Then again, it wasn't as if he was interested in her, so it hardly counted.
In fact, after three days and nights of him being here in Stanton Langley, she had a sneaking suspicion that the person Eddie Tessler might be romantically interested in was Lily.
Chapter 12
Sometimes, how you react to something unexpected depends entirely on the kind of day you've been having.
For Declan Madison, not for any one big reason but thanks to several small ones, it hadn't been a good day. Ridiculous traffic in central London had resulted in him being late for an important meeting. Then, returning after the meeting to his car, he'd found a deep scratch along the passenger-side panel. Two hours later, following another appointment that had run over by five minutes, he'd picked up a parking ticket.
Now, all he really wanted to do upon arriving home was sit down and relax, order a takeaway and watch a bit of mindless TV.
Except that wasn't going to happen, because Gail had organised one of her dinner parties and it was being held here in his house, which meant he was going to have to be polite to four other couples, who would spend the evening quizzing him about property prices and competing to show off about their holidays, their cars and everything else they'd achieved in their wonderful lives.
Because Gail's friends were drawn from a group Declan privately referred to as the Perfects. The women tended to be thin and brittle, the men paunchy and rich. They attended charitable events, but mainly for the purpose of being seen to be charitable; there didn't appear to be much genuine concern for those whose lives were less wonderful than their own.
Anyway, nothing he could do about it now; downstairs was a hive of activity as the caterers prepared the meal and Gail oversaw the table arrangements.
‘Darling, you're late, you need to go and get changed.' She pointed upstairs when she saw Declan in the hallway. ‘Drinks at seven thirty. I need you down here by quarter past.'
‘Fine.' He collected up the little pile of post waiting for him on the hall table. ‘What are we having?'
‘Smoked trout salad. And fillet of pork with Dijon sauce.'
Dijon sauce. Declan suppressed a sigh. He wasn't keen on mustard.
Upstairs, he kicked off his shoes and threw himself on to the bed. He was very fond of Gail, and she had some great qualities, but her enthusiasm for arranging dinner parties wasn't one of them. What would she do if he fell asleep and didn't appear?
OK, he already knew the answer to that question.
He sifted through the post, arranging the envelopes in order of interest. Bill … bank statement … yet another parking fine … car brochure … and finally something in a proper envelope with handwriting on the front.
Actual handwritten handwriting, at that.
He tore it open, mildly intrigued; who even sent letters, these days, written by hand?
Well, this person, evidently. He unfolded the good-quality sheets of pale green writing paper and took an instinctive liking to whoever's handwriting it was.
The next moment a name jumped out at him and his heart did a double beat. What? Jo? But how could the letter be from her, when it wasn't her writing?
And then he began to read.
Dear Declan,
Hello, you don't know me but I hope I'm sending this to the right person. My name is Lily Harper and I'm the daughter of Jo Harper. OK, I'm just going to assume you're the right Declan Madison and ask if you remember my mum. Do you? Back when you were both eighteen and working in Barcelona? Oh I do hope you do, because you meant so much to her. I'd hate to think you'd forgotten.
So anyway, the sad news is that Mum died a while ago now. Seventeen years, in fact. And I know you broke up and lost touch when you were twenty, so you must be wondering why on earth I'm writing to you now. The thing is, it was my twenty-fifth birthday a couple of days ago, and Mum left a letter for me to open. (She always has done, every year, but this is the last one.) In it, she mentioned your surname for the first time, which is how I was able to look you up. She also told me you were the love of her life. And she gave me her most treasured possession, a silver bangle that you'd given to her. I wonder if you remember that too? I'm wearing it now!
I hope you don't mind me writing to you out of the blue like this. I was brought up by Mum's fantastic best friend Coral and her late husband Nick, and have had a very happy life, living and working here in Stanton Langley, but would love to know more about my mum if you have any stories you'd be happy to share with me. You can email, or I'd be happy to come to London if you'd like to meet up. Whichever you prefer.
It would be so great to meet you, but if for any reason you don't want to be in touch, could you drop me an email just to let me know? Otherwise I'll be waiting forever, wondering if this letter ever reached you!
Best wishes and many thanks,
Lily Harper X
Declan read the letter twice more, his pulse racing each time he got to the bit telling him Jo was dead. Had been dead for so long. No wonder he'd never managed to trace her. He'd assumed it was because she'd married and was now using another surname. But it wasn't for that reason at all; it was because she was no longer alive.
He felt winded. It wasn't the kind of letter you ever expected to receive. It was a lot to take-
‘Oh for heaven's sake, what are you doing?' The bedroom door had been flung open and Gail was staring at him in disbelief.
‘I needed to go through the post.' Declan indicated the discarded envelopes littering the bed.
‘Never mind about the post, you haven't even had your shower yet! Everyone's going to be here in ten minutes!'
He held up the sheets of writing paper. ‘I've had a letter from the daughter of an old friend.'
‘Declan, what am I, the invisible woman? Listen to me! You need to get ready now.'
Gail got a bit high-pitched when she was stressed, and at the moment she was both. Now clearly wasn't the time to be telling her about Jo. Refolding the letter, Declan swung his legs off the bed and said, ‘Give me eight minutes and I'll be down.'
Chapter 13
It was seven o'clock on Saturday evening, and Patsy had just burst out laughing at something Eddie had said when the doorbell shrilled.
By now they'd developed an efficient routine. The stairs and upstairs landing were too creaky and would instantly give away the fact that someone else was there. Far simpler to just keep out of sight until Patsy had got rid of whoever it was. Eddie rose to his feet, collected up his dinner plate and wine glass, and disappeared, as silent as a ghost, into the kitchen.
Patsy pulled open her front door. ‘Oh hi!' she said when she saw who was standing on the doorstep.
Her ex-husband.
And his new husband.
Sean and Will.
‘Hey, how are you doing?' Sean greeted her with a brief kiss on the cheek. ‘OK if we come in?'
‘Um, well … '
‘Not for long. Just a few minutes.'
‘Actually, I'm a bit pushed for time.' Patsy did an ostentatious watch-check, the effect somewhat spoiled by the discovery that she'd left her watch in the kitchen.
‘Me too, I have to get over to the pub. But there's something we wanted to say. Come on.' Sean guided her gently backwards into the cottage. ‘Five minutes and we'll leave you in peace.'
Will and Sean, the happiest couple she knew. Patsy perched on the arm of the chair by the fireplace and they sat on the sofa opposite. Sean was wearing a charcoal-grey polo shirt and black trousers that showed off his broad, muscular physique. Will had changed out of the clothes he wore in the salon into a black T-shirt and jeans; since it was Saturday, he'd be heading off to a training session at his beloved boxing club.
‘Right, so what's this about?' She definitely wasn't going to offer them a drink.
‘OK, straight to the point.' Sean leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees, fingers loosely clasped together. ‘You want a baby. Time could be running out. If you decide you'd like to go ahead and have one … well, just so you know, I'd be happy to volunteer to be the … donor.'
Patsy sat back, her eyes widening in disbelief. Wow. Whatever she'd been expecting him to come out with, it hadn't been that.
Finally she said, ‘What's brought this on?'
He shrugged. ‘It's an offer. An idea, that's all. Something to think about.'
It was certainly that.
‘I see you at work,' Will joined in. ‘Like yesterday, when you were looking at Ella. I hear all the things people say to you, and the jokes they make about you not being able to find yourself a man. And you laugh it off, pretend it doesn't hurt.' He paused. ‘But it does hurt. You know that, and we both know it too.'