Saved By His Cinderella

Pepper had sneaked in beside them, and curled up on the sofa between George and his crutches.

And Jane was happy to curl up on one end of the other sofa next to Ed and play chess with George, with Hattie’s head resting on her knee. This was the most perfect Sunday ever, she thought. In a place where she felt as if she belonged.

She beat George again, much to his chagrin; but before he could ask for another rematch, the library door burst open.

‘Georgie-boy. You have—’

‘—done my physio, yes, Alice.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘It’s Sunday. That means no nagging, OK?’

‘You wish,’ Alice said with a grin.

Ed introduced his sisters to Jane. She liked them on sight; Alice was as brisk as she’d expected and Charlotte looked like a scatty academic, but Jane already knew not to be fooled by that.

‘Lovely to meet you, Jane. George tells us you’re a doctor, too,’ Alice said. ‘Please tell me Ed didn’t tell you about the red-faced squeaky business.’

Jane smiled at her. ‘No comment.’

George gave a crack of laughter. ‘Well, he’s right. You were red-faced and squeaky. You still are.’

‘I might be eight years younger than you, Georgie-boy,’ Alice said crisply, ‘but I at least have the sense not to fly into a cliff.’

‘Yes, m’lud,’ George teased.

‘Milady,’ Alice corrected. ‘Except I’m not a judge. Yet.’

Jane could see exactly why the paparazzi were scared of Alice. Though she also had a feeling that Alice had as big a heart as her brothers.

Lunch was in the dining room. The table was set with porcelain, solid silver cutlery and what looked like ancient Venetian glassware; Jane was terrified she’d drop something priceless and break it.

Ed moved his foot against hers so she glanced at him, then gave her a reassuring wink as if he understood what she was worrying about and wanted to put her at her ease.

The meal turned out to be full of laughter and noise and teasing—good-natured teasing, not the stuff with a nasty edge that she was used to from Jenna—and Jane was most definitely included as part of the family. The food was fantastic, too; Ed hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said that Frances was a great cook. ‘Thank you. This is the best roast beef I’ve ever had,’ she said, meaning it.

‘It’s from one of our farms. And all the vegetables are from our kitchen garden—I’m making a proper potager,’ Frances said, ‘before David takes up the whole of the garden with his roses.’

She and David shared an affectionate glance, and Jane realised that was another thing missing from her own childhood. Her father had always been tiptoeing round her mother, careful not to upset her, but there had never been that look of affection or adoration between them.

Alice was taking full advantage of the fact that George still couldn’t manage cutlery and was making a big deal of spoon-feeding him.

‘That’s it—Frances, from now on I’m living on soup, custard, and anything else you can stick through a blender and I can drink through a straw,’ George said with a pained look.

‘No, you’re not. This is such sweet revenge for all the times you spoon-fed me when I was a toddler and deliberately got yoghurt up my nose,’ Alice said.

‘Behave, children,’ Frances said, laughing.

Alice gave George a hug. ‘You can’t get Mum to stick roast beef through a blender. It’d be disgusting. And you know I love you, really.’

‘Love you, too, even though you’re the bossiest woman I’ve ever met. Ruffle your hair for me, will you? I can’t do it with these mitts. Not without cracking your skull, anyway,’ he said wryly.

Jane was aware of a rush of envy as well as wistfulness. How wonderful it must’ve been, growing up in this kind of atmosphere, laughing and joking and secure in the knowledge that you were really, really loved.

After lunch, Ed took her for a stroll round the gardens.

They were utterly beautiful and she could see why the public flocked there. The rose garden in particular was fantastic. ‘Wow. You were right about the incredible scent,’ she said, inhaling appreciatively.

‘Do tell Dad. He’ll be pleased. These are his babies, now we’ve all left home,’ Ed said with a smile.

The promised maze was small, but big enough to be very private, and Ed kissed her at every corner before finally taking her back in to join the family.

Bea arrived mid-afternoon. ‘Sorry I’m late. I’m up to my eyes in meetings, right now—but it’s going to be such a good commission. I think it’s going to be the one that’ll make my name,’ she said. And then she proceeded to grill Jane over coffee at the kitchen table, abetted by Alice and Charlotte.

‘Charlotte, do you want me to fetch the spot-lamp from Dad’s office so you can really make this an interrogation?’ Ed asked in exasperation.

But Jane didn’t mind at all. ‘It’s great that you look out for Ed.’ She smiled at them. ‘Anyway, my best friend did exactly the same thing to him, the first time she met him.’

‘Don’t you have any brothers and sisters to look out for you?’ Alice asked.

‘No.’ Technically, she had a twin sister; but Jenna had never looked out for her. It had always been the other way round.

‘Hmm. In that case, you can borrow us,’ Charlotte said.

Looking at her, Jane realised that she meant it. And there was a huge lump in her throat as she hugged Ed’s sisters.

‘Your family’s just lovely,’ she said on the way back to London that evening.

‘I know. And I told you they’d love you,’ Ed said.

She could see the question on his face: when was she going to let him meet her family?

‘Mine aren’t like yours,’ she said carefully. ‘I’m not close to them.’ She made regular duty phone calls home, but she hadn’t actually seen her parents since Shaun had cheated on her with Jenna. And she most definitely hadn’t seen her twin. She’d needed to take a step back and put some distance between them.

Ed reached across to squeeze her hand briefly. ‘I can’t imagine you not being close to anyone. My family loved you straight away.’

She dragged in a breath. ‘You know I told you my mum was a model? Well, she didn’t plan to have children. Pregnancy was hard for her.’ Especially as she was carrying twins. Not that she could bring herself to tell Ed that, because then she knew he’d ask her about Jenna. ‘She wasn’t able to work during her pregnancy. Then she had really bad post-natal depression. And she couldn’t go back to her career.’

‘Why not?’

‘Cover shoots and stretch marks don’t mix,’ she said dryly. It had been one of her mother’s mantras. Though at least one of her daughters had been able to get her back into that charmed world. Going on photo shoots with Jenna had brought a small measure of happiness back to Sophia. Whereas Jane’s world was alien to her. Disgusting. Particularly as it involved working with babies…the things that had ruined Sophia’s life. She sighed. ‘Appearances are really important to my mother. I’m never going to be tall, thin and elegant—and I’m clumsy. I drop things.’

‘No, you don’t.’

She coughed. ‘If you remember, the very second I met you I spilled a whole glass of champagne over you.’

‘Which wasn’t your fault—someone knocked into you.’ He paused. ‘So your mother blames you for the end of her career?’

‘If she hadn’t been pregnant, she wouldn’t have had stretch marks. Or had PND. She could’ve carried on doing what she loved.’ Jane shrugged. ‘And I can understand that. I know how I’d feel if I had to give up my job. It’s who I am—just as modelling was who she was. She’s fragile.’

‘Fragile?’

‘She has depression,’ Jane said. ‘On bad days, she doesn’t get out of bed. Bad days can last for weeks. And, yes, she’s seen doctors about it. Depression’s tricky. It doesn’t always respond to treatment.’ She sighed. ‘It’s a matter of keeping her on as an even keel as we can. I guess seeing me upsets her, reminds her too much of what she’s lost.’

Ed pulled off at the next layby.

‘Ed? Why have we stopped?’

‘Come here.’ He pulled her into his arms. ‘I’m sorry that your mum can’t see you for who you are. And blaming you for losing her career—that’s really not fair. You didn’t ask to be born. What about your dad? Can’t he help her see things differently?’

‘He…’ How could she put this? ‘He’s a bit like Mike Duffield. He likes a quiet life. Which is ironic, considering he used to be in advertising—that’s how he met Mum. She was a model on one of his campaigns.’

Ed stroked her hair. ‘I’m sorry. I wish I could fix this for you.’

‘I don’t think even a superhero could fix it. But it’s fine. I’m used to it.’

The expression on his face said that he didn’t think it was something you got used to. But he kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Come on. Let’s go home.’

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