ended up covered in frogspawn. You’d think she would have learned her lesson by now.’
Guy stepped to one side as a man wearing a crash helmet, white silk boxer shorts, a tropical suntan and a pair of water skis made his way past. ‘This party would suit Maxine down to the ground,’ he observed. ‘She could have brought Josh’s new skate-board along and challenged that chap to a race.’
‘She’d certainly enjoy herself.’ Janey wondered where Serena was. ‘Is Maxine at home with the children?’
‘I thought it would be safer,’ Guy replied enigmatically. ‘Bruno invited her, of course, but I told her it was her turn to babysit and for once she didn’t kick up a fuss.’
Surprised and faintly put out because she hadn’t realized Maxine had been invited to the party by Bruno, Janey said, ‘Oh.’
Charlotte, who was gazing with fascination at the water-skiing racing driver, drawled, ‘Do you know, those boxer shorts are completely see-through.’
‘Enthralling.’ Guy returned his attention to Janey. ‘We hadn’t planned to come here ourselves; Charlotte pressganged me into partnering her at a charity dinnerat some castle in Bodmin but it was so Godawful we escaped at half-time.’
‘Between the main course and the sweet.’ Charlotte, gazing fondly up at Guy, slid her hand into his.
‘I didn’t particularly want to come here, either,’ said Guy. ‘Bruno Parry-Brent isn’t one of my favourite people but he knows how to throw a party. And at least the food’s edible.’
Janey raised her eyebrows. ‘Does this mean you’re gatecrashing?’
‘Oh, I was invited too.’ He looked amused. ‘Probably because I’m a good customer and Bruno felt I deserved to be thanked.’
Charlotte, who evidently felt that Guy was spending too much time talking to a rival female, gave his arm a possessive tug. ‘Come on, darling, we’re missing all the fun.’
‘Hooray,’ said Guy. On the dance floor the water-skier had now been joined by a fat man in a bikini with a surfboard under his arm. ‘Why don’t you go and dance with them?’
‘I’ve got a much better idea.’ Charlotte wasn’t about to give in. Her green eyes glittered.
‘Why don’t you come and dance with me?’
‘Oh look, there’s Suzannah.’ Embarrassed and terribly afraid that Guy was only staying because she was on her own and he felt sorry for her, Janey waved at a girl she barely knew.
With a brief smile she said, ‘Do excuse me, I must go and say hello.’
At least Suzannah didn’t mention Bruno. ‘My boyfriend’s buggered off to Ibiza,’ she pouted. ‘Men, honestly. He didn’t even have the nerve to tell me to my face! All ‘I got was a message left on my answering machine saying he’d be back in three weeks. How about you, Janey? Are you seeing anyone at the moment?’
Out of the corner of her eye Janey glimpsed Bruno, murmuring into the ear of yet another blonde.The next moment he was kissing her neck.
‘No,’ she replied firmly. ‘Nobody at all.’
Suzannah, who was also blonde, and whose parents owned the largest yacht in Cornwall, didn’t work. Getting her hair highlighted and zipping around in her open-top jeep evidently occupied all her time.
‘Ah, but it’s all right for you,’ she told Janey. ‘You’re running your own business. At least you’ve got something to take your mind off not having a man.’
‘Of course.’ Janey managed to hide her smile. ‘It’s a great help.’
‘You’re really lucky,’ sighed Suzannah. ‘I sometimes wonder if I should think about getting a little job.’
How about Governor of the Bank of England, thought Janey. But at least she was talking to someone, even if it was only Suzannah. At this moment she couldn’t afford to be choosy.
Feigning interest, she said, ‘What kind of work are you interested in?’
‘God, I don’t know.’ Suzannah flicked back her hair with a tanned arm and half a dozen solid gold bangles jangled in unison. ‘Something easy, I suppose. Like your job.’
Janey tried to envisage Suzannah getting up at five every morning, working flat out for twelve hours a day and settling down at night to do the books. Determinedto keep a straight face even if it killed her, she said, ‘I didn’t realize you were interested in floristry.’
‘Oh, I love flowers.’ To prove her point, Suzannah gestured vaguely in the direction of a frantically gyrating girl whose purple taffeta dress was patterned with enormous yellow daisies.
‘They’re so ... um ... pretty, aren’t they?’ Then, brightening, she added, ‘In fact my boyfriend bought me a big bouquet of flowers for my birthday. And he got them from your shop.’
‘Really?’ Every cloud, thought Janey. Men, incapable of coming up with anything more imaginative for the women in their lives, were what kept her in business. ‘What were they?’
‘Red ones,’ said Suzannah, pleased with herself for having remembered. ‘Roses, I think.
With bits of funny white stuff mixed in.’
‘Cocaine?’
‘What?’
‘Sorry.’ Biting her lip, Janey said, ‘It’s called gypsophila.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘Did the roses last a long time?’ Janey couldn’t help it. She always wanted people to get the very best out of their flowers. ‘If the heads start to droop after the first week you can re-cut the stems and plunge them into boiling water for a few seconds. It works wonders.’
