had very good reason for thinking otherwise. And, in all fairness to her mother, Mattie thought, perhaps she ought to tell her what those reasons were.
‘So natural and friendly, despite his obvious wealth. No side to him, as your grandfather would have said,’ Diana added affectionately. ‘Anyway, he’s booked Harry in for four days over the Easter holiday, so we’re almost fully booked up now for that period. I have to admit—Mattie, what is it?’ She suddenly seemed to become aware of her daughter’s less-than-enthusiastic expression.
Confirming that Mattie looked as sick as she felt! Because only an hour ago she had been describing that charming man in a totally different way to her mother. Not that Mattie went back on one single thing she had previously said about Jack Beauchamp, she just knew she wouldn’t be able to leave her mother in ignorance as to his identity.
She drew in a deep breath. ‘I had no idea you pronounced the name Beauchamp as Beecham,’ she began slowly. ‘If I had I—well, I—’ She would have what? No matter how you pronounced the man’s name, he was still everything she had said he was; not only did he have four girlfriends that she already knew about, but it turned out he had a family of his own too!
‘Mattie …?’ Her mother frowned at her suspiciously. ‘Mattie, what have you done?’ she prompted warily.
‘Done?’ Mattie repeated, her voice slightly higher than usual, then clearing her throat to bring it down in tone. ‘What makes you think I’ve done something?’ she said over-brightly, deciding that coming clean to her mother wasn’t going to be easy to do, after all.
‘Because I know you too well, Mattie,’ her mother admitted worriedly. ‘I also know that you’ve been getting into one scrape or another all your life … What does it matter how you pronounce Jack Beauchamp’s name?’ she asked slowly.
It mattered a lot when you glanced in your mother’s appointment book for today and saw no connection between the name Jack Beecham—her mother had obviously spelt the name as it had been spoken to her over the telephone—and Jonathan Beauchamp, of JB Industries!
‘It doesn’t,’ she sighed. ‘Not really. But— Oh, Mum, you’re right; I’ve done something awful!’ She gave a pained grimace.
And when Jack Beauchamp found out exactly what it was she had done he was unlikely to bring his dog anywhere near her mother’s boarding-kennels!
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ her mother pressed gently, accustomed over the years to her daughter’s acts of impetuosity—followed by Mattie’s inevitable feelings of regret.
Talking about it was the very last thing Mattie wanted to do! But she really didn’t have a choice in this case. ‘I suppose I’ll have to.’ She sighed heavily.
‘Does it merit coffee or hot chocolate?’ her mother probed; in the past, coffee had always been chosen for a minor indiscretion, hot chocolate for a really major one!
Mattie looked forlorn. ‘In all honesty, I think this one may call for a glass of whisky!’
Her mother’s blonde brows rose almost to her hairline; none of Mattie’s confessions had ever merited whisky before! But over the years there had certainly been a lot of them; more often than not the impulsive Mattie acted first and thought later. This definitely sounded like one of those occasions.
‘Back to the house, I think,’ her mother decided ruefully.
Mattie followed reluctantly, knowing the next few minutes were going to be far from pleasant. Not least because she now suspected her mother might have been right in her initial summing up of the situation. Mattie probably had overreacted to Jonathan Beauchamp—because of the two-timing Richard!
Not that she had changed her mind about Jonathan Beauchamp’s behaviour—not in the least!—but maybe she wouldn’t have done quite what she had done if it weren’t for her own humiliating experience where Richard had been concerned.
Her mother made them both tea rather than the suggested whisky, the two of them sitting down at the table in their cluttered but comfortable kitchen, four dogs milling affectionately around their feet.
‘Well, Matilda-May?’ her mother prompted after several minutes of Mattie sitting staring broodingly into her teacup.
Mattie winced at the use of her full name. ‘I wish you wouldn’t call me that,’ she protested. ‘In fact, I think it was very unkind of you to name me that at all. Just because your mother was named Matilda, and Dad’s was called May, was really no reason—’
‘Mattie, you can delay this as long as you like,’ her mother cut in crisply, ‘but in the end you’re still going to have to tell me what it is you’ve done,’ she reasoned.
Mattie swallowed hard, sighing deeply before speaking. ‘You remember the womaniser?’
‘The woma—? Oh, you mean the man you were telling me about earlier, the one who has four girlfriends?’ her mother recalled.
‘That’s the one,’ Mattie confirmed awkwardly. ‘Well, Jack Beauchamp is Jonathan Beauchamp!’ she burst out. ‘Him. It. He’s the womaniser!’ she revealed reluctantly. ‘What I mean is—’
‘I think I get your drift, Mattie,’ her mother acknowledged dryly. ‘He’s the man you were so angry about earlier today? The man whose secretary placed his order with you yesterday to send out four bouquets to his numerous girlfriends?’
Mattie took a quick swallow of her tea, burning her mouth in the process. But, in the circumstances, she decided, she probably deserved the discomfort!
How could she have been so stupid? So unprofessional? At the time she had thought she was being so clever; having now met Jack Beauchamp she had no idea how he was going to react to what she had done. But she could probably take a pretty good guess …!
So much for her own job of running a successful florists, for some lucrative contracts she also had to service the plants and greenery at half a dozen office complexes—JB Industries being one of them. And Jack Beauchamp was JB Industries!
If he decided to turn nasty over what she had done, she might just find herself losing all of those contracts, and the florist’s shop too! As for her mother being allowed to look after the man’s dog—!
‘Yes,’ Mattie confirmed flatly.
‘But you dealt with his order, didn’t you?’ Her mother looked puzzled.
‘Oh, I dealt with it, all right,’ Mattie agreed, giving another wince at what else she had done. ‘You see, I had delivered four bouquets for him to those four women at Christmas—’
‘I suppose that shows he’s been involved with the same four women for the last four months at least,’ her mother reasoned.
‘The thing is,’ Mattie began reluctantly, ‘his secretary gave me the order, and he—he had already written out four cards to go with each bouquet. And I—Mum—I changed the cards around!’ she admitted guiltily, utterly dismayed herself now to realize exactly what she had done.
She was twenty-three years old; it was high time she stopped doing things like this!
‘And he wasn’t even original,’
