Authors: Jill Mansell
Downstairs in the living room Max was uncorking a bottle of red wine.
âHere's to the end of your first day.' He clinked his glass against Tilly's. âYou haven't run screaming back to London yet. Cheers. Not too unbearable so far, then?'
âI've hardly done anything. I feel like a fraud.'
âHey, that's because I haven't started cracking my whip yet. You'll hate the sight of me by the end of the week. Now, I've written a list of things I need you to do tomorrow. I'm off up to Oxford first thing, but any problems and you can give me a ring.' Max showed her the sheet of paper, which said:
8.00a.m. Take Lou to school.
a.m. Drop wallpaper books back to Derwyn's in Cirencester.
Buy food, cook dinner, take Betty for a walk, collect six framed prints from Welch & Co. in Roxborough.
Pick up Lou and Nesh from school at 4.10p.m.
âThat looks fine.' Tilly was finding it hard to concentrate; the revelation about Jack was rocketing around inside her head and she was longing to ask a million questions. âUm, what would you like me to cook?'
âOh, God knows. It does my head in, trying to think about food. The joy of having you here is that now it's your job. But we're not fussy, so don't get your knickers in a twist worrying about it. I'll be home by six,' said Max. âAnd the next day you can come out with me, give me a hand with measuring up the next job.'
âFantastic.' Tilly wondered how soon she could swing the conversation round to Jack.
âNothing too fancy, just one of Jack's.'
Bingo!
âActually, Lou and I wereâ'
âHere, I can show you the details, he left me the brochure earlier.' Max reached for a folder on the table. âJack's in buy-to-let, did you know that? Built up quite a portfolio over the years. He picks up properties at auction and renovates them, then I make them look great before he rents them out. Now this one, for instance, is a second-floor flat in a Victorian house in Cheltenham with a south-facing living room andâ'
âLou told me about his girlfriend dying,' Tilly blurted out, no longer able to control herself. âThe week before their wedding. Lou said she drowned.'
Max paused, smiled slightly, drank some wine. Finally he turned to look at her.
âThat's right. Oh dear, and now you've joined the club. I can see it in your eyes.'
âWhat? I don't know what you mean.' But Tilly could feel herself turning red, because deep down she did know.
âThe romance of it all. The tragic widowerâexcept he isn't a widower because they didn't quite manage to get married. Sorry.' Max shook his head, his tone wry. âJack's one of my best friends and what happened
was
terrible, but it just amuses me to see the effect it has on the opposite sex. As if he isn't bloody good-looking enough to start with, and smart and successful with it. The moment women hear his history, that's it, they lose all control. It makes them want him all the more. And now it's happened to you.'
âIt hasn't,' Tilly protested, redder than ever.
âDon't give me that.' Looking resigned, Max said, âD'you know what? If Jack seduces you and dumps you and breaks your heart, and you're so distraught as a result that you realize you can't carry on living here any more and you hand in your notice and bugger off leaving me and Lou high and dry, I swear to God, best friend or no best friend, I'm personally going to break the tragic widower's neck.'
Tilly was still longing to hear all the details; having told her the basics, Louisa had been overcome with the urge to sleep. âI already told you, I'm nobody's notch.'
âAh, but that was before you knew the whole story.'
Frustration welled up. âI still don't know the whole story!'
âOK. Ready for a top-up?' Max refilled her glass then stuck his feet up on the coffee table in front of the sofa. âGet those tissues ready, girl. Jack and Rose were together for three years. She was gorgeous, a year younger than him, the prettiest thing you ever saw. Everyone loved her. They got engaged on Christmas Eve five years ago. The wedding was booked for the following December. It was due to be held at the church in the village in Pembrokeshire where Rose had grown up. Everything was arranged. Then they found out Rose was pregnant, which was the icing on the cake. They couldn't wait to become parents. Rose was crazy about horse-riding but Jack made her give up in case it damaged the baby. Anyhow, the week before the wedding, Rose went on ahead to Wales to stay with her parents and do all that last-minute faffing about. Jack stayed behind here, tying up loose ends to do with the business. On the Sunday morning, Rose took her parents' dog for a walk along the seafront. It was a stormy day, the sea was rough. Basically, the dog was chasing a seagull into the surf and it got into difficulties. This was an animal Rose had practically grown up with. The whole family was besotted with him. Well, people saw Rose yelling to the dog but he couldn't get back to shore. The next moment she'd jumped off the rocks into the sea.'
Tilly's mouth was bone dry; listening to a story like this when you already knew the outcome was unbearable.
âAnd you know what?' said Max. âShe
did
rescue the dog. God knows how, but she managed to reach him and get him close enough to the rocks to be able to scramble to safety. But she couldn't save herself. A huge wave crashed over her, then the weight of the water dragged her down and the currents swept her away. By the time the lifeboat reached her, it was too late. She was dead.'
âI don't know what to say.' Tilly shook her head, trying and failing to imagine the horror of it. âHer poor family.'
âIt was rough,' Max agreed, taking another glug of wine. âThe parents were devastated. They'd lost their daughter and their grandchildâtheir whole future, basically. And of course Jack blamed himself. He was convinced that if only he'd gone to Pembrokeshire instead of staying here, it would never have happened.' He paused, exhaled heavily. âThe thing is, of course, he had a point. Anyway, that was it. No more wedding; we had a funeral instead. Rose's family was in pieces. Jack went through the whole thing on autopilot. Afterwards he threw himself into his work. Then, about six months later, he started⦠socializing again.' Dryly Max said, âAnd he's been socializing ever since, in pretty epic fashion. We're thinking of contacting the
Guinness Book of Records
. Except they'd send some poor innocent girl down here to check him out and we all know what would happen next. Imagine the next year, opening the book and reading: “The world record for seducing women is held by Jack Lucas, aged 33, of Roxborough in the Cotswolds, who
said
he'd phone me, who promised faithfully that I'd see him again, but oh no, he's just a rotten lying bastard who thinks he can get away with treating us women like rubbish⦠I mean, who the hell does he think he
is
?”'
There was a not-so-subtle message in there somewhere. In fact Tilly supposed she should be grateful Max wasn't using a megaphone to bellow the message right in her face.
âEveryone wants to make him better,' Max went on. âThey all think they'll be the one to make a difference, to break through the barriers and make Jack fall in love again. But it's been four years now. Take it from me, he's not interested in any of that lovey-dovey stuff. He'd rather steer clear of commitment and stay single. That way he can't be hurt again. And that,' Max concluded, âis what makes Jack irresistible. That's the challenge.' He stopped and looked sideways at Tilly, to gauge her reaction.
âWhat happened to the dog?' said Tilly.
âIt died a year later. Nothing dramatic, just old age. Went to sleep and never woke up. Pretty good way to go.' Max held up his glass and said deadpan, âAlthough given the choice, I'd prefer a night with Johnny Depp.'
Jill Mansell lives with her partner and children in Bristol and writes full time. Actually, that's not true; she watches TV, eats gum drops, admires the rugby players training in the sports field behind her house, and spends hours on the Internet marveling at how many other writers have blogs. Only when she's
completely
run out of ways to procrastinate does she write.