there I was saying thank you and thinking what lovely caring people they were.’
‘All these months I’ve known you,’ Guy drawled. ‘And I never figured you for a topless model.’
‘It was almost worse than topless.’ Janey cringed at the memory. ‘I was wearing a really awful old bra held together with a safety pin. Talk about mortifying.’
‘Well you can rattle a tin if you want to, but that wasn’t what I had in mind.’ Leaning against the counter, Guy tapped the photograph with a forefinger. ‘You see, they asked me to come up with the advertising poster for the campaign. With your permission I’d like to use this.’
She stared at him. ‘You’re joking.’
‘Why would I joke? It’s perfect. As you said yourself, you can’t look at this picture and not feel something. With any luck,’ he added with a wink, ‘the public will look at it and feel compelled to donate pots of money.’
At that moment the door to the shop opened behind him. Guy could almost have guessed without turning around that the waft of Paco Rabanne aftershave and accompanying footsteps belonged to Alan Sinclair. Janey had gone two shades pinker and her hand reached automatically to her hair.
But he turned anyway, taking his first look at the man who had caused her such untold grief. He saw what he had expected, too; blond, boyish good looks, an air of laid-back charm, the kind of features typical of a man who knew he stood a greater than average chance of taking risks and getting away with them. The urge to launch right in and tell Alan Sinclair exactly what he thought of him was compelling, but it was a luxury he was unable to allow himself. Thea had tried, and failed spectacularly. For once in her life, he reflected, Maxine had been right.
‘Darling ... I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.’ Janey sounded both pleased and flustered.
‘Guy, this is Alan, my husband. Alan, meet Guy Cassidy ... um, Maxine’s boss.’
Guy was not a vain man. He nevertheless knew from experience that other men, upon meeting him for the first time, instinctively mistrusted him with their own wives or girlfriends.
Even if the women didn’t appear overtly interested – although, he had to admit, they frequently did – the men grew jealous. It was going to be interesting, he decided, to see how Janey’s husband would react.
Alan, however, appeared disappointingly unfazed. There were no gritted teeth behind the cheerful smile as he shook Guy’s hand.
‘Of course,’ he said easily. ‘It’s really nice to meet you, Janey’s told me all about you and your family. I’m also a great admirer of your work.’
‘Thank you.’ The boy had charm, thought Guy. And since he must be almost thirty he wasn’t even a boy; it was simply the impression he gave of being not altogether grown up.
‘Look, darling. Guy dropped by to show me this picture.’ Touching the back of Alan’s wrist in order to regain his attention, Janey pushed the photograph into his hand. ‘He wants to use it for a poster advertising a charity fund- raising campaign. What do you think, isn’t it marvellous?’
Alan studied the print for several seconds, clearly impressed. Finally, flicking back his blond hair, he nodded. ‘It is. Maxine must be over the moon. Fame at last.’
Guy bit his lip. That was always the trouble with deserting your wife, he thought with derision. When you eventually came back you didn’t always recognize her.
‘You idiot,’ giggled Janey. ‘This isn’t Maxine. It’s me.’
‘Oh, right.’ Unperturbed by his mistake, Alan took another look and nodded. Turning to address Guy he said casually, ‘Very flattering. That’s why you’re so in demand as a photographer, of course. It’s all clever stuff.’
Guy barely trusted himself to speak. No wonder Janey was so lacking in self-confidence, he thought bitterly. Between the pair of them, Alan and Bruno had sapped her of every last ounce of the stuff.
‘Flattery doesn’t come into it.’ He had observed Janey’s crestfallen expression. His dark blue eyes glittered as he removed the photograph from Alan Sinclair’s grasp. ‘The picture was there, waiting to be taken. All I did was capture it on film.’
‘Of course,’ Apparently realizing his mistake, Alan shrugged and smiled once more. ‘I’m sorry, ‘I wasn’t implying otherwise. And I think it’ll make a great campaign poster.’
‘I still can’t believe it,’ sighed Janey. ‘This is so exciting.’
‘Not to mention well timed.’ Slipping his arm around her waist, Alan gave her a brief, congratulatory hug. ‘Maybe now we’ll be able to take that holiday after all.’ He turned to look at Guy. ‘How much will she be getting for this?’
Guy stared at him. Janey, whose colour had only just reverted to normal, went bright pink all over again.
‘Alan, it’s for a charity campaign! The idea is to raise money. ‘I wouldn’t be paid!’
‘Oh.’ The disappointment was evident in his voice. This time, when he glanced down at the print, it was without interest. ‘Shame.’
‘I have to go.’ Guy looked at his watch. Janey was embarrassed, which was maybe no bad thing, although if anyone should be ashamed it was her husband. ‘Look, I’m presenting the idea to the organizers this afternoon. When they make their final decision I’ll be in touch.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Alan, when Guy had left the shop. ‘Did I put my foot in it?’
‘Both feet.’ Janey busied herself with a bucket of moss. She had two wreaths to complete before lunch. ‘I can’t believe you said that. God knows what Guy must have thought.’
‘It was a simple enough mistake.’ He looked injured. ‘These models get paid thousands for a couple of hours’ work, don’t they? I was only looking after your interests. Why should you be ripped off, just because you’re a friend?’
‘Well nobody’s being ripped off.’ Shuddering at the memory of the look on Guy’s face, she began packing the damp moss around the wire base of the first wreath. ‘It’s for a children’s charity. Nobody’s getting paid.’
Alan had almost entirely lost interest by now. ‘In that case I can’t imagine why you’re so excited about it. God,
