And Now You're Back Read online

  ‘She told me you were kind to her,’ said Didi. ‘Something about a group of boys taking the mickey out of her one night in town. But you stepped in, sorted them out and walked her home.’ She paused, because Shay was observing her closely. ‘Why are you looking at me like that? Did it not happen?’

  ‘Oh yes, it happened. And it was really good of Layla to ask me along. It was just . . . you know, unexpected.’ His brief smile indicated what he meant. Out of the ten of them here in Venice, nine were from the two local private schools and socialised together. Shay was the only one from the comprehensive and certainly the only one with a jailbird dad.

  ‘She wanted you here.’ Didi brushed away a snowflake that had landed like a feather on her nose. ‘She likes you.’

  ‘What kind of like?’ Shay’s silver-blue gaze was unwavering. ‘That’s why I’m asking you. Does she just like me as a friend because I’m an awesome person – which I definitely am, by the way – or does she fancy me?’

  ‘And you’re asking me this because you want her to fancy you?’

  ‘I don’t want that. She’s a lovely girl, but . . . no.’ He shook his head. ‘But I don’t want to hurt her feelings either.’

  They paused whilst an elderly man drew closer in order to admire their snowman then smiled and nodded before continuing across the square.

  ‘I asked her this evening, before dinner,’ said Didi. ‘And she said no, she just likes you as a friend. No plans for anything more.’

  ‘OK. Well, good to know.’ Clearly relieved, Shay raked his damp blonde hair back from his forehead. ‘Out of interest, any other reason you can think of for her inviting me?’

  Didi recalled sitting in the kitchen of Layla’s house whilst she’d been compiling her list of invitees. When Shay’s name had come up, Layla’s mum Rosa had said, ‘Would he get on with your other friends?’ and Layla had replied, ‘Of course he would, Shay gets on with everyone. And I bet he’s never had a holiday in his life.’

  Was that what he was asking now? She wasn’t about to tell him he’d been added to the list as an act of charity. Instead she said, ‘No other reason. She’s just grateful you rescued her from the idiots that time. And I can’t believe you aren’t even wearing gloves.’ She changed the subject and pointed to his hands. ‘Aren’t they freezing?’

  In response, he reached across and briefly rested his fingers against her left cheek. They were unbelievably warm. ‘I have excellent circulation. Second to none. Another of my talents.’

  Didi bent down to collect the bottle of Prosecco wedged upright in a mound of snow. She took another fizzy swig, passed it across, then watched him drink before resting the base of the bottle on one knee. ‘I can’t believe we’re sitting here at four in the morning, in front of the Basilica.’ Her gesture encompassed the white marble, the Byzantine architecture with its ornate gold detailing, blurred now by the steadily falling snow.

  Shay nodded in agreement. ‘When I woke up and looked out of the window, I had to come outside and see it properly for myself.’

  ‘And build a snowman.’

  ‘Sometimes these things just have to be done.’

  Didi found herself wanting to learn more about him. ‘What A levels are you taking?’

  ‘Maths, physics, chemistry, English. You?’

  ‘English, history and art.’ She paused. ‘You must miss your mum.’

  Shay took another glug of Prosecco, then passed the bottle back to her. ‘Of course I miss her. But it’s been six years now. You kind of get used to the way things are.’

  Here, in this moment, it seemed as if a connection had been forged between them; Didi felt as if she could ask him anything. ‘What’s it like to have your dad in prison? Sorry, tell me if I’m being too nosy.’

  ‘No worries. People always ask me that question. It’s the kind of thing they want to hear about.’ He shrugged. ‘Again, I don’t really know any different. It’s like me asking you what it’s like to have two honest law-abiding parents who live and work together and own a luxury hotel. That’s your life and you don’t stop to wonder how it feels, because you’re used to it.’

  He was right, she lived a privileged life and took it for granted. She said, ‘It must be horrible for you when he . . . goes away.’

  ‘It is. But again, I’m used to it. And then I’m glad when he gets out. It’s always great to have him home again.’ Shay shrugged easily. ‘I know he’s a bit of a nightmare, but he’s still my dad and I love him. He’s all the family I’ve got.’

  Didi still couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with someone she barely knew. She found herself really looking at him for the first time, at his relaxed body, his damp blonde hair and carved cheekbones. ‘You’re doing so much better than most people would in your situation.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Modest too.’

  He smiled. ‘When everyone in town expects you to go off the rails and follow in your father’s footsteps, it kind of makes you want to go the other way, just to prove them wrong. And now I have another question. What’s Didi short for? Or is it a nickname?’

  ‘My name’s really Danielle, but when I was little I couldn’t say it. When my mum and dad tried to teach me, it came out as Didi instead. Started off as a family joke, then after a while it just kind of stuck.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ve been Didi ever since.’

  ‘Cute.’

  ‘It wasn’t my fault. I blame my teeth.’

  ‘Of course it was their fault.’ He grinned and sang teasingly, ‘Guilty teeth have got no rhythm.’

  ‘You’re hilarious.’ But she was smiling too.

  ‘Are you getting cold now?’

  Didi was starting to shiver. ‘Tiny bit.’

  ‘Well we can’t go in without taking a few photos.’ He reached into the pocket of his navy padded jacket and pulled out a disposable camera. She took a snap of him standing in front of the Basilica with his arm flung around the shoulders of their magnificent snowman. Then it was his turn to take one of her in the same position, followed by another as she twirled with her arms outstretched and her head tilted back, catching snowflakes on her tongue.

  Finally, having beckoned a passing Venetian across to do the honours, they had a photo taken of the two of them together, standing either side of the snowman with the bottle of Prosecco clutched to his snowy chest.

  ‘Grazie mille, signor,’ Shay called after him as the Venetian trudged away in the direction of the Campanile, and Didi was quietly impressed by his facility with languages, seeing as this was his first trip abroad.

  ‘My toes have gone numb,’ she said as they returned the chairs to the café and prepared to set off through the narrow streets that would lead them back to the hotel.

  ‘Don’t forget this.’ He grabbed the yellow bobble hat from the snowman and gave it a shake.

  Didi pulled it on. ‘That’s just making me colder.’ Her teeth were starting to chatter now.

  Shay removed the hat, grinning as she brushed melting snow from her hair. ‘Can I just say? This has been fun. I’m really glad we did it.’

  He was standing directly in front of her, his breath warm on her face. The fingers of his left hand made brief contact with her cheek as he lifted aside a wet strand of hair. Didi felt her own breath catch in her throat. His mouth was only inches from hers and all of a sudden it seemed as if he might be about to kiss her.

  More to the point, all of a sudden she found herself wanting it to happen with every fibre of her being.

  But it didn’t.

  ‘Come on, let’s get back,’ said Shay.

  Didi nodded in agreement, because what else could she do? Fling her arms around his neck and wail, ‘But I thought you were going to kiss me! I was waiting for you to do it!’

  No, that would be the opposite of cool.

  As they began to make their way back to the hotel, he said, ‘Are we going to tell the others about this?’

  ‘I was just wondering that.’ If they did, would e
veryone assume they’d sneaked out together? Would they be teased unmercifully for the rest of the trip and possibly for months to come? ‘Might be easier not to.’

  ‘I think so too. And tomorrow when we come to the square, we won’t say anything when they see the snowman. It’ll be our secret.’

  When they reached the hotel, he paused in the narrow street and Didi’s foolish heart did another skip, because maybe now the kiss was going to happen.

  But no, double disappointment; all Shay did was slide his key card out of his jeans pocket and use it to open the front door of the small hotel. Then, having brushed the snow from their jackets and wiped it off their trainers, they made their way silently up the stairs.

  On the third floor landing, he whispered, ‘See you tomorrow. Our secret.’

  ‘See you.’ Baffled, Didi wondered why it hadn’t happened. What was wrong with him, for heaven’s sake? Shay Mason should be flattered she’d wanted him to kiss her; he should have jumped at the chance.

  Three hours later, she was woken by a whoop of delight followed by a great thud as Layla bounced onto the end of her bed.

  ‘Oh my God, you have to get up!’

  ‘Why? Ow,’ said Didi as her feet got landed on.

  ‘You aren’t going to believe this,’ Layla shrieked. ‘It’s been snowing.’

  Chapter 2

  Thirteen years later

  Sometimes you had a few minutes to catch your breath before starting work. Other times you didn’t.

  Sylvia, the assistant manager, beckoned her over to the reception desk. ‘Didi, the American guy in the Midsummer Suite’s kicking up a fuss, something about too much noise. He’s demanding to see whoever’s in charge.’

  Didi shook her head; last night Myron Miller had complained loudly in the restaurant that he’d asked for chips to be served with his steak but had been given French fries instead, necessitating a gentle explanation that over here in the UK, chips were crisps. Needless to say, he’d found this un-American and frankly unacceptable.

  And this morning he was at it again; something about the finest suite in the hotel was clearly irking him. Such were the joys of keeping the customer satisfied. Didi said, ‘I’ll go and see him now.’

  She took the narrow stairs two at a time and reached the Midsummer Suite on the third floor. As their pernickety guest flung open the door in response to her knock, she began, ‘Mr Miller—’

  ‘You gotta major problem with the electricity supply in this place.’ Myron Miller shook his bear-like head. ‘Like, you guys need to call a professional in to sort it, before someone gets electrocuted.’

  The thought ran through Didi’s head: If only it could be you. But because she was a professional, she put on her concerned face and said, ‘Mr Miller, I’m so sorry about this. Why don’t you show me what’s wrong?’

  ‘Because if someone dies, you guys are gonna get your asses sued, I’ll tell ya that for nothing. Come on, get yourself in here and you’ll see what I’m talking about.’ He ushered her inside, then gestured with an air of triumph. ‘Hear that? And even if it isn’t dangerous, it’s still totally unacceptable. You can’t expect people to sleep with that kind of racket going on.’

  The last time a guest had complained about a terrible racket, it had been the sound of blackbirds singing in the trees outside their window. This wasn’t birdsong, though; it was a muffled low-level buzzing sound of an electrical nature. As Didi made her way around the suite, it soon became apparent where the noise was coming from.

  Oh please, not that.

  ‘I don’t think it’s a problem with our electricity supply,’ she told Myron.

  ‘It’s been going on for three hours now.’ He glared at her. ‘So whatever it is, you need to sort it out pretty damn quick.’

  Well, when you put it that way. Crossing the room, Didi bent down and listened, then rested her fingertips on the lid of Myron Miller’s gleaming Samsonite suitcase. She turned and said pleasantly, ‘It’s coming from inside your case. Do you want to deal with it or shall I?’

  It could have been a lot worse; luckily it wasn’t. With a sudden bark of laughter, Myron unearthed the sonic toothbrush that had presumably managed to turn itself on when he’d jammed it back into his washbag. He switched it off and the buzzing stopped. ‘Well wouldja believe that? It didn’t sound like my toothbrush from all the way in there.’

  An apology was clearly too much to hope for, but Didi was used to this by now. She said cheerfully, ‘Glad that’s sorted out. And is there anything else at all I can help you with?’

  But Myron Miller had already lost interest. Engrossed in his phone, he said absently, ‘No, I’m good. You can go.’

  As she let herself out of the room, the voice of another American male inside the Midnight Suite directly opposite said, ‘Miss? What was that infernal noise?’

  The door to the Midnight Suite remained closed. Didi called out, ‘It’s fine, nothing at all to worry about. It was just an electric toothbrush.’

  ‘Are you quite sure about that? Because it was kinda hurting my ears, lady. Almost sounded like someone was . . . I don’t know, trying to sing or somethin’. . .’

  Didi had already stopped dead in her tracks. No, it couldn’t be.

  Surely not.

  Could it?

  She stared at the Midnight Suite’s closed door and felt the thud-thud-thud of her heart like a fat pigeon trying to take off inside her chest.

  ‘No, sir. It definitely wasn’t singing.’ She paused. ‘Or any other kind of caterwauling.’

  Another second passed. Then the door was pulled open and there he was, standing before her. Almost thirteen years after he’d left.

  ‘Hey,’ said Shay.

  ‘Hey.’ Didi swallowed; she never normally said hey. But this was one of those peculiar situations and she couldn’t work out how to react. Normally greeting an old friend again after so long apart, there’d be a hug and some sort of kiss. But Shay wasn’t an old friend as such; he was an ex-boyfriend.

  More than that, he’d been her first love.

  And the way in which they’d parted company had been tricky to say the least.

  ‘Well . . . fancy seeing you here.’ There was a glimmer of a smile as he said it, which was something.

  Didi’s brain was working overtime, racing ahead. She said, ‘Do you know Mr Miller? Did you set up the whole toothbrush thing?’

  He shook his head. ‘No to both questions. I was half expecting to bump into you at some stage, but there were no plans to engineer it. I overheard the guy earlier on his phone, calling down to reception to complain about the noise in his suite. Then I heard someone come up to deal with him and realised it was you.’ Another glint of amusement in his silver-blue eyes. ‘You remember Venice, then?’

  Of course she remembered Venice, every last second of it. How could she ever forget?

  ‘Your American accent is terrible,’ she said.

  ‘Almost as bad as your singing.’ He smiled and raised a hand. ‘That was a joke. You know I don’t mean it.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Flew in last night, rented a car at Heathrow, arrived at midnight, managed to get the last room.’ He gestured at the suite behind him, which cost as much as any suite in a boutique four-star hotel, then said, ‘Don’t worry, I can afford it. Just about.’

  The dig was there; of course it was. Ignoring it, Didi said, ‘What would you have done if we’d been fully booked?’

  ‘Who knows? Slept in the car, I expect.’ He paused. ‘I can still rough it if I need to.’

  There was so much unspoken, so many things she’d wanted to say to him over the years. When he’d left, Shay had done a thorough job of it; short of hiring a private detective, there’d been no way of tracking him down, finding out what he was doing with his life and how things were going for him. And even if she had been able to pay for a private detective, it would have been a pointless exercise, seeing as she was the reason he’d left in the first plac
e.

  But now he was back.

  She found her gaze flickering around the outline of him, as if direct contact was too intense, like looking into the sun. At thirty-one, he was ageing as well as she’d always guessed he would and was as athletically built as he’d been at eighteen. He was wearing faded jeans the exact silver-blue shade of his eyes, and a plain white polo shirt with no visible logo, which meant it was either super cheap or designer and very exclusive indeed. Tanned skin. The fine scar she’d loved to trace with her finger, on the left side of his forehead. And streaky blonde hair still wet from the shower. He wasn’t wearing any jewellery, she noted, neither a watch nor a ring on his left hand.

  Damn, he’d caught her looking.

  ‘No, still single. Unlike you, I see.’ He inclined his head in the direction of her hand just as Sylvia rounded the final bend in the steep staircase. ‘So you’ve found someone who wants to marry you then. Well done.’

  Sylvia said brightly, ‘Ooh, do you two know each other then?’ She turned from Didi to Shay. ‘Actually, she found three someones who wanted to marry her! Not bad going, eh? Didi, did you manage to sort out the gentleman in the Midsummer Suite?’

  ‘I did.’

  Shay chimed in helpfully, ‘It was an electric toothbrush.’

  ‘Oh, right! Excellent! Well I just popped up to see if you were free to have a chat with the Carter-Laceys; they want to talk to you about booking the hotel for their daughter’s twenty-first. They’re waiting in the orangery.’

  Didi, whose palms were damp, was glad of an excuse to escape. ‘Of course, I’ll see them now.’ Work took precedence over catching up with long-lost ex-boyfriends, and she needed a break in order to get used to the idea that Shay was back in Elliscombe. Meeting those oh-so-familiar silver-blue eyes, she said, ‘Might bump into you later.’

  ‘Might do.’ He nodded in agreement. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Well now, this is interesting.’ Sylvia gave her a gentle nudge as they descended the narrow staircase. ‘He’s a bit of all right, isn’t he? What a body . . . and how about that smile!’