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Authors: Samantha Tonge

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BOOK: Mistletoe Mansion
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‘Because that’s exactly how you reacted when I asked you if you’d shagged Luke. You nearly choked to death.’

‘What’s that!’ gasped Jess. ‘Kimmy? You and Luke?’

‘No!’ I said, hotly. ‘Melissa just got the wrong idea. As if Luke and me…’ I knocked back another mouthful of fizz. ‘Did he drop round to ours after work today, Jess?’

‘You and Luke?’ she repeated.

‘It was only a kiss,’ I said. ‘We got carried away last night – it was dark, a bit spooky…’

Jess shook her head. ‘I’d never have guessed. But he’s, I mean… I can’t even begin to make sense of it.’

‘Well, it’s all over now,’ I rambled, ‘not that there was anything really going on.’

Jess stared at me. ‘I can’t keep up. By the way – did you remember to ring Mr Murphy?’

‘Yes – this afternoon. I wasn’t sure what to say – just assured him that things were in hand and that the morning’s viewing had gone well,’ I said, hoping Melissa wouldn’t ask me again about the hen party – but no such luck.

‘Back to Saffron,’ said Melissa. ‘Give me some dirt so that next time I see her, I can wipe off that annoying smile. God knows she’ll have enough ammunition against me after Sandra’s articles are published.’

I put down my glass. ‘Okay.’ Breathe in, breathe out. I didn’t need to tell the full story. Perhaps I could just drop a hint. ‘For a start her real name is Jane.’

Melissa clapped her hands. ‘I love it.’

‘And is she seeing someone else?’ asked Jess.

I squirmed as they both stared at me. The moment of truth. ‘Yes.’

Melissa put down her glass. ‘But she only got engaged about six months ago,’ she said, voice all quiet again.

‘Who is it?’ asked Jess.

I opened my mouth and really tried to say the word Jonny, but nothing came out.

‘Kimmy?’ said Melissa.

‘How did you find out?’ asked Jess.

‘I found something… in one of her drawers… I was helping her look for a piece of paper. She’d written a little speech for her sister’s party.’

‘What did you find?’ asked Melissa, flatly.

‘Look. It’s late,’ I stuttered. This was going too far. ‘Why don’t we discuss this tomorrow? After last night, I’m shattered.’

Melissa raised her perfectly tattooed eyebrows.

Aarggh! There was no way around this. And, deep down, I knew Melissa had a right to know. My hands felt all sweaty. ‘A bracelet, with a heart charm and mini Eiffel Tower on it,’ I mumbled, knowing that if I’d scoured that photo of Jonny with the blonde, Melissa would have certainly memorised every millimetre.

‘Huh?’ Jess put down her orange juice.

Melissa said nothing.

‘Would someone mind telling me what this is all about?’ said Jess.

I reached out and touched Melissa’s arm. ‘You had your suspicions, didn’t you? I’m so sorry. I wasn’t sure whether to mention it, but… well, we’re friends and–’

‘Friends?’ Melissa stood up unsteadily. ‘I’m not sure I know what those are anymore.’

‘I know you’re upset,’ I said and got to my feet too. ‘But surely it’s best to find out sooner rather than later?’

‘It’s not true!’ she said, loudly. ‘Jonny loves me and Saffron’s engaged to that finance nerd. Just because Luke’s let you down, you want to ruin my happiness. I don’t know why I’ve even bothered talking to you this last week.’ Her velvety tones were gone. ‘You’re staff, for God’s sake.’

A ball of coldness hit the centre of my chest. ‘
What
did you just say?’ I shook off Jess’s arm which was trying to guide me to the front door.

‘Let’s just say I’ve humoured you – done my bit for the little people. Let you experience a bit of the high life.’ Melissa shuddered. ‘It’s the first and last time anything from Primark touches my sofa.’

‘You’ve spent most of your time around at ours!’ I said.


Yours
? I hardly think that house belongs to you, dear.’

‘You didn’t complain when I invited you to use the hot tub.’

‘Yes – captivating it was, listening to your stories of going to the pub with Adam. Well wake up, darling, time to go back to your dull little life.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Did you really think Melissa Winsford would be anything but bored with a two bit cakemaker from Luton, whose boyfriend…’ she winced, ‘… packs potatoes for a living? I eat caviar, drink crystal champagne. I discuss bunker shots with Tiger Woods. Did you really believe I was interested in hearing about your dreary life and…’ her voice wobbled, ‘…your self-delusional dream of making it big in the catering world?’

Melissa stuck her head in the air and went into the hallway. Followed closely by Jess, I strode past her and stormed out of the house, past the tinkling golf club fountain and along to the end of her drive.

‘And unless you want Jonny’s lawyers to screw
you
,’ screeched Melissa, ‘stay away and keep your dirty little suspicions to yourself!’

Chapter 25

“The Silky Prawn” sounded like something fun your boyfriend might present you with as a Valentine’s gift. As it turned out it was a very posh Chinese restaurant I’d been dying to visit, on the outskirts of Luton. Turning into the tiny car park, around the back, my luck was in, and I drove into the last space. It was Saturday night. Frost glinted on the pavement. The weather couldn’t make up its mind this week, veering between damp days and ones cold enough to freeze my car’s engine – even though it now spent its nights in a fancy garage.

It was one week since I’d left Adam. This morning, after yesterday’s fall-outs with Luke and Melissa, I’d phoned him. My Ex had listened and made reassuring noises, then to my amazement, asked me out to dinner. He hadn’t said “to grab a bite” or “to hit the drive-thru” and I nearly fainted when the words came down the line “and blow the expense”. Unless he was hoping I’d pay, after I told him about Saffron’s cheque. Maybe Adam felt sorry for me, after I’d repeated Melissa’s snotty comments. I didn’t tell him about Luke taking me for a mug, by pretending to be the ghost.

I smoothed down my short tartan skirt, which looked kind of festive with the red jacket, and locked the car door. With a deep breath, I headed into the restaurant and stopped for a second to breath in the savoury aroma of deep-fried pork and soy sauce. Mmm. Lush.

Ahem. No, bad word – it reminded me of Melissa calling Luke
luscious
. He’d called round early this morning; shouted something about being sorry – I’d slammed the door in his face, before, armed with magazines, taking a long soak in the hot tub. Except it wasn’t such fun anymore, reading the juicy gossip; not since I’d seen how such stuff hurt Melissa.

I smiled at the smartly dressed waiter. When I gave him Adam’s name, he led me past a small bar, at the front of which was an amazing fish tank. There was a folded up newspaper on a chair next to it and I caught the sports headlines on the back. It had been all over the news today – how golf’s Golden Couple was torn apart by drink, affairs and negative pregnancy tests. Despite her nasty comments last night, I felt sick for Melissa and the way Sandra had portrayed herself as a loyal friend, who made out that she was only telling her story so that Melissa would “get help”.

What a cute restaurant, with red and gold dragons painted across the walls. Orange pumpkin-like lanterns hung from the ceilings, and each table we passed was covered with a white tablecloth, on top of which stood a red candle and small vase containing a plastic orchid. The ceiling was jade green and pictures of mountains and animals hung here and there. The restaurant looked really festive, with the red and gold decor. By the bar stood an exquisite, twinkling Christmas tree, decorated with unusual baubles. Next to the cash till was a waving metallic Chinese lucky cat.

‘Kimmy?’

I smiled at Adam as the waiter pulled out a chair. I sat down, in front of half a lager.

‘I ordered your usual drink,’ he said and returned my smile.

‘Great,’ I said and took a sip. The week had seemed so long, yet now it was as if we’d never been apart. Deep breath. No flighty comments. Talk only about money and responsibility and for God’s sake don’t mention the Games of Thrones Room, hot tub or champagne. Because even though I had my doubts about Adam, this was a last chance to see if we really had something special.

‘You look nice,’ he said.

‘Thanks.’ I said, telling myself it didn’t matter that Adam had just pulled on a sports shirt. Luke’s shirts hung a bit more loosely and left you to imagine what was underneath… In fact, like his hair, the handyman was altogether more laidback. I shook myself. I wasn’t going to think about that lying, dishonest–

‘Crispy duck pancakes to start?’ said Adam. ‘And lemon chicken and chilli beef with fried rice for the main?’

I nodded. We always had those dishes for take-away.

‘Swanky, isn’t it?’ he said and gazed around. ‘But I guess you’re used to that, after a week in Harpenden.’

‘I…I’ve been working too hard to really make the most of it. That day you visited, honestly, it was a one-off. Me and Jess, we’re doing everything we can to get that place sold. We’re the most reliable housesitters they’ve had – it’s not been a popular job.’ What with snobby neighbours and spooks…

Adam placed his hand over mine. ‘What’s up, babe? This Melissa really got to you, didn’t she? When we first spoke after you’d moved in, you were so excited.’

‘Yes, partly because I thought you’d be impressed that I’d got a job so quickly and made do with the first place I could find to live in.’


Made do
?’ Adam snorted. ‘Your new pad’s smarter than any hotel and it’s rent-free. Sorry, Kimmy, but I’d have been more pleased if you’d at least signed on at the Job Centre and got your CV sorted.’

‘But what about the money I’ve earned from my business?’

‘Business?’ he took his hand away. ‘Can you still not see that this madness is nothing but a hobby? You’ve made a couple of contacts, but those people aren’t going to order off you, week in week out. And how are you going to meet any more people wealthy enough to pay through the nose for cakes, now that you’ve fallen out with this Winsford woman?’

‘I’m thinking of doing a business course.’ I said, voice wavering, as I slipped off my red jacket and hung it over the back of my chair.

‘What, wasting more money? And you’d have to start from the bottom up – you don’t even know the basics. Like the way you’ve randomly called yourself KimCakes Ltd – do you even know what the Ltd bit means?’

My cheeks flamed. Not exactly. But it sounded good didn’t it? More professional.

‘For a start, you have to register any Limited business under the Companies Act. Face it, Kimmy, you’ve not even considered the paper-pushing side of things yet. As Uncle Ron always says, working for yourself means bloody long hours with very little profit in the first few years. We’d never get any savings together.’

‘Then why don’t you have a word with Ron for me and get some advice? Or better still, invite him round for dinner – I could pick his brains. I’ve always thought how much he enjoyed being his own boss.’

‘I don’t want to see you disappointed, babe, when this bonkers project of yours fails.’

‘You assume I won’t succeed?’ I thought of Luke. He hadn’t doubted me. My jaw tightened. Not that I could trust anything that two-faced slimeball said.

At that moment the waiter appeared and Adam gave him our order. Nothing had changed in the last week. Just like Melissa, Adam thought I should know my place in life and stick to it. When the waiter bowed and left, Adam nipped to the toilet, giving me space to sigh.

‘What’s today’s speciality?’ said a familiar voice. ‘Bang Bang Chicken? Yep. Plenty of noodles, please.’

What the…? I turned to the next table and glared at Luke, wearing a smart, sexy navy shirt that showed just the right amount of tanned chest. He’d even shaved – though an irritating, disloyal part of me crazily liked his rugged side and felt disappointed.

‘Fancy seeing you.’ He grinned.

‘What are you doing here?’ I hissed. Then I blushed. My eyes welled. No. I wasn’t going to show him I was bothered or embarrassed about how he’d duped me.

‘Free country, isn’t it? I just fancied eating out. I know I’m
nothing but a handyman,
but I like to think my taste in food is cosmopolitan.’

‘I didn’t mean that,’ I muttered. ‘Not that I’m apologising – not after your behaviour.’ I turned my attention to the menu.

‘If you’d just let me explain…’

‘Forget it.’

He sipped a beer. ‘Your boyfriend’s a bundle of laughs, isn’t he?’

I turned back to him. ‘He’s not my boyfriend – I don’t think. Anyway, at least he’s honest, unlike someone I could mention. Just go away. Adam will be back in a minute.’

He stared at me. ‘Maybe I’ll join your table, if you aren’t a couple. Unless, of course, you’ll let me say my bit before he gets back. Then I’ll leave.’

Aargh! Could he possibly be any more annoying? My fists curled under the table. I glanced over to the door of the men’s toilets and then consulted my watch. ‘You’ve got one minute and counting.’ I didn’t want to upset Adam.

He put down his drink. ‘I think Mike Murphy has messed with Walter’s will. Just before Lily died, the Carmichaels told me that they were leaving everything to their favourite charities.’

I eyed him closely. ‘That was a while ago. People change their minds. Walter was close to his nephew in the end.’

‘Not that close – I remember calling round, a couple of weeks before Walter passed on. Murphy rang him whilst I was there, said he was coming down on yet another business trip and would stop by. Walter pulled a face – said his nephew meant well but was tiring him out with all the well-meaning lunches and trips. He also mentioned that Murphy kept trying to save him money – he’d suggested new energy providers, a different television package and a new solicitor. But was the financial advice so that there’d be more left for him? Plus Walter was very independent and resented the interference. Murphy didn’t sound to me like someone he’d want to leave loads of money to.’

‘So?’

Luke folded his arms. ‘I reckon Murphy got him to change solicitors and somehow forged a new will, making himself the major beneficiary. I overheard him once, a couple of months after Walter died. I was tidying up the garden whilst Murphy was on his phone, in the summerhouse. He talked about how he’d be able to buy a new car, bigger house and book a dream-of-a-lifetime trip to the States. So, the money he must be getting from the Carmichaels’ estate must be considerable. Yet, Walter’s charity work was always important to him, right up to the end – he wouldn’t have them miss out.’

BOOK: Mistletoe Mansion
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