'Yes, he does.'
'So he's been paying for mine all this time, as well?'
Jennie looked awkward. 'He'd hate you to make a big deal out of it. It was starting to look tatty and he asked the gardener to keep it looking neat, that's all.'
Shelley shook her head. 'No, that's not all. He's done more than that-it looks almost as good as when my mother was alive.' She sighed. If only he didn't have so many good points-like that streak of innate thoughtfulness which used to have her mother and her friends eating out of his hands.
'He must be doing well,' she observed slowly. 'To be able to afford to do all this for you. Money was tight when we were together.'
'That's one of the reasons you left him, isn't it?'
Shelley gave her a steady look. 'Is that what you think?'
Jennie shrugged. 'What were we supposed to think? You left him for a very rich man. A man you didn't really know. So obviously that was the first thing which sprang to mind.'
'Did everyone else think that, too?'
'Pretty much. Shall I pour you some tea?'
'Please.'
Jennie handed over a steaming mug and fixed Shelley with a curious look. 'But now you're back.'
'Yep.' Steam wafted up her nostrils. She waited for the inevitable question.
'Why?'
'That depends who wants to know-you or your brother?'
'I suspect that Drew's need to know is greater than mine,' said Jennie drily. 'But most other people will be curious once they find out you're back. You know what this place can be like.'
Yes, she knew. But despite the cloying drawbacks of a small town she knew something else, too, something which came straight from the heart. 'I've come back because it's my home,' she said quietly. 'It's the first place I thought of.'
Jennie looked at her shrewdly. 'I thought that home was an apartment in Milan and a villa on Lake Garda?'
The details were much too precise to masquerade as casual gossip. 'Who on earth told you that?'
'Drew did. Soon after you'd gone.'
'Drew? I didn't realise he knew. My mother must have told him, I suppose.'
Jennie shrugged. 'Even if she hadn't he would have found out anyway. Like he always says-knowledge is power.'
'Does he?' It sounded more like something Marco would say. 'I never heard him say anything like that before.'
'No, well … ' Jennie looked slightly uncomfortable. 'It's been a long time.'
'Yes.' Shelley leaned back and noticed the plastic box full of toys stuffed behind one of the sofas. And the sense of something being different which had struck her as she'd first entered at last began to make sense. 'You've got a child living here, haven't you?'
'Yes, I have. A baby, actually. My baby!' Jennie smiled with maternal pride. 'You saw the toys in the box?'
'Yes, I did, and the photo on the bureau. But I noticed something different when I first walked in. The place had that air that all houses with children in them have-of everything being tidied away while the baby's asleep! I could always tell which of Marco's friends had children and which didn't,' she added.
'Didn't he want any children of his own?'
'Not when I was with him,' answered Shelley truthfully.
'I see.' Jennie reached out for a biscuit, then changed her mind. 'I've put on too much weight recently.'
'Well, if you've just had a baby … '
'That's no excuse.'
'I suppose not.' Shelley reached for a biscuit and, meeting Jennie's eyes, shrugged. 'Your brother thinks that I could do with gaining a few pounds.'
'Well, you are terribly thin.' Jennie's stare was hard and bright. 'So is Marco off the scene for good?' she asked suddenly.
Shelley laughed, oddly refreshed by her candour. 'That's a bit of a jump from discussing babies and waist-lines!'
'Is it? I thought Marco was the love of your life. And if that was the case, didn't you want his baby?'
This question rocked her. Its intimacy jangled at her raw nerves and Shelley was acutely aware that anything she told Jennie would get straight back to Drew. And if she told the truth, wouldn't that damn her even more in their eyes? 'I'd rather not talk about Marco, if you don't mind. Tell me about your baby instead.'
Jennie beamed. 'She's eight months old and the most adorable child on the planet,' she said, getting up and taking a photo album from the sideboard. She handed it to Shelley. 'Although I recognise that I might be a little biased!'
'What's her name?'
'Ellie. Look-that one was taken just after she was born.'
'She's sweet. She's sleeping now, is she?'
Jennie shook her head. 'No. She's out for the day, with her … father.'
Shelley had been flicking through the album, but she glanced up when she heard Jennie's hesitation. 'You don't have to tell me, you know.'
'Oh, it's not a big, dark secret and I'm not ashamed of being a single mother,' said Jennie defensively. 'You know him, actually. Or you did. Remember Jamie Butler?'
Shelley nodded as she took another biscuit and bit into it. 'Of course I do. He was ahead of us at school-a few years below Drew-am I right? Always very tanned-loved boats? Blond curly hair? Good-looking?'
'That's the one,' said Jennie wistfully. 'He still loves boats, and Ellie adores him. So do I.'
It wasn't her place to pry. 'That's nice,' said Shelley evenly.
'No, it isn't nice,' disagreed Jennie mulishly. 'It's hell, if you must know.'
'Because you're no longer together, you mean?'
'We never were, not really. Not for long.' Jennie sighed. 'But he wants us to be.'
'And you don't?'
Jennie shook her head. 'Drew doesn't.'
'Drew? What the hell does it have to do with Drew?'
Jennie gave a hollow laugh. 'Everything. He's my self-appointed moral guardian, didn't you know?'
'Sounds familiar,' gritted Shelley. 'Drew knows best. Or thinks he does.'
'Exactly,' sighed his sister, briefly forgetting sibling loyalty. 'And basically he disapproves of Jamie because Jamie can't provide for me in the way that Drew thinks he should.'
'You may think this is none of my business-' Shelley took a last mouthful of tea and stood up '-but Drew is the world's biggest control freak-he always has been. And it's your life, not his. We only get one bite at the cherry-so don't let him make you live it in a way which makes you unhappy!'
'If only it were as simple as that!'
'Everything is as simple as you make it,' said Shelley fiercely. 'Believe me. If you want Jamie then you've got to fight for him.' The way she should have fought for Drew. She'd thought that for a long time afterwards until she had realised that those kind of reflections would get her precisely nowhere. She glanced at her watch. 'It's time I was going. lf the Westward won't take me-'
'Then come back!' said Jennie impulsively. 'I mean it.'
'I know you do. And thanks. Thanks for the tea, too.'
'But I'll see you again, won't I?' said Jennie. 'Once your house is habitable enough to move in. You aren't just going to take off somewhere again, are you?'
'Who knows?' said Shelley truthfully. She didn't know how living back in Milmouth would affect her. Seeing Drew some days-maybe most days. Especially if he was involved with someone …
'Does Drew have a girlfriend?' she asked Jennie suddenly, then wished she could have bitten the question back. 'I'm sorry. It isn't fair of me to ask you.'
'No, it isn't,' Jennie agreed. 'Though it's understandable. He doesn't talk about his personal life to me! Though I guess if there was something really serious going on I'd know about it.'
'But I suppose he's been out with other women since I've been away?'
Jennie looked at her in exasperation. 'It's been three years, Shelley-of course he has! Why, he still gets mail from some of the women he met when he was travelling-and you know how long ago that was!'
'You won't tell him that I wanted to know? He might take it the wrong way.' Or the right way.
Jennie shook her head. 'I can't promise not to tell him, not if he asks. He's my brother and I love him. And you hurt him, you know.'
'Yes, I know,' said Shelley. 'I'm the one who has to live with what I did.' But in the end she suspected she had hurt herself far more … 'Goodbye, Jennie,' she smiled.
But once outside there was no need to keep up the pretence and the smile fell away as she slid into her car, not switching on the engine until she had composed herself. Then she found herself revving up like a racing driver, until she remembered where she was, and she drove almost sedately up the winding cliff road towards the Westward Hotel.
The late afternoon sun was pale and golden and the tall maritime conifers which lined the coastal road leading to the hotel gave the place a very European flavour.
But Drew's words came back to haunt her as she approached the hotel. This had been where Marco had brought her. Where she, foolish girl that she had been, had sealed her fate-her head turned by expensive wine and extravagant gestures.
Yet she had passively agreed to let Drew book her a room here, without bothering to challenge his assertion that she wouldn't find one anywhere else. Was that simply because she was exhausted from travelling, or because she had always found the force of his character too much to withstand? Maybe he thought that a night at the Westward would unsettle her enough to make her leave as abruptly as she had arrived.