Secrets (26 page)

Chapter Sixty-Four

‘So have you done the deed yet?’ asked Susie.

‘The
what
?’ Janey feigned ignorance.

‘You heard.’

The two women were seated at the kitchen table in Janey’s parents’ house. Janey had been back in the UK just over a fortnight. From the moment she’d dragged her suitcase through the front door of Orchard House, Susie had been keen to pin Janey down. For the first few days Janey had avoided meeting up with her oldest friend. She hadn’t wanted to share the details of her brand new romance. Janey’s parents had been the first to notice the change in their daughter. She’d waltzed into their kitchen looking more radiant than a bride, despite a ten hour flight, eight hour time adjustment and no sleep. Violet and Derek had instantly exchanged looks.

‘Who is he?’ her father immediately asked.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Janey grinned, just as her phone signalled the arrival of a text.

‘Is that from Mr Mystery Man?’ her mother teased.

‘It’s from a
friend
,’ she replied firmly. Opening the text, but making sure her phone was held away from prying eyes, Janey’s face lit up.

‘Don’t give me that tosh,’ Derek tutted before turning to his wife. ‘I think our daughter has a new beau.’

‘Oh darling, I am
so
pleased for you!’ Violet sat down at the kitchen table and patted the chair next to her. ‘I insist you tell us all about him.’

‘Wouldn’t you rather hear about Canada?’ Janey countered, pulling out a chair and sitting next to her mother.

‘Yes, of course. We’re assuming you met him there. Is this going to be a long-distance love affair?’

‘No!’ Janey laughed. ‘You have the wrong end of the stick.’

‘I don’t believe you.’ Derek looked sceptical. ‘You’re like the cat that discovered double cream instead of skimmed milk. Now come on. Tell all. What’s his name?’

Janey put her hands in the air. A gesture of mock surrender. ‘Promise you won’t be shocked?’ Derek and Violet glanced at each other. A flicker of concern passed between them. ‘It’s all right,’ Janey hastily assured. ‘It’s not some felon locked up on Death Row.’

Violet was the first to recover her composure. ‘I’m very pleased to hear that. So get on with it, darling. Do tell!’

‘All right,’ Janey looked from one parent to the other, eyes shining with both mischief and delight. ‘It’s Nancy Newman.’

There was a stunned silence while her parents absorbed this piece of information.

‘Nancy Newman?’ Derek’s jaw had gone slack.

‘
Darl
ing,’ Violet’s hands fluttered to her mouth. ‘Is this because of your awful experience with Jake?’

‘Sorry?’

‘You know…,’ Violet held out one hand, see-sawing it about to convey wavering, ‘…you’re thinking you might have
turned
.’

‘Eh?’ Janey’s eyes widened.

‘It’s not a problem,’ Derek assured. ‘We’re hardly strangers to the situation. After all, we already have Joe happily co-habiting with Sanjay. If you’ve fallen for a woman, it’s not the end of the world. We just want you to be happy again.’ Derek reached for Janey’s hand and patted it affectionately. ‘We don’t give two hoots about our children’s sexuality.’

‘Although Mrs Jones, Mrs Fosdyke and Mrs Gager will gossip about this for weeks,’ Violet added.

‘Sorry, Mum…Dad. I’m being mean and teasing you. Nancy Newman is not a woman.’

‘Really?’ asked Violet looking slightly relieved. ‘It’s a bit of a strange name for a chap. But then again, if he’s Canadian that might make sense. That part of the world do choose very different… some might say
eccentric
…names.’

Derek nodded in agreement. ‘Absolutely. Marion Morrison was the real name of John Wayne.’

‘Ah yes, the American cowboy,’ Violet smiled wistfully, a sudden faraway look in her eyes.

‘John Wayne was an actor, Mum. Not a cowboy. Nancy Newman is actually the pen name of an international best-selling author.’

‘Do you know, I thought I recognised it,’ Violet said in astonishment. ‘Doesn’t she…I mean he…write hugely successful gushy romances?’

‘Yes,’ Janey nodded. ‘He writes under a female name so as not to jeopardise sales.’

‘Good heavens.’

‘Nancy Newman’s real name is Garth Davis, and I’m very proud to say he is my boyfriend.’

Violet clapped her hands together in delight. ‘I’m so pleased you still like men, darling. I do so want to be a grandmother one day. Not that lesbians can’t have children,’ she added hastily. ‘But it
is
rather a lot of faff finding donors and dealing with a syringe full of–’

‘Thanks, Mum,’ Janey interrupted. ‘I think we all get the picture.’

And now, as Janey glanced across the same kitchen table at Susie, she was determined to keep back a bit of information about who Garth really was. If she confided in her oldest friend, Susie would instantly blab. Mrs Fosdyke, Mrs Gager and Mrs Jones would be banging on the door within minutes, demanding book donations for raffle stalls and free appearances by Garth at every local event.

‘Stop being so infuriating,’ Susie huffed. ‘Spill the beans. What’s he like between the sheets?’

Janey shook her head. ‘I really wouldn’t know.’

‘Don’t give me that,’ Susie scoffed. ‘I read in a magazine that new couples go for it within the first seventy-two hours.’

‘Well your magazine is wrong,’ said Janey. She pushed back her chair and stood up. ‘Do you want another cup of tea?’

‘No,’ said Susie firmly. ‘I want you to sit back down and tell me the truth.’

‘I
am
telling you the truth.’ Janey reached for the kettle. ‘We’re taking it gradually.’

‘Pah!’ said Susie in disgust. ‘Life’s too short to take things slowly.’

Privately Janey agreed. Her mind flipped back to the final night in Vancouver. She’d stood outside her hotel room with Garth. His kiss had turned her insides to mush and reduced her body to a quivering wreck. However, he hadn’t gone into her room, insisting Janey wasn’t ready. But tonight’s rendezvous with Garth would be at his house. She would be completely alone with him, without the safety net of the Canada Companions in the background. As Janey splashed water into the kettle, she suppressed a shiver of excitement. The last conversation with Garth had made it very clear what was on tonight’s agenda. He’d ended their conversation with the words, ‘Don’t forget to pack your toothbrush.’

Chapter Sixty-Five

Janey was sitting in her car, engine idling. In front of her was a pair of towering electric gates. As she’d brought the car to a standstill, she’d nearly stalled the engine. Beyond the elaborate wrought ironwork, a mini mansion stood before her. An East and West wing sandwiched the main house. The entrance looked like part of a scaled down palace. There was even a centre-piece balcony with a froth of flowers looping along the balustrade. Any moment now William and Kate might appear to give a regal wave. Surely down-to-earth Garth didn’t live in a pile like this? Unbuckling her seat belt, she got out of the car and located the intercom. Would a uniformed minion materialise, offering to park her car?

‘Come in.’ Garth’s voice crackled over the squawk box. Moments later, the gates creaked open. As Janey’s car bounced through the opening, she steered towards the main entrance. Where should she park? Over there, by that enormous window? Or perhaps she should follow the driveway to the rear of the house? Presumably there must be garaging somewhere. Certainly there was no sign of Garth’s car at the front. She was just dickering where to go, when Garth rapped on the passenger window making her jump. ‘Leave it here,’ he called through the glass.

At the sight of him, Janey’s heart expanded. At the same time a net full of butterflies took off in her tummy. She buzzed the window down. ‘I can’t leave the car like this – all askew.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because…,’ Janey’s eyebrows knitted together. ‘It’s…it’s messy. Let me straighten up.’

‘Do you often suffer with parking OCD?’ Garth teased. ‘Shall I lend you my protractor so you can be sure your car is exactly one-hundred-and-eighty degrees from the front door and ninety degrees from my rose bushes?’

Janey realised how ridiculous she must sound.
Steady…steady…don’t be nervous. Ignore the massive house reminding you this is a famous international best-selling author’s bachelor pad. This is Garth, right? Garth!
‘Okay,’ she said, clearly flustered. ‘If you don’t mind, I shan’t either.’ She pulled the key from the ignition and opened the driver’s door. As she slipped out and straightened up, Garth’s arms were round her in a flash. He pulled her close, his mouth instantly finding hers.

‘That’s a lovely greeting,’ Janey said breathlessly. She looked up into his ruggedly handsome face and her knees nearly gave way.

‘I’ve missed you,’ Garth murmured. He kissed her on the neck and shivers ran up and down her spine. ‘Come on,’ he said, straightening up. ‘Give me your overnight bag and let’s go inside. I’ve made a nice boozy jug of fruit cup for us. Let’s make the most of the exceptionally mild weather and have it on the terrace.’ Garth slung an arm casually around Janey’s shoulders as they began to walk towards the entrance.

‘You have a fabulous home,’ said Janey shyly. She didn’t want Garth thinking she was overwhelmed by the grand property, even though it was true. Surely it wasn’t naff to pass a compliment about the place?

‘Thanks,’ said Garth. ‘I certainly like it.’

What wasn’t to like
, Janey privately asked herself as Garth led her into a cavernous hallway complete with original flagstone floor. Above their heads was the biggest chandelier she’d ever seen. ‘What fabulous high ceilings!’ she trilled, then inwardly cringed.
Be quiet, Janey. You sound like a gormless idiot. Stop admiring everything so obviously. Just take it in your stride
.

‘Thanks,’ said Garth again. He deposited her bag by a vast sweeping staircase. ‘When I bought this place, the biggest tick for me was having high doorways. I don’t bang my head,’ he smiled ruefully.

Janey laughed and felt herself relaxing.
It’s just a house
, she told herself.
The fact that it’s a smaller version of Balmoral doesn’t stop it being just that – a house
. She followed Garth into a formal drawing room. At the far end an open French door issued onto a patio full of flowering pots. Their perfume hung on the early evening air. As they walked out onto the terrace, Janey noticed a table to one side. It was set with two crystal glasses and a tall jug of dark liquid. The outside of the carafe was beaded in moisture.

‘What a perfect setting.’ Janey sighed happily. She pulled out a chair and sat down.

‘I aim to please,’ Garth smiled. He reached for one of the glasses. ‘I thought we’d sit here for a while. We can drink this, get mildly tight, and then have dinner inside.’

‘You’ve cooked?’

‘Don’t look so surprised,’ Garth said, handing her a glass. It was brimming with chunks of chopped fruit and tiny sprigs of mint. ‘I’ll have you know I’m quite handy in the kitchen.’

‘I like a man in touch with his feminine side,’ Janey teased.

They spent the next hour drinking and chatting before it became noticeably cooler. Janey shivered.

‘Let’s go inside,’ said Garth. He stood up. ‘Bring your drink.’ He led Janey back through the drawing room and inner hall, then through another door and into a kitchen. The centre of the room was dominated by a central island. It was lined with tall stools and overhung with drop lights. The walls were covered in marble splashbacks, the stone seamlessly flowing into what seemed like acres of matching worktop.

‘Blimey,’ Janey couldn’t help saying. The kitchen was a far cry from the likes of the tiny galley she’d had at Rose Cottage, or the outdated pine affair at Orchard House.

‘I hope your admiration is for the aromatic cooking smells,’ Garth arched an eyebrow.

‘Of course,’ Janey said hastily. ‘It smells divine.’ She wasn’t lying either. At that precise moment her stomach let out an almighty rumble. Garth moved over to a huge state-of-the-art range. Donning a pair of oven mitts, he removed an iron-lidded pot from the depths of one oven.

‘Coq au vin,’ he said. He banged the pot down on the centre island.

‘Wow. Impressive!’

‘Not really,’ Garth said modestly. ‘It’s just a glorified casserole. But it’s one of those great little dishes that takes care of itself. It has allowed me to get on with other things – like enjoying the company of my beautiful visitor.’ Janey blushed as Garth removed the lid. He took a step back as a cloud of steam furled upwards. ‘Probably not the best thing to cook on a late summer’s evening, but I couldn’t be bothered to do salad. Too much faff.’ He returned to the oven and removed two enormous jacket potatoes.

‘It all looks scrumptious,’ said Janey. She pulled out a tall stool and perched.

‘No, no, no,’ Garth waved a hand at her. ‘We’re not eating in the kitchen.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘Because the kitchen is for slumming. Tonight I’m pulling out all the stops and romancing you, Miss Richardson.’

‘Oooh, excellent,’ Janey beamed. ‘I love a bit of romance!’

‘Go to the dining room and I’ll be with you shortly.’

‘Okay.’ She hesitated for a moment. ‘Can I do anything to help?’

‘Nope.’ Garth picked up one of the oven mitts and flapped her away. ‘All under control.’ He gave her a little prod in the back before taking himself off to one of the custom-built cupboards. Rootling inside, there came the sound of china against china. Seconds later he had two porcelain dinner plates in his hands. ‘You still here?’ he asked.

‘Um,’ Janey looked around her uncertainly. ‘Where exactly
is
the dining room?’

‘Second door to your left as you exit the kitchen.’

‘Right.’ Janey smoothed down her dress, and set off. As she walked out into the hallway, she realised Garth hadn’t been joking about not bashing his head in this house. The magnificent internal doors had to be eight feet high. She stopped in front of a pair of double doors and pushed them open. A formal room was revealed furnished with an enormous glass and chrome table that seemed to go on and on. At the end closest to her, Garth had set out linen napkins and beautiful silverware. She pulled out a chair and sat down, just as Garth bustled in holding the porcelain plates aloft.

‘Madam,’ he said and set the china down with a little flourish. ‘Oh, damn. I forgot candles.’

‘We don’t need candles,’ Janey protested.

‘But I want it to be romantic,’ Garth insisted.

Janey caught his hand. ‘You’re here,’ she said softly, ‘so it
is
romantic.’

Garth looked delighted. ‘In that case,’ he said, pulling out his own chair, ‘let’s tuck in.’

By the time they’d worked their way through the coq au vin, a bottle of red, a fresh fruit salad, and two fluffy cappuccinos from Garth’s posh coffee machine, night had well and truly fallen. Through the tall picture windows, Janey could see a new moon. The silver slither hung in a black sky dotted by a billion stars. She let out a contented sigh. ‘What a perfect evening.’

‘It’s not over yet,’ said Garth. ‘Come with me.’ He stood up. ‘We’ll leave the plates for now and I’ll give you a guided tour of my humble abode.’ He held out his hand. Janey took it, pushing back her own chair as she did so.

‘Well you’ve seen most of the downstairs,’ said Garth. He led Janey back to the impressive hallway. ‘Kitchen over there. Dining room behind us. Drawing room and terrace over there. This door,’ he paused to push against another set of doubles, ‘is the lounge. Here I doss about and watch telly.’ He picked up a remote control and pressed a button. ‘And if a load of rubbish is on the box – which is often the case – I press this button,’ he nodded at the remote control, ‘and
voil
à
!’ Suddenly electric black-out blinds were slowly whirring over the windows. From a hideaway slot in the ceiling, an enormous screen began to descend. ‘And if I press yet another button,’ Garth held the remote aloft, ‘I can have mood lighting.’

‘What on earth is “mood lighting”?’ Janey raised her eyebrows.

‘It sets the scene,’ Garth explained. ‘Want to watch a nice bit of romance? Then snuggle down on the sofa and let a soft pink light envelope you.’ The room was instantly suffused with a rosy glow. ‘Or a tense thriller?’ Garth pressed another button. In a flash the room was flooded with eerie neon green.

‘That’s amazing,’ Janey laughed.

‘Glad you like it, Madam.’ Garth pressed the remote again. Instantly the cinema screen retracted back into the ceiling, with the blackout blinds folding themselves out of sight.

‘And now…upstairs. This way.’

Janey followed Garth up the sweeping staircase. She viewed room after room. Several were sparsely furnished due to their rarely being used. She exclaimed at Garth’s study. From floor to ceiling the walls were lined with books. It was a reader’s paradise. When Garth showed her Anna’s nursery, Janey found herself holding her breath.

‘It’s very pretty,’ she said quietly.

‘Yeah,’ Garth shrugged. ‘I must do something with it. Maybe give it an update,’ he said lightly. ‘Meanwhile, Madam, if you would care to follow me. I will now show you the last, and best, room in this house.’

‘And why exactly is this room the best?’ she smiled up at Garth as he pushed open yet another set of double doors.

‘Because,’ he said, revealing the area in all its glory, ‘it’s both huge and beautiful. More specifically, it has its own picture-perfect balcony. From there you can gaze upon stunning views of Kentish woodland and undulating fields. It showcases gorgeous sunrises, spectacular sunsets, and skies that mesmerise with a canvas of constant change.’ The bit of scenery Janey could see was enthralling. It drew her, like a magnet, until she was standing by the balcony’s French doors. From her side of the glass, she gazed out at a faraway vista lit by the fairy-light glow of street lamps from the next village. Garth moved up behind her. ‘It’s also,’ he murmured, ‘where I close my eyes and ears on the world.’

Janey turned. As she did so, her gaze fell upon the rest of the room. Instantly, her tummy flipped with fresh nerves. Of course. This was Garth’s bedroom.