Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Ten Years Ago

There are some places where you might expect to bump into your boyfriend’s ultra-posh mother.

At a Buckingham Palace garden party perhaps, or Glyndebourne, or turning her nose up at Ferrero Rochers at some foreign ambassador’s cocktail party. And then there are other places you wouldn’t expect to bump into her at all.

Like, for example, the Cod Almighty at the dodgier end of Tooting High Street.

‘Blimey, it’s Dougie’s mum.’ Instinctively wiping her hands on her green nylon overall and curbing the urge to curtsey – because Dougie’s mum was that posh – Lola said brightly, ‘Hello, Mrs Tennant, how lovely to see you!’

And how typical that she should turn up two minutes before closing, when all they had left to offer her was a tired-looking saveloy and a couple of overlooked fishcakes. Maybe Alf could be persuaded to quickly chuck a couple of fresh pieces of haddock into the fryer and—

‘Hello, Lola. I wondered if we could have a chat.’ Even for a visit to a fish and chip shop, Dougie’s mother’s make-up was immaculate, her hair swept into a Princess Michael of Kent chignon.

‘Oh, right. Absolutely. I’m just finishing here.’ Lola glanced across at Alf, who made good-humoured off-you-go gestures. ‘We close at half past two. So you don’t want anything to take away?’

Was that a shudder? Mrs Tennant shook her head and said with a flicker of amusement, ‘I don’t think so, do you?’

Having retrieved her shoulder bag from the back room and shrugged off her nylon overall —

youch, static — Lola ducked under the swing-top counter and took the king-sized portion of chips Alf had wrapped up for her, seeing as they had so many left.

‘Bye, Alf. See you tomorrow.’

‘I can drop you home if you like,’ said Dougie’s mother. ‘The car’s just outside.’

Lola beamed; free chips and a lift home in a brand new Jaguar. This was definitely her lucky day.

Outside on the pavement it was stiflingly hot and muggy. Inside the Jaguar the cool air smelled deliciously of expensive leather and Chanel No. 19.

‘This is such a great car,’ sighed Lola, stroking the upholstery as Dougie’s mother started the engine.

‘Thank you. I like it.’

‘How could anyone not like it?’ Lola balanced the steaming parcel of chips in her lap, careful to keep it away from her bare legs. Her stomach was rumbling but she heroically resisted the temptation to open them. ‘So why did you want to see me? Is this about Dougie’s birthday?’

‘No. Actually it’s about you and Dougie. I want you to stop seeing him.’

Bam, just like that.

Lola blinked. ‘Excuse me?’

‘I’d like you to end your relationship with my son.’

This couldn’t be happening. Her shoulders stiffening in disbelief, Lola watched as Dougie’s mother drove along, as calm and unconcerned as if they were discussing nothing more taxing than the weather.

‘Why?’

‘He’s eighteen years old.’

‘Nearly nineteen.’

‘He’s eighteen now,’ Mrs Tennant repeated firmly, ‘and on his way to university. He is going to university.’

‘I know.’ Bewildered, Lola said, ‘I’m not stopping him. We’re going to see each other whenever we can, take it in turns to do the journey. I’ll catch the coach up to Edinburgh every other weekend, and Dougie’s going to drive down here when it’s his turn, then—’

‘No, no, no, I’m sorry but he won’t. This isn’t the kind of relationship Doug needs right now. He told me last night that he was having second thoughts about going to university. He wants to stay here. And that’s all down to you, my girl. But I won’t stand by and let you ruin his life.’

The hot chips were burning Lola’s legs now ‘Honestly, I’m not ruining his life. I want the best for Dougie, just like you do. We love each other! I’ve already told him, if we miss each other too much I’ll move up to Edinburgh and we’ll live - together!’

‘Oh yes, he mentioned that too. And the next thing we know, you’d be feeling left out because he’d have all his university friends while you’re stuck working behind the counter of some backstreet fish and chip shop.’ Mrs Tennant’s lip curled with disdain. ‘So to regain his attention you’d accidentally get yourself pregnant. No, I’m sorry, I simply can’t allow this to happen. Far better for you to make the break now’

Who did this woman think she was?

‘But I don’t want to.’ Lola’s breathing was fast and shallow. ‘And you can’t force me to do it.’

‘No, dear, of course I can’t force you. But I can do my best to persuade you.’

‘I won’t be persuaded. I love Dougie. With all my heart,’ Lola blurted out, determined to make his mother understand that this was no silly teenage fling.

‘Ten thousand pounds, take it or leave it.’

‘What?’

‘That’s what I’m offering. Think it over. How much do you earn in that fish and chip shop?’

Dougie’s mother raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. ‘No more than five pounds an hour, I’m sure.’

Four pounds actually. But it was still a mean dig; working at the Cod Almighty was only a temporary thing while she applied for jobs that would make more use of her qualifications.

‘And if I took your money, what kind of a person would that make me?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. The sensible kind, perhaps?’

Lola was so angry she could barely speak; her fingernails sank through the steamed, soggy chip paper, filling the air-conditioned interior of the car with the rank, sharp smell of vinegar.

Something else was bothering her too; up until today, Dougie’s mother had always been perfectly charming whenever they’d met.

‘I thought you liked me.’

‘Of course you did.’ Mrs Tennant sounded entertained. ‘That was the whole idea. I know what young people are like, you see. If a parent announces that they don’t approve of their children’s choice of partner, it’s only going to make them that much more determined to stay together.

Fuelling the flame and all that. Goodness no, far better to pretend everything’s rosy and you think their choice is wonderful, then let the relationship fizzle out of its own accord.’

‘But ours isn’t going to fizzle out,’ said Lola.

‘So you keep telling me. That’s why I’m giving it a helping hand. Goodness, this traffic is a nightmare today. Is it left down here at the traffic lights or straight on?’

‘Left. And how’s Dougie going to feel when he hears what you’ve said to me today?’

‘Well, I should imagine he’d be very annoyed with me. If you told him.’ Mrs Tennant paused for effect. ‘But do yourself a favour, Lola. Don’t say anything just yet. Give yourself time to really think this through, because you do have a brain. And ten thousand pounds is an awful lot of money. All you have to do as soon as you’ve made up your mind is give me a ring when you know Dougie isn’t at home. And I’ll write out the cheque.’

‘You can stop the car. I’ll walk the rest of the way.’ No longer willing to remain in her boyfriend’s mother’s plush Jag, Lola jabbed a finger to indicate that she should pull in at the bus stop ahead.

‘Sure? OK then.’

Lola paused with her hand on the passenger door handle and looked at Dougie’s mother in her crisp white linen shirt and royal chignon. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Feel free.’

‘Why don’t you approve of me?’

‘You risk ruining my son’s future.’ Mrs Tennant didn’t hesitate. ‘We love each other. We could be happy together for the rest of our lives.’

No you couldn’t, Lola. Do you really not understand what I’m trying to explain here?You’re too brash and noisy, you have no class, you’re not good enough for Dougie. And,’ the older woman paused, her gaze lingering significantly over Lola’s low-cut red vest top and short denim skirt complete with grease stain, ‘you dress like a cheap tart.’

‘Can I ask you something else?’ said Lola. ‘How are you going to feel when Dougie refuses to ever speak to you again?’

And, heroically resisting the urge to tear open the parcel of chips and fling them in Dougie’s mother’s face, she climbed out of the car.

Back at home in Streatham — a far more modest house than Dougie’s, which his mother would surely sneer at — Lola paced the small blue and white living room like a caged animal and went over everything that had happened. OK, now what was she supposed to do? Dougie was currently up in Edinburgh for a few days, sorting out where he was going to be living come October and acquainting himself with the city that was due to be his home for the next three years. Doubtless Mrs Tennant had planned it this way with her usual meticulous attention to detail. Her own mother and stepfather were both out at work.The ticking of the clock in the kitchen was driving her demented. Bloody, bloody woman — how dare she do this to her? What a witch.

By four o’clock she could no longer bear to be confined. Deliberately not changing out of her low-cut top and far-too-shortdenim skirt, Lola left the house. What she was wearing was practically standard issue for teenagers on a hot summer’s day, for heaven’s sake — not tarty at all. And if she didn’t talk to someone about the situation, she would burst.

’Ten thousand pounds,’ said Jeannie.

‘Yes.’

‘I mean, ten thousand pounds.’

‘So?’ Lola banged down her Coke. ‘It doesn’t matter how much it is. She can’t go around doing stuff like that. It’s just sick.’

They were in McDonald’s. Jeannie noisily slurped her own Coke through two straws. ‘Can I say something?’

‘Can I stop you?’

‘OK, you say it’s a sick thing to do. And you’re going to say no. But what if Dougie comes back from Edinburgh on Friday and tells you he’s met someone else? What if he sits you down and says, "Look, sorry and all that, but I bumped into this really fit girl in a bar, we ended up in bed and she’s just fantastic"?’ Pausing to suck up the last dregs of her Coke, Jeannie pointed the straw at Lola. ‘What if he tells you you’re dumped?’

Oh, for heaven’s sake.

‘Dougie wouldn’t do that.’

‘He might.’

‘He wouldn’t.’

‘But he might,’ said Jeannie. ‘OK, maybe not this week, or even this month. But sooner or later the chances are that you two will break up. You’re seventeen years old. How many seventeen-year-olds spend the rest of their lives with their first love? Let’s face it, that’s why it’s called first love, because you go on to have loads more. You’re too young to stay with the same person, Lola. And so’s Dougie. I know you’re crazy about each other now, but that’s not going to last.

And if Dougie is the one who finishes it, you can’t go running to his mother crying that you’ve changed your mind and can you have the money now please? Because it’ll be too late by then.You’ll have lost out big time. Think about it, you’ll be all on your own.’ Mock sorrowfully, Jeannie clutched her chest. ‘Heartbroken. No more Dougie Tennant and no ten thousand pounds.’

So that was the advice from a so-called friend. Well, what else should she have expected from someone like Jeannie, whose parents had fought an epic divorce battle and left her with a jaundiced view of relationships? Jeannie now despised her mother’s new husband and was escaping all the hassle at home by moving to Majorca. The plan was to work in a bar, dance on the beach and generally have the time of her life. Sleep with lots of men but very definitely not get emotionally involved with any of them. Any kind of romantic relationship was out.

The memory of Dougie’s mother continued to haunt Lola all the way home, that pale patrician face and disparaging voice letting her know in no uncertain terms why she was nowhere near good enough for her precious son.

Lola pictured the smirk on that face ifJeannie’s cheery prediction were to come true. Then again, imagine how she’d react if she and Dougie defied her and got married! Ha, wouldn’t that be fabulous?

Except ... except .. .

I’m seventeen, I don’t want to get married just to spite someone. I’m too young.

Back home again, Lola was overcome by an overwhelmingurge to speak to Dougie. No plan in her head, but she’d play it by ear. When she heard his voice she would decide what to do, whether or not to tell him that his mother was the world’s biggest witch. God, how would he feel when he found out?

Dougie was staying in a bed and breakfast in Edinburgh. The number was on the pad next to the phone in the narrow hallway. Dialling it, Lola checked her watch; it was five o’clock. He should be there now, back from his visit to the university campus .. .

‘No, dear, I’m afraid you’ve missed him: The landlady of the B&B had a kindly, Edinburgh-accented voice. ‘They came back an hour ago, Dougie changed and showered and thén they were off. Said they were going to check out the pubs on Rose Street!’

‘Oh.’ Lola’s heart sank; she’d so wanted to hear his voice. ‘Who was he with?’

‘I didn’t catch their names, pet. Another boy and two girls .. . isn’t it lovely to see him making new friends already? The boy’s from Manchester and the pretty blonde one’s from Abergavenny! I must say, they do seem absolutely charming. I’ll tell him you rang, shall I?

Although goodness knows what time he’ll be back ...’

Hanging up, Lola heard Jeannie’s words again. It wasn’t that she was overwhelmed with jealousy that Dougie had gone out for the evening with a group of new friends, two of whom happened to be female. It was just the realisation that this was the first of many hundreds of nights when she would be apart from him and Lola started as a floorboard creaked overhead; she’d thought the house was empty.

She called out, ‘Hello?’

No reply.

‘Mum?’ Lola frowned. ‘Dad?’

Still nothing. Had the floorboard just creaked on its own or was someone up there? But the house seemed secure and a burglar would have his work cut out, climbing in through a bedroom window. Taking an umbrella as a precaution, Lola made her way upstairs.

What she saw when she pushed open the white painted door of her parents’ bedroom shocked her to the core.

Chapter 2

’Dad?’ Lola’s stomach clenched in fear. Something was horribly, horribly wrong. Her stepfather

— the only father she’d ever known, the man she loved with all her heart — was packing a case, his face almost unrecognisable.

‘Go downstairs.’ He turned his back on her, barely able to speak.

Lola was shaking. ‘Dad, what is it?’

‘Please, just leave me alone.’

‘No! I won’t! Tell me what’s wrong.’ Dropping the umbrella, she cried, ‘Why are you packing?

Are you ill? Are you going to hospital? Is it cancer?’

Grief-stricken, he shook his head. ‘I’m not ill, not in that way. Lola, this is nothing to do with you ... I didn’t want you to see me like this . .

It was such an unimaginable situation that Lola didn’t know what to think. When she approached him he made a feeble attempt to fend her off with one arm.

‘Daddy, tell me,’ Lola whispered in desperation and tears sprang into his eyes.

Covering his face, he sank onto the bed. ‘Oh Lola, I’m sorry’

She had never been so frightened in her life. ‘I’m going to phone Mum.’

‘No, you mustn’t.’

‘Are you having an affair? Is that why you’re packing? Don’t you want to live with us any more?’

Another shake of the head. ‘It’s nothing like that.’

‘So tell me what it is then.’ Lola’s voice wavered; they were both crying now ‘You have to, because I’m scared!’ - Twenty minutes later she knew everything. Unbelievable though it seemed, Alex had been gambling and they’d never even suspected it. Through his twice-weekly visits to a snooker club he had been introduced to a crowd of card players and gradually, without even realising it, he’d found himself being sucked in. They had all met regularly at a house in Bermondsey to play poker and at first Alex had done pretty well. Now, he suspected that this had been the plan all along. Then the tide had turned, he had begun to lose and the genial group had made light of his run of bad luck. When the losses had mounted up to a worrying degree, Alex had confided in them that he needed time to pay back what he owed them. It was at this point that the genial group had stopped being genial and begun to threaten him. Terrified by the change in them, realising he was in way over his head, Alex had done the only thing possible and concentrated all his energies on winning back all the money he’d lost. Since his bank manager wouldn’t have appreciated this as a sensible business plan, he’d borrowed the money from the friend who’d introduced him to the poker group in the first place.

A week later he’d lost it all.

He borrowed an emergency sum from a money-lender, tried again.

Lost that too.

Meanwhile his family was oblivious. When Lola’s mum asked him if he was all right, he explained that he was just tired and she told him he shouldn’t be working so hard. The following night, as he was leaving the garage where he worked as a mechanic, he was stopped by two heavies in a van who explained in graphic detail what they would do to him if he didn’t repay every penny he owed by this time next week.

This time next week was now tomorrow and desperate times called for desperate measures. Sick with shame and in fear for his life — the heavies had been phoning him regularly, reminding him that the countdown was on — Alex had decided to disappear. It was the only answer; he couldn’t admit to Blythe what he’d done, the hideous mess he’d made of his life. She and Lola meant everything in the world to him and he couldn’t bear it any longer. If Lola had arrived home half an hour later he would have been gone for good.

‘I wish you had,’ he said heavily. ‘You told us you were going shopping in Oxford Street this afternoon. I thought I was safe here.’

Shopping in Oxford Street. She’d completely forgotten about that after Dougie’s mother had dropped her bombshell.

Lola, her face wet with tears, said, ‘But I didn’t, and now I know’

‘I still have to go. I can’t face your mother. I’d be better off dead,’ said Alex in desperation. ‘But I’d rather do it my way than stay to find out what those bastards have in store for me .. . oh God, I can’t believe this is happening, how could I have been so stupid ...’

Hugging him tightly, Lola already knew she had no choice. Her biological father, an American boy, had done a bunk the moment he’d found out that Blythe was pregnant. But it hadn’t mattered because Alex had come along two years later. He loved Lola as if she were his own daughter. He had made her boiled eggs with toast soldiers, he’d taught her to ride a bike, together they had made up silly songs and driven her mother mad, singing them over and over again; she had run to him when she’d been stung by a wasp, he had driven her all the way to Birmingham to see a boy band who were playing at the NEC. His love for her was absolutely unconditional .. .

‘I can help you,’ said Lola. ‘You don’t have to leave.’

‘Trust me, I do.’

Dry-eyed – this was too important for tears - she said, ‘I can get the money for you.’

‘Sweetheart, you can’t. It’s fifteen thousand pounds.’

Her stomach in knots, Lola didn’t allow herself to think of the repercussions. ‘I can get you most of it.’

And when Alex shook his head in disbelief she told him how.

When she’d finished he shook his head with even more vehemence. ‘No, no, I can’t let you do that. No way in the world, absolutely not.’

But what was the alternative? For him to disappear from their lives? For her to lose the only father she had ever known? For her mother’s world to be shattered?

‘Listen to me.’ Although her own heart felt as if it were breaking in two, Lola played her trump card. ‘Mum would never need to know’

’Lola. How nice to see you again.’ Adele Tennant opened her front door and stepped to one side.

‘Come on in.’

Following her across the echoing, high-ceilinged hall, Lolafelt sick and dizzy but grimly determined. Mustn’t, mustn’t pass out. She’d barely slept last night, hadn’t been able to eat anything either.

‘I’m glad you’ve seen sense.’ Adele sat down at the desk in her study and reached for her chequebook. Next to her, morning sunlight bounced off the glass on a silver photo frame.

Shifting position to avoid the glare, Lola saw that it was a photograph of Adele and her children, Dougie on the left and Sally on the right. The photo had been taken a couple of years ago while they were on holiday somewhere unbelievably exotic, with palm trees and an ocean the colour of lapis lazuli, because Adele Tennant didn’t take her holidays in Margate. Dougie, tanned and grinning in a white shirt, was looking carefree and heartbreakingly gorgeous. Sally, the older sister Lola had never met, was blonde and pretty in a flamingo-pink sarong. Now twenty-six and engaged to an Irish landowner, she was living with him in the Wicklow Mountains outside Dublin. Dougie adored his sister and Lola had been looking forward to getting to know her.

Her throat tightened. That wouldn’t be happening now ‘You won’t regret this.’ Adele crisply uncapped a fat black fountain pen and hovered the glinting nib above the cheque. The old witch couldn’t wait.

‘Hang on a minute.’ Lola briefly closed her eyes, wondering if she could do this.Yes, she could.

‘Ten thousand isn’t enough.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘It isn’t enough.’ She had to say it. ‘I need fifteen. Then I’ll leave Dougie alone. I’ll never see him again.’

‘The cheek of you!’

Lola’s mouth was bone-dry. ‘Otherwise I’ll move up to Edinburgh.’

Adele shot her a look of utter loathing. Frankly, Lola didn’t blame her one bit.

‘You are beyond the pale.’

Lola felt sicker than ever. ‘I need the money.’

‘Eleven thousand,’ Adele retaliated. ‘And that’s it.’

‘Fourteen,’ said Lola. What if she threw up all over Adele’s Persian rug?

‘Twelve.’

‘Thirteen.’

Twelve and a half.’

‘Done: That was it, she’d haggled her way up to twelve and a half thousand pounds.As far as Dougie’s mother was concerned, she was now officially despicable beyond belief. But it was enough to get Alex out of trouble; his boss at the garage was able to loan him the rest.

‘I hope you’re proud of yourself.’ Adele dismissively wrote out the newly agreed sum.

Lola could so easily have burst into tears. She willed herself to stay in control. ‘I’m not. I just need the money.’

‘And hallelujah for that.’ Adele, for whom twelve and a half thousand wasn’t that much money at all, smiled her chilly, unamused smile. ‘So what are you going to be spending it on?’

As she said it, her gaze slid disparagingly over Lola in her turquoise vest, jeans and flip-flops.

It was all over now. No more Dougie. She no longer had to try to impress his mother. ‘Moving abroad,’ said Lola. ‘New bikinis. Silicone implants. Isn’t that what you’d expect?’

‘It’s your money now. I don’t care what you do with it, so long as you keep out of my son’s life.’

Adele paused. ‘Will you tell him about this?’

‘No.’ Lola shook her head and took the cheque which Alexwould pay into his account this morning. He had arranged an overdraft to cover the days before it cleared. In exchange she handed over to Adele the letter she’d written this morning, the hardest letter she’d ever had to write. ‘I’m just going to finish with him. You can give him this when he gets home. I’ll be out of the country by then.’

‘Delighted to hear it. Dougie will be over you in no time, but I agree it’s best to put some distance between you. Well, I’ll show you out.’ Adele rose to her feet and ushered Lola back through the house. Evidently relieved that Dougie wouldn’t be discovering the part she had played in seeing off his undesirable girlfriend, she smiled again at the front door and said,

‘Goodbye, Lola. It’s been an education doing business with you.’

This was it, this was really it. Lola’s throat swelled up and for a moment she considered ripping the cheque into tiny pieces.

It was what she wanted to do. But then what would happen to Alex?

‘I do love Dougie.’ Her voice cracked; she still couldn’t imagine living without him. ‘I really, really do.’

Opening the door with a flourish, Adele said cheerfully, ‘But you love money more.’

The moment he arrived home three days later, Dougie had only one thing on his mind.

‘Hi, Mum, you OK?’ He dumped his rucksack in the hall and kissed Adele on the cheek. ‘Just going to shoot over to Lola’s.’

Adele hugged her clever, handsome eighteen-year-old son, the light of her life. ‘Actually there’s a letter here for you from Lola.’

It had almost killed her not to steam open the envelope.

Now, as Dougie scanned the contents and she saw the colour drain from his face, Adele knew she’d been right to do as she had. He was far too fond of the girl for any good to come of it; at his age it was ridiculous to have let himself get so involved with any girl, let alone one as unequal socially as Lola Malone, the cheaply dressed daughter of a mechanic.

‘What does it say?’

‘Nothing’ Pain mingled with disbelief in Dougie’s dark eyes as he crumpled the letter in his fist and headed upstairs.

Adele didn’t want to see him hurt, but it was for his own good. It was for the best. Calling up after Dougie she said, ‘Are you hungry, darling? Can I get you something to eat?’

‘No’ He turned abruptly, his jaw set. ‘How did you know the letter was from Lola?’

Adele thought fast. ‘I was upstairs when I heard something coming through the letterbox.When I looked out of the window she was running up the road. Why don’t I make you a roast beef sandwich, nice and rare?’

‘Mum, I’m not hungry.’

Adele’s heart went out to him. ‘Sweetheart, is everything all right?’

‘It will be.’ Filled with resolve, Dougie nodded and said evenly, ‘I’m going to my room, then I’m going out. And yes, everything will be all right.’

But it wasn’t, thank God. Lola had kept her part of the bargain. The moment Dougie left the house, Adele infiltrated his room and found the crumpled-up note under the bed.

Dear Dougie, Sorry to do it like this, but it’s easier than face to face. It’s over, Dougie, I don’t want to see you any more. We’ve had fun and I don’t regret our relationship but my feelings for you have changed recently, the magic just seems to have gone. I don’t want to move up to Edinburgh with you, it’s not my kind of place, and the thought of all that travelling up to see you is just too much. It’d never work out – we both know that, deep down. So I’ve decided to go abroad, somewhere hot and sunny. Don’t bother trying to contact me because I’ve made up my mind. You’ll find someone else in no time, and so will I.

Have a good life, Dougie. Sorry about this but you know it makes sense.

Cheers, Lola x

Adele nodded approvingly, crumpled the note back up again and replaced it under the bed.

Good girl. She couldn’t have put it better herself.

Together-forever, together-forever, together-forever. The words sang tauntingly through Doug’s head in time with the rhythmic rattle of the tube train over the tracks. Just last week – seven days ago – he and Lola had taken a picnic up to Parliament Hill. Lola had let out a squeal of mock outrage when he’d pinched the last sausage roll. He’d run off with it, she’d caught him up and wrestled him to the ground and he’d given the sausage roll to her. They’d shared it in the end, laughing and kissing the crumbs from each other’s lips. It was a warm sunny day and new freckles, baby ones, had sprung up across Lola’s tanned nose. He’d rolled her onto her back and teased her about them, holding her arms above her head so she couldn’t dig him in the ribs. And then they’d stopped laughing and gazed into each other’s eyes, both recognising that what they were experiencing was one of those perfect moments you never forget.

‘Oh Dougie, I love you.’ Lola had whispered the words, her voice catching with emotion. ‘We’ll be together forever, won’t we? Promise me we’ll be together forever.’

And he had. Furthermore he’d meant it. Now, sitting in the swaying carriage gazing blindly out of the window as the train clattered along singing its mocking song, Doug wondered what could have happened to make it all go so wrong.

’She’s gone, love. I’m so sorry. You know what Lola’s like once she makes up her mind about something — whoosh, that’s it, off like a rocket.’

Dougie couldn’t believe it. Lola had left. It was actually happening. One minute everything had been fine and they’d been completely, deliriously happy together, the next minute she’d disappeared off the face of the earth. It wasn’t manly and it wasn’t something he’d admit to his friends in a million years, but the pain of loss was so devastating it felt as if his heart might actually break.

Instead, struggling to retain his composure, Dougie swallowed the golf ball in his throat. Did she say why?’

‘Not really.’ Blythe shrugged helplessly, as baffled as he was. ‘Just said she fancied a change.

Her friend Jeannie was moving to Majorca, they met up for a chat and the next day Lola announced that she was going out there with Jeannie. To live. Well, we were shocked! And I did ask her if she’d thought things through, what with you two having been so close, but there was no stopping her. I really am sorry, love. She should have told you herself.’

It didn’t help that Lola’s mother was looking at him as if hewere an abandoned puppy in a cardboard box; she was sympathetic but there was nothing she could do.

‘Do you have a phone number for her? An address?’

‘Sorry, love, I can’t do that. She doesn’t want you to contact her. I think she just feels you have your own lives to lead.’ Lola’s mum struggled to console him.

As if anything could. Dougie raked his fingers through his hair in desperation. ‘Is she seeing someone else?’

‘No.’Vigorously Blythe shook her head. ‘Definitely not that.’

He didn’t know if that made things better or worse. Being dumped in favour of someone else was one thing, but being dumped in favour of no one at all was an even bigger kick in the teeth.

Controlling his voice with difficulty, Dougie said, ‘Can you do me a favour? Just tell her that if she changes her mind, she knows where I am.’

‘I’ll do that, love.’ For a moment Blythe’s blue eyes swam and she looked as if she might be about to fling her arms around him. Terrified that if she did he might burst into tears and ruin his street cred for life, Dougie hurriedly stepped away from the front door.

‘Thanks.’

Chapter 3

Seven Years Ago

’Oh Lola, look at you.’ Squeezing her tightly, Blythe slipped instantly into mother hen mode.

‘It’s February. You’ll catch your death of cold!’

‘Mum, I’m twenty, you’re not allowed to nag me any more.’ But secretly Lola enjoyed it.

Hugging her mother in return, she then teasingly lifted the hem of her top to show off her toffee-brown Majorcan tan.

‘You’ll be frostbitten once we get outside.’ Taking one of Lola’s squashy travelling bags, Blythe began threading her way through the crowded airport to the exit. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to pull a jumper out of your case?’

‘Quite sure. What’s the point of being browner than anyone else and covering it all up with a jumper? Oh Mum, stop a moment, let me hug you again. I’ve missed you so much.’

‘You daft thing. How’s it going with Stevie?’

‘It’s gone. I’m not seeing him any more. We drifted apart.’ Lola smiled to show how little it mattered. Stevie had been fun but their relationship had never been serious. Patting her stomachshe said, ‘And I’m starving. Are we going straight home or shall I pick up a burger here?’

‘No burgers today. We’re eating out. Alex is treating us to lunch,’ said Blythe. ‘He’s booked a table at Emerson’s in Piccadilly.’

‘Whoo-hoo, lunch at Emerson’s.There’s posh,’ Lola marvelled. ‘What have we done to deserve this?’

Blythe gave her arm a squeeze. ‘No special reason, love. It’s just wonderful to have you back.’

Her mother had been lying. There was a special reason. Alex waited until they’d chosen their food before ordering a bottle of champagne.

‘Alex, have you gone mad?’ And it was real champagne. This was plain reckless; when Lola had been growing up she’d never even been allowed proper Coca-Cola at home, only the pretend kind because it was cheaper.

‘I’m out of the business,’ said Alex as the waiter brought the bottle to the table.

‘Oh no.’ Lola’s heart sank; then again she’d always known it was a risky venture. Following her departure from home three years ago, Alex had given up gambling, just like that. Since that terrible time when they’d almost lost him he hadn’t so much as joined in a sweepstake on the Grand National. He had given up visiting his snooker club too. Instead he had stayed at home every night, becoming more and more interested in the business opportunities being offered up by the fast-expanding internet. When he’d come up with a germ of an idea for a web-based hotel booking service, Lola had listened and nodded politely without really understanding how it might work. As far as she was concerned Alex could have been yabbering away in Elvish. All this internetty stuff sounded pretty far-fetched to her; she’d had very little to do with it herself.

But Alex had persisted, eventually setting up a company and working on it in his spare time.

Then last year he’d given up his job at the garage in order to devote more hours to it. Lola had been under the impression that things were going rather well.

Oh God ... she hoped he hadn’t slipped and gone back to gambling.

‘So’ Here came the sick feeling of dread again. ‘What went wrong?’

Alex’s eyes crinkled at the corners, the lines emphasised by the light from the candle on the table.

‘Nothing went wrong. It was too much for me to handle. I’d have needed to take on staff, find proper offices ... I couldn’t deal with everything myself.’

Lola nodded. ‘Mum said you were working all hours.’

‘I never imagined it would take off like that. It was incredible, but it was scary. Then another company approached me,’ Alex explained. ‘They offered to buy me out.’

‘Oh! Well, that must have been a relief.’As long as Alex wasn’t gambling again, she was happy.

‘It is a relief.’ Alex gravely nodded in agreement and raised his fizzing glass. ‘So here’s to us.’

‘To us.’ Lola enthusiastically clinked glasses with them both and took a big gulp of delicious icy-cold champagne.

‘By the way,’ said Alex, ‘I sold the business for one point six million.’

Luckily the champagne had already disappeared down her throat, otherwise she’d have sprayed it across the table like a garden sprinkler.

‘Are you serious?’

‘It’s true!’ Blythe’s eyes danced. ‘You don’t know how hard it’s been for me not to tell you. I nearly blurted it out at the airport!’

‘My God,’ Lola breathed.

‘And this is for you.’ Alex took a folded cheque from his inside pocket and passed it across the table.

‘My God.’ Lola’s hands began to tremble as she counted the noughts, then recounted them. For several seconds she couldn’t speak. Her mother had never found out about the traumatic events of three years ago, which made it all the more difficult to say what she wanted to say. But Alex, although he hadn’t needed to, was paying her back many, many times over. It was too late, but he so badly wanted to make amends for what she had been forced to do in order to save her family.

Finally, unsteadily, Lola said, ‘Alex, you don’t need to do this.’ Their eyes met. He smiled.

‘You’re my daughter. Why wouldn’t I?’

‘I said it was too much,’ Blythe chimed in proudly, ‘but he insisted. Now, you’re not to fritter it away!’

‘You can afford to move out of that poky little rented apartment of yours,’ said Alex, ‘and buy yourself a villa up in the hills. That wouldn’t be frittering.’

Unable to contain herself, Lola jumped up out of her chair and threw her arms around him.

Never mind a villa up in the hills; now she could afford to move back to London and buy herself somewhere to live here.

Because Majorca might be brilliant in many ways, but there really was no place like home.

‘Lola.’Appalled by the attention she was receiving, Blythe frantically attempted to tug down her daughter’s short skirt. ‘Stand up straight, for heaven’s sake. Everyone’s looking at your pants!’

There was always something deliciously disorientating about emerging from a dark, candlelit restaurant at three thirty in the afternoon and discovering that it was still daylight outside, albeit chilly grey city daylight.

But the greyness didn’t matter, because it only made the brightly illuminated shops all the more enticing. Like a human magnet Lola found herself being drawn irresistibly in the direction of the biggest, sparkliest shops.

‘We’ll leave you to it.’ Her mother and Alex couldn’t be persuaded to join her. ‘Don’t spend too much.’

‘Mum, I haven’t been home for four months! I’ve got some catching up to do:

‘Maybe a nice warm coat.’ Blythe could never resist a dig.

When they’d headed back to the car, Lola threaded her way through the narrow back streets of Piccadilly until she reached Regent Street. Oh yes, here they were, the department stores she’d missed so much, with their elegant beauty halls and perfume departments and escalators that led to other floors awash with yet more gorgeous things to lust over .. .

Better still, here was Kingsley’s.

Lola paused at the entrance, savouring the moment. Department stores were fabulous but they still came second to bookshops in her heart. Alcudia in Majorca had many things going for it but the sad collection of battered and faded English-language paperbacks on the rickety carousels in the beachfront souvenir shops wasn’t one of them. She craved a proper bookshop like an addict craves a fix. There really wasn’t much that could beat that gorgeous new-book smell, touching the covers and turning the pages of a book whose pages had, just possibly, never been turned before.

And if it was weird to feel like that, well, she just didn’t care. Some people were obsessed with shoes and loved them with apassion. Shoes were fine but you couldn’t stay up all night reading one, could you?

Anyway, it was freezing out here on the pavement; she might as well be naked for all the good her clothes were doing. With a delicious shiver of anticipation Lola plunged into the welcoming warmth of Kingsley’s.

Oh, look at them all. So many books, so little time. All those piles and piles of delicious hardbacks with glossy covers, crying out to be bought and devoured. Lola ran her fingers over them, prolonging the moment and not realising she had a dopey smile on her face until another customer caught her eye and smiled back.

‘Sorry.’ Several glasses of champagne over lunch had loosened her tongue. ‘I live in Majorca, so it’s been a while since I saw so many books.’

The man’s ears promptly glowed pink. ‘Lucky you. So, um, whereabouts in Majorca?’

‘Alcudia, up on the north side of the island.’

‘I know Alcudia!’ The man, who was middle-aged, blurted out, ‘I go there with my mother every year. We stay in an apartment in the old town. What a coincidence!’

Hmm, not that much of one, seeing as a zillion holidaymakers invaded Alcudia each year, but Lola was touched by his enthusiasm. ‘Well, I work in a restaurant down by the harbour. So if you fancy some great seafood next time you’re there, you’ll have to drop by for a meal.’

The man’s face was by this time so scarlet with excitement that she began to fear for his blood pressure. ‘That sounds most enjoyable. Mother isn’t tremendously keen on seafood, but I daresay chef could whisk her up an omelette as a special favour to you.’ He hesitated. ‘Unless ... um, are you very expensive?’

‘Not expensive at all. In fact, very reasonable. And you can ask for anything you like. We’re very obliging,’ Lola assured him with a smile. ‘You’ll have a great time, that’s a promise.’

The man, who clearly didn’t get out much, said eagerly, ‘What’s the name of the place? And whereabouts exactly are you? You’d better give me directions.’

‘I can do better than that.’ Flipping open her silver handbag, Lola fished out one of the restaurant’s business cards and handed it over.

‘Thanks.’ The man beamed. He squirrelled it away and checked his watch. It’s a date, then.

Gosh, is that the time? I need to get to a cashpoint before—’

‘Excuse me,’ barked a voice behind them, ‘that’s quite enough. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’

Bemused, Lola turned and saw that she was being addressed by a big-boned, grey-haired female member of staff who was positively aquiver with disapproval.

‘I’m sorry, are you speaking to me?’

‘Ha, don’t give me any of your smart talk. Come on, off you go, leave our customers alone.’ The woman stuck out her arm, pointing to the door like a traffic cop. ‘Out, out. We don’t need your sort in here.’

What?’ Lola’s mouth dropped open; was the woman completely deranged? Half laughing in disbelief, she turned to the man next to her but he was backing away, petrified.

‘Plying your filthy trade in here, pestering genuine customers,’ the woman went on furiously.

‘It’s disgusting and I won’t have it happening in this shop.’

‘Plying my trade?’ Lola’s eyebrows shot up. ‘What are you talking about? I’m not a prostitute!’

‘Don’t argue with me, young lady. I heard what you were saying to that gentleman. Look at you!’ The woman jabbed an accusing finger at Lola’s skimpy white top, abbreviated lime-green skirt and long bare legs. ‘It’s perfectly clear what you are!’ She turned to the man for back-up.

‘What did you think when you saw her?’

‘Um ... well ...’ In an agony of embarrassment he stammered, ‘I s-suppose she is r-rather exotically dressed.’ Oh, for crying out loud.

‘I live in Majorca! I just flew back today! I didn’t know it was going to be this cold here! Tell her what we were talking about,’ Lola demanded, but it was too late. Mortified, the man had scurried out of the shop.

‘And you can get out too, before I call the police.’The woman wore a look of triumph. ‘This is a respectable shop and we don’t need people like you coming in here, reeking of drink and propositioning innocent men: Walking out now wasn’t an option; it simply wasn’t in Lola’s nature. If someone said, ‘don’t touch that, it’s hot’, she had to touch it to discover how hot. If they said, ‘don’t jump off that wall, you’ll hurt yourself’, she was compelled to jump off the wall to find out just how much it would hurt.

The woman, she now saw from the name badge, was an assistant called Pat.

‘I came in here to buy books and I’ll leave when I’ve bought them.’ Refusing to be intimidated, Lola said coolly, ‘But before I go, I’ll be having a word with your manager.’

Fifteen minutes later she made her way to the till with an armful of books, aware that word of her set-to with Pat had spread around the store. Pat was no longer anywhere in sight. Other members of staff were covertly observing her from a distance. The young lad on the till rang up Lola’s purchases and did his best not to look at her legs.

‘Could I speak to the manager please?’ said Lola.

He nodded, picked up the phone and muttered a few words into it.

Lola waited.

Finally a door at the back opened and a slender woman in her forties emerged.

It was like the gunfight at the OK Corral.

The woman approached Lola and said, ‘I’m so sorry about Pat, she’s just been telling me what happened and I’d like to apologise on behalf of Kingsley’s. The thing is, Pat’s retiring in six weeks and if you make a formal complaint it’ll spoil everything for her.’

‘I—’

‘And I probably shouldn’t be telling you this but she does have a bit of a bee in her bonnet about, um, working girls.’ Lowering her voice to a whisper the woman said, ‘Her husband, you see, ran off with one and Pat was beside herself, especially when she found out she used to be a man. The girl I mean. Not Pat. Poor thing, she was devastated. So that’s why she overreacted. I’m really, really sorry. I’ve had a talk with her and she’ll never do it again.’

‘Well, good,’ said Lola. ‘I’m happy to hear that?

The manager looked hopeful. ‘So does that mean everything’s OK? You won’t make an official complaint?’

‘No, I won’t.’

‘Oh thank you! Thank you so much.’ She clasped Lola’s hand in gratitude. ‘That’s so good of you. Poor old Pat, I know she shouldn’t have said those dreadful things, but she’s had a tough time and in a way I’m sure you can understand why she’d get upset—’

I’m not a prostitute,’ said Lola.

This stopped the manageress in her tracks.

‘Oh!’ Covering her surprise, the woman hastily backtracked. ‘Of course you aren’t! I didn’t mean it to sound like that! Heavens, of course I didn’t think that!’

Lola grinned because an outfit that wouldn’t merit so much as a second glance in Alcudia clearly held other connotations in a London bookshop in chilly November. Maybe the time had come to start modifying her wardrobe.

‘I think you did. Don’t worry about it. And you haven’t asked me yet why I wanted to see you.’

The woman looked flustered. ‘Right. Sorry, I’m in a bit of a muddle now. So why did you want to see me?’

‘This.’ Lola tapped the sign on the counter, identical to the one she’d spotted in the window earlier. ‘It says you have a vacancy for a sales assistant.’

‘We do. To replace Pat when she leaves.’

Better and better.

‘Do you need many qualifications for that?’

‘You need to love books.’

‘I love books,’ said Lola.

The manageress looked stunned. ‘You mean you’re interested? In this job?’

It was clearly an extraordinary request. ‘Sorry, would I not be allowed to work here?’

‘It’s not that! I just thought Pat said you lived abroad.’

Lola smiled at the woman and said, ‘I think it’s time I moved back.’

Chapter 4

Present Day

’You work where? In a bookies?’

‘In a bookshop.’ Even as she yelled the words above the blaring music, Lola wondered why she was bothering. ‘Kingsley’s. I’m the manager of the Regent Street branch!

‘God, rather you than me. Books are boring:The boy winked and leered over the rim of his beer glass at Lola, evidently convinced of his own irresistibility. He had super-gelled hair and a knowing grin. Having subjected her to a slow, appreciative once-over he said, ‘Nah, you’re having me on. You don’t look like the manager of a bookshop.’

What she could have said in reply to this was, ‘Well, you don’t look like a dickhead, but you clearly are one.’

‘Well, I am,’ Lola said patiently. ‘I promise.’

‘You should be wearing granny glasses and, like, a scuzzy old cardigan or something. And no make-up.’

Lola knew what she should be doing; she should be punching the stupid smirk off his face.

Aloud she said, ‘I’m guessing you don’t go into many bookshops.’

‘Me? No way.’ Proudly the boy said, ‘Can’t stand reading, waste of time. Hey, fancy a drink?’

‘No thanks. Can’t stand drinking, waste of time.’

He looked shocked. ‘Really?’

‘Not really. But drinking with you would be a huge waste of time.’ Lola excused herself and made her way over to the bar where Gabe, whose leaving party it was, was chatting to a group of friends from work.

‘Gabe? I’m going to head home.’

He turned, horrified. ‘No! It’s only nine o’clock.’

‘I know. I just feel like an early night.’

‘An early what? Hang on, where’s the real Lola?’ Gabe inspected her face closely. ‘Tell me what you’ve done with her.’

Lola grinned, because she was as mystified as he was; she absolutely wasn’t the early night type.

Parties were normally her favourite thing.

‘I know it’s weird. Maybe I’m going down with something. Anyway, you have a great time.’

Reaching up and giving Gabe a hug she said, ‘I’ll knock on your door with tea and Panadol in the morning.’

He looked even more alarmed. ‘Make it tomorrow evening and I might be awake.’

Lola left the bar, shivering as a splatter of icy rain slapped her in the face. If it was raining, the chances of managing to flag down a cab were slim to nil so she set off in the direction of the tube, tugging her cropped velvet jacket around her in an attempt to huddle up against the cold and click-clacking along the pavement in her pink sparkly heels.

It wasn’t as if it was Gabe’s only leaving party; this was just a motley collection of people from the offices where he worked as a chartered surveyor. Had worked there, anyway, for the past four years, although as from today he was out of a job and ready for the adventure of a lifetime in Australia.

Lola made her way down the street, pleased for Gabe but aware of how much she would miss him. When she’d moved back to London seven years ago with the unexpected windfall from the sale of Alex’s business burning a hole in her bank account, she had fallen in love with the third flat she’d visited.

She’d felt a bit like Goldilocks on that eventful day. The first flat, in Camden, had been too small. The second, in Islington, had been larger but too dark and gloomy and had smelled of mushrooms.

Happily, the third had been just right. In fact it had exceeded Lola’s wildest dreams. Radley Road was a pretty street in Notting Hill where the houses were multicoloured — like Balamory!

Yes! — and number 73 was azure blue and white. On the second floor was Flat 73B, a spacious one-bed apartment with a view from the living room over the street below and windows big enough to let the sun stream in. The kitchen and the bathroom were both tiny but clean. The moment Lola had stood in that flat she’d known she had to have it. It was calling her name.

Never one to take her time and ask sensible probing questions, she had swung round to the estate agent with tears of joy in her eyes, clasped her hands to her chest and exclaimed, ‘It’s perfect. I want to buy it! This is The One!’

Whereas what she should have said was, ‘Haim, not too bad I suppose. What are the neighbours like?’

But she hadn’t, thereby allowing the super-smooth estate agent to send up a silent prayer of thanks for hopelessly impulsive property buyers everywhere and say jovially, ‘That’s what I like to see, a girl who knows her own mind!’

And Lola, who now knew just how gullible she’d been, had beamed and taken it as a compliment.

But neighbours were an important factor to be taken into consideration, as she had duly discovered on the day she’d moved into Flat 73B. Sharing the second floor, directly across the landing from her, was Flat 73C. Ringing the doorbell that afternoon in order to introduce herself, Lola had been filled with goodwill and happy anticipation.

It had come as something of a shock when the door had been yanked open and a scrawny old man in his eighties had appeared, filled with malevolence and bile.

‘What d’you want? You woke me up.’

Lola exclaimed, ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, I just came to say hello. I’m Lola Malone, your new neighbour!’

‘And?’

‘Um, well, I just moved in across the hall. This afternoon!’ The man eyed her with naked dislike.

‘So I heard, all that bloody racket you made getting your stuff upstairs.’

‘But—’

Too late. He’d already slammed the door in her face.

His name was Eric, Lola later discovered, and while he wouldn’t put up with any noise from her, he wasn’t averse to making plenty himself. He played the trumpet, quite astonishingly badly, at any hour of the day or night. He liked his TV to be on at full blast, possibly so he could carry on listening to it while he was playing his trumpet. He also cooked tripe at least three times a week and the smell permeated Lola’s flat like ... well actually, quite a lot like boiled cow’s stomach.

Oh yes, she’d gone and got herself a living, breathing nightmare of a neighbour. Too late, Lola realised why the estate agent, upon handing over the key on completion, had given her that cheery wink and said, ‘Good kick!’

Having respect for one’s elders was all very well, but Eric was a filthy-tempered, cantankerous old stoat who’d done everything in his power to make her life a misery.

After two years of this, Eric had died and Lola was just relieved he’d been out at his day centre when it happened; as her coworkers at Kingsley’s had pointed out, if he’d been found dead in his flat, everyone would have suspected her of bumping him off.

But the reign of Eric was over now, the flat had been cleaned up and put on the market, and Lola crossed her fingers, hoping for better luck this time.

And it had worked. She’d got gorgeous Gabe — hooray! — and like magic the quality of her home life had improved out of all recognition, because he was the best neighbour any girl could ask for.

Better still, she hadn’t fancied him one bit.

Gabriel Adams, with his floppy blond hair and lean slouchy body, had been twenty-nine when he’d moved into the flat across the landing from her. And this time he had been the one who’d knocked on Lola’s door to invite her over for a drink on his roof terrace.

Which meant she liked him already.

‘I never even knew there was a roof terrace.’ Lola marvelled at the view from the back of the house; it was like discovering a tropical island complete with hula girls in your dusty old broom cupboard.

‘It’s a suntrap.’ Gabe grinned at her. ‘I think I’m going to like it here. Does this T-shirt make me look gay?’

Since it was a vibrant shade of lilac, clearly expensive and quite tight-fitting, Lola said, ‘Well, a bit.’

‘I know, it’s too much. I’m super-tidy and a great cook. I can’t wear this as well.’ Pulling off the T-shirt to reveal an enviably tanned torso, Gabe held it towards her. ‘Do you want it or shall I chuck it away?’

It wasn’t just expensive, Lola discovered. It was Dolce and Gabbana. Liking her new neighbour more and more she said, ‘I’ll have it. Are you sure?’

‘Sure I’m sure.The colour’ll suit you. Better than me chucking it in the back of a drawer and never wearing it again.’

Except it wasn’t, because a week later as she was on her way out one evening, Lola bumped into Gabe and his girlfriend on their way in. The girlfriend, who had flashing dark eyes and an arm snaked possessively around Gabe’s waist, stopped dead in her tracks and said, ‘What are you doing wearing my boyfriend’s T-shirt?’

‘Um ... well, he g-gave it to ...’ Catching the look on Gabe’s face, Lola amended hastily, ‘I mean, he lent it to me, because I, um, asked if I could borrow it.’

The girlfriend shot her a killer glare before swinging round to Gabe. ‘I bought you that for your birthday! Don’t go lending it out to some girl just because she’s cheeky enough to ask to borrow it.’

The thing was, Gabe hadn’t done it on purpose. He hadn’t meant to cause trouble, he was simply thoughtless and so generous himself it didn’t occur to him that some people might not appreciate his actions.

But he broke up with that particular girl shortly afterwards and Lola had been able to start wearing the T-shirt again. From then on a stream of girlfriends came and went, entranced by the fact that Gabe was an entertaining, charming commitmentphobe. Each of them in turn was utterly convinced they would be the one to make him see the error of his ways and suddenly yearn for a life of monogamous domestic bliss.

Each of them, needless to say, was wrong.

Or had been, up until three months ago when Gabe had met an Australian backpacker called Jaydena on the last leg of her round-the-world trip. Jaydena had bucked the trend and been the one to leave Gabe, returning to Sydney when they’d only known each other for a couple of weeks and were still completely crazy about each other. Back in Australia, she emailed Gabe every day and he emailed her back. Within weeks she’d persuaded him to jack in his job and fly out to join her.

Lola was stunned when she heard. ‘But ... why?’

‘Because I’ve never been to Australia and everyone says it’s an incredible place. If I don’t go now I could regret it forever.’

‘So I might never see you again.’ It was a daunting prospect; Gabe was such a huge part of her life. And not only for the fun times. When Alex had died five years ago — suddenly, and desperately unfairly, of a heart attack — Lola had been distraught, unable to believe she’d never see her beloved father again. But Gabe had been a rock, helping her through that awful period.

She’d always be grateful to him for that.

‘Hey, I’m not selling the flat, just renting it out for a year. After that I could be back.’

Lola knew she would miss him terribly but alarm bells were ringing for another, far less altruistic reason. ‘Where are you going to find a new tenant? Through a lettings agency?’

‘Ha!’ Gabe gleefully prodded her in the ribs. ‘So it’s only yourself you’re worried about, panicking at the thought of who your new neighbour might be!

‘No. Well yes, that too.!

‘Already sorted. Marcus from work just split up with his wife. He’s moving in.’

Oh. Lola relaxed, because she knew Marcus and he was all right, if a bit on the boring side and inclined to yabber on about motorcycles. Which could well have had something to do with his marriage breaking up.

‘So no need to panic,’ said Gabe. ‘All taken care of.You two’ll get along fine!

‘Good.’ Visualising Marcus in his oil-stained, unfashionable clothes, Lola said, ‘But I can’t see me borrowing his T-shirts.’

Ugh, it was raining harder than ever now. Wishing she was wearing flatter shoes, Lola hurried along the road with her jacket collar up, then turned left down the side street that was a short cut to the tube station. She winced as her left foot landed in a puddle and Get off me, get off!

N0000!’

Chapter 5

Lola’s head jerked up, her heart thudding in her chest at the sight of the violent scene unfolding ahead of her. The woman’s piercing screams filled the air as she was dragged out of the driver’s seat of her car by two men who flung her roughly to the ground. One of them knelt over her, ripping at something on the woman’s hand. When she struggled against him he hit her in the face and snarled, ‘Shut up.’

But the woman let out another shriek of fright and he hit her again, harder this time, bouncing her head off the road. ‘I said shut it. Now give me your rings.’

‘No! Owww.’ The woman groaned as he wrenched back her arm.

‘Leave her alone!’ bellowed Lola, punching 999 into her phone and gasping, ‘Police, ambulance, Keveley Street.’ Filled with a boiling rage, she kicked off her shoes and raced down the road to the car. ‘Get off her!’

‘Yeah, right.’ The man sneered while his cohort revved the engine of the woman’s car.

‘Come on,’ bellowed the cohort, ‘hurry up, hurry up.’

‘Stop it!’ Lola grabbed hold of the attacker’s greasy hair andyanked his head back hard, shocked to see in the darkness that the face of the woman was covered in blood. ‘Leave her alone, I’ve called the police.’

‘Let go of me,’ roared the man, fighting to free himself.

‘No, I won’t.’ Grappling with him on the ground, Lola smelled alcohol on his fetid breath and felt ice-cold rain seeping through her tights. The woman was lying on her side facing away from her, curled up and moaning with pain. The man swore again and twisted like an eel to escape but Lola had him now and she was damned if she’d let him go before the- CRRRACKK, an explosion of noise and pain filled Lola’s head and she realised the other attacker had hit her from behind with some kind of weapon. Then everything melted and went black and she slumped to the ground.

As if from a great distance Lola heard the screech of tyres as the car accelerated away. Close to, the woman groaned. Without opening her eyes, Lola stretched out an arm, encountered the woman’s foot and clumsily patted it.

‘S’OK, you’re all right, just hang on and the police’ll be here.’ God, she felt so sick. The pain at the back of her head was intense. But the woman next to her in the road was now sobbing hysterically, in need of reassurance and comfort.

‘Th-they tricked m-me, I th-thought someone was hurt .. . then when I stopped the c-c-car they d-dragged me out ..’

‘Hey, hey, don’t be upset.’ Lola stroked the woman’s leg, the only part of her she could reach. ‘I can hear sirens, someone’s coming, you’re OK now.’

‘I’m not OK, there’s b-blood everywhere, he punched me in the face and b-broke my n-nose.’

‘Sshh, don’t cry.’ Squeezing the woman’s calf and shivering with cold, Lola forced down a rising swell of nausea. ‘Here’s the ambulance. I hope they don’t run over my shoes ...’

The next twenty minutes were a confusing blur. Lola was dimly aware that she was having trouble answering the questions put to her by the paramedics and the police. She hoped they didn’t think she was paralytic with drink. Blue flashing lights gave the otherwise pitch-black street the look of an eerie disco but no one was dancing. Requested to hold out an outstretched arm then touch her nose with her forefinger, Lola missed and almost took her eye out. Asked to name the Prime Minister she struggled to put a name to the face floating around in her mind.

‘Hang on, don’t tell me, I know it ... I know it ... is it Peter Stringfellow?’

The other woman had already been whisked off to hospital in the first ambulance. When a second arrived in the narrow, suddenly busy street and a stretcher was brought out, Lola waved her hands and protested, ‘No, no, I can’t go to the party, I’ve got work tomorrow.’

‘You need to be checked over, love. You were knocked out.’

‘I know I’m a knockout.’ Lola beamed up at the curiously attractive paramedic ... OK, so he was in his fifties and resembled a pig but he had lovely eyes. Will you dance with me?’

‘Course I will, love. Just as soon as you’re better.’ He grinned down at her.

‘You’re gorgeous.’ How on earth had she never found big double chins and enormous stomachs attractive before? ‘I know, I know. Johnny Depp, that’s me.’

‘No you’re not, you’re way better than him.’ As she was expertly lifted onto the stretcher Lola gazed adoringly up atthe paramedic and wondered why he was swaying back and forth. ‘You look like Hagrid.’

’Mum, I’m fine. They’ve X-rayed my skull and checked me out all over. It was just a bash on the head.’ Gingerly Lola leaned forward in bed to show her mother the egg-sized bump. ‘They’re discharging me later. They only kept me in overnight because I was knocked out for a few seconds and when I came round I was a bit muddled.’

‘So I’ve just been hearing in the nurses’ office,’ said Blythe. ‘Apparently you were hilarious, propositioning one of the poor ambulance men. I can’t believe you did something so ridiculous.’

‘It wasn’t my fault! I was concussed!’

‘I don’t mean that. I’m talking about you launching yourself into a dangerous situation. You could have been killed.’

This had occurred to Lola too; at the time she’d simply acted on impulse although in retrospect it had been a bit of a reckless thing to do. ‘But I wasn’t. And I’m OK.’ Apart from the blistering headache. ‘Could you give work a ring and tell them I should be in tomorrow?’

‘I most certainly will not. I’ll tell them you might be in next week, depending on how you feel.’

‘Mum, how are they going to feel if you tell them that? It’s December! Everyone’s rushed off their feet!’

‘And you were knocked unconscious,’ Blythe retorted. ‘Anything could have happened. My God, for once in your life will you listen to me?’

A man who’d been walking up the ward stopped and said genially, ‘It always pays to do as your mother tells you.’ He was in his sixties, well-spoken and smartly dressed in a suit. Was this her consultant? Lola sat up a bit straighter in bed and smiled expectantly, all ready to convince him that she was well enough to be allowed home. After last night’s debacle with the paramedic she’d better put on a good show

‘Miss Malone?’

‘That’s me.’ Eagerly Lola nodded. To prove her brain was in good working order, he’d probably ask her the kind of questions doctors used on old people when they wanted to find out if they were on the ball. OK, what was the capital of Australia? What was thirty-three times seven?

Yeesh, don’t let him ask her to name the Shadow Chancellor of the Exchequer.

‘Hello.’ He moved towards her, smiling and extending his hand.

‘Hi!’ Quick, was it Melbourne? Victoria? Lola’s brain was racing. People always thought it was Sydney but she knew it definitely wasn’t. Might he give her half a point for that, at least?

The man shook her hand warmly. ‘It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Philip Nicholson.’

He even smelled delicious. Watching him turn to shake her mother’s hand, Lola breathed in his expensive aftershave. Goodness, what charming manners, this was like being in a private hospital and getting — ooh, was it Perth?

‘I just had to come and see you,’ he went on.

‘Well, I suppose you couldn’t avoid it. All part of the job description!’ Lola beamed at him, aware that he was looking at her head. Touching the tender area she said, ‘Bit of a bump, that’s all. I’m absolutely fine. Except, can I just quickly tell you that I’m rubbish at capital cities?’

Philip Nicholson hesitated and glanced over at Blythe, who shrugged and looked baffled.

‘In case that’s what you were going to ask me,’ Lola hurriedly explained. ‘I mean, some are all right, like Paris and Amsterdam and Madrid, they’re easy, and I do happen to know that the capital of Azerbaijan is Baku, but in general I have to say that capitals aren’t my strong point’To be on the safe side she added, ‘Neither’s politics.’

Carefully Dr Nicholson said, ‘That’s not a problem. I won’t ask any questions about either subject.’

‘Phew, what a relief.’ Lola relaxed back against her piled-up pillows. ‘I’d hate to be kept in just because I couldn’t name the leader of the Liberal Democrats.’

Dr Nicholson cleared his throat and said, ‘I’m sure that wouldn’t happen.’

‘Well, hopefully not, but sometimes you do know the answer and you just can’t think of it.

Someone fires a question at you, you know it’s important to get it right and — boom! — your mind goes blank!’

‘Of course it does.’ He nodded understandingly.

‘Like, let’s try it with you.’ Lola waggled an index finger at him. ‘Capital of Australia.’

Dr Nicholson hesitated. Blythe, never able to resist a quiz question, let out a squeak of excitement and raised her arm. Lola swung the pointing finger round and barked in Paxmanesque fashion, ‘Yes, Mum?’

‘Sydney!’

‘No it isn’t.’ Lola returned her attention to Dr Nicholson. ‘Your turn.’

He was looking somewhat taken aback. Opening his mouth to reply, he

‘Brisbane!’

‘Sshh, Mum. It isn’t your go.’

‘Um...’

‘Melbourne!’ squealed Blythe.

‘Mum, control yourself. It’s Dr Nicholson’s turn.’

At this, his shoulders relaxed and his mouth began to twitch. ‘It’s Canberra. And I’ve just worked out what’s going on. I’m not Dr Nicholson, by the way.’

Bemused, Lola said, ‘No?’

He smiled. ‘Entirely my fault. I knew the police had told you our name last night and I kind of assumed you’d remember. But you were concussed. I’m sorry, let’s start again. My name’s Philip Nicholson and I’m here to thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming to my wife’s rescue.You did an incredibly brave thing and I can’t begin to tell you how grateful we are.’ His voice thickened with emotion. ‘Those thugs could have killed her if you hadn’t gone to help.’

Lola clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘I thought you were my consultant, coming to check whether I was compos mentis: Philip Nicholson looked amused. ‘I realise that now.’

‘Phew! Just as well I didn’t think you were here to examine my chest.’ God, imagine if she’d whipped her top off, that would’ve given him a bit of a start.

‘Quite.’

‘How’s your wife this morning?’ said Lola.

‘Well, still shocked. Battered and bruised. Two broken fingers.’ There was a hard edge to his voice now. ‘Where they tried to wrench her rings off!

Did they get them?’

‘No. Which is also thanks to you. She’s pretty shaken up, and her face is swollen. But physically it could have been a lot worse.’ Philip Nicholson shook his head and slowly exhaled. ‘My wife and I owe you so much.’

Lola squirmed, embarrassed. Anyone would have done the same: ‘No they wouldn’t,’ Blythe retorted. ‘Most people would have had more sense.’

Their visitor nodded. ‘I’m inclined to agree. Though very grateful, of course, that your daughter wasn’t—’

‘Hello, hello! Morning, all!’ A little man wearing a maroon corduroy jacket over a green hand-knitted sweater came bouncing up to them. Pumping Lola’s hand and simultaneously pulling closed the curtains around the bed, he said, ‘I’m Dr Palmer, your consultant. Let’s just give you a quick once-over, shall we? If you two could leave us alone for ten minutes that’d be marvellous.

I say, that’s a fair-sized bump on your head. How are you feeling after your little adventure last night?’

‘Great: Lola watched as with mesmerising speed he began testing her reflexes, her eyes, her coordination. ‘Are you going to be asking me questions?’

‘Absolutely’

She couldn’t help feeling a bit smug. ‘The capital of Australia is Canberra.’

‘Good grief, is it really? Always thought it was Sydney. Never been much good at capital cities, I’m afraid. When I’m checking out my patients I prefer to ask them sums. What’s twenty-seven times sixty-three?’

‘Uh ... um ...’ Lola began to panic; seven threes were twenty-one, carry two and—

‘Only kidding.’ Mr Palmer’s eyes twinkled as he snatched up her notes. ‘What day is it today?’

‘Wednesday the fourth of December.’ Phew, that was more like it, that was the kind of question she could answer.

‘Cheers.’ He wrote the date on a fresh page then added o/e NAD.

‘What does NAD mean?’ Lola peered at it. ‘Please don’t say -Neurotic and Demented.’

The consultant chuckled. ‘On examination, no abnormality detected.’

‘My mother might not agree with you there. So does that mean I can go home?’

‘I think we can let you go.’

Beaming, Lola wiggled her feet. ‘Yay.’

’What a charming man.’ Blythe, evidently quite bowled over by Philip Nicholson, found Lola’s glittery shoes in the bottom of her bedside locker. ‘And so grateful. His wife’s on Ward Thirteen, up on the next floor. Poor thing, from the sound of it her face is a terrible mess. I think they’re going to be sending you flowers, by the way. He asked for your address.’

‘If they’re that grateful they might send me chocolates too. Did you phone work?’

‘I did. Told them you wouldn’t be in until next week.’

‘Who did you speak to? What did they say?’

‘It was Cheryl.’ Blythe held out the cropped velvet jacket as if Lola were six years old. ‘And it was quite hard to hear what she was saying. Everyone was cheering so loudly when they heard you were going to be away, I could hardly make out a word.’

‘Cheek. Everyone loves me at work. Honestly,’ said Lola, ‘if Philip Nicholson wants to get me something really useful, a new mother wouldn’t go amiss.’

Chapter 6

’This is fantastic. I feel like the Queen.’ Being at home and having a fuss made of her was a huge novelty and Lola was relishing every minute. Once you’d been officially signed off work by the doctor, well, you may as well lie back and make the most of it. Friends called in, bringing chocolate croissants and gossip from the outside world, a couple of police officers had dropped by to tell her that the muggers hadn’t been caught, and Blythe had come over yesterday and spring-cleaned – well, winter-cleaned – the flat.

Best of all, she had Gabe at her beck and call.

‘You’re a fraud.’ He brought in the cheese and mushroom toasted sandwich he’d just made.

‘You don’t have to be in bed.’

‘I know’ Lola happily patted her ultra-squishy goosedown duvet, all puffed up around her like a cloud, and wriggled into a more comfortable sitting position. ‘But I get so much more sympathy this way. It’s like being back at school and staying home with tonsillitis. All cosy, watching daytime TV, everyone being extra-nice to you and knowing you’re missing double physics.

Ooh,’ she bit into the toasted sandwich and caught a string of melted cheese before it attached itself to her chin.

‘Mmmmpphh, this is heaven. Oh Gabe, don’t go to Australia. Stay here and make toasted sandwiches for me forever.’

Gabe found her toes and tweaked them. ‘What did your last slave die of?’

‘Nothing. I’ve never had a slave before, but now I definitely know I want one.’ At that moment the doorbell rang downstairs. ‘Like when the doorbell rings,’ said Lola. ‘And you just ask someone else to run down and see who it is.’

‘That’ll be me, then.’

‘Sorry. I’d do it myself if I could.’ Lola shrugged regretfully. ‘But I’m an invalid.’

He was back a couple of minutes later with a great armful of white roses tied with straw and swathed in cellophane. ‘Flowers for the lady. From a very upmarket florist. Here’s the card.’

Gabe tossed a peacock-blue envelope over to Lola. ‘Unless you want me to read it for you because you’re too ill.’

‘I’ll manage.’ Since she didn’t have any friends who would use such a glitzy company, Lola had already guessed the identity of the sender. And she wasn’t wrong. ‘They’re from Philip Nicholson. He hopes I’m feeling better. His wife was discharged from hospital yesterday.’ She paused, reading on. ‘He’s inviting me to a party at their house so I can meet her and they can thank me properly.’

‘You can’t go to a party. You’re an invalid.’

‘It’s not until next Friday; that’s seven days away. I’ll be fine by then. It’s nice of them to invite me.’ Lola hesitated, pulled a face. ‘But won’t it be a bit embarrassing?’

‘Spoken by the girl who once superglued her finger to her forehead and had to wait in casualty for six hours before the nurse could unglue it.’

OK, that had been more embarrassing.

‘I’m still not sure. They live in Barnes.’ Lola checked the address. ‘Sounds posh.’

‘You’d hurt their feelings if you didn’t turn up.’

This was true.

‘And they must want me to go.’ She showed Gabe the handwritten letter. ‘He’s even organised a car to come here and pick me up on the night. Crikey, now I really feel like the Queen.’ Having finished her toasted sandwich, a thought struck Lola. ‘Is there any of that apricot cheesecake left?’

‘No, you ate it.’

‘Oh. Well, could we buy some more?’

Gabe rolled his eyes. ‘You really should get back to work. You’re turning into Marie Antoinette.’

Five days later Lola was back. She adored her job and she loved her customers — dealing with the public was her forte — but sometimes they were capable of testing her patience to the limit.

Especially in the run-up to Christmas, when vast hordes of people who didn’t venture into bookshops at any other time of year came pouring through the doors with a great Need to Buy coupled with Absolutely No Idea What.

It could be an enjoyable challenge. It could also be the road to madness. Lying in bed watching lovely Fern and Phil and dunking marshmallows in hot chocolate seemed like a distant dream.

‘No, no, it’s none of them.’ The woman with the plastic rain hat protecting her hair — why? It wasn’t raining today — rejected the array of books Lola had shown her.

‘OK, well, that’s everything we have in stock about insects. If you like, I can look on the computer and—’

‘It’s nothing like any of these,’ the woman retorted. ‘There’s no pictures in the one I’m after.’

A book about insects containing no illustrations of insects. Hmm, that would probably explain why they didn’t stock it. ‘Would you recognise the cover if you saw it?’

‘No.’

Lola tried for the third time. ‘And you really can’t remember who wrote it?’

The woman frowned. ‘No. I thought you’d know that.’

She was clearly disappointed, feeling badly let down by the incompetence of Kingsley’s staff.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Lola, ‘I can’t think how else to do this. I’m afraid we’re not going to be able to—’

‘Oink, oink!’

Okaaaay. ‘Excuse me?’

The woman said triumphantly, ‘There’s a pig in it!’

A pig. Right. A pig in a book about insects. Zrrrrr, went Lola’s brain, assimilating this new and possibly deal-clinching clue. Zzzzrrrrrrrr .. .

‘Is it Lord of the Flies?’

‘Yes! That’s the one!’

Lola exchanged a glance with an older male customer currently leafing through a book on the subject of kayaking down the Nile. For a split second she saw the twinkle of suppressed laughter in his eyes and almost lost it herself.

But no. She was a professional. To the woman in the rain hat Lola said cheerfully, ‘It’s a novel by William Golding. Let me show you where to find it,’ and led her off to the fiction section.

When she returned, Kayak Man was waiting to speak to her. ‘Hi. Well done with your last customer, by the way.’

‘All in a day’s work. You nearly made me laugh.’

‘Sorry.’ He put down the kayak book. ‘Anyway, I’m hoping you can help me now.’

Lola smiled; he had a lean, intelligent face. ‘Fire away. I like a challenge.’

‘Jane Austen. My wife’s read all her books. I was wondering, has she written any new ones this year?’

Lola waited for his eyes to twinkle. They didn’t. Her heart sank.

‘I’m sorry, Jane Austen’s dead.’

‘She is? Oh, that’s a shame, my wife will be sorry to hear that. We must have missed her obituary in the Telegraph. What did she die of, do you know?’

‘Um ...’ What had Jane Austen died of? Multiple injuries following a parachuting accident, perhaps? Had she crashed her jet ski? Or how about

‘Lola, there’s someone here wanting to speak to you.’ It was Cheryl, sounding apologetic. ‘A crew from a TV station are interviewing store managers about Christmas shopping and they wondered if you could spare them five minutes. If you’re too busy, Tim says he’d be happy to do it.’

‘I bet he would.’ Tim was besotted with the idea of being on TV; it was the reason he went along to all the film premieres in Leicester Square, why he’d dressed up as a chicken to audition for the X Factor (the judges had told him to cluck off) and what had propelled him to stand up while he’d been in the audience on Trisha to announce that as a baby he’d been found abandoned in a cardboard box at Victoria station and he was desperate to find his mother. His mum, who’d been ironing a pile of his shirts when the TV programme aired, had given Tim a good clump round the ear when he’d arrived home that afternoon.

‘It’s OK, I’ll do it myself.’ When you were having a good hair day it was a shame to waste it.

‘Cheryl, can you help this gentleman? His wife’s read everything by Jane Austen so I’m wondering if she might enjoy one of the sequels by another author.’

Having excused herself, Lola made her way over to the young male reporter waiting at the tills with a cameraman and his assistant. ‘Hi, I’m Lola Malone. Where would you like to do this?’

The reporter said, ‘Oh. We’re meant to be doing the interview with the manager.’

‘I’m the manager.’

‘God, are you really?’ The male reporter — who looked exactly like a male reporter — eyed Lola’s sleek black top, fuchsia pink skirt and long legs in opaque black tights. ‘You don’t look like the manager of a bookshop.’

‘Sorry. Were you expecting someone more frumpy?’ He looked abashed. ‘Well, yes, I suppose I was.’

It was a preconception that drove Lola mad and made her want to rattle people’s teeth. ‘I could run out and buy a grey cardigan if you like.’

‘You’re joking, no, you look fantastic.’ He spread his hands in admiration. ‘Crikey, I just didn’t think ..’

‘You should get out more.’ Lola winked, because it was also a preconception she enjoyed shattering. ‘Try visiting a few more bookshops. You might be surprised — nowadays, some of us don’t even wear tweed.’

The piece aired on the local evening news two days later. It lasted less than ninety seconds and the reporter had asked some pretty inane questions but Lola, watching herself on TV as she set about her hair with curling tongs, felt she’d acquitted herself well enough. It wasn’t easy to be witty and scintillating whilst responding to, ‘And here we are, in Kingsley’s on Regent Street, with less than a fortnight to go before Christmas! So, just how busy has it been here in this store?’

The urge to stretch her arms wide like a fisherman and say, ‘This busy,’ had been huge.

‘Well?’ Still wielding the tongs, Lola turned to look at Gabe when the piece ended.

‘Yes, that was definitely you.’

Was I OK?’

Gabe was busy unwrapping a Twix bar. ‘You answered his questions, you didn’t burp or swear, or take a swig from a bottle of vodka. That has to be good news.’

‘But did I look nice?’

‘You looked fine and you know it. What time’s this car corning?’

‘Seven thirty. Should I wear my red dress or the blue one?’ Curling completed, Lola bent over and gave her head a vigorous upside-down shake. ‘I feel quite jittery. I’m not going to know anyone else there. What if it’s all really embarrassing and I want to escape but they won’t let me leave?’

‘OK, you’ll get there around eight. Leave your phone on and I’ll ring you at nine,’ said Gabe. ‘If you’re desperate to get away, tell them I’m your best friend and I’ve gone into labour.’

‘My hero. The things you do for me. How am I going to manage without you when you’re gone?’ Vertical once more, Lola hugged him then made a lightning lunge for the Twix in his hand. She was fast, but not fast enough.

‘I’m sure you’ll cope.’ Gabe broke off an inch and gave it to her. ‘You’ll soon find some other poor guy’s Twix bars to pinch.’

By seven fifteen Lola was ready to go — OK, it was uncool to be punctual but she simply couldn’t help herself — and peering out of the window.

‘Wouldn’t it be great if they sent a stretch limo?’

Gabe looked horrified. ‘That would be so naff.’

‘Why would it? I love them!’ OK, she was naff and uncool.

‘Don’t get your hopes up. From the sound of him, this guy has better taste than you. In fact,’

Gabe went on as a throaty roar filled the street outside, ‘that could be your lift now.’

It was Lola’s turn to be appalled. Flinging the window open as the motorbike rumbled to a halt outside, she watched as the helmeted rider dismounted. Surely not. If someone said they were sending a car they wouldn’t economise at the last minute and send a motorbike instead. Would they? Oh God, her hair would be wrecked .. .

‘Hi there, Lola.’ Phew, panic over, it was only Marcus.

‘Hi there, neighbour-to-be! Come on up,’ said Lola. ‘Gabe’s in my flat at the moment.’

Upstairs in Lola’s living room, clutching his motorcycle helmet and looking sheepish, Marcus said, ‘All right, mate? The thing is, I’ve got some good news and some bad news.’

‘Go on then,’ prompted Gabe.

‘Well, me and Carol are back together, she’s giving me one last chance. And I’m taking it.

Turning over a new leaf. Cool, right? So that’s the good news.’ An embarrassed grin spread across Marcus’s shiny face. ‘But that means I won’t be moving in here after all, mate. Sorry about that.’

Gabe shrugged, having already pretty much guessed what Marcus had come here to say. ‘Well, I suppose I can’t blame you. Bit short notice, seeing as I’m off next week.’

‘I know. Sorry, mate.’

‘I’ll have to register with a lettings agency now’

‘I might know someone who could move in.’ Eager to help, Marcus said, ‘There’s a guy at my motorcycling club whose parents are keen to get rid of him. He could be interested.’

Lola pictured a spotty gangly teenager inviting hundreds of his spotty gangly mates round for parties. ‘How old is he?’

‘Terry? Early fifties. Don’t look like that,’ Marcus caught the face Lola was pulling at Gabe.

‘Terry’s a good bloke. And he works in an abattoir,’ he went on encouragingly, ‘so you’d never go short of pork chops.’

The car, a gleaming black Mercedes, arrived at seven thirty on the dot. It wasn’t a stretch limo, but it was without a doubt the cleanest, most valeted car Lola had ever been in, and knowing that you wouldn’t have to pay a huge taxi fare at the end made it an even more pleasurable journey.

She sat back as the car purred along, feeling like royalty and quite tempted to wave graciously at the poor people trudging along the pavements on the other side of the tinted glass.

The house, when they reached it, was a huge double-fronted Victorian affair in Barnes, as impressive as Lola had imagined. There were plenty of cars in the driveway and discreet twinkling white Christmas lights studding the bay trees in square stone tubs that flanked the super-shiny dark blue front door. Lola was hoping to be sophisticated enough, one day, to confine herself to discreet white Christmas lights; as it was, she was more of a gaudy, every-colour-you-can-think-of girl and all of it as über-bling as humanly possible.

She tried to tip Ken, the driver, but he wouldn’t accept her money. Which felt even weirder than not having to pay the fare.

Even the brass doorbell was classy. Lola clutched her Accessorize sequinned handbag to her side

— as if anyone was likely to steal it here — and took a couple of deep breaths. It wasn’t like her to be on edge. How bizarre that attempting to beat up a couple of muggers hadn’t been nerve-wracking, yet this was.

Then the door opened and there was Mr Nicholson with his lovely welcoming smile, and she relaxed.

‘Lola, you’re here! How wonderful to see you again. I’m so glad you were able to come along tonight.’ He gave her a kiss on each cheek. ‘And you look terrific.’

Compared with the last time he’d seen her, she supposed she must. Not having uncombed, blood-soaked hair was always a bonus.

‘It’s good to see you too, Mr Nicholson.’

‘Please call me Philip. Now, my wife doesn’t know I’ve invited you. You’re our surprise guest of honour.’ His grey eyes sparkled as he led her across the wood-panelled hall to a door at the far end. ‘I can’t wait to see her reaction when she realises who you are.’

Philip Nicholson pushed open the door and drew Lola into a huge glittering drawing room full of people, all chattering away and smartly dressed. A thirty-something blonde in aquamarine touched his arm and raised her eyebrows questioningly; when he nodded, she grinned at Lola and whispered, ‘Ooh, I’m so excited, this is going to be great!’

‘My stepdaughter,’ Philip murmured by way of explanation. Nodding again, this time in the direction of the fireplace, he added, ‘That’s my wife over there, in the orange frock.’

Orange, bless him. Only a man could call it that.The woman, standing with her back to them and talking to another couple, was slim and elegant in a devoré velvet dress in delectable shades of russet, bronze and apricot. Her hair was fashioned in a glamorous chignon and she was wearing pearls around her neck that even from this distance you could tell were real.

Then Philip said, ‘Darling .. and she swivelled round to look at him. In an instant Lola was seventeen again.

Adele Tennant’s gaze in turn fastened on Lola and she took a sharp audible intake of breath.

‘My God, what’s going on here?’ Her voice icy with disbelief, she turned pointedly back to Philip Nicholson. Did she just turn up on the doorstep? Are you mad, letting her into the house?’

Poor Philip, his shock was palpable. Lola, who was pretty stunned too, couldn’t work out who she felt more sorry for, him or herself.

‘How did you find out where I live?’ Adele’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘How did you track me down? My God, you have a nerve. This is a private party—’

‘Adele, stop it,’ Philip intervened at last, raising his hands in horrified protest. ‘This was meant to be a surprise. This is Lola Malone, she—’

‘I know it’s Lola Malone! I’m not senile, Philip! And if she’s come here chasing after my son ...

well, I can tell you, she’s got another think coming.’

Yeek, Dougie! As if she’d just been zapped with an electric cattle prod, Lola spun round; was he here in this room? No, no sign of him unless he’d gone bald or had a sex change.

‘I’m so sorry.’ Philip Nicholson shook his head at Lola by way of apology. ‘This is all most unfortunate. Adele, will you stop interrupting and listen? I don’t know what’s gone on in the past but I invited Lola here tonight because she’s the one who came to the rescue when you were mugged.’ His voice breaking with emotion he said, ‘She saved your life.’

And what’s more, thought Lola, she’s starting to wish she hadn’t bothered.

OK, mustn’t say that. At least Philip’s pronouncement had succeeded in shutting Adele up; while her brain was busy assimilating this unwelcome information her mouth had snapped shut like a bronze-lipglossed trap.

‘I thought you’d like the opportunity to thank her in person,’ Philip went on, and all of a sudden he sounded like a headmaster saddened by the disruptive behaviour of a stroppy teenager.

People were starting to notice now. The couple Adele had been talking to were avidly observing proceedings. The blonde who was Philip’s stepdaughter — crikey, that meant she was Dougie’s older sister — came over and said, puzzled, ‘Mum? Is everything all right?’

‘Fine.’ Recovering herself, Adele managed the most frozen of smiles and looked directly at Lola.

‘So it was you. Well .. . what can I say? Thank you.’

‘No problem.’ That didn’t sound quite right but what else could she say? My pleasure?

‘It was such a brave thing you did,’ exclaimed Dougie’s sister. What was her name? Sally, that was it. ‘I can’t bear to think what might have happened to Mum if you hadn’t dived in like that.

You were amazing!’

Lola managed to maintain a suitably modest smile, while her memory busily rewound to that eventful night ten days ago. Euurrgh, she had stroked Adele’s ankle, she had squeezed Adele Tennant’s thigh .. .

Except she wasn’t Adele Tennant any more. She was Adele Nicholson.

‘So you remarried,’ said Lola, longing to ask about Doug and feeling her stomach clench just at the thought of him.

‘Four years ago.’ Adele was being forced to be polite now, in a through-gritted-teeth, I-really-wish-you-weren’t-here kind of way.

‘Congratulations.’ Lola wondered what Philip, who was lovely, had done to deserve Cruella de Vil as a wife. Presumably Adele did have redeeming qualities; she just hadn’t encountered them yet.

‘Thank you. Well, it’s ... nice to see you again. Can we offer you a drink? Or,’ Adele said hopefully, ‘do you have to rush off?’

Rushing off suddenly seemed a highly desirable thing to do. Excellent idea. Since every minute here was clearly set to be an excruciating ordeal, Lola looked at her watch and said, ‘Actually, there is somewhere else I need to—’

‘Here he is!’ cried Sally, her face lighting up as she waved across the room to attract someone’s attention. ‘Yoohoo, we’re over here! And what sort of time do you call this anyway? You’re late.’

Lola didn’t need to turn around. She knew who it was. Some inner certainty told her that Dougie had entered the drawing room; she could feel his presence behind her. All of a sudden every molecule in her body was on high alert and she was no longer breathing.

Dougie. Doug. Whom she’d thought she’d never see again. ‘Sorry, I was held up at a meeting.

Some of us have a proper job. Hi, everyone, how’s it going? What have I missed?’

Lola was zinging all over; now she’d completely forgotten how to breathe. Except how embarrassing if she keeled over in a dead faint in front of everyone; when a woman had done that in the shop last summer she’d lost control of her bladder.

Imagine coming round, surrounded by Dougie and his family, and discovering you were lying in a puddle of wee.

But this was the kind of situation you needed time to prepare yourself for, time she hadn’t been allowed, and now she was doing her usual thing of being inappropriately flippant.Whereas in reality she was filled with a mixture of giddy excitement — maybe twenty per cent — and eighty per cent fear and trepidation. Because as far as Dougie was concerned, she’d left him without a word, dumped him and run off abroad without a proper explanation. Had ten years been long enough for him to forgive her for that?

‘Well.’ Winking at Lola, Sally spoke with relish. ‘Philip invited along a surprise guest . .

Who turned out to be one very surprised guest. Lola dug her nails into her palms — welcome the pain, welcome the pain and don’t pass out — and turned round to look at him.

‘Hello, Dougie.’

For a split second their eyes locked and it was as if the last decade had never happened. Doug looked the same but taller, broader, better. He’d always had the looks, the ability to stop girls dead in their tracks, and now here he was, having that exact same effect, doing it to her all over again.

Except it would be nice if he could be smiling, looking a bit less stony faced than this.

OK, maybe not very likely, but nice all the same. Even if I just to be polite.

’Lola.’ Doug’s shoulders stiffened as if she were a tax inspector.

Taking care to keep his voice neutral he said, ‘What brings you 1 here?’

Oh God, this was awful, all the old tumultuous feelings were flooding back. She’d never been able to forget Dougie; he’d been her first love.

What’s more, seeing as it had never really happened again since, her One and Only.

‘I did: said Philip. ‘Sorry, I hope this isn’t awkward, but I had no idea you two knew each other.

Anyway, surely that’s J irrelevant now’ He cast a warning glance at Adele with her mouth like a prune and rested a hand reassuringly on Lola’s shoulder. ‘Under the circumstances I’m sure we can put the past behind us. Doug, this is the young lady who came to your mother’s rescue when she was attacked.’

Dougie’s expression altered. ‘God, really? That was you? We didn’t know That’s incredible.’

‘The police told me her name was Lauren something or other,’ Adele said prunily and with a hint of accusation, as if Lola had done it on purpose.

‘It is, but I’ve been called Lola since I was a baby. It was a nickname that just stuck.’

‘Well, thanks for doing what you did.’ There was a warmth in Dougie’s eyes now, breaking through the initial wariness. ‘From what I hear, you were pretty fantastic.’

Oh, I was. Shaking inwardly, Lola did her best to look fantastic but at the same time incredibly self-effacing. Dougie was gorgeous and now fate had brought them back together. The break-up had happened a decade ago; they’d practically been children then. Surely Doug would forgive her for chucking him. ‘Well, when someone needs help you just go for it, you don’t stop to wonder what—’

‘Ooh, I’ve got it now!’ Sally let out a mini-squeal of recognition and pointed excitedly at Lola.

‘You’re the one I never got to meet! You were going out with my little brother when I was living in Dublin with Tim the Tosser! Then you did a bunk and broke his heart!’

Oh don’t say that, please don’t say that. I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to do it, Lola longed to blurt out. It broke my heart too! Doug said drily, ‘Thanks, Sal.’

‘Oh, come on, it was years and years ago, all in the past now. And she did break your heart.’

Sally gave him a jab in the ribs, visibly relishing his discomfort. ‘You were a complete pain, don’t you remember? All because you couldn’t believe your girlfriend had given you the elbow and buggered off abroad.’ She nudged Lola and added cheerfully, Did him the world of good, if you ask me.’

‘That’s funny,’ said Doug, ‘because I don’t remember anyone asking you.’

‘That’s enough.’ Adele intervened before the bickering could start. ‘Doug, the Mastersons have to leave very soon but they really want to see you before they go.’

‘I’ll do that now As soon as I’ve got myself a drink.’ Evidently glad of the reprieve, Doug glanced at Lola and Sally, and said, ‘Excuse me. I’ll see you later.’

They watched Doug cross the room with Adele, while Philip went in search of a waiter.

‘That’s one rattled brother,’ Sally observed gleefully. ‘God, I love it when that happens!’

Guilt and pain swirled up through Lola’s stomach. ‘Did I really break his heart?’

‘Too right you did! Talk about miserable! Ooh, is that yours?’ Lola’s phone was chirruping in her bag. She took it out and Gabe’s name flashed up at her.

‘Feel free.’ Sally made encouraging answer-it gestures.

‘Thanks. Sorry, I’ll just take it outside for a minute.’ Longing to confide in Gabe, Lola excused herself and escaped the party. She crossed the hall, quietly let herself out of the house – better safe than sorry – and answered the phone.

‘I know, I’m early,’ said Gabe. ‘Couldn’t wait. So how’s it going? Are they showering you with diamonds?’

She grimaced in the darkness. ‘Diamonds, wouldn’t that be nice. More like bullets.’

‘What? Why?’

‘You won’t believe what’s happening here.’ Lola kept walking to warm herself up, around the side of the house and along a narrow stone path leading beneath a hand-carved wooden pergola into a rose garden. ‘The woman who was mugged only turns out to be the mother of an old boyfriend of mine. And she loathed me! If I’d known it was her I’d have run in the other direction. You should have seen her face tonight when she found out I was the one who’d gone to help her!’

‘So you’re leaving? Do I feel a contraction coming on?’

‘Hang on, don’t start boiling kettles just yet. I was going to leave,’ said Lola. ‘God, it was awful, I couldn’t wait to get out of here. And it went without saying that the Wicked Witch couldn’t wait to be shot of me.’ She paused, reliving the moment her stomach had done a Red Arrows swoop-and-dive. ‘But then it happened. He turned up. Oh Gabe, I can’t describe how it felt. I thought I’d never see Dougie again, but now I have. And he’s more gorgeous than ever. It’s like a miracle, I can’t believe he’s here. So I’m not going to leave now, even though his hateful mother wishes I would. I’ve got to talk to Doug properly, he’s only just arrived and it’s been a bit awkward so far. We’re all pretty stunned at the moment. But ... oh God, it’s just so amazing seeing him again, I haven’t been this excited since—’

‘Hey, hey, calm down, do you not think you’re getting a bit carried away? If this guy dumped you before, what makes you think he’s going to be thrilled to see you again?’ As a heterosexual man who had dumped hundreds of weeping females in his time, Gabe said warningly, ‘What makes you think he’ll even want to talk to you?’

‘Gabe, you don’t understand. He isn’t an ex-boyfriend. He’s the ex-boyfriend. Plus, he didn’t dump me. I was the one who left him.’ Lola swallowed. ‘According to his sister I broke his heart.’

‘And now you’ve taken one look at him and decided you want him back. Trust me,’ said Gabe,

‘that’s a recipe for disaster. You can never go back. Whatever annoyed you about this guy before will only annoy you again.’

‘For heaven’s sake, will you stop lecturing me? This is my first love we’re talking about here!

We were crazy about each other. Dougie was about to start at Edinburgh University,’ Lola paced up and down the flagstoned path in an attempt to keep warm, ‘and we planned to visit each other every weekend, but if that wasn’t enough I was going to move up there to be with him. You have no idea how happy we were together.’

She heard Gabe snort with derision. ‘So happy that you finished with him. That makes sense.’

‘But that’s just it, I didn’t want to finish with him. His bloody mother made me do it!’ Lola squeezed her eyes shut as the long-ago hideous encounter in Adele Tennant’s car swam back into her brain; the smell of expensive leather upholstery had haunted her ever since. ‘She hated me, thought I was a bad influence on her precious golden boy ... she was terrified I’d put him off his studies or, even worse, persuade him to jack in university altogether.’

‘So she asked you to stop seeing her son. Erm,’ said Gabe, ‘did it ever occur to you to say no?’

‘She didn’t ask me. She made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.’ Lola hated even thinking about that bit; had spent years doing her best to banish it from her mind.

‘You’re not serious!’ At last she had Gabe’s full attention. ‘You mean, like swimming with the fishes? She actually threatened you with a concrete overcoat and a trip to the bottom of the Thames?’

‘Not that kind. She offered me money. I was seventeen years old.’ There was a bitter taste in Lola’s mouth now; no matter how compelling the reason, the inescapable fact remained that she had betrayed her boyfriend. ‘And she offered me ten thousand pounds if I’d stop seeing Dougie.’

‘Which you took?’

‘Which I took.’ The bitter taste was guilt; it wasn’t an action she was proud of, hence never having mentioned it to Gabe before.

He let out an incredulous bark of laughter. ‘You let her buy you off?’

Lola shivered as a blast of icy air wrapped itself around her stomach. ‘I didn’t want to, but I had to:

‘Bloody hell! len grand. What did you spend it on?’

Lola hesitated, but it was no good; she couldn’t tell him. ‘ icked with remorse, Alex had begged her never to reveal their secret to another living soul and it was a promise she had to keep. Alex might be gone now but her mother must never find out what had happened. Which meant she must never tell anyone. Choking up at the memory, she said, ‘I just needed it. You don’t understand what a—’

Crackkk.

She froze at the sound of a dry twig snapping underfoot behind her. Swinging round with her heart in her throat, Lola saw the tall figure just visible in the darkness at the entrance to the rose garden.

Not just any old tall figure either. That silhouette was instantly recognisable.

‘Ten thousand pounds,’ said a quiet voice every bit as incredulous as Gabe’s.

Oh God.

‘I don’t understand what?’ complained Gabe, for whom patience wasn’t a strong point. ‘Don’t stop there! What is there to not understand?’

‘I’ll call you back.’ Her hand suddenly trembling with more than cold, Lola ended the call and dropped the phone back into her bag.

Chapter 9

’Ten thousand pounds,’ Doug repeated, shaking his head.

Lola swallowed. ‘Your mum was desperate to split us up.’

‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this.’ He moved towards her. ‘You wrote me a letter and left the country’

‘Because that’s what she wanted me to do. Don’t you see? All that stuff I said in the letter wasn’t true!’ Lola knew she had to make him understand. ‘I still loved you! It broke my heart too, I was miserable for months.’

‘Oh, don’t give me that.’ Doug’s tone hardened. ‘I’ve heard some lines in my time, but—’

Dougie, I’m not lying! And I’m sorry, so sorry I hurt you. But it was your mother’s idea — she was the one who offered me the money. And trust me, she was desperate,’ Lola pleaded. ‘If I’d turned it down she’d only have found some other way to get rid of me.’

‘Jesus! You could have mentioned it! Did it not even occur to you to tell me what was going on?

Did you not think it might have been fair to ask me how I felt about it?’

‘I was going to.’ Lola’s fists were clenched with frustration; not being able to tell him the truth meant he was always goingto think she was a mercenary bitch. Helplessly she said, ‘But you were moving up to Edinburgh, you’d have started socialising with all those girls up there ...’

‘What?’

‘We were so young! What were the chances, realistically, of us staying together? I knew I loved you,’ Lola rattled on in desperation, ‘but what if I’d said no to the money then a few weeks later you’d met someone you liked more than me? How stupid would I have felt if you’d sent me a Dear John letter then?’

In the darkness Doug raised his hands.’Fine.You did absolutely the right thing. Let’s just forget it, shall we?’

Did he mean that? ‘Let’s.’ Lola nodded eagerly, wondering if now might be a good moment for a lovely-to-see-you-again kiss. ‘From now on all that stuff’s behind us, right? We can start afresh.’

‘Start afresh?’ There was a smidgeon of sarcasm in his voice. ‘No need to go that far, surely.You’ll be leaving soon enough.’

‘I don’t have to.’ Hurrying after him as he abruptly turned and headed down the path leading back to the house, Lola said, ‘I’ve only just got here! Dougie, it’s fantastic to see you again, we’ve got so much catching up to do.’

‘Trust me, we haven’t.’

‘But I want to know what you’ve been doing!’ Desperation made her reckless. ‘And you came outside, so that means you wanted to talk to me too.’

Dougie reached the front door and paused to look at her. ‘I came outside for a cigarette.’

‘You smoke now?’

‘Not a lot.’

‘You should give up,’ said Lola.

A muscle twitched irritably in his jaw. ‘I did give up. Six weeks ago.’

So her sudden reappearance had jolted him. Lola sniffed the air but could only detect cold earth and aftershave. ‘I can’t smell smoke.’

Dougie pulled a single cigarette and Bic lighter from his shirt pocket. ‘I was about to light it when I heard you talking on the phone.’

‘So you didn’t smoke it, you listened to me instead. See? I’m coming in useful already.’

Reaching out and snatching the cigarette from his hand, Lola snapped it in two and tossed it over her shoulder into a lavender bush.

Dougie heaved a sigh and pushed open the front door. ‘If you hadn’t been here I wouldn’t have been tempted in the first place. If you want to do something really useful you’ll leave.’

‘There you are.’ Adele, flinty eyed, was standing in the hall with Sally beside her. ‘We were wondering what had happened to you.’

‘We’ve been catching up.’ Dougie’s tone was brusque. ‘I’ve just been hearing about the ten thousand pounds you paid Lola to stop seeing me.’

Adele shot Lola a look capable of shrivelling grapes. ‘So she told you, did she? Ten thousand pounds, is that what she said?’ Lola’s heart sank like a dropped anchor.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Doug demanded.

‘I offered ten thousand. But that wasn’t enough for her. She demanded fifteen.’ Adele shrugged elegantly. ‘And then, when I refused, she started haggling.’

Oh God.

‘So did you,’ Lola whispered.

Doug shook his head. ‘I don’t believe this. How much did you end up with?’

‘Twelve.’

‘Twelve and a half,’ said Adele the hateful witch.

‘OK, but I needed that—’

‘Stop.’ Dougie held up his hands. ‘I’ve heard enough. Now I definitely need a drink.’ He turned and strode back into the drawing room.

Lola watched him go. It probably wasn’t the moment to be thinking this, but he was even more irresistible when he was angry.

‘Now see what you’ve done: said Adele. ‘Why don’t you leave before you ruin the entire evening?’

It might have been a tempting proposition earlier but that was before Dougie had turned up.

Since leaving was no longer an option – because what if she never saw him again? – Lola said,

‘Look, I’m not as bad as you’re making out. I only took that money because there was an emergency and I desperately needed it. I’m actually a really nice person. Can’t we just forget about all that old stuff?’

I patted your thigh, for God’s sake.

Adele exhaled audibly. ‘None of us was expecting this to happen this evening. I’m grateful for what you did the other night, obviously. But I can’t pretend I’m happy to see you again. Giving you the money was what I needed to do at the time, but I never wanted Doug to find out.’

‘Trust me, neither did I. He overheard me on the phone and I really wish he hadn’t. That’s why I need to talk to him properly, to explain. Don’t worry, I won’t slag you off.’ As Lola said this she saw Adele wince at the turn of phrase, proving as it did how common she was and how wildly unsuitable for someone as well brought up as Doug.

‘Well, let’s just get through the rest of the evening without any more unpleasantness.’ Adele shook her coiffured hair slightly as if dismissing the thought of it from her mind. Cracking a thin pseudo-smile she said, ‘Shall we go through and join the others?’

‘I’ll follow in a minute, when I’ve just, um ...’ Lola pointed to the downstairs loo, dithered over what the polite word for it was, then wondered why she was bothering. ‘After I’ve had a quick wee.’

The cloakroom was small but stylish, all ivory marble and tasteful lighting. A bit too tasteful actually; Lola, touching up her make-up, had to lean right across the sink to get close enough to the mirror to check she didn’t have speckles of mascara on her cheeks.

Lost in thought about Doug and how she might win him over against his better judgement, Lola jumped out of her skin when her phone suddenly rang. Losing her precarious balance and about to topple nose first into the mirror, she put out a hand to stop herself and sent her make-up bag flying off the side of the sink.

‘Noooo!’ Lola let out a shriek of horror as the bag landed with a splosh in the toilet bowl. Not her make-up ... oh God...

It was too late, the contents of her cosmetics bag were already drowned. All her favourite things

– lovely eyeshadows, bronzing powder, eye pencils, her three very best lipsticks – were sitting there submerged in the bottom of the loo. And to add insult to injury her bloody phone was still ringing.

‘Gabe, I know you’re trying to help, but NOT NOW!’ Switching the phone off again, Lola surveyed the scene of devastation and let out a groan of despair. ‘Oh hell ...’

Then she jumped again, because someone was tapping cautiously on the cloakroom door.

‘Hello? Everything OK in there?’ It was a worried female, possibly Sally.

‘It’s all right. I’m fine.’ At the sight of her all-time favourite Urban Decay super-sparkly mocha eyeshadow, Lola could have cried.

‘Lola? Is that you? What’s happened?’

Seeing as it was Sally, Lola unlocked the door.

She didn’t have to say a word.

‘Oh no, poor you! Crikey, no wonder you let out a screech. I had my handbag stolen once.’ Sally squeezed her arm in sympathy. ‘I mean, having to replace my credit cards and stuff was a pain in the neck. But losing my make-up was just traumatic. When I found out my favourite mascara had been discontinued I practically had a nervous breakdown right there in Harvey Nicks.’

Despite everything, Lola grinned. ‘You’re making me feel so much better.’

‘Oh, sorry!’

‘And we can’t leave it in there.’ Bracing herself, Lola bent down and gingerly picked the unzipped make-up bag out of the toilet bowl then dropped it – splat – into the waste bin beneath the sink. ‘Typical that it had to happen before I had a chance to do my mouth.’

‘Well, I can help you there.You want to borrow lipstick? Just come upstairs with me.’

Everything in Sally’s bedroom was yellow and white and super-tidy. Sitting on the king-sized bed and gazing around, Lola said, ‘This is a great room.’

‘It’d be more great if it wasn’t in my mother’s house.’ Sally grimaced. ‘Not that I don’t love her, but it’s hardly ideal, is it? I’m thirty-six. I was living with my boyfriend in Wimbledon until a fortnight ago but we broke up so I moved in here temporarily.’

‘What happened with you and the boyfriend?’

‘Oh God, nightmare. I’m a walking disaster when it comes to men.’ Sally shook her head. ‘I paid for him to have his teeth bleached as a birthday present because that’s what he wanted. Next thing I know, he’s telling me he’s seeing the dental nurse. So that’s it, I’m single again, back with my mother and giving up on men. I’m going to buy myself a dear little cottage somewhere in the country and breed llamas instead. Knit my own socks and grow my own jam. Wouldn’t that be idyllic?’ She paused, holding up a fuchsia-pink Chanel lipstick and scrutinising Lola’s mouth. ‘What kind of colour are you after?’

‘Something rusty-bronzy rather than pink, if you’ve got it. Can you knit?’

‘Well, no, but I could always pay some sweet little old lady to do that for me. Rusty-bronzy, rusty-bronzy ...’ Sally was busily rummaging through the boxes on her dressing table.

‘If you’d rather live in Notting Hill, my neighbour’s off to Australia next week. He’s letting his flat out for a year.’ Lola couldn’t help herself; it was worth a shot and at least Sally didn’t work in an abattoir.

‘Is he? I haven’t been to Notting Hill for years. Oooh, I know the one you need ...’ Sally flitted out of the bedroom, returning moments later with a lipstick in a bullet-shaped gold case. ‘Here you go, it was on the bathroom shelf all the time. Is this more you?’

Lola took it with relief. Versace, no less, and a gorgeous, distinctive shade of russet-red with a brownish-gold lustre. ‘This is exactly me.’ Peering into the dressing-table mirror, she applied it with a flourish and smacked her lips together.’Perfect. Now I can face the world again. Does Dougie have a girlfriend?’

‘D’you know, I’m not sure. He was seeing someone a while back, but I don’t know if it’s still going on. You know what men are like, they don’t talk about that kind of stuff like we do.’ Sally fluffed translucent powder onto her nose and said, ‘Why? Do you still fancy him?’

Only an older sister could say it quite like that, as if it was on a par with fancying Quasimodo.

Lola said regretfully,’He’s gorgeous.We were so happy together once and I messed that up. It was all my own fault, I know that, I made a mistake but at the time I didn’t ... I just couldn’t ...’

‘Oh please, I didn’t mean to make you feel worse.You were only seventeen,’ Sally exclaimed.

‘We all make mistakes at that age. And, OK, Dougie was miserable but he recovered. It’s not like he joined a monastery!’

Grateful for Sally’s understanding, Lola managed a wobbly smile. ‘I’m glad he didn’t. Sorry, seeing him again like this has been a bit overwhelming. But who knows, maybe I can persuade him I’m irresistible and he’ll forgive me ...’

The bedroom door, which hadn’t been shut, swung further open. ‘Look,’ Doug said curtly, ‘I really wish I didn’t have to keep overhearing this stuff, but Philip wants to make a speech and he asked me to round everyone up.’

‘OK, we’re done here.’ Sally gaily flipped back her hair and headed for the door.

‘And can I just say,’ Doug fixed Lola with a steely knee-trembler of a gaze as she passed him in the doorway, ‘don’t waste your energy with the being irresistible bit, because I’m not interested.’

Hang on, what were the qualities he’d always admired in her when they’d been a couple? Her eternal optimism and refusal to take no for an answer?

‘You might change your mind,’ Lola said bravely. ‘I’m very lovable.’

‘Not to me.’

‘I could be. If you’d just give me a chance.’

‘Lola, don’t even bother to try. Nothing is going to happen between you and me. After this evening we won’t see each other again and that’s fine by me. So let’s just go downstairs, shall we, and get this farce over with. The sooner it’s done, the sooner you can go home.’

Everyone gathered in the drawing room for Philip’s speech. It was sweet, if hard to believe, hearing this nice man speak so movingly about the happiness Adele had brought into his life.

Everyone raised their glasses to Adele, then Philip went on to talk about Lola and her actions on the night of the mugging. He concluded by announcing that they were all indebted to her, and that from now on she was part of the family. Cue applause, a toast and – hilariously – another brittle hug from Adele. It was like being embraced by a Ryvita.

Then the embarrassing bit was over and everyone went back to drinking and chatting amongst themselves. Everyone except Adele, who looked at Lola’s mouth and said, ‘What an extraordinary coincidence, you appear to use the same lipstick as me.’

Oh bugger, bugger. And she knew.

‘Sorry.’ Lola couldn’t believe she hadn’t recognised it earlier. ‘I ... um, lost mine and Sally offered to lend me one. I didn’t realise it was yours.’

‘You may as well take it with you when you leave.’ Adele shuddered as if Lola had just spat on the hors d’oeuvres. ‘It’s not as if I’d use it again now’

‘Everything OK?’ Doug joined them.

‘Lola used my lipstick.’ With an incredulous half-laugh Adele said, ‘I must be old-fashioned. It just seems an incredibly brazen thing to do. So ... personal.’

Lola opened her mouth to protest but now Dougie was surveying her with equal distaste, as if she were Typhoid Mary going around spreading her vile germs on other people’s lipsticks. There came a time when you simply had to accept that winning someone over wasn’t an option.

When Lola’s phone trilled for the third time that evening, Adele’s mouth narrowed with fresh annoyance.

Will you stop hanging up on me?’ Gabe demanded. ‘I do have better things to do with my time than keep trying to get through to you. It’s not that complicated,’ he rattled on. ‘I just need to know if everything’s going OK. A simple yes or no will—’

‘Are you serious? The contractions are how far apart? Just wait there and stay calm,’ said Lola.

‘Boil the kettle and take deep breaths. I’m on my way’

Chapter 10

I dreamt about him last night,’ said Lola.

Cheryl was restocking the bestseller shelves at the front of the shop. Pausing to gaze at the book in her hand, she frowned and said, ‘Dreamt about who? Harry Potter?’

‘As if. I’m talking about Dougie, you dingbat.’

‘Oh. You mean you’re still talking about Dougie. Do the words "not a hope in hell" mean anything to you?’

Honestly, just because Cheryl’s marriage had ended in a bad way; now forty and happily divorced, she was enjoying a man-free life. Doggedly, Lola said, ‘Failure is not an option.’

‘Flogging a dead horse?’ Cheryl persisted. ‘Chasing rainbows? Expecting a miracle?’

‘Don’t be such a pessimist. I dreamt I was rowing a boat down Portobello Road and I lost one of my oars, but all of a sudden Dougie swam up to me and jumped into the boat.’

‘And tipped you out?’

‘And rescued me! He showed me the hidden switch that turned on the engine.’ Lola felt herself growing misty-eyed at the memory. ‘And the next thing I knew, we were whizzing along like something out of a James Bond film, all through thestreets with people screaming and diving out of our way, and Dougie was sitting next to me with his leg pressing against mine...

‘Is this about to turn into one of those mucky dreams?’

‘Sadly not. We didn’t have time. My alarm went off.’ Lola passed Cheryl a handful of Dan Browns; it was Monday afternoon, three days since the party, and Dougie had taken up more or less permanent residence inside her head. It wasn’t going to be easy, making someone love you again when they didn’t even want to see you, but she’d never felt this way about anyone else; having him reappear in her life like this was just

‘By the way, someone’s watching you,’ said Cheryl.

‘They are? Who?’ It didn’t take long to conjure up a fantasy; in less than a split second Lola had the whole Officer-and-a-Gentleman scenario rolling. When she turned round, Dougie would be making his way across the shop floor towards her like Richard Gere. OK, maybe he wouldn’t actually be wearing that white officer’s uniform but he’d still sweep her effortlessly up into his arms and carry her out, while staff and customers alike clapped and cheered, whooping with delight and calling out, Way to go, Lola.’

‘That one over there by autobiographies.’

Lola turned slowly and another delicious fantasy was dashed. For crying out loud, the man was in his fifties; why would she even want him to carry her out of the shop?

‘That’s not Doug.’

Cheryl rolled her eyes. ‘I didn’t say it was. He’s been looking over at you, that’s all. Really looking.’

‘Probably saw me on TV last week and now he’s trying to pluck up the courage to ask for my autograph.’ Lola prepared to smile in a cheery, down-to-earth fashion and prove that fame hadn’t gone to her head — God, wouldn’t it be fantastic if he really did ask? — but the man had turned away. Oh well. Ooh, unless he was a private detective hired by Dougie to find out if she was a nicer person now than she’d been ten years ago .. . he’d done his best to put her out of his mind but hadn’t been able to ... maybe he could forgive her after all ...

‘Are you daydreaming again? Tim’s waving at you,’ Cheryl pointed out. ‘They’re short-handed over at the pay desk.’

Ten minutes later Lola’s fan arrived at her till. Up close he was younger than she’d first thought; in his mid-forties probably. His hair was dark and just that bit longer than usual, and he was wearing a striped mulberry and olive shirt with well-cut black trousers. Quite trendy for a man of his age. Nice grey eyes too.

‘I’ve never read one of these before.’ He passed over the book, a thriller by a prolific American author. ‘Is he good?’

‘Seriously good.You won’t be able to stop reading even when you want to.You’ll be holding your breath for hours.’ Lola rang the book up, aware that the man was studying her name badge.

‘Sorry.’ He saw that she’d noticed. ‘Nice name. Unusual.’

‘Thanks.’ She took his ten pound note and scooped the change out of the till. He was way too old for her to be interested in him in any romantic way but he had an attractive smile. ‘There you go.

Hope you enjoy it. Don’t blame me if you get sacked for not being able to stay awake at work tomorrow.’

His smile broadened. ‘And if I do enjoy it, I’ll be back to buy another one.’

There was something about the way he was looking at her that made Lola wonder if this was how it felt to be famous. She said lightly, ‘Do you recognise me?’

He looked startled. ‘What?’

‘I was interviewed on TV the other night. I thought maybe you’d seen it.’

The man’s expression cleared. ‘No, I’m afraid I missed that. I just came in to buy a book.’

Damn, she wasn’t famous after all. ‘Sorry.’

‘No problem.’ He relaxed visibly. ‘I’m sorry I missed it. Were you good?’

‘I was brilliant.’ As Lola passed him the bag containing his thriller a thought struck her: Why was he now visibly relaxed? Innocently she said, ‘Does anyone ever recognise you?’

Ha, that surprised him.

‘Excuse me?’

‘I just wondered if people ever realised who you are.’ Another pause. ‘Why would they?’

‘Maybe because they’re very clever and they’ve worked it out.’ Lola flashed him a sunny smile.

He looked at her. ‘Worked what out?’

‘That you’re a private detective.’

‘Me?’ He pointed to his chest, shaking his head in amused disbelief. ‘Is that what you think? I’m not a private detective.’

Luckily there was a lull at the tills; no other customers were waiting to be served.

‘Ah,’ said Lola, ‘but you would say that, wouldn’t you?’

‘I suppose so. But I’m still not one.’

‘Except that could be you covering your tracks, like any good private detective would.’

He tilted his head to one side. ‘So if I was, which I promise I’m not, who would I be spying on?’

‘Ooh, I don’t know Anyone in this shop.’ Lola shrugged playfully. ‘Me, perhaps.’

‘You. And why would a private detective be tailing you?’ Another brief pause. ‘Are you in some kind of trouble?’

‘Not at all.’ She’d only said it on the spur of the moment – nothing ventured, nothing gained –

but Lola knew now that this man was no more than a charming stranger, albeit a slightly bemused one, thanks to her interrogation. ‘OK, you’re not a private detective. I believe you.’

He nodded gravely. ‘Thank you.’

Out of nowhere a queue for the tills had materialised. Lola said, ‘Enjoy your book.’

The man left, clutching his dark blue Kingsley’s carrier bag and wearing the kind of expression that people have when they think they’ve handed over a ten pound note and been given change for twenty.

Chapter 11

Weren’t Toastabags the greatest invention in the whole world ever?

The toaster popped up and Lola hooked out the bag, tipping the gorgeous crispy toasted cheese and tomato sandwich onto a plate. Possibly her favourite food, and to think that when she’d first clapped eyes on a Toastabag she hadn’t believed it could work, because how could a plasticky baggy-type thing go into an electric toaster and not melt?

OK, toasted sandwich: check.

DVD in DVD player: check. She’d treated herself to the latest release starring Tom Dutton, one of her favourite actors.

Box of tissues: check. When she’d dragged Gabe along to the cinema to see the film she’d honked like a big goose during the weepy bits and shown herself right up.

Remote control for DVD player: check.

Remote control for TV ... bum, where was it? Oh, under the sofa cushions. Check.

Now she was all ready to go .. .

The doorbell rang as she was about to take the first heavenly bite of toasted sandwich. Someone had a sense of humour.

Lola looked at her make-up-free reflection in the kitchen window, teamed with dripping wet hair and lime-green towelling dressing gown, and really hoped Tom Dutton hadn’t chosen this moment to pitch up on her doorstep.

She pressed the intercom. ‘Yes?’

‘Lola?’

A female voice. ‘Who’s that?’

‘It’s me! Sally Tennant!’

Good grief. Sally. Doug’s sister. As Lola pressed the buzzer, her stomach gave a little squiggle of excitement. ‘Come on up.’

Sally, wrapped in a glamorous cream coat and black patent high-heeled boots, was looking glossy and stylish. She would have looked even more stylish if there hadn’t been a pair of sparkly red plastic antlers flashing away on top of her head.

‘Oh sorry.’ She pulled a face when she saw Lola’s hair and dressing gown. ‘Bad time?’

‘Of course not. I can’t believe you’re here.’ Lola ushered her into the living room, switched off the TV. ‘Is this something to do with Doug?’

‘Doug.’ Sally looked blank. ‘No. Haven’t seen him. Why, have you?’

No’ Lola swallowed her disappointment.

‘I asked Philip for your address. I’m here about that flat you told me about.’

The flat. Lola hadn’t thought for a moment that Sally would take her up on the offer — she hadn’t appeared to be even listening when she’d mentioned it. And now she was actually here.

Talk about cutting it fine. But at the same time, how brilliant.

‘You’re really interested? That’s fantastic. Gabe’s off to Australia tomorrow ... he’s out saying goodbye to his friends tonight, God only knows what time he’ll be back. But I’ve got a key. I can show you the flat now’ Tightening the belt of her dressing gown, Lola said, ‘You’ll love it, I promise!’

’Gabe? Can you hear me?’ At the other end of the phone Lola could make out yet more noisy celebrations. ‘I’ve just found someone for your flat. Remember I told you about Sally, Doug’s sister? Well, she’s here and she’s had a look round, and it’s just what—’

‘What?’ hissed Sally when Lola abruptly stopped and listened. ‘Doesn’t he want me to move in?

Why, what’s wrong with me? Tell him he won’t find a better tenant anywhere. Look, I can pay the deposit now, money isn’t a problem ... Lola, tell him how much I want this flat!’

Lola said slowly, ‘Yes ... OK, right ... no, of course I understand.’ She finished listening to Gabe then hung up.

‘What?’ wailed Sally. ‘Why can’t I have it? I want it!’

Lola felt a twinge of guilt; she was the one who’d begged Gabe not to take on Terry-the-abbatoir-worker.

‘It’s not you. Gabe registered the flat this morning with a lettings agency. He’s signed a contract with them. And they rang him a couple of hours ago to tell him they were bringing a client round tonight. If this guy says he wants it, there’s nothing we can do. He’s got first refusal,’ she explained. ‘And he’s keen to find somewhere fast.’

‘Oh’ Sally looked crestfallen. ‘Well, maybe he won’t like it.’

‘Everyone likes Gabe’s flat. Damn it,’ Lola said frustratedly, ‘I want you to be my neighbour, I don’t want some smelly boy moving in next door ..

‘What?’ Sally eyed her with curiousity as Lola’s voice trailed off. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘Gabe says they’re due round at eight.’ Lola checked her watch. ‘I’m just wondering what time the corner shop shuts.’

With a glimmer of a smile Sally said, ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re a little bit weird?’

‘Excuse me.’ Lola raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re the one with the flashing antlers on your head.’

The corner shop was still open. If Sanjeev wondered why his best customer when it came to magazines, chocolate and ice cream was all of a sudden buying up cabbages, he didn’t ask. By ten to eight the evil stench of boiled cabbage was thick in both Lola’s flat and Gabe’s. When the saucepans had been removed from Gabe’s kitchen Lola found a music channel on the TV in her own flat and turned the volume up to maximum. Eminem blared out and Sally took off her antlers, shaking out her hair and kicking off her shoes.

At three minutes past eight they heard the front door being opened downstairs, then two people entering Gabe’s flat. Lola gave it a few seconds then crossed the landing and thumped on the door.

It was opened by a man in a suit. ‘Yes?’

‘Hi there, is he in?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘The Angel Gabriel.’ Lola raised her voice to be heard above the sound of the music. ‘Mr Let’s-Complain-About-Everything.’

The letting agent said frostily, ‘If you mean Mr Adams, he isn’t here.’

‘No? Best news I’ve heard all day.’ Grinning at the potential tenant behind him – gangling, thirties, spectacles, accountantylooking – Lola said, ‘Well, can you just pass on a message from Lola and Sal across the hall, tell him we’re having a few friendsround tonight. They’ll be turning up after the pub and we’d appreciate it if he didn’t give us the usual grief, seeing as this time we’re warning him in advance.’ Leaning forward conspiratorially, she added, ‘To be honest, the police are fed up with him calling them and whingeing about us. I mean, talk about a Neddy No-Mates! If you can’t have a party and a laugh with your friends, what’s the point of living, eh?’

‘Maybe you could leave a note for Mr Adams.’ The letting agent spoke brusquely, keen to close the door on a potentially deal-breaking neighbour.

‘Hang on.’ The gawky accountant-type behind him raised his voice above the thudding hip-hop beat that was now making the floor vibrate. ‘How often do you have parties?’

‘Not often. Two or three times a week, that’s all.’

‘And the smell,’ said the accountant. ‘What is that?’

‘Hmm? Oh, can you notice it?’ Lola shrugged. ‘No idea. It comes and goes in waves –

something to do with the drains, I think. Cost us a fortune to have everything checked out but it didn’t do any good. We thought maybe Neddy No-Mates had buried someone under his floorboards.’ She paused and said, ‘Why do you want to know?’

‘This flat’s been registered with a lettings agency.’ The accountant blinked rapidly. ‘The owner’s moving to Australia.’

‘You’re kidding. Hey, fantastic!’ Hearing footsteps behind her, Lola turned and said to Sally,

‘Hear that? Neddy No-Mates is off to Oz!’

‘To get away from us?’ All of a sudden nine months pregnant beneath her coat, Sally nodded approvingly. ‘Cool. So does that mean you’re going to be our new neighbour?’

‘I, um ...’ Was that a glint of terror behind the geeky spectacles? ‘Well, I’m not ...’

‘Because if you ever fancy a spot of babysitting, I’ve got just the thing for you right here!’ Sally gave her swollen stomach a pat. ‘I mean, just because we’re having a baby doesn’t mean we have to stop doing what we want to do, does it? Whoo-hoo!’ Eminem had given way to Snoop Dogg. Sally, clutching her stomach with one hand and waving the other in the air, executed some enthusiastic hip-hop-esque dance moves. Whoo-hooooo!’

It was a sight to make a grown man nervous. Two grown men, in fact. The geek and the lettings agent edged nervously away. Lola, filled with admiration, prayed that Sally wouldn’t get carried away and attempt to shake her booty.

Imagine the embarrassment if her cushion fell out.

‘How many of you are there living in that flat?’ said the Beek.

‘Just me and Lola and this little creature when he gets here.’ Still energetically gyrating along to the music, Sally pointed gaily at her stomach.

‘Who needs a man when you’ve got a turkey baster?’ said Lola, winking at the lettings agent.

‘Our baby’s going to have two mothers who know how to have fun.’

When the agent and the geek had left the building, Lola turned off the ear-splitting music and threw open the windows in both flats to disperse the nostril-curling boiled-cabbage smell.

‘Gosh, that was fun.’ Sally pulled the balled-up velvet cushion out from under her coat and flung it onto the sofa. ‘Think it’ll do the trick?’

‘It’d do the trick if I was the one looking for a flat.’ Lola took a bottle of white wine from the fridge and poured out two glasses.

‘Poor bloke, he did look a bit stunned. I suppose we just have to wait now. Should I be drinking that in my condition?’

‘You could always have water instead.’

‘Water? Yeurgh, nasty wet watery stuff. No thanks.’ Lola’s phone rang ten minutes later and she leapt on it. ‘What did you do?’ Gabe came straight to the point. Innocently Lola said, ‘Sorry?’

‘No you’re not. I’ve just had a call from the lettings agent,’ said Gabe, ‘telling me that in view of the Situation, I’m going to need to drop my rental price.’

‘Oh Gabe, that’s terrible.’

‘Quite significantly, in fact.’

‘You poor thing!’

‘He also said getting rid of that putrid smell had to be a priority’

‘Oh dear.’

‘So this friend of yours, this sister-of-Doug,’ said Gabe. ‘I’m assuming she’s there with you now’

Lola looked over at Sally. ‘Might be.’

‘And she wants my flat.’

‘Definitely. More than anything.’

‘What caused the smell?’

‘Four big saucepans of boiled cabbage.’

‘Here, give me the phone.’ Reaching over, Sally grabbed it and said, ‘Gabe? Hi, please let me be your new tenant! I’m super-housetrained, I promise. I’d really look after your flat and I’m completely trustworthy, I’ll pay the full rent by direct debit and leave the deposit with Lola now, you won’t regret it .. . what? Oh, OK.’

‘What did he say?’ demanded Lola when Sally put down the phone.

‘That I was giving him earache.’

‘And?’

‘That moving to Australia was beginning to seem like the best decision he’d ever made.’

‘And?’

‘That you and I deserve each other and he feels sorry for our baby.’

Since Sally was currently sitting on the sofa with one elbow digging into the abandoned velvet cushion, Lola felt quite sorry for it too. ‘So that means ... ?’

Sally beamed and clinked her glass against Lola’s. ‘I can move in as soon as I like.’

Chapter 12.

’Oh, I’m going to miss you s000 much.’ Lola blinked and hiccuped; she hadn’t expected to feel this emotional but actually saying goodbye to Gabe was hard.

‘Hang on, you’re strangling me.’ He prised her off him. ‘It’s like being hugged by a giant koala.’

‘That’s to get you into practice. Oh bugger, what do I look like?’

‘A panda in a pink dress.’ Gabe watched her mopping up mascara. ‘I can’t believe you’re crying.

I’m only going for a year.’

‘I know, I know I’m being stupid.’ Lola blew her nose like a trumpeting elephant. ‘But what if you change your mind? You might decide to stay there for good and I’ll never see you again.

You’re my best male friend in the world and you’re about to fly off to the other side of it. What if you and Jaydena get married and buy a house and settle down and have loads of Aussie kids?’

She expected Gabe to burst out laughing at such a ridiculous idea, but he didn’t.

‘If that happens, you can always come out and visit us.’ Oh God, he really meant it! He was that besotted with Jaydena. Had he never even watched Kath and Kim?

Apart from anything else, Lola knew they had particularly evil spiders in Australia, the kind that hid under toilet seats and bit your bum. So she definitely couldn’t go.

‘You could come back and visit me,’ she offered.

‘What, with all those kids?’ Gabe grinned. ‘Are you crazy? We couldn’t afford it.’

He was in love. Lola did her best to feel happy for him. She looked at her watch. ‘I’m going to be late to work.’

‘And my cab’s due in ten minutes.’ Gabe gave her a kiss on the cheek and pushed her towards the door. ‘Go on, get yourself out of here. You’ve got your new friend Sally moving in tonight –

you won’t even notice I’m gone.’

’You were right,’ said the man who wasn’t a private detective.

‘Oh, hi.’ Recognising him, Lola dumped the pile of hardbacks she’d brought out from the stockroom and said cheerfully, ‘Right about what?’

‘Last night. I couldn’t put that book down. I was awake till four this morning finishing it.’ He shook his head in baffled disbelief. ‘I didn’t know reading could be like that, I had no idea. I’ve just never been a booky person. All these years I’ve been missing out.’

‘Ah, but now you’ve seen the light.’ Lola loved it when this happened; witnessing a conversion never failed to give her a thrill. ‘You’ve become one of us. Welcome to our world; you’re going to love it here.’

‘I need another thriller and I don’t know where to start.’ The man was wearing a navy suit today, with a burnt-orange shirt and a turquoise silk tie. ‘There are so many to choose from. Can you recommend an author?’

Could she recommend an author? Ha, it was only the favourite bit of her job!

‘You’d like this one.’ Lola picked up a book with a gunmetal grey cover. ‘Or this.’ Eagerly she reached across the table for another. ‘Now he’s a gripping writer.’

The man looked more closely at Lola. ‘Are you OK?’ Bugger, she’d redone her make-up on the tube on the way into work. Clearly not thoroughly enough.

‘I’m fine. It’s just ... nothing.’ Lola checked herself; he was a complete stranger. ‘Look, see how you get on with this one. When you’ve tried a few different authors we can work out which others you might like, then—’

‘Beano!’

‘Excuse me?’ She turned to face the hatchet-faced woman who had just barked in her ear.

‘I need a Beano Annual for my grandson!’

‘Sorry,’ the man in the suit shook his head apologetically and took the book with the grey cover from her. ‘You’re busy. Thanks for this. I’ll let you know how I get on with it.’

‘Come on, come on,’ bellowed the woman, spraying saliva. ‘I haven’t got all day!’

By the time Lola fought her way back through the crowds with the Beano Annual, the man in the suit was gone. The hatchet-faced woman didn’t even say thank you. But then people like that never did.

Twenty minutes later Lola felt an index finger irritably poking at her left shoulder blade. ‘Excuse me, excuse me,’ came an irritated female voice. ‘I want the new book by that Dan Black.’

Lola turned. ‘You mean Dan Brown.’

‘Don’t tell me what I mean, missy. I don’t care what the man’s name is, just get me the book.’

‘I tell you what,’ said Lola, ‘why don’t you stop expecting me to wait on you hand and foot, and get it yourself?’

Outraged, the woman sucked in her breath. ‘You impertinent creature! How dare you? I shall report you to the manager and have you sacked!’

‘And I’ll have you arrested for crimes against colour coordination. Because pink,’ Lola curled her lip at the woman’s fluffy scarf and padded jacket, ‘does not go with orange.’

Then they realised they were being watched by a bemused elderly man clutching a biography of Churchill.

‘It’s all right.’ Lola winked at him. ‘She’s my mother.’

‘Hello, darling.’ Blythe gave her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Lola’s ear. ‘Can’t stop, I’m racing to finish all my Christmas shopping then I’ve made an appointment to have my hair done this afternoon. Just popped in to show you what I’ve bought for tonight. Tell me which outfit I should keep and I’ll take the other one back.’

Lola didn’t get her hopes up; being allowed to choose was Blythe’s attempt at compromise.

Sadly it was like telling someone they were about to be thrown into deep water and generously giving them the choice between a concrete straitjacket and lead diving boots. Blythe had as much fashion sense as a chicken, coupled with a hopeless predilection for mixing and matching things that Really Didn’t Go. Somehow it hadn’t seemed to matter when Alex had been alive – between them, they had regarded Blythe’s manner of dressing as no more than an endearing quirk. But it was five years now since Alex had died and during the last eighteen months Blythe had tentatively begun dating again. All of a sudden clothes had become more important. Keen for her mother to make a good impression on the outside world, Lola had begun attempting to steer her into more stylish waters.

But it had to be said, this was on a par with trying to knit feathers. Lola braced herself as her mother rummaged in a pink carrier bag and pulled out a silky beige top.

With purply-blue satin butterflies adorning each shoulder strap.

And a purply-blue frill around each armhole.

And scattered multicoloured sequins across the cleavage area. Lola bit her lip. If it had been just a silky beige top, it would have been perfect.

‘Okaaay. Now the other one.’

‘Ta-daaa!’ Having stuffed beige’n’silky back into its bag, Blythe produced the second top and held it up against herself with a flourish, indicating that this, this one, was her favourite.

As if Lola couldn’t have guessed.Top number two was brighter – a retina-searing geranium red –

and much frillier, with jaunty layered sleeves, sparkly silver buttons down each side and a huge red and white fabric flower – bigger than a Crufts rosette – at the base of the V-neck.

Timm,’ said Lola. ‘Is this for when you run away to join the circus?’

‘Don’t be so cruel! It’s beautiful!’

‘Right, so what would you wear it with?’

Her mother looked hopeful, like a five-year-old attempting to spell her name. ‘My blue paisley skirt?’

‘No’

‘Green striped trousers?’

‘No!’

‘Oh. Well, how about the pink and gold—’

‘Noooo!’

Blythe flung up her hands in defeat. ‘You’re so picky.’

‘I’m not, I just don’t want people pointing and saying,"There goes Coco the Clown". Mum, if you really want to keep the red top, wear it with your white skirt.’

‘Except I can’t, because it’s got a big curry stain on the front. Ooh,’ Blythe exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as inspiration struck, ‘but I could snip the red flower off this top and superglue it to the skirt instead, that’d cover the mark! That’s it, problem solved!’

People would point and laugh. Lola opened her mouth to protest but her mother was busily stuffing the tops back into their carriers, checking her watch and saying, ‘Gosh, is that the time?

I must fly!’

‘Where are you going tonight?’

‘Oh, it’s just our quiz team having a Christmas get-together, something to eat followed by a bit of a bop. Malcolm’s driving, so I can have a drink.’

Hardly the Oscars. Lola let it go. Trinny and Susannah would have a field day with Malcolm, who was bearded and bear-like, with a penchant for baggy corduroys and zigzaggy patterned sweaters. Since Malcolm was to sartorial elegance what John Prescott was to ice dance, he was unlikely to object to an oversized flower attached to the front of a skirt. If you told him it was the latest thing from Karl Lagerfeld, he wouldn’t doubt it for a minute.

But Malcolm wasn’t what Lola had in mind for her mother. Sweet though he was in his bumbling teddy-bear way, she had her sights set several notches higher than that. Because Blythe deserved the best.

Chapter 13

The eye-watering, throat-tightening boiled-cabbage smell had gone, thank goodness. Loaded up like a donkey, Sally struggled through to the living room then dumped her belongings on the floor.

Excitement squiggled through her stomach. This was it, her new home for the next twelve months at least. New flat, new resolutions, whole new life.

Chief resolution being: no more having her heart broken by boyfriends who were nothing more than rotten no-good hounds.

And where better to start than here? Sally gazed around, taking in the unadorned cream walls, ivory rugs and pale minimalist ultra-modern furniture. There was no denying it looked like a show home. Even the light switches were minimalist. What with the total lack of clutter, it also exuded an air of bachelor-about-town.

Oh well, soon sort that out.

‘In here, love?’ Huffing and puffing a bit, the taxi driver appeared in the doorway with several more cases.

‘Just chuck them down. Thanks.’ He was in his fifties, grey-haired and ruddy-cheeked, wearing a wedding ring. Was he a lovely man, completely devoted to his wife, the kind of husband who put up shelves and mowed the lawn without having to be nagged into doing it? Or was he a shy conniving cheat who promised to do those things then sloped off to the pub instead and came home hours later reeking of other women’s perfume?

Actually, he probably didn’t. Sally softened and gave him the benefit of the doubt. And she’d never know anyway, because you weren’t allowed to ask complete strangers personal questions like that. Which was, as far as she was concerned, a big shame. Why couldn’t there be a law passed, making it compulsory? Imagine meeting a man for the first time, finding him attractive and being allowed to inject him with a truth drug:

‘You seem very charming, Mr X. But if we were to have a relationship, how long would it be before you started treating me like a piece of poo on a shoe?’

‘Well, usually about a month.’

‘Thanks. Next!’

The taxi driver gave her an odd look. ‘You all right, love?’

‘Me? Oh yes, fine.’ Sally hastily collected herself ... ooh, though, how about if you could also wire them up to a machine capable of delivering painful electric shocks when the response warranted it? ‘Sorry, miles away. How much do I owe you?’

When he’d left, Sally shrugged off her coat, pushed up her sleeves and set to work opening the first couple of cases. She was going to be happy here in Radley Road. Happier still, once she’d made the flat her own.

Left standing at the altar was a lonely place to be. It sounded like a line from a country and western song. Worse still, when it had actually happened, it had felt like being trapped in a country and western song. Some memories faded but humiliation on that scale was never going to go away.

And that bad just been Barry the Bastard. There’d been loads more over the years, more than any girl should have to endure, ranging from Tim the Tosser whom she’d lived with in Ireland for over a year, to Pisshead Pete seven Christmases ago. Culminating, needless to say, in her latest calamitous choice, William the Wanker. And in truth he was no great loss; the dental nurse he’d run off with was welcome to him. His gleaming, too-white teeth had looked weird anyway, like something out of a Disney cartoon.

‘Hellooo?’

Sally was looping multicoloured fairy lights around the fireplace when the bell buzzed and she heard Lola’s voice. Eagerly she rushed to open the door.

‘Wow,’ said Lola, gazing around the living room. Wow was an understatement. ‘This is ...

different.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Sally beamed with pride. ‘I can’t believe how much I’ve got done in three hours!

Nothing like a splash of colour to cheer a place up! You know, I really think I have a flair for interior design — I should do it for a living. The world would be a happier place if we all did our homes like this.’

The world would definitely be full of people wearing sunglasses. The floor was littered with empty bags and cases, not to mention several packets of biscuits. There were bright paintings adorning Gabe’s cool cream walls, with five ... no, six ... no, seven sets of fairy lights draped around the frames. The brushed-steel lampshade from the Conran shop had been taken down; in its place was a hot-pink chandelier. The ivory cushions on the sofa sported new fluffy orange covers. A sequinned pink-and-orange throw covered the seat below the window. And a fountain of fake sparkly flowers exploded out of a silver bowl on top of the TV.

‘Good for you,’ said Lola. ‘If Gabe could see this, he’d have a fit.’

‘Good job he’s in Australia then.’ Unperturbed, Sally reached into one of the cases and pulled out a swathe of peacock feathers awash with iridescent blue and green glitter. ‘Pass me that gold vase, over there, would you? At the weekend I’m going to paint my bedroom to match these!’

‘Paint the bedroom?’ Lola felt she owed it to Gabe to look dubious; he’d spent a fortune having his flat redone just three months ago.

‘It’s too plain as it is! Like being in a prison cell! I’m here for a whole year,’ said Sally.

‘Anyway, it’s only a couple of coats of paint — if your friend really hates it, I’ll slosh some cream over the walls the day before he gets back.’

‘Sorry. Gabe’s a bit fussy, that’s all. He had the colour specially mixed.’

Sally’s eyebrows shot up. ‘This colour? Are you serious? How hard is it to go down to B&Q and buy a vat of emulsion?’

‘I know, I know.’ Lola raised her hands, disclaiming responsibility. ‘He’s just ... particular.’

‘Is he gay?’

‘Trust me. Gabe’s the opposite of gay.’

‘He’s also fifty zillion miles away. So what I think is, you don’t mention to him that I’m repainting his flat, and neither will I.’

‘Go on then.’ Relenting, Lola opened her bag. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

‘Oh my God, champagne!’

‘Not quite. It was either one bottle of the proper stuff or two of pretend.’ Lola held one bottle in each hand.

‘And we wouldn’t want to run out.’ Seizing them, Sally said joyfully, ‘Come on, let’s pop these corks — whoops, don’t step on the Garibaldis!’

’... I mean, I’m thirty-six years old and this is the first time I’ve been able to do out a room just the way I like. How crazy is that?’

By ten o’clock the first bottle had been upended into the waste bin (parrot-pink, trimmed with marabou) and the second vas three-quarters empty. Sally was cross-legged on the rug (purple, speckled with biscuit crumbs), waving her glass dramatically as she ran through her life history.

With the chandelier switched off, the many strings of fairy lights gave the room the kind of festive multicoloured glow that had Lola half expecting to be given a present. She frowned, puzzled by Sally’s statement. ‘What, you’ve never been allowed to do it before? What about when you were a teenager?’

‘God, especially when I was a teenager! My mother sent the cleaner into my bedroom every morning to tidy everything up and make my bed. I was allowed to have three posters on my wall.’ Sally paused to scoop another biscuit from the packet on the floor next to her. ‘As long as they were posters of horses. I was more of a Spandau Ballet, Duran Duran kind of girl, but she wouldn’t let me put them on the walls. Ghastly creatures, she called Duran Duran. And Spandau were yobs. I think she was terrified I’d find myself a boyfriend who wore ruffled shirts and make-up.’

Lola pictured Adele’s horror at the prospect. ‘So what happened next?’

‘Daft question. I found myself a boyfriend who wore ruffled shirts and make-up:

‘And you were how old when you left home?’

‘Eighteen. But I’ve never lived on my own, it’s always been either flat-sharing or moving in with boyfriends. Which means there’s always been someone around to moan about my decorating plans. I’ve spent the last eighteen years having to compromise. Well, not any more.’ Sally’s exuberant gesture encompassed the room and caused the contents of her glass to spill in an arc across the rug. ‘From now on I’m going to do what I want to do and no one’s going to stop me.

No more Tim the Tosser, no more Pisshead Pete, no more boring men telling me I can’t have leopard-print wallpaper in my kitchen. Bum, my glass is empty.’

‘That would be because you just swung it upside down.’

Did I? Bum, now this is empty.’ Tipsily aghast, Sally gave the second bottle a shake. ‘OK, don’t panic, I’ve got a bottle of white burgundy in the fridge — whoops, my foot’s gone to sleep, I hate it when that happens.’

‘Shall I get it?’ Lola jumped up, because Sally’s attempts to stand were of the Bambi-on-ice persuasion.

‘Excellent plan. But you’ll have to hunt around for a corkscrew.’

In the kitchen, Lola took out the chilled burgundy and rummaged through drawers in search of Gabe’s corkscrew Surely he hadn’t taken it with him.

The doorbell rang and she heard Sally say perplexedly, ‘Who can that be?’ But she must have limped over to the intercom because twenty seconds later the door to the flat was opened and Sally exclaimed, ‘I wasn’t expecting you here tonight!’

Friend?

Mother? Please no.

Old boyfriend?

Lola’s hands froze in mid-corkscrew search as she heard the visitor say, ‘I know, but I have to meet a client in Oxford tomorrow morning, so this was the only time I could bring the stuff over.

I tried to call but your phone’s switched off.’

Oh, that voice, it was like warm honey spreading through her veins. Not one of Sally’s old boyfriends then, thought Lola. One of mine!

‘That would explain why George Clooney hasn’t rung. Thanks, just dump the cases against the wall.’ Bursting with pride Sally said, ‘So what d’you think of my new flat?’

Lola listened, holding her breath.

‘Bloody hell. It’s like a cross between Santa’s grotto and a Moroccan souk.’

‘I know, isn’t it fantastic?’ Sally clapped her hands. ‘I can’t believe how gorgeous it looks!’

Doug said drily, ‘I can’t believe you’re my sister.’ Evidently spotting the empty wine glasses on the coffee table he added, ‘Drinking for two now? Or has someone else been round?’

Sally giggled. ‘Someone else is still round.’

OK, enough skulking in the kitchen. Lola stepped into the living room. ‘Actually I wouldn’t call myself round, more curvily girl-shaped.’

Chapter 14

’Oh, for God’s sake.’ Dark eyes narrowing, Doug said impatiently, ‘Not you again.’

It hurt, but as far as he was concerned, Lola knew she deserved it. Just as well she was the optimistic type; maybe she could win him round. Dougie, I’ve already said I’m sorry’

‘I know you have. But what are you doing here?’ he demanded.

Dougie, don’t be so rude,’ wailed Sally. ‘Lola’s my friend.’

‘I’m more than her friend.’ Lola flashed him a playful smile and saw the split-second look of horror on his face ... Jesus, surely not ... ‘I’m her next door neighbour.’

Doug shook his head in disbelief; being a neighbour might not be quite as alarming as being a predatory lesbian but it was evidently a close-run thing. He looked over at his sister. ‘You didn’t mention this.’

‘Of course I didn’t. If I’d told you I was going to be moving in next door to Lola, you’d have tried to talk me out of it.’

Exasperated, Doug retorted, ‘Damn right I would. And I’m not the only one.’

‘Well, too bad. I don’t care what Mum says — it’s not my fault she doesn’t like Lola. You and Mum should put all that old stuff behind you, it’s irrelevant now. Anyway, this is my flat and I’m jolly well staying here!

Overcome with gratitude, Lola longed to burst into applause, but the line of Dougie’s jaw wasn’t exactly forgiving. Instead she attempted to change the subject.

‘Errm, I couldn’t find the corkscrew.’

‘OK, I think there’s one in one of the cases in my bedroom. Hang on, I’ll go and have a look.’

‘You never know,’ Doug said softly when Sally had left the room, ‘play your cards right and you could land yourself another handy little windfall. My mother might be so keen to keep you away from Sal that she’d be prepared to pay you to move out.’

It hurt like a knife sliding in under her ribs. Lola said, ‘Look, what do you want me to do? Fall on my knees and beg for forgiveness? I did a bad thing once and I’m sorry I hurt you, but at the time I didn’t have any choice.’

Doug shook his head. ‘Fine. Anyway, we’re not going to argue about that again. I’m just here to drop off the rest of Sal’s things. I’ll fetch them from the car.’

‘I’ll help you! Had Sally still not managed to locate the corkscrew or was she being discreet and keeping out of the way?

‘No need.’

‘I want to.’ Lola followed him out into the hallway. ‘I can manage.’

‘But it’s going to be easier if there’s two of us.’ She clattered down the stairs behind him. ‘And I’m strong! Remember that time I beat you at arm-wrestling?’

Doug’s shoulders stiffened. ‘No.’

‘Oh, come on. At Mandy Green’s party. Her brother started this whole arm-wrestling competition out in the garden because he said no girl could beat a boy. But he was wrong,’ Lola said proudly, ‘because I did, I beat him and I beat you—’

‘That’s because I let you win: Doug said curtly.

‘What?You didn’t! Ouch.’As he reached the front door, Lola cannoned into his back.

‘Of course I did.’ Doug yanked open the door, shooting her a dismissive look over his shoulder.

‘Did you seriously think you were stronger than me?’

‘But ... but ..’ Lola had spent the last decade — ten whole years — being proud of that achievement. And now Doug was shattering her illusions. This was like suddenly being told that Father Christmas didn’t exist.

Woooooop went the dark green Mercedes on the other side of the road as Doug pointed a key at it.

Unless ... unless he was lying when he said he’d let her win.

‘Right, you can carry the bags with the clothes in. They’re not so heavy.’ He opened the boot.

‘I’ll deal with the boxes of books: Books. If there was one thing Lola was the queen of, it was carrying piles of books. Who needed to lift weights in a gym when you worked at Kingsley’s?

Reaching past Doug she slammed the boot shut.

‘Jesus!’ He snatched his hand away in the nick of time. ‘You nearly had my fingers off! What d’you think you’re playing at?’

‘I don’t believe you lost on purpose. I think that’s just your excuse.’ Pushing up the sleeve of her sweater to give her elbow some grip, Lola angled herself up against the corner of the car’s boot and waggled her fingers. ‘So we’ll just fmd out, shall we? On your marks, get set ...’

‘I tell you what,’ said Doug, ‘why don’t we just carry my sister’s things into the flat?’

‘Chicken.’

‘Lola, let me open the boot.’

‘Clucka-lucka-luck’

He gave her a raised-eyebrow look. ‘What?’

OK, if she hadn’t been a teeny bit squiffy she possibly wouldn’t have done that. ‘It’s my chicken impression.’

‘Not exactly Rory Bremner, are you?’

‘Ooh, I saw Rory Bremner once,’ Lola said excitedly. ‘In a delicatessen:

‘He must have been thrilled. Can we get the stuff out now?’ She waggled her fingers once more.

‘You’re really scared I’ll win, aren’t you?’

‘I don’t believe this.’ Heaving a sigh, Doug pushed up the sleeve of his pale grey sweatshirt, assumed the position against the car and clasped Lola’s right hand. Her heart lolloped as his warm fingers closed around hers. She could feel his breath on her face, smell the aftershave he was wearing, see the glint of stubble on his jaw, imagine the way his mouth would feel if she were to kiss him right now ...

Like premature ejaculation it was all over far too soon. CLONCK went the back of her forearm against the boot of the Mercedes.

‘That’s not fair,’ Lola wailed. ‘I wasn’t ready’

‘Correction. You weren’t strong enough.’ He paused. ‘What are you doing now?’

‘Nothing. Just looking at you.’ She’d seen a lot of eyes in her life but none more beautiful than Dougie’s. He had the thickest, darkest eyelashes of any man she’d ever known.

‘Well, stop it. I don’t trust what’s going on here. All of a sudden you’re persuading my sister to move into the flat next to yours and I want to know why’

‘I didn’t persuade her. It was her decision. But I’m glad she chose to,’ said Lola. ‘Because I like Sally. We get on well together. And I’d rather have her living next door than the geeky nerdy type who would have moved in if she hadn’t come along in the nick of time.’

‘Is that the only reason?’

‘Of course!’

Now why don’t I believe you? Oh yes, that’s right, because you’re a mercenary liar. Take these.’

Having sprung open the boot once more, Doug dumped a huge pink canvas holdall in Lola’s arms.

‘How many times can I say I’m sorry?’

‘Forget it. Not interested.’ There was that muscle again, twitching away in his jaw as he hauled out two boxes of books. ‘Just so long as you aren’t still harbouring some kind of plan to persuade me to change my mind about you, because that’s not going to happen.’

‘I know. You told me that last week.’ Honestly, whatever happened to forgive and forget?

then we went back to my flat and tore each other’s clothes off. We had wild sex all night long and it was ... ooh, fabulous!’

‘Nice try, Pinocchio.’ Cheryl carried on stacking books on a table in readiness for an author to come in and do a stock-signing. ‘So what really happened?’

What had really happened was far less encouraging. Lola pulled a face and said, ‘He emptied the car, dumped Sally’s things in her flat and drove off.’

‘Oh dear. So you won’t be bringing him along to Bernini’s tomorrow night. I was looking forward to meeting him.’

Tomorrow night was their works Christmas party. This year for some reason someone had suggested it should be fancy dressand in a moment of madness Lola had agreed. ‘I wouldn’t inflict that on Dougie. I’m not sure he’s the dressing-up-like-an-idiot kind.’

‘Plus,’ Cheryl helpfully pointed out, ‘he’s not exactly your number one fan at the moment.’

‘I know, I know’ Lola began folding the books’ jacket flaps to the title pages to make signing speedier. Too ashamed to reveal the whole truth, she had left out the money aspect; as far as Cheryl was concerned, all that had happened was that Dougie had reacted badly to being chucked.

‘Oh, cheer up,’ said Cheryl. ‘If anyone can win him round, you can. Think about it, meeting up with your first love again is fate! It’s romantic! You made a mistake before, but there’s no reason why you can’t give things another whirl, especially if he’s as gorgeous as you say he — oh, hello!’

Looking up, Lola saw that the man who wasn’t a private detective was on the other side of the table.

‘Hi.’ He greeted them both with a friendly smile.

‘How did you get on with ... ?’ Bugger, out of the books she’d recommended, Lola couldn’t remember which one he’d ended up buying.

‘It was great. I’m going to try the other author you mentioned. It’s just that he’s written a whole lot of them and I wasn’t sure if I should start with the first in the—’

‘Lola, there’s a drunk guy trying to steal books.’ Tim rushed up, his face puce with indignation.

‘He’s over in Mysteries, trying to stuff a load of Agatha Christies down his trousers. Quick!’

Euww. Dropping the book in her hand, Lola raced across the shop floor in Tim’s slipstream, dodging customers and cursing shoplifters. Poor Agatha, what a grim thing to happen. She definitely didn’t deserve this.

Chapter 15

‘Where to, mate?’

‘Airport,’ said Gabe.

He sat back in the air-conditioned cab and didn’t glance up at the window of Jaydena’s apartment as the driver pulled away from the kerb.

That was it then. So much for happy ever after. Happy ever after, in fact, had disappeared right down the toilet.

How had he, of all people, managed to get it so wrong?

‘It’s not your fault.’ Tears had been streaming down Jaydena’s face last night as she finally came clean. ‘You’re a fantastic guy, really you are.’

I know, thought Gabe.

‘And I’m so sorry, it’s just that it never occurred to me that Paul would change his mind and want me back. But he’s, like, the big love of my life, the one I could never forget. Oh Gabe, this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Can you understand that? I don’t want to hurt you, but there’s no other way.’

It was almost a relief, on one level, figuring out at last why Jaydena had been as jumpy as a cat on a hotplate ever since he’d arrived last night.

On the other hand, discovering the truth still hurt like hell. ‘You slept with me.’ Gabe frowned.

‘We had sex. If you and this guy are back together, why would you do that?’

‘Oh God, because I felt so terrible,’ Jaydena wailed. ‘You flew all this way.’

He looked at her. ‘And that was my consolation prize? Thanks a lot.’

‘I already said I’m sorry!’

‘Fine’ Gabe turned away; the last thing he was going to do was beg. ‘I’m just saying you could have told me before I left London.’

‘I know, but I couldn’t, I had to wait for Paul to make up his mind and by the time he did, you were already on the plane.’

‘Thoughtful of him.’ In return, Gabe imagined taking Paul along for a day trip to a crocodile farm. Preferably bound and gagged.

‘Look, I know it’s not ideal,’ Jaydena pleaded. ‘But it’s better that we do this now than next week or the week after.’

She’d sobbed some more after that, and apologised some more, and even ended up offering to sleep with Gabe one last time by way of making things up to him. ‘So you have some kind of, like, closure, y’know?’

‘No thanks.’ He marvelled at his own idiocy; this was the girl for whom he’d given up his home, his job, his London life. And here she was, offering him a pity shag.

‘Sure? I don’t mind. Paul wouldn’t either: said Jaydena. ‘I already asked and he said it’s fine by him.’

What a hero. Gabe envisaged the feeding frenzy when he dropped Paul head first into the pool of crocodiles. ‘That’s very generous of him, but it’s still a no. I’ll use your computer, if that’s OK, and get onto the airline.’

‘Absolutely. Help yourself.’ Nodding vigorously Jaydena said, ‘Feel free.’

He’d managed to book a flight, then checked his emails. There was one from Lola saying, ‘Hey, how’s it going? Why haven’t you been in touch yet? OK, maybe I can guess why — too busy doing other stuff with Jaydena. Text me when you have a few seconds to spare, you big tart. And remember, there’s more to life than sex!’

Gabe paused. If only she knew There was no point emailing Lola now; he didn’t have the words.

Anyhow, she’d find out soon enough.

It hadn’t been the easiest of nights. Gabe had slept fitfully on the sofa in Jaydena’s living room and been up by six. The sensible part of him felt that after coming all this way he should stay on in Australia, for a while at least, to experience the lifestyle and the weather, see the sights and generally make the trip worthwhile.

The other pissed-off part of him just wanted to get the hell out of the damn place, put some serious distance between himself and Jaydena and head back home.

As the taxi made its way across Sydney towards the airport, he gazed out at the glittering ocean, the paintbox-blue sky and the scantily clad blondes on their way to the beach. Keen though he was to escape the country, it occurred to Gabe that when he reached London he’d barely have any proof that he’d even been here. Reaching over and unzipping the front compartment of his rucksack, he pulled out his digital camera and began taking photographs out of the window.

‘Good holiday, mate?’

It wasn’t the taxi guy’s fault that his life had just taken a nosedive. Snapping a picture of a girl in a raspberry-pink bikinicycling along with a terrier on a lead in tow, Gabe said, ‘Great, thanks.’

‘Ah, it’s a beautiful place, mate. Nowhere else like it. Bin here long?’

‘Not too long. But you’re right, it’s a beautiful country.’

‘The best.’ The driver nodded with pride then pointed to the service station up ahead. ‘OK if I pull in for a couple of minutes or are you in a rush to get there?’

‘No rush at all.’ Gabe’s flight wasn’t leaving for another five hours; he’d just been keen to get out of the flat. ‘Do what you want.’ Everyone else does.

The man drove into the service station, parked up next to the car wash and disappeared inside the shop. Gabe, in the back of the cab, scrolled through the half-dozen or so photos he’d taken and deleted one that was blurred because they’d been driving over a bump at the time. He glanced up as a slender brunette emerged from another parked car and made her way around the corner of the building. For a split second Gabe thought she seemed familiar, before remembering he was in Sydney, Australia. It wasn’t like bumping into someone you knew in the supermarket back home.

Moments later his head jerked up again as another figure, male this time, emerged from a second car and headed in the same direction as the brunette.

Gabe frowned. Wasn’t that ... ? No, it couldn’t be.

But as the man moved out of sight, curiosity got the better of Gabe. Opening the rear door of the cab, he climbed out. Ninety degrees of heat hit him in the face. Mystified, Gabe reached the side of the whitewashed building and saw .. . blimey ... that he hadn’t been mistaken after all. Except no wonder he hadn’t twigged at first; it wasn’t every day you saw two members of Hollywood’s A-list sneaking off down a narrow alley behind a service station in order to kiss each other senseless.

Unless it was for a movie and they were being paid millions of dollars to do it.

Which certainly wasn’t the case here. This time they were doing it for free.

Click. Gabe hadn’t even planned on taking their photo; somehow, the camera in his hand came up and there they were in the frame, so completely wrapped up in each other that they neither saw him nor heard the shutter close. Gabe took another photo, this time getting a clear shot of the girl’s face. Then, realising what he was doing – God, what was he, some kind of snooper? – he turned and hurried back to the cab.

‘All right there?’The taxi driver emerged from the shop with a bottle of iced water and a bag of toffees.

‘Fine.’

‘Off we go, then.’

As they waited to pull out onto the main road, the male half of the couple emerged from the alley. Tom Dutton, Oscar-winning actor, wearing faded denims and a red checked shirt. His long blond hair flopped over his forehead as he loped back to his car. Simply because it would thrill Lola, who had dragged him along to the cinema last summer and noisily sobbed her way through the weepy that had been Tom Dutton’s most recent film, Gabe raised his camera and took one last photo.

Personally he’d thought the film was crap.•

Chapter 16

Lola wasn’t averse to a bit of untidiness but stepping into Gabe’s flat was something of an eye-opener. The initial impression was of utter chaos, Selfridges Christmas department mixed with a charity shop the morning after an all-night party.

‘Hi there, I was wondering if you had any black shoe polish—whoops.’ Lola just managed to avoid stepping on a triangle of pepperoni pizza lying on an open copy of Heat. Something told her she wasn’t going to be in luck. Most of Sally’s clothes appeared to be strewn across the floor, along with a couple of damp bath towels. Just as well Gabe wasn’t here to see this.

‘I do, I do!’ Sally gaily dropped her apple core onto Gabe’s formerly pristine glass-topped coffee table and pressed her fingers, psychic-style, to her temples. ‘Hmm, shoe polishes, shoe polishes.

They’re here somewhere ... I remember taking them out of a case and putting them ... ooh, I know! On the window sill in the kitchen!’

Where else? Following Sally into the kitchen, Lola saw a whole range of shoe polishes flung into a pink and gold flowerpot along with a Nicky Clarke hairspray, a zebra print alarm clock, a bag of satsumas and a skipping rope.

‘Brilliant. I’ll only be a couple of seconds! Holding her favourite black stilettos, Lola squeezed liquid polish onto the toes. Instant magic. The scuffs disappeared and she recapped the tube.

‘Shall I put this out of the way in the cupboard under the sink?’

‘No need. I like things where I can see them.’ Surveying her in her dressing gown, Sally said,

‘Off out somewhere nice?’

‘Wine bar in Soho. Works Christmas party.’ Lola pulled a face. ‘Fancy dress.’

‘Ooh, I love fancy dress! What are you going as?’

‘A Playboy Bunny. Don’t laugh,’ said Lola. ‘Everyone had to put an idea into the hat and I drew the short straw. Tim from work has gone over to the fancy dress hire place to pick everything up.

He’ll be here any minute with my costume?

‘At least it’s sexy. I always wanted to be a Playboy Bunny when I grew up. But Mum said over her dead body. Oh well,’ Sally said cheerfully, ‘you’ll have to come and give me a twirl before you leave.’

’Blimey.’ Coming face to face with Tim on her doorstep, lugging an enormous zip-up carrying case, Lola said, ‘That can’t all be for me.’

Her outfit was a skimpy affair, surely. Black satin swimsuit thing, white fluffy tail and a pair of ears. How much space could that take up?

‘Been a bit of a mix-up.’ Tim looked embarrassed. ‘What kind of a mix-up?’

His cheeks flamed. ‘When I ordered a Bunny outfit they thought I meant ... well, a bunny bunny!

‘You mean ... ? Oh God, let me see.’ Lola unzipped the carrying case and was confronted by a full-size rabbit suit made of white nylon fur. ‘I have to wear this?’

‘Sorry,’ Tim said miserably.

She pulled out the suit and gave herself a static shock. On the bright side, she wouldn’t need to spend the evening holding her stomach in.

On the less bright side, what a waste of polishing her shoes. She was destined to spend the night with her feet encased in giant furry white rabbit’s paws.

‘I’m going to get hot in there.’ The nylon fur crackled and gave Lola another zip of static as she stroked it.

‘You can swap costumes with me if you want to,’ said Tim. The ‘if you want to’ part didn’t fill her with optimism. ‘Why, what’s yours?’

‘Well, I was going to be a gladiator. Kind of like Russell Crowe. But the breastplate snapped and they couldn’t let me have it!

‘So you’re not a gladiator. Instead you’re ... ?’

Tim mumbled, ‘Barney the Dinosaur?

Lola sighed. ‘Thanks, but I’ll stay with the rabbit. Purple was never my colour!

‘You’re all pink!’ Cheryl, looking glamorous and suitably exotic in her hula skirt, danced up to Lola.

All pink. Fancy that.

‘Imagine how hot it feels, being trapped inside an all-in-one bunny suit.’ Lola reached for a bottle of ice-cold water. ‘Then double it. Actually,’ she paused and glugged down several mouthfuls of the water, ‘quadruple it.’

The DJ started to play ‘Last Christmas’ by Wham!, causing a stampede (why? why?) onto the dance floor.

‘Fancy a dance?’ said Cheryl, shimmying her hips. ‘Not really, no.’

‘Couldn’t you take the bunny suit off now?’ Cheryl tilted her head sympathetically to one side.

‘I could, if I’d thought to bring a change of clothes with me.’ Huffing her damp fringe out of her eyes, Lola couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to her. But beneath the nylon fur she was scantily clad and jolly though the crowd at Bernini’s were, she didn’t feel they were ready to witness her in her pink and green polka-dotty knickers and matching balcony bra.

Mind you, it was a salutary experience dressing up like a rabbit. Until tonight she hadn’t realised how nice it was to be paid attention by members of the opposite sex. Being eyed up was something she’d pretty much taken for granted.

‘You know, I feel as if I’m wearing an invisibility cloak,’ said Lola. ‘Nobody’s looking at me.’

‘Oh, that’s not true.’ Cheryl did her best to sound convincing.

‘It is.’ Lola could see the gaze of men sliding over her without pausing in their search for an attractive girl to flirt with.Tonight, she couldn’t help noticing, the attractive girl was Cheryl in her undulating hula skirt.

‘Look.’ Eager to help, Cheryl pointed across the dance floor. ‘Those people over there are looking at you.’

‘They’re laughing.That’s different.They’re pretending to clean their whiskers and lick their paws.’ Lola took another swig of water. ‘I don’t mind. I’m just saying. Actually, those celebrities who whinge and moan about being pestered every time they go out could do a lot worse than get themselves a nice bunny suit.’

‘Hey, at least you aren’t Barney the Dinosaur.’

Poor old Tim, his outfit was even hotter and heavier than her own. Lola watched him attempting to dance like George Michael when he was still straight, wincing as his dinosaur tailswung lethally from side to side. Helen, dressed as Cleopatra, was gamely bopping around with Batman, aka Darren, who had legs like string beans. In the far corner of the dance floor a group of Hogwarts students with black bin-bag cloaks were climbing onto their broomsticks

‘I can see someone looking at you.’ Cheryl gave her a nudge. Lola didn’t get her hopes up.

‘Where?’

‘Over there, just cone in.’ Cheryl nodded at the door. ‘The one in the blue shirt, see him yet? He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he got here. Actually ...’ Her voice trailed off as she peered more closely at the new arrival. ‘He looks familiar. Where have I seen him before? Ooh, and now he’s coming over!’

Lola surveyed him, glad she hadn’t got her hopes up. ‘He’s one of our customers.’

‘God, you’re right, it is. Did we invite customers along tonight?’

‘No.’ Mystified, Lola watched the man who wasn’t a private detective. When he reached them she noticed that the usual easy smile was tinged with something else, possibly nerves.

‘Hi.’ As she nodded in recognition, one of the bunny ears flopped down into her field of vision, which didn’t help.

‘Hi there. I wasn’t sure at first if it was you.’ The smile became a grin. ‘Nice outfit.’

‘Thanks.’ Lola paused as Cheryl melted tactfully away into the crowd. ‘So is this a coincidence, you turning up here tonight?’

‘No, it isn’t. When I was in the shop yesterday I heard your friend talking about the party here tonight.’

At least he was honest. ‘So are you a stalker?’

Another pause. Finally he shook his head. ‘Not really. I mean, I suppose so, kind of. But for a reason. Not in a creepy way, I promise.’

That was the thing, he just didn’t seem creepy. ‘Well, good,’ said Lola, indicating Darren on the dance floor, ‘because otherwise I’d have to set Batman onto you.’

The corners of the man’s eyes creased with amusement but beneath the surface he was still on edge. ‘Look, is there anywhere we could talk?’

‘About what?’

‘Something important. Sorry, I know this place isn’t ideal, but I didn’t want to do it at the bookshop. There’s a free table over there in the corner.’ As he steered Lola gently towards it, he eyed the empty bottle of water in her hand. ‘Can I get you another drink? Maybe a ... carrot juice?’

Lola stopped, gave him a look.

He raised his hands. ‘OK, sorry, sorry. I can’t believe I said that.’

‘I can’t believe it either. So far this evening eleven people have asked me if I’d like a carrot juice. Eight have asked me if I’d like some lettuce. Four have made hilarious jokes about popping out of a magician’s hat. Honestly, this place is just one huge comedy club bursting with Billy Connollys.’

‘Sorry, I’m usually a bit more original than that. Put it down to nerves.’

They reached the table. The man pulled out a chair for Lola then sat down himself.

‘Why are you nervous?’ Her right ear was falling over her eye again; impatiently Lola tossed it out of the way. ‘Sure I can’t get you a drink?’

‘I’d rather know what all this is about.’

Wham! finished playing and was replaced — surprise surprise — by Slade belting out ‘Merry Christmas Everybody’. Noddy Holder’s cheese-grater voice vibrated off the walls and everyoneon the dance floor punched the air, pogo-ing madly and singing along not quite in time with the music. Having watched them for a few seconds, Lola turned her attention back to the man and said, ‘Still waiting.’

In the dim lighting of this corner of the bar his expression was unreadable. ‘Twentieth of May?’

Something squeezed tight in Lola’s chest. ‘That’s my birthday’

He sat back, exhaled, pushed his fingers through his dark hair then half smiled. ‘In that case you’re definitely my daughter.’

The furry white nylon ear flopped once more over Lola’s face. Little stars danced in her field of vision as she fumbled with the Velcro fastening her costume at the neck. But her fingers couldn’t manage it and heat was spreading inexorably through her body. Finally she managed to say,

‘Please, could you help me take my head off? I’m feeling a bit ... um, faint.’

Chapter 17

One minute you were in a wine bar more or less blending in with the twenty-two other people cavorting around in fancy dress, the next minute you were sitting in an all-night café with a mug of hot tea, attracting all manner of smirks and funny looks from everyone else in the place.

Lola still couldn’t assimilate what had happened; her brain had stubbornly refused to believe what he was telling her. Apart from anything else, this man wasn’t even American.Yet ... why would he be here doing this if it weren’t true?

‘Sorry.’ The man sitting opposite her said it for the third time. ‘I knew it was going to be a shock but I couldn’t think of any way of saying it that wouldn’t be.’

‘That’s OK.’ At least it was cooler in here. The urge to pass out had receded. Her head was still spinning but out of shock rather than syncope. ‘You can’t imagine how unexpected this is.’

He did that rueful semi-smile again. ‘For me too.’

Lola sipped her tea, burning her mouth but appreciating the sugar rush. ‘So you’re ... Steve?’

The semi-smile abruptly disappeared. ‘No. That’s not me.’

So. Not American, not called Steve. Something wasn’t right here. But he seemed so genuine, so convinced .. .

‘What’s your name then?’

What’s your name? What a question.

‘Nick. Nick James.’ Shaking his head, he said, ‘I can’t believe your mother didn’t tell you that.’

‘Tull, that’s nothing! She told me you were from New York.’ She looked at him suspiciously.

‘Are you?’ Was he, perhaps, pretending to be British?

His eyebrows went up. ‘What else did she say?’

‘Oh God.’ Lola almost dropped her cup. ‘Your eyebrows. That’s just how mine go when I’m surprised ...’ Tea slopped onto the table as her trembling increased, because the similarity was almost uncanny. ‘You’ve got my eyebrows!’

‘Actually, you’ve got mine,’ Nick James pointed out. ‘That’s incredible! And we have dark hair.’

‘You have your mother’s eyes and freckles.’

‘But not her hair. Before you saw me, did you think I’d be a redhead?’

He shook his head. ‘I knew you weren’t. I visited you once, when you were a baby!

Lola felt as if.. all the air had been squeezed from her lungs. ‘You did?’

‘Oh yes. Briefly.’ He smiled. ‘You were beautiful. Seeing you for the first time ... well, it was incredible.’