CHAPTER ONE

The Birthday Girl

As Mandy heard the taxi pull up she spun round in the hallway, making sure she had everything. She was always running late, but tonight was special: tonight was her night, and she just had to be on time.

She’d better tell the taxi driver to wait. She grabbed her copy of Grazia from the antique table to protect her head from the heavy rain.

‘Hi,’ she said to the taxi driver, smiling. ‘Can you wait five minutes? I need to lock up.’

‘No problem, love,’ he said.

She skipped down the stairs in her satin high heels, trying to avoid slipping in the puddles, and back through the door.

Mandy loved her home in the basement of a grand stucco property in Queensgate, South Kensington. As she walked into the entrance she checked herself out in the mirror. She felt good, more confident than she had expected to at this turning point in her life. She reached for her lip brush and added one final coat of luscious gloss. She cleaned any remaining stains off her teeth with her tongue and smiled at herself in the mirror. Her hair was dark as ebony and it fell in shiny waves over her shoulders; her skin was flawless, even and gleaming, her long dark lashes framing her beautiful big brown eyes perfectly. Her lower lip was fuller than the top and when she smiled she lit up the room. She grabbed her keys and her clutch bag and quickly squirted some perfume.

‘One last check,’ she said to herself, looking at her reflection. Tonight was a big night. She had to look great. ‘Have I got everything? Right, bag – check, lippy – check, keys – check.’

She grabbed her slightly sodden copy of Grazia again and headed out of her heavy black door, pulling it shut by its knocker. She fumbled with her umbrella: ‘Oh bloody hell, it never works, why do I bother?’ She ran and jumped into the taxi.

‘Ready, darlin’?’ said the cabby with a twinkle in his eye – he clearly found Mandy attractive.

‘Ready!’ she replied with a big smile, relaxing into the back seat. Mandy looked out at the rain, falling hard.

‘You look nice,’ said the cabby. ‘Are you going somewhere special?’

‘Yes,’ Mandy replied, ‘I’m off to the Wolseley.’

‘Ooh,’ the cab driver said, laughing, ‘very posh. Special occasion?’

‘Yes, actually. I’m turning thirty!’

The cabby looked at her in the mirror for about the tenth time in as many seconds, openly enjoying the view.

‘You don’t look it,’ he said with a grin. ‘I’d have you down as twenty, easy.’

Mandy laughed and rolled her eyes, knowing that, yes, she looked pretty good – but not twenty!

God, she loved London. Even in the rain, she found it romantic. As they drove past the Natural History Museum, Harrods and one of her favourite hotels, the Lanesborough at Hyde Park Corner, the old streetlights glowed a deep orange and fairy lights twinkled in the trees, building up the momentum for Christmas. She felt the driver’s eyes on her again. Now he was swerving over the wrong side of the road.

A car honked its horn with a loud beep, and the driver yelled, ‘Keep in your own bloody lane!’ as he sped past.

Mandy’s cabby just laughed and carried on with his friendly banter. ‘So who you meeting then, anyone nice?’

‘I’m meeting about ten lovely people actually,’ Mandy said, thinking how thrilled she was that so many of her friends could make it. They were colourful characters all of them, with fast-paced lives, and pinning them down wasn’t always easy.

‘Bet a gorgeous girl like you has to beat them off with a stick,’ the driver said with such a grin that Mandy had to humour him.

‘Only the ugly ones,’ she joked, raising her eyebrows. She looked out on to the rainy streets and people-watched for a moment. It was nearly eight o’clock in the evening and people were rushing around, trying to fit everything into their undoubtedly jam-packed diaries. London was such a fast place, full of different nationalities, different religions. On a bad day it could feel suffocating, but generally it felt to Mandy like the most exhilarating city in the world, with the speed of New York but the history of a Paris or a Rome. If you went for it, truly went for it, you could get the life you wanted here, and that was Mandy’s aim – to have it all. And why not? She’d read a greeting on a card once in Paperchase on the King’s Road that had truly stuck with her:

Reach for the moon, and even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.

She loved it and used it as a mental pick-me-up whenever she felt low.

And God, had she been low recently! She had spent the last couple of years settling for less than she should in almost every way, from her old flat and job to the men in her life. None of it had been good enough, and some of her old sparkle had gone. Mandy checked herself in her mirror one last time before she entered Piccadilly.

‘Oh no,’ moaned the cabby. ‘Sorry, love, Piccadilly’s rammed.’ He squashed his face up to the windscreen. ‘But at least it’s moving.’ He was a sweet, cheeky chappie in his thirties with cute dimples – a typical black-cab driver in his Ralph Lauren jumper with polo-shirt collar poking up from underneath. ‘Bet your boyfriend won’t be happy,’ he smiled.

‘God, you’re nosy,’ Mandy said, laughing.

‘I’m a black-cab driver, it’s part of the job description,’ he countered throatily.

Mandy felt relaxed with her new friend of five minutes. ‘Actually my main man waiting for me is gorgeous but gay – very, very handsome and my best friend. But I’m single now and couldn’t be happier,’ she lied. ‘I can’t be bothered with you men any more.’

Mandy had always loved dating and having fun with the opposite sex. All through her twenties the attention made her feel fantastic, and dating different men was exciting but, turning twenty-nine, she had realized she dreaded hitting thirty. There was so much she wanted to do, and life wasn’t working out as she’d planned. She had been with many different men because no one man seemed able to tick all the boxes. If they were funny, they were ugly; if they were clever, they were dull; and if they were great lovers, they were normally stupid. Their best way of communicating with you was obvious.

Of course, Mandy had had lots of fun coming to that conclusion, but that was the unkind thing about growing up. She’d got to the stage of finding out what did not suit her. At twenty-nine it no longer felt right to share her body with someone she knew right from the off was wrong for her. How dull, but oh so true. So she had decided to get a grip. She took control of her finances, making sure she was on top of tax payments and savings, and realized that if she worked her butt off, she could not only buy a bigger flat but a Gucci bag too. Hurrah!

Mandy heard a song that reminded her of her father: Nat King Cole, ‘Let There Be Love’. She realized she was humming along.

‘Do you want me to turn it up? I love all the old stuff on Magic,’ said the driver. He whistled along as if he hadn’t got a care in the world.

‘Please,’ Mandy replied, looking out at the bright lights of the Ritz as they drove beyond it and pulled over.

She felt excited: tonight was going to be perfect, apart from one thing. God, she wished her dad could be there.

The driver snapped her back to reality. ‘Here you go, love. Watch you don’t slip, it’s chucking it down out there.’

Mandy tipped him and tried her umbrella, arms stretched out of the taxi. ‘Eureka, it works!’ she trilled, as if discovering a new invention.

The lovely Irish doorman, Callum, helped her to the main doors of the restaurant.

Mandy swept through the doors of the Wolseley, shook the raindrops off her umbrella, and gasped at the beauty and opulence that filled the room. Everyone looked so beautiful, polished and stylish. This wasn’t just a restaurant, this was like the perfect scene in a film.

‘May I take your name, madam?’ asked a friendly-faced member of staff.

‘Yes, it’s Mandy Sanderson. I’m here with quite a large party of people.’

No more introductions were necessary.

‘SURPRIIISE,’ yelled a group of people sitting at a large table just to the right of Mandy’s view. Oh my God, thought Mandy. There, standing up and clapping, whooping and singing ‘Happy Birthday’, were ten of her friends. Mandy was rooted to the spot.

‘Come on, darling,’ beckoned George, ‘we’re making complete arses of ourselves for you!’

Mandy could contain herself no longer. Suddenly, all the happiness and exhilaration hit her at once. She bounced over and kissed all her guests as a massive applause broke out, not from only them, but from the whole restaurant.

‘It’s her birthday, it’s her thirtieth!’ George announced to the room. He was showing Mandy off as if she was a prize on a game show.

‘Happy birthday, dharrling,’ purred her Russian friend Assia. ‘The fur jacket and dress are both divine.’

‘Happy birthday, Mandy.’ Mandy looked up and saw Andrew. She worked with him and he’d always had a little crush on her. He was a bit preppy, but Mandy liked him – as a friend. ‘I’ve got you a little something,’ he said. ‘It’s not much but it’s not every day you turn thirty.’ He blushed and shuffled from foot to foot.

‘Oh thanks, Andy! You didn’t have to do that.’ Mandy looked at him sweetly. ‘Shall I open it now?’

‘NO, NO,’ stumbled Andrew, going red. ‘Just open it later – you have all of these friends to meet and greet.’

One friend after the other kissed and hugged Mandy in greeting. Deena, a tall red-haired couture hippie, presented her with a bunch of sparkly red balloons and placed what seemed to be a pebble in her palm. Deena winked and held Mandy’s hand tight in hers, and with a misty air of spirituality she looked Mandy straight in the face and whispered loudly, ‘This is a rose quartz. I got it from the tree festival. It will bring you love.’

As Mandy looked down at the light-pink stone, she felt she was being watched intently, to the point that it caused a burning sensation to the side of her head. She looked to her left, and straight away she found him.

There, on the other side of the room, was a gentleman at the bar. His suit jacket had been removed and the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up. He was sitting on a tall stool and had swung round in her direction. He had one hand placed on a drink and the other on the thigh of his beautifully tailored black trousers. His skin was tanned and his hair mousy. Mandy looked down and up again, as if she needed a reality check. Yes, he was still there, almost glaring back at her.

Mandy’s heart flipped, her face felt hot and the voices of all the well-wishers faded until she couldn’t hear a thing other than the buzzing in her head. Other customers and staff at the restaurant slipped away and the man’s face seemed closer and closer, until—

‘Mandy, Mandy.’ George slipped his arm around her waist, bringing her back to reality. ‘I want you to sit next to me. You look so beautiful that it will only make me look better,’ he giggled.< /p>

Mandy just about managed to pull her gaze away from the man at the bar to focus on what George was saying.

George was amazingly stylish and extremely witty. He was slim, with short buzzed hair, piercing blue eyes and full lips. Women loved him, but George maintained the rule, after a ‘bad experience’ with a woman, that ‘Girls are for gossip and shopping, and men are for sex.’

He worked for a fashion magazine. A passion for fashion was something the two had in common, and many a Saturday lunchtime would be spent in the Bluebird café in Chelsea, flicking through the latest must-haves in Elle, Vogue, Bazaar and Grazia. More often than not, after an espresso and a Diet Coke, hours of fun would be had, and Mandy would find herself laden with bags of shopping and a great big credit-card bill. George understood Mandy completely. In many ways they were so similar: they both liked to party, but never to the point that it damaged their careers; they were both ambitious; they both loved sex and lots of freedom, but secretly yearned for ‘The One’; both loved food but could never have much of it as their waistlines would suffer. Ninety-nine per cent of the time they would know exactly why they shouldn’t do something, but then occasionally at the eleventh hour they would go and do it anyway.

George had once explained, ‘I constantly feel like I have this red glowing button on my forehead and the finger on one hand is pointing towards it and dying to push it. The other hand is constantly trying to hold it back. It’s the self-destruct button. When it’s pushed the initial buzz is fucking amazing, but the consequences are catastrophic.’

Confiding in each other about their weaknesses and strengths was a great comfort to them both, and in the fabulous but equally fake world they lived in it was great that they could relax and be anything they wanted to be with each other. Although George drew the line at ever being badly dressed.

‘No matter how bad things are, darling,’ he once whispered as Mandy hugged him, crying after a break-up, ‘wearing a beautiful coat and diamonds will always make you feel better, even if it’s just slung over jeans and a sweatshirt. No one will ever know what’s lurking beneath.’ He had stroked her hair back and smiled. ‘So wipe your eyes and get that fucking awful tracksuit off! You look like Vicky Pollard! I wouldn’t be seen dead in it!’ Tough words, but said with heart.

Yes, they were camp together and sometimes enjoyed the shallow things in life, but deep down there was a true loving friendship.

As everyone sat down and looked at their menus, Mandy could feel the man’s eyes on her the whole time.

The beautiful candlelit tables twinkled, and the waiters rushed around busily, catering to everyone’s needs. Starters came, pink champagne was served, and the evening was already shaping into one of the most memorable ever. As Mandy looked around the table at Deena, Assia, George, Andy and her other wonderful friends, she realized just how lucky she was. Her friends were all so different – some wealthy, some not so, some quirky, some talented, some beautiful – but all fascinating, with a story to tell. Yet the person who intrigued her most right now was not at this table, it was the man sitting at the bar. He was saying goodbye to a male friend who was putting on his raincoat and picking up a black leather briefcase. They looked like good friends; probably long-term work colleagues, thought Mandy.

‘Gorgeous, isn’t he?’ said George, following the direction of her eyes. ‘I’d like to think he was gay, but the farewell to the raincoat guy was definitely a heterosexual one.’

Mandy found herself momentarily unable to speak.

‘Keeps staring at you, too. Get in there, darling!’ Smiling, George looked down at his food, ‘Tuck in, sweetness, or have you lost your appetite?’ George took a mouthful of risotto and tried not to chuckle. He could be a devil and Mandy loved it.

‘I’m going to the ladies’. Coming?’ she joked to George.

‘Hmmm, toilets aren’t my thing.’

Mandy raised an eyebrow and giggled.

She found herself in front of the mirror in the ladies’ room with all her make-up sprawled on the shelf in front of her, making sure she looked great for her return to the restaurant.

‘You’re being ridiculous,’ she whispered under her breath. ‘You don’t even know him and you’re making yourself up like he’s your bloody date.’

She stuffed her alligator clutch bag with all her lotions and potions, quickly squirted some Chanel Cuir de Russie, and made her way upstairs. One last check before she opened the door, and voilá!

She was walking back to her table, gracefully, elegantly and as naturally as possible, when ‘Shit,’ she felt him look up at her. He was about ten feet away. He’d already seen her, of course. She moved to walk away, her body turned round – but her feet stayed firmly planted on the floor. Mandy found herself hopping from one foot to another and feeling like a complete prat.

She chided herself: For God’s sake, Mandy, how hard can it be? Just walk in a bloody straight line and don’t look at him, look straight ahead whatever you do. Look important and look busy but don’t look at him, not at him. At last she glided by the bar, feeling absolutely fine, keeping her head up. She was just about past him when she heard a voice say, ‘Happy birthday’ over her shoulder, and the man at the bar was smiling.

‘Thank you.’ Mandy smiled back.

He looked tired, but devastatingly handsome and extremely sexy.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ he said, and then looked down shyly at his empty glass and swirled the remaining ice cubes round and round as they melted.

Mandy desperately wanted to say yes, but ‘No thank you’ were the words that, remarkably calmly, came out instead. ‘It’s my birthday, all my friends are here to see me and I should get back to my table really, but thanks.’

The man looked up at Mandy. His eyes were beautiful, and despite being tired they sizzled, full of knowledge, some sadness but most of all, kindness.

‘I know it’s your birthday,’ he replied, looking upbeat. ‘I’ve had a great day myself, actually. I’m celebrating a big new deal, and so the least we deserve is a celebratory drink. I’m sure your friends will be all right just for five minutes.’ Before Mandy had a chance to reply he had a cocktail list in his hand. ‘So what’s your tipple, birthday girl? Vodka champagne?’

‘I love mojitos actually.’

‘Mojito it is, and a Scotch on the rocks for me, please.’

The barman bustled off and there Mandy was, left with the stranger.

As he swung back around towards her, she caught the scent of his aftershave; it was musky and she found herself looking at his lips for that second too long.

‘So, birthday girl, are you enjoying your night so far?’

‘I’m loving it, absolutely loving it. My friend George planned the whole thing. He has great taste and . . .’ Mandy felt clumsy with her words, ‘oh and my name is Mandy, Mandy Sanderson.’

The man extended his hand to grasp hers and said politely, ‘Jake, Jake Chaplin. Absolute pleasure to meet you.’

Jake didn’t let go of Mandy’s hand. They both smiled at each other, almost as children do when they’ve decided to be best friends.

The bartender returned with the drinks.

‘Cheers, Mandy, and happy birthday. May this year bring you lots of health, wealth and happiness.’

‘And sex,’ Mandy blurted out.

Jake looked slightly taken aback. ‘Erm yes, and lots of that!’

Mandy laughed, shocked at her own outburst. ‘Sorry, must be habit,’ she giggled. ‘Always say that to my friend George when we toast, and we have to look each other in the eye or it means lack of sincerity and seven years of bad sex! He’s a red-hot-blooded gay man so we make sure we say it every time!’

Mandy giggled and toasted Jake, looking him right in the eye. ‘So, to seven years’ great sex, going for our dreams and being happy.’

Mandy sipped her mojito through her straw and saw Jake’s gaze taking her in.

‘What do you do, Mandy?’

‘I work for an events company.’ She smiled. ‘We do everything from weddings to premières and corporate functions. I love it, actually, and the good news is I’ve just been promoted.’ She smiled and raised an eyebrow. ‘I don’t have to fulfil someone else’s vision any more. I can come up with my own ideas, from the fabric on chairs to lighting to colour schemes – you name it!’

Jake looked important, a powerful man, and he seemed impressed by her. She felt extremely flattered. She had met many different characters in her job and could normally ‘place’ people pretty quickly, but Jake was a mystery.

‘Well, you know about me,’ she quipped: ‘how about you? What do you do, and what are you celebrating?’

Jake smiled, as if he was drained by but also proud of the answer. ‘I run my own advertising company. We won a huge pitch with a sportswear brand today. Our company has wanted this client for a long time, so we’re very happy. We have also been expanding and going down new avenues. It’s all good, but it can take up your life.’ He looked at his empty glass.

‘That’s why it’s so important to love what you do for a living,’ Mandy sighed. ‘I see more of my work colleagues than I do of my own family.’

Mandy glanced over at a family sitting together at one of the tables and thought of her own mother and sister. They lived just out of London, in Surrey, and she felt bad she didn’t see them more often, especially since her dad had died. It had been two years now and when Mandy visited, it made her miss her father even more. That was partly why she kept so busy: she wouldn’t have to see them so much and as a result she didn’t have to be reminded that Dad was gone for ever. She wanted to change the subject and Jake sensed it. She gave him a big smile.

‘Listen, you must need to have the odd party, put on events et cetera. Why don’t I give you my card?’ She placed her drink on the bar, rummaged through her bag for her business card and offered it to Jake. ‘Then, when something comes up and you need an events organizer, you can give me a call.’

Jake took the card and stared at it for what seemed like an eternity.

Mandy continued, ‘My bosses would absolutely love me getting a big player like you on our books.’ She smiled confidently. ‘I just know you’d love what we can do. You wouldn’t regret it.’

Mandy’s attention turned to her friends at the table. They were all looking over now, wondering what she was up to. They were trying to be subtle, apart from Deena, who was waving her arms around indicating that Mandy needed to come back.

Jake continued to look at her card and Mandy sensed something was wrong. Lots of thoughts flooded her head, bizarre notions of seeing him again, where it would be, how she would act, what she would wear. She was captivated by his face. He was by no means perfect, but something about this man made her feel intensely emotional.

Jake finally looked up. ‘Thanks for the card, Mandy,’ he said quietly.

‘You’re welcome.’ She closed her clutch bag and slid it under her arm.

‘But I can’t take it.’

Mandy’s face dropped. She bit her lip and looked right into his eyes. What the hell was this man playing at? Staring at her for half the evening, smiling all starry-eyed and buying her a birthday drink, and all she does is give her business card and he rejects it? Mandy normally knew a player when she saw one and she didn’t have Jake down as one of them.

Continuing to hold her gaze, he said deliberately, ‘Mandy, if I was to take your card it wouldn’t be for business.’

The silence seemed to go on for ever and Mandy was anticipating bad news from a man she hardly knew. She was confused, but tried to remain calm. ‘And what’s so wrong with that?’ She gave him a half-hearted smile.

Jake twiddled the card and repeated, ‘What’s wrong is that I wouldn’t call for business.’ He looked at her beautiful face. ‘I’d call because I think you’re . . . absolutely gorgeous.’

Mandy looked at him with a mixture of relief and anticipation. ‘And? I don’t get your point.’

Jake was obviously choosing his words as carefully as he could. ‘And I’m not in a position to act on the fact that I think you’re gorgeous, because I’m married, and not only am I married but I have two kids – two beautiful boys.’

Mandy had only known this man for the shortest amount of time, yet, ridiculously, she felt he’d betrayed her. He had been sweet, bought her a birthday drink – and owed her nothing. He was actually one of the good guys: he came clean! He didn’t have to tell her he was married, he could have kept quiet, told her what she wanted to hear and attempted to woo her straight into bed. She must have got it all wrong, misread the signals, and yet why did he look so sad? Why had he stared at her all night? Mandy remembered her mother’s words: ‘If in doubt, be a lady and keep a dignified silence.’ Mandy hadn’t always managed to follow that rule, but right now she did her mother proud.

‘I couldn’t take my eyes off you though.’ Jake looked at the floor. ‘I tried not to look but I found myself gazing at you again before I knew it.’ He looked up to Mandy and gave her a lovely warm smile. ‘I’m not a bastard, Mandy. I don’t chat up girls in bars, birthday or no birthday.’

Something about his sincerity made Mandy want to laugh. Maybe it was nervousness at such emotional honesty. There was a tickle in the air and the two of them burst out giggling like school kids as if it was some kind of forbidden release. Mandy saw an even more gorgeous side of Jake when he was laughing so much. He seemed lighter, more alive.

‘What are we laughing at?’ he said between guffaws.

‘I don’t know, but at least it broke the ice!’ Mandy giggled.

Mandy looked over at her friends. George was mouthing, ‘Birthday cake,’ with wide eyes and such a dramatic gesture he looked as if he was presenting a children’s show. Mandy sighed. ‘Listen, my so called “surprise” birthday cake is coming out any second and I’d better get back to everyone.’

Jake nodded, looking like he didn’t want to let her go at all. He smiled again, his eyes sparkling. ‘You are absolutely lovely, such a special girl. Whoever ends up having you in their life is a very lucky person, and if things were different—’

Mandy cut him off. ‘But they’re not, are they?’ She put her hand on his and felt brave suddenly. ‘Some people say that people know each other from previous lives: that’s why they have a connection and get married. Soulmates, if you like. Maybe we’re setting things up for next time?’

Jake glanced at her. A thousand words were said in that one look. Taken aback, Mandy felt her eyes well up ever so slightly.

‘Goodnight, Mandy . . .’ He lost his words. ‘So – so lovely to have met you.’ He squeezed her hand tight. As Mandy left to go she took the card back from his grasp, but he grabbed it back urgently.

‘I would like to keep this after all,’ he said.

Mandy looked at him, not sure what to say, and went back to her friends, who started to sing, ‘Happy birthday to you’. A big cake with lots of candles was placed in front of her on the table. Mandy looked up and Jake was cheering along with the whole restaurant, smiling like he’d known her for ever and was proud to be there.

‘Who’s the cute man up at the bar, Mandy?’ Assia asked the question every other friend at the table was dying to.

‘Ssssh, everyone,’ said George. ‘Mandy’s got to blow out her candles and make her wish.’

Mandy did just that. Closing her eyes tight, she wished as hard as she could. All the candles went out in one go and everyone cheered.

‘That wish will certainly come true!’ said Deena as she kissed Mandy on the cheek.

Mandy looked up. Where Jake had once sat was an empty chair. He had gone.