voice was disapproving. ‘I said that she should go out. Have some fun, for goodness’ sake. It’s not as if money is the problem. Buy something lovely—meet nice people, fly off somewhere—dump that freeloader Carlo. I keep telling her, she needs to find herself a good man. I mean, it works for me—’
‘All right, all right, that’s enough, Gary,’ said a voice from somewhere deep inside the house. ‘If you’re telling my life story to the fish man again I’ll—’
Jayne Mills appeared at the bottom of the stairs. She was wearing ginger-coloured linen trousers, a fitted cream shirt, brown leather belt and matching high-heeled sandals, and looked wonderful—or at least she would have done if she hadn’t had that look in her eyes. It was the same look Jane had seen in the mirror earlier that morning. It was a look that said Jayne Mills was tired and sad and hurt, a little bit lost and lonely, and very much in need of a hug.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ said Jayne, her expression unchanging. ‘The letter opener.’
‘Yes, sorry, I’m here again.’ Jane indicated the bundle of post currently being carried by Gary.
‘And?’
‘And they’re all open.’
‘Again?’ Jayne looked her up and down and then sighed. ‘Well, I suppose it saves me the trouble. What’s your excuse this time?’
‘Emotional trauma.’
‘Really.’ Her tone was as dry as the Sahara.
‘I got the sack today.’
‘For opening other people’s mail?’
Jane shook her head ruefully. ‘No, unfortunately not. I’d be guilty as charged of that. No, for working hard, coming up with lots of good ideas and generally being liked, as far as I can make out.’
‘Ah,’ said Jayne, ‘that’ll do it every time. In my experience it’s the quickest way to get yourself sacked. Refusing to change and being a complete bastard, on the other hand, means you’re never out of work.’
‘And thirteen days, twenty-one hours and—’ Jane glanced down at her watch—‘nineteen minutes ago, I found out the guy who I thought was my happy-ever-after was sleeping with someone else. Well, actually, it was possibly more than one someone else, but you get the picture.’
Gary rolled his eyes and looked heavenwards.
‘Rough couple of weeks,’ said Jayne.
‘And the woman who got my boyfriend? She’s got my job now, too.’
‘Really? Do you fancy a coffee?’ said Jayne, taking the post from Gary and heading down towards the kitchen. For a moment Jane didn’t know whether she was talking to Gary, but when she looked at her diminutive companion, the man was making an exaggerated head gesture that indicated Jane should follow.
Jane considered for an instant and then sighed. Why not? After all, what was there to go home to? She followed Jayne into the house.
They sat out on the terrace under a white canvas sail stretched over the wooden deck. Gary brought them coffee and a tray of biscuits and then made himself scarce, except at lunchtime, when he reappeared with a tray with fresh-baked bread, creamy Brie and homemade hoummos, tomatoes and sharp green grapes, and a bottle of wine, and when Jane protested, Jayne said she could always take a taxi home or that Gary would drive her.
‘Seems an odd name for him…’ Jane began thoughtfully, watching Gary make his way back into the kitchen.
‘Gary?’ said Jayne.
Jane nodded.
‘Not if you come from Chingford. Apparently his mum was obsessed with Gary Cooper. It could have been worse,’ said Jayne, filling their glasses.
‘Yes,’ said Gary, reappearing with a bowl of olives. ‘She was a big Elvis fan too.’
So they sat in the soft shade, out of the warm summer sunshine, and talked and talked and talked, and Augustus curled around their legs and allowed himself to be fussed and adored, then curled up under the table and went to sleep.
Afterwards Jane couldn’t remember all the details of how the conversation had gone, nor quite how they got round to the idea of Jane working for Jayne, but they did.
Some things she did remember.
‘This is such a beautiful house. I’d love to live somewhere like this,’ she had said.
And Jayne had looked out over the lawn towards the lake and said, ‘I used to think that too. I’d see things and think if I had them then life would be just perfect, but it’s cost me more than you can possibly imagine. Somewhere along the way I’ve lost sight of the reason why I was doing it in the first place. I used to feel that I was building for my future and now I realise that that future was in the past and I’ve got this horrible feeling I’ve missed it.’
‘I’m sorry, but surely it’s not that bad,’ Jane had said, picking up a biscuit and snapping it in two.
‘Maybe I need a fresh start.’
‘Maybe you don’t,’ Jane laughed, and had told her all about her fresh new start and about Steve and the library.
‘I’m sorry. How old did you say you were again?’ asked Jayne.
‘I’m coming up for thirty—well, twenty-eight actually—but I want to be settled, sorted, be in love, plan. I’ve got to the point where I really don’t want to invest in something, anything, that isn’t going somewhere either in my love life or my career really.’ Jane picked up the wine glass and turned it in her fingertips; the bowl and stem looked as fine as cobweb. ‘What I really want is nice things and no worries about money.’ She sighed. ‘It sounds naïve, but I suppose I want everything and at the moment it feels like I’ve got nothing. I’ve just lost my bright shiny new future. Sorry, you don’t want to hear this. It’s self-pity and the wine talking.’
Jayne had looked wistful. ‘No, no, not at all. I remember thinking almost exactly the same thing at the same age. And I promised myself I’d never say, “When I was your age,” but when I was around your age I’d just broken up with someone I really loved and I thought, damn it, it’s now or never—I need to do something with my life. There’s no reason why I can’t have it all. I’ll have a fantastic job, a great house, all that stuff and I’ll find someone along the way who feels the same and we’ll live happily ever after.’
‘From where I’m sitting it looks like you’ve got most of it.’
Jayne sighed. ‘I know. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a great life so far. It’s just I suppose that this is one of those moments when I’m looking back at all the things I’ve done and thinking about the choices I’ve made and what might have been and what wasn’t to be.’
‘Maybe we should swap?’ said Jane jokily They were almost at the end of the bottle, all the bread had gone, the grapes reduced to a street map of stalks, and it sounded so easy. ‘You could start all over again and I could have all this.’
Jayne looked at her. ‘Are you serious?’
Jane
