The Barbarian's Bride

She smiled. ‘Of course. How are things?’

‘Huh!’ Sally snorted. ‘I wish you hadn’t asked, but since you have I’ll tell you. I’m standing on tiptoes and the water is up to my chin.’ She sighed and shrugged. ‘It’s tough for everyone in this damned recession. I shouldn’t complain. At least I can still afford to eat here.’ She laughed. ‘Do you remember the greasyspoon we used to eat in up in Camden?’

Janene nodded and felt a tug of nostalgia for the old days. Camden, in North London. That was where it had all started…

They’d first met while browsing around the stalls in the street-market, and they’d taken an instant liking to each other. Over coffee and hamburgers in a cafe, they’d bemoaned the limited choice of goods on offer in the market and had decided there and then to go into business for themselves. They’d pooled their capital and opened a stall specialising in unusual costume jewellery and accessories. Within two years they’d owned a string of boutiques across London.

In those days she’d been just as single-minded and aggressive as Sally, and they’d carved their way to success through a hostile world of reluctant bank managers and cut-throat competitors.

In her case, at least, the real reward hadn’t been the money but the feeling of independence and accomplishment. Much to the consternation of her staid and rather old-fashioned parents, she’d always rebelled against the idea that it was a man’s world, and a woman’s role was to settle down and be a good little housewife.

They had been pleased about her success, of course, but she had sensed their underlying disappointment. They had wanted grandchildren, but their only child was more interested in a career than motherhood. She hadn’t even had a boyfriend—at least none she cared to date on a regular basis.

It had been guilt just as much as a spirit of generosity that had prompted her to treat them to a month’s holiday in Florida, all expenses paid. And it had probably been a wish not to hurt her feelings that had made them accept.

She’d driven them to Heathrow, hugged them both, told them to have a wonderful time and not forget to write, and then watched as the jet thundered down the runway and rose gracefully into the air…

‘I want you back in the business with me.’

Sally’s voice broke into her thoughts and she blinked. ‘What?’

‘I want you back in the business,’ Sally repeated impatiently. ‘We can come to some agreement right now. Come on, Janene. What do you say? We were a great team once. We can do it again.’

The waiter arrived with the meal and Janene heaved a mental sigh of relief. ‘Let’s eat first and give me time to think about it,’ she prevaricated.

Resuming her career was the last thing in the world she intended doing, but she hated the thought of letting Sally down. It had been the realisation that something like this might happen that had made her reluctant to come in the first place.

Respecting her wishes, Sally didn’t pursue the matter until they were having coffee, then she asked abruptly, ‘Well? Have you thought about it? Do we have a deal or not?’

All through the meal her mind had been grappling with the problem, and now she said, ‘I’d like to help you all I can, Sally. If you’re going through a bad patch, I’d be glad to help out financially. You only need to ask.’

Sally eyed her in frustration, then, in her usual straightforward manner, got straight to the point. ‘That isn’t the reason for this meeting, Janene. You’re the one that needs help, not me. It’s been a year since that—that terrible accident. You should be over it by now. You can’t let it affect your whole life.’

‘I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she muttered into her cup.

‘Of course you do!’ Sally said in irritation. ‘You keep blaming yourself and that’s silly. You’ve put your head under the blanket and you’re determined to keep it there. I’m giving you the chance to grab hold of life again.’ She gave a little shrug. ‘I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. But it’s surely worth a try. At least, if you’re busy, you won’t have time to brood.’

Janene had been listening, dull-eyed, but now she summoned up a smile and said with affection, ‘Sally, you’re a wonderful friend. No one could ask for any better. But there’s really no need to worry about me. The fact is that I’m getting married shortly.’

Sally’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in astonishment. ‘Janene! That’s marvellous!’ She leaned across the table in excitement. ‘You’ve got to tell me all about him. I’ll bet he’s absolutely gorgeous. What’s his name? Is he rich? Not that that matters, but it helps. Where did you meet him?’

She laughed. ‘Hold on! One thing at a time. First of all, his name is Damien. He’s tall, with brown hair and grey eyes. He works for himself. He’s a financial adviser and I met him six months ago.’

‘Six months ago! And you’ve been keeping him to yourself all this time! Why didn’t you let me know?’

‘I—I was getting around to it,’ she murmured. ‘Anyway, I want you to be my bridesmaid at the wedding. Will you?’

‘Just try and stop me,’ Sally threatened, bubbling over with enthusiasm. ‘When is the wedding?’

‘Well, we haven’t actually got round to fixing the date yet,’ Janene confessed quietly. ‘Damien is very busy at the moment.’

Sally’s eyebrows rose a fraction. ‘I see… You mean, he’s going to marry you when he can spare the time?’ Giving her head a slight shake of disapproval, she took another sip of her coffee, then laid her cup down and sighed in apology. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. At least he sounds as if he’ll be a good provider.’ She smiled brightly. ‘So? When am I going to meet him? Just let me know the time and place. I’ll dust off one of my old boyfriends and we’ll have a foursome. Dinner, then a nightclub.’

The idea appealed to Janene. ‘I’d like that, Sally. I really would like you to meet him. I’ll be out of town for a few days, but as soon as I get back I’ll get in touch and let you…’ Her voice trailed off and the colour drained from her face as she caught sight of the man at the bar.

Sally eyed her with concern. ‘What’s wrong? Do you feel ill?’

The man had his back to them, but he was tall and slim and had raven-black hair and a way of standing… He turned to greet a companion and Janene let out a sigh of relief. ‘It—it’s nothing,’ she stammered. ‘I thought I saw someone I met at a party last night.’

Sally turned in her seat. ‘Do you mean that dishylooking guy at the bar?’

‘Yes. But I was wrong.’ This was ridiculous, she fold herself. She was acting like a nervous idiot. The chances of her ever running into Kassim Riffik again were negligible. He was probably back in Morocco by now, where he belonged.

‘So, what did this man at the party do to scare you?’ asked Sally, eager for a bit of gossip. ‘And don’t say that he didn’t. You looked as if you’d seen a ghost a moment ago.’

‘Nothing,’ she answered firmly. ‘It was all in my imagination.’ Before Sally could interrogate her any further on the subject, she called the waiter over and settled the bill with her credit card. ‘It’s my treat,’ she announced to Sally. ‘And don’t argue.’

The first boutique they’d opened, The Cat’s Eye, was only a few minutes’ walk away and Sally insisted on dragging her along to see her latest range of stock. The manageress took the opportunity for a break, and as Janene took her place behind the glass-topped counter she felt a stirring of familiar excitement.

She was busy casting a professional eye over the display when a customer came in, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to switch on her sales technique. Ten minutes later the woman, who’d only come in for a pair of ear-rings, happily left with a matching bracelet and necklace.

‘You haven’t lost the touch,’ Sally remarked in approval. ‘And you were really enjoying yourself. Go on…admit it. You feel at home behind that counter, don’t you?’

Janene looked around the boutique regretfully, then shook her head. ‘My mind is made up, Sally. I’m getting married.’

‘Yes—’ Sally gave a despondent shrug ‘—so you’ve told me. But if things don’t work out… Well, you know where to come.’

It was just after five in the evening when Janene arrived at the cottage in the depths of the Kent countryside. On the way she’d stopped at the supermarket in Ashford and loaded up the Volvo with enough tinned and frozen food to last a fortnight.

Isolated and hidden behind high hedges, the cottage was half timbered, with a thatched roof and strong shutters on the windows. An ideal retreat from the world. It had belonged to her parents, and she’d spent many happy weekends here as a child.

A few weeks after her parents’ funeral she’d come down, intending to spend some time on her own, but the memories it evoked were too painful and she’d fled back to London after only one night. For a while after that she’d toyed with the idea of selling the cottage, but then she’d met Damien and he’d persuaded her to change her mind. The cottage was a sound investment, he’d said, and though the market for this type of property was depressed at the moment it was bound to pick up sooner or later.

The place smelt damp and musty after being closed up for so long, but she soon had a log fire blazing in the hearth, then, arming herself with a bottle of red wine and a glass, she went into the kitchen and began preparing a light supper. The memories weren’t so bad now. She was learning to live with them.

The following day was warm and sunny and, throwing the windows and doors wide open, she vacuumed and scrubbed and polished the place from top to bottom. By evening she was stiff and aching, but everything was done to her satisfaction, and she rewarded herself with a long, luxuriating soak in the bath.

That night, relaxing with a glass of wine in front of another blazing fire, she was glad that she’d taken Damien’s advice to hold on to the cottage. Instead of selling it, she’d keep it. When they were married, this would be the ideal place to relax and unwind. The nearest house was half a mile away, so there were no noisy neighbours to disturb the peace and tranquillity. And eventually, of course, they’d be able to bring their own children here. Her parents would have liked that if they’d still been alive.

A sudden noise from outside caught her attention and drew her to the window. She peered out into the night but saw nothing. It had sounded like a rattle from the gate at the foot of the path, and she opened the door and called out nervously, ‘Who’s there? What do you want?’

There was no answer from the menacing darkness, and she strained her ears. From the woods to the left there was a fluttering of wings and the hoot of an owl. The river at the back of the cottage gurgled softly.

She stood for a moment longer, her breath quick and nervous, then, biting her lip, she closed the door and made sure that it was securely locked and bolted.

Pouring herself another glass of wine, she sat down by the fire again and told herself not to be such a coward. It had probably been nothing more sinister than a fox out foraging for scraps. It was that man Riffik who was to blame for the state of her nerves. All that talk about corsairs snatching people from their beds. Well, there was little chance of an ocean-going boat making its way up that tittle river.

No, she decided. She had nothing to fear from him. Damien had been right. Kassim Riffik was the hot-blooded Mediterranean type. All talk and come-to-bed eyes. Chatting up strange women was just a way of life to men like him, as natural as eating and drinking.