Lola's House (Lola Series)

by Groers, Suzie

  Ned pulls a large screwdriver from his pocket and fiddles with the end. ‘I’ve got to get on, missus, we’re one man down what with our Kevin being off with his foot.’

  ‘How is Kevin, is he any better?’

  ‘He’s resting, but he’ll be back next week. He’s driving his mom mad with his heavy metal music blasting out all day. Betty keeps phoning me so I can tell him to turn it down.’ His mobile phone rings, and he blows out a large gust of air as he pulls it out of his pocket and walks off. ‘They’re driving me mad, they are.’

  I turn and look at Robert. ‘I’d better get back to the shop.’

  ‘Do you fancy a quick cup of tea before you go?’

  I look at my watch. ‘Yes, I think I will, I never got chance to drink my cappuccino before I left the shop.’

  ‘Sorry about dragging you away like that, but I thought I had better check it out with you.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ I say, following him into the kitchen. ‘I’m glad you did. To be honest, this whole thing with Alex is stressing me out.’

  ‘Has you brother got a stake in the house?’ He fills the kettle and switches it on, then stands with his back to the worktop.

  ‘No, none at all.’ I pinch the top of my nose trying to stop the headache which is now forming.

  ‘Do you want me to have a word with him?’

  ‘Thanks, Robert. But I think I need to sort this out myself, once and for all.’

  ‘I’m a bit surprised James hasn’t said something to him.’ Robert gets the cups out ready and reaches for the tea bags.

  ‘Well to be honest, I don’t think James would mind if I sold the house, that’s why I’ve never really spoken to him about it. James never really liked it here that much.’

  Robert’s frowns in confusion. ‘But isn’t he moving in?’

  ‘He is yes, but I think he sees it as a temporary measure until we buy somewhere more suitable.’

  ‘And how do you feel about that?’

  I smile at him. ‘I love this house, you know I do. So it’s quite difficult as I don’t want to feel I have to leave here to keep someone else happy. But on the other hand is it worth clinging to and risking my relationship?’

  ‘You’ve got yourself quite a tricky situation then and unfortunately, only you can decide what you want to do.’ He comes over to my side of the table and pulls out a chair, pressing me into it.

  I slump my body across the table in resignation, my head in my hands. ‘Why can’t I have a normal family, Robert? You know a family that is supportive instead of being grabbing and critical.’

  He stands behind me and puts his hands onto my shoulders and kneads the tension out of my muscles. ‘If it makes you feel any better my family are far from normal. My mom went to live on a kibbutz in India about ten years ago.’

  I sit up but don’t stop him massaging my shoulders and neck. It feels wonderful to have his hands on me. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes really. I went to visit her once but it was all a bit too hippy for me.’ He holds up his hands to do the victory sign. ‘Love and peace man.’

  I laugh and ease my shoulders back into his hands. ‘What about your dad?’

  ‘He’s no better, he lives with two women, both a lot younger than himself. He could never decide which one he wanted to be with so they all decided to live together.’

  I gasp. ‘Wow, I bet that’s weird at Christmas?’

  ‘It’s more than weird, it’s surreal. I avoid visiting him at home.’

  ‘It’s a wonder you turned out so normal.’ My eyes are closed at this point and I can feel myself melting into his touch, it just feels magical, like he has dipped his finger tips in fairy dust. I’m floating out of my body and all of the tension I’ve been feeling is easing from my muscles and I forget myself for a moment and a slow pleasure filled moan escapes my lips.

  The hands on my shoulders stop massaging and Robert steps away. ‘I had better finish making this tea.’

  I quickly pull myself together, realising maybe I have enjoyed the massage a little too much. I feel a flush of heat in my cheeks. ‘I think I had better get back to the shop actually, I ran out on Muriel earlier and left her alone.’ I grab my keys from the table and push the chair back. ‘I’ll catch you later.’ With that I take off, like a rocket, and into my car.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Back at the shop Sandip has taken my parking space so I have to squeeze my car behind his. As I walk in the back door Muriel is just passing through from the stock room. ‘Chrissie has just gone, where have you been?’

  ‘I’ll fill you in, in a minute – I just have to make a quick call,’ I say, and she carries on through to the shop. I can hear her talking to a customer so I push the office door closed and drop my bag on the desk, then flop myself down into the chair. The chocolate muffins from earlier have been demolished, and all that is left is a few sad crumbs scattered on the desk. But my stone cold cappuccino still sits there, looking unloved, so I pour it down the sink and toss the paper cup in the bin. My head is now pounding and I’m not looking forward to confronting Alex.

  I dial his number and wait while it rings several times before clicking through to voicemail. Typical. I leave a quick neutral message for him to call me back, and then end the call still grasping my mobile tightly in my hand. Tapping my nails on the desk in frustration, I really needed to vent this anger I feel for Alex. Ideally I would like to confront him in person, but I may then resort to violence and knowing my brother he would probably sue me.

  My phone rings in my hand and I answer it without checking the screen first. Big mistake. I mentally kick myself when I hear the voice on the line.

  ‘Hello, dear, how are you?’

  ‘Hi, mom,’ I say, forcing a cheerful tone into my voice I certainly don’t feel. ‘I’m good thanks, how are you?’

  ‘I’m well thank you, dear, although I heard some quite upsetting news at the hairdressers earlier.’ I can tell by the tone of her voice I’m not going to like what follows.

  ‘Oh, what did you hear?’ I grit my teeth but at least whatever it is will take my mind off Alex and how much I want to torture him.

  ‘I had a call from Mrs. Boucher,’ she says, her voice clipped.

  I stop tapping my nails. ‘Mrs. Boucher who lives across the road from me?’

  ‘Yes, dear, that Mrs. Boucher, now please don’t interrupt. She told me Mr. Green from the butchers heard it from his niece Candy, that you are holding a party at the shop soon.’ Word certainly travels fast in these parts it seems.

  I perk to attention but don’t know what to say. ‘I erm...’

  ‘Don’t interrupt me, Lola. Imagine how mortified I felt when I didn’t know anything about it, or even haven’t received an invitation. My own daughter has deliberately snubbed me.’ Definitely clipped, to within an inch of its life.

  Damn, I hadn’t wanted her to find out. The last thing I want is for her to turn up and start bossing everyone around. Now to see if I can wriggle out of this with as little damage as possible. My mind goes into overdrive searching for any reason why she can’t attend, I may need to be creative and well, basically lie my way out it and hope the gods are smiling down on me.

  ‘Oh mom, I’m sorry, it’s more a trade thing, you know contacts from local businesses, that sort of thing. It’ll probably be really boring.’

  ‘Well Candy hasn’t got a business, why has she been invited?’

  I am such a rubbish liar and no one is smiling down on me today. ‘Candy? Oh she invited herself, you know how bolshie she is and I didn’t like to say no.’

  ‘Well no matter, I’ll come along anyway, you’ll need someone to help with nibbles and things like that.’

  ‘That’s okay mom, I’ve got all of that in hand,’ I say, keeping my fingers crossed and hoping she will let me fob her off.

  ‘It’s no trouble, Lola, I’ll be there at six-thirty, Malcolm will bring me,’ she replies, she has obviously made up her mind before she spoke to me that she w
as coming. Not much point me wasting time with finger crossing then.

  ‘Great, I’ll see you next week then mom,’ I say, gritting my teeth in the sure knowledge nothing on earth will stop her now. But the phone call shouldn’t need to be a total loss for me, who better to know where my brother is than his number one fan. ‘Oh, mom, have you seen Alex?’

  ‘No, dear, but you know how busy he is. Maybe you should invite him next week, he may be able to give you a few pointers for the business?’

  A little smile plays on my lips. ‘Do you know what, mom, I think I just might do that.’

  ‘Good, good. It’s nice to know you two are getting along so well. Anyway, I had better go, I’ve got so much to do, I’ll have to find myself a nice outfit for the party now you’ve invited me.’ For the first time in my life I think she actually sounds pleased with me. Perhaps I should pretend to like Alex more often.

  After I get off the phone I go in search of Muriel, a big beaming smile on my face. She is re-hanging a velvet dress onto a hanger. ‘You look chirpier, good news?’ she says.

  ‘My mom’s just invited herself to the re-launch, so I’m going to invite Alex too.’ I announce triumphantly.

  Muriel is well aware of how I feel about both my mom and Alex so she looks at me confused. ‘And that’s made you happy?’

  ‘This time it has, yes.’ Alex is so intent on grabbing money, regardless of what he has to do to get it. The least I can do is make sure he is aware of what it will cost him.

  After we close the shop for the evening I stay on to do some painting. Muriel is busy in the stock room sorting out the items we will be showcasing on the night, making sure everything is in tip top condition. However, by seven-thirty we have both had enough and so we pack everything away and lock up the shop. I get home fifteen minutes later and as I’m about to put my key into the lock, the front door is flung open. I stop with my hand poised as Robert stands filling the doorway, keys in hand. He is dressed in a tight pair of well cut jeans and a black shirt which highlights his tanned skin. He looks so handsome and he smells divine, my senses go into overload and do a spontaneous somersault. Then I go cold as I remember he is going on a date. Call it irrational or call it being human, but I’m weak. I know I have no right to react this way but I do all the same.

  ‘Oh hi, Lola.’ He looks taken back. ‘I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.’

  ‘Hi, yes, we finished up at the shop early, we’re both worn out.’ He towers above me in the doorway. ‘Are you off out then?’

  ‘Yes, and I’m running a bit late.’ He jangles his keys nervously.

  We both stand there. I’m thinking back to this afternoon when his hands had been massaging my shoulders. It’s probably not a good idea to let my imagination wander much further. Now I don’t know what to say but I have to speak to break the deadlock.

  ‘I’d better not keep you then, have a good evening.’

  ‘Catch you later,’ he says, as he walks past me. ‘Oh, I left you something in the fridge, I guessed you wouldn’t have eaten yet.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, with a smile watching him stride off, and get into his car.

  Next morning I awake to the sound of rain pattering on the window. Then I feel hot breath on my face, blowing gently. It takes a few minutes for my brain to register I’m not alone in the bed, and I slowly open my eyes to see a hairy snout and two brown eyes looking back at me.

  ‘Oh god, Harley. What are you doing on my bed?’

  At the sound of his name he jumps up and sneaks off to the end of the bed, probably hoping I won’t notice that he hasn’t gotten off it yet. I check the time on my bedside clock. Seven am. Already. I groan and throw back the duvet. I feel like I have only just gone to bed. I swing my legs over the side and go and look out of the window at the dismal weather. The rain is coming down harder and pools of water are collecting on the pavement.

  Then I notice there is only one car on the driveway. Mine. Seems like Robert hit it off so well with his date last night he didn’t come home at all. But that’s okay, I think to myself. He is entitled to spend the night with someone he likes. Just because he is hot and makes my knees tremble every time I see him, it shouldn’t make any difference to me.

  I stand at the window, my breath steaming up the rain splattered glass. So, why does it matter so much? What am I doing anyway, mooning over another man when I have a perfectly good boyfriend of my own who wants to be with me? A man I can make a life with. I know he isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but he really is a good sort, deep down. And he does try to be thoughtful - it’s just he has so many other things to think about. He shows his affection in other ways. He takes me to nice places and he can be very attentive when he wants to be.

  After a shower and a quick hair drying session, I slap on a touch of make-up then pull on a pair of skinny jeans, a tight black tee shirt and long black boots. I take Harley for a quick walk in the rain and then give him a good rub down with a towel on our return, which he particularly enjoys, but hey who wouldn’t I figure. I give him a few biscuits while I make coffee and grab an apple from the fruit bowl.

  As I munch my way through the apple three separate text messages beep up on my phone one after the other. The first is from James letting me know he will be back on Saturday morning and can I arrange a longer lunch break from work as he has something special planned. Which proves he is attentive I think to myself. A little tingle of excitement shoots through me wondering what he is up to as I text him back to say I will arrange it.

  Next, a message from Robert to say he will be back later this morning and will I feed and walk Harley, so I text him back to say done and done. No word of where he is and I’m certainly not going to ask, not really my business anyway I tell myself. But of course I am dying to know. I’m only human after all.

  Then comes my favourite text from Muriel asking me if I want a bacon bap for breakfast. My face lights up as I read it and I text her straight back to say yes please and I am on my way. I put Harley back in Robert’s room, grab my jacket and bag and go off out to work.

  Later that afternoon I am in the back room of the shop checking through the emails that have come in overnight. We have sold over a thousand pounds worth of stock in the last twenty four hours alone. At this rate I will need to find new sources. I print off the orders ready for packing and reply to a few queries when there’s a tap on the door and I look up to see Muriel’s head popped through the gap.

  ‘There’s a visitor for you,’ she says.

  A sudden panic flushes over me. ‘It’s not my mom is it?’

  ‘No,’ she smiles, and holds the door open. Robert walks in filling the space and making the room look smaller.

  ‘Hi,’ he says.

  ‘Robert, hi,’ I say, shuffling the printed orders together.

  ‘I thought I would drop in and see if I can give you a hand with your renovations.’

  ‘A hand?’ I reply, looking baffled.

  ‘Yes, I’m pretty nifty with a paintbrush.’ He looks down at the desk where five rolls of wallpaper sit that I have purchased off the internet. ‘I could hang that wallpaper for you.’

  ‘Oh, I was going to get a decorator in to do that. I couldn’t ask you…’ I stop aware I have said that to him several times before, always with the same result.

  ‘Come on, I shelved tax returns to come and help you out.’ He smiles, his eyes creasing at the sides, crooked grin and white teeth flashing.

  ‘In that case how can I refuse,’ I say, shuffling some more paperwork to keep my hands busy. ‘But the shop doesn’t close for another half hour, Muriel is going home and I was going to nip out and get a sandwich before she leaves.’

  ‘Tell you what, I’ll go and get sandwiches while you finish up here, then we can make a start on that wallpaper,’ he says, winking at me. It looks as if I will be getting some help tonight whether I want it or not.

  An hour or so later, the shop is closed, Muriel has gone home and I have munched my way through
a tuna melt while Robert has made short work of a chilli chicken wrap.

  ‘Come on then, let’s get this show on the road’ he says, screwing up the wrapper and shooting it into the bin.

  He moves the rails away from the back wall and I drape sheets over the garments to protect them. Once the trestle table is set up and the paste is mixed, Robert measures the first drop of paper. He examines it closely. ‘This is fantastic paper - I bet you didn’t get this from B & Q?’

  ‘No, I found it on the internet, genuine vintage wallpaper.’ I run my hand over the embossed design, a shock of fuchsia flowers standing out on a cream background. ‘I love this paper, it reminds me of some my granddad put up in the living room at the house. My gran loved that room - she sat in there every day.’

  ‘You have a lot of fond memories of your grandparents?’ he says, carefully cutting off the first length ready to paste.

  ‘Yes, I spent a lot of time at their house when I was growing up, and later when gran was ill. My mom was never keen on girls so she used to send me out of the way as much as possible, but I never minded, the more time I got to spend with my grandparents the better as far as I was concerned. Gran always used to find things we could do together. It was her that taught me how to sew and knit, she spent hours patiently sitting with me showing me the stitches, over and over until I got it right. And she gave me my love of fashion. She showed me how to spot good workmanship on garments, examining seams and stitching, quality of buttons, the hang of the fabric,’ I say, it feels like only yesterday that I had sat with her, hanging on to her every word of wisdom.

  ‘In fact, it was thanks to my gran that I started this shop. She gave me my first batch of dresses and skirts and told me where to look to source more. She loved clothes and was always impeccably turned out.’ I smile, thinking about her smoothing her skirts down and plucking off invisible threads.

  ‘Your face really lights up when you talk about them,’ he looks over at me, carefully folding the pasted paper so it won’t tear.

  ‘They were very special people,’ I say, wiping paste from my hands. I still feel very protective of their memories.