Kiss (5 page)
Authors: Jill Mansell
Her attention was caught moments later by the appearance in the double doorway of a visitor, chiefly because of the sound of her high heels tapping rhythmically against the polished wooden floor. Glancing up, Izzy saw a tall, slender woman with blonde hair fastened in a chignon and an extremely sophisticated ivory-and-black Chanel-style suit. Pausing uncertainly in the centre of the ward, she surveyed the beds lining each side of the ward and adjusted the bag slung over her padded shoulder with a nervous gesture.
‘They’re all in the TV room,’ said Izzy, pointing towards it with her nail-polish brush. ‘Shit!’ she exclaimed, as a glossy blob of fuchsia landed in her lap, wrecking for ever her second-best white T-shirt. Then she grinned, because the visitor had assumed a determinedly unshockable expression and was approaching the foot of her bed.
‘Sorry. These things are sent to try us. Who is it you’re looking for?’ Privately, she had already made her decision. This had to be either the dentist’s wife or Wing Commander Burton’s daughter. Nobody else on the ward could afford even to know someone who wore those kind of clothes.
‘Actually,’ said the woman, her gaze flickering to the name card fastened above Izzy’s bed, ‘I think I’m looking for you.’
Not having known what to expect, Gina was nevertheless taken aback by the sight of Isabel Van Asch. When she had been lying in the road, her face obscured by the visor of her motor-cycle helmet, she had at first mistaken her for a man. Then, following that decidedly unnerving visit from her daughter, Gina had mentally envisaged her to be a large, somewhat butch female in her mid-forties, with short hair and an aggressive manner.
But this person sitting before her now was small and undeniably feminine. With her expressive dark eyes, smiling mouth and riotous bluey-black hair framing a heart-shaped face, she wasn’t at all what Gina had had in mind while she had been plucking up the courage to come here. She looked younger than Gina herself, she was wearing a white T-shirt and bright pink, lycra cycling shorts and she didn’t look the least bit intimidating.
Gina, however, who had learned over the past difficult few days not to take anything or anyone at face value, was intimidated anyway. Doing herself up to the nines and finding first the right hospital and then the right ward had sapped her strength completely. On the verge of losing her nerve, she sat down on Izzy’s empty visitor’s chair with a thump.
‘But I don’t know you,’ said Izzy, looking puzzled. Her dark eyebrows disappeared beneath her haphazard fringe. Her fingers, their nails still wet with pink polish, were splayed in the air before her. Then, with a trace of suspicion, she said, ‘You aren’t a social worker, are you?’
‘I am not,’ replied Gina, as shocked as if she had been suspected of prostitution. Did she look like a social worker, for heaven’s sake?
But now that the moment had arrived, she was unable to find the words to introduce herself. And surely, she thought with a surge of resentment, that terrifying teenage daughter would have described her to her mother. Isabel Van Asch must know who she was; she was just extracting maximum pleasure from an awkward moment.
‘Oh well,’ said Izzy, remarkably unperturbed. ‘It’s nice to have a visitor, anyway, even if it is an anonymous one.’ Reaching with difficulty for a half-empty box of chocolates in her locker drawer, she offered them to Gina. ‘Would you like a rum truffle?’
‘I’m Gina Lawrence,’ Gina blurted out, because someone had to say it and the woman clearly wasn’t about to oblige.
The expressive eyebrows remained perplexed. Izzy shook her head and Gina caught a waft of expensive scent. Thorntons truffles and Diorella, she thought darkly; so much for the homeless, impoverished, six-feet-below-the-breadline sob story spun to her by the daughter.
‘I was driving the car that collided with your motor bike,’ she said, enunciating the words with care. Although the accident had undoubtedly been her fault, her solicitor had cautioned her most sternly against admitting anything at all.
‘Oh, right!’ exclaimed Izzy, through a mouthful of truffle. Then, to Gina’s amazement, she stuck out her hand. ‘Gosh, no wonder you were so twitchy when you came in. And how nice of you to come and see me. I’m sorry, I really should have recognised you, but I was in a bit of a state that night. Apart from your legs, I didn’t take much in at all. God, sorry - I didn’t realise my nails were still wet . . . look, are you quite sure you won’t have a chocolate?’
Bemused, Gina shook her head. ‘Your . . . daughter,’ she said falteringly, ‘came to see me yesterday morning.’
‘She did?’ Now it was Izzy’s turn to look stunned. ‘Why on earth should she have done that? She didn’t even mention it last night.’
‘Mrs Van Asch,’ began Gina. ‘She—’
‘Miss. I’m not married. But please call me Izzy,’ said Izzy, chucking the box of truffles back on to her locker. ‘But how strange.What did she want, anyway?’
‘My husband left me,’ said Gina hurriedly. There, another hurdle cleared. If she said it fast enough, it didn’t make her cry. ‘And your daughter told me that I was a selfish bitch. She said that as a result of the accident you’d lost two . . . er . . . boyfriends. I don’t really
know
why I’m here, but I suppose I thought I ought to come to see you and apologise. And something else I don’t understand,’ she added with a burst of honest to goodness curiosity, ‘is how you can lose two boyfriends at the same time.What happened?’
know
why I’m here, but I suppose I thought I ought to come to see you and apologise. And something else I don’t understand,’ she added with a burst of honest to goodness curiosity, ‘is how you can lose two boyfriends at the same time.What happened?’
‘So, she made you feel guilty,’ mused Izzy, a wry smile lifting the corners of her mouth. ‘My God, that girl has a positive talent for digging at consciences. She does exactly the same to me when I haven’t hung my clothes up for a week. Still,’ she added sternly, ‘she shouldn’t have called you a selfish bitch. That’s going too far. Don’t worry, I’ll have a word with her about that. And you really mustn’t worry,’ she added, leaning forward impulsively and resting her hand upon Gina’s. ‘She can be a bit self-righteous at times but she doesn’t really mean it. You know what teenagers are like.’
Gina shook her head, sadly. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘Well!’ Izzy rolled her eyes. ‘Let me tell you that they can be the living end! Kat’s an absolute angel but sometimes I almost wish I could disown her - like now. She might have twelve GCSEs, but she can still make an idiot of herself when she wants to. I really am sorry she upset you, Mrs Lawrence. And when I see her tonight I promise you I’ll give her a good slapping.’
‘Oh, but you mustn’t—’ Gina broke off, realizing a couple of milliseconds too late that the other woman was joking. Colour rose in her pale cheeks. ‘Please,’ she amended hastily. ‘My name’s Gina.’
She hadn’t fooled Izzy, however, and they both knew it.
‘Tell me about the boyfriends,’ said Gina, changing the subject, and Izzy pulled a face.
‘It has its funny side, I suppose, although I was too out of it at the time to appreciate the humour, and when I did realise what I’d done I was pretty pissed off. Maybe it’ll be funny in a few weeks’ time.’ She shrugged, pausing to admire her painted nails, then briefly outlined the details of the mix-up, culminating in the prompt departure of both Mike and Ralph from her life.
The unorthodox arrangement - not to mention Izzy’s pragmatic attitude towards it - was something quite outside Gina’s experience. She’d never met anyone like her in her life.
‘Aren’t you devastated?’ she said finally.
Izzy looked thoughtful. ‘I suppose so, but wailing and weeping isn’t going to do me much good, is it? Besides, Kat says it would only give me wrinkles.’
‘Mmm.’ Gina, who had spent the majority of the past few days weeping and wailing, experienced a twinge of guilt. At this rate, she supposed she was lucky not to look a hundred and fifty years old. ‘Your daughter also told me that you were about to be thrown out of your flat. What will you do when that happens?’
‘Well,’ said Izzy in a confidential whisper, as a nurse strode briskly past, ‘since I’m between men, as they say, I thought I might as well seduce my landlord. See if I can’t persuade him to change his mercenary old mind . . .’
‘Are you joking?’ asked Katerina, two days later. She didn’t know whether to laugh and the expression on her mother’s face was making her feel decidedly uneasy.
‘Of course not,’ Izzy replied with enthusiasm. ‘Would I joke about something as serious as our imminent vagrancy? It’s perfect, darling. The answer to a desperate mother’s prayer.’
‘But she’s an old witch!’
‘She is not.’ Seeing the mutinous glitter in Katerina’s eyes, Izzy knew she had to be firm. ‘She’s just going through a rough time at the moment. I thought it was amazingly kind of her to make the offer - and it isn’t as if we have much of an alternative, anyway,’ she reminded her daughter briskly. ‘I was going to ask Rachel and Jake if we could stay with them for a while, but they really don’t have the room, whereas Gina’s rattling around on her own in that big house of hers and she needs some company at the moment . . .’
‘What about money?’ Katerina demanded. The idea of having to keep that woman company was positively chilling; she’d rather share a hot bath with Freddie Kruger.
‘Rent free for the first month,’ Izzy replied with an air of triumph. ‘And then the same as we’ve been paying Markham. Now isn’t that a great deal?’ she exclaimed. ‘Be honest, where would you prefer to live, Clapham or Kensington? Or was a plastic bench on Tottenham Court Road tube station what you’d really set your heart on?’
Since there wasn’t really any satisfactory answer to that, Kat said nothing.
‘There you are then,’ concluded Izzy, glad that it was sorted.
‘I still don’t like her.’
‘We’re renting a couple of rooms in her house, we don’t have to
marry
her.’ She flashed a flawless smile at the dentist as he zipped past in his wheelchair with his smashed-and-plastered leg stuck out at right angles before him. ‘And since we don’t have any choice, we may as well make the most of it. Sweetheart, who knows? It might even be fun!’
marry
her.’ She flashed a flawless smile at the dentist as he zipped past in his wheelchair with his smashed-and-plastered leg stuck out at right angles before him. ‘And since we don’t have any choice, we may as well make the most of it. Sweetheart, who knows? It might even be fun!’
Chapter 6
Gina didn’t know what she’d got herself into. She was suffering from a severe attack of doubt which erupted from time to time into near panic. Never one to act upon impulse, she couldn’t understand why she should have done so now, when her entire life was in the process of being turned on its head anyway and the last thing she needed was more trauma. And although she had tried to shift the blame on to Andrew, she was uncomfortably aware that from now on she wasn’t going to be able to do that. As from last week, she had become unwillingly responsible for her own life and already she was making a diabolical mess of it.
Visiting Isabel Van Asch in the hospital had succeeded in taking her mind off Andrew for an hour, which was miraculous in itself. She had gone in order to salve her vaguely pricking conscience, and had come away impressed. She’d never met anyone like Isabel - Izzy - before and the novelty of the woman had been a revelation. Imagining what it must be like to live so carelessly, to be so
unworried
, had occupied her thoughts for the rest of the afternoon. But since she wasn’t Izzy, and because she was quite incapable of casting off her own worries, as darkness had fallen so she had sunk back into depression. Women like Izzy simply didn’t understand what it was like, not being able to stop thinking about disaster, Gina had realised miserably, whereas she was constantly haunted by reminders of Andrew.
unworried
, had occupied her thoughts for the rest of the afternoon. But since she wasn’t Izzy, and because she was quite incapable of casting off her own worries, as darkness had fallen so she had sunk back into depression. Women like Izzy simply didn’t understand what it was like, not being able to stop thinking about disaster, Gina had realised miserably, whereas she was constantly haunted by reminders of Andrew.
And then at eight-thirty that evening, quite unexpectedly, Andrew had arrived at the house and she didn’t need to imagine him any more because he was there in the flesh, achingly familiar and even more achingly businesslike.
‘We have to discuss the financial aspects of all this,’ he told Gina, refusing with a shake of his head her offer of a drink and opening his briefcase with a brisk flick of his thumb. He wasn’t quite meeting her eyes and a fresh spasm of grief caught in her chest. Handle this with a shrug and a smile, Izzy Van Asch, she thought savagely. It was no good, it couldn’t be done. When it was the husband you loved in front of you it wasn’t humanly possible.
‘We don’t have to,’ she had wailed. ‘You could come back. I
forgive
you . . .’
forgive
you . . .’
Even as the words were spilling out she had been despising herself for her weakness. And they hadn’t worked anyway. Andrew had given her a pitying look and launched into a speech he had prepared earlier, the upshot being that Gina was going to have to realise that money didn’t grow on trees. The house was hers, inherited from her parents, and he naturally had no intention of staking any kind of claim upon it, but the credit cards were no longer going to be fair game, always there to allow herself such little treats as new furniture, holidays in the sun and the latest designer outfits.
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