Guy smiled. ‘Actually this is my invite. It seemed only fair to ask you to be my partner.’
‘Oh.’ Her stomach took a spiralling dive.
‘It’s next Friday,’ he pointed out. ‘You’ll have to get Paula to take over here. I thought we’d fly up around lunchtime, spend the night at the hotel and come back on Saturday morning.’
‘I see,’ said Janey cautiously, ‘How much are the rooms?’
Guy’s eyes glittered with amusement. ‘Don’t panic, that’s already been taken care of. All you have to do is chuck an evening dress into a suitcase.’
She hesitated. ‘Right.’
‘You do have an evening dress?’ He looked concerned. The thought had evidently only just struck him.
Janey, feeling more and more like a decidedly second-rate Cinderella, experienced a surge of resentment. Maybe, she thought crossly, he’d like to take care of that too.
‘Of course I do,’ she lied smoothly, lifting her chin in defiance. ‘No need to panic. I won’t turn up in anything Crimplene.’
Whilst it was perfectly acceptable for Maxine to drool over Mel Gibson, developing a crush on someone you knew was somehow infinitely more embarrassing. Janey, unhappily contemplating her own schoolgirlish infatuation with Guy, couldn’t believe how juvenile she was being. She didn’t even know why it should suddenly have happened, anyway. For months she’d been fine, then ... wham! ... one full-blown crush, sprung up from nowhere, threatening to make her look even more of an idiot than she already felt.
It must be because of Alan, she told herself; some bizarre kind of reaction to being properly single again. Whatever, it was deeply and horribly humiliating.
‘Who’s that?’ said Paula, peering over her shoulder. Janey, who hadn’t realized she’d come up behind her, jumped a mile.
‘Just some old magazine.’ Hastily, she tried to turn the page. ‘I found it under the counter.’
‘It’s Guy!’ Paula, ever helpful, pointed him out. ‘Oh look, he’s with Valentina di Angelo ...
isn’t she stunning? You must be so excited about Friday,’ she added dreamily. ‘Imagine, going to a ball with Guy Cassidy. Everyone will think you’re a couple. By this time next week, you could be splashed across the pages of some gossip column ... what are you wearing, by the way?
Have you decided yet? Not lime-green cycling shorts, I hope, like vampy Valentina!’
Janey, who had imagined nothing but going to a ball with Guy Cassidy for the last six days, and who knew only too well that he had felt morally obliged to invite her, closed the magazine and chucked it into the bin.
‘I’m not wearing anything,’ she murmured wearily. It really was the only answer. Turning, she caught Paula’s goggle-eyed expression and forced a smile. ‘Because I’m not going.’
Guy, who had been up half the night working in the darkroom, was still in bed when Janey phoned at eleven o’clock on Thursday morning.
‘Hi, it’s me,’ she said quickly. ‘Um, I’m in a bit of a rush, so I’ll just say it. I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to make it tomorrow after all. Paula’s gone down with terrible flu so she won’t be able to look after the shop, and there’s no one else who can do it so I’m going to have to stay here. I really am sorry,’ she gabbled, not sounding it, ‘but I thought I’d better let you know as soon as possible. I’m sure you’ve got dozens of other girls to choose from ...’
Guy, barely awake, propped himself up in bed.
‘I chose you.’ He sounded distinctly put out. ‘I thought you’d enjoy it. Look, we could fly back on Friday night if it would help. Surely there’s somebody capable of holding the fort for a couple of hours in the afternoon? What about your mother?’
‘No, nobody.’ Janey was firm. ‘So it was kind of you to ask me, but I’m afraid that’s it. I know you’ll still have fun there, anyway. Just ring up someone else ... oh God, more customers coming in ... I really must go ...’
Damn, thought Guy, when she had hurriedly hung up. Bloody Paula. Bloody flu. Bloody hell.
Paula, who had been lugging bottle gardens the size of coffee tables in from the back of the shop, stopped to lean against the counter and catch her breath. Bright-eyed and pink-cheeked, she said, ‘I haven’t got flu.’
‘One little white lie.’ Janey, just glad to have done the deed, excused herself with a shrug.
‘What happens when he asks my mum if I’m better yet? She’ll think he’s gone off his rocker.’
‘Your mother only works for Guy on Mondays and Wednesdays,’ Janey replied evenly. ‘By then it won’t matter any more.’
‘Hmm.’ Paula looked unconvinced. ‘Well I don’t know why you won’t go to the do anyway. It sounds brilliant. If anyone’s off their rocker around here,’ she added darkly, ‘it’s you.’
‘Oh darling, you’ll never believe it ... the best news in the world!’ Maxine, erupting through the front door of the cottage, flung herself into Bruno’s arms. ‘My agent just rang to tell me I’ve landed a part in Romsey Road! You’re hugging the next Bet Lynch ... the future queen of the soaps ... the biggest new name in television since Miss Piggy!’
‘Thank God.’ Bruno, who loathed every minute of his job at the unbelievably stuffy Grand Rock, heaved a sigh of relief. ‘You can take me away from all this. They film it in Manchester don’t they? When do we leave?’
‘Well ...’ Maxine hesitated. ‘I start next week, but don’t hand your notice in yet. It’s only a walk-on ... or rather, a mince-on part,’ she amended with a grin. ‘I play a white-stilettoed trollop with a severe case of dangly-earring who tries to proposition the local vicar. He turns me down and I flounce off in a huff. But at least I’m in it!’ Her brown eyes danced as she gave Bruno another almighty hug. ‘And once they see how brilliant I am they’re bound to want me to stay.’
‘Next week?’ He frowned. ‘How does Guy Cassidy feel about this?’
‘Oh, he’s fed up with the weather. He decided this morning to take the kids to St Lucia.
Some friends of his have a massive house there. I said I wanted to go too, so he was as thrilled as I was when the call came through this afternoon.’ She grinned. ‘Now he doesn’t have to pay for my plane ticket.’
