Escape for the Summer (18 page)

The caravan was certainly past its best but the setting for it couldn’t have been more idyllic. Tucked away behind a tumbledown farmhouse, it sat in an overgrown meadow brimming with daisies and buttercups, and sheltered from the wind by a small orchard of gnarled ancient apple trees. At the end of the meadow, fields of wheat and barley rolled gently down towards the town, edged with a ribbon of blue where the estuary met the sea. Andi drank her coffee and listened to the chirruping of a little wren and the trembling call of a wood pigeon. Her pulse slowed. A more private and healing spot she couldn’t imagine. Gemma had done them proud.

Fetching her phone from inside and an apple to keep her suddenly ravenous hunger pangs at bay, Andi settled back onto the step and began using the organiser to list all the things she needed to do. Angel always laughed at her for making lists, calling her anal and a control freak, but Andi liked to be organised. Lately the only things she’d had any control of had been her endless lists (
Ten ways to kill Tom/Things I need to do/Ways I can make some money
), so Andi felt she could be forgiven for hanging onto them. Hey, if she were a superhero she would probably be List Girl! Today’s list involved finding somewhere with Wi-Fi so that she could email Simon Rothwell her resumé; next was a visit to the bank to see if her redundancy money had been paid in. Jonty had suggested meeting up for a coffee later on if she was free but Andi wasn’t sure. He was a nice guy and she knew that he was just being friendly, but to be honest at the moment she just wanted to be by herself. She needed to sort herself out.

Andi paused from her typing and stared out to sea. Yesterday had certainly been crazy, that was for sure. Much as she was thrilled with the idea of having found a potential job, she wasn’t counting any unhatched chickens just yet – and so she added
visit the job centre
to her list of tasks. Unlike Angel, who seemed to have fallen yet again on her well-pedicured feet and claimed to have more beauty work than she could handle (and new designer clothes to boot), Andi was cautious by nature. She guessed a psychologist would probably say her trust issues were down to her father walking out on the very day they discovered her mother had cancer. Maybe so. And maybe Angel was constantly searching for a replacement father figure who would protect her? Cod psychology made Andi’s head hurt and it was far too nice a day to dwell on the past. She’d gone against all her instincts and trusted Tom and look where that had got her. From now on, Andi was determined that she was only going to trust herself. However genuine and helpful Jonty seemed, he was still a man and therefore programmed to let women down. If the job with Simon came off, then brilliant. If it didn’t… well, she was an independent woman and had taken her future into her own hands. She was going to be like that Beyoncé song!

Angel hadn’t been at all impressed once she’d learned that Jonty wasn’t a holidaying millionaire but merely the brother-in-law who lived in the pool house and did some chores in return for his rent. All interest had vanished quicker than their bottle of Chardonnay.

“You spent all afternoon with a guy who tinkers with boats and mows lawns?” she’d wailed. “Ands! You didn’t need to come to Rock for that: you could have done it in Clapham!”

“There aren’t many lawns in Clapham,” Gemma had said helpfully, but Angel had quelled her with a look.

“We’re here to make a new start,” she’d continued slowly, as though explaining this to the local village idiot, a post for which Andi was actually starting to feel well qualified. “That means making the most of all the opportunities that come our way. Babes, thanks to Wanker Tom you’re brassic. If you’re going to hook up with a guy, couldn’t you at least find a rich one? It’s not as though there’s a shortage here.”

Andi had felt herself colour. God, she hated being a redhead sometimes.

“I haven’t
hooked up
with anyone,” she’d said hotly. “It was just a coffee and a chat. It was nice just to talk to somebody who doesn’t know all the ins and outs of what’s happened.”

Talking to her new friend had been fun and uncomplicated. There had been no sleazy overtones and definitely no agenda. Jonty had just been lovely company, nothing more and nothing less, and she’d certainly not thought anything more of it. Besides, he was getting over a broken relationship too and had probably sensed her
not interested
vibes.

“It wouldn’t matter if you did hook up with him,” Gemma had argued, scraping up the remains of the whipping cream with a spoon and dolloping it in her coffee. “Rich or poor, who gives a toss? He was gorgeous.”

Angel had looked as though she was about to weep with despair.

“Will you drag yourself out of Mills and flipping Boon, the pair of you?” she’d groaned.

Unable to take another lecture from her sister, Andi had made her excuses and retired to bed. There she’d spent a cramped hour unpacking her bag and trying to squeeze the few clothes she did have into the tiny wardrobe. Then she’d climbed into her narrow bed, pulled the chilly sheets up to her ears and tried to ignore Gemma and Angel discussing Project TV Show. Although the walls were little more than cardboard, the Cornish air had done its job and she’d quickly and mercifully dropped off.

The sun was climbing higher in the sky now and there were sounds of life coming from inside the caravan. Andi threw the dregs of her coffee onto the grass and ventured back inside. It was time to get going, she decided, and start ticking off some of the items on her list.

The time for sitting back and just letting things happen to her was over.

Chapter 18

Angel was not overly thrilled to be dragged into Wadebridge on such a sunny day. She’d planned to have a shower and then plaster herself in fake tan before slipping on her Victoria Beckham jeans and Chloé top and wandering into town – once the tan was dry, obviously, and that total bore John Humphrys had stopped jabbering on. Why her sister insisted on listening to him when there was Radio One on offer Angel had simply no idea, but then Andi was weird like that. It was like the fuss she’d made because Angel had spent her sister’s
FT
money on
Heat
magazine. Why would anyone want to read the
FT
? There were no celebs in it at all, unless you counted Richard Branson – and even he was a bit past it for Angel’s taste.

While she’d lain in bed listening to Andi and Gemma chatting, she’d screwed up her eyes to block out that annoying sunlight and had run through her mental itinerary. Today’s plan was simple: find some money – she’d already sent her father a text begging for funds – and have lunch somewhere kick-ass. Then in the afternoon she’d go for a run and this evening she’d hit the bars with Gemma. Vanya wanted a manicure at some point too, which would mean popping up to the enormous house overlooking Daymer Bay that Vanya and Vassilly were renting for the summer. Busy, busy, busy! She really ought to get up and think about straightening her hair. Angel hadn’t even been in Cornwall for twenty-four hours yet, but already the damp air was playing havoc with her hair and it was starting to curl. She’d better find a Boots ASAP and pick up some Frizz Ease
before she ended up looking like her sister.

So, it was only her pressing need for styling products that had persuaded Angel to deviate from today’s plan and take the bus with Andi to Wadebridge. The bus! Angel had almost died with horror. What if somebody saw her getting on? That would undo all the good work she’d achieved yesterday in approximately thirty seconds flat. She may as well just go round wearing a sign that read
Poor
! She’d tried her hardest to persuade Gemma to drive them to town, but for once Gemma was proving impossible to talk round; when even the suggestion of a cream tea somewhere had failed to persuade her friend, Angel had known she was doomed. For some reason Gemma was off her food – which was unheard of – and determined to stomp around Rock with her cake. Although in principle Angel approved of the whole Callum South plan, she wasn’t one-hundred percent convinced that giving him a cake was the smartest move (the guy was filming a weight-loss show after all), but Gemma wasn’t having any of it.

“You should have seen his face when he left his food behind,” she’d said when Angel had mentioned this. “Honestly, the guy was devastated. I just know a cake is exactly what he needs to cheer him up.”

Angel had opened her mouth to suggest that Gemma’s food issues were starting to affect her brain and that the last thing a dieting celeb needed was a ginormous cream sponge – particularly when pictures of him looking fat had only just been splashed across the red tops. However, the look of fervent determination on Gemma’s face stopped Angel in her tracks. Gemma was generally more pliable than Blu Tack, but once she set her mind on something there was no changing it. She’d no more listen to Angel than her sister would swap hanging out with odd-job men for spending time with multimillionaires.

Honestly, Angel had thought in despair as the bus had trundled into Wadebridge, there was absolutely no hope for either Andi or Gemma; they both seemed totally set on sabotaging their chances. She’d pulled her baseball cap down over her face, pushed her shades up her nose and sighed. It was time to face the harsh reality: it was all down to her. The other two just didn’t have a clue. Look at Andi, for example: she was ridiculously pleased to be on a bus and kept trying hard to point out the views along the way. Anyone would have thought she’d never seen the sea before. Didn’t Andi realise that if anyone saw Angel on
public transport
it was game over? She glanced across at her sister, who was chatting away to an elderly woman, and groaned. Of course Andi didn’t realise and even if she had, she wouldn’t care. Her sister simply didn’t get it. Well, if Andi was happy to hook up with odd-job men and grannies then that was her lookout, but as far as Angel was concerned there had to be more to life.

Wadebridge was busy. Although it was a weekday the town was packed with tourists keen to set off along the Camel Trail on hired bikes or to explore the shops. Leaving Andi to visit the bank – just the thought of her black-hole overdraft was enough to make Angel sweat through her several layers of Sure deodorant
– she hotfooted it to the nearest Co-op, where she dove into the Ladies and spent a good fifteen minutes repairing her hair and make-up. Once she was satisfied that she looked immaculate and that her false eyelashes weren’t crawling down her cheeks like AWOL Incy Wincy spiders, she doused herself in Coco Mademoiselle
and headed into the town. Her baseball cap was rammed into her fake Chloé Paddington bag and she’d swapped her ballet pumps for the Louboutins. Angel admired her reflection in a shop window. Those sandals looked brilliant with her skinny jeans and a Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress! With her huge shades, waterfall of hair and designer bag she totally looked the part. Now it was time to hit the shops.

Unfortunately for Angel, hitting the shops was easier said than done when your bank account was empty. When her card was declined for the second time in Boots she had to wave goodbye to all her products; with cheeks flaming, Angel left the store, wishing a thousand plagues on her father. Honestly, what sort of parent was Alex Evans? It wasn’t like he was short of cash either. Would it really have been asking too much to just bung a couple of hundred quid into her bank account? It wasn’t as though he’d done much else for Angel.

Feeling very hard done by, she wandered back towards the bank. Andi had mentioned going there to talk about her finances and to check to see if her redundancy money had been paid in. Angel shuddered at the mere thought of discussing her finances with a bank manager. The last time she’d tried this, an attempt to get a loan to buy the most gorgeous Missoni coat, she’d been sent away with a flea in her ear and with the stern advice that she should spend less money in Boots. Angel shuddered at the memory. It was not an experience she wished to repeat in a hurry. If Andi’s money had come through then her sister could lend her a couple of hundred, just until Vanya paid her. Angel was due to do a manicure for her after lunch and she was sure that once the Russian woman saw how brilliant she was at acrylics all her friends would want Angel to do theirs too.

The bank was quiet when Angel entered. A couple of customers were queuing at the counter and there was no sign of her sister. Taking a seat in the enquiries corner, Angel checked her iPhone just in case there was a message, but the screen was clear. Andi must be in with the manager then.

Angel was just contemplating slipping on her flats and walking along the Camel Trail back to Padstow then hopping back to Rock via the ferry, when the door to the manager’s office opened. Angel looked over just in case it was her sister and her heart did a base jump when none other than her gorgeous stranger walked out. She looked away hastily. Close up he was even more beautiful than she’d realised. She could imagine the royals skiing down those cheekbones, and his skin was as bronzed and smooth as peanut butter. She suddenly had an insane urge to lick him.

“Thanks for your time,” the stranger said, shaking hands with a small man in a suit. His voice was clipped, the pronunciation unmistakably upper class. “I’ll get back to you.”

He shouldered his LV bag and headed towards the door. He was even taller close up, at least six foot three, and there was something about him that commanded the attention of everyone in the place. Determined not to be like everyone else, Angel pretended to be totally absorbed in her iPhone. He’d think she was busy scrolling through her oh-so-important emails, when in reality she was checking her reflection in the mirror app. She knew he’d notice her, but there was no way she’d let him know she’d clocked him too. That was not how the game worked.

His Kurt Geiger loafers were drawing closer. She could smell his aftershave too: Montblanc, unless she was very much mistaken. Angel’s heart was racing. Any moment now he was going to stop and speak to her, she just knew it. Every cell in her body was on red alert.

“My Lord! You’ve left your sunglasses behind!”