Chapter Five
Tom finished his second pint and glanced at his watch. “Well, ladies, if you’ll excuse us, us country boys need to hit the sack.”
Jayde pouted prettily. “Already? But it isn’t even ten o’clock yet.”
“Sorry — we have a bunch of girls who are going to want to see us bright and busy in the morning.”
“Oh... of course.” But Jayde hadn’t given up completely. She finished her wine in one swallow and rose to her feet. “We ought to be getting along too. It’s been a long day.”
Tom smiled down at her. “It’s a long drive down from London.”
“Oh, I came on the train.” She giggled. “I don’t drive — I haven’t passed my test yet. I’m such a klutz — I’ve failed it five times.”
Tom laughed as he held the door open for them. “At least it shows you’re persistent.”
The moon was half full, shimmering like silver on the dark sweep of the sea, and the sky was a swathe of black velvet scattered with a million diamonds. Vicky gazed around in delight. She hadn’t been down to the seafront when it was dark before.
The tide was in, the waves lapping right up to the sea wall. The length of the Esplanade was strung with multicoloured lights looped from lamp post to lamp post, their reflection pooling like jewels on the water below. The jangling Wurlitzer music from the amusement arcade on the corner drifted on the warm evening breeze.
“Oh — it’s so pretty!” Jayde exclaimed. “I could stay here for ever.”
“Really?” Tom arched one dark eyebrow. “Not too quiet for you?”
“Oh, no — well, maybe,” she conceded in an uncharacteristic moment of self-awareness. “But it would be a great place to have a holiday home.”
“No doubt.” The sudden chill in his voice reminded Vicky that this was a touchy subject.
Jayde glanced around. “Where’s your car?”
“No car. Why would I drive down when it’s such a short distance, then have the hassle of trying to find a place to park? Come on — the walk’ll do you good.”
“But it’s uphill.”
“All the better.”
And he strode off along the pavement, leaving Jayde little choice but to hurry to catch up with him, tottering on those ridiculous heels.
* * *
Vicky didn’t expect her sister to be out of bed early the next morning, and she was right. She poured herself a bowl of cereal and sat down at the kitchen table to eat it. It was good to have a bit of peace — Jayde could sometimes be pretty tiring.
She hadn’t slept well last night, waking hot and bothered, with the sheets all tangled and a slightly guilty feeling that it was her next-door neighbour who had been the cause of the turmoil in her dreams.
But there was no reason to feel guilty about it, she assured herself — she couldn’t help what happened while she was asleep. So long as she didn’t indulge those stupid fantasies while she was awake. Which she wouldn’t. Definitely not.
With a small sigh she took her empty bowl over to the sink and rinsed it out. She had planned to spend some time today sorting through Molly’s old clothes. She could probably get some of that done before Jayde surfaced.
She had finished emptying the wardrobe in Molly’s bedroom and had made a start on the contents of the big chest of drawers when Jayde strolled in, yawning, still wearing her nightie, her hair unbrushed.
Vicky smiled to herself. “Hi. Do you want some breakfast?”
“Ugh.” Jayde pulled a face. “I never eat breakfast. What are you doing?”
“Just going through Aunt Molly’s things to see what to throw away and what to take to the charity shop.”
“Huh.” Jayde came over and peered at the contents of the drawer. “What a load of fusty old rubbish. You might as well throw it all away.” She picked up a pink cardigan with tiny pearl buttons. “No one’s going to want this old stuff. I’m surprised the moths haven’t got at it.”
“She put rose petals in the drawers. Mmm...” She lifted one of the jumpers to her nose. “It makes them all smell lovely.”
“It’s an old-lady smell. Still, I suppose she was an old lady.” Jayde plumped down on the bed with a sigh. “I’m bored. It’s a lovely day — can’t we go down to the beach?”
“You can if you like — I want to crack on with this, at least until lunchtime. Then I’ll come to the beach with you.”
“Oh, all right,” Jayde conceded sulkily. “I’ll wait.” She flopped back on the bed, her hands behind her head. “That Tom — he’s really boring. All he kept going on about all the way home was his stupid cows.”
Vicky dived into the contents of the drawer to hide her amusement. That had been a very clever tactic on his part to gently deter Jayde’s unsubtle attempts to flirt with him.
She was finding herself actually beginning to like him. No more than that, of course — no matter how attractive he was. Anyway, there was Jeremy.
“Could you pass me a couple of those bin bags?” she asked.
Jayde grunted and rolled off the bed. “Here.”
Vicky took the bags and began to tuck the clothes into them — one lot for the dump, one for the charity shop. Jayde was looking in the other drawers. She pulled open the bottom one, and gasped. “Oh, wow! Look at this.”
The drawer was full of silk and satin lingerie, in soft shades of cream and buttercup yellow, pink and baby-blue, much of it extravagantly trimmed with lace.
“This is fabulous.” Sulks were forgotten. “Whatever was the old duck doing with all this stuff?”
“It must be what she wore when she was young, and she kept it.” Vicky pulled out a full-length wrap, with bell sleeves and a silk sash. It was so soft that it rippled through her hands like water.
“Put it on,” Jayde urged. She had pulled out something for herself — a black satin petticoat with a lace front panel and shoelace straps. “I’m going to try this on.” She danced off to her own bedroom with her trophy.
Vicky shrugged into the wrap and swirled in front of the cheval mirror in the corner. It was so beautiful, a delicate shade of lilac, trimmed with lace. A faint exotic fragrance clung to its folds.
Was this what Aunt Molly had worn for her lover, the poet, the painter? What sort of life had she lived, to have owned such beautiful things? They must have been expensive. The label inside was woven in pink on cream — Fabriqué Elisa Roselli / Paris.
“Ta dah!” Jayde came back in, posing to show off the black petticoat. “What do you think? I could wear this down the club.”
Vicky eyed it doubtfully. “Well . . . I suppose . . .”
“These slip dresses are all the thing. That wrap thing’s gorgeous. Are you going to keep it?”
Vicky turned to gaze at it in the mirror again. “Yes, I think I will.”
“Jeremy will love it.”
Vicky laughed dryly. “I don’t think it would suit him.”
“This is fun.” Jayde dived into the drawer again and pulled out a full-length cream silk nightgown, followed by a scarlet camisole and a lace bra. “Wow — this is amazing! I wonder what else we can find? Have you looked in the attic yet?”
“Not yet.”
Jayde dumped her trophies on the bed and darted out to the landing, and Vicky heard her footsteps on the narrow stairs up to the attic. A couple of thumps — she could only hope she wouldn’t come through the ceiling. Then Jayde’s voice, bubbling with excitement.
“Vicky — come and look at this!”
She slipped off the wrap and hurried up the steep, twisting flight to the attic.
A sharp aroma of dust and old wood attacked her nostrils, making her sneeze. A bare lightbulb swinging from the apex of the roof cast weird shadows over various bits of junk — a couple of broken chairs, a cardboard box of worn-out boots and shoes. And a pair of ancient steamer trunks.
Jayde had opened one of them and was twirling around with a giant feather fan.
“Where did all this come from? It looks like your aunt Molly led a pretty wild life when she was young.” She plunged back into the trunk and pulled out a bundle of strands of beads. “What on earth is this?”
Vicky shook her head, laughing. “Heaven knows!”
They began to carefully untangle the strands. It took several minutes, and when they had finished they weren’t much wiser about what it was.
“These bits look like they would be shoulder straps,” Jayde mused, holding it up. “Then you’ve got a kind of necklace. And then this bit might go round your hips and down over your tush. But there’s nothing over your boobs — it must have been worn with something else.”
Vicky laughed. “I don’t think so. Oh, Aunt Molly — what a girl you were! Haven’t you seen that film, Moulin Rouge? These are the kind of costumes they wore.”
“But that was just a film — not real life.”
“The Moulin Rouge was a real place — is a real place. It’s a nightclub, a cabaret, in Paris. The dancers there wear feathers and these exotic costumes, and some of them are nearly naked. It’s very famous — haven’t you ever heard of it?”
Jayde shrugged. “I might have done. Do you think Molly actually was a dancer there?”
“There or somewhere like it. I know she was born in France — her mother, my great-grandmother, was French. Her name was actually Meline, according to her will. And some of that stuff in the bottom drawer was from Paris.”
“Wow! Let’s see what else is in these trunks.”
Jayde’s boredom was completely forgotten. They spent several happy hours exploring the contents of the trunks, finding the most amazing exotic costumes, giggling as they tried them on and taking photographs of each other on their phones.
It was times like these, all too rare in recent years, that Vicky felt close to her sister again. She had missed that.
They had got to the bottom of the second trunk and she glanced at her watch. “Heavens, it’s almost two o’clock. I’m starving. Shall we get some lunch?”
They decided to go down to Debbie’s café to eat, then spend the rest of the afternoon on the beach. Jayde was persuaded to walk down. “Come on, it’s not far. And it’ll be a nightmare trying to find a parking space.”
“Oh, okay. But I need to borrow your flip-flops. I can’t walk in these sandals.”
* * *
The café was busy, Debbie bustling between the tables and the counter. She greeted Vicky with her shy smile. “Hi!”
“Hi. Jayde, this is Debbie — we used to play on the beach together when we were little. Jayde’s my sister.”
“Lovely to meet you.” Debbie turned her smile to Jayde. “What can I get you?”
“Is that quiche gluten free?”
“Oh... no, the pastry’s made with ordinary flour. The tortilla wraps are gluten free, though.”
“I’ll have one of those, then. And a cappuccino — with fat-free milk.”
Debbie didn’t even blink. “Right. Vicky?”
“I’ll have a couple of the wraps too. And a latte, please. How are you managing?”
“Well, it is busy, as you can see. But I can cope.”
“How’s your mum?”
“A lot better. Itching to come down, even if it’s only to sit at the till.” She hesitated, biting her lip. “There was something I was going to ask you — a favour. But...” She slanted a swift glance at Jayde.
“What is it?” Vicky prompted her.
“It’s just... I’ve got a kiddies’ birthday party here tomorrow. Mum was going to come down and help, but the doctor came this morning and he said she still needs to rest up for a few more days. She’s been arguing about it, but I’m afraid it’ll be too much for her. I was going to ask you... If she knows you’re here she’ll be okay about staying upstairs.”
“I’d be happy to come down and help out for a couple of hours,” Vicky insisted at once. “Of course I would.”
“Are you sure? I mean... with your sister here?”
“No, it’ll be fine. Jayde won’t mind — will you?”
Her sister glanced up from checking her phone. “What’s that?”
“I’ve promised to help Debbie with a party tomorrow.”
“A party?” Jayde’s eyes lit up.
“A kids’ party. Tomorrow afternoon.”
“Oh . . .”
“It’ll only be for a couple of hours, tops. You can spend some time on the beach — you’ll have a great tan by the time you go home.”
“I suppose so.”
Oh dear — grumpy Jayde was back. The phone claimed her attention again, and any possibility of conversation was wiped out. With a small sigh Vicky propped her chin on her hand and contented herself with gazing out at the view.
Far out in the bay a line of small yachts were scudding across the water, their white sails sparkling in the bright sunshine.
Could she find a way to stay here? Maybe once she’d sold Aunt Molly’s cottage and paid off the inheritance tax and the loan for the renovations, she would have enough money left to buy a smaller place — a flat, maybe?
But what would she do for a job? Writing was her dream, but even if she could ever get something published it was unlikely to make much money. And she’d need to support herself in the meantime.
And then there was Jeremy, of course. She felt a small stab of guilt. He was her fiancé, he should be her first consideration, not... an afterthought.
Debbie came over with their food, and with a rather exaggerated show of reluctance Jayde turned off her phone and picked up her napkin to wrap it round her tortilla.
“Thanks, Debbie.” Vicky smiled up at her friend. “These look delicious.”
“Hope you enjoy them.”
More customers had arrived and she hurried away. Vicky took a bite of her tortilla.
“I’ve been thinking about what to do with some of that better stuff of Aunt Molly’s.” Maybe the topic of clothes would engage Jayde’s interest. “Do you think I could sell them online?”
“Some of them.” Her sister shrugged. “It can be a bit time consuming if you want to sell a lot of stuff.”
“Could you help me?”
“Sure.” That was more of a smirk than a smile. “Fifty-fifty.”
Vicky shook her head. “Thirty-seventy.”
“Forty-sixty.”
“Okay.”
Jayde laughed in triumph. “I was going to accept thirty-seventy.”
Vicky laughed with her. She didn’t confess that she’d been going to offer fifty-fifty.
* * *
To Vicky’s relief the good mood lasted through lunch and beyond. They strolled down to the beach, wriggling out of their clothes as discreetly as possible, then stretched out on their towels in their bikinis, slathering each other generously with sunscreen.
“Ah — this is perfect.” Jayde sighed with contentment, lying back and closing her eyes. “Wake me in an hour so I can do my other side.”
Vicky laughed. “Okay.”
She pulled her book from her bag and found her place. But for once even the convoluted murder investigation by Ellis Peters’ medieval monk couldn’t engage her attention. She sat up, hugging her knees and gazing out over the bay.
The yachts had moved on. Now the grey shape of a large ship — a freighter or a cruise ship? — hovered on the horizon. The sky was a pure, clear blue, dusted with a few wisps of cloud like the sweepings of a careless broom.
On the beach, small children were racing around, squealing with joy, splashing in and out of the shallow wavelets at the water’s edge. A couple of Labradors and an excited springer spaniel were chasing each other, barking and yapping and play-fighting.
Suddenly a small brown-and-white terrier came racing up out of the sea. A few yards up the beach he paused and shook himself vigorously, sending sparkling droplets of water in all directions. Then he spotted Vicky and hurtled towards her as if she was his dearest friend, and launched himself into her arms, panting and licking her face.
“Rufus! Get off — you’re soaking me, you horrible animal!”
Jayde screeched and rolled aside, jumping to her feet. “Oh my God — get him off. He’s dangerous. Where’s his owner?”
“I’m sorry.”
Vicky had her eyes screwed tightly shut against the assault of that excited tongue, but she knew Tom’s voice.
“Rufty, here.”
The dog ignored him. Vicky had fallen onto her back and he was standing on her chest, subjecting her face to a thorough wash.
“He’s yours?” Jayde’s tone had undergone a magical transformation as Tom strolled up.
“Yes. I’m sorry — he’s only young, and he can be pretty boisterous, but he isn’t dangerous.”
Vicky had succeeded in wrestling the pup into her arms, laughing as he continued to wriggle wildly.
Tom grinned. “I think he likes you.”
“So it seems. I just wish he wasn’t quite so enthusiastic about it.”
Tom scooped the little dog up — the pup’s allegiance switched instantly as he tried to lick his master’s face instead. “That’s enough, Rufus. You’re going to have to go back on your lead if you can’t behave yourself.”
Vicky had managed to sit up, but the sight of Tom standing there did absolutely nothing to ease the racing beat of her heart. He had been swimming. His dark hair was slicked back but still trying to curl. His body was tanned and glistening wet. A smattering of rough, dark hair covered his hard-muscled chest, and his stomach was washboard lean above the band of his black shorts.
Her mouth felt suddenly dry. This was crazy — she’d never reacted to a man on such a purely physical level before. Not even Jeremy. She could feel her cheeks flushing a heated red, and looked away quickly.
Jayde had recovered her flirtatious manner — apparently the sight of Tom’s hunky body had caused her to forget that she had thought him boring. “Oh, what a cute little dog. Can I stroke him?”
“Of course. Tickle him behind the ear and he’ll be your slave for life.”
She reached out a tentative hand, still ready to snatch it back. “What’s his name?”
“Rufus. Rufty Tufty. Go on,” he urged. “He won’t bite.”
The little dog looked as if that was up for debate, slanting her a suspicious side-eye. She drew back, smiling uncertainly. “Yes, well... I’m not really used to dogs.”
“You’ve never had a dog?”
“No.”
“That’s a shame.” He glanced down at Vicky again. “It looks as if he’s scratched you.” He tucked Rufus under one arm, and reached down to touch her shoulder, where a red weal about two inches long had appeared.
“Oh...” An odd tingle of heat seemed to be spreading from the spot where his finger had brushed over her skin. Had she been in the sun too long? “Yes.”
“I’m sorry — he usually behaves better than that but sometimes he gets a little overexcited. It looks sore.”
“Oh...” Somehow she managed to find her voice. “No, not really.”
“Even so, you’d better put something on it when you get home.” That sounded like genuine concern. “Anyway, I’d better get this mutt on his lead and take him home.” He rubbed his hand affectionately over the little dog’s head. “Be seeing you.”
“Yes . . . um . . . goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Tom,” Jayde put in brightly. “Are you coming down to the pub tonight?”
He shook his head. “Probably not. We’ve a couple of cows due to calf and it’s my turn to keep an eye on them.”
“Oh . . .”
“See you around, then.”
Vicky watched him walk away. Behind her, Jayde sighed. “Mmm — he really is gorgeous.”
“Yes . . .”
Jayde shot her a sharp glance. “You’re engaged.”
Vicky felt that heat in her cheeks again. “That doesn’t mean I can’t look, does it?” She yawned. “I think I’ll have a snooze for a while.”
She lay down on her towel again and closed her eyes, and tried very hard not to see the images that seemed to be engraved on her retinas — of that hard body, with its sculpted muscles and smooth sun-bronzed skin.
She absolutely would not let herself weave any steamy fantasies about him.