Staying at Daisy's (5 page)

‘
Stop it, stop it, stop it!
’
shrieked a female voice as the door of the summerhouse crashed open so hard it almost flew off its hinges. ‘
For God’s sake, let him go!
’

Every nerve ending in Tara’s body went
zzinnggg
with the need to leap six feet in the air, but Dominic was on top of her and she was unable to leap anywhere. His weight pinned her to the narrow slatted bench. He lay there, not moving a muscle either, rather like a two-year-old thinking that if he closes his eyes, keeps still, and pretends hard enough not to be there, he won’t be spotted.

It didn’t work. Moments later, Dominic was seized none too gently by the shoulders and yanked off the bench. Tara, flushed and mortified, jack-knifed into a sitting position and pulled her rucked-up uniform back down over her thighs.

God, this was awful, just awful.

‘You filthy disgusting little tart!’ bellowed a furious-looking girl in a peach satin bridesmaid’s dress. ‘What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing to my sister’s fiancé? How
dare
you!’

Horrified, Tara stammered, ‘B-but it’s not what you th-think… it wasn’t
like
that…’ and stared wildly at Dominic, waiting for him to leap to her defense.

But Dominic, pale and tight-lipped, was shaking his head in sorrowful fashion. ‘Jeannie, don’t blow your top. She didn’t mean to get carried away. I tried to stop her… the thing is, we knew each other years ago. She was just a bit overwhelmed to see me again.’

At this jaw-dropping, outright lie, Tara yelped, ‘Oh, excuse me, are you serious? You were the one who kissed me!’

‘You brought him out here,’ Jeannie blazed. ‘I looked out of our bathroom window and saw you leading the way. I thought it seemed a bit odd, that’s why I left it for a few minutes, but when you didn’t come back I came downstairs and followed the path from the back of the hotel. I couldn’t imagine where you’d gone, until I came round the corner and saw this place with all the windows steamed up. And surprise, surprise, here you were.’ She gestured in disgust at Tara, as if she were covered in sores. ‘My God, you are beyond belief, you really are. Trying to seduce a man who’s getting married in an hour and a half. I mean, do you have any idea what this is going to do to my sister?’

‘Jeannie, Jeannie, you can’t do that,’ Dominic said hurriedly. ‘You mustn’t tell Annabel, you just
can’t
.’

Tara, in deep shock, wailed, ‘I wasn’t trying to seduce him! I swear to you, I didn’t even want him to kiss me!’

‘Stop it, Tara.’ Dominic’s tone was pitying. ‘You’re only making things worse for yourself.’

‘But I wouldn’t
do
anything like that,’ she protested to Jeannie. ‘I’m not that sort of person.’

Jeannie’s upper lip curled with disdain and her gaze dropped from Tara’s anguished face to her cleavage. Tara suddenly realized that in addition to her ruffled-up hair and smudged lipstick, the top button of her navy uniform had popped undone. Again.

God, it certainly picked its moments.

With heavy sarcasm Jeannie said, ‘Oh no, of course you aren’t. Don’t tell me, you’re actually a nun.’

***

‘Oh please, you have to believe me, I swear to God I didn’t do anything wrong, it was him, not me!’

Daisy, perched on the edge of her desk, was so angry she could barely speak. Tara was pacing agitatedly around the office, her eyes red-rimmed, her movements jerky, and her hair sticking up like a parakeet’s. She may only have known Tara for three years but they had become close friends in that time and although she might be many things, Tara wasn’t dishonest. Daisy knew all about the less salubrious aspects of her past. If anything, Tara was too naïve and too trusting for her own good. She certainly didn’t lie.

‘Look, sit down, of course I believe you.’ Tara’s frantic pacing was beginning to make Daisy feel dizzy. ‘But we have to figure out some way to sort this out. Annabel’s upstairs refusing to come out of her room. She’s insisting the wedding’s off. Bloody hell, why couldn’t that deranged sister of hers have kept her big mouth shut? If she’s so convinced you’re the one to blame for all this, why did she even have to tell Annabel what she’d seen? If Dominic’s innocent, why does Annabel want to cancel the wedding? God, who’s
that
?’ she sighed as a knock came at the door. ‘Please don’t let it be Jerry Springer.’

Or the bride’s mother, thought Tara fearfully. Or a troupe of furious relatives all snarling like Rottweilers and baying for blood.

Daisy opened the door and Tara almost fainted with relief. It was the Feather man, the one she had bumped into in the corridor outside the Gents, the one who had smiled and teased and flirted with her so deliciously earlier. And now it looked as if he was something to do with the wedding, which could only be good news. He would be bound to take her side.

Daisy, who was more
au fait
with rugby than Tara, recognized him immediately.

‘I’m Dev Tyzack.’ Briefly, he shook Daisy’s hand before shooting a cool glance in Tara’s direction. ‘I was meant to be the best man at this wedding. Right, we officially have a fiasco on our hands and it needs sorting out. I assume you have already sacked Mata Hari here.’

‘Would it help if I told you I had?’ said Daisy.

His dark eyes flickered over her. ‘It would be a start.’

‘Really?’ She slid down from the desk. ‘Well, I haven’t. Tara told me what happened and I believe her. Your friend Dominic appears to be the one at fault here.’

‘Oh, come on, you aren’t serious, I saw her in action myself,’ Dev Tyzack shot back. ‘She tried it on with me, for God’s sake, literally
seconds
before she clapped eyes on Dominic. She made all the running, I can tell you. This girl is no shrinking violet. Dominic came here today to get married and she knew that. I’ve spoken to Dominic and he’s told me everything. She dragged him out to that summerhouse and—’

‘I did not!’ Tara shrieked. ‘I didn’t drag him
anywhere
. He was desperate to talk to me about something and I just thought the summerhouse would be the best place to go because I didn’t want anyone seeing us together and getting the wrong idea!’

Dev Tyzack drawled, ‘And didn’t that work well.’

‘Would you mind not talking to a member of my staff like that?’ Daisy was having to force herself to keep her temper.

‘You mean you’d like me to be
really
honest?’ he flashed back.

‘This isn’t
fair
.’ Tara’s voice shot up another couple of octaves. ‘I didn’t do anything wrong! It was Dominic, not me. He told me how much he’d loved me and said I was perfect and then he just
launched
himself at me on that bench. I had no idea he was going to kiss me… I didn’t
want
him to kiss me…’

‘But I gather you did manage to show him your bra.’ Dev Tyzack feigned surprise. ‘The very same one you revealed to me not ten minutes earlier. I’m telling you, that bra must have been viewed by more people than the Oscars.’

‘The buttonhole on my uniform is loose,’ shouted Tara. ‘It just kept popping
undone
.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Icily, Daisy addressed Dev Tyzack. ‘But you aren’t helping matters here. In fact you’re being downright obnoxious. If we’re going to sort this out, you need to calm down and stop throwing wild accusations at my staff. As far as I’m concerned, your friend Dominic is the guilty one around here. Has it even occurred to you to fling any accusations in his direction?’

Oh God, thought Tara, petrified. Daisy was losing it; she was going way over the top now. Her eyes were bright with fury, her fists clenched at her sides, and she looked as if she wanted to punch him. She was going to get into the most terrible trouble, the repercussions could be horrendous.

This had evidently occurred to Dev Tyzack as well. A derisory smile twisted the corners of his mouth, the very mouth Tara had earlier thought so attractive. Well, she didn’t anymore.

‘Not a very professional thing for a hotel manager to say, is it?’

‘Maybe not,’ Daisy shot back, ‘but I am being truthful. If you’re going to be obnoxious, I’ll tell you you’re being obnoxious.’

‘Not worried that you might end up looking for another job?’ Dev Tyzack raised a mocking eyebrow.

‘I won’t get the sack for this, I can promise you. I have the owner’s full backing.’

‘Really? Aren’t you the lucky one. Who
is
the owner, might I ask?’ Having affected surprise, he now allowed his gaze to come to rest on a framed photograph on the desk. It was a group photograph featuring Daisy as a teenager, doubled up with laughter between her parents. Tanned and healthy, the three of them had been celebrating New Year’s Eve in the Cayman Islands and it was Daisy’s all-time favorite photo. ‘Oh, I
see
,’ said Dev Tyzack. ‘The owner of this hotel is Hector MacLean and he just happens to be your father. Now I understand how you got the job.’

Tara couldn’t bear it. Her stomach was churning like a tumble dryer. She was innocent but she
felt
guilty. And what if she wasn’t as innocent as she thought? Maybe she was just making pathetic excuses for herself to avoid having to admit that she should never have gone with Dominic to the summerhouse in the first place.

What’s more, Daisy was looking more homicidal by the second. And there was a big brass letter opener on her desk, not to mention a ferocious-looking stapler that fired staples like a Kalashnikov.

Praying that Daisy wouldn’t actually start firing it like a Kalashnikov, Tara clapped a hand to her mouth, muttered ‘’Scuse me, think I’m going to be sick,’ and made a bolt for the door.

As she rushed from the office, she caught sight of Dominic. He was in the lounge bar across the hall, standing in front of the fireplace clutching a drink.

Tara’s palms were clammy as she made her way towards him. The only other person in the room was Rocky, polishing glasses behind the bar and pulling a ‘Rather you than me’ face at her when he realized she was approaching Dominic.

‘Oh God. What do you want?’ Dominic didn’t look at all pleased to see her. Gone were the loving tones he’d employed twenty minutes earlier.

That was fine by Tara.

‘You’ve lied to everyone.’ She came straight to the point. ‘You told them I threw myself at you.’

There was a sheen of perspiration on his upper lip. He was gripping the tumbler of Scotch in his hand so tightly it was a wonder the glass hadn’t shattered.

‘Of course I lied. What would you have done in my situation?’ He kept his voice low.

OK, thought Tara, fair enough.

‘So you didn’t mean all those things you said?’

‘I didn’t mean for this to bloody happen! Christ, I can’t believe it, this is my fucking wedding day.’

Tara took a deep breath. ‘Do you still want to marry Annabel?’

He turned and looked at her as if she were a bag lady. ‘What? Are you
mad
? Of course I want to marry her! But she’s upstairs, having a complete head fit and refusing to marry
me…
Jesus, what have I done to deserve this? It’s
so
fucking unfair.’

Tara’s least favorite person in the world opened the door to the Bellingham Suite. Actually, Tara decided, Dominic was her number one least favorite person. But Jeannie had to be number two.

‘Oh God, I don’t believe it. What is this, some kind of sick joke?’ Jeannie, who was smoking a cigarette, exhaled a long stream of smoke right into Tara’s face.

‘I’d like to talk to Annabel.’ It was a lie, of course; there was no question of liking it, but Tara pressed on regardless. ‘Alone. Please.’

‘Oh, this is too much. You seriously think my sister would
want
to talk to you?’

‘Look, could you just ask her?’

‘Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage?’ Jeannie snapped.

Tara swallowed, red-faced with shame. ‘Yes, I do. That’s why I’m here now.’

The door was abruptly slammed shut in her face. Tara heard a lot of furious whispering inside the room. Moments later the door swung open again. Without looking at her, Jeannie and a middle-aged woman in a vast purple mother-of-the-bride outfit marched out.

‘Five minutes,’ Jeannie hissed as she passed Tara in a rustle of apricot satin. ‘Then,’ she warned, like Schwarzenegger only scarier, ‘we’ll be back.’

Annabel, her blonde hair still fastened up in an elaborate chignon, was sitting rigidly on the window seat wrapped in one of the hotel’s white terry cloth robes. Her wedding dress lay in a crumpled heap on the four-poster bed. She looked at Tara as if she were a dentist arriving to rip out all her teeth.

‘Well?’ Annabel demanded without preamble. ‘What happened?’

Tara took a deep shuddering breath. ‘I’m sorry. It was all my fault and I’m so ashamed. Seeing Dominic again after all this time was too much for me. I just couldn’t cope with the fact that he was marrying someone else and I threw myself at him. It was a mad thing to do and I don’t expect you to forgive me but please, you have to forgive him. You can’t call off the wedding. He told me how much he loved you. I’m just so sorry I caused all this trouble. You have to marry him. It wasn’t his fault, it was mine.’ There. Who said she wasn’t an actress?

Tara waited miserably for the other girl’s reaction.

A single tear rolled down Annabel’s cheek. ‘Really?’ It came out as a whisper. Her fingers were agitatedly winding the belt of her terry cloth robe around her knuckles, above which glittered a hefty emerald and diamond engagement ring. ‘Is that the truth?’ There was hope in her eyes.

Tara nodded. ‘It was me. All me. I just… lost control, I suppose. And I’m sorry.’ Pause. ‘But he really does want to marry you.’

Another tear slid down Annabel’s made-up face. Instinctively Tara ripped a couple of tissues from the box on the coffee table in front of her and crossed the room with them. ‘Here, don’t wreck your makeup.’

‘Thanks. For the tissues, I mean.’ Annabel jerkily dabbed beneath her eyes. ‘I’m not going to thank you for telling me you threw yourself at my boyfriend.’

But it’s what you wanted to hear, thought Tara, because you thought he might have been the one up to no good. Who knows, maybe Dominic’s done this kind of thing before. But you don’t completely trust him, do you?

God, was she doing the right thing here? Should she be lying to this girl, persuading her to go ahead and marry someone she so evidently
couldn’t
trust? Then again, all hell was going to break loose if she didn’t.

‘I did a bad thing. I’m sorry,’ Tara said again, glancing out of the window and spotting a familiar figure hurrying up the drive. ‘The registrar’s just arrived. What are you going to do?’

‘This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.’ Annabel sounded bewildered. Luckily she didn’t seem the punch-your-lights-out kind.

‘You have to make your mind up. If the wedding’s off, the registrar needs to know.’ Steadily Tara said, ‘Do you want to marry Dominic?’

‘Of course I want to marry Dominic! Of
course
I do.’ Annabel’s voice trembled with emotion. ‘I love him. Everyone says we’re the perfect couple. And he loves me.’

Scarcely daring to breathe, Tara said cautiously, ‘So the wedding’s on again?’

‘Yes. Yes, no thanks to you,’ Annabel shot back. ‘And I don’t want to see you here this afternoon either.’

‘That won’t happen. I’ll leave now. Thanks for listening to me, anyway.’ Hugely relieved but at the same time stung by Annabel’s tone, Tara backed towards the door. On impulse she added, ‘If you like, I could iron your dress.’

‘What, so you can burn scorch marks down the front? No thank you, my mother and sister’ll be back any minute. I don’t need any help from you.’

For a moment Tara was tempted to snipe back that if she was going to be marrying Dominic, she’d be needing all the help she could get. She didn’t say it.

‘Right, well, I’ll go down and let everyone know the wedding’s going ahead.’

‘And then you’ll leave the hotel,’ Annabel frostily reminded her.

‘And then I’ll leave the hotel.’ God, there had to be a simpler way to wangle an afternoon off.

‘Will you be sacked?’

‘I don’t know.’ Tara crossed her fingers behind her back. ‘Probably.’

‘Good.’ Annabel wasn’t brilliant at playing the bitch, but she was giving it her best shot. ‘People like you have no shame. I hope you realize how pathetic you are. You deserve to lose your job.’

***

‘It’s back on again,’ Tara told Daisy, and briefly ran through her stressful encounter with Annabel.

Daisy shook her head. ‘You didn’t have to do that.’

‘I did. They might have sued the hotel.’ Tara shrugged. ‘My word against theirs. We wouldn’t have had a hope.’

This was undoubtedly true.

‘Maybe not. So she’s going to marry a lying weasel,’ sighed Daisy, who knew all about lying weasels. ‘Oh well, that’s not our problem. You’re a star.’ She gave Tara, who was looking miserable, a hug. ‘And cheer up, for heaven’s sake.’

‘They want you to sack me.’

‘You big wally. Of course I’m not going to sack you.’

‘What happened to the best man?’ Blinking back tears of relief, Tara changed the subject. ‘I half expected to come in here and find him staple-gunned to the wall.’

‘It crossed my mind. What a bastard. He’s in the bar with Dominic.’ Daisy grimaced, realizing that she now faced the delightful prospect of being forced to admit to Dev Tyzack that he had been right and she’d been wrong. She could just picture the supercilious look on his face.

***

The preparations for the wedding were cranking into overdrive as Tara slipped away from the hotel. The rain had stopped but the grey clouds were as low as her spirits. Why hadn’t she taken Daisy’s advice in the first place and swapped shifts with one of the other chambermaids? Why couldn’t she just have resisted the urge to see Dominic again and stayed away? How,
how
could she have thought that surprising him on the morning of his wedding would be fun?

Disconsolately, Tara kicked her way through a pile of soggy dead leaves. There was no getting away from the truth; basically, she was as guilty as if she had hurled herself at Dominic and ripped his trousers down to his knees.

God, what a disastrous day.

***

Maggie Donovan stood at her kitchen window, a cheerful smile fixed to her face. As her lover reached the rickety wooden gate at the end of her back garden he turned, as he always did, and waved at her. Maggie, as she always did, waved back and thought how handsome he was, what a gorgeous smile he had, how lucky she was to have such a special man in her life and how—

Oh stop it,
stop
it. Maggie gave herself a mental slap around the face. You’re fantasizing again, making an idiot of yourself. Get a grip, woman. The very reason he’s using the back gate is so that no one will see him leaving your cottage. He’s smiling and waving goodbye because he’s just completed a satisfactory business transaction. And he isn’t your lover, he’s your
client
.

Maggie’s smile faded as she watched him slip away into the woods beyond her cottage. Very handy, those woods, enabling him to come and go without being observed by the rest of the village. She was under no illusions that if the trees hadn’t been there, their arrangement would never have come about.

And that was what it was, Maggie reminded herself. An arrangement, pure and simple. One that suited them both.

To prove it, she moved away from the kitchen window and crossed to the crowded oak dresser. Reaching into the blue and white china teapot on the second shelf, Maggie drew out the small roll of notes. There was no need to count it, she knew he had left her one hundred pounds. Because that was how much he always left.

She would love to be able to describe herself as a one-man woman, but that wasn’t true. Let’s face it, she was a one-client prostitute.

Maggie sighed. It wasn’t what she wanted to be, but what was the alternative? If she refused to take his money, he would no longer sleep with her. And she couldn’t bear to give him up. He was the highlight of her week. If she could have afforded it, she would have paid him to sleep with her.

But, Maggie reminded herself, she couldn’t afford it, and he knew that. It was why he gave her the money each week. And there was no denying it came in handy.

Tara had left one of her enameled bracelets on the dresser. Maggie picked it up and headed for the stairs. It was no good wishing things could be different, because they weren’t. She had to accept what she had and make the best of it. And since she
was
only a one-client prostitute, she also had plenty of work to be getting on with. Not to mention a bed to make.

Upstairs, Maggie put the bracelet back where it belonged in the jewelry box on Tara’s dressing table. The next moment, glancing out of the bedroom window, she let out an involuntary squeak of alarm. Tara was making her way down the High Street towards the cottage.

Oh good grief, what was she doing coming home at this time of day?

Like lightning, Maggie shot across the landing to her own bedroom, ripped off her dressing gown, and threw on a black sweater and jeans. In twenty seconds flat she remade the crumpled bed, flung open the curtains, and dragged a brush through her shoulder-length blonde hair. Grabbing the laundry basket, she hauled it downstairs. When the front door opened, she was on her knees in the kitchen frantically shoveling clothes into the washing machine.

Phew, that was close. The closest shave yet, thought Maggie with a shudder of relief. Imagine the horror if Tara had come back to the house ten minutes earlier. Or, worse still, twenty minutes.

It didn’t bear thinking about.

‘Tara! Heavens, what’s the time?’ Feigning astonishment, Maggie sat back on her heels. ‘I thought you were on duty until six o’clock!’

‘Daisy sent me home.’ Tara flung herself onto one of the kitchen chairs and groaned loudly, far too wrapped up in her own guilt to notice her aunt’s. ‘You won’t believe what happened. Major disaster. Maggie, why do men do it? Why do we even bother with them? Not that you ever
do
bother with them,’ she amended, raking her fingers through her spiked-up hair. ‘And let me tell you, you have exactly the right idea. From now on, I swear to God, I’m going to take a leaf out of your book. No more being lied to and cheated on and treated like a puddle of sick. No men, no trouble. That’s
it
.’ Looking up in despair at her forty-five-year-old aunt, who had been divorced for the last seven years and now lived an idyllic, hassle-free, man-free life, she proclaimed vehemently, ‘From now on I’m going to be just like you.’

***

The wedding ceremony had gone ahead without a hitch. The bride had looked beautiful, the groom had repeated his vows as if he actually meant them. The hotel was wonderful, the best man’s speech had been brilliantly witty, and the food a triumph.

This was according to Sheila, one of the waitresses, who had been eavesdropping on the guests throughout the reception. Daisy, who had spent most of the afternoon in her office, said, ‘So they all seem happy.’

‘Couldn’t be better.’ Sheila gave her a motherly, reassuring smile. ‘Why don’t you go and see for yourself?’

Because I might stab the bridegroom and the best man with that big silver knife they’re using to cut the cake, thought Daisy.

Then again, she had been in charge of making all the arrangements for the wedding. She should at least show her face.