A Jersey Kiss (Jersey Romance Series) (9 page)

“
He’s a gambler?” Shani widened her eyes.

“
That’s what I heard.” Paul’s eyes glistened as he turned to Bea. “So whether or not the wife is a problem, you don’t need to get involved with someone who is addicted to losing money.”

“
You know,” Bea said shaking her head wearily, “sometimes living on an island can get really tiresome. You know you shouldn’t listen to rumours about people, they’re usually untrue.”

She turned to Mel.
“How are things coming along with Grant and your wedding plans?”

“
Oh all right, I suppose,” she muffled, in between taking mouthfuls of another croissant. Bea couldn’t understand how Mel remained slim, as she never seemed to stop eating, and certainly didn’t ever exercise.

“
Only all right?” asked Shani grimacing at Mel eating. “Aren’t you ever full?”

“
You must have bought the entire newsagent’s wedding magazines, and I know for a fact you’ve been on the internet scanning wedding planner’s websites for ideas,” Paul winked at her.

“
I only asked you to check out one woman for me, Paul, and that was supposed to be in confidence.” Mel sighed. “I’ve been scanning the glossy magazines too; I need all the help I can get.” She put down her cup and studied her immaculate manicure with satisfaction. “You know, I only agreed with Mum to hold the wedding in May, because I was certain we would easily manage to plan everything in that time, but it’s not as simple as I thought it’d be.”

Shani and Paul glanced at Bea, but she wasn’t in the mood to row with her sister, not today. It was exactly four months since Aunt Annabel had died and eight months and one day until she had to find Simon’s money. It seemed like forever ago that she had kissed her aunt’s forehead that last time,
the tenth of May was coming around a little too quickly for her liking.

Shani motioned for Bea to say something first. She shook her head. Shani glared at her with her best schoolmistress look then turned her attentions to Mel.
“You know you only have to ask and we’ll help you in whatever way we can, don’t you?”

Bea stifled a groan; the thought of having to spend more time with her stepmother with wedding plans was almost more than she could contemplate.
“Yes, of course,” she said, relenting with as much good spirit as she could muster.

A smile slid across Mel’s mouth.
“Really? I wasn’t sure you’d want to still help me now that you know when we want to have the wedding. Thanks. Obviously I’ll need to pass everything by my mum first, but then I’ll let you all know what you can do for me.”

Paul widened his eyes at Bea. She tried not to smile at him, aware she’d been cornered into helping too. He hurriedly snatched his napkin from his lap and held it up to his mouth to try and stop his giggling from being heard.

Despite being surrounded by her closest friends, Bea suddenly felt very much alone. She stared out of the French doors and decided it was time to be alone.

Mel glared at Paul, nudging him hard.

“Ouch. That hurt,” he whined, still laughing, but now frowning in pain at the same time.

“
Good. My wedding is no joke,” she pouted. She looked at Bea. “I know we have our differences, but you’ll only have to deal with this wedding and then you won’t have to cope with my mum’s desperation to make sure I’m seen as number one daughter in Dad’s eyes.”

Bea’s eyes widened.
“I didn’t realise you were so aware of what she does.”

“
Yeah,” Paul said. “We all thought you were a bit switched off where your mother’s game-playing was concerned.”

Slamming her hands, palm first, onto the pine table, Mel glared at Paul.
“I don’t want you to bother if you’re only getting involved so you can take the mickey out of me and Mum at every opportunity. It is my wedding, Paul, despite your loyalties to Bea and her obvious annoyance about the date, but this is something that will have to last me forever. Bea has a right to insult my mum, you don’t.”

“
Mel,” Shani snapped. “He didn’t mean to be horrible about Joyce, but I don’t think you see the full extent of how badly she treats Bea.”

Bea stood up.
“That’s enough. I’m a big girl now, Shani, thanks. I don’t need anyone looking after me and I’m perfectly capable of standing up to Joyce, if I feel the need to do so.” She turned her attention to Mel. “We’re happy to help you plan the wedding. I don’t like the idea that it’s going to be on Liberation Day, but you were aware of that when you set the date. I’m more concerned about the crap Dad will be coping with, and if I can make it any easier for him, I will.”

Mel didn’t reply for a moment. Bea waited for her to speak.
“Fine. Not exactly the enthusiasm I was hoping for from my own sister, Bea, but it’s better than nothing. You’re probably a little down now that your relationship with Tom has gone down the pan.”

“
It was hardly a relationship,” Bea said, standing up and collecting their cups. “Listen you lot, I’ve got a lot to catch up with here, if I ever want a weekend out of this house again.”

Mel picked up her bag, and slung it over her shoulder,
“I’ve got a wedding to plan,” Mel said pointedly.

“
I was hoping to chill out here for a bit,” Paul moaned.

“
You can, if you pick up a paintbrush and do something useful.”

Shani grabbed at her car keys.
“I would, but I need to get off. I’ve got to try and pin Harry down.”

“
Everything all right?” Bea touched Shani’s tanned arm lightly “You’re looking a little peaky. You’re probably overdoing it at that gym.”

“
Hah, I don’t think so,” Paul laughed. “She’s been signed off all week.”

Bea raised her eyebrows and stood in front of Shani.
“Why? You never said you’d been unwell. What’s the matter?”

“
Thanks, Paul,” Shani snapped before looking at Bea. “I’m fine. It was just a stomach bug, nothing more.”

“
You let me know if you need anything,” Bea said. “I know I’m probably caught up with all my problems at the moment, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know everything that’s going on with you. We should catch up sometime, just the two of us.”

“
That would be nice,” Shani said, hugging her quickly and following Paul out of the room.

EIGHT

October - Budding Romance

Bea ran up to her room, and changed back into her old tracksuit.
“Come along lazybones,” she called to Flea, who was snoring soundly in his basket. With a slight groan he stretched, and eventually followed her downstairs.

“
Smell that?” she said. “That's the scent of the end of summer.” She picked a reddening leaf from a nearby acer. “Such beautiful colours.” She gazed at the acre of green expanse before her and sighed. “I'd better get a move on and mow this otherwise it's going to be even more of a jungle out there.” She was grateful for Tom’s recent help in keeping the lawn mown and remembered teasing Simon about his determination to mow the lawn every week during previous summers, insisting he didn't dare let it get out of control. Now she appreciated what he had meant.

Unable to face the mowing at that particular moment, Bea went into the kitchen and after flicking through several dog-eared recipe books, found Aunt Annabel’s hand-written note showing her how to make a batch of lemonade. She told herself she wasn’t putting off the mowing, simply preparing a thirst-quenching drink for when she’d completed the arduous task. That done, she placed the jug of lemonade carefully into her fridge and went back outside.

“It’s not going to cut itself,” she groaned, aware she couldn’t justify paying someone for a task she was perfectly capable of carrying out herself. “No time like the present, I suppose,” she told Flea, breaking into a jog towards the old brick stables at the back of the house where she kept the mower, as well as all the decorating paraphernalia, before she could think of a reason to change her mind.

Maybe her aunt had hidden her mysterious item out here somewhere? She stood on the concrete floor staring up at the rafters and trying to think of any hiding places there could be in this place that she could have missed. After a brief and unsuccessful search that only uncovered an ancient chest containing moth-eaten books, she decided to give up looking for the day.

The mower was sitting exactly where Tom had left it three weeks before. Bea stood and stared at it for a moment, hands on hips as she contemplated asking him to come around and do it for her once again, but since the incident with Vanessa she’d done her best to be as friendly to him as possible in a professional capacity only. After all, they did still have to work together and there was no point in giving him the wrong impression that she may want something more from him, even if it was to help mow the lawn.

Bea filled the dusty, red tank with fuel from the can nearby, hoping she wasn’t doing the wrong thing, spilling a few dribbles of petrol onto her hand.
“Sod it.” Bea shook her hand to get the majority off and walked back into the kitchen to wash her hand. As she replaced the towel back on the rail, she spotted a piece of folded paper on the floor and bent to pick it up. It was Luke’s latest invoice with a note pointing out extra plastering that he’d noticed needing replacing in the back bedroom. It must have fallen onto the floor when she’d opened the door letting in a draught. She dialled his number.

“
Sorry, I only saw your note last night and it was too late to give you a ring.”

“
About the plasterwork?”

“
Yes,” she said thinking how sexy his deep voice sounded on the phone. “I know you’re coming to the end of the work now and to be honest I can’t afford to do much more work, in fact I’m going to have to…” Bea held the phone away from her ear. Was that voices outside in her driveway? “Simon?” she whispered before realising Luke was calling her name. “Sorry, I was distracted for a minute.”

“
Is everything all right?”

Bea sighed.
“Yes, I…” It was bloody Simon. What the hell was he doing at her house, again? She ran over to the French doors and pushed them open wider. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing? Get off my property now.”

Simon carried on talking to someone she didn’t recognise.

“Bea?” Luke shouted concern obvious in his voice.

“
Sorry, Luke, I’ve got to go.” She ended the call before he was able to answer, furious with Simon.

“
And this is my ex-wife,” Simon smiled as if he’d just introduced her as a tiresome teenager.

“
Yes, and this is my house,” she said holding her hand out to the man in a bespoke grey suit. “And you are?”

“
I’m the estate agent your, er, ex-husband contacted for a valuation on this property.” He glanced down at his black leather clipboard and then smiled awkwardly at her.

Bea raised her eyebrows and stared at Simon.
“Why?”

Simon sighed.
“Beatrice, we both know the bank will send someone to value this place in your favour. I’m not an idiot, I remember your aunt talking about Mr Peters, the bank manager who she dealt with for the last two hundred years, or whatever. I’m bringing in someone to make sure I don’t get cheated out of my share.”

“
You shit. If Mr Peters was so easily influenced I would have raised the money to buy you out by now.”

Simon’s triumphant expression made Bea grit her teeth in irritation.
“So you have been trying to sort out our little problem then?”

Bea glared at him.

“Good to know. D-Day will soon be upon us. Only seven months now.” He looked around the garden. “However, I’m perfectly entitled to bring in an independent valuer and that’s what I’ve done. So, if you don’t mind finding something else to do, we’ll get on.”

“
No, you don’t.” Bea grabbed Simon’s arm. “You can come inside,” she said to the estate agent who stepped from foot to foot as he pretended to be intrigued by her herb garden. “You, Simon, can bloody well wait out here.”

“
This way.” She led him into her kitchen trying to remember that it wasn’t the poor agent’s fault Simon had involved him in their problem.

“
Don’t worry; I’ll only be a few minutes.” He forced a smile, making Bea feel slightly guilty at dragging him inside so hurriedly.

“
See?” Simon said tapping his watch at her ten minutes later. “That didn’t take too long, now did it?”

Bea turned her back on them and began walking back towards the stables, stopping abruptly when she heard another vehicle coming down her driveway.

“Oh God, here comes the cavalry,” Simon sneered, shaking his head as he pointed at Luke. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Bye, Bea, see you in court.”

She frowned and turned to see Luke striding across the gravel towards her.
“Are you okay?” he asked, ignoring Simon’s pained expression as he passed and focusing on her.

Bea’s stomach flipped over. He seemed so concerned for her.
“I’m fine, thanks, just another confrontation with my adorable ex-husband.”

“
What the hell did you ever see in that man?” Luke said in the direction of Simon’s disappearing car.

Bea shrugged.
“He’s very handsome and believe it or not, can be great fun.”

“
Hmm, maybe he’s changed a lot.” He smiled.

Bea laughed.
“Or maybe I’ve woken up and can now see the real Simon that was well hidden for so long. Would you like a drink, or something?”

“
No.” He shook his head, his untidy curls settling in a way that made Bea want to push her fingers into them. “You cut our call so abruptly, I didn’t know what had happened and wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“
That’s kind, thank you, but I’m fine now he’s gone.”

Luke looked at her for a few seconds.
“While I’m here, I just want to check on something the men mentioned to me about the hallway,” he said, before walking to the back door and into the house.

Bea smiled to herself as she returned to the mower and pushed the heavy machine around the side of the house, across the gravel driveway and onto the lawn.

Red in the face at the exertion, she thought back to Simon telling her how to start it. Pushing forward the bar and holding up the handle, she leant forward, grabbed the handle and gave it a strong tug. Nothing. Bea breathed in, took hold of it once more, and bracing herself, pulled as quickly and as hard as she could. Again, nothing happened.

“
Balls,” she yelled in frustrated rage. Several attempts, and two broken fingernails later, she couldn’t understand how anyone could manage to hold up the brake bar, while at the same time being able to lean forward to yank the end of the rope with enough energy to make the machine burst into life. It was simply impossible. Or, she decided, probably broken.

Bea kicked the mower, achieving nothing more than the satisfaction of inflicting a dent onto its rusting bodywork, and was battling with herself whether or not to find a hammer to sma
sh the useless creation to bits.

“
Having problems?” Luke asked as he ambled over towards her, his long, jean-clad legs making short work of the distance.

Bea could feel her face reddening; so much for independence.
“This bloody thing doesn’t work,” she stammered, fully aware the exertion had left her unattractively puce in the face.

He grinned at her.
“Let me have a try.” Luke raked a hand through his messy, wayward hair and stepped over to the mower.

Bea pushed her hands into her pockets and waited to see if he had any better luck with the useless machine.

Luke roughly rolled up the sleeves of his denim shirt, revealing tanned, muscular forearms and started the mower on his first attempt.

“
I thought it was broken,” she explained, feeling ridiculous for making such a fuss.

“
There’s a knack to these things,” he said, shrugging. “Years of practice as I was growing up certainly helped. Tell you what, why don’t I do this for you, and you can make us both one of your excellent coffees?”

“
I’ve got something much more tempting than coffee,” she said thinking about the lemonade cooling in her fridge. When she noticed Luke’s surprise at her comment, she hurriedly changed the subject. “Do you know how much lawn there is?” Bea asked, perplexed by his offer to do such a tedious task. “It goes up the other side of the driveway too, as well as down past the orchard.”

He raised an eyebrow.
“Tell you what then, I’ll do the main lawn areas now, and leave the less obvious areas for another day.”

Bea couldn’t believe his offer, but had no intention of turning it down. She loved pottering in gardens, sowing seeds, dead-heading, and even planting, but the prospect of walking up and down pushing a mower, especially the part where it had to be repeatedly emptied, left her cold.
“Well if you’re certain you don’t mind, it would be a great help. Thanks.”

She almost skipped into the house, and as soon as she was sure he couldn’t see her from her vantage point behind the dining room window, took a sneaky look at the handsome bearded man with the untidy hair, and deep blue eyes she couldn’t help finding so mesmerising. He was like a big bear. A sexy
, big bear. It was wonderful to enjoy the chance of appreciating his powerful physique more fully for once. She watched his long legs pacing back and forth in straight lines across her wide, overgrown lawn and felt a warm glow inside.

“
For heaven’s sake.” She stepped back from the full-length window, nearly stepping on Flea and causing him to yelp in protest. She was relieved Tom’s promise to show her the paperwork had been delayed by an unexpected project keeping them apart at work for the last few weeks. She wasn’t going to think of Luke as guilty until she saw proof that he was. Bea hugged herself. Luke was so different to Simon and Tom physically; it wasn’t like her to be attracted to someone so rugged. She smiled.

Bea calculated it would take him well over an hour to finish his task and long enough time for her to be able to sort through her wooden seed box in the potting shed.

“I saw a door open on one of the stables,” he announced from outside the door, what seemed like moments later. She stopped tidying away the spilt compost from the worktop and looked up at his damp chest. “I presume the mower is kept in there.” Bea nodded.

“
Thanks so much for doing that. I've been dreading tackling the mowing for weeks.” She brushed the peat off her hands as he looked around the walled-in garden, wondering what had taken his eye.

“
Are those Jersey Lilies?” he asked, pointing to a clump of pretty pink flowers with tiny red crosses on their petals.

“
No, I’m not sure what they are.” Bea pointed to the larger pink lilies nearby. “Those are Jersey Lilies, Amaryllis Belladonna. To be honest my godmother always thought the Guernsey Lilies were prettier; they’re smaller, daintier.”

“
I like those first ones, they’re unusual. Would you like me to take a picture of them and ask my uncle if he knows what they are? He’s a horticulturalist or something like that.”

“
If you like, thanks.” She watched him take a quick photo of the flowers with his mobile. “I suppose I should know what each of these plants are called if I’m to learn how to look after them all properly. Do you want to come in the house to freshen up a bit?”