‘Go on then,’ she said abruptly, rising to her feet and glaring back at Guy. ‘You’re dying to do it, so sack me. Find yourself a new nanny who’ll safety-pin the children to her ankles and shoot any strangers on sight. In the meantime, I’m sure Serena would just adore to stay on for a few more weeks and look after them herself.’

Too late she remembered that Serena had been sticking up for her, although it hardly mattered now. If she was out on her ear she’d never see either of them again anyway.

As far as Serena was concerned, however, the bitter jibe was too true to be offensive. ‘I’ve got work lined up,’ she said hurriedly. ‘My agent would kill me if I tried to cancel anything now.’

Guy crossed to the drinks tray and poured himself a stiff Scotch. Part of him still wanted to kill Maxine but he was making an effort to calm down. Since even Serena had defended Maxine’s actions, he realized now that the hatred he bore his father had led him to overreact.

Maxine undoubtedly had her faults, but the fact remained that Josh and Ella adored her. And although he still didn’t have the faintest idea why his father had turned up out of the blue, they had enjoyed themselves. Josh had only been six and Ella four when Véronique had taken them to meet him and even if they dimly recalled the events of that day they clearly hadn’t connected them with this afternoon’s surprise visitor. Both children had thoroughly enjoyed themselves and Josh, who was smitten with expensive cars — not to mention crisp new bank notes — was already asking when they might see him again.

As far as Guy was concerned, ‘when hell freezes over’ was the phrase that sprang most readily to mind, but it was a reply he’d kept to himself. And he supposed that, given the circumstances, Maxine couldn’t really have been expected to refuse entry to an apparently charming relative visiting his much-loved grandchildren.

Draining his Scotch, he turned back to find Maxine, the picture of belligerence, still glaring at him. With her blond hair ruffled, she looked like an indignant parakeet.

‘Oh cheer up,’ he said with a trace of exasperation. ‘I’m not going to sack you. Just take a bit more care in future, OK? They might not be the best behaved kids in the world but they’re all I’ve got, so I’d quite like to hang on to them if I could.’

Chapter 17

It was all happening amazingly quickly. Janey, who had envisaged a wait of at least a fortnight before hearing anything back from Mr Presentable, had been caught so off-guard by his phone call that before she could gather her wits she heard herself agreeing to meet him that evening. Profoundly grateful that Paula wasn’t in the shop at the time, she added hurriedly, ‘Why don’t you wear a carnation? Then I’ll be able to recognize you.’

‘Why don’t you just look out for a tall, dark-haired man in a navy blue blazer and grey flannels?’ he countered, sounding faintly amused. ‘I’m not really the carnation-wearing type.’

‘Oh.’ Crestfallen, and on behalf of florists everywhere, Janey said, ‘Why not?’

‘Every time I put one in my buttonhole,’ he replied, ‘I find myself getting married.’

His name was Alexander Norcross and he had two ex-wives, a dark blue Porsche and a small cottage on the outskirts of Trelissick. Janey also suspected that his refusal to wear a carnation was due to the fact that it would have meant buying one.

‘No, we decided against children,’ he explained, over lukewarm coffee in a quiet bar away from the seafront which Janey had suggested because nobody she knew ever went there. ‘They cost an absolute fortune. My wives tried to make me change my mind, of course, but I wasn’t having any of it. There’s no way I could have afforded to keep the Porsche on the road and bring up kids as well.’ Leaning across the table he added confidentially, ‘So I got out each time they started hankering, before they had a chance to pull the old "Oops, how did that happen?" routine.

It isn’t as if they really wanted children, after all. They just saw their friends doing it and didn’t want to miss out. It didn’t even occur to them to consider the expense.’

It was truly astounding, thought Janey, that someone so mean with money should be so generous with his aftershave. Great wafts of Old Spice were whooshing up her nose. It even seemed to have invaded her cup of coffee, which hadn’t tasted great in the first place. She wondered how soon she could decently leave.

But meeting Alexander was an education, at least. He wasn’t bad looking, he had a nice voice and he was tall. The packaging, she decided, was as much as anyone could possibly hope for. The only let-down was the fact that it belonged to a complacent, penny-pinching bore.

But there was also the irresistible challenge of discovering just how awful he could be.

Summoning up a Maxine-ish smile and working hard not to inhale too much Old Spice, she said,

‘So has advertising been a success? I expect you’ve met lots of girls.’

‘Ah, but it’s quality that counts.’ Alexander gave her a knowing look. ‘Not quantity. I’ve found the initial telephone conversations to be revealing, Jane. All some of these females are interested in is a free meal, which is when I make my excuses. That’s why I was so interested in meeting you,’ he added happily. ‘As soon as I read your letter, I felt we had something in common. And when you suggested we meet for a quick drink, I knew I was right.’

‘Thank you,’ murmured Janey, by this time struggling to keep a straight face. ‘After all, why should people need to eat in order to get to know one another?’

‘Exactly my point!’ Alexander looked positively triumphant. Finishing his cold coffee, he pushed the cup and saucer an inch or two in her direction. ‘And when you consider the ridiculous prices restaurants charge for an omelette ... well, I call it money down the drain. I’d rather stay at home and know I wasn’t being ripped off. How about you Jane?’ he added, gazing at her with renewed interest and approval. ‘Do you cook?’

Thanking her lucky stars she hadn’t pinned all her hopes on Alexander Norcross, Janey was longing to tell someone the story of the brief encounter which - bizarrely - had gone some way towards restoring her own self-confidence.

‘It was so ghastly it ended up being funny,’ she said to Bruno the following morning, grinning as she recalled the way Alexander had complained to the bar manager about the price of a cup of coffee. ‘He was so awful, but he really thought he was Britain’s answer to Mel Gibson.

If you could have seen the look on his face when I said I wouldn’t be seeing him again—’

Was he handsome?’

‘Oh yes, but such a jerk! When I got back to the flat I was dying to phone Maxine to give her all the gory details, but I’d already decided not to tell her anything about answering the ad. I shouldn’t be telling you, either.’ Janey tried to look repentant, and failed. ‘You’re just as likely to make fun of me as she is. But it was funny, and I had to tell someone.’

‘It certainly seems to have cheered you up,’ remarked Bruno, inwardly appalled that she should have been driven to reply to a newspaper advert in the first place. ‘But Janey, aren’t you taking a bit of a risk? You don’t need to do that kind of thing. A gorgeous girl like you could take her pick of men.’

Colouring at the compliment, even if it was only Bruno saying what he would no doubt say to anyone under the age of ninety, she resorted to flippancy. ‘Yes, well. The neighbours were starting to complain about the queues outside my front door so ‘I thought I’d try going about it another way.’

‘Hmm.’ Bruno, who wasn’t stupid, surveyed her through narrowed eyes. ‘Or does it have something to do with that noisy, pushy sister of yours?’

Janey could have hugged him. She’d been so sure he would be entranced by Maxine. Her self-confidence rose by yet another notch. ‘Not at all,’ she lied, relaxing visibly but still not quite daring to admit that she’d placed an advertisement of her own. ‘I just thought I’d give it a go. It didn’t work out. End of story.’

‘I should bloody well hope so.’ Bruno glanced at his watch and saw that he’d have to get a move on if they were to open for lunch. Janey was gorgeous, he thought. She deserved a hell of a lot better than a guy with a Porsche and a padlocked wallet. ‘Look, I could get away early tonight.’ As he spoke, he began unpacking the box of flowers she had brought to the restaurant, pink carnations and sweet-smelling lilac today to match the new tablecloths. ‘If you aren’t doing anything, why don’t we go out for something to eat?’

‘Oh!’ Janey looked astonished. After a moment’s hesitation, she said, ‘But this is your restaurant. Shouldn’t we eat here?’

‘That would make it business.’ Bruno gave her one of his most irresistible smiles. ‘What I had in mind was pleasure.’

‘But you’re—’

‘I’m not married,’ he reminded her. ‘And I don’t argue with bar managers about the price of coffee, either.’

‘But—’

‘No more excuses,’ said Bruno, his tone firm. ‘I’ll pick you up at ten.’

‘Oh, but—’ said Janey, torn between delight and the hideous prospect of having to get up at five o’clock tomorrow morning.

‘Stop it,’ said Bruno, very firmly indeed. ‘It’ll be fun.’ Then he winked. ‘Besides, better the devil you know ...’

The drawback to being picked up at ten o’clock in the evening was that it left one with far too much time to get ready. Instead of flinging on the first decent thing that came to hand, Janey found herself racked with indecision. None of the more casual skirts and tee-shirts she wore for work would do; Bruno had seen them all a hundred times. The black sequinned dress was wonderfully slimming but it would be way over the top, and the only other really decent outfit she owned, a violet crêpe-de-Chine affair with no back and swirly skirts, made her look like something out of Come Dancing.