‘No,’ said Bruno simply. Then his face softened. ‘OK, no more pep talk. Why don’t you just move over here instead?’
When Janey stayed put, he smiled and edged his way slowly towards her instead. ‘Well, if the—‘
‘—mountain won’t come to Mohammed?’ guessed Janey, when he hesitated. ‘That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it? But you thought I’d be offended if you called me a mountain.’
‘Don’t be so silly.’ Bruno slid his arms around her waist. As he pulled her towards him, his mouth brushed her ear. ‘Take it from an expert, sweetheart. You’re not fat. If anyone should be envious of their sister, it’s Maxine.’
It had been so very long since she had last been made love to. It sometimes seemed more like eighteen years than eighteen months and Janey had wondered if she would remember how it was done.
But magically . . . miraculously . . . she was remembering now, and the reality was even more blissful than the memories. Bruno, the self-acknowledged expert, was proving to her that he wasn’t all mouth and no trousers, and she had no complaints at all. She no longer even cared that it was ridiculously late, and that she had to be up early. Just for once, the flowers could wait.
She was having the time of her life and she had no intention of asking him to hurry such delicious proceedings along...
The hammering at the front door downstairs sounded like thunder, making them both jump.
‘What the ... !’ exclaimed Bruno, rolling away from her and cracking his ankle against the leg of the coffee table. ‘Ouch. Bloody hell!’
Janey froze as the hammering started up again. As she scrambled to her feet a loud, authoritative voice from the street below shouted: ‘Open up! Police. This is an emergency.’
‘Oh my God, what is it?’ She stared fearfully at Bruno. Her knees were trembling and all she was wearing was her jewellery.
‘Police. Open up!’ repeated the voice outside.
Running to her bedroom, Janey grabbed her dressing gown and threw it on, fumbling to tie the belt as she made her way downstairs. An emergency could only be a bomb scare or a major gas leak, she thought frantically, her mind whirling as she considered the possibilities. Unless something terrible had happened to Maxine.
As soon as she unlocked the door it crashed open.
‘Surprise!’ yelled Maxine gleefully. Clinging to the arm of one of her companions, who was six and a half feet tall and built like Arnold Schwarzenegger, she ricocheted off the open door and clutched Janey’s shoulder with her free hand.
Before Janey could react, four more men piled through, squeezing themselves into the narrow hallway and chorusing: 'Ello, ‘ello, ‘ello, what ‘ave we ‘ere then?’
‘This wallpaper, Constable,’ barked one of them. ‘Arrest it immediately.’
‘What about the dressing gown, Detective Inspector?’ demanded another.
‘Arrest the wallpaper first, Constable. Charge it with being pink.’
‘Aye, aye, sir. And the dressing gown, sir? What shall I charge that with?’
‘Easy peasy,’ yelled Maxine, by this time almost helpless with laughter. ‘Grievous bodily harm!’
Each of the cricketers was over six feet tall. Janey had never felt so small in her life.
‘OK, very funny,’ she said evenly. ‘Now get out.’
‘Can’t get out, only just got in,’ protested the man she had seen at Berenice’s wedding, the one who was with Maxine. Behind him, his even taller friend was solemnly addressing the wall:
‘... but ‘I have to warn you that anything you do say will be taken down and used in evidence.’
‘Out,’ repeated Janey, her voice firm.
‘In-out-in-out, shake it all about,’ chanted the other two. To her absolute horror they were pushing past her, hokey-cokeying towards the stairs.
‘She said you’d make us a cup of coffee,’ explained Maxine’s cricketer with what he no doubt thought was a beguiling grin. ‘Oh come on, Janey, don’t be cross. We won’t stay long. We aren’t really arresting your wallpaper.’
Frantic with worry that any minute now they were going to come face to face with Bruno –
there wasn’t even room for him to hide in her wardrobe – she wrenched the front door open again and glared at Maxine as ferociously as she knew how.
‘No! You’re all drunk and you aren’t getting any coffee. Now leave.’
Maxine, unperturbed by the lack of welcome, simply giggled. ‘Gosh, Janey, has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful when you’re angry? And we’re not drunk, just ... merry. I’ve told you a million times, don’t exaggerate.’
This was awful. Janey considered bursting into tears to show them she meant it.
But Maxine was on a mission and she wasn’t about to allow an unco-operative elder sister to put her off. ‘One quick coffee,’ she insisted, attempting to prise Janey away from the door.
‘Well, one each would be even better. You see, darling, we felt sorry for you ... no man, no social life ... so we thought we’d come and cheer you up. Now isn’t that a kind gesture?’ She broke off, observing Janey’s stony expression, and pouted. ‘Oh cheer up, Janey. You could at least be a teeny bit grateful.’
Janey would have preferred to be a teeny bit violent. The next moment she swung round in panic. The hokeycokeyers, after several wobbly false starts, had actually made it up the staircase.
