‘Smile,’ said Jake, ‘you’re frightening the customers.’
Poppy knew she was looking down in the dumps. It suited her mood. Down in the dumps was how she felt.
‘I’ll read this, then they won’t be able to see my face.’ She reached for her dog-eared copy of Miller’s Guide and opened it at random.
Rifling through the pages didn’t help. Poppy chewed her thumbnail and gazed morosely at the photographs: a pair of Tiffany peridot and diamond earrings, pairs of candelabra, endless pairs of wheelback, ladderback, and splatback chairs…
With a mammoth sigh she slammed the book shut, making Jake jump.
‘What is it?’ He knew something was up. Poppy hadn’t even been able to finish her mid-morning banana doughnut.
‘Nothing. Just… oh, nothing.’
‘Tom?’ Jake looked worried. He wished he’d never tracked Tom Kennedy down now. The fairy-tale happy ending hadn’t taken long to turn sour.
‘No.’ Sensing his discomfort, she managed an invalid’s smile. ‘I’m glad I got out when I did. And I’m glad you found him for me. If you hadn’t, I would always have wondered. It’s just such a let-down,’ Poppy said sadly, ‘spending your whole life believing in love at first sight then discovering it doesn’t exist. It’s worse than finding out about Father Christmas.’
The tatty Miller’s Guide slid off her lap. When she leaned over and picked it up, it fell open at a page of Staffordshire figures, every one a perfectly matched pair.
‘Ohhh,’ Poppy wailed in frustration, convinced the book was doing it on purpose. ‘Couples, couples everywhere I bloody look! It’s not fair.’
Trying to help, Jake said, ‘You’ll find someone else.’
Wearily, Poppy turned and looked at him.
‘Oh, I’ve found someone else.’
‘You have? Who?’ Bewildered, he wondered why, in that case, she was so miserable.
‘Doesn’t matter who.’ Poppy looked evasive. ‘He’s already one of a pair.’
Jake was shocked. ‘You mean he’s married? Poppy, are you mad? How could you get yourself involved with a—’
‘I’m not,’ she intercepted, her cheeks reddening. ‘Anyway, he wasn’t married when I met him.’
‘For God’s sake, Poppy.’
‘I didn’t want it to happen.’ Poppy rolled her eyes at his stupidity. ‘You can’t always help who you fall in love with. You of all people,’ she added, unable to resist the dig, ‘should know that.’
Jake ignored it.
‘Look, having an affair with a married man isn’t the answer.’
‘I’m not having an affair with him. And don’t preach at me,’ Poppy said sulkily. ‘Stop sounding like a relationship counselor.’
Thank goodness there were no customers within earshot. Jake, determined to make her see sense, said, ‘Listen to me, Poppy. Get out while you can. It’s for your own good. They never leave their wives. Promise me,’ he said urgently, ‘please promise me you won’t see him again.’
Poppy had finished chewing her thumbnail. She’d chewed so far down it hurt.
‘Could be tricky.’ She examined her thumb. ‘Seeing as I live in his house.’
Up until now Jake had somehow assumed she’d fallen for a fellow trader, most probably the dark-haired, notoriously charming—and married—ceramics expert who was always timing his coffee breaks to coincide with hers.
But Caspar…
He opened his mouth to speak.
‘Don’t,’ Poppy blurted out. ‘Just don’t, okay? I know it’s totally pathetic of me. Dammit, I know better than anyone what Caspar’s like!’ She was twiddling her hair furiously, a sure sign of agitation. ‘And you don’t have to lecture me—I’m not planning to do anything drastic. It’s like measles. I’ll get over it.’ She winced as a strand of hair got caught up in her earring. More entanglements. Irritably she said, ‘Claudia did. I suppose I will too.’
Whoever said confession was good for the soul? Some idiot. Poppy was already deeply regretting telling Jake.
He was still looking appalled.
‘Does Caspar know?’
‘Are you mad? Of course Caspar doesn’t know! Nobody knows.’ It occurred to Poppy that newly-in-love people had a sickening habit of telling each other everything. ‘And you aren’t going to tell anyone either. Especially not Claudia.’ She gave Jake a deadly, I-mean-it look. ‘If you breathe a word, I’ll break your new glasses.’
Jake still missed his old, taped-together pair, the ones Poppy had so triumphantly snapped in half.
He looked rueful. ‘What’s new?’
Claudia was surprised how easy it had been to feel comfortable in Jake’s house. Accustomed as she was to opulence, elegance, and space, clutter and fraying curtains weren’t her taste. But somehow the fact that his style was less Homes and Gardens, more Exchange and Mart, didn’t bother her nearly as much as she expected it to. The effect was cozy, undemanding, as relaxed as Jake himself.
More and more easily, Claudia realized, she could envisage living here. Threadbare carpets weren’t the end of the world. Besides, she thought, once I persuade Jake to part with a bit of money we can buy new ones. Together we could really do this place up.
That evening, having come straight from work to his house, she had made a lasagna and opened a bottle of Chianti. Another thing she loved about Jake was how appreciative he was of her cooking.
‘This is terrific. Better than Bertolli’s,’ he told her as he mopped up the last of the sauce with ciabatta.
This, coming from Jake, was the ultimate compliment. Glowing with pleasure, Claudia caught sight of her candlelit reflection in the big mirror behind him. She looked so bright-eyed and happy, for a split second she barely recognized herself.
‘It’s Poppy’s favorite. She’s always nagging me to make it.’
Jake poured more wine.
‘Maybe we should have invited her over here tonight. There would have been enough for three.’
‘I prefer it like this,’ said Claudia. ‘Just us. Anyway, Poppy’s been such a grouch lately. She even had a go at me last night for leaving my clothes in the washing machine. I mean, honestly, the nerve of that girl! I told her she had a bloody cheek and the next thing I knew, she’d dragged all my stuff out of the machine and dumped it on the floor.’
‘She’s going through a bad patch,’ said Jake, ever the peacemaker.
‘Don’t start feeling sorry for her! If you ask me,’ Claudia pronounced bluntly, ‘she’s behaving like a spoiled brat. Everything Poppy wants, Poppy gets. Even Tom Kennedy, thanks to all our hard work. And then what does she do? Dumps him, for no sensible reason at all. I still can’t figure out why. What was wrong with him, for heaven’s sake? Nothing, that’s what.’ With an air of triumph, Claudia waved her fork at Jake. ‘Which is why she’s being so grumpy now, I bet you anything. She regrets it. She probably went to see him and begged him to have her back, and Tom told her to take a hike. Well, good for him,’ she declared roundly. ‘Serves Poppy jolly well right.’
Having a go at Poppy was one thing but elevating Tom to hero status was quite another. Claudia made him sound like Rhett Butler telling Scarlett he didn’t give a damn.
This was so unfair Jake couldn’t—simply couldn’t—let it pass.
‘Look, if I tell you something,’ he lowered his voice, ‘will you promise, absolutely promise, not to breathe a word to another soul?’
Claudia leaned towards him. She adored secrets.
‘Jake, you can trust me! What is it? Of course I won’t tell.’