Rumor Has It (19 page)

    Under present circumstances, Tilly didn't feel it would be fair to point out the irony of being lectured on the subject of men by someone whose husband of ten years had turned out to be gay. But Kaye was trying to help, and she instinctively liked her.

    'Promise?' Kaye waved the wine bottle, ready to top up their glasses.

    'Promise.' Mischievously, Tilly said, 'He must be pretty good though.'

    'Oh, he is.'

    Excuse me?

    
What?

    Tilly opened her mouth to ask if that meant what she thought it meant, but Kaye was busy scraping back her chair, jumping up, and tipping Betty off her lap. The beam of headlights swung across the kitchen and gravel crunched under the wheels of the car as it drew to a halt on the driveway. Max and Lou were back.

    Opening the front door, Tilly said, 'Well? How did it go?'

    'Fantastic.' Max was on a high. 'Bloody brilliant, you should have come with us.'

    'Lou?'

    Lou rolled her eyes and said dutifully, 'It was fantastic, bloody brilliant.'

    'Language,' said Max.

    'OK, it was better than having to sit down and read Shakespeare from a book. But only just.'

    'Never mind.' Tilly gave her a consoling hug. 'Come on into the kitchen. I've got a surprise for you.'

    Lou brightened. 'Did you make marshmallow cake?'

    'That's it, I give up. Take her to see a world-class performance by the RSC and the only thing to cheer her up is flaming marshmallow cake.'

'Except I haven't made one,' said Tilly. 'It's better than that.'

    At least, she hoped it was good news. Because it had only just occurred to her that if Kaye moved back to Roxborough for good, Max might decide he no longer required the services of a Girl Friday and she could find herself out of a job.

ELEVEN O'CLOCK ON SATURDAY morning and Jack was on the door step. For a mad moment Tilly fantasized that he'd come to grab her, bundle her back to his house, and finish what they had been so tan talizingly close to starting last night before they'd been interrupted.

    But no, that would be too much to hope for. Plus, Lou might have something to say about it.

    'Yay, you're early!' Skidding up to the front door in her polka dotted socks, she cannoned into Tilly before Jack had a chance to open his mouth. 'Mum's nearly ready. And I'm coming with you to make sure you don't fob her off with a hovel. I'll go up and tell her you're here.'

    'Just sometimes,' Jack remarked as Lou scooted upstairs, 'you wish she had a mute button.'

    'She's excited about having her mum back.' Curiously, Tilly said, 'So what's happening?'

    He followed her into the kitchen, pinched the still-warm crois sant from Lou's plate and added extra butter. 'Kaye rang me an hour ago. She wants a place of her own while she's over here and I've got a couple of properties free at the moment. Easier for her.' Jack shrugged. 'She can use one until she decides what she wants to do next.'

    'Nice of you.'

    He half smiled. 'I have my moments. I told you, I can be nice when I want to be.'

    He was wearing that aftershave again. Tilly wrestled with staying super-casual but she longed to ask the question that was crashing around inside her head. Any minute now, Lou might be back or Max could walk in or Kaye might come rushing downstairs and the opportunity would be—

    'Woof!' Betty came trotting into the kitchen with a purposeful air and waited impatiently by the side door.

    Oh Betty.

    'Want to go out?' Jack started to move towards her but Tilly beat him to it, because if he waited outside for Betty to select a suit able patch of grass and do her wee she'd definitely miss her chance. She hastily unlocked the kitchen door and shooed Betty out, then promptly closed it behind her.

    Jack looked surprised. 'She'll be scratching to come back in again in a minute.'

    'Can I ask you something?'

    He raised an eyebrow. 'Fire away.'

    Oh help, and now she couldn't bring herself to say it. It was too much, too personal. Even if it would be a whole lot easier all round to know the answer, particularly now that Kaye was back in Roxborough for the foreseeable future.

    She braced herself. 'Are you…'

    'Am I what?' Jack looked mystified. 'A vegetarian? Fond of flower arranging? In favor of capital punishment?'

    Tilly felt her face heat up. What if she'd got completely the wrong end of the stick last night about him and Kaye?

    'Am I still a virgin? Is that it?' Still guessing away, Jack said cheerfully, 'What did I tell you yesterday? I never discuss my sex life.'

    He had indeed said that. Which pretty much meant there was no point in asking the question. Tilly exhaled slowly. The next moment, as if on cue, Betty scratched at the door to be let back in. This time Jack did the honors. Then Lou erupted back into the kitchen and let out a squeak of protest at the sight of her empty plate.

    'Who's had my croissant?'

    'That was Tilly,' said Jack.

Out of the two vacant properties, a huge unfurnished first-floor flat over in Cirencester and a small but charmingly furnished cottage in Roxborough, Kaye had gone for the cottage.

    'I like it,' said Tilly when they went over to see the place on Monday afternoon.

    'Small but perfectly formed.' Kaye gazed with satisfaction around the living room. 'Bijou. Compact. But handy for the shops and close to home. Well,' she amended, 'close to
your
home.'

    That you could walk it in ten minutes was a definite bonus now that Kaye had lost confidence in her ability to drive and was refusing to get back behind the wheel.

    'You could have stayed with us,' Tilly pointed out. 'Like Max said. And you know he meant it; he wasn't just being polite.'

    'And we all know that's true, because Max is never polite.' Grinning, Kaye shook her head. 'It's OK, best not to. I could be around for months. Anyhow, I'll be fine here. Stay separate, stay friends, always the best way.' She seized the suitcase and said, 'Want to give me a hand with this?'

    Upstairs in the only bedroom, they took out the bed linen bor rowed from the airing cupboard at Beech House and made up the double bed.

    'Not that I need a double.' Kaye pulled a face as they wrestled with the corners of the dark blue sheet. 'I've been living like a nun for the last two years, and that was before I started murdering small defenseless animals.'

    Tilly's mouth went dry. Anyone with manners and an iota of decorum wouldn't dream of asking the question she was about to blurt out, but not knowing the answer was killing her.

    'I mean, if I thought I had trouble bagging a man before, then imagine the fun I'm going to have trying to find one now!'

    'Can I ask you something really personal?'

    Pausing in mid-hospital corner, Kaye regarded her with amuse ment. 'About my tragically nonexistent sex life?'

    'Well, kind of. About something you said the other night.' Tilly felt her heart thudding very fast against her ribcage. 'When I made a jokey remark about how, um, Jack must be great in bed.'

    Kaye's hair swung to one side as she tilted her head. 'And?'

    Oh God, was she offended? Was she going to be as infuriatingly discreet as Jack? Why did people have to
be
discreet when it was so annoying? 'Well, and you said he was.'

    'Uh huh.' An enigmatic nod.

    Oh well, she'd come this far. Tilly said, 'So does that mean you and Jack…?'

    Kaye's eyes sparkled. 'Did it? Slept together? That kind of thing?'

    Oh, the shame. Tilly shrugged and said, 'Pretty much. Sorry.'

    'No problem. Yes, we did. And he was. Great, I mean. In every way.'

    'Gosh.' Now Tilly really didn't know what to say. 'I didn't realize.'

    'And now you're thinking what a racy crowd we are down here, wives jumping into bed with their husband's best friends, and you're wondering if we had a relationship.' Half smiling, Kaye abandoned the bed-making and sat down, patting the mattress next to her. 'It's OK, I'd be curious too. And no, it wasn't a relationship. More like therapy. Max and I were no longer a couple. Logically I knew it wasn't my fault, but mentally I was at rock bottom. My husband was gay and, let me tell you, that doesn't do wonders for your ego. I lost all my self-confidence. I'd never felt so physically unattractive, so completely undesirable.'

'But—'

    'I know it doesn't make sense, but it's how I felt. Like I was such a turn-off Max would rather sleep with a man than me. It was devastating. And poor Max, he felt terrible about it too. It was killing him, seeing me so upset. Then one night I got into a bit of a state— well, quite a lot of a state, actually. And I ended up yelling at him that I was going to go out and pick up a complete stranger and have sex. I just wanted to hurt Max, make him realize how betrayed I felt. Anyway, I followed that up by bursting into tears and saying nobody would want to have sex with me anyway because I was such a hideous turn-off.' Kaye paused, shrugged. 'And a week later, I ended up in bed with Jack.'

    Tilly digested this. 'You mean you went out and picked him up, instead of a stranger. You
chose
him.'

    'No, we just met up for a drink and a chat, and it went on from there. It was really nice and really natural, the way it happened. But you know something? I've never worked out if it was Max's idea. And neither of them have ever told me.'

    'You think Max could have asked Jack to do it?'

    'I think it's a possibility. Partly because I don't believe Jack would have gone ahead and done it without Max at least hinting that it might be a good thing. Oh, who knows? Anyway, it happened.' Kaye was unrepentant. 'And it did the trick. Jack was wonderful and he made me feel normal again. He gave me back my self-esteem. I owe him so much for that. Talk about a night you'll never forget.'

    Phew. 'But… didn't you wish it could have been more?'

    'Honestly? No, I didn't. Because Jack and I had been such good friends for so long, it would just never happen. We both knew that. The spark wasn't there, it simply didn't exist. We had fabulous sex, but that was all. And afterwards we were able to go back to being just friends again. Maybe that sounds weird,' said Kaye, 'but it's the truth.'

    From the simple shrug of her shoulders Tilly could tell she meant it. Crikey, fancy that.

    'And did you ever tell Max?'

    Kaye smiled. 'I just said I'd stayed over at Jack's house. Max knew. I didn't need to draw a diagram.'

    Doing her best not to visualize the diagram, Tilly quelled a stab of envy. Kaye's might not have been the standard reaction of a woman whose husband announces he's gay, but theirs had been an amicable divorce, so who was to say it hadn't been the right thing to do?

    If it works, don't knock it.

    And don't knock it till you've tried it.

    Except she hadn't had the chance to try it, had she? Because Kaye had turned up the other evening like the celibacy fairy to stop it happening.

    Oh well, it was probably for the best.

KAYE'S MOBILE BEGAN TO ring as they arrived at Harleston Hall at four o'clock to pick up Lou. The name of the caller flashed up on screen.

    'It's my agent,' said Kaye. 'Maybe Charlene's admitted she lied and everyone loves me again. Or Francis Ford Coppola's desperate to have me in his next movie starring alongside George Clooney… ooh, maybe Francis isn't sure but George is refusing to do it without me.'

    'Yes, it'll definitely be that.'

    Oh well, just a thought. Back in the real world, Kaye answered the phone. 'Maggie, hi! Has America stopped sending me to Coventry yet?'

    'Is that meant to be some kind of joke?' Maggie was notoriously suspicious of the British sense of humor.

    'Sorry. Any news?'

    'Charlene's still flogging her story. She's seeing a grief therapist now. And she's hired some pet sculptor to produce a six-foot marble statue of the damn dog.'

    A six-foot statue of Babylamb. Scary.

    'Any happier news? Like maybe someone wants to give me a job?'

    Maggie didn't find this amusing either. Not even a hint of her usual wheezy sixty-a-day chuckle. Then again, when a client sud denly stopped making you money, what was there to laugh about?

    'Nobody wants to employ you, Kaye. Just stay over in England for now, keep your head down, and try to stay out of trouble. Maybe do a little charity work. Or get yourself snapped coming out of an AA meeting, that might be an idea. But don't go giving any inter views. Keep a low profile.'

    'That won't be a problem.' Her level of celebrity over here was far lower than in the States, thank God, and Roxborough wasn't exactly crawling with journalists. 'So… um, why did you call?'

    'Just to tell you that a delivery arrived here for you yesterday. Some guy sent you flowers. Pretty decent ones too. About six hundred dollars' worth, at a guess. And a box of chocolates. Godiva, or some such.'

    'Godiva chocolates?' Five thousand miles away, Kaye's stomach did a little Pavlovian jig of delight. 'I love Godiva chocolates! Who sent them?' Was it possible that George Clooney had somehow guessed that this was the way to her heart?