Free Staying at Daisy's by Jill Mansell Page A

her eyebrows. ‘I mean, was he nice?’
    Daisy thought for a moment.
    ‘How can I put this?’ she said finally. ‘Uh… no .’
    ***
    An hour later Daisy headed back to the hotel. The wedding party was winding up; already two taxis had passed her as she made her way along the High Street. The rain had eased off once more but the road was still wet and the temperature was dropping fast. Lucky old honeymooners, heading off for their three weeks in balmy St Lucia. Then again, Daisy thought, if marrying Dominic Cross-Calvert was the price you had to pay, she’d rather stay here freezing her doo-dahs off in Gloucestershire.
    Except… was she being too hard on Dominic? What had he done really, other than find himself unexpectedly faced with an ex-girlfriend and, in the heat of the moment, get a bit carried away?
    Then lie about it, of course, when he was caught out. Lie until he was blue in the face and swear he’d been the innocent party. Again, being brutally honest here, was there really anything so astonishing about that? About to marry Annabel, he’d simply panicked. And, who knew, maybe he wasn’t marrying her for her bank balance, maybe it was her irresistible personality he’d fallen in love with after all.
    ‘Yeeeuurrgh,’ Daisy spluttered as a third taxi shot past, careering through a huge puddle and sending a great wave of muddy, ice-cold water over her. Great, just what she needed; the cream wool coat Hector had bought her for Christmas was now a filthy, wet brown-stained cream wool coat. Furthermore, the soaking had been so comprehensive that even her face and hair were splashed with mud. What a brilliant end to a truly brilliant day.
    Except it wasn’t the end. As she was wiping her eyes and face with her equally wet hands, Daisy found herself caught in the glare of yet another set of headlights. As the car reached her at the hotel’s gates, it slowed to a halt. The driver’s window of the sporty black Mercedes slid open to reveal Dev Tyzack grinning up at her. Next to him in the passenger seat sat Jeannie, looking as if all her birthdays had come at once.
    ‘What?’ Daisy was curt, hideously aware of the muddy water trickling down her cheeks.
    ‘You know, when I was little I always wanted to be the Milk Tray man in those TV ads for chocolate.’ Dev acted as though they were continuing a conversation that had been interrupted only moments earlier. ‘I had this fantasy about rappelling from tall buildings, swimming through crocodile-infested waters, and swinging across ravines to give the lady what she wanted more than anything else.’
    Go on then, Daisy was hugely tempted to retort, better get a move on, because we all know what the lady in your passenger seat wants right now.
    Aloud, she said, ‘Really? How completely fascinating.’
    ‘The bad news is, I’m all out of chocolates,’ said Dev Tyzack.
    ‘Gosh. Tragic.’
    ‘Dev.’ Next to him, Jeannie sniggered with delight. ‘Come on, close the window now. I’m coooold .’
    ‘Here. Don’t say I never give you anything.’ Still grinning, Dev passed a box of Kleenex through the open window.
    Then, with a wink, he roared off.

Chapter 9
    ‘This lot always amazes me,’ murmured Rocky as Daisy joined him behind the bar to help out. ‘I always thought writers were quiet, mousy types who wore tweed and wouldn’t say boo to a goose. I just can’t believe they make so much noise and drink so much. I’m telling you, these booky people know how to put it away.’
    ‘They’re probably excited to have been let out for the day.’ Unlike Rocky, Daisy didn’t bother lowering her voice. There wasn’t a lot of point. The writers’ group who met at the hotel for lunch and gossip every three months were networking madly and shrieking with delight at seeing each other again. Being allowed to talk to real-life humans instead of having to write about pretend ones was—along with the pre-lunch gin and tonics—clearly going to their heads.