Kiss (21 page)
Authors: Jill Mansell
‘I’ll make us something to eat,’ she said, at the same time wondering what on earth she might possibly conjure up. All she knew for sure was that there was enough maple-and-walnut-flavoured Angel Delight to feed an entire school, an awful lot of crisps and maybe some malt loaf that was only slightly mouldy. ‘Sweetheart, you look worn out. Why don’t you sit down and relax?’
‘I have to go out again, later.’ Andrew’s gaze was fixed on the television screen as he spoke. Katerina had said she might be able to meet him at nine. ‘A party of Dutch clients are staying overnight; they’ve invited me to join them at some restaurant in Belgravia.’
‘In that case, you’d better not eat now,’ said Marcy, overcome with relief. It also meant she would be able to watch her favourite soap in peace.
Andrew nodded, his mind elsewhere. Then, as if remembering his duty, he said, ‘So, what have you been doing today?’
The icy grip of fear churned in Marcy’s stomach. Instinctively, she rested her hand upon the fraudulent bump. ‘I went to see my doctor.’
Now she had Andrew’s attention. He sat forward, his grey eyes searching her face. ‘What did he say? Is anything wrong?’
She loved him. He had left his wife for her. And it wasn’t her fault that nature should have chosen to play such a vile trick on her.
Crossing her fingers beneath the folds of her dressing gown, Marcy smiled and shook her head. Like Scarlett, she would think about it tomorrow. ‘Nothing’s wrong,’ she said, her tone gently reassuring. ‘I’m fine, darling. We’re both
fine
.’
fine
.’
Recognizing the back view of the person ahead of him, Sam braked and slowed his car to a crawl, admiring as he did so the allure of such very good legs and such a perfect bottom. What this particular person was doing being carted along the pavement by a sandy-blond Great Dane he couldn’t imagine, but they certainly made a striking pair . . .
‘Hi,’ he said, when he had pulled alongside her. The dog, tail wagging, immediately bounded up to the open window and sniffed with interest.
With a pointed glance at the heavy chain around its neck, Sam shook the proffered paw and said solemnly, ‘You must be Izzy’s latest boyfriend.’
‘Very witty,’ said Izzy with a half-smile. ‘Where were you when we needed you, anyway? Jericho didn’t want to take the tube, which means we’ve had to walk
all
the way from Hampstead.’
all
the way from Hampstead.’
Jericho, whose dark brown eyes were even larger than Izzy’s, barked in happy agreement and attempted to lick Sam’s face.
‘And now you’re almost home,’ he remarked, pushing the dog away while he still had some aftershave left. ‘Of course, I
would
offer you a lift, but . . .’
would
offer you a lift, but . . .’
‘You forgot to bring the juggernaut,’ supplied Izzy, holding up her free hand. ‘It’s OK, we’re getting used to it. The cab drivers we tried to flag down felt the same way.’
He laughed at the expression on her face. ‘So, what’s this all about? You’ve given up song-writing in favour of professional dog-walking? I don’t know how to break this to you, sweetheart, but you’re going to have to walk twice around the world before this new venture makes you rich.’
‘He’s ours,’ Izzy replied proudly. ‘Our new male lodger.’ Then she broke into an irrepressible grin. ‘But this time we’ve got ourselves one who’s housetrained.’
Sam, whose new washing-machine had broken down, and who had driven round to Kingsley Grove in order to use theirs, had been quietly surprised by the news that Gina had acquired a dog. It wasn’t until he saw the expression on her face when Jericho loped into the kitchen that he realised that Izzy had done it again.
‘Aaagh!’ said Gina, backing away into the corner next to the fridge.
‘Woof,’ replied Jericho, regarding her with polite interest.
Despite himself, Sam wished he had a camera.
‘Whose dog is that?’ Gina squeaked, pointing at the intruder with a shaking finger. Whereupon Jericho, ever hopeful of a biscuit, stepped forward and attempted to investigate the outstretched hand before it was snatched away. Disappointed, he snuffled around Gina’s slim ankles instead.
‘Isn’t he gorgeous?’ sighed Izzy, blithely unaware of the havoc she was causing. Then, thrusting the end of the chain in Gina’s cowering direction, she announced, ‘He’s yours.’
‘No, he isn’t!’
‘Of course he is; he’s a present. A thank-you present,’ she added happily, ‘because if it hadn’t been for you, I never would have realised that I had to be a song-writer if I was ever going to get anywhere. You’ve changed my life, Gina,’ she concluded, her eyes alight with gratitude. ‘And I’d been wondering for
days
what to get you . . .’
days
what to get you . . .’
A husband, thought Gina numbly. And a peaceful, dog-free, Van Asch-less home.
‘. . . then I saw this advert in the paper this afternoon and it all fell into place, so I rushed over to Hampstead and snapped him up!’
‘He looks as if he wants to snap me up,’ Gina said, her voice faint, but Izzy was already down on her knees, fondling the enormous dog’s ears with affection and freeing him from his chain.
‘He’s just hungry, bless him. We both are. Oh look, he’s shaking paws again . . . isn’t he adorable? And just think,’ she added triumphantly, ‘of all the advantages of having a dog!’
‘Burglars,’ said Sam. Izzy was an utter disgrace, but her heart was unarguably in the right place. A dog lover himself, he was incapable of remaining as impartial as he should have been. As long as he had known Gina he had known how much she mistrusted dogs.
‘Men!’ exclaimed Izzy, so thrilled with her own reasoning that she was unable to keep the discovery to herself. ‘You see, that’s what’s so brilliant! I was reading an article in the same paper about husband-hunting . . . about ways of meeting new men,’ she amended rapidly. ‘And taking your dog for a walk in the park was top of the list. It’s sociable without being obvious, you start off by saying, “Hallo, how are you this morning?” and before you know where you are, the dentist with the golden retriever is inviting you out to dinner. It’s a cinch!’
Sam had to admire her style. Helping himself to a can of lager from the fridge, he sat down to enjoy the ensuing argument.
‘It’s great exercise, as well,’ Izzy added as an afterthought, since Gina didn’t appear to be as thrilled with her present as she should have been. ‘And of course Sam’s absolutely right; he’ll see off any burglars, not to mention carol singers, in a flash . . .’
‘I’m scared of dogs.’ Gina spoke through gritted teeth; at this very moment in time Jericho was eyeing her keenly, salivating and presumably anticipating the prospect of her ankles. If Izzy had to give her a dog, why couldn’t it at least have been something small and manageable?
‘But that’s ridiculous,’ Izzy declared passionately, still on one knee and with her arms open wide. ‘Nobody on earth could possibly be afraid of Jericho! The only reason his previous owners had to let him go was because
he
was scared of their poodle. He needs love and understanding,’ she went on, sensing weakness, ‘to build up his confidence. And lots and lots of wonderful walks in the park . . .’
he
was scared of their poodle. He needs love and understanding,’ she went on, sensing weakness, ‘to build up his confidence. And lots and lots of wonderful walks in the park . . .’
It said much for Izzy’s powers of persuasion that within the space of two hours she had managed to dispatch Gina and Jericho, albeit with some reluctance, to the nearby park, with instructions to take a turn around the pond and enjoy the last of the sun.
Sam, however, was doubly impressed by Izzy’s subsequent dash to the phone and her heartfelt pleas with not one but three dog-owning male friends. If they would just do her the biggest favour in the world, take their animals for a quick zip around the pond on the east side of Kensington Gardens and say something friendly in passing to the nervous blonde with the Great Dane, she would be for ever in their debt . . .
The real miracle, of course, was that they agreed to do so. But if Izzy possessed anything in abundance, Sam reminded himself, it was charm. Besides, she also had some extremely weird friends.
‘Your washing’s done,’ she observed, as the machine finally subsided into exhausted silence forty minutes later.
‘And you’re trying to change the subject.’ Clean shirts were only half the reason for his visit. Stranger even than Izzy’s friends had been the urge . . . almost a physical
need
. . . to see her again. He might still be saddled with his own unwanted house guest, but Sam hadn’t forgotten that evening in his office, whereas as far as Izzy was concerned it might never have happened. They were back to square one, he thought, and her apparent amnesia for the event was becoming, as far as
he
was concerned, bloody irritating.
need
. . . to see her again. He might still be saddled with his own unwanted house guest, but Sam hadn’t forgotten that evening in his office, whereas as far as Izzy was concerned it might never have happened. They were back to square one, he thought, and her apparent amnesia for the event was becoming, as far as
he
was concerned, bloody irritating.
‘I’m worried about that red shirt,’ said Izzy, who hadn’t forgotten at all. Before, biding her time and enjoying the interplay between them had been fun. Now, however, the situation had changed. Knowing and liking Vivienne had put a real dampener on things, and she had decided to keep her distance until the situation resolved itself. It wouldn’t do any harm, she had told herself, and in the mean time she could concentrate her attention on her work.
Now, slightly flustered, she repeated, ‘Your red shirt. It might have run.’
Sam simply looked at her and said nothing.
‘Oh, shit,’ said Izzy, with feeling. For something to do, she yanked open the door of the washing-machine and began pulling out damp clothes. ‘Look, whether you wanted it to happen or not, the fact remains that Vivienne is living with you in your flat.’
‘Staying,’ he corrected her. ‘Not living.’
‘Whatever,’ she sighed. It was easier to talk when she didn’t have to look at him. Serious eye contact, under the circumstances, was decidedly unsettling. ‘For once in my life I’m trying to do the honourable thing, so it really isn’t fair of you to give me a hard time.’
‘It isn’t very fair on me, either,’ Sam pointed out. Drumming his fingers against his now empty lager can, he wondered just how much this had to do with the new man she’d told him about, the ‘very attractive’ man after whom she had lusted so vigorously. He frowned. ‘Are you still seeing that guy?’
Izzy, who had forgotten all about her own private joke, assumed he was referring to Benny Dunaway. Still with her back to Sam, she said, ‘Of course I am.’
‘Of course,’ he echoed with a trace of irony. Determined as she was not to come between Vivienne and himself, the question of her own monogamy never even occurred to her. In her eyes, it simply wasn’t an issue.
A volley of barks interrupted his train of thought at that moment, which under the circumstances, Sam decided, was just as well. As long as Vivienne remained in his flat and Izzy continued to see her partner-in-lust, there was precious little to either say or do.
The next moment, Jericho clawed open the kitchen door and, recognizing Izzy crouched before the washing-machine, hurled himself at her in a frenzy of delight. Sam’s red shirt went flying and landed in the bowl of water which had been set out for Jericho earlier.
‘Well?’ said Sam. Gina’s face was flushed and she was out of breath.
‘Well, what?’
‘Did he behave himself?’ said Izzy brightly, and Gina swung round, looking more startled than ever.
‘Who?’
Izzy rolled her eyes in despair. ‘Jericho! Are we keeping him or must he go back to face a life of miserable tyranny at the paws of a poodle named Pete?’
‘Oh . . . he was very well behaved,’ Gina replied, not altogether truthfully. With a quick glance in his direction - he was at this moment burying his nose up the sleeve of the hapless red shirt - she took a gulp of air and attempted to steady her breathing. ‘I don’t think it would be very fair, sending him back,’ she continued with a brief, tentative smile. ‘Not now that he’s got to know us.’
‘Of course it wouldn’t.’ Izzy smiled back, making a playful grab for the dog’s ears. ‘Ah, look at him . . . he’s tired. But how about you, did
you
enjoy the walk?’
you
enjoy the walk?’
Gina sat down suddenly on one of the kitchen chairs, her eyes brighter than ever. ‘As a matter of fact, I did. And I didn’t believe you when you said it,’ she added, torn between a mixture of embarrassment and pride, ‘but you were certainly right about meeting other people walking their dogs. It just seems to . . . well,
happen
.’
happen
.’
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