by Jill Mansell
This was her fourth lesson in getting her confidence back behind the wheel. Somehow, because Will drove for a living and was always so calm and in control, she’d found herself for the first time considering the possibility that maybe she could do it after all. Except the first attempt had been a giant failure; all she’d done was shake and try hard not to burst into tears before giving up after twenty minutes and jumping out of the driver’s seat at traffic lights.
But the second time had been less disastrous, and during the third lesson she’d managed to drive for a whole hour. Despite it still being stressful, the waves of panic were starting to come under control. And whilst anyone else might have lost patience long ago, Will continued to be a saint, understanding and endlessly patient and . . . OK, full disclosure, she’d been finding him more attractive with each passing week.
It just went to show, didn’t it? You never knew what might happen next, what surprises could be just around the corner.
But it certainly seemed to be happening now. Now that she was no longer on the defensive, feeling the need to protect the so-called boyfriend Will had been right about from the start, Layla was able to appreciate his easy manner and dry humour. And maybe also his body, actually quite toned and athletic beneath those Clark Kent outfits.
What would he do if she suddenly launched herself at him in a frenzy of lust and kissed him right there in the car in the middle of the market square on a Tuesday afternoon in November?
Well the answer to that was nothing, because she wasn’t going to do it. She’d need at least six gin and tonics before anything like that could happen.
‘Afternoon.’ Will gave a nod of approval. ‘You’ve had your hair done.’
‘Angel did it.’ She gave her head another tilt to make the ends swish. ‘You like?’
Because how could he say no when she was looking this fabulous?
‘Very nice. Do you want to drive?’
‘Not yet.’ It was too daunting coping with this many cars and pedestrians; so far she’d only taken the wheel once the centre of town was behind them.
A few minutes later, Will pulled into a driveway and they swapped seats. Layla instantly felt her pulse begin to race; was it the prospect of driving or the faint but delicious scent of his aftershave as they crossed paths in front of the car?
‘You’re allowed to look at your phone now,’ she told him, because texts had been pinging up since they’d left the salon.
‘No need.’
‘It might be important.’ Layla felt guilty enough as it was, knowing he was giving up an hour of taxi work just for her.
‘If people are that desperate for a cab, they can call Darren instead. Now, deep breaths and relax. Off we go.’
Layla did as she was told. As they travelled along the winding country lanes, Will gave her gentle encouragement. A rabbit hopped out into the middle of the road and she managed not to scream, simply braking and swerving around it without crashing through a hedge. They chatted about work and clients and people they both knew, including her mother and Benny, whose relationship was going great guns.
‘She’s so happy,’ Layla told him, ‘and it’s so lovely to see them together. They’re off to London this weekend to catch a couple of shows, because Benny’s never seen Hamilton and it’s Mum’s favourite musical. It’s like they were meant to be together.’ She paused as Will’s phone began to ring and without even looking at the screen he switched it to silent. ‘What if it’s an emergency?’
‘Shush, it won’t be. I’d rather concentrate on you. Now, we’re coming up to Moreton . . . Fancy a turn around the station car park?’
‘Not now, it’ll be busy.’ Too many people stepping out suddenly, more concerned about their suitcases than the prospect of being hit by an oncoming car. Indicating left, Layla said, ‘Let’s just stick to quiet roads for now.’
‘OK, fine. How’s Didi getting along?’
This was what she liked about these times in the car with Will, the complete absence of pressure. If she said no, she didn’t have to justify her decision. Relaxing once more, she heard his phone vibrate on silent. When he continued to ignore it, she said, ‘On the surface, not too badly. As far as she’s concerned, she and Aaron weren’t suited and calling off the wedding was the sensible thing to do. But I don’t know, deep down she’s still not happy. She’s not eating properly and that hasn’t happened before. Nothing ever puts Didi off her food.’
‘Is she regretting breaking up with him, d’you think?’
‘She says not, but I don’t know. All she’s doing at the moment is working non-stop.’
‘And how about you?’ As he asked the question, a gust of wind sent a swirl of orange leaves skittering across the road in front of them. Layla let out a squeak of fear, because they looked like autumnal mice, but managed not to do an emergency stop. She was making progress. ‘Me? I’m great.’
‘You don’t miss Harry?’
‘Ha, definitely not. None of us miss Harry.’
‘So you’re happy being single?’
‘Being single’s fine, I’m used to it. I have a great life.’ Layla was concentrating on the road ahead, but inside her brain the earlier fantasy was taking hold. What if she were to stop the car and say, ‘I want to kiss you’? Just like that?
Or, ‘Do you want to kiss me?’
Actually, maybe not. He might say, ‘No thanks.’
‘What are you thinking?’ said Will.
Oh God, was he reading her mind? ‘I’m thinking your phone is driving me nuts. I’m thinking you should answer it.’
‘Not yet. Once you’ve finished driving.’
‘Is it a girlfriend?’
‘No.’
‘Do you have a girlfriend?’
‘Again, no.’
Layla pressed her foot on the brake and pulled up at the side of the otherwise deserted road.
‘What are you doing?’ said Will.
‘I’ve stopped driving.’
‘Why?’
‘So you can answer your really annoying phone.’ Switching off the ignition, she turned to face him properly and took a deep breath. ‘And so that I can kiss me.’
‘What?’
Oh God, oh God. ‘So that I can kiss you. Or you can kiss me. One of those.’ Now her skin was prickling with mortification. ‘Either of them, you choose. Or none, if you don’t want to, doesn’t matter.’
Silence. Will stared.
His phone buzzed again, like an angry trapped wasp.
He pressed the button on the passenger door and the window slid open. He lobbed his phone out onto the grass verge, then turned back to look at her. ‘Really?’
She’d started so she’d finish. ‘Really.’
‘I’ve wanted this to happen for months. I never thought it would.’
So Angel had been right after all. Her voice unsteady and her adrenalin in chronic overdrive, Layla echoed, ‘Really?’
He was on the verge of smiling now. ‘Oh yes. Really.’
‘Right. Well that’s good.’
‘I was jealous of Harry.’ Will paused. ‘I knew he was a player. But I also knew you didn’t want to hear it from me.’
‘He’s gone. We don’t have to talk about him any more.’ Although in a way, it was thanks to her terrible taste in online dates that they’d arrived at this point now.
‘It might help if you take off your seat belt,’ said Will.
‘You might want to take yours off too.’
Click.
Click.
Will said, ‘I’ve never kissed anyone in this car before.’
Layla knew what he meant; it would be like her kissing a client in her office, over a pile of invoices and tax returns. ‘Do you think it’s going to feel weird?’
His eyebrows tilted very slightly in that inimitable way they did when he was amused. ‘I think it’s going to be amazing. And I can’t wait to find out.’
He was so lovely. How on earth had it taken her this long to realise what
a good, decent man he was? Except deep down she’d always known, but had suppressed her feelings because she’d been so sure he would never be interested in her.
She leaned across, took his face between her hands and kissed his beautiful mouth. His lips were warm, he smelled wonderful and she could feel his heart thudding against her chest almost as wildly as hers. She felt dizzy with joy because it just felt so perfect, so right. Now that his fingers were gliding through her hair, she was extra glad not to be wearing hairspray—
‘WA-HEYYY!’ yelled a male voice from the driver’s window of a passing van. The horn toot-tooted as he roared off down the road.
‘That’s not going to stop me,’ Will murmured with a grin.
And it didn’t. They carried on kissing . . . and kissing . . . and kissing some more . . .
Until a knock on the window made them both jump and spring apart. An elderly woman with a face like a wizened walnut was staring in at them, alongside an elegant silky-haired Afghan hound.
Impatiently, the woman tapped her gnarled knuckles against the glass again. Layla buzzed down the window. ‘Can I help you?’
‘No, but I can help you. Word of warning, first of all.’ The woman eyed Will beadily before returning her attention to Layla. ‘Don’t you go giving yourself away, my girl. I know what men are like, mark my words. No bugger’s ever going to buy the cow if they’re getting the milk for free.’
Next to her, Layla heard Will stifle laughter, disguising it as a cough.
‘Thanks, I’ll bear that in mind.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘What else do you want to help me with?’
‘There’s one of those infernal buzzing machines over on the other side of the car, in a patch of dandelions. So if it’s yours, you might want to move it, because that’s where Bert likes to do his business.’
Bert wagged his tail in apologetic agreement.
‘Right. Thanks.’ Polite as ever, Will opened the passenger door. He collected his phone, thanked the woman, then climbed back into the car.
‘You’re lucky Bert didn’t piddle all over it.’ She shook her head. ‘Why does it keep doing that anyway?’
‘Someone’s trying to call me,’ said Will.
‘Why aren’t you answering it then?’
‘I had other things on my mind.’ As he said it, Bert began to pee all over the dandelion patch.
‘Want me to answer it for you? Tell them to bugger off?’
‘That’s very kind of you, but no need.’
The dog finished his business, then he and the elderly woman set off up the road. Layla and Will watched them go.
‘She was right about one thing,’ said Layla. ‘You definitely need to answer your phone.’
Chapter 44
‘I don’t want to,’ said Will.
‘Why not?’
‘It might be bad news.’
Her blood ran cold. ‘Are you ill?’
‘No. Not that kind of bad news.’
He was holding the phone in the palm of his hand, gazing down at the name on the screen. Layla’s imagination was going haywire. Was it a long-lost relative? An extortion attempt? An ex-girlfriend calling to tell him she’d just given birth to his child? She said, ‘Who’s Esther Richmond?’
Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that Will would heave a sigh and say, ‘My literary agent.’
Layla blinked. ‘Sorry?’ She knew what a literary agent was, because a client of hers was a novelist who wrote impenetrable science fiction and fantasy and was always forcing his latest books on her, urging her to read them then asking complicated questions afterwards to check that she had. But the reason Vincent had a literary agent was because he was an author.
Will was a taxi driver.
‘Esther’s my literary agent. She took me on a fortnight ago.’
‘I didn’t even know you liked books.’ There’d never been so much as a battered paperback in the glove compartment.
‘I love them.’
There was so much she didn’t know about him. ‘I’ve never seen you reading, not once. You’re always on your . . . you know . . . iPad.’ As she mimed typing, her brain finally caught up with her fingers. Staring at him in disbelief, she said, ‘You’ve written a book?’
Will nodded. ‘I have.’
‘So all the time you were working on your iPad, that’s what you were doing?’
‘Yes.’
Layla shook her head. ‘Am I the only person who doesn’t know about this?’
‘The opposite, actually. You’re the only person who does.’
‘What? Are you crazy? You’ve written a whole book and got yourself an agent and you haven’t told anyone? If it was me, I’d be marching up and down the high street with a giant megaphone. I’d be telling the whole world.’
‘You’re you, and I’m me.’ Will managed a wry smile. ‘And getting an agent doesn’t guarantee you’ll find a publisher.’
‘But your agent’s been calling you! Why aren’t you answering your phone? She might have amazing news.’
Will said, ‘And she might not. I know she emailed the manuscript to six editors at the top publishing houses. What if they’ve all said no? What if she’s sent it out to more people and they’ve rejected it too? What if she says she’s sorry but she’s changed her mind about representing me, it was all a terrible mistake and my manuscript just isn’t good enough to be published? What if—’
‘Stop!’ Layla held up both hands. ‘Oh my God, I don’t believe this. You have to call her this minute. Seriously, just do it.’ She grabbed his phone and pushed it into his hands.
Will blanched. ‘I can’t, I feel sick.’
The phone began to buzz again and he shook his head. Layla took it back and answered it.
‘At last,’ said Esther Richmond. ‘But you aren’t Will.’
‘He’s right here next to me.’
Will covered his face with his hands.
‘And the reason he hasn’t been answering his phone . . .? Is he asleep? In a coma?’
‘He’s scared you’re going to tell him his book’s no good and no one wants to buy it.’
‘You mean he’s telling me I don’t know how to do my job?’ Esther Richmond gave a bark of laughter. ‘Put him on.’
‘Oh God.’ Will was as white as a sheet.
He took the phone and listened, and Layla tried her hardest to listen too, but he had it pressed so tightly against his ear that all she could make out was a brisk murmur of conversation punctuated by Will going, ‘Right . . . OK . . . Yes . . . Right,’ at intervals whilst looking dazed.
Finally he said, ‘I know. Sorry about that,’ and ended the call.
‘Sorry about what?’ said Layla.
‘Not answering my phone while she was trying to set up a meeting with an editor.’ He exhaled, and she saw that his hands were trembling. Cool, calm Will was in a state of shock.
‘And? Does that mean someone wants to buy your book?’ Her heart began to skitter; it was like betting on a horse and seeing it move into the lead at the final fence.
‘No.’ Will swallowed audibly and hesitated, then said, ‘Four editors want to buy it.’
‘My God, are you serious?’
He frowned. ‘Unless she was playing a trick on me.’
‘You know she wasn’t. Oh Will, this is amazing! It’s incredible!’ She flung her arms around him and kissed him again, hard. ‘Congratulations!’
‘I have to go up to London to meet them. So I can see how I feel about the different publishing houses and their plans for the book. Esther says she’s going to run an auction . . . and there’s interest from a big American publisher too.’
‘You idiot,’ Layla said fondly. ‘You could have known all this an hour ago if you’d just answered your phone the first time she called.’
‘Ah, but I was with you. Which was pretty great to begin with. Then it turned from being pretty great into one of the best days of my life.’ Will reached for her hand and threaded her fingers
between his. ‘Then you forced me to speak to Esther and it got even better.’
Layla’s heart expanded. ‘I don’t even know what kind of a book you’ve written. I’m just so happy for you.’
‘It’s about a space cowboy who travels the universe solving crimes with his pet monkey.’
She blinked. ‘I wasn’t expecting that.’
‘Just kidding. It’s about a taxi driver who takes off on a road trip around the UK in search of his long-lost family. According to Esther it’s quirky, comedic and blissfully beguiling. She also said it made her cry, and she never cries.’
‘That definitely sounds more like you. It sounds like the kind of thing I’d love to read. Can I?’ As she said it, Layla belatedly realised that she’d restarted the ignition, performed a three-point turn in the lane and was now driving back towards Elliscombe. Well, they couldn’t stay sitting parked up in the middle of nowhere for ever.
‘Where are you taking me?’ said Will.
‘I don’t mind. Your place or mine? You choose.’
He grinned. ‘This day’s getting more amazing by the minute.’
‘Tell me more about your book.’
Ten minutes later, they reached Elliscombe. So enthralled by what he was saying that she forgot to panic about the traffic around them, Layla drove through the town and pulled into the lane behind her flat. There was the allocated parking spot that had stood empty ever since she’d bought the property two years ago. Without even pausing to wonder if she could do it, she reversed the car into the narrow space. It wasn’t quite straight, so she moved forward before reversing again: better this time. Her palms weren’t damp and her heart wasn’t racing; it was as if one of those TV hypnotists had cast their spell on her and quite literally siphoned all the terror from her brain.
‘. . . and that was it, she called to tell me she’d stayed up all night reading the manuscript. Well done,’ said Will.
‘I know. I think I’m cured.’ She held out her hands and admired their rock-steadiness.
‘Excellent. Do you have any clients to see this afternoon?’
‘Not a single one.’
‘Even more excellent.’
‘How about you?’ said Layla.
‘If anyone needs a taxi, they can call someone else. My phone’s staying switched off.’
