Читать книгу From Paris With Love This Christmas - Jules Wake, Jules Wake - Страница 9

The bathroom, with its Victorian styled sink and bath, had a damp used-not-so-long-ago taint to it but there was no sign of Laurie.

Siena’s eager tour of the downstairs of the house had taken precisely eight minutes. She almost checked the walls to make sure she hadn’t missed a secret passageway or a door leading to another wing. Nope. The hallway of the Chateau had more furniture than this whole house.

Where was Laurie though? Siena figured she must have gone out to get some groceries as the fridge was almost bare apart from something called shepherd’s pie, although it didn’t look like any pie she’d ever come across, and a tiny bit of milk in the oddest glass bottle she’d ever seen.

Conscious of the dryness of her mouth, she squeezed past the pine table big enough to seat four, stopping to take a closer look at the cheerful place mats covered in jaunty chickens in reds, yellows and oranges before switching on the enamel red kettle. The cosy country kitchen made you want to stay awhile, sit at the table and chat. It was easy to picture evenings in here, sitting in the spindle-backed chairs, sipping wine at the table with her sister. She sighed. She couldn’t wait to see Laurie. They were going to have so much fun and hopefully she wouldn’t mind her staying a bit longer.

Reaching above into the distressed cream-painted wooden cupboard, she found an assortment of china mugs, each patterned with different flowers. Making herself a cup of tea, she leant against the counter and studied the eclectic collection of china egg cups and pottery jugs which lined the shelves of the wooden dresser on the other side of the room.

Taking her tea, and crossing the terracotta tiled floor which felt cold under her feet, she went through to the tiny, tiny lounge. The whole room was smaller than her dressing room in the Paris apartment but despite that, the cottage style sofa with its floral print purple wisteria trailing across the plump feather-cushioned sofa strewn with perfectly co-ordinated fat cushions in muted colours, was charming. The room even had a proper open cast-iron fireplace with a surround of flower painted ceramic tiles and a clutch of brass fire-tools in a stand beside it. Twists of newspaper piled with coal sat in the grate waiting to be lit. Feeling a little bit like Goldilocks but sure that Laurie wouldn’t mind, she picked up the box of matches from the crowded wooden mantle. There were several framed pictures including one of Laurie and her boyfriend Cam laughing their heads off at something out of the shot and a faded black and white photo of an older man. Siena studied it for a moment and put it back hurriedly.

The flames had caught. Nice going on the fire making front. With a happy sigh, she snuggled down and picked up her magazine, one of a collection she’d bought at Charles de Gaulle. It was hardly a taxing prospect, whiling away the time waiting for Laurie by flicking through the pages of party themed sequinned dresses, shimmering eye shadows and gorgeous clutch bags and listening to the snap and crackle of the fire. She turned another page. So, she’d miss Claude’s Christmas soirée at the Musée d’Orsay. Possibly the best event in Paris and the only thing she’d miss. With a moue of acceptance she shrugged. No matter. She’d have fun with Laurie.

And as if she conjured her up, her mobile phone vibrated into life.

‘Hi Sien … son texted me … picked you up OK.’ Laurie’s Dalek voice snapped in and out of range.

‘I can hardly hear you.’ Siena winced at the plaintive whine in her voice. It sounded so pathetic and needy, not the image she wanted to portray. ‘Are you still in Yorkshire?’

‘Yes. Sorry. Really bad line. At …pital. How’s the room? Do you … Can’t leave N … hospital at least … Don’t worry Jason will—’ The signal died leaving a long buzzing tone.

Her heart bumped a little uncomfortably and she worried at her lip. So who had used the bathroom this morning? And when was she going to get the chance to explain properly to Laurie how long she planned to stay? Laurie probably assumed Siena finally had a free weekend and had taken up the invitation originally extended over two years ago.

She winced. That sounded crap. It was crap. One hundred and four weekends that she’d failed to come and see her sister; she should have managed at least one. She glanced back at her phone, now registering all the missed calls and voicemails. She could go through and delete them but keeping them was like keeping a wasp in a jar. Safely contained and fine as long as it stayed in there.

Nestled in her hand the phone felt like a time bomb ticking.

‘Time to finish up, Ben.’

As if someone had pulled the plug on the power, Ben dropped the hose he was using to wash down the concrete floor and pulled off his beanie hat, stuffing it into his pocket. The hose flailed wildly for a second, hitting Jason’s trousers before Ben managed to get to the tap to switch it off. Jason stared down at the dark wet patch running from crotch to knee. Yup, looked exactly like he’d wet himself. He shook his head and rolled his eyes behind Ben’s back. No point bawling the boy out. He only had himself to blame. By now he should know full well that Ben took everything quite literally.

Jason sighed out loud. The plus point meant you could be incredibly direct, the downside was that you had to be extremely careful what you said.

‘If you wash out the pipes on the bottling line, then you can finish.’ He took a quick look around the small barn area, feeling that familiar sense of pride. The gleaming fermentation tanks, the bottling line and the stores of grain lined up in the old stable area. The high roof of the barn made it a cold, but light and airy environment to work in, one that he had never failed to want to arrive at every morning.

‘Good work today. Now that lot’s bottled, we can start again next week.’

They’d worked like stink today, so hard neither of them had felt the cold of the barn, until he’d got soaked. Now the cold stung and the chill seeped below his layers. They could wrap up for the day. Today’s backbreaking pace had paid off. Back on schedule, all ready to start brewing tomorrow. Ben had managed to fix the miller, so that they could grind down the malt barley and get it together with the water into the mash tun. Brewing was a magical process. It never ceased to amaze him that you could get so many infinite flavours from the simple combination of water and grain

He rolled his stiff neck. A satisfying day, which would be all the better for a long hot shower, an instant meal and bed. All he had to do was finish up in the office, nip over the courtyard to see Will, enjoy a quick post work pint and head home. It was handy having his business partner running the pub next door and of course owning a convenient barn that was perfect for a micro-brewery.

‘Jason, what you having? Busman’s holiday?’ Will slid off the bar stool, lifted the wooden flap and went round to the other side of the bar. Ben was already ensconced comfortably at the bar, halfway down a pint.

‘Corona, please.’

‘Seriously …’ Will rolled his eyes at Ben. ‘Young Ben here is loyal to the cause. Drinking a pint of Chiltern Glory. It’s your money. If you buy a pint of your own, it’s win win.’

Ben raised his glass. ‘Tastes good, boss.’

Jason laughed. ‘Go on then.’ He had just wanted to neck something cold. ‘I’ll have a half.’

‘Ironed out all the problems?’ Will was the perfect business partner, silent when he needed to be and hugely supportive and enthusiastic at all other times. They’d known each other since university when they’d played rugby together but they had more in common than their shared passion for beer. Both of them had lost their fathers in recent years which had strengthened their bond of friendship, although unlike his, Will’s relationship with his father had always been strained, which Will put down to the fact that he suspected they weren’t actually related by blood at all.

‘Yup. One of the tanks sprang a leak but Ben sorted it out.’

‘Pretty handy at welding, aren’t you Ben? You coming tonight?’

‘Yeah.’ His brown eyes lit up with enthusiasm. ‘You get posh totty in wine bars don’t you. They go in for all that malarkey, don’t they?’

Will nodded, veiled amusement in his eyes, like an elder statesmen with a young buck.

Jason rocked his head back. ‘Oh shit, I’d forgotten about that. I’m knackered. I had to go on bloody rescue mission last night for Laurie.’

‘I thought she had a boyfriend for that sort of stuff. Cam’s a lazy bastard’

They both laughed. Cam had been at university with them too and neither of them could quite get over the fact that he’d found his soul mate and settled down.

‘Laurie’s sister decided to pop over for the weekend from Paris. Like you do. No warning or anything. So I had to rush to the frigging airport to collect the spoilt brat.’

‘So where is she now?’

‘I bloody hope on a flight back to where she came from.’

‘That’s alright then. So what time will I see you?’

Jason rubbed the back of his neck. ‘When I get there.’

‘Might be a new customer for the brewery. And I want to check out the competition,’ Will grinned, ‘and Ben wants to check out the hot chicks.’

Leaning back against the front door, Jason kicked off his wet boots on the large square doormat he’d purposely bought to protect Laurie’s carpet and began to peel off his clothes, dropping them onto the floor. He dried out a bit in the pub but invariably he came home dirty and wet, an inescapable aspect of the job. It had become a habit to strip off his outer clothes at the door, less distance to carry them to the washing machine later.

He padded quickly up the stairs, already anticipating the first jet of hot water pouring over his aching shoulders. No doubt about it, showers had to the best invention of the modern world. Along with ice-cold beer drunk straight from the bottle. He’d missed a trick, he should have snagged a bottle before he’d come up.

Thoughts of condensation, dripping bottles and the shock of the cold on his throat were abruptly terminated by an outraged shriek as he took his third step into the room.

Bloody hell fire. Lying completely naked – why wouldn’t she be in a bath – was a vision of rosy tipped nipples, magnolia skin, long legs and a narrow strip of strawberry blonde that declared the owner was a natural blonde. He swallowed hard, unable to take his gaze from her pert high breasts, which she was doing her best to cover by crossing her arms.

‘Get out, get out!’ She flapped her hands at him.

‘Shit, what are you doing in here?’

‘Taking a bath, you espèce d’imbécile? What are you doing?’

Jason tried to avert his gaze to focus on her face. Even at the height of her embarrassment, the flush that outlined her high cheekbones was dainty pink.

‘I was hoping to take a shower.’

‘Turn around. Stop looking.’

He bit his lip and turned around. ‘I was trying.’ Not as hard as he was trying not to snigger now.

‘Try harder,’ she snapped.

He heard a slosh of water and the slide of skin on plastic and a thud as she manoeuvred out of the bath.

When he turned round, she had a towel firmly wrapped around her, toga style.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘What do you mean what am I doing here? What are you still doing here? As Laurie’s not here I thought you’d be on the next plane back.’

There was a silence and all he could see was the crown of her head. It gave him a momentary feeling of victory. Then she tipped her head up, her chin thrust upwards.

‘I thought I’d stay until she comes back.’

She was in for a very long wait then. He sucked in his cheeks trying to bite back a smirk. ‘When did you last speak to her?’

‘This afternoon.’

Jason almost laughed out loud as he caught the reflection in the mirror of her quickly crossing her fingers and slipping them behind her back. With her head tilted slightly to one side, her eyes watching him warily, she reminded him of a defiant teenager, except that there was nothing teenage about her body; she was all woman.

‘Funny that she didn’t mention she’d moved to Yorkshire permanently.’ There didn’t seem much point trying to hide it any more. Siena would realise soon enough that her sister now lived in the house in Yorkshire.

Her eyes clouded and he could see her weighing up what to say next. He wanted to laugh, but something in her face made him aware for the first time of a slight hint of vulnerability. Not as self-possessed as he’d assumed. It made him pause.

‘It was a really bad line,’ she tossed her chin in the air, ‘but it doesn’t answer my question. What are you doing here? You said she’d moved to Yorkshire. So, what? You thought you’d move in?’

She folded her arms, giving him a hard stare before realising it’s pretty difficult to hang on to a towel and fold your arms. The towel slipped, revealing one very erect and perky nipple. Desire shot to his groin. He narrowed his eyes and glared at her, trying to quash the unruly thought that he wanted to reach forwards and touch her naked breast. What the—? Where the hell had that come from? He was in danger of embarrassing himself in his boxers.

Flushed from her bath, her chest rising and falling with fast breaths of indignation, her pink, pink mouth pursed in imperious indignation, she looked very cute. The kind of cute he’d long since given up on. The kind of cute that needed a lot of looking after which, as he’d so disastrously proved, he was not capable of.

‘If you leave now, I won’t report you to the police. I took your registration number down last night, you know.’ The way she lifted her chin, trying to hold his gaze, told him she had a nice line in bravado but was making every word up.

‘The police will find you. I texted my mother. Go now and I won’t tell your company.’

Jason frowned as she carried on talking complete gibberish, taking perverse pleasure in her rising determination to appear in control, which he knew wasn’t very nice of him but he didn’t want to be nice to this girl. He wanted her out of his house.

Two spots of colour burned fiercely on her cheeks, giving her away.

‘Won’t tell them what exactly?’ He leaned his hip against the sink and folded his arms.

What was she on about? He was the company, Will was a silent partner, so there was him, and Ben, but most of the time Ben was away with the fairies. She obviously meant some other company, although he wasn’t sure where that came in.

‘That you’re,’ he could see her struggling to find the word, ‘squatting.’

‘Squatting?’ He spat the word out. No one accused him of not paying his way, especially not these days when money was tight. How many times had he tried to pay Laurie more in rent than the ridiculously low amount she charged? Every time she insisted he was doing her a favour keeping an eye on the house.

‘Yes.’ She shrugged her wide but fine boned shoulders. ‘I bet you used the same key as last night when you let me in.’

‘And how did I get that key?’

Her mouth shut with a tight snap. The silence yawned between them and he left it hanging there, stringing out her uncertainty.

Her mouth firmed in a mutinous line and her eyes narrowed.

His mouth quirked as he imagined the Sergio Leone music from A Fistful of Dollars and a standoff between two cowboys.

She tossed her head. ‘I don’t know but I’d like you to leave.’

‘For the record, sweet cheeks, I live here. And newsflash, I’m having a shower right now.’ He turned his back on her, switched the shower on and pulled his boxers down.

With a startled gasp, she fled from the bathroom and he heard her bedroom door slam.

Jason stomped down the stairs ready to strangle someone. Preferably Siena with one ‘n’. No judge in the land would see him go down. The spoilt brat had used every last drop of hot water. He felt chilled to the bone and three seconds of lukewarm water had almost finished him off. She was still hiding in her room and just as bloody well. Hopefully she was packing her bags, although she could organise a taxi herself to the airport this time.

He stormed over to the fridge about to yank open the door, when he did a double take. Surely not. A plastic container sat on the side by the microwave, ringed with what looked suspiciously like the remnants of a shepherd’s pie. His stomach rolled, the familiar twinge of acid burning. Bugger, he needed a proper meal. Slowly he opened the fridge door. ‘I don’t bloody believe it,’ he yelled and slammed the door shut. Trust fund Barbie had helped herself to his dinner and to add insult to injury had left the plate, cutlery and packaging on the worktop.

Scrap all previous thoughts, he’d happily drive her to the airport, with her fancy pants designer wheelie bag and stuff her and it on the first plane back to Paris. What time was she leaving?

Was it really only this time yesterday, he’d got Laurie’s panicked call? How could he refuse to dash up to Heathrow to pick up her sister, who’d apparently decided upon an impromptu visit? Personally he thought an impromptu visit was bullshit for self-centred and thoughtless visit but hey, what did he know. Laurie sounded thrilled about it, if a little sad that she couldn’t get away. Of course she couldn’t get away, not with a houseful of builders ripping the place apart, Cam away and now poor Norah rushed into hospital. He’d only met the rather elderly Norah and her husband Eric once but if she’d been hospitalised it had to be serious as she was one tough old bird.

He opened the fridge again and grabbed a beer and stared desolately at the empty shelves. After a knackering day working, he did not want to go to the supermarket but it was preferable to another ulcer. With reluctance he put the beer back. Best not down that on his tender empty stomach and then drive. He needed his driving licence. Grabbing his jacket, he tucked his wallet into his pocket and walked into the hall, as Siena came down the stairs.

‘I’ve got a bone to pick with you.’

‘What?’

‘You ate my dinner.’

‘How was I supposed to know it was yours? I thought it had been left by the housekeeper for me.’

He raised one eyebrow in silent sarcasm.

‘Look, there was no one here. I didn’t know you lived here, did I? I thought you were a taxi driver and you didn’t say anything about it last night.’

OK, he now felt slightly bad because he hadn’t done much to disabuse her of that thought.

‘That’s because I thought you would have gone by the time I got back tonight.’

‘I didn’t.’

‘I can see.’ This was becoming slightly farcical and mad as he was about having a cold shower and no supper, his childishness was starting to prick his conscience. This was Laurie’s sister and he owed Laurie big time. She’d helped him out when he was starting up the business. He softened his voice and asked more gently, ‘So what time are you leaving? Do you need me to help organise a taxi to get you to the airport?’

‘That’s OK. I don’t need a taxi.’

‘Right,’ he smiled. ‘Train? You haven’t got a lot of luggage so crossing London shouldn’t be too bad. I can give you a lift to the station in the morning if you like.’ He shrugged into his jacket.

In a gesture that was fast becoming familiar, she lifted her chin. Warrior Princess Barbie. ‘I’m staying for a while.’

His head shot up. That was not part of the plan. He liked living alone. Not being responsible for anyone but himself. It had taken a long time to get here, confident that his mother and sisters were financially secure. As for his ex-girlfriend Stacey, the guilt about her still burned a hole in his stomach.

‘A while? I don’t think so.’

A mutinous line flattened out her mouth. ‘It’s not your house.’

‘But you can’t stay here.’

Up went the chin again. ‘Laurie said I could.’

Jason almost growled. ‘When did she say that?’ It was news to him.

‘It doesn’t matter when she said it, I have a room here.’

‘Yes … but—’

‘I’ll stay out of your way.’

Yeah, right.

‘So how long’s a while? Long weekend?’

She shrugged and he caught her swallow. Not as sure of herself as he’d first thought. ‘What about work?’ Wouldn’t it be nice to just take off for a few days? ‘Won’t they be expecting you?’

She shook her head, amusement lighting up her face. ‘I don’t work.’

‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ he muttered. In spite of himself he had to ask. ‘So what do you do all day if you don’t work?’

She drew herself taller. ‘I do loads of stuff. Go to fashion shows. Meet my friends. Go out to the theatre, exhibitions, shopping. We go to parties. Ski. I’m really busy. All the time.’

‘Nice life if you can get it,’ he observed dryly. ‘Not so much of that going on in Leighton Buzzard, I’m afraid.’ Which guaranteed she’d be bored and on a plane home within the next twenty-four hours.

She gave him a dazzling beam which almost knocked him for six. Christ, she might be bloody annoying but she was one hell of a babe.

‘Thanks Jason. You won’t know I’m here. I promise.’

He had a feeling, he might.

Taking her to the supermarket had seemed a brilliant idea. Ensure she bought her own meal for the night and stop her nicking his. What he hadn’t counted on was how long it took her.

As he stacked a six-pack of Becks in his basket, he looked around. Where had she got to? He was about done. Siena obviously went in for more complicated stuff. He’d left her for dust on the first aisle when she started feeling up peppers. Seriously? He wasn’t a complete philistine, he got the concept of five a day but did you need to check them out so carefully? This was supposed to be a smash and grab raid. Pizza. Beer. Pizza. More beer and a couple of ready-made shepherd’s pies and spag bols. And a shaving gel and deodorant periodically.

Turning back and re-tracing his route, he spotted her at the far end of the aisle in front of the refrigerated cheese cabinet. Her sodding basket empty. She stood there, looking too cute for her own good, attracting some excited second glances from two young guys who had suddenly developed a strong interest in the yoghurt section next to her.

Completely oblivious, Siena picked up different cheeses and read the labels, her head tilted to one side like an enquiring sparrow.

For crying out loud, why hadn’t it occurred to him? She probably couldn’t cook. Wouldn’t have a clue. This had been a complete waste of time. He strode down glaring at the two guys who suddenly decided that maybe yoghurt wasn’t their thing after all.

‘What are you doing?’ He shook his head. ‘Come here,’ he grabbed her elbow and firmly escorted her round the corner into the ready meals section. ‘Do you like pasta?’

‘Wow.’ She turned to him, her eyes wide. She looked like fricking Alice in Wonderland. ‘Look at all this.’ Shaking him off, she wandered along the aisle inspecting the packaging. ‘Four cheese sauce? Cannelloni? Barbecue pork noodles? Beef rib in ale?’ She turned to him, eyes alight with enthusiasm. ‘They’ve got everything. It’s amazing. I didn’t know you could buy it all ready-made like this.’

Jason bit back a retort. Probably never been in a supermarket before in her life.

‘Yeah, who knew?’

‘Gosh, I’ve never seen this before.’ She reached out her hand and picked up a plastic container of bolognese sauce.

He realised that her wonder had turned to amusement. ‘Doesn’t anyone in England know how to cook?’ She raised one eyebrow with a demure smile.

Typical Frog. Always thought they owned cooking. Hadn’t she heard of Jamie Oliver or Gordon Ramsay?

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought her saw her mouth twitch. Was she having a laugh? She certainly looked amused but he wasn’t, far from it.

‘Plenty of people cook, but they might not have time, when they’re working.’ He said it with the emphasis on working. ‘Princess, I am starving. You ate my tea, remember? I want to go home and eat. Right now, I don’t care whether you live on bread and cheese or rice pudding but pick something to eat. I’m leaving.’

OK, so now he was being a complete bastard, but he was bloody starving and absolutely knackered having had less than five hours sleep in the last twenty-four. He was running on empty, and still had this bloody wine bar opening thing to go to, while madam looked as cool as a cucumber and was quite probably laughing at him. It pushed too many buttons. ‘I suggest you get your sweet little arse into gear and get a move on, otherwise I’ll leave you here.’

With a cheeky smile, she looked over her shoulder down at her backside. ‘Do you think so? Thanks.’

He gritted his teeth. Giving into the overwhelming sense of sheer exasperation he made a deep guttural noise in his throat at her and stomped off, the basket swinging painfully into his shins.

‘I growled at her. Physically growled.’ He rested his forehead on the edge of the kitchen table. What the hell had got into him? He prided himself on a bit of sophistication, even if he was now, to all intents and purposes, a manual labourer.

‘And then I felt guilty. So when she asked what I was doing this evening …’

Ben sniggered, snorting out some of the lager he’d swigged from the bottle. ‘Seriously. You growled. At a chick?’

They were sitting in the kitchen waiting for Siena to come down. He knew as soon as he’d uttered the words, ‘You’re welcome to come too,’ which he hadn’t meant at all, that he’d strayed into foolish, downright stupid territory. That’s what lack of sleep and lack of food did to your brain. And now they were still waiting for her to emerge from her room. Yup he really, really regretted opening his mouth.

‘Chick? Her? She’s Barbie to the power of ten. Seriously. It’s like she’s been beamed down from planet airhead.’

‘So how long’s she staying with you?’

‘She’s not staying with me. She came to see her sister. She’s leaving tomorrow. It won’t take long for her to realise Leighton Buzzard can’t match the entertainment of Paris.’

Tonight’s wine bar opening was possibly the most exciting thing that had happened this year. He realised he was pulling faces.

‘Really got under your skin, this one,’ observed Ben.

‘No. She’s just very …’ Jason motioned wringing her neck with his fingers, ‘irritating.’

‘Like that Shakespeare bloke said, you complain too much.’

Jason cocked a very surprised eyebrow. Ben was a great lad and his talents in fixing mechanical faults on the bottling line and washing out pipes couldn’t be faulted but it took all of his literacy skills to manage to read The Sun as far as page three. Quoting the bard seemed rather out of character.

‘The original quote was protest—’

‘Perzactly. You’re protesting, so it means you fancy her really.’

‘How do you figure that?’

‘Mate, you haven’t stopped talking about her since I got here. You don’t even talk about Claire this much and you’re shagging her.’

Jason wasn’t about to correct Ben’s blithe assumptions. He knew he was sleepwalking into a relationship and he ought to nip things in the bud but at least Claire was relatively low maintenance and had her own place. Unfortunately, she seemed very good at engineering things so that from the outside it appeared as if there was more going on than there was. So far it was OK but at some point he was going to have make it clear he wasn’t interested in a long-term relationship.

He wanted a nice easy life. Work, come home, eat, go to the pub. Watch a bit of football at the weekend. And that was the way it was going to stay. He was not going to worry about anyone else’s problems. Siena was Laurie’s problem. Not his. His phone buzzed. A text from Claire. Where are you? We’re here.

Ben’s phone buzzed almost a second later.

‘Mate, she’d better get a move on. There’s free food there. I don’t want to miss out.’

‘I thought you’d eaten. Scrub that.’ Stupid observation. Ben could eat his body weight in carbs and still go back for seconds. Lean and muscled, which came in handy, he used up a lot of energy, with his regular rugby training and playing for the local team every weekend.

‘At la—’ the words died in his throat and he heard Ben mutter, ‘Holy fuck.’

Siena appeared in the doorway, rippling blonde hair, ten foot long sooty lashes, skin tight jeans which accentuated every inch of her legs that seemed to go on forever and a top that, while it wasn’t particularly low cut, certainly made sure you couldn’t miss how perfect her boobs were. Which he knew were perfect because he’d seen them for real, not so very long ago. For a minute he thought he’d swallowed his tongue. Jeez she packed a powerful punch, as did the perfume that filled the air around her. His groin threatened to give him away.

On high, high heels, which added a sashay to her walk, she came into the kitchen, a wide smile showing off perfect, Daz-white teeth that any American cheerleader would be proud to own.

Ben had clearly died and gone to heaven and he hadn’t even seen her naked. There was absolutely nothing subtle about the unabashed admiration shining in his eyes.

‘Siena, this is Ben. He’s an idiot. He works with me.’ Jason gave him a sharp jab in the ribs.

Ignoring him completely, she stepped forward and with what he felt was unconscious charm, politely held out a petite hand, tipped in some dark purpley colour.

‘Hi Ben.’ She smiled up at him and he smiled goofily back.

‘Hi Siena.’ His meaty fingers dwarfed her hand as he shook enthusiastically for at least ten seconds too long. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘And you. What do you with Jason? He hasn’t told me much.’

She shot him an amused look. In the face of her flawless manners, he felt like some uncouth lout.

‘We make beer.’ Ben seemed totally hypnotised like some dopey cartoon character. Man, it was pitiful.

‘Brew beer,’ snapped Jason and then regretted it. Ben might not be the sharpest tool in the box but he was a damn good worker, kind-hearted and mostly harmless. Certainly not someone you’d want getting caught up with the likes of Siena. ‘Right. Shall we go?’

They trooped out of the kitchen, Siena in the lead.

‘Put your tongue away.’ Jason muttered into Ben’s ear. The stupid boy turned around and grinned. Jason shook his head. Oh God, she would chew him up and spit him out as a slight aperitif. Ben was a good-looking lad, and as a local rugby hero had plenty of fans of his own, but he was not rich enough for Siena’s blood. Any man she went out with would have to have a billionaire bank balance; Ben definitely didn’t fall into that category. Neither did Jason, thankfully. But he didn’t want her deciding to amuse herself with someone during her brief stay.

Siena would rather have died than admit to anyone how long it had taken her to step out of the bedroom and go downstairs. When she’d heard the two deep voices downstairs, her nerve had almost failed her. She found Jason’s grumpy disapproval disconcerting. It seemed as if everything she did annoyed him and she had no idea why.

At home she knew everyone, knew what to expect. For the first time in her life she felt horribly out of depth. What if Jason’s friends didn’t like her either? What if they were all like him? She’d only said yes to his invitation to the wine bar because she’d been a bit bored today. At home, she could always go down to the kitchens and chat to Agnes or the other members of staff.

Now as they walked into the wine bar, she could let some of the tension go. What a relief that Ben had been so sweet. At least she could talk to him all night, and this bar was lovely. You could almost imagine you were in London or Paris. She didn’t like to admit it but what she’d seen of the town so far hadn’t lived up to what she’d imagined. Luckily this place was more what she was used to. The décor reminded her of a place in Monaco, although without the presence of Johnny Depp or Cameron Diaz.

‘Jay, over here.’

A tall blond guy with a scrubby ponytail hailed them from the bar and Jason led the way over to a fabulous Perspex bar which sparkled with embedded crystals. Fascinated, Siena reached out to touch it, probably Swarovski.

‘Isn’t it gorge?’ The petite girl who had bounded over to give Ben a big hug and greet Jason with a brief kiss on the cheek, all the while managing to studiously ignore the blond man, grinned at Siena.

‘It’s amazing,’ agreed Siena.

‘The whole place is amazing. Not very Leighton at all. I love it.’

‘Pretentious if you ask me,’ said the blond guy, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the other girl.

No tension there then, thought Siena watching the body language between the two of them.

Around her the group exchanged hellos, hugs and kisses until Ben came to her rescue.

‘Guys, this is Siena.’ Ben put his arm round her and pushed her forward into the group moving away from the bar as he made the announcement. Siena almost giggled, he made it sound as if he’d made some huge discovery. Then as all eyes turned his way, he flushed pink and rattled off a series of names with the speed of a machine gun. ‘Lisa. Claire. Will. Katie. Tom.’

‘Ben!’ admonished the friendly girl. ‘Hi Siena. I’m Lisa. This is Claire.’ She pointed to a girl in black jeans with a blonde bob, ‘Katie.’ Siena quickly registered blue jeans, pink silky shirt. ‘Tom.’ He winked. Clearly Katie’s boyfriend from the way his hand casually rested on her hip.

Lisa’s mouth tightened fractionally. ‘And that’s Will.’ She inclined her head towards the blond guy who had turned to talk to the barman

‘Nice to meet you.’ As she said the words, Siena realised that in Lisa’s case she actually meant them. The bubbly woman, with her sparkling eyes and wide mouth seemed to want to put Siena at her ease without asking or wanting to know anything more.

‘Wow,’ Lisa’s eyes widened as she looked downwards. ‘OMG. If I knew you better I’d be down on my knees kissing those babies. Your boots are awesome. Where did you get them? Oh God, I bet they were really expensive, weren’t they?’

‘Not really. A couple of hundred euros.’ Siena shrugged and smiled. She couldn’t actually remember. At home no one ever asked that sort of question. For a second she had that stepping out on ice feeling, wondering whether it would hold up or if cracks would radiate out from where she stood.

‘Of course, darling. So you bought two pairs,’ drawled Claire.

Siena felt herself blush. She had actually. She particularly liked this pair of Gianvito Rossi two-tone fringed ankle boots, so had bought them in the other colour.

Lisa frowned at Claire. ‘They’re absolutely lush.’

‘Thank you.’ Siena smiled back. Compliments she could handle.

‘Where did you get them, then if you paid euros? Not that I could afford them. They’re so nice.’ Lisa stretched out her hand as if she wanted to touch them.

‘Paris.’ And even saying that had her praying the ice would hold up.

‘Paris.’ Claire rolled her eyes. ‘Gosh, how the other half live. Pop over to buy shoes, do you?’

‘I’d love to go to Paris,’ said Katie hurriedly and then looked at Tom. ‘Not hinting. Definitely not hinting. No need to worry that I’m expecting you to whisk me off for a romantic weekend.’

‘We can go to Paris,’ said Tom with a cheeky grin. ‘Two months’ time when England plays France in the Six Nations.’

‘Ha, ha.’ Katie smiled and Tom pulled her towards him and kissed her neck.

Siena looked away, unused to the display of open, easy, affection.

‘So how do you know Ben?’ asked Lisa with a friendly smile, tossing her tawny blonde hair over her shoulder, her eyes guileless.

‘I don’t really.’ The other girl’s warmth was irresistible. Siena definitely wasn’t in France any more. Normally newbies on the block were circled like prey. Weighed up in whispers as their credentials were checked out. Subjected to a gamut of interrogative conversations full of nuance and ultra-polite queries. Lisa’s uncompromising acceptance made her feel warm and funny inside.

‘I met him tonight.’

‘Quick mover,’ Tom chipped in, nudging Ben. ‘Nice work mate.’

‘She’s with Jason,’ explained Ben shaking his head and mock punching Tom’s arm. He inclined his head towards Jason who had finished talking to Will at the bar and had come to join the group. ‘Staying at his place.’

‘Really?’ The girl called Claire managed to get plenty of loaded inference into the one word.

Jason’s lips tightened into the forbidding expression she was rapidly becoming used to. ‘Siena is my landlady’s sister. She’s here for the weekend.’ He gave Siena a pointed look.

He didn’t need to sound quite so pissed off about it. Good job she hadn’t told him how long she planned to stay. Laurie was bound to be OK with it. When they’d talked before about Siena’s dream of studying fashion design, her sister had been so encouraging.

Will started handing out drinks, obviously ordered before they’d arrived. ‘Look there’s a table over there, with a couple of stools.’ He nodded over the vacant table and the group started to move that way.

‘What do you want to drink?’ asked Jason, including both Siena and Ben in the question.

‘Half a lager, please.’

‘I’ll get mine thanks,’ said Siena reaching into her handbag for her purse and following him to the bar.

‘I can stand you a drink.’ Jason scowled again.

Really, what was his problem? She’d never met anyone quite so grumpy.

‘I wasn’t worried about that.’ She smiled ultra-sweetly at him. What would it take to get him to crack a smile once in a while? ‘But I’d like champagne.’

‘Of course you would.’

She ignored his sarcastic tone. ‘And as they probably only sell it by the bottle, I’ll pay.’

It gave her a childish satisfaction when the barman responded to her before Jason who had waved first. ‘What champagnes do you have?’

After consulting the bar menu, she placed her order and handed over her American Express. Not a great selection, but the Lanson would do. The barman made a great show of filling the ice bucket and removing the foil and wire. With the explosive pop of the cork, he glanced at the machine terminal, his face darkened.

‘Sorry madam, your card’s been declined.’

Siena looked down at the card machine. ‘How annoying. C’est la vie. Try this one.’

She leaned on the Perspex bar, tracing the pattern of crystals. It really was very pretty. If it weren’t for keeping off the radar she would have put a photo on Snapchat to show her friends in Paris, although half of them had probably gone to Cannes this weekend.

‘That’s been declined too.’

‘Are you sure? That’s odd.’ She gave him a what-can-one-do smile. He looked a lot less friendly all of a sudden. ‘Do you want to try again? It’s never happened before.’

‘Did you tell your credit card companies you were popping over to England for the weekend? Maybe that’s why they’re not working,’ suggested Jason.

‘Don’t be silly.’ She patted his arm. ‘I was in New York last month, Whistler two months before that. I don’t need to tell them. I’m always travelling.’

‘To have one declined …’ His lips twitched.

She shot him a withering look.

‘I might be,’ she was going to use the word impetuous but paused, ‘spontaneous,’ that sounded better, ‘but I’m not careless. And yes I have read Oscar Wilde.’

Digging into her bag again, she pulled out her Credit Lyonnais debit card. ‘How about this?’

‘Not an English bank, so do you have your passport?’

How annoying, she’d only taken it out of her handbag five minutes before she left the house, thinking it would be safer left in the bedside drawer.

‘You do realise I’ve opened a seventy quid bottle of fizz that you can’t pay for.’ Goodbye customer service, hello pissed off barman. His earlier smiling obsequiousness had been replaced with sharp-eyed cynical scepticism.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She shrugged and rolled her eyes at him with a half-laugh. ‘Of course I can pay for it. Your card machine can’t be working properly. I’ve travelled all over the world and this has never happened before.’

‘It’s happened now.’

She opened her purse again. ‘Look, I’ve got euros. You can have those.’

The barman’s lip curled. ‘Do I look French? Does this place look like we’re in Spain? Does it say euros accepted here?’ He paused, lifting his chin with a pugnacious sneer. ‘No. It does not.’

He didn’t have to be quite so mean. ‘Look, it’s a genuine mistake. I can afford it, easily.’ For goodness sake, her stepfather owned a vineyard and estate outside Epernay and her monthly allowance would more than cover the cost of several cases of vintage Dom Perignon.

‘Doesn’t look like it from here.’

‘I’ve tried to pay. It’s not my fault nothing is working and you won’t accept euros or my bank card. I really don’t know what you expect me to do.’ Siena kept her tone low and reasonable, trying to ignore the curious glances and open stares being sent her way.

‘Obviously,’ the man’s voice had got much louder, as if he deliberately wanted to humiliate her, ‘I want you to pay up.’ He leaned over the bar towards her, his eyes sparkling with sudden malice. ‘Otherwise it’s going to have to be a police matter.’

Her heart rate rocketed. Her palms were suddenly clammy. She’d never been in this sort of situation before. His angry face reminded her of Yves when he didn’t get his own way.

‘Enough.’ Jason’s voice cut through with strident authority, making her jump. ‘She’s not exactly a hardened criminal and you are being unnecessarily unpleasant. Stick it on this card and while you’re at it, I’ll have a large glass of house red and a pint of Becks.’

The barman frowned and took Jason’s card, shooting Siena a look of disgust.

‘Thank you,’ she said letting out a huge breath, she hadn’t realised that she’d been holding on to. The relief was almost painful. ‘That’s really kind of you. I will pay you back. I promise.

‘I’m sure you will.’ He shook his head. ‘Prick.’

‘I suppose he had some right to be cross.’ Her legs felt slightly shaky.

‘He didn’t have to be such a dick about it or be so horrible. I hate bullies and I hate men that bully women even more. Are you OK?’ He studied her face with a penetrating look and she very nearly said, ‘You wouldn’t like Yves’.

Instead she nodded ducking her head, not wanting him to see her face.

His voiced softened and nearly finished her off. ‘Why don’t you go join the others, send Ben over and we’ll bring the drinks back?’

Giving him a tremulous smile, she did as he suggested.

It wasn’t until she’d almost finished the first glass of fizz, she started to felt more like herself again. Everyone else had loosened up too. The volume in the bar had increased five-fold since they’d arrived and it took considerable effort to wriggle through the crowd to get to the very plush toilets.

‘So Siena,’ Ben came and stood next to her, ‘Jason says you live in France. How come your English is so good?’

‘Because she’s English, you pillock,’ Jason ribbed him.

‘Are you?’

Siena nodded her head, amused by the relationship between them. ‘But I’ve lived in France since I was seven.’

‘What?’ Jason sounded startled. ‘But you’re Laurie’s sister. She grew up here. Went to school here. How does that work? ’

Siena shrugged. She’d rather not air the family laundry in front of an audience.

‘So say something in Frog,’ said Ben, completely oblivious to the nuances of the conversation. ‘It’s a real turn on when women talk foreign.’

Across the other side of the table, Claire rolled her eyes. ‘Only to a cretin.’

Ben ignored her. ‘Go on.’ He bounced in his seat, his enthusiasm infectious.

‘What do you want me to say?’ For some reason she felt self-conscious and Claire’s hostile stare wasn’t helping.

‘Anything. I dunno. Something like voulez-vous couchez maverick moi?’

‘That is French, you numpty.’ Claire’s scathing words spilled out.

‘I think you’ll find it’s avec moi,’ interjected Jason with a reluctant smile.

Siena sneaked a peak at him, it wasn’t the first time he’d taken the sting out of the other girl’s sharp observations.

‘Whatevs.’ With a good natured grin, Ben added, ‘Come on, speak some Froglish. Geddit? Because you’re half and half.’

‘Ben, grow up,’ snapped Claire. ‘You’re so stupid.’

‘Bonjour Ben. C’est un plaisir de vous rencontrer,’ Siena blurted out, wanting to defuse the toxic atmosphere Claire seemed determined to create. Temptation shimmered like a naughty fairy for a second. It would be quite cool if she said in French, ‘stop being a bitch,’ but Siena had a feeling that with his probing looks, which seemed to see right through her, Jason would probably get the gist.

‘Phwoar. Say some more.’ Ben moaned in pretend delight completely oblivious to the other girl’s displeasure. ‘What’s it mean?’

Siena punched him on the shoulder laughing, as Jason shook his head and the others all burst into gales of laughter. Lisa giggled like a loon. Only Claire remained unamused. She tutted.

‘Ça ne veut rien dire en particulier,’ she obliged.

‘So, what are you saying? Something really sexy I bet. It had to be. Maybe I should learn French, pull the birds. I could get one of those lesson things on my iPod. Learn while I’m at work.’

‘Oh God, please don’t,’ said Jason with a heartfelt groan. ‘It’s bad enough when you’re murdering Coldplay with your headphones on.’

‘I could teach you,’ offered Siena.

‘Seriously?’ Ben bounced in his seat like an overenthusiastic puppy. ‘Couple of chat up lines? That would be so cool.’

‘She’s not going to be here long enough,’ said Jason.

‘No,’ said Claire with a derisory snort. ‘Besides she’d be in her eighties before you picked it up.’

Ben’s face crumpled for one swift second before a cheerful mask slid into place as he said to Jason, ‘So boss, what’s the plan for Monday?’

Embarrassed for him, Siena pulled out her phone on the pretext of checking it for messages. Scanning it quickly she stuffed it back into her handbag as a fresh conversation started up. More missed calls, all from the same two numbers. She couldn’t bring herself to even text them, knowing it would unleash a flurry of communication. Normally her iPhone never left her side but lately she wanted to bury it at the bottom of her bag. She couldn’t visit Facebook, go on Twitter, post on Snapchat or Periscope. Everyone was asking where she was, with some impertinent acquaintances drawing their own conclusions. No she wasn’t in Switzerland having a secret abortion nor on an exotic island in the Pacific with a well-known tennis pro and most definitely not in hiding after a botched eyelift.

Lisa let out a squeal. ‘And you’ve got a Prada handbag and purse. They must have been a gazillion euros.’ She reached out and touched them with reverence. ‘I bid on a Prada purse on eBay. Nearly got it for forty quid and then some bitch pipped me at the last second.’

‘Don’t you hate it when that happens?’ said Katie.

The conversation focused on eBay. Siena kept quiet, not wanting to volunteer that she’d never been on eBay in her life.