She was going to the party and she was ready for anything.

Except maybe water-skiing at dawn, she thought ruefully. At least, not in this dress . . .

Chapter 25

The restaurant had been transformed. Tonight, minus its twenty-five tables, with wild music pulsating from loudspeakers and the lighting subdued, it looked more like a nightclub. And although it wasn’t yet ten o’clock the place was already heaving with glamorous bodies intent on having a fabulous time.

Bruno, wearing a new, raspberry-pink silk shirt, monopolized what was now the dance floor. With a bottle of Remy Martin in one hand and a fetchingly dishevelled brunette in the other, he was performing the lambada and simultaneously carrying on a shouted conversation with a tall blond actor, star of a long-running series of coffee commercials. Watching him as he laughed, joked and didn’t miss so much as a single move of the complicated dance, Janey realized that this was Bruno’s speciality; here, as if she needed it, was yet another example of his ability to have it all. He wanted to dance and he enjoyed talking to his friends, so why waste time doing first one thing, then the other? And when he liked two women, why miss out, she thought bitterly. Why not have both?

Gazing around, she realized she couldn’t see Nina anywhere. All the women were amazingly done-up, there wasn’t a shred of sprigged Laura Ashley cotton in sight.

The next moment, in mid-gyration, Bruno saw her. Whispering something in the giggling brunette’s ear, he pressed the bottle of cognac against her cleavage and turned her in the direction of the actor. As he made his way over to Janey she felt the familiar tug of longing in the pit of her stomach. The man was a liar and a cheat but sexual attraction didn’t automatically evaporate into thin air. Willing herself to overcome it, she returned his welcoming grin with a brief smile and urged herself to remain in control. She supposed she ought to feel honoured that he had abandoned the brunette in order to come and see her instead.

‘Janey, you look incredible! Mmm, and you smell of peaches ...’

As she submitted awkwardly to his embrace, Bruno murmured, ‘Sweetheart, relax. It’s my birthday; I’m expected to kiss my guests.’

‘Here’s your card.’ Taking a step backwards, she pulled it from her bag. Then, eyeing the table stacked with elaborately wrapped gifts she added, ‘I didn’t buy you a present.’

‘Don’t worry, you can give it to me later.’ Bruno winked. ‘Upstairs.’

He simply didn’t care, thought Janey. He wasn’t even bothering to lower his voice. Taking another step back, she flinched as her high heel landed on someone else’s foot. Behind her, more and more guests were arriving, piling in through the double doors like customers on the first day of Harrods’ sale. The stifling, perfumed heat combined with the green and gold decor gave the place a jungle atmosphere. Over to her left a tall woman screeched with laughter like a parrot.

The place was noisy and chaotic but Bruno, she thought crossly, shouldn’t assume he couldn’t be overheard.

‘... absolutely gorgeous,’ he continued, sliding an appreciative forefinger along her exposed collarbone. ‘Janey, you should do yourself up like this more often. I can hardly wait to unwrap you. Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to—’

He was, Janey realized, well on the way to getting drunk. She hadn’t seen him like this before. Removing his hand from her shoulder before it could weasel its way anywhere embarrassing, she said abruptly, ‘Where’s Nina?’

‘Nina?’ Bruno laughed. ‘Do I know a Nina? Come on sweetheart, make my day. Tell me you’re wearing stockings underneath that delicious dress.’

‘Don’t be stupid.’ Trying to sound brisk, Janey slapped away the errant hand now threatening to slide down her thigh. ‘Where is she?’

‘I say, you sound just like my old headmistress.’ Bruno gazed at her in admiration. ‘Now there’s an idea.’

‘Where is Nina?’ repeated Janey, loudly enough for those around her to hear. People were beginning to stare. ‘I need to speak to her.’

‘Her grandmother’s been taken ill.’ He grinned once more, totally unrepentant. ‘She was rushed into hospital this morning. Nina’s gone up to Berkshire to see her. She won’t be back until tomorrow night at the earliest.’ So that was why he wasn’t bothering to be discreet, thought Janey. Feeling sorry for Nina she said, ‘Is it anything serious?’

‘Chronic affluence.’ Bruno helped himself to a glass of pink champagne from the table behind her and raised it in mock salute. ‘Dear old Granny Bentley. Seriously wealthy and ninety-three to boot. Well past her sell-by date, wouldn’t you say?’

At first Janey didn’t say anything at all. At that moment her task became easier. To Bruno it had simply been a flip one-liner, but as far as she was concerned it was downright cruel. And wonderfully, miraculously off-putting.

‘My grandmother is ninety-four,’ she lied, her tone icy. ‘Maybe you think she’s past her sell-by date, too.’

André Covel, who owned the hugely successful surf shop where Alan had spent most of Janey’s hard-earned money, and who had been a particular friend of his, refilled Janey’s glass with white wine. Glancing across at Bruno, who was now back on the dance floor with the stunning Italian wife of a well-known rock singer, he raised his sun-bleached eyebrows and said,

‘You seem to know Bruno rather well. Anything going on that I should be told about?’

Definitely not, thought Janey with a suppressed shudder. She liked André but he was the most appalling gossip. And he knew everyone .. .

‘No.’ She made it sound as if the idea was an amusing one, because anything the least hit emphatic would only bring out the Sherlock Holmes in him. ‘Not my type, thanks.’

‘Bruno?’ Jan, André’s girl friend, had been only half listening. With a giggle she said,

‘Everyone’s his type, though, lecherous old sod! D’you know, last Christmas he tried to seduce me in the kitchen of this very restaurant? It was right at the end of the evening but there were still three tables of customers out here. Bruno invited me through to the back to see his Sabatier knives and told the washer-up to take a ten-minute coffee break. I told Bruno to take a running bloody jump,’ she declared with pride. ‘I mean to say, ten minutes!’

Bruno’s reputation was evidently common knowledge. Janey, who had never known of it until now, realized that she simply hadn’t been mixing in the right circles. Gossip, it appeared, had its uses after all.

But anger and humiliation churned inside her. She just wished she could have had this conversation six weeks ago, before falling blindly into Bruno’s arms and kidding herself that it was love.

‘That’s nothing,’ André was saying, oblivious to the effect his revelations were having. As he offered Janey a cigarette, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Remember Natasha, the blonde with the tattoo on her bum who came to work for me last year? Bruno had an affair with her mother. Fifty years old and the manageress of that building society in Pink Street. She was totally besotted with him, apparently. Natasha said she only just managed to persuade her not to have a face lift.’

‘Fifty!’ squealed Jan, who was twenty-four. ‘Practically old enough to be his mother. Yuk, totally gross.’

Janey had heard more than enough for one night. The white wine wasn’t going down too well; her stomach felt like a nest of snakes. Moving away in search of food, hoping it might help, she found Nick and Tony, the antique dealers from next door, who were admiring the splendid buffet. Tony, wearing a magenta cravat and a new, extremely glossy toupee in a startling shade of chestnut, was piling his plate with scampi tails and endive salad. Nick, who had been greedily envying the whole fresh salmon, slipped his arm around Janey’s waist and gave her a welcoming peck on the cheek. He smelled of Penhaligon’s cologne and garlic, and Janey smiled because at least it was safe to assume that neither of them had ever slept with Bruno. They were devoted entirely to each other.

‘Here you are, my darling. Teeny Cornish potatoes coated in breadcrumbs, deep-fried and rolled in garlic butter.’ Nick popped one into her mouth, selected another for himself and rolled his eyes in appreciation. ‘Sheer heaven. Better than sex.’

‘Lovely,’ agreed Janey, when she had swallowed. With a grin she added, ‘So Bruno hasn’t thrown you out yet.’

‘Too busy philandering,’ Nick remarked, with a nod in Bruno’s direction. Following his gaze, Janey saw that Bruno and a blonde appeared to be playing pass-the-orange without the orange.

‘Bless him,’ said Tony with an indulgent smile. ‘He works hard; he’s just letting off steam.

If you can’t philander on your birthday, when can you?’

According to André, Bruno had been doing it day in, day out throughout most of his adult life. He practically made a career out of it. Reminded once more of her own gullibility, she said,

‘He’s getting too old to be a philanderer. Before long he’s not going to find it so easy to impress the girls.’

‘Ah, but he has charm,’ Tony observed through a mouthful of salmon. ‘Charisma. Mark my words, that boy will always get by.’

Nick and Tony adored Bruno. Janey couldn’t decide which was the most painful, being regaled with Andres scurrilous gossip or having to endure this paeon of praise. Belatedly, she wished Maxine could have been here with her tonight. Maxine, who didn’t yet know the sordid truth, had sensed instinctively what Bruno was really like and had tried to warn her away from him.