‘I’ve just been saved by Superman,’ said Maddy. ‘Thanks.’
‘No problem.’ He sounded entertained. ‘Nice pants, by the way.’
‘It hasn’t been my night.’ Twisting round, Maddy ruefully examined the rip in her white trousers.
‘I’ll have to go home now. God, they’re completely wrecked.’
‘You can’t rush off. I’ve only just rescued you. Come on, there’s a bench over there. We can stay out here for a bit.’
They sat down on the bench. He was wearing a pale grey shirt with the cuffs folded back, and black trousers that melted into the darkness. Breathing in, she smelled soap and the faint tang of aftershave, possibly Hugo Boss. Maybe the evening wasn’t going to be such a disaster after all. Cheering up, Maddy said, ‘So, Superman, what brought you out into the garden?’
‘Keeping out of the way of a jealous husband.’
‘Really? If he’s that jealous, why did you marry him?’
He smiled. ‘His wife wouldn’t leave me alone. I wasn’t encouraging her, but she’s a bit drunk.
Her husband was getting irritated so I escaped to the kitchen. Then, as I was looking out of the window, I saw a blonde head bobbing up and down like a ping-pong ball over the wall at the end of this garden.
Thought I’d come out and see what was going on.’
‘I’m glad you did.’ Maddy shivered as the cool night air sank through her thin purple top. ‘I wouldn’t have slept well over there.’ It struck her that as far as she could tell, she hadn’t spotted her rescuer at the party. ‘Have you been here long?’
‘Here at the party? Twenty minutes. Or did you mean here in Bath?’ His eyes sparkled. ‘In which case, I grew up around here, then moved away years ago. I’ve been back a few months now, running a PR company. Callaghan and Fox.’
‘Really? I know it!’ Brightening, Maddy said, ‘You’re on the top floor of Claremont House. I deliver sandwiches to the accountants on the first floor.’
He tilted his head to one side. ‘Sandwiches. Good ones?’
‘Excuse me! Completely brilliant ones. We do baps, bagels, baguettes, cartons of rice and pasta and salady things, homemade cakes, everything you could want.’ Spotting an opportunity, Maddy said innocently, ‘And very cheerful service. Everyone says we’re the best.’
‘Do they now? And you’re reliable?’
‘If we weren’t reliable, everyone wouldn’t say we were the best. Who does yours?’ asked Maddy, although she already knew.
‘Blunkett’s, the place on Armitage Street.’ Her rescuer pulled a face. ‘They’re OK, but sometimes they get to us late and all the best stuff has gone.’
‘That must be so annoying. We make-to-order. One of our clients is pregnant and we take her chicken and banana baguettes with spring onions and Marmite. I just feel sorry for the baby.’ Maddy shivered as another gust of wind sliced through her; it might be June, but this was England and everyone with an ounce of sense was inside.
‘You’re cold,’ he observed. ‘I’d lend you my jacket if I was wearing one. Look, take this.’
Digging his wallet from his back pocket, he pulled out a business card.
‘It’s not going to keep me very warm.’
‘Come and see us on Monday morning. Maybe it’s time for a change.’
Yay, result. Maddy tucked the card in her pocket, delighted by the happy turn this evening had taken.
Not only a nice-sounding man but a potential addition to her client list.
‘Excellent.’ Rising to her feet, she felt a draught as the L-shaped tear at the back of her trousers flapped open. ‘Around eleven o’clock, is that OK? You’ll be there then?’
‘I’ll be there. Just go to the reception desk and ask for—’
‘I know.’ Maddy patted the pocket containing his business card and broke into a grin. ‘Ask for Superman.’
Kate was going home. Back to England, back to Ashcombe. Not because she wanted to, but because she didn’t have a lot of choice. New York was no longer her kind of town. Swish Park Avenue hotels weren’t interested in employing a receptionist with a scarred face; her appearance didn’t fit with the ambience. Basically, she was a bit of a turn-off. Kicking up an almighty fuss and threatening to sue them might have been an option, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it. She was sick of being treated like a freak anyway. Every time she ventured out onto the streets there were another million or so New Yorkers ready to point and stare at her. After a while it really got you down.
Turning away from the window of her loft apartment in East Village, Kate caught sight of her reflection in the oval mirror on the wall opposite. Even now, almost a year later, an unexpected glimpse of herself – that can’t be me! Oh God, it is me – still had the power to give her a jolt.
There was no getting away from it, she was now officially ugly. Oh, how everyone in Ashcombe would laugh when they saw her. Not to her face, maybe, but certainly behind her back. She was under no illusions about that. It wasn’t a comfortable thing to have to admit, but if anyone truly deserved their comeuppance, it was her.
‘How’s it going with the packing?’ Mimi, her barely-there flatmate, poked her head round the bedroom door. Honestly, Mimi spent so little time at their apartment it was a wonder sometimes that Kate recognised her.
‘Slowly.’ Kate picked up a pair of Calvin Klein pink denims and half-heartedly folded them into one of the cases lying open on the bed.
‘We’re off to the movies, you’re welcome to come along if you want.’ Mimi flashed the kind of over bright smile that signalled: Look, I’m saying it but I don’t actually mean it.
‘No thanks. I’d better get on with this.’ Kate wondered what would happen to Mimi’s smile if she’d said, ‘Oh
