like. All you have to remember is that if I ever find out you’ve been unfaithful to me, it’s over.’ With her index finger, she drew a swift, clean line across his throat. ‘Finito. Kaput. Down the pan.’
Bruno kissed her. ‘I love you.’
‘Hmm.’ People were staring, but Maxine didn’t care. ‘Just as well. We’re going to be gossiped about from here to Land’s End.’
He picked up one of the sets of keys and dangled them in front of her. ‘In that case, let’s really give them something to gossip about. Here, take them. Don showed me round a few properties this morning. I’m now the proud tenant of Mole Cottage.’
‘You don’t waste much time,’ said Maxine admiringly. ‘Is it nice?’
‘Nice?’ Bruno launched into brochure-speak. ‘Mole Cottage is an eminently desirable seventeenth-century residence complete with stunning sea view, two charming bedrooms, spacious shower and delightful beamed ceilings throughout. The living room’s actually smaller than the shower cubicle, the wallpaper is unspeakable and the garden’s buried beneath six feet of weeds,’ he added with a rueful shrug, ‘but if we can ignore the decor we’ll survive. At least it was dirt cheap.’
Maxine took the keys. ‘I suppose these are the modern-day equivalent of a diamond ring.’
‘You’ve done the diamond-ring bit before. You can’t keep getting engaged; it’s tacky.’
Bruno grinned. ‘Besides, I’m nouveau pauvre. As from today, a key-ring’s about as much as I can afford.’
It was Maxine’s turn to kiss him. ‘I don’t care. When are you going to move in?’
‘As soon as you finish your drink. My suitcases are in the car.’
She experienced another spasm of guilt. ‘How was Nina?’
‘Fine.’ Bruno drained his glass. ‘Absolutely fine. She even helped me pack.’
Frowning slightly, Maxine twisted the stem of her glass between her fingers. ‘Wasn’t she even a little bit upset?’
‘No.’ He had privately come to the conclusion that Nina felt he was in the grip of a wild passion which would be out of his system by Christmas. It wouldn’t, of course, but it had certainly made leaving a whole lot easier. ‘She takes things in her stride. There’s only one major drawback to my leaving, as far as Nina’s concerned.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘Bruno’s Restaurant.’ He pulled a face. ‘She spoke to the new chef this morning and he says if he’s going to take full charge, it should be named after him.’
Maxine, who had only briefly glimpsed the thin, carroty-haired individual with the bobbing Adam’s apple and alarmingly pointed ears, said, ‘I can’t remember what he’s called.’
Bruno broke into a grin. ‘Wayne.’
‘I’m late, I’m sorry.’ Alan, bursting through the door at ten past one, gave Janey an enormous, conciliatory hug. ‘I lost all track of time. All the old crowd were there; you can’t imagine how much catching up we had to do.’
And you can’t imagine how terribly afraid I’ve been, thought Janey, willing herself to stay calm. Punctuality had never been one of Alan’s strong points, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t suffered agonies of uncertainty as each minute had ticked by. She wondered if she would ever truly he able to relax and overcome the fear that each time he left the house she might never see him again.
But that was something she was just going to have to come to terms with, she told herself firmly. Shrieking like a fishwife wouldn’t solve anything, and whingeing on about how worried she’d been would only burden him with guilt.
‘Don’t worry, I expected you to be late.’ With a casual gesture, she wiped her damp palms on her jeans. ‘They’re your friends; you must have had lots to talk about.’
‘It was still thoughtless of me.’ He stroked her blond, just-washed hair. ‘But you really don’t have to worry, sweetheart. I’m not going to disappear into thin air again. This time I’m here for good.’
She smiled. ‘Good.’
‘And to make up for being late home, I’m cooking lunch.’ He began to roll up the sleeves of his denim shirt in businesslike fashion. ‘You can put your feet up and relax. I’ll do everything myself.’
Janey started to laugh, because the smell of lamb roasting in the oven permeated the entire flat. ‘It’s all done,’ she said, recalling how often in the past they had gone through this routine.
True to form, Alan looked appalled. ‘All of it? Roast potatoes, onion sauce, all the vegetables?’
She nodded, brown eyes sparkling. ‘Afraid so.’
‘Oh well, in that case ...’ Alan took her hand and pulled her gently in the direction of the bedroom ‘.. . maybe we should both put our feet up.’
Janey raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘And relax?’
‘Hmm.’ Sliding his arm around her waist beneath the fleecy lilac sweatshirt she wore, he edged towards the zip on her jeans. ‘Maybe we’ll leave the relaxing until later ...’
‘Oh shit.’ With a groan, Janey ducked away from the window. ‘I don’t believe it. Oh hell!’
‘Who is it?’ Alan demanded irritably, as she wriggled across the bed and made a grab for her yellow-and-white towelling robe. Whoever it was, they certainly had a lethal sense of timing.
‘Quick, get some clothes on,’ hissed Janey. ‘It’s my mother.’
Thea Vaughan was proud of the way she had brought up her children, teaching them to be independent from an early age, allowing them to make their own decisions and never saying ‘I told you so’ when those decisions turned out to be mistakes. But enough was enough. This time, Janey had gone too far. And no mother, she felt, could be expected to sit back and watch her daughter make a mistake quite as monumental as the one Janey was making now.
‘Mum.’ Flushed and dishevelled, Janey opened the front door. ‘What a surprise! You usually
