Lola's House (Lola Series)

by Groers, Suzie

  I feel myself deflate a little. ‘Why don’t you think we’re suited?’

  She does the upwards eye thing again and I feel myself getting impatient. ‘He’s just so high maintenance. You know, a designer clothes and expensive restaurants type of guy. The sort who doesn’t like to ruin his manicure and you’re…well, you’re just you. Down to earth and easy going. You’re happy in jeans and a scruffy tee shirt, mucking around in the back of the shop.’

  She smiles at me while I digest this new piece of information. She has a point. During our relationship, and especially when we lived together, it was always me changing fuses and hammering in nails to hang pictures. James always shied away from that kind of thing and spent a hell of a lot more time in the bathroom slapping on man moisturisers and plucking out nasal hairs. Come to think of it, I wasn’t really sure how we ever got together.

  I considered this briefly and felt my stomach flipping over with nerves. Now I’m dreading tomorrow night, hopefully I can get it over and done with, with as little emotional damage as possible, then not see him again. I groan inwardly, and not for the first time since seeing James last week. How on earth do I get myself into these situations?

  Chapter Six

  Thursday rolls around all too quickly and I’m still feeling nervous about my date with James. I don’t know why I feel this way, I have spent quite a few years living with him, so he has seen me both at my best and of course my absolute worse. But, as I have to make the best of it, I have picked out a beautiful black silk sheath dress from the shop, that has tiny little glass beads sewn at the neckline. It fits me like a dream. I team this with some nude, strappy suede sandals. The heels are sky high so I am praying I can stay upright all night. I have had my hair trimmed and blow dried and it feels fabulous, all bouncy round my shoulders like in a shampoo advert. I have also had a manicure and a pedicure just to finish off the look.

  You might ask why I am going to so much trouble for dinner with an ex? Well, the truth is, a tiny part of me wants him to see what he is missing. Plus the fact I looked like a human fur ball when I saw him in the pub the previous week, and I don’t want him to think that I have fallen apart since we split up. Yes I know, I did fall apart a little. Well, a lot actually, but I am only human. And I am fairly certain I am over him now. Oh God, so why is my stomach doing somersaults every time I think about the coming evening?

  Muriel has left the shop for the evening and I take a quick look round to make sure everything is okay before I lock up for the night. The shop is looking a lot better since our clear out, and we’ve had a few extra customers through the door, so I’m quite happy with that. Muriel’s niece is coming to see me on Monday and I am getting really excited about seeing her designs. It feels as if we are making some progress, at last.

  I grab my bags and the dress, which I have carefully placed in a suit bag, and leave the shop via the back door. I’d had a word with Sandip earlier and let him know I was on a deadline, so I am pleased to notice his colossal van isn’t parked behind my car, and for once and I can get out of the car park without any incidents.

  Ten minutes drive and I am back at the house. I let myself in the front door, put my bags on the floor while I hang the dress from the banister. I take a quick look in the rooms reserved for my lodger to check whether he has moved in yet but there is no sign of him. The rooms are still empty and I haven’t heard off him, which is a bit strange as he had been keen to move in, but maybe he had changed his mind about it after all. I haven’t really got time to dwell on it so I go off upstairs to transform myself into sexy siren.

  By seven-thirty I am back downstairs, stood in the bay window in the sitting room. I don’t want to sit down as my dress will crease and to be honest, the heels of my shoes are by now murdering my feet. I feel about six feet tall and think I may be in danger of toppling over at any second. However, they do look really good, I stick a foot out and angle it this way and that to admire the shoes.

  By seven forty-five he still hasn’t turned up. He should have arrived fifteen minutes earlier. I start to nibble nervously at my nail and then pull it away from my mouth, quickly remembering the manicure.

  Ten minutes later, and I am getting really wound up. I can’t think of anything worse than being stood up right now. I really hate it when people are late, it’s just so inconsiderate and I’m tapping my nails on the windowsill with agitation. At last, I see his car swing into the drive and I breathe a sigh of relief, at least I haven’t been stood up.

  As I close the front door behind me James walks around the car to the passenger door and holds it open for me. That’s a new move I think, he never used to do that when we were together, it was every man for himself in those days.

  ‘Wow, you look amazing,’ he says, as I approach and he leans over to kiss my cheek.

  ‘Thank you.’ It feels strange being kissed by James again after all this time, sort of an unfamiliar familiar, like putting on a comfy old jumper you had forgotten you had.

  He walks around and gets in beside me and then turns to face me. ‘I’m really sorry I’m late, I got held up on a contract.’

  He has redeemed himself with the compliment, so I think no more of it. I’m so shallow sometimes I know, selling my soul for some nice words. I just smile and look ahead.

  He starts up the car and pulls off the driveway. ‘I’ve booked us a table at a nice little French place. I’ve not been there myself but I’ve heard some very good reports about it so I hope you’re hungry.’

  Unfortunately, I’m not one of those women who will order a small salad and pick at it, I really do like my food. I could eat a horse I’m so hungry but I don’t want to mention this as we are going French.

  At the restaurant James pulls a chair out for me. Okay, so far I am impressed. Old James never did that. Old James was usually checking his own reflection in the mirror, or on occasion, checking out other women when he thought I couldn’t see him.

  We order our food and a bottle of wine appears at our table. The waiter pours a glass for me and I take a sip. It is exceptionally nice wine, so I take a few more sips to steady my nerves. I must say James is looking absolutely impeccable. His skin looks tanned and his blue eyes are sparkling. His dark hair is just as floppy as it’s always been, but in a cute sexy kind of way, and he is wearing a very expensive tailored suit. My eyes latch onto the hand stitching on the lapels, definitely not off the peg, I think to myself. I drag my eyes away and fiddle with the cutlery nervously. I’m not really sure how dinner-with-an-ex etiquette works and I am a bit clueless as to what to talk about so I say the first thing that comes into my head. ‘So, how’s work going?’

  ‘Oh Stuart and I have started on a new venture. We’re dabbling in property. It’s going quite well so far but we’re looking for some investors at the moment.’ He puts his glass down and twiddles with the stem while he looks down at the table. ‘We’ve been in London a lot, bought a couple of places down there. They’re being remodelled at the moment, so as soon as they are completed we’ll be putting them on the market. Anyway, enough about me, how are you getting on, Lola?’

  I blink in surprise. I didn’t actually think we have talked about him that much, and he has always enjoyed talking about himself in the past, so I’m thrown a little. ‘I’m erm, I’m doing good thanks. Busy in the shop, you know how it is and we’re making a few changes.’ I don’t mention Gran’s house deliberately as that was what had sent him over the edge previously.

  He takes another sip and then replaces his glass on the table and smiles at me. ‘Listen, Lola, I have to come clean. I’ve been thinking about getting in touch with you for a while. It wasn’t really an accident bumping into you last week. I know that’s where you and Chrissie hang out.’ He stops and I can sense he is having some sort of internal struggle. His hand comes across the table and rests on top of mine.

  ‘I feel really bad about the way things ended between us. It was all so...’ He looks around searching for the right sentiment. ‘We
ll it was abrupt and I admit that was my fault. We were going to work on things and I just, well I dunno...It was hard to see you and not be with you, and I wanted to make things right between us again. I thought maybe, if you agree of course, we could hang out again, you know and see how it goes between us. No pressure or anything. Just get to know each other again. What do you think?’

  My hand is frozen on the table under his. I look down at it and pull it away. He flinches slightly. ‘Oh, I never...I didn’t think...’ I am gabbling of course, trying to let my mouth catch up with my brain.

  ‘It’s okay if you’re seeing someone, I fully understand,’ he says, leaning back a little in his chair, creating some distance between us.

  ‘No, it’s not that. I never imagined you would want to get back together. Not after the way things were at the end for us.’ I think back to his dismissal of me on our last day together.

  ‘I’m sorry, Lola, I was an arsehole. But I think I’ve changed. This last year has taught me a lot.’ His eyes looks earnest, almost pleading, his hair flopping over his forehead, little boy lost look on his face.

  I never could resist his charms. And we did have some really good times together, maybe I could risk another try, after all I wasn’t sure I ever got over him completely. I still feel my heart twang when he looks at me and a little rush of emotion when I am near him. I weigh all of this up quickly in my mind and remember how Muriel had told me to take my time and not do anything rash. ‘I think we could probably give it another go, James.’

  His face lights up and he leans forward again. ‘Seriously?’

  I laugh, ‘yes seriously, but we take it slow and see how it goes.’

  He reaches across the small table and puts his hands either side of my face pulling me towards him and then leans forwards until his lips are gently touching mine. At this point, I feel a little surprised at how quickly we have gone from an exploratory date, to snogging with a commitment to see how it goes. But I just shrug my shoulders, nothing ventured, nothing gained I think. If I don’t give it a chance I’ll never know.

  The rest of the meal goes nicely enough, we talk a lot about old times, and laugh quite a bit too. On some level it feels nice, like I’ve come home again. I’d spent so much of my life with James that it left a big hole when we split up and I never quite got the hang of filling it with anything else.

  He drops me off at home, getting out of the car again and coming round to open the door for me. As I emerge from the car he wraps his arms around my waist, his hands wandering down to my backside, and pulls me closer, giving me another kiss, full on this time with tongue. So much for going slowly I think to myself. When he releases me I stagger slightly and feel a little flush in my cheeks. I don’t invite him into the house, and to be fair he hasn’t pushed for an invite either, which is unusual for James. Old James would have been gagging to get inside, both the house and my knickers.

  Once back in the house I dump my bag on the table in the hall, kick off my shoes and flex out my sore toes. I stand by the table for a moment and touch my fingertips to my lips which are still tingling from his kiss. I’m a little bit gobsmacked to be honest, not at the kiss, he’s never been shy in that department, but at his whole demeanour. His behaviour has changed; he was so courteous and thoughtful tonight and well, so not James. I’m thinking maybe he’s had a personality transplant or perhaps he’s been cloned. I ponder on this for a second or two, and decide to see how long thoughtful James stays in evidence on our next date. Then yawning, I take myself off up to bed as my feet are now virtually begging me to get off them.

  I am up bright and early next morning, showered and dressed in a black pencil skirt which just skims my knees and a hot pink lacy tee shirt. As my feet still haven’t gotten over last night’s stilettos I have chosen hot pink ballet pumps to give them a nice rest, I am going to be in the shop all day so I need to be prepared for every eventuality.

  I am sat at the kitchen table, pouring my second cup of coffee when there is a loud hammering on the front door. The sudden noise makes me jump and I slosh coffee onto the table, looking at my watch I decide it’s way too early for visitors but get up anyway and go to find out who is making so much noise this early in the morning. When I open the door Chrissie strides in holding a carrier bag in one hand and a bag of croissants in the other.

  ‘Morning,’ I say to her as she marches past me and into the kitchen as if she lives here. I follow her through and take my seat at the table again.

  ‘So, how was the date?’ she says, looking around furtively. ‘Is he still here?’

  I take a slurp of coffee and help myself to one of the croissants. ‘Is who still here?’

  ‘James of course, wasn’t it your big date night last night? Thought you might have been ripping each other’s clothes off within an hour and shagging each other senseless, making up for lost time.’

  I furrow my brows at her. ‘No, it wasn’t like that at all. He was kind of sweet actually, and very considerate.’

  She blows out air, flapping her lips in a raspberry sound. ‘James? Sweet and considerate? Did you check his passport to make sure it really was him and not his doppelganger?’

  I give her my oh-so-not-impressed face and tear off a piece of croissant and shove it in my mouth. ‘Everyone can change you know.’

  ‘Yeah sure, this is James we’re talking about. James has always lived in James world, where everyone does James things.’ She plonks herself down opposite me.

  ‘Well if you’re going to be like that I won’t bother telling you how it went.’ I purse my lips together until I realise I probably look like my mother and relax them again.

  She picks up the coffee jug and pours herself a steaming mug. ‘Don’t be an arse, Lola. You know I have to give him a hard time, it is James after all. Just tell me what happened and stop bloody pouting.’

  So, I quickly fill her in on the events of last night, including how good he looked and how thoughtful he was. And I spend a bit too long describing the lovely kiss when he dropped me off.

  ‘So, you’re an item again then?’ she says, not hiding her disgust.

  ‘Well sort of, we’re just taking it steady to see how it goes.’

  ‘And he didn’t try to get in your knickers?’

  ‘No, he was a gentleman.’

  ‘Blimey, people really do change. I’ll keep an open mind though.’ She finishes off her croissant and then holds up the carrier bag she has bought in with her.

  ‘What’s that?’ I eye the bag suspiciously.

  She pushes it across the table towards me. ‘It’s your outfit for Poppy’s hen night weekend.’

  ‘Outfit?’ I shake my head firmly. ‘Oh no, we agreed there would be no outfit.’

  ‘Yes, well Poppy had a re-think about it, and decided we ought to get into the spirit of the weekend properly.’

  I peer into the bag cautiously, like something is going to jump out at me, and then tip the contents onto the table. First I hold up a pair of teeny, tiny white shorts and my mouth falls open. Next I hold up a black vest top emblazoned with ‘Poppy’s Pussy Posse’. I drop them back onto the table like they’re contaminated. ‘You can fuck right off. There is no way I will ever wear that, that...’ I wave my hand dismissively at the offending items, ‘...ensemble. I said no stupid outfits.’

  ‘Oh stop being so cranky, Lola and just get into the spirit of it. We’re all wearing them. It’s not like anyone will know you in Brighton.’

  I stuff the garments back into the carrier bag and push it back across the table towards her. ‘Well I’m not wearing them so you may as well take them back with you.’

  Chrissie ignores both the carrier bag and me, and then picks up her handbag. ‘Right, well, I have to get going. Cal is taking me shopping so I want to see if I can drop some more marriage hints while we are out. It’s turning out to be harder than I thought to get him to spontaneously propose to me.’

  ‘Maybe you should just wait and let him do it in his own time?’
I say, standing up with her.

  She laughs. ‘He’s not going to propose without a bit of pushing is he? We live together, he gets loads of sex and his washing done for him, why would he need to get married?’

  ‘You never know, just give him a chance,’ I say, knowing once she has got an idea into her mind she will pursue it to the death.

  ‘A little nudge never hurt anyone, Lola. Anyway, I have to get going, things to do.’ She breezes out as fast as she has entered leaving me with a feeling that a whirlwind has just passed through.

  After she has gone I clear the table and put the breakfast things in the sink. I think about Chrissie and Cal. She dotes on him and there is no doubt he feels the same, but she definitely wears the trousers in that relationship, and it works for them. I just hope she doesn’t go too overboard in her pursuit to get what she wants.

  I spot the carrier bag still sitting looking at me accusingly and I groan inside. I can’t deal with this much trauma before nine am so I grab my bags and go off to work hoping the day will get better and something will take my mind off it.

  Chapter Seven

  I get to the shop just before nine and go in through the back door. Dumping my bags in the back room, I notice Muriel has opened up and is already serving a customer. As I walk to the front of the shop, I can see her talking to a rangy looking young man with Justin Bieber hair who is examining a black leather Kelly handbag.

  ‘My girlfriend saw it last week and she hasn’t stopped talking about it since. And as it’s her birthday soon I thought I would get it for her as a surprise,’ he says, peering closely at the bag in his hands.

  Muriel stands opposite him with her hands on the counter. ‘Yes, well it is a beautiful handbag and can be used for both day and evening.’

  He undoes the clasp on the bag and scrutinises the inside. ‘It looks used.’

  ‘Yes, sir, it’s vintage.’

  He examines it more closely. ‘Have you got any new ones?’