London. I think a summer by the sea would do me the world of good.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Oh come on, Janey. Don’t look at me like that! It’ll be fun; we can cheer each other up.’
Having consulted the notes on her clipboard, Janey began sorting out the flowers for the wreaths. ‘You’ll be too busy complaining about your back to have any fun,’ she said brusquely.
‘And having to listen to your endless whingeing is hardly going to cheer me up.’
‘You don’t want me to stay?’ Maxine looked hurt and Janey experienced a twinge of guilt.
‘I do,’ she protested as the shop door swung open and Paula, having completed the morning’s deliveries, dropped the keys to the van on the counter. ‘Of course I’d like you to stay.
It’s just that the flat’s so small, and I don’t have a spare bedroom.’
‘I see.’ Maxine shrugged ‘Well, that’s OK. I’ll go and see Mum.’
Janey looked doubtful. Their mother would only complain that nothing cramped one’s style more effectively than a stray daughter hanging around the place. And Thea Vaughan’s highly individual lifestyle didn’t take kindly to cramping. She wasn’t exactly the slippers-and-home-made-sponge-cake type.
But Maxine knew that as well as she did, so Janey didn’t bother to voice these thoughts.
Instead, she said, ‘And you’d need some kind of job.’
‘Oh God.’ Maxine was looking gloomier by the second. Working had never been one of her strong points. ‘I suppose I would. But what on earth can I do?’
Paula, who was a lot more thoughtful than Maxine, returned from the kitchen with two mugs of tea.
‘Paula, this is my sister Maxine,’ said Janey, seizing one of the mugs with relief. ‘Now, take a good look at her and tell me what kind of work she might be able to cope with.’
Maxine, perched on the stool next to the counter with her long brown legs stretched out before her, gave the young girl an encouraging smile. But nothing fazed Paula.
‘Here in Trezale, you mean?’ As requested, she studied Maxine for several seconds. ‘Well, selling your body’s out for a start. Too many giggling girlies on the beach at this time of year, giving it away for free.’
Maxine burst out laughing. ‘That’s too bad.’
‘Seriously,’ protested Janey, weaving fronds of fern into the circular mesh base of the first wreath.
‘Bar work?’
‘Ugh.’ Maxine cringed, rejecting the idea at once. ‘Too hard on the feet.’
‘Hotel receptionist?’ suggested Paula, unperturbed. ‘The Abbey’s advertising in the paper this week.’
But Maxine shook her head. ‘I’d have to be polite to ghastly tourists.’
Nannying.’ Paula looked pleased with herself. ‘The family my mother cleans for is losing theirs. You could be a nanny.’
Maxine looked amused. ‘Oh no I couldn’t.’
But Janey’s interest was aroused by this item of news. ‘That’s an idea!’ she exclaimed, temporarily abandoning the wreath. ‘You’d be able to live in. That way, you’d have a job and a place to stay. Max, it’d be great!’
‘Apart from one small problem,’ replied Maxine flatly. ‘If there’s one thing I hate more than tourists, it’s children. Children and babies and nappies. Yuk!’ she added with a shudder of revulsion. ‘Especially nappies.’
‘These two are a bit old for nappies,’ said Paula, ever practical. ‘Josh is nine and Ella’s seven. I’ve met them a few times. They’re nice kids.’
‘And they’d be at school during the day,’ put in Janey, her tone encouraging.
But Maxine, sensing that she was being ganged up on, pulled a face. ‘I’m just not the nannyish type. ‘I mean, for heaven’s sake, do I look like Julie Andrews?’
Losing patience, Janey returned her attention to work. ‘OK, you’ve made your point. You probably wouldn’t have got the job anyway,’ she added, unable to resist the dig. ‘Most people prefer trained nannies and there’d be enough of those queuing up when they realize who they’ll be working for.’
Needled by the insult, Maxine’s brown eyes glittered. ‘Why, who is it?’ she demanded, ready to find fault with any prospective employer who wouldn’t choose her.
‘Guy Cassidy.’ Janey shook droplets of water from the stems of a handful of yellow freesias. ‘He moved into Trezale House just over a year ago. He’s a ‘
‘Photographer!’ squealed Maxine, looking as if she was about to topple off her stool. ‘Guy Cassidy,’ she repeated faintly. ‘The Guy Cassidy? Janey, are you having me on?’
Bingo, thought Janey, exchanging glances with Paula and hiding her smile.
‘Of course not.’ She looked affronted. ‘Why ever should I? And what difference does it make anyway? You hate kids. You just said so, yourself.’
‘What difference does it make?’ echoed Maxine, her eyebrows arching in disbelief. ‘Janey, are you quite mad? It makes all the difference in the world. That man is gorgeous ...’
Chapter 3
‘God, this is hard work,’ complained Guy, crumpling up yet another sheet of paper and lobbing it in the general direction of the wastepaper basket at the side of the bed. Fixing his son and daughter with a stern expression, he added, ‘And it’s too early in the day for this kind of thing. ‘I don’t know why you two can’t write your own advert, anyway.’
Ella, squirming at his side, nudged his arm. ‘Daddy, I can’t spell!’
