and truly on the mend.’

‘Ah, good.’ He cast an eye over her head. ‘Where’s the lovely Abi this morning? Still snoring?’

‘Being pummelled as we speak.’

‘Oh, it’s pamper day, is it?’

‘You bet,’ said Rebecca, squinting up at him. She drew his attention to the pool. ‘Fantastic, isn’t it?’

‘Certainly is.’ Danny smiled down at her. ‘Been in the gym yet? Not that you need it or anything.’