‘OK, here’s the thing. Maddy shouldn’t have shouted at you, she knows she has to apologise, but she’s in a bit of a state right now, what with everything hitting the fan the way it did. So if you wouldn’t mind, she’d like to make her grovelling apologies later.’ As he spoke, he was leading her towards the door.
Kate said suspiciously, ‘So why are you taking me home?’
‘Because damsels in distress are my speciality. Besides,’ Jake gestured over the road to where Malcolm was now sitting with a sketchpad outside his workshop, ‘any excuse for an afternoon off.’
Dauncey House was cool and empty, with Oliver up in London as usual and Estelle off on one of her periodic half-hearted health and fitness kicks. This involved paying a visit to the ruinously expensive gym to which she belonged, gingerly attempting a few exercises on the less terrifying machines, then greeting her female friends with delight and repairing to the terrace for a good gossip over salad and a Diet Coke. Since this left them feeling every bit as virtuous as two hours on the treadmill, and involved far less sweating, it was a popular pastime amongst the wealthy wives who went there during the afternoon. Estelle was unlikely to be back before five.
‘Hey, damsel, you’ve got mascara on your cheeks.’
They were in the kitchen. Kate instinctively made a move towards the downstairs cloakroom to wash her face, but Jake stopped her. Running a piece of kitchen towel under the tap, he drew her towards him and gently rubbed at the black marks under her eyes. Realising that he was removing the carefully applied scar concealer at the same time, Kate tried to pull away but Jake shook his head and said,
‘Don’t be silly, it’s fine. You’re not as scary as you think.’
He was so close to her now. She couldn’t bring herself to look at his face, but he smelled of shampoo and outdoors and, very faintly, acrylic varnish. Kate was under his spell; she normally removed her mascara with Clinique cleanser at twenty quid a tube and supersoft cotton wool pads. Yet here was Jake Harvey rubbing away at her delicate under-eye areas with a wodge of wet kitchen towel –
and she didn’t want him to stop.
‘Not as tough as you like to make out either,’ Jake observed and she felt her throat tighten. He was being so kind.
‘It’s not much fun being accused of something you didn’t do.’ Kate shook her head. ‘I would never have told Marcella.’
‘I know that.’
‘But Maddy didn’t. That’s what really got to me, I think. She seriously thought I had. I mean, I know we don’t get on,’ Kate blurted out, ‘but I wouldn’t risk Marcella losing the baby, would I? I’d
‘Damsel, calm down. I told you, Maddy’s going to apologise. She’s not having the best time right now. Crikey, none of us are having the best time.’ Jake rolled his eyes. ‘Let me tell you, it’s no picnic sharing a house with Nuala. When she isn’t bleating on about Dexter and how she’s never going to get another boyfriend, she’s asking me to help her on with her trainers. It’s like living with a three-year-old all over again.’
Kate felt a pang of solidarity with Nuala; she often wondered if she’d ever find another boyfriend herself.
‘Anyway, how about you?’ said Jake, changing the subject as they made their way through to the conservatory. ‘You’ve been back a few weeks now. Looks to me as though you’ve settled right in.’
‘Kind of,’ Kate conceded. Certainly, she’d never imagined herself working in the pub and, more astounding still, actually enjoying it.
‘You’re a natural behind that bar.’ Collapsing onto one of the squashy lime-green sofas, Jake patted the space next to him. ‘I bet you never thought it would be that easy to get back to normal.’
‘Normal?’ Kate’s laughter was hollow. How could he possibly think her life was back to normal?
‘Isn’t it? Oh, come on,’ Jake protested, ‘you’re doing brilliantly. Nobody in the pub even notices your scars any more.’
‘My accident happened fourteen months ago. I haven’t been kissed by a man since then, let alone had sex with one. How normal do you suppose that feels?’ The moment she’d finished blurting the words out, Kate wished she hadn’t. What’s more, how on earth could Jake be expected to have an inkling how it felt? He’d probably never gone without sex for as long as fourteen days.
He was definitely looking flummoxed.
‘Sorry.’ Kate gazed at the floor. ‘Shouldn’t have said that.’
‘Are you serious? Nothing at all? Not even in New York?’ Ha, especially in New York.
‘I think I’d have noticed.’
‘But why not?’ Jake was genuinely concerned.
‘Why d’you think? Who’d look at my face and be overcome with lust?’ Irritated, Kate said, ‘People see my scars and they run a mile.’
‘Wrong.’ Jake was shaking his head.
‘Don’t patronise me. I know what I look like.’
‘People see you with your defences up, snapping and snarling and not giving an inch, and that’s why they run a mile. Trust me, it’s not your face that scares them off,’ Jake said bluntly. ‘It’s you.’
‘Well, thanks.’ Kate’s jaw tightened.
‘Just being honest, damsel.’ Unperturbed by her frosty manner, Jake said mischievously, ‘So, feel like giving it a go?’
Kate stopped breathing; she actually felt her lungs freeze in mid-flow.
‘What?’
