Thinking of You (19 page)

In two hours she had to pick up Jem from the station. As Ginny slipped back into her own house she prayed Laurel was out or asleep or upstairs listening to a Leonard Cohen CD.

No such luck. The second the front door clicked shut Laurel emerged from the kitchen.

“There you are! Now, does Jem like chocolate? Only I've made a lemon drizzle cake but if she'd prefer chocolate I can easily—
oh
.” Laurel looked concerned. “What's happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing's happened. Lemon's fine. Or chocolate. Jem likes any kind of cake.”

“Only you look as if you've seen a ghost. Something's wrong.”

To tell her? Or not to tell her? Ginny was saved from having to make the decision by Laurel moving past her, opening the front door, and peering out in search of whatever it was that might have caused the upset.

“That's Perry's car.” She pointed across the road. “What's going on? Where's Perry?”

“OK.” Closing the door and leading her back into the kitchen, Ginny said, “Would you be upset if I told you I've been… kind of seeing Perry?”

Laurel looked astounded. “You? And Perry? Seriously? But that's great! Why would I be upset?”

Exactly. Why would she have been? Tempting though it was to open a bottle of wine, Ginny grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge and sat down.

“Sorry, Perry said you wouldn't like it. Anyway, I'm not seeing him anymore.” She yanked the ring-pull and watched foam spill over the top of the can. “It's over now.”

“Oh phew, thank goodness for
that
.”

Ginny looked up. “Why?”

“Because he's a
nightmare
.” Laurel rolled her eyes. “For your sake, I'm so relieved it's over. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love him to bits, but Perry's relationships always end in disaster. Where women are concerned he has the attention span of a gnat. One minute he's crazy about them, the next minute they're history. Oh God”—she covered her mouth in dismay—“is that what he's just done to you?”

“No… no…” Ginny didn't have the heart to admit the real reason Perry had pretended to be keen on her. “Well, kind of, I suppose. He's seeing someone else now.”

“Par for the course. To be honest, you're well rid of him.” Laurel leaned forward, her forehead pleated with concern. “Are you devastated?”

Devastated. Ginny tried and failed to summon up devastation. She could do humiliation and anger—oh yes, plenty of that, no problem—but devastation over Perry wasn't an issue. Losing her best friend—her
alleged
best friend—was far more upsetting than losing Perry Kennedy.

She shook her head. “No. We only went out a few times. It wasn't serious.”

This clearly wasn't the answer Laurel wanted to hear. Or else she simply didn't believe her. “You must be upset though. He's let you down. These things are bound to hurt.” Earnestly, she said, “But I'm a good listener. You can talk about it as much as you want. It doesn't matter that he's my brother, you just let it all out, get everything off your chest, because I know there's nothing worse than feeling miserable and not being able to talk to someone about—”

“Actually, I don't do it that way.” Ginny had a brainwave. “I find endlessly thinking and talking about a failed affair makes things worse. I prefer out of sight, out of mind. In fact, you could really help me if you want to. Make sure I
never
talk about Perry.”

“Of course I will! Don't you worry.” Laurel shook her head eagerly. “I'll tell you the
moment
you mention his name.”

“And… and it might help if you try not to mention Kevin's name as well,” said Ginny. “Because if you do, it'll only remind me of Perry, and to be honest, the less I'm reminded of him the quicker I'll forget he ever existed.”
Oh
yes, brilliant.
Perry had his uses after all.

“Good point. OK, I'll do that. And don't worry; you've had a lucky escape. Think how much worse it would have been if the two of you had been together for as long as me and Kev—
oops
, sorry!” Laurel pulled an apologetic face. “Nearly did it then!”

“But you stopped
yourself
. That's excellent.” Nodding encouragingly, Ginny said, “And we'll both get better with practice.”

“I'm sure we will.” As if the concept had never occurred to her before, Laurel straightened her shoulders and said with pride, “Out of sight, out of mind!”

“Oh. Just one thing before we start it properly. The reason Perry's car's outside is because he's seeing Carla now.”

“Carla? Your best friend?” Laurel's light green eyes widened in horror.

“Well, she
was
my best friend.” Ginny watched her fingers tighten around the Coke can. “They just told me.”

“I don't believe it! You mean she stole him? What a
bitch
!”

“Thank you. I thought so too.”

“At least you know it won't last.” Laurel's tone was consoling.

“It might. This time it's different,” said Ginny. “They're in love. Perry had a—”

“
Coup de foudre
?” Laurel gave an elegant snort of amusement. “God, not another one.”

Ginny took another gulp of Coke, marveling at this revelation. It
was
a consolation to know it wouldn't last.

“One other thing.” Overcome with curiosity, she said, “Why did you never tell me this about Perry before?”

Laurel looked surprised. “You never asked.”

Right. Fair enough.

“He's my brother,” Laurel went on. “And he's always been great to me. I'm not going to go around bad-mouthing him, am I? And I didn't know there was anything going on between the two of you.” Vigorously, she shook her head. “If you'd mentioned it, I could have warned you.”

“But Perry said—”

“OK,
stop
.” Laurel held up both hands like a traffic cop. “Stop it
now
. See what you're doing? You're leading the conversation around to Perry again, obsessing about what happened! And it's my job to make sure you don't. So just clear him out of your mind. Stop thinking about him. He isn't worth it.”

Ginny struggled to keep a straight face. She'd never imagined Laurel could be so bossy and forceful. Obediently, she said, “Right.”

“Trust me.” Nodding wisely, Laurel broke four eggs into a bowl and began briskly beating them. “It's the only way.”

***

The day may have been tainted but it hadn't been ruined. The moment Jem jumped down from the train, all thoughts of Perry and Carla flew out of Ginny's mind. For almost thirty seconds they just stood there wrapped around each other, hugging tightly. Jem, her baby, was home again, and that was all that mattered. Burying her face in Jem's blond, pink-tipped hair, Ginny inhaled deeply, delving beneath the trendy new perfume until she managed to locate the precious, infinitely subtle but familiar body smell that reassured her that this was her daughter.

Finally, grinning like idiots, they pulled away from each other.

“Oh, sweetheart, it's so good to see you again.” Her heart aching with love, Ginny said, “You've had your hair cut.”

Jem reached out and gave Ginny's overgrown blond hair a mischievous tug. “You haven't.”

“And where are the sacks of washing? I thought it was in the student rules that you have to bring home at least a hundred-weight of dirty clothes.”

“We've got a top of the range Bosch washer-dryer.”

“In that case I'll bring my washing to you. How's Lucy?”

“Fine.”

“Rupert?”

“He's fine too.”

“And Davy?”

Jem shrugged. “He's OK. Busy cleaning other people's houses. Anyway, I'm here. Let's go. I can't wait to meet everyone.” Tucking her arm through Ginny's as they made their way down the station platform, she added with a complicit squeeze, “Especially Perry.”

***

“I still can't believe it. What a bastard. How could he prefer her to you?” Franz Ferdinand was blaring from the stereo and Jem had to shout to be heard over the noise. “And as for bloody Carla… I'm never going to speak to her again as long as I live. She's a complete
cow
.”

Ginny was touched by her vehemence. It was eight thirty, they were on their way to Penhaligon's, and Jem was continuing to let off steam in the passenger seat. Since Laurel had banned them from discussing
that
subject in the house, Jem was now making up for lost time. Knowing how intensely proud Carla was of her perfectly geometric bob, the latest plan was to sneak into her house while she was asleep and hack off her hair with garden shears. And possibly perform a spot of reverse liposuction while she was there, by injecting a few liters of wibbly-wobbly fat into Carla's tanned, super-toned thighs.

“I bet that's who she was with when I phoned her,” Jem said suddenly. “I've only just realized. God, talk about two-faced… they were probably in bed together. She's such a slapper. In fact, I could quite easily slap both her faces.”

“You won't,” Ginny said firmly. “If we see her, we ignore her.”

“Spoilsport.”

“She's going to have her conscience to live with. And from what Laurel says, it won't last long. Perry will dump her. I'll look forward to that.”

“And after it's over?” Jem was looking at her. “What then? Don't tell me you'll be friends with Carla again.”

Ginny shook her head; her mind was made up on that score. “That's not going to happen.”

“Good.” Jem sat back, satisfied.

“So what do you think of Laurel?” Reaching forward and turning down Franz Ferdinand, Ginny changed the subject.

“I like her! She's really nice. You said she was depressed but she seemed really cheerful to me.”

Ginny smiled to herself. This was true; the change in Laurel had been staggering. Who would have guessed that all Laurel needed to snap her out of her misery was another depressed person in the house? She was now positively reveling in her newfound role as chief cheerer-upper, even if Ginny wasn't mourning the loss of Perry quite as much as Laurel seemed to want to believe.

“And her cakes are out of this world,” Jem added cheerfully. “That has to be a bonus.”

“It is.” Ginny nodded with relief because she might have told Perry she no longer wanted Laurel in the house, but in her heart of hearts she'd known all along that she would never actually kick her out.

“So hang on a minute, let's just get this straight. You thought Carla was a great friend and it turns out she's a complete witch.” Jem was now counting on her fingers. “You believed Perry was perfect, the man you'd been waiting for all these years. And as far as you were concerned, Laurel was depressed. You know, I think it's a good job I'm here,” she told Ginny. “Because, basically, you're pretty hopeless. You've been wrong about everyone so far.”

 

Finn emerged from his flat as Ginny was parking in the courtyard.

“Is that your boss? And you didn't tell me he was that good-looking either. For an older man,” said Jem.

“Shhh, keep your voice down.” But as he came over to greet them, Ginny suspected Finn had overheard.

“You must be Jem.” He smiled and shook her hand. “We've heard a lot about you.”

“Ditto. You're the man who tried to have my mother arrested.”

“I hardly ever do that anymore,” said Finn.

Jem gazed past him. “I'm being hissed at.”

Ginny saw Myrtle, her tail swishing, staring disdainfully down from the high, ivy-strewn courtyard wall. The cat blinked and bared her teeth again.

“Her name's Myrtle. Not the world's friendliest cat,” said Finn. “We think she's pregnant but nobody's been able to get near enough to find out for sure.”

“If she's this touchy, it's a miracle she ever managed to get pregnant in the first place. I suppose it's like some women,” Jem went on pointedly. “They don't look sex mad on the outside, but deep down, they're nothing but tarts.”

Finn threw a questioning glance at Ginny, who felt herself turning red. Oh brilliant, did he think Jem meant her?

“And if Myrtle's pregnant she shouldn't be climbing high walls. It's dangerous.” Moving past Finn, Jem held her arms up and made kissing noises. “Come on, sweetie, it's all right, let's get you down from there, shall we?”

Myrtle looked at Jem as if she was deranged before haughtily turning her back on everyone and springing like Spider-Man from the top of the wall to the upper branches of the mulberry tree beyond it.

“Dr. Dolittle, I presume.” Finn was amused by Jem's failure.

“I'm usually good with animals.” Disappointed, Jem watched as Myrtle elegantly picked her way along the branch before leaping across to the next tree. “She doesn't look pregnant to me.”

Inside the restaurant, Finn looked around and said, “No sign of Perry yet.”

“Just as well,” Jem retorted, “if he doesn't want to end up being stuffed into a food processor.”

“He won't be joining us,” Ginny put in hurriedly. Another raised eyebrow from Finn.

“Mum's been chucked. And guess who he's been seeing behind her back? Only her best friend,” said Jem.

“Who,
Carla
?” Finn looked startled. “But she told me she didn't—”

“Like him? She lied. Could we change the subject now?” said Ginny. “My daughter's home and that's all I care about. We're here to celebrate.”

“And get the teeniest bit drunk.” Jem beamed at Finn, who was moving behind the bar. “So we'll have a couple of glasses of house white to start with. Bucket-sized, if you've got them.”

“That's not celebrating.” Taking a bottle of champagne from the fridge and removing the wire, Finn expertly uncorked it. “Here, on the house.”

“Hey, I like this place!”

“Don't get used to it. Strictly a one-off.”

Jem's smile broadened as he filled their glasses and scrunched the bottle into a bucket of ice. “You're nicer than I was expecting.”

His mouth twitched. “You mean nicer
and
better looking?”

“Yes. Still single?”

“Jem!”

“Why?” said Finn.

Jem looked innocent. “No reason. Just asking.”

After an hour, Ginny began to relax. Introducing Jem to Evie had been a joy, followed by Evie asking where Perry was and having to hear about what had happened, which wasn't. Then Evie had relayed the information to Martha who was even more outraged on Ginny's behalf. But after that it had got easier, helped along by the rest of the bottle of Moët—so much more delicious when you weren't paying for it yourself. And Dan the Van had come up trumps too, supplying the restaurant with sublime asparagus and artichokes, Jem's favorite vegetables in the world.

“That was so gorgeous. I want to lick my plate,” Jem said longingly.

“Might be best not to. Finn'll turf you out.”

“So he runs the antiques center by day and works here in the restaurant in the evenings. Isn't that an awful lot of hours?”

“They're his businesses. He wants them to do well. And the customers like having him around.”

Jem watched Finn chatting to a table of eight. “But when does he get time off?”

“When he needs it.” Suspicious of the direction her daughter's thoughts were traveling in, Ginny leaned forward and changed the subject. “Anyway, tell me what's been happening in Bristol. You haven't mentioned boyfriends for a while. Anyone exciting you want to tell me about?”

“Maybe the reason I haven't mentioned boyfriends is because I've been working too hard too.” But Jem's blue eyes were sparkling, her tone playful. Relaxed by the champagne, she was clearly in the mood to spill some beans tonight.

“Don't believe you.” Ginny waved her last spear of asparagus tantalizingly over Jem's empty plate.

“We-ell, maybe there is someone.”

“And his name is…?”

Jem said, “Do I get the asparagus?”

“Depends. Maybe. And his name is…?” Wouldn't it be great if she were to say Davy?

“It's Rupert,” said Jem. And blushed.

Right. Bugger. Well, it wasn't really a huge surprise.

“Rupert? Gosh, that's a surprise! You two, a couple.” Ginny shook her head in amazement. “Wow!”

“He's great,” Jem said eagerly, fencing the asparagus spear from Ginny's fork and snaffling it before she could change her mind. “Well, you've met him; you already know how good-looking he is. We've been seeing each other for the last few weeks.” Energetically, she chewed and swallowed the asparagus. “The thing is, though, we haven't told Lucy. It's a bit awkward, you see, the three of us sharing the flat. Because we all get on so well together, she might feel left out if she knew. So for now it's our secret.”

Déjà vu. Déjà vu clanging away like a big old bell. Was it some kind of inherited condition? Ginny wondered. Were she and Jem destined only to meet men who didn't want their relationships made public?

Carefully, she said, “Was that your idea or Rupert's?”

Jem considered this. “Well, both really. I mean, Rupert said it. But it just makes sense. I'd hate Lucy to feel like a third wheel.
I'd
hate it if I was the third wheel.”

This was a fair point—indeed, a familiar point—but Ginny couldn't help feeling a sense of unease. So all they were doing, presumably, was sleeping together behind Lucy's back. How romantic.

“But you're happy?”

Jem beamed and took a gulp of champagne. “Very happy.” Then she paused. “I thought you'd be happy about it too.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I am. If you like him, that's… great. I suppose I was just thinking about this keeping-it-secret business because it's what Perry said to me. I don't want you to get hurt.”

“But that was completely different. Laurel is Perry's sister. To be honest, Mum, it was a dodgy excuse in the first place. You were a bit gullible. But Rupert's not like Perry; he's only doing it to spare Lucy's feelings. He's a nice person. And he's fun. Loads of girls at uni have a crush on him,” Jem concluded with pride. “He could have anyone he wants. But he's chosen me.”

“That's because he has good taste.” Ginny reached across the table and gave Jem's hand a rub. Forcing herself to sound suitably enthusiastic she said, “He's a lucky boy. And I can't wait to meet him again properly. The two of you could come down and stay for a weekend, how about that? Everyone enjoys a trip to the seaside, don't they?”

“Mum, Rupert isn't eight.” Jem rolled her eyes in amusement. “What would we do, have picnics on the beach and build sand castles?”

What was so terrible about a picnic on the beach? “Well, no, but…”

“He's in the south of France now, staying in his dad's villa. I've seen photos of it,” said Jem. “It's the most incredible place you've ever seen. Joan Collins is a neighbor!”

Lucky old Joan.

“Rupert's gone down there with an old friend from boarding school.” Leaning forward, Jem whispered excitedly, “And
his
father's a billionaire!”

Was that the problem? Did Jem think her house wasn't glamorous enough to impress Rupert? Because they didn't have a vast swimming pool, hordes of servants, and a panoramic view over St. Tropez harbor?

“Oh well then, that'll just have to be my next move,” Ginny said lightly. “Marry Rupert's friend's father.”

Jem giggled. “Don't be daft; you're far too old for him. He married his fifth wife last year, and she's twenty-two.”

Their main courses arrived and Ginny ordered a bottle of wine. The conversation turned away from Rupert and they chattered instead, far more pleasurably, about clothes, shoes, Jem's customers at the pub, and the rich American who had come to Penhaligon's last Wednesday and ended up offering Finn half a million dollars for his jukebox (
yes
, he'd been drunk).

Just after nine thirty the door opened and a family of six piled in. One of the girls immediately spotted Jem and rushed over to their table.

“Jem Holland! You're back!”

Jem jumped to her feet and hugged Kaz Finnegan, her old school friend. “Kaz, so are you!”

“This is brilliant. Hi, Ginny! Someone told me you were working here.”

“I am.” Ginny was very fond of Kaz. “But Jem came home today so I'm having a night off.”

“Working for dishy Finn. Lucky you. Now listen, it's my birthday next Tuesday.” Kaz looked at Jem. “Will you still be here then?”

Jem nodded. “I'm back for a week.”

“Yay, so you can come to my birthday party. We've hired a huge tent for the garden, and there's a band and everything. Loads of people invited.” Persuasively, Kaz said, “And fireworks!”

Jem hesitated then looked over at Ginny. “What d'you think, Mum? Would that be OK with you?”

“And Niall's going to be there,” Kaz went on. “He'd love to see you again.”

Ginny smiled, because Jem and Kaz's older brother had had a teenage romance a couple of years ago and although the relationship had foundered when Niall had moved away to study for a degree in history at Manchester, she knew Jem still had a soft spot for him.

Ginny had a soft spot for him too, basically because he wasn't Rupert. “Go,” she told Jem. “You'll have a fantastic time. I'm working on Tuesday evening anyway.”

“With Finn Penhaligon.” Kaz's eyes sparkled. “My mum has such a crush on him it's embarrassing. Is he fun to work for?”

At that moment, Finn walked past their table. “He's a nightmare,” said Ginny. “A complete slave driver.”

Without slowing down Finn said, “Some slaves need to be driven.”

By the time the dessert menus arrived, Jem was sharing the last of the wine between their glasses. Dabbing at the drops she'd spilled on the tablecloth, she sat back and tilted her head to one side.

“What?” protested Ginny. “Why are you looking at me like that? If you're trying to hypnotize me into saying I don't want a dessert, it's not going to work.”

“I wouldn't do that. I might try to hypnotize you into giving me your dessert.” Jem beamed. “But that's not what I was thinking about.”

“OK.” To tease her, Ginny returned her attention to the menu. “Now I'm either going to have the orange crème brûlée or the double chocolate tart. Ooh, or the mango and lime cheeseca—”

“You're supposed to ask me what I was thinking about!”

“Go on then.” Ginny was feeling thoroughly relaxed now; the day might have been traumatic but she was enjoying herself. It was so wonderful to have Jem, her beloved daughter, back at last. That was all that mattered.

“We-ell, he's good-looking. And Kaz's mum fancies the pants off him.” Jem signaled with her eyebrows to let Ginny know who she was talking about, just in case Ginny might think she meant the fat bloke on table six. “So what I'm wondering is, have you given it any thought at all?”

OK, Ginny amended;
sometimes
it was wonderful to have her back.

“No.” She shook her head, hastily blanking out the mental image of that four-poster bed and those cream curtains billowing in the breeze while a semi-naked—“No, never, not at all, God
no
.”

“That's a lot of nos.”

It was. Too many. Ginny forced herself to stop shaking her head, which had acquired a momentum of its own. “I just don't think of him in that way! He's my
boss
.”

“That's a rubbish excuse,” Jem pointed out. “Lots of people fancy their bosses.”

“Well, I don't.” Feeling a bit hot, Ginny took another slug of wine. Whoops, chin.

“Why not?”

Why not? Off the top of her head Ginny could think of a hundred reasons, chief among them the fact that her confidence had just taken the kicking of its life. Because, let's face it, she'd made an almighty fool of herself falling for Perry's lies, and given half a chance she would have leaped into bed with him before you could say floozy. But that hadn't happened because Perry hadn't been even remotely interested in sleeping with her, to the extent that he had resorted to the feeblest of excuses.

How much of an ego boost was that?

And basically, if Perry found her that unattractive, why on earth would someone like Finn be tempted? He could have anyone, for heaven's sake. Even Kaz's mother.

A beady-eyed Jem, meanwhile, was still waiting for an answer.

“Look, we get on well together,” Ginny improvised. “And that's enough of a miracle in itself, considering what happened the first time we met. But it's only been a few hours since I found out about Perry and Carla. I really don't think I'm cut out for this dating malarkey. I'd rather just… you know, live without the hassle.”