‘Hasn’t said it to me,’ murmured Maxine as Bruno made his way across the restaurant to greet them. ‘Hmm, and very nice too. Is he gay?’
‘Is the Pope Jewish?’ countered Bruno, who possessed 20-20 hearing. Embracing Janey and at the same time studying Maxine over her shoulder he murmured, ‘Darling, what have you been telling this poor girl?’
‘She isn’t a poor girl, she’s my sister.’ As if Bruno hadn’t already guessed, Janey thought morosely. Hadn’t she, after all, been complaining to him about Maxine for the past fortnight?
‘Maxine Vaughan,’ said Maxine, gazing with interest at possibly the only man on the planet capable of making Janey blush. He wasn’t what you’d call startlingly good-looking but the eyes were the greenest she’d ever seen and the grin was irrepressible. He was, she decided, one of those men with an indefinable aura of attractiveness about them ... a wonderfully wicked, tantalizing aura of attractiveness.
Janey, in turn watching Maxine survey Bruno, prayed she hadn’t made a hideous mistake in agreeing to come here. On the one hand, Bruno’s attentions were always guaranteed to boost her morale, and whenever Maxine was around, God knows, it needed boosting.
On the other hand, however, just introducing Bruno and Maxine was playing with fire. A bloody great bonfire, thought Janey ruefully, for already the inevitable sparks of interest were there. She could almost predict what would follow. Maxine and Bruno, both brimming with confidence and rapier-like repartee, were a perfectly matched pair. Whilst she, in dismal contrast, could practically feel herself melting into the wallpaper.
As she had known he would, Bruno ushered them to the most favoured table in the restaurant, next to the window.
‘Come on, forty minutes over coffee is long enough,’ he informed the diners already seated there. Whisking away cups and liqueur glasses and signalling to one of the waitresses to bring fresh linen and cutlery, he added briskly, ‘Time’s up, off you go, don’t forget to leave an enormous tip.’
‘Charming,’ muttered the younger of the two men. Bruno, winking at Janey and Maxine, slipped an arm around their waists and gave them both an appreciative squeeze.
‘Charming isn’t the word, sir. These ladies are stupendous ... magnificent ... the jewels in my own personal crown. And just think, if you hadn’t spent practically a week’s wages earlier on that ludicrously expensive bottle of wine, you might even have been able to afford to take them home with you for the night.’
‘Hmmph,’ snorted the older man, eyeing Maxine’s bare legs with disdain as he rose to his feet.
‘And hmmph to you too,’ said Bruno cheerfully, guiding them towards the door. ‘Goodbye, gentlemen. Have a wonderful evening. See you again very soon.’
‘Gosh,’ said Maxine, watching with admiration as Bruno waved them off the premises. ‘Is he always like this?’
Janey, who was studying the menu, nodded. ‘All the time.’
‘But doesn’t he lose an awful lot of customers?’
Janey shrugged. ‘Bruno says it keeps them on their toes. And the ones he doesn’t kick out are so grateful they leave bigger tips.’
Maxine was clearly impressed. When Bruno returned to their table with a bottle of Pouilly Fume and pulled up another chair, Janey was surprised she didn’t offer to sit on his lap.
‘I love this place,’ Maxine declared, her expansive gesture encompassing the green and white decor, the latticed ceiling and the spectacular view from the window. ‘Thank goodness we didn’t go to La Campagnola! And why on earth hasn’t my big sister brought me here before?’
Having given Janey a look of mock reproach, she returned her attention to Bruno. ‘She’s a sly one, I must say. She told me she didn’t know any interesting men in Trezale.’ With an arch smile, she added, ‘And to think that you were here all the time.’
Janey, who would have torn out her own tonsils rather than come out with such a line, stared at her in disbelief. Was she being serious? Did other women really say things like that and get away with it? Had Maxine no shame?
The answer, it seemed, was no. If anything, her sister was looking more entranced than ever. The thin straps of her indigo camisole were slipping off her shoulders now and she was making no attempt to pull them up again. Her dark eyes, illuminated by candlelight, were bright with unconcealed interest.
‘But how do you know each other?’ she was asking Bruno, her chin cupped in one hand and the camisole top gaping to reveal more chest than ever.
In reply, he touched the arrangement of lilac and white freesias in the centre of the table.
‘She brings me flowers.’ Maxine grinned. ‘How romantic.’
‘Come on, pay attention,’ said Janey firmly, thrusting the menu into her free hand. ‘You’re the one who was so hungry. I’m having the seafood risotto and the lamb.’
By the time their food arrived, Maxine was in her element. Having discovered as much about Bruno Parry-Brent in the space of thirty minutes as Janey had learned in a year, she was now regaling him with her own life history. By the time they had moved on to the coffees, she was launching into a bitchy attack on Guy Cassidy.
‘He’s the one paying for this meal tonight,’ Janey pointed out in Guy’s defence.
Maxine looked scornful. ‘Only because he wanted me out of the way.’ Turning back to Bruno, she went on, ‘You wouldn’t believe this girlfriend of his. I didn’t think anyone could treat me worse than Guy, but at least he’s been known to say the odd please and thank you. Serena Charlton’s a living nightmare; I can’t believe what terrible taste in women some men have.’
Janey couldn’t resist it. ‘Maxine’s only saying this because Guy isn’t interested in her,’ she explained. ‘She had visions of moving into Trezale House and dazzling him, and it hasn’t happened. It’s been a great disappointment to her.’
‘Oh, crushing,’ Maxine agreed with a trace of mockery.
‘But her ego, of course, won’t allow her to admit it.’ Janey smiled. Two could play at bitchery. Besides, Maxine
