Chapter 1

‘She’s never going to be tidy,’ Lola warned.

‘We’re going to hire a cleaner.’ Sally was glowing with happiness.

Gabe grinned. ‘Isn’t it great?’

What choice did she have? If it worked out, of course it was great. Lola knew she should be thrilled for them and on one level she was. But at the same time, and she was deeply ashamed to have to admit it even to herself, there was that niggling worry that the balance of the relationship between the three of them was about to tip. Before, the triangle had been more or less equal.

Now it was changing shape, lengthening, drawing two of the points closer together and distancing the third. She was going to feel left out and unwanted and — oh God — lonely .. .

‘Are you worried that we won’t have time for you any more?’ Effortlessly reading her mind, Gabe let go of Sally and gave Lola a reassuring hug. ‘There’s no need, we won’t abandon you.’

‘Don’t be daft, of course I wasn’t worried. We’re all grownups.’ Lola submitted happily to the hug; how could she have thought everything wouldn’t be fine? ‘Ooh, that reminds me, I just saw a sign outside the King’s Head — that comedian you love is doing a show there on Saturday night. Johnny thingummy? I thought we could all go.’

She felt Gabe hesitate. Sally exclaimed, ‘Oh, what a shame, we’d have loved to, but ...’ She pulled a face and looked over at Gabe to help her out, as if Lola were a child asking how babies got made.

‘The thing is, we kind of decided to fly over to Dublin,’ saidGabe. ‘And we can’t really cancel now that the plane tickets have been booked.’

‘And the hotel.’ Sally shrugged apologetically.

Gabe said, ‘But how about if we book another ticket? Then you can come along too.’

Z000uuuup, that was the sound of the triangle lengthening, like Pinocchio’s nose. OK, it hadn’t really made a noise but they all knew it was there.

‘Thanks,’ Lola shook her head, ‘but I’ll be fine.’

Of course she would. It didn’t matter. She was happy for them, she really was. At the moment Gabe and Sally were besotted with each other but after a while the icky-yicky loveydoveyness would wear off and they’d slide back to normality.

‘You can at least stay for dinner.’ Gabe was presuasive, eager to make amends. I’m doing a cannelloni.’

Lola smiled, because the last thing they really wanted was a gooseberry sitting at the table. It’s OK, I’ve just eaten. And I’m shattered — all I really want is a shower and an early night.’

Which was probably top of their agenda too.

The following evening Nick came round to Lola’s flat after work. She was just telling him about Gabe and Sally when there was a tap at the door.

‘Hi, come in.’ Nick, answering it because he was closest, grinned at Sally and said,’Congratulations, I’ve just been hearing your news.’

‘Th-thanks.’ Sally tucked her hair behind her ears and looked flustered. ‘Um, Lola, about this weekend.’

‘Is something wrong?’ Had their flights been cancelled after all? Sally shook her head. ‘No, no, it’s just that I thought you might be at a bit of a loose end and Doug just called. His company’s taken a table at another of those charity dinners and he wanted to know if we’d like to go along.

Of course we can’t make it because we’ll be in Dublin, but I wondered if you’d be interested.’

Sally looked pleased with herself, as if presenting the answer to a single girl’s prayers and solving Lola’s abandonment issues in one fell swoop.

Lola shook her head, funnily enough not even remotely tempted. Being at a bit of a loose end was one thing, but was any end really that loose? ‘No thanks.’

‘Oh, go on. It’s at the Savoy! On Saturday night!’ Sally’s eyes were bright, her tone cajoling.

‘And there isn’t a quiz this time, so you don’t have to worry about showing yourself up.’

Up until a few weeks ago, Lola knew, she would have leapt at the chance to spend an evening in the same room as Dougie. Just breathing the same air and being able to gaze adoringly at him across the dinner table would have been enough.

But that had been then, when she’d still had hope, and this was now. Besides, Dougie would be there with Isabel doing the adoring bit at his side, leaving her, Lola, stuck at the far end of the table with the unfriendly know-alls who didn’t see why they should waste their time being polite to the brainless bigmouth who’d messed up the question about George Eliot and single-handedly lost them the New Year’s Eve quiz.

Phew, when you put it like that .. .

‘Well?’ Sally was still doing her bright-eyed persuasive thing. ‘Wouldn’t it be fun?’

‘I don’t think it would be much fun at all. In fact I’d rather boil my own head.’

At Stansted airport on Friday evening Sally walked straight past W. H. Smith.

‘Are you ill?’ said Gabe.

‘Why?’

‘You didn’t go in.’ He waved an arm at the lit-up, colourful displays.

‘There’s nothing I need.’ She held up her bottle of water, patted her lilac leather handbag.

‘But ... you haven’t got any magazines.’

‘You noticed.’ Sally looked pleased. ‘I decided I was reading too many. It’s time to stop.’

Proudly she said, ‘I’m going cold turkey.’

Gabe kissed her. ‘What will you do on the plane?’

Sally grinned and kissed him back. ‘Thought we might join the mile-high club.’

But when they boarded the flight there were loads of nuns on the plane, which acted as a bit of a contraceptive. Instead, as they flew over the Irish Sea, Gabe found his attention caught by the magazine being read by a middle-aged woman sitting further up the plane. For a split second as she’d opened the magazine he thought he’d glimpsed a photograph that ... except no, it couldn’t be.

Frustratingly the woman was now engrossed in an article about celebs with cellulite and wasn’t allowing him to get another look at the photo on the cover.

‘Who are you ogling?’ Sally’s nudge almost sent Gabe tumbling into the aisle.

He pointed. ‘No one. Just trying to see what that woman’s reading.’

‘Hey, I’m the addict around here. Thanks for being so helpful.’ Leaning past him, Sally peered along the aisle. ‘It’s about cellulite. One of those things where they show you photos of people’s legs and bottoms then point out the dodgy bits with whopping great arrows in case we’re too stupid to know what we’re meant to be looking at.’

‘OK’

Proudly — and loudly — Sally whispered,’I don’t have cellulite.’ God, he loved her so much.

Gabe gave her knee a squeeze. ‘I know.’

Thirty minutes later, as they were queuing to get off the plane, Gabe reached down to pick up the abandoned magazine.

‘Ga-abe, you’re worse than me,’ Sally protested behind him. ‘Put it down and step away from the magazine. I can’t believe you’re doing this. You never used to be interested.’

‘I just want to know who took one of the photos.’ He turned over the magazine and saw with a jolt that he hadn’t been mistaken. There on the cover, staring up at him, was Savannah.

More to the point, it was one of the photographs he had taken of her. Bald and proud, smiling bravely. No Hair, No Shame! announced the headline, above the quote: ‘This is me, take me or leave me.’

‘Oh my God: Sally let out a shriek of disbelief. ‘That’s Savannah Hudson! What happened to her hair?’ She seized the magazine and flicked through it until she found the article inside. ‘She’s had alopecia for ages and was too ashamed to admit it!’ Skimming the page at the speed of light she said breathlessly, ‘She’s been wearing a wig for almost two years and no one ever guessed.

She felt ugly and thought people would laugh at her ... oh bless! ... then she met someone who gave her the confidence to ... oops, sorry.’

The queue was moving. Sally was being jostled along the aisle by an impatient nun. Gabe, his heart quickening, said, ‘Does it say who?’

‘Hmm? Um ... no, no name, she’s being discreet. Probably one of the actors from her last film.’

There was a rustle of pages behind him, then Sally said suddenly, ‘Bloody hell!’

He braced himself. ‘What?’

‘I don’t believe it!’

They’d reached the front of the plane; it was time to smile and thank the air hostess before disembarking via the metal staircase. The lively Irish wind was busy riffling the pages of the magazine and plastering Sally’s hair to her freshly applied lipstick, but Gabe knew she was still bursting to share her startling discovery. Savannah must have given the game away. Aloud he said, ‘You don’t believe what?’

Sally clattered down the steps, leaning on her stick and shaking her head incredulously.

‘Savannah Hudson’s hair. Not her real hair, obviously, because she hasn’t got any. But that blond wig she’s been wearing. It cost seven thousand pounds!’

Savannah hadn’t given the game away. When they reached baggage reclaim Gabe read through the article himself.

‘Why are you so interested?’ Sally rested her head against his shoulder.

‘I snapped her a while back, at a premiere in Leicester Square. Just wondered who’d done the photo session.’ His name hadn’t been printed; there was no byline. But pride still surged up because these were his photographs. And they looked great.

‘Oh sweetie, someone a bit more famous than you.’ Sally gave him a consoling hug. ‘Never mind, maybe one day you’ll be doing proper photos too.’

Gabe half smiled, because there was no point in taking offence. It was the truth; half the people he photographed were prepared to tolerate him briefly, to spare him a few seconds as they emerged from a restaurant or paused on their way along the red carpet. The other half covered their faces or ran off in the opposite direction the moment they clapped eyes on him. It was fantastic that Savannah had used the photos he’d taken of her, but disappointing that she couldn’t have given him the credit. Especially as she had promised he could be the one to take the shots of her big ‘reveal’.

Gabe shrugged. Oh well, that was life. He’d hurt her feelings; what did he expect?

‘It’s so brave of her,’ Sally was still gazing at the photo. ‘I mean, she’s Savannah Hudson. Poor thing, she looked amazing with hair. It must be awful to lose it.’

Gabe felt compelled to defend her. ‘She still looks good.’

‘Pretty good,’ Sally conceded, tilting her head as she traced the outline of Savannah’s ears. ‘But you have to admit, these stick out a bit. A drop of Superglue might have helped. She does look a bit like a wing nut.’

Chapter 53

Nick stood by the mirrored doors at the entrance to the Savoy’s Lancaster Ballroom. Everyone had enjoyed an excellent dinner and the babble of voices was deafening. Scanning the room, he spotted Doug Tennant at one of the circular tables close to the stage. Presumably those around him were the work colleagues who had given Lola such a hard time on New Year’s Eve.

Nick weighed up the situation. Should he be doing what he was about to do?

Sod it, why not?

Doug was leaning to one side, laughing at something the girl next to him had just said, when he saw Nick making his way towards the table. Recognising him at once, Doug straightened and said, ‘Hello there. On your own tonight?’

‘Yes.’

Doug raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. ‘Don’t tell me your daughter’s got you following me now’

‘Is that what you think? Not at all,’ said Nick. ‘She doesn’t even know I’m here.’The blonde girl at his side must be Isabel; oh well, couldn’t be helped. Keeping his tone light, he went on,

‘Anyway, she’s given up on you. You had your chance and you blew it. It’s your loss. I just hope you don’t live to regret it.’

‘Excuse me.’ An older woman who’d only just begun paying attention put down her wine glass and demanded, ‘What’s going on? Who is this man?’

‘My name’s Nick James.’ If this was one of Doug’s employees she was knocking on a bit. ‘My daughter knows Doug. I just came over to say hello, and to tell him that in my view he’s made a big mistake. Sorry,’ Nick added, addressing the girl at Doug’s side, ‘but it’s something that needed to be said. I can’t help myself; I think she’s had a rum deal.’

‘Doug?’ The older woman was sitting there, stiff-backed like a judge, clearly dissatisfied with the answer. ‘Who’s this person talking about?’

Doug said flatly, ‘Lola.’

‘What? Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ The woman stared at Nick in disbelief. ‘You’re the father?’

Instantly Nick realised his mistake. ‘I am. And you’re Doug’s mother. How very nice to meet you at last.’

They both knew he didn’t mean it. Adele Nicholson looked as if she’d swallowed a pickled chilli. ‘And you seriously think my son made a mistake?’

Nick flashed her his most charming smile. ‘I do.’

‘The only mistake he made was getting himself involved with your daughter in the first place,’

Adele flashed back. ‘Do you know what that girl did to him?’

‘Yes, I know exactly what she did. And she made a mistake too, I’m not denying that. But she had her reasons. My point is, we all make mistakes,’ said Nick, ‘but there’s such a thing as forgiveness. I made a huge mistake twenty-eight years ago, but Lola’s forgiven me. So has her mother. And we’re all heretonight for the same reason. To help. people who’ve made mistakes.’

Noting the look of incomprehension on Adele’s carefully made-up face he picked up one of the glossy embossed programmes from the table. ‘This is a charity dinner in aid of the Prince’s Trust. Some of the money raised this evening will go to help former prisoners who are being rehabilitated into the community.’

Adele clearly hadn’t thought this through, had only come tonight because of the royal connection. She now looked as if she’d swallowed a frog.

‘Anyway, lecture over. It seems that some people are more easily forgiven than others. I’ll leave you in peace.’ Nick looked at Doug. ‘As I’ve already said, Lola’s accepted that you aren’t interested and she’s moving on. Personally, I still think you’re making a mistake. I may not have known Lola for long but she’s an amazing girl, loyal and generous, one of a kind. And I’m proud to be her father.’ He paused then said evenly, ‘One last thing. I wonder if you’ve ever asked yourself why she needed that money?’

Nobody spoke. Up on the stage the MC was preparing to introduce the band.

Nick nodded fractionally at Doug. ‘I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of the evening. Bye.’

He was upstairs in the bar when Doug appeared beside him twenty minutes later.

‘I thought you’d left,’ said Doug.

‘Just had to get away from that bloody awful music. Not my thing.’ Nick signalled to the barman. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

‘Scotch and water. Thanks. I was rude earlier,’ Doug dipped his head, ‘and I apologise. I shouldn’t have made that remark about Lola sending you here to follow me. That was below the belt.’

‘Look,’ said Nick, ‘I love my daughter to bits, but I can admit that she’s done her fair share of chasing after you. Up until a few weeks ago she might well have tried that trick. But it’s over now.’ He paused, paid for the drinks and said, ‘I’m sorry too. It probably wasn’t very sensitive of me to say all that stuff in front of everyone.’

Doug smiled slightly, shrugged it off. ‘Never mind. It’s this business with the money that I’m interested in.’

Thought you might be.

‘Did you ever ask Lola why she took it?’ said Nick.

‘Of course I did. She said she couldn’t tell me.’ Doug waited, took a sip of his drink, then said with a trace of impatience, ‘Well? I’m assuming she told you.’

‘No. I asked her but there was no way of getting it out of her. She said she was sorry, but she could never tell me.’

‘Same here.’ Doug looked disappointed; he’d clearly thought he’d been about to find out the truth.

‘Sorry. But something interesting happened last week. You know Lola never ever wanted her mother to find out about the money thing?’ Nick waited for Doug to nod before proceeding.

‘Well, Blythe did find out about it.You can imagine how shocked she was. She even called me to tell me about it. She couldn’t believe Lola had done such a terrible thing to you.’

‘And?’ Doug was gazing at him intently.

After a pause, Nick said, ‘Blythe asked Lola what she’d spent the money on and Lola told her. A fancy Jeep, apparently. Which was stolen a week later. She hadn’t insured it, so that was it, the money was gone.’

‘Really? A Jeep?’ Doug frowned.

‘That’s the story.’ Nick held his gaze for a long moment before knocking back his Scotch in one go. ‘Think about it,’he added, ready to leave and wondering if Doug Tennant was smart enough

— surely — and cared enough — hopefully — to work it out. ‘Then ask yourself whether you think the story Lola told her mother was the truth.’

Chapter 54

Going cold turkey was proving harder than Sally had imagined. This was a magazine habit they were talking about, after all, not crack cocaine.

Oh, but she had a long-standing habit to kick and she badly missed turning those glossy, exciting-smelling, brand new pages. She was doing her best to keep herself entertained instead with a copy of Pride and Prejudice lent to her by Lola but it just wasn’t doing the trick.Apart from anything else the pages weren’t glossy and there was no mention in it anywhere of Coronation Street. What’s more, the print was so tiny she had to screw up her eyes to read it, which made her realise she was probably on the verge of needing reading glasses which in turn made her feel old.

‘Oh shut up,’ Sally wailed at the TV as an advert for the latest edition of Heat came on.

Chucking Pride and Prejudice at the screen only caused the craving to intensify She tried changing channels and folding her arms. Oh yes, great help. OK, but how about if she didn’t buy a new magazine, just had a little look through an old one instead? That would take the edge off the cravings, wouldn’t it? Except she’dhave to contain herself until she got to work and nabbed one of the tatty old germ-laden cast-offs in the waiting room and she wasn’t working this afternoon ... oh now, hang on, unless there were still a couple lurking around here somewhere that had managed to escape the cull .. .

A light bulb went on inside Sally’s head and she launched herself off the sofa. Because the sofa was the answer! In the bad old days when she’d been forced to tidy up at a moment’s notice, as much excess mess as humanly possible had been squashed into that narrow space between sofa and carpet. Furthermore, because out of sight was completely out of mind, it had never occurred to her to clear the stuff out.

And thank goodness for that! On her hands and knees Sally peered into the dark gap and saw shoes, empty crisp packets, plates, socks, one of her all-time favourite devoré velvet scarves —

yay! — and, oh joy, a scrumpled-up magazine. She reached under the sofa for it, stretching her fingers to the limit

‘What are you doing?’

Sally paused, bottom up in the air. ‘Just looking for my pink scarf.’ She dragged it out, said triumphantly, ‘And here it is! Why, what are you doing?’

‘Admiring the view’ Gabe grinned and gave her bottom a pat. ‘I’m off for a shower, got an appointment with a Page Three girl in Hyde Park.’

‘Lucky you. Will she be naked?’

‘Clothes on. Her agent set it up; it’s for a snatch pose. Which is not what it sounds like.’ He gave her a look as she started to snigger. ‘It means you use a long lens and make the shots look as if they’ve been snatched from a distance. The girl’s going to have a huge fight with her boyfriend at eleven o’clock on the bridge over the Serpentine. If it rains, we’ll shoot it in the café.’

Sally smiled and watched Gabe disappear into the bathroom. The moment the door closed behind him she was burrowing back under the sofa for the magazine ... reeeeach ... oh dear, was this the equivalent of someone who’s given up cigarettes scrabbling about in the gutter for somebody else’s abandoned dog end?

She fell on the magazine with a cry of relief. Dog-eared and battered it may be, but it was only a few weeks old. Still kneeling on the floor, Sally lovingly turned the pages.There was an interview with Nicole Kidman about her latest film. Kate Moss was wearing purple micro shorts and pink polka-dotted Wellingtons — as you do — as she shopped in Knightsbridge. Leonardo di Caprio was photographed playing volleyball on the beach, here was the montage of cellulite shots, there the snaps of unshaven armpits, the soapstars making holy shows of themselves at a party after an awards ceremony. OK, it wasn’t intellectual but it was entertaining and during her darker days she’d drawn huge comfort from knowing that even super-glamorous celebrities could have disastrous love lives too. Not that this applied to her now, ta dah, she no longer needed to surround herself with other people’s misery because she had Gabe and he was everything she’d ever— oh.

Sally’s stomach clenched with recognition as she turned a page and the envelope dropped out of the magazine into her lap. So that was what had happened to it during her fit of frenzied tidying the other week.

She put down the magazine and examined the envelope with Gabe’s name on it. In one way it was nice to have the mystery of its disappearance solved. But it also presented her with a dilemma because she’d never actually mentioned the letter to Gabe.

The temptation was to rip it to shreds and stuff it in thebottom of the kitchen bin. After first reading it, naturally. She knew it was from a female, and that around the time of its delivery Gabe had been in a seriously iffy mood. There was a distinct possibility that the non-arrival of the letter could have had something to do with that.

Tear it up.

Read it first.

No, just tear it up and throw it away, it’s better not to know. OK, stop, stop. Sally closed her eyes. She loved Gabe and that meant she had to be honest with him.

Fear beat like a bird inside her chest. Over the years, being honest hadn’t always come naturally to her. As she pushed open the bathroom door it crossed her mind that this could be the last time she saw his body naked. And she’d only just got to know it. Oh God, could she do this?

‘Gabe?’ She opened the shower cubicle an inch, experienced a little frisson of lust at the sight of him and said, ‘I’ve got something for you.’

Steam billowed out of the cubicle. Gabe turned, shampoo streaming down his face as he rinsed his hair. With a grin he opened the door wider and in one movement pulled her into the shower.The next moment she was minus her sodden dressing gown. ‘That’s a coincidence,’ he said playfully, ‘I’ve got something for you too.’

Honestly, what a wasted opportunity; if she’d taken the envelope in with her, the ink would have run and the letter would have been rendered illegible, neatly solving all her problems in one go.

Except she hadn’t thought of that, had she? Instead, like a complete durr-brain, she’d dropped it onto the tiled floor as Gabe was yanking her into the shower. And here it was, patiently waiting for them when they eventually emerged, twenty highly pleasurable minutes later.

‘OK, don’t be cross with me.’ Sally retrieved the envelope and handed it to him. ‘This arrived a couple of weeks ago, then it went missing. And that was your fault because you made me tidy the flat.’ She kissed him hard on the mouth. ‘I just found it under the sofa inside a magazine.’

Gabe, who found her self-imposed ban hilarious, said affectionately, ‘Not that you’d ever look inside one of those.’

‘I lapsed. I’m only human. Anyway, read your letter.’ Grabbing a white bath towel and wrapping it around herself, Sally hastily left the bathroom.

Mystified, Gabe shook back his hair then opened the envelope. The letter was handwritten in turquoise ink.

Dearest Gabe, I deleted your number from my phone to stop myself from becoming your nuisance caller, hence this letter.

Well, I’ve decided the time has come to show the world the real me. And I want to use the photos you took. Hope that’s OK with you. If you want me to give you the credit and a byline, get in touch. If I don’t hear from you I’ll be discreet and won’t use your name. I shall also donate the fee for the article and your photos to Alopecia UK.

All love Say Xxx

Gabe smiled and wondered how much money he’d missed out on. He could have used it to leave the papping life behind him and start afresh in a studio ... Oh well, never mind, toolate to worry about it now. The charity wouldn’t be too thrilled if he were to ring them and demand his share of the fee back. And in time he would set up on his own, specialising in portrait photography. At least Savannah had made the effort to contact him, which was good of her.

He was glad she’d thought of him.

Sally was outside the bathroom, waiting for him and visibly bracing herself. ‘Well?’

She’d probably had her ear pressed up against the door. ‘It’s fine. Nothing important.’

He saw her exhale. ‘Really? Oh thank God.You’re not cross that I didn’t tell you?’

Gabe shook his head. ‘No’

Sally hugged him. ‘Sorry. I love you.’ She leaned back, gazing into his eyes. ‘You’re sure it’s OK?’

‘I love you too.’ Kissing her, Gabe said, ‘And I’m sure. It was just someone wanting me to take a few photos of them. I’d probably have said no anyway.’

•

‘Girlie handwriting.’

‘That would be because it was written by a girl.’

‘Pretty?’

‘Yes.’

‘Girlfriend of yours?’ Sally ventured.

Had Savannah ever really been his girlfriend? Not if he was honest. Gabe shook his head. ‘No, just a friend. And I won’t be hearing from her again now.’

‘Well, good. Especially if she’s pretty.’ Sally eyed the letter folded in his hand. ‘Can I read it?’

‘Why? Don’t you trust me?’Then, when she hesitated, ‘Look, I know you’ve had a rotten time with men in the past, but I’m not like them.’

‘I know’

Gabe held up the letter. ‘Here, you can read it if you want.’ Sally visibly relaxed. ‘It’s OK. I don’t need to.You can throw it away.’

‘Trust me?’

‘I trust you.’

Gabe softened. Slowly but surely he would convince her that he’d never let her down, that she was the most important person in his life. Dropping the letter into the loo, he pulled the flush and said, ‘Good’

Lola was on the shop floor rebuilding a display of cookery books that had been casually demolished by a student’s backpack. As she balanced Delia on top of Jean-Christophe Novelli —

ha, it was all right for some — a woman with a bag-laden pushchair came racing into the shop.

Flustered and clearly in a state of panic she rushed up to Lola. ‘Excuse me, do you have a loo?’

The boy lolling in the pushchair glanced up at Lola, typical male, sublimely unconcerned by the problems he was causing. Feeling sorry for the woman — this was the joys of motherhood for you — Lola said, ‘Yes, over there to the left of the biographies, right at the back of the shop.’

The perspiring woman gasped, ‘Thanks so much,’ picked up the carton of fruit juice her son had just chucked to the ground and yanked the pushchair to the left. ‘Come on, Tom, let’s go.’

Before she could scoot him away, the little boy beamed up at Lola and said in a loud, conspiratorial voice, ‘Mummy’s got to do a big poo.’ Which hugely entertained everyone else in the vicinity. Sniggers abounded as the poor mortified woman scurried off. Normally an event like this would have made Lola’s day. Instead she carried on propping up books.

‘Are you all right?’ Cheryl arrived with another box of hardbacks to add to the display.

‘I think I need something to look forward to.’ Lola’s stomach rumbled as she said it. Checking her watch and realising it was twelve fifteen, she said impulsively, ‘Like a really nice lunch.

How about coming with me to Rossano’s? My treat.’

But Cheryl was already looking awkward and shaking her head. ‘Today? Sorry, can’t make it.

I’ve got an appointment.’

‘Oh.’ Why didn’t that sound believable — apart from the fact that Cheryl was the world’s most feeble liar?

‘Sorry! But some other time, definitely!’

Lola nodded. ‘Who’s your appointment with?’

‘Um ... a doctor.’

Well, how about that? Untruthfuller and untruthfuller. Lola looked concerned. ‘Are you ill?’

‘N-no.’

‘Pregnant?’

No!’

This was fascinating. Her assistant manager was by this time the colour of a plum.

‘I think I can guess,’ said Lola. ‘It’s Botox.’

Cheryl’s shoulders sagged with relief. ‘Yes, Botox.’

‘The time has come and you’re giving it a whirl.’

‘Well, you know’ Cheryl touched her forehead. ‘I’ve been getting a bit ... frowny lately.

Lola nodded. ‘I’ve noticed that too. Look, why don’t I come along and hold your hand?’

Cheryl said hurriedly, ‘Oh, there’s no need, it’s just a preliminary appointment to have a chat about it. I haven’t made my mind up quite yet.’

One o’clock arrived and there was only one thing for it.Lola left the shop first with a cheery,

‘Good Luck!’ and melted into the crowds of shoppers on the opposite side of the road. In all honesty, there was nothing like a spot of harmless sleuthing to cheer a girl up on a Tuesday lunchtime.

When Cheryl emerged from Kingsley’s five minutes later she turned left and headed up Regent Street at quite a pace. Lola tucked the collar of her black coat up around her neck, as all the good spies do, and followed at a discreet distance. Cheryl had re-done her make-up and taken her hair out of its ponytail. She was wearing a swingy white jacket over her red dress and the flat grey pumps she wore for work had been replaced with crimson high heels. She looked lovely.Any syringe-wielding medic would have been impressed. Relieved she hadn’t flagged down a cab, Lola stayed on her tail as she plunged down a side street. With fewer people around she’d be spotted if Cheryl looked back, might have to pretend to be engrossed in the eye-popping display

— yeek! — in the window of this Soho sex shop.

But Cheryl didn’t look back. She carried on heading deeper into Soho. Finally reaching Wardour Street, she paused outside a super-chic, green and silver-fronted restaurant. Lola hung back, watching with interest as she ran up the steps and disappeared inside.

Well, this was interesting. Cheryl was without question meeting a man and chances were that his interest in her wasn’t medical. (Why, Doctor, is that a Botox syringe in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?’) The big puzzle was, why was she being so evasive about it? OK, only one way to find out.

‘Good afternoon,’ said the charming blonde receptionist. ‘May I help you?’ The interior of the restaurant was pale green and silver, modern and expensive-looking and curvy

‘Hi there, I’m supposed to be meeting my friend,’ said Lola. ‘Her name’s Cheryl Dixon.’

‘I’m sorry, madam, we don’t have a booking in that name.’

‘I know, I’m so sorry, I can’t remember the name of the other person.’ Lola smiled, determined to out-charm the receptionist, and attempted to sneak a look at the list of names on the computer screen. ‘My friend just came in a minute ago, she’s wearing red stilettos.’

The receptionist swiftly swung the computer screen around so Lola couldn’t see it.

‘Sorry, madam, if you don’t have a booking ...’

‘Oh please, I have to see them, it’s urgent . .. her car’s being towed away ...’

The receptionist’s smile was now a thing of the past. ‘But that’s not actually true, is it?’

Blimey, what was this place, Fort Knox? The tables were situated in booths, which meant you couldn’t see who was seated at them. At this rate the restaurant had to be harbouring the Pope out on a hot date with Cilla Black.

‘OK, I need the loo,’ said Lola.

‘Madam, the cloakroom facilities are for customers only.’

Why was this girl being so obstructive? ‘Sorry, but I need the loo now. It’s an emergency.’ Lola gazed at her then raised her voice slightly. ‘I have to do a big poo’

She watched the receptionist wondering if she meant it. After a second — because what if she did? — the blonde pointed the way. ‘Over there, up the stairs and on the left.’

‘Thanks.’ Lola set off across the restaurant, peering into each booth as she passed and earning herself some odd looks along the way. No Pope so far. No Cheryl either.

Then she saw them. So wrapped up in each other theydidn’t even notice her standing there.

Stunned, Lola observed the giveaway body language going on between the two of them; if that wasn’t full-blown flirtation she didn’t know what was.

Hell’s bells, and she hadn’t even had the slightest inkling .. . On the other hand, thank God it wasn’t who she’d subconsciously been afraid it might be.

Cheryl spotted her first. Her face changed in an instant from lit up to oh fuck. She promptly knocked over her glass of wine.

‘Hi, Cheryl. I wouldn’t let him inject your frown lines if I were you. I’m not sure he’s a qualified doctor.’

‘You followed me!’ Cheryl bat-squeaked, the familiar flush crawling up her neck.

‘I had to. You wouldn’t tell me who you were seeing. Hello, Dad.’ Lola gave her father a hug. ‘I tried to ring you on Saturday night to see if you wanted to go to the cinema but your phone was switched off.’

‘Boring works do.’ Nick kissed her on the cheek then regarded her with concern. ‘Sorry about this. Are you upset?’

‘About you and Cheryl? God no, it’s fantastic! I just can’t believe it. How long has this been going on?’

‘A few weeks.’ Luckily the spilled wine was white; Nick used a pale green napkin to mop it up.

‘So that’s why you’ve been coming into the shop to buy so many books. I thought you were doing it so you could see me!’

‘Sweetheart, I was.’ Nick grinned. ‘You were the number one reason.’ He paused. ‘Cheryl was the unexpected bonus.’

Lola pulled up an extra chair and sat down. ‘Now I know how the star of the show feels when the understudy gets more applause than she does.’

‘Then I came in one day when you were off and we got chatting.’

‘I told him how nice you were to work for: Cheryl said hopefully.

‘Anyway, there was a spark between us, so I asked her out. We had a great time and it’s gone on from there.’

‘And you just forgot to mention it to your only daughter.’

‘We didn’t know how you’d react,’ said Cheryl.

‘You make it sound as if you’re scared of me.’ Lola shook her head in disbelief.

Cheryl pulled a face. ‘I am.’

‘Madam?’ A waiter materialised at the table with their menus. ‘Are you joining your friends for lunch?’

Lola’s stomach gurgled. She looked from her father to Cheryl then back again.

‘Is that your stomach? Are you starving?’ Nick squeezed her arm. ‘Of course you’re staying for lunch.’

Touched by the offer when it was so obvious they’d rather be alone together, Lola pushed back her chair. ‘It’s OK, I’ll leave you to it. And don’t worry, I think it’s great that you’re seeing each other.’

She honestly genuinely truthfully did. And not just because Cheryl was lovely and deserved someone nice after her pig of an ex-husband had abandoned her three years ago. Lola hugged them both and left them to enjoy their lunch in peace. What she couldn’t admit to anyone was the sensation of icy fear she’d experienced on realising that Cheryl didn’t want her to know who she was seeing.

Of course it seemed ridiculous now, but just for a while back there it had crossed her mind to wonder if it could have been Doug.

The blonde receptionist raised oh-so-polite, perfectly sculptured eyebrows as Lola sashayed past the desk. ‘Better now, madam?’

The receptionist who was so perfect, naturally, that she’d never been to the loo in her life.

Lola nodded and beamed at her. ‘Yes thanks. Much.’

The woman placing the order rested threadbare elbows on the counter and said, ‘It’s the most marvellous book, you know. Called When Miss Denby went to Devon. By Fidelma Barlow.

Have you heard of it?’

‘Sorry, no, that one’s passed me by.’ Lola typed the details into the computer.

‘Oh, it’s unputdownable, an absolute joy! I can’t understand why it isn’t a Sunday Times bestseller. It deserves to be made into a film!’ The woman nodded enthusiastically. ‘Miss Denby would be a wonderful role for Dame Judi Dench.’

Lola checked the screen. ‘Okaaay, yes, we can get that for you by Friday.’

‘Lovely!’ The woman’s face lit up. ‘Can I order fifty copies please?’

‘Fifty! Gosh.’ Maybe it was for a book club. Hesitating for a moment, Lola said, ‘You have to pay for them in advance, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh no, it’s OK.’ The woman shook her head. ‘I don’t want to pay for them.’

‘I know it’s a lot of money. But somebody has to.’

‘But not me! I just want you to put them on the shelves. Make a nice display like you do with the Richard and Judy books. Right at the front of the shop,’ the woman said helpfully, ‘so that people will buy them.’

By the time Lola had finished explaining the niceties of stock ordering to a disappointed Fidelma Barlow, it was almost eight o’clock, kicking out time. Fidelma, shoulders drooping, left the shop.

Lola, who knew just how she felt, dispiritedly straight- , ened a pile of bookmarks and wondered if she could bear to go along to the party tonight that Tim and Darren had invited her to ... except she already knew she couldn’t, which meant she was now going to have to come up with a convincing reason why not.

The next moment she looked up and almost fell over. There, standing six feet away like an honest-to-goodness mirage, was Doug.

Lola’s heart, which never listened to her head and hadn’t yet learned to stop hoping, went into instantaneous clattery overdrive.

‘Hello.’ She clutched the computer for support. ‘What’s this? Is my mum on the telly again?’

Doug smiled slightly. ‘No.’

‘My dad then? On Crimewatch?’

‘Haven’t spotted him on Crimewatch. Maybe he was the one in the balaclava.’ Tilting his head, Doug said, ‘But you’re half right. I am here because of your dad.’

‘You are?’ She hadn’t been expecting him to say that. ‘We had a chat on Saturday night.’

‘You did?’

‘He didn’t mention it? OK, obviously not. Well, we were at the Savoy.’

Lola boggled. ‘My dad was there?’ So that was why his mobile had been switched off. And to think he could have come along to the cinema with her instead.

‘Well, we didn’t communicate by telepathy. He spoke to me about you. Quite forcefully, in fact.’

Doug paused, then glanced over at a nervously hovering Darren who was waiting to empty the till. ‘Sorry, could you just give us a couple of minutes?’

‘Um, but I need to get the—’

‘Darren?’ Lola murmured the word out of the corner of her mouth. ‘Go away.’

‘OK’ Defeated, Darren slunk off.

‘I was watching you with that woman just now. The one who wanted you to stock her book,’

said Doug. ‘You were really nice to her.’

‘That’s because I’m a really nice person. Believe it or not. And you were eavesdropping.’

‘Not eavesdropping. Listening. Like I listened to your dad on Saturday night.’ He waited, gazing directly into Lola’s eyes. ‘I know why you took that money when my mother offered it to you.’

‘What?’ Lola felt as if all the air had been vacuumed out of her lungs. How could he know that?

It wasn’t physically possible, it just wasn’t.

Doug gave an infinitesimal shrug. ‘OK, I don’t know exactly why. But I do know it didn’t have anything to do with a Jeep.’

‘How? Why not?’ Anxiety was now skittering around inside Lola’s stomach like a squirrel.

‘Because you told me you could never tell me the reason you needed the money. And that’s what you said to your fathertoo.’ Doug tilted an eyebrow at her.. ‘But if the Jeep story was true, there’s no reason why you couldn’t have told us that. Therefore it stands to reason that it wasn’t.’

Lola felt dizzy. This was like being cross-examined on the witness stand by a barrister a zillion times cleverer than you. In fact this might be a good moment to faint.

‘So basically,’ Doug continued, ‘you needed the money for something that meant far more to you than a Jeep. It was also something you were determined your mother was never to find out about.’ Pause. ‘Well, there was only one other person on the planet who was that important to you back then.’ Another longer pause. ‘And that was your stepfather Alex.’

Lola’s eyes filled with tears. She blinked and realised the shop was empty. No customers, no staff. Everyone had gone, miraculously disappeared. Thank God.

‘I can’t tell you.’ Helplessly she shook her head. ‘I just can’t. I made a promise.’

‘That’s OK, I’m not asking you to. No digging.’ Doug’s voice softened. ‘I know who you did it for. I don’t need to know why. I didn’t understand before, but I do now That’s enough. It’s all in the past.’

Was this how Catholics felt when they were absolved of all sin and forgiven by God? Lola, who hated crying in front of people but seemed to have been doing a lot of it lately, could feel the tears rolling faster and faster down her face. She couldn’t speak, only nod in a hopeless, all-over-the-place, nodding-doggy kind of way.

‘You know, you’ve been pretty lucky as far as fathers go. First Alex, now Nick. He’s so proud of you,’ said Doug.

For heaven’s sake, how was she supposed to stop crying if he was going to come out with stuff like this? Blindly Lola nodded again and wiped her sleeve across her wet cheeks.

‘And he certainly made me think,’ Doug went on, ‘when he told me I’d missed my chance with you.’

‘He really said that?’ Lola sniffed hard. This was the thing she’d forgotten about fathers; how much they loved to embarrass their daughters in public.

‘And the rest. As if it hasn’t been hard enough these past few months, reminding myself why I should be steering clear of you. Then along comes your father giving me all sorts of grief, then explaining to me why I should think again. That knocked me for six, I can tell you.’

As if it hadn’t been hard enough these past few months? Slowly, desperate not to be getting this wrong, Lola said, ‘So that night when you first saw me again at your mother’s house ... does that mean you didn’t hate me after all?’

‘Oh yes I did. With all my heart. Absolutely and totally.’ Doug half smiled, causing her heart to lollop. ‘But at the same time the old feelings were still there as well, refusing to go away. Like you were refusing to go away. It drove me insane having you back in my life, because I wasn’t able to control the way I felt about you. I wanted to be indifferent, to see you and feel nothing.

But I just couldn’t. It wouldn’t happen.’ He tapped his temple. ‘You were in here, whether I liked it or not.’

Lola was trembling now, almost but not quite sure that his coming here tonight was a very good thing. ‘Like a tapeworm.’ He looked amused. ‘You always did have a way with words.’

‘Oh Dougie, all this time you’ve been hating me, I’ve been trying my best to change your mind’The words came tumbling out in a rush. ‘In the end I just had to give up, told myself to stop before I made a complete prat of myself ... except I already had, over and over again ..

‘I quite enjoyed those bits. I think watching you try to play badminton was my favourite.’ He grinned, moved closer to the counter. ‘I waited in the bar afterwards, but you didn’t turn up.’

‘In case you accused me of stalking you again.’

‘I’m sorry. I haven’t behaved very well either.’ Ruefully Doug said, ‘I’ve lied to you, for a start.’

‘About what?’

‘The photos of us when we were young. Of course I kept them. They’re at home, hidden away in a cupboard,’ his eyes glinted, ‘along with my secret stash of Pot Noodles’

‘I knew it!’ Triumphantly Lola said, ‘Once a Pot Noodler, always a Pot Noodler. Did Isabel know about this?’

Ach, Isabel .. .

‘What’s wrong?’ said Doug when she winced.

‘Isabel. Your girlfriend.’

He relaxed. ‘She isn’t my girlfriend. I finished with her weeks • ago. On the night of your dinner party, in fact.’

‘What?’

‘I smuggled away the photo album. By the time I’d finished looking through the old photos of us, I realised Isabel couldn’t compete. I told her I couldn’t see her any more and she handed in her notice.’

‘Poor Isabel’ Lola did her best to sound as if she meant it. ‘I gave her a great reference. She’s working in Hong Kong now’ Dougie moved towards Lola. ‘You don’t know how close I came to ringing you that night.’

Lola remembered the wrong number and her reaction when the phone had begun to ring. ‘I wanted you to. So much. Oh Dougie ...’ It was no good; having a counter between them wasn’t helping at all. She came out from behind it and threw herself into his arms.

Oh yes, this was where she was meant to be. It was all she’d ever wanted. As he kissed her — at last — she knew everything was going to be all right.

Despite the odd potential drawback.

When he’d finished kissing her, Dougie smiled and said, ‘What are you thinking?’

‘That this is one of the happiest moments of my life.’ Lola stroked his hair. ‘And that your mother’s going to be absolutely furious when she hears about this.’

‘Don’t worry about my mother. After Dad died, she became over-protective of us. When she made you that offer she thought she was doing the right thing. But it’s OK, I’ve had a chat with her. All she wants is for me to be happy, and she accepts that now. She’ll be fine.’

God, he was a heavenly kisser; no one else even came close. And there was so much more fantastic stuff to look forward to. Double-checking that they were safely out of sight — the lights were still on in the store but from here no one walking past in the street could see them — Lola allowed her hands to start wandering in an adventurous fashion.

‘What are you doing?’

‘What I’ve been wanting to do for a long, long time.’ She smiled playfully up at him. ‘Ever got intimate in a bookshop before?’

Doug surveyed her with amusement. ‘Is that a dare? Are you trying to shock me?’

Lola gazed into his dark eyes. Then, slowly and deliberately, she reached out and unfastened his belt.

‘Shouldn’t do that,’ Dougie murmured, ‘unless you’re sure you’ve got the nerve to go through with it. From start to finish.’ He trailed an index finger down her chest until he came to the top button of her shirt. It came undone, exposing the top of her lacy lilac bra.

‘Are you calling me chicken?’ Lola retaliated by pulling his shirt out of his trousers.

‘I think you might lose your nerve.’ Deftly he undid the next button on her shirt.

Trembling now, Lola struggled with the fastening on his trousers. ‘I think you know me better than that. If I say I’m going to do something, I’ll— aaarrgh!’

‘Lola?’ The door at the back of the shop opened and Tim poked his head round. ‘Oh sorry!’ His eyes popped as he realised what he was interrupting.

‘I thought you’d all left!’ Flustered, Lola clapped both hands over her exposed bra.

‘Everyone else has. I’m just off now. I wondered if you’d made up your mind yet about coming along to the party.’ Hmm, have sex with Dougie or go to a party with Tim and Darren. That was a tricky one.

‘Um ... I don’t think so, Tim. But thanks anyway.’

‘OK? Hardly knowing where to look,Tim backed away. ‘Well, have a ... nice time.’

Lola nodded and somehow managed to keep a straight face. When the door had closed behind Tim, she looked at Dougie and said, ‘OK, now I’ve lost my nerve.’

‘Thank God for that.’ Doug smiled his crooked smile and tucked his shirt back into his trousers.

‘So, your flat or mine?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I have Pot Noodles.’

Giddy with joy, Lola made herself decent. ‘That settles it then. A nice time followed by Pot Noodles.’

Dougie put his arm around her. ‘Who could ask for more?’