She gave Marin a long look. ‘But you don’t seem to have found your surroundings particularly restful,’ she added candidly. ‘On the contrary, you look as if you’ve barely slept. Are you still brooding over the sudden demise of the dream job?’
Marin bit her lip. ‘And its possible repercussions,’ she admitted.
‘Come and tell me all about it while I get supper.’ Lynne got to her feet. ‘Mike’s mother, the lovely Denise, sent me back with one of her home-made chicken and mushroom pies.’
‘Don’t you want to keep it to share with Mike?’ Marin asked as she trailed after her into the kitchen.
‘Certainly not,’ said Lynne. ‘He didn’t offer me any of the leftover joint of beef she gave him.’ She handed Marin a pack of French beans, a colander and a knife. ‘Sort these out while I peel some potatoes.’
They worked for a few minutes in silence, then Lynne said gently, ‘I’m listening, my lamb, so start talking.’
Marin bent her head. ‘At first everything was fine. The weather was glorious and the house was beautiful, right on the edge of the village, with its own swimming pool. She—Ms Mason—told me to call her Adela, and even though she set quite a pace with the work I could cope easily. I was in seventh heaven.’
‘But then?’ Lynne prompted gently when she paused.
‘Then her husband arrived, blond, smooth and younger than her. He’d been in Germany, apparently, discussing some kind of business deal. I got the impression it hadn’t gone too well, because there was a bit of an atmosphere. I was glad to get away.
‘I was in a small flat that she’d recently had converted from some outbuildings. As she said, privacy for both of us.
‘We always had a break after lunch, so the following afternoon I’d just got back from a swim when he, Greg, turned up. Said he wanted to have a look at the place and make sure the builders had done their job properly.
‘I didn’t want to let him in, but I couldn’t very well refuse. So he wandered round, peering at the window frames and examining all the kitchen and bathroom fittings.’
She flushed. ‘And he went into my room, which was awful, because the clothes I’d taken off earlier were on the bed, including my underwear. And he looked at me and grinned, and made some remark about me being untidy but that he wouldn’t report me to the boss—this time.’
‘I see.’ Lynne’s tone was grim. ‘And when did this charmer make his move? Right then and there?’
Marin finished the beans and pushed the colander to one side. ‘No. But I could feel him watching me all the time. I never gave him the least encouragement—I swear it.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Then, a few days ago, Adela announced after lunch that she was driving to the supermarché. I—I thought he’d gone with her, so I went for my usual swim.’
She shuddered. ‘When I went back to the flat, he was waiting for me in the bedroom. He said “Alone at last,” and called me “sweet pea”. I told him to get out, but he pushed me down on to the bed and started trying to undo my bikini top and kiss me at the same time. I—I realised he’d unzipped his trousers.
‘I was struggling and trying so hard to scream that, when it started, for one crazy moment I thought it was actually me. Then Greg let me go, and I saw Adela standing in the doorway with her mouth open, making these dreadful sounds.
‘I can remember thinking, “Oh, poor thing. She’ll never forgive him for this.” Then he got up and fastened his trousers, and started accusing me. Said I’d asked him over because the shower wasn’t working properly and started flirting with him, but he’d thought it was a joke until I undid his zip, and said, “She’s shopping. We’re safe”. And pulled him down on to the bed.
‘He said I’d been coming on to him from the day he arrived, that I’d asked him to guess the colour of my underwear and then shown him it was white with pink roses.
‘He said, “For God’s sake, Del, look at her. She’s no bloody oil painting. Who the hell would want to start anything with such a pathetic little object?”
‘He said he hadn’t told her about it because he felt sorry for me. He just never believed I’d go this far.’
Lynne gasped. ‘Didn’t you tell her what really happened?’ she demanded.
Marin closed her eyes. ‘I tried, but she didn’t want to know. He’d got his story in first, and she believed him.
‘Meanwhile, Adela was calling me foul names—“skinny little tart” being the most repeatable—and at one point I thought she was going to hit me, but by then Greg seemed to be in control because he stopped her. Said I wasn’t worth it, and she should just get rid of me.’
She lifted her chin. ‘So that’s exactly what she did. I had to pack and get out. I’d have been stuck down there in the middle of nowhere but for Cecile, the housekeeper, who brought me some supper and told me her nephew would take me to Toulouse in his lorry first thing next morning if I wanted. I gathered that I hadn’t been Greg’s only victim.
‘At Toulouse, I got on a flight thanks to a no-show, and here I am,’ she added, trying a smile which collapsed.
Lynne said quietly, ‘Bastard! Complete and utter bastard! And let’s hope La Mason’s next book’s a stinker.’
She was equally upbeat about Marin’s future prospects over supper.
‘Up to this point you’ve had clients singing your praises. And if the worst happens you can stay on here while you’re job-hunting.’ She paused. ‘I’ll have to clear it with Rad, of course, as it’s his flat and he’s letting me camp here as a favour. However, there shouldn’t be a problem.’
Marin hastily swallowed some chicken and was about to say, ‘Actually…’
But Lynne was going on, ‘Of course, I won’t be here myself for much longer. Mike and I are starting to look for a flat to buy next week.’ Her sudden smile was rapt and tender. ‘We’re planning the wedding for next year, and you have to be bridesmaid.’
She paused, frowning a little. ‘And I shall also have to find my successor and train her up.’
‘You’re going to leave the agency?’
‘Not immediately. But a married assistant will never do for Rad. He requires total commitment, and my priority is going to be Mike.’ She cut herself another sliver of pie. ‘I know you weren’t keen a couple of years back,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘But you might consider working for Rad yourself, if push comes to shove.’
Marin drew a deep breath, telling herself that she had to break the news at some point. ‘Oddly enough,’ she said, trying to sound casual, ‘I’m doing precisely that—in a manner of speaking.’
There was a silence, then Lynne put down her knife and fork, her eyes narrowing. ‘Explain,’ she said. ‘Speaking in a manner I can understand.’
Marin considered and rejected a number of openings, and was left with the unvarnished truth.
She said baldly, ‘He’s hired me to be his girlfriend.’
She saw Lynne’s expression turn to horror and added hastily. ‘Well, pretend to be, anyway. He needed someone to take to a party. His real girlfriend couldn’t go, and you were away, so he picked me.’
‘Then he can just unpick you again,’ Lynne said grimly. ‘And I shall tell him so. When is this party?’
Marin bit her lip. ‘Last Friday.’
Lynne closed her eyes. ‘Dear God.’