Chapter 17
It was too hot to be eating outside, even under the pergola. Amy watched as the listless breeze gently moved the linen drapes, the drooping leaves of the sunflowers barely twitching. She wanted to pick up her gilt-edged bone-china plate and fan her face, or plunge her head into the engraved ice bucket. Even wafting one of the tasteful plum-coloured napkins might bring some relief. Claire had made a big effort – after all, this was Peter and Juliet’s last night and Amy and David’s penultimate one – but even the most controlling Homes and Gardens reader couldn’t wrangle the Provence weather.
‘Isn’t it supposed to get cooler at night?’ said Amy, wrapping both hands around her beading glass. ‘It must still be thirty-five degrees and it’s, what? Nine o’clock?’
David laughed. ‘It’s not that warm. I think you’re just a bit drunk.’
‘Maybe,’ she said, although it was true that she’d had at least two more glasses of wine than usual, partly due to thirst, partly in an attempt to calm her clanking nerves. Despite Juliet’s calm reassurance about David, she was on edge. Even though she had failed to catch him in the act, everything David did made her paranoid, running each innocuous comment or gesture over and over in her head, looking for meaning. She had already picked apart the conversation they’d had about the photo shoot. What had he said? Something about how helping Josie was a good thing, how she’d promised Karen. And he’d said he liked her, hadn’t he? Or was that Tilly, that Tilly liked her? It was all so jumbled up in her head. If only she’d taped it, she could have played it back, checked for clues.
‘It gets hotter than this, let me tell you,’ said Max, his words running together. If Amy was tipsy, Max was definitely drunk; no real surprise there, since he’d started about lunchtime with his patented cocktail on the way to the festival. ‘I have to sleep bollock naked with a gigantic fan pointed straight at my knob.’
‘Max, please!’ cried Juliet, placing the palms of both hands over her eyes. ‘I’m never going to sleep tonight with that image in my mind.’
‘You haven’t been sleeping well as it is,’ laughed Peter.
‘It’s too bloody sultry. It’s not just the heat; it’s so close, like the air’s as thick as butter.’
David looked over at Amy and grinned. ‘I actually find it quite sexy, all this heat.’
Amy flashed him a look, but he didn’t seem to notice.
‘David, not you too!’ complained Juliet.
‘There’s got to be a reason people tend to get more frisky on holiday, hasn’t there?’
‘Pheromones,’ said Max. ‘More sweat equals more pheromones, stands to reason. And when you’ve got world-class pheromones like mine, who can say no, eh, Claire?’
Claire gave him a sarcastic smile. ‘Not when you’re passed out naked with the fan on full blast, no.’
‘Looks like we’re in for a party tonight!’ shouted Max, banging the table.
David stood and raised his glass in toast. ‘Here’s to Max for the house, to Claire for this wonderful spread, and to Max’s fan for dealing with his naked horridness without complaint.’
They all clinked glasses and David was just sitting down again when he raised a hand in greeting.
‘Hey, Josie, everything all right?’
Everyone turned. Josie was standing awkwardly at the edge of the light cast by the pergola.
Amy felt her hand clench into a fist at the sight of her. She was wearing a black kaftan with a thin sequinned collar, one that Amy instantly recognised from the Quinn collection. In the daytime, by the pool, it was a pretty cover-up, the sort of thing that thousands of women packed in their holiday suitcase to throw on at the beach. But tonight, backlit against the soft outdoor lights, the garment was completely transparent, showing off Josie’s black bra and pants underneath, the curve of her breasts, the dark hollow of her belly button. It made her look seductive and dangerous.
Amy glanced over at David and saw that he had noticed the kaftan’s sheerness too. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she could see his cheeks colour in the low light, the slight nervous tremble of his hand as he raised his wine glass to his lips.
‘The twins and Tilly are all sound asleep and I have this.’ Josie held up the baby monitor.
‘In which case, pull up a chair and come and join us,’ said Max, getting to his feet. ‘Seems mad you being stuck upstairs when we’re all down here.’
He grabbed a glass and handed it to her as Josie sat down, perching nervously on the edge of a chair as if she expected to be sent away at any moment. Amy looked at
her, wishing she could do exactly that, but they were all fussing around the girl, trying their best to make her feel included. Claire admired her earrings, Peter brought her some strawberries, and even Juliet asked her about her time at Verve.
‘So, Josie,’ said Max expansively. ‘How have you enjoyed Provence? Good job you were at David’s when that poor nanny had her accident. Does anyone know how she is, by the way?’
‘Claudia’s fine, since you were asking,’ said David, heavy with irony. ‘The arm’s mending nicely. The ankle too. She’s up and around with a walking stick.’
‘How come you were staying with David and Amy in the first place?’ It was typical of Max to wait until Josie’s final few days to ask her even the most basic of questions.
‘Josie is my friend’s daughter, Max. I’ve already told you. I helped her out with some work experience.’