An Offer You Can't Refuse

by Jill Mansell

  ‘It might be fun. All those celebs,’ Lola said encouragingly. ‘All that fresh air.’

  Gabe hesitated. He really didn’t want to go back to being a chartered surveyor. ‘But you know what I’m like. I wouldn’t recognize half the people I was supposed to be photographing.’

  ‘God, listen to you.’ Sally emerged from her room, her arms loaded with gift-wrapped presents. ‘You old fogey! You don’t say photographing, you say papping.’ Never one to pass up the opportunity to have a dig, she said gleefully, ‘You’ll be playing records next, on your wind-up gramophone, whilst puffing away on a Woodbine.’

  Gabe rolled his eyes. ‘Are you off? Don’t let us keep you.’

  ‘Oh, are you leaving now?’ Lola jumped up; it was seven in the evening and each of them was heading home to spend Christmas day with their families. ‘Are you getting a cab to Barnes? Give everyone my love.’ Well, Dougie. She didn’t want Adele appropriating any of it; more to the point, couldn’t imagine Adele wanting any of her love.

  ‘No, I’m catching the tube to Doug’s then we’re going in his car. If you like,’ Sally told Gabe, ‘you can borrow my magazines and start learning who everyone is.’

  ‘Maybe next week. I’m not spending Christmas doing homework.’

  Doug lived in Kensington. ‘You can’t carry all those presents on the tube by yourself,’ said Lola. ‘Why don’t I give you a hand? Kensington’s practically on the way to Streatham.’

  Sally frowned. ‘But you’ve got loads of stuff to carry too.’

  ‘Less than you have. Wouldn’t it be easier for me to help you?’

  ‘OK, better idea,’ said Sally, ‘how about if I give Doug a call and ask him to come and pick me up. I’ll just say I’ve got too many bags.’ She paused, looked at the expression on Lola’s face. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem fair on him…’

  ‘But he won’t mind!’

  Lola looked doubtful. ‘He might say he doesn’t.’

  ‘Well, I don’t get this.’ Sally shook her head, baffled. ‘I thought you’d have liked the idea of Doug coming over. Don’t say you’ve gone off him.’

  Gabe grinned at her. ‘Are you serious? Try turning it around. The reason Lola doesn’t want your brother driving over is because… hmm, let me think, she’d far rather see where he lives and have a good look around his flat. Because she’s nosy.’

  ‘Is that why?’ Sally turned to Lola, surprised. Lola shrugged evasively; Gabe knew her too well.

  ‘Might be.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake! Why didn’t you just say so, then? What am I, a mind-reader?’ Sally rolled her eyes. ‘Get your coat on and let’s go.’

  Lola didn’t need to be asked twice. Since sobbing all over Dougie the other evening he’d been occupying her thoughts even more than before. He’d been so nice to her and being back in his arms—albeit briefly—had felt so right. She’d been dreaming about those arms. And for the first time she’d seriously begun to wonder if it might be possible to win Dougie back.

  ***

  Doug lived in the ground floor flat of a huge Victorian pillar-fronted house in Onslow Gardens. If Lola thought she’d done pretty well for herself property-wise, his flat was several rungs further up the ladder. Then again, he was a management consultant with a super-successful company he’d built up from scratch; it had to pay well.

  ‘Phew, here we are,’ panted Sally, climbing the white marble steps and ringing the bell with her shoulder.

  ‘I’m feeling so Christmassy! Wouldn’t it be great if it could start to snow now?’ Lola hugged the bags of presents and felt her stomach tighten with excitement. For so many years she’d felt this way about the thought of seeing Father Christmas; now she was feeling it at the prospect of seeing Dougie again.

  What’s more, she’d watched Love, Actually enough times to know that magical things could happen on Christmas Eve. Her cheeks were glowing and her hair was fetchingly tousled. She was wearing her favorite white fluffy scarf. And her mouth was slicked with a subtle but sparkly Guerlain lipstick that looked like pink frost and tasted delicious. If Doug wanted to throw caution to the wind and kiss her, she could guarantee he wouldn’t be disappointed.

  ‘Come on, come on, hurry up,’ Sally urged through chattering teeth.

  Well, he wouldn’t be disappointed if only he’d come and open the door. Checking for CCTV cameras, Lola suppressed the less than welcome thought that Doug could have seen her on his doorstep and was now pretending to be out. He wouldn’t do that, would he? Had he never watched Love, Actually? Didn’t he know how romantic Christmas Eve could be, if only he’d relax into it, let bygones be bygones, and just let fate take its natural course?

  Then the front door opened and there he was, barefoot and wearing a blue and white striped shirt over frayed jeans. Unable to help herself, Lola took a quick intake of breath and began to cough as the ice-cold air hit the back of her throat. One day, one day, she’d learn to be elegant and in control.

  ‘Bloody hell, about time too,’ Sally complained, bustling past him. ‘It’s freezing out there.’

  ‘OK, two things. It’s not even eight o’clock yet. I said to come over at nine.’

  ‘You said eight.’

  ‘Nine. Definitely nine.’

  ‘Oh well, never mind. I’m early!’

  ‘And secondly,’ Doug’s dark eyes narrowed, ‘what’s Lola doing here? Because I’m fairly sure our mother hasn’t invited her to spend Christmas Day with us.’

  Lola’s heart sank. So he hadn’t ever watched Love, Actually.

  ‘Don’t be sarcastic. Lola’s here because she’s doing me a favor,’ said Sally. ‘I had too much stuff to carry so she offered to help me out.’

  ‘See? I’m a nice person really.’ Lola beamed hopefully. ‘And don’t panic, I’m on my way to my mum’s. I just saw that Sal was struggling with all her parcels so I said I’d lend her a hand getting them here.’

  ‘Fine. I’ll take them off you, shall I?’ Having seized the bags containing the presents, Doug stepped back. ‘There we go. Thanks. Have a good Christmas.’

  He was a man. He probably only watched testosterone-fueled, action-packed films like Mission: Impossible and The Great Escape.

  ‘Don’t be so rude,’ Sally exclaimed. ‘Honestly, I’m so ashamed of you sometimes. I was going to ring earlier and ask you to come and pick me up, but Lola said I mustn’t do that, you were far too busy and important to have time to drive over to us, and that she really didn’t mind struggling onto the tube and fighting through the crowds and trudging through the streets…’

  Lola cleared her throat; Sally was getting carried away now.

  ‘Anyway, the least you can do is invite her in for a drink to say thank you.’

  Doug gave her a long-suffering look, then turned and said, ‘Lola, thank you for helping my sister. Won’t you come in for a drink?’

  ‘Doug, that’s so kind of you.’ Checking her watch, Lola broke into a delighted smile. ‘I shouldn’t really, but… oh, go on then. You’ve twisted my arm!’

  The living room was blissfully warm, L-shaped and comfortably furnished. Lola, greedily taking in every detail, noted that Doug—thank God—was neither as chaotically untidy as his sister nor as obsessively neat as Gabe. Charcoal-grey curtains hung at the long sash windows, contrasting with the deep crimson walls. There were magazines beside the sofa, DVDs next to the TV, a dark blue sweater left hanging over the back of a chair, various prints and paintings on the walls, two discarded wine glasses on the coffee table…

  Oh, and a blond in the kitchen doorway. Now there was an accessory she could have happily done without.

  ‘Hi,’ said the blond.

  ‘Hi.’ Lola felt as if she’d just stepped into a lift that wasn’t there.

&
nbsp; ‘Well, well, this is a surprise.’ Sally, never backward in coming forward, said, ‘Who are you?’

  ‘This is Isabel. A friend of mine.’ The way Doug moved towards her was oddly protective, almost as if he was preparing to defend an innocent gazelle from a couple of boisterous lion cubs. ‘Isabel, this is my sister Sally.’ In throwaway fashion he then added, ‘And her friend Lola.’

  Just to make crystal clear to everyone in the room how completely unimportant she was, how utterly irrelevant to his life.

  To compound it, Isabel smiled widely and said, ‘Sally. I’ve heard all about you. Doug’s always talking about you!’

  ‘Is he? He’s kept very quiet about you.’ Sally unwound her lime-green scarf, flung aside her handbag and plonked herself down on the sofa. ‘So, how long have you two known each other?’

  ‘Glass of red?’ Evidently keen to be rid of her ASAP, Doug appeared in front of Lola with the open bottle and a clean glass.

  Talk about brisk. What could she ask for that would spin things out a bit longer?

  ‘Actually, I’d love a coffee.’

  ‘Well, we’ve known each other for ages.’ Across the room, Isabel flipped back her ironed blonde hair and sat down cozily next to Sally. ‘We work together,’ she confided. ‘But we’ve only recently become… you know, closer.’

  It hadn’t been love at first sight then. That was something to be grateful for. Although it would be nice if she could have been a bit less pretty.

  ‘I was seeing someone else,’ Isabel went on, ‘but we broke up. After that, Doug and I just ended up getting together.’

  Lola looked at Doug, sending him a telepathic message: we could do that, you and me…

  ‘Coffee.’ Doug’s tone was brusque; he didn’t appear to be telepathic. ‘Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make it.’

  ‘Actually I’ll come with you.’ Lola flashed him a sunny smile. ‘Then I can make sure you don’t palm me off with instant.’

  As she followed Doug into the kitchen, Isabel was saying cheerily, ‘… and I’m going down to Brighton tonight, to stay with my parents. That’s what Christmas is all about, isn’t it? Mind you, I’m going to miss Doug! I can’t wait to see what he’s bought me. He wouldn’t let me open it tonight.’

  The kitchen was nice, black and white and boasting, among other items, a huge chrome Dualit toaster.

  ‘Still keen on toast, then,’ said Lola.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Inspecting the cupboards. What happened to the Pot Noodles? You used to love Pot Noodles.’

  Exasperated, Doug said, ‘When I was seventeen.’

  ‘I bet you still secretly like them. Once a Pot Noodler, always a Pot Noodler.’ Lola carried on opening and closing drawers and cupboards; finding a secret stash of Hot’n’Spicys would bring her so much joy. ‘I bet you put on a hat and dark glasses, sneak off to some supermarket miles away, praying you won’t bump into anyone you know, and buy up trolley loads at a time. And then you have to smuggle them back to Kensington—imagine the shame if the neighbors found out!’

  ‘Will you stop riffling through my cupboards?’

  ‘Why, am I getting warm?’

  ‘Here, just take your coffee.’ Having sunk the plunger on the cafetière in record time, Doug shoved a small cup into her hands.

  Lola peered into the cup. ‘Bit weak.’

  ‘Too bad. Shall we head back through?’

  ‘What did you buy Isabel for Christmas?’

  Doug looked exasperated. ‘I’m not telling you that.’

  Sally, whose eavesdropping skills were second to none, said, ‘You’re not telling her what?’ when they returned to the living room.

  ‘I was wondering what he’d bought you for Christmas,’ said Lola, ‘that’s all.’

  ‘Anything’s fine by me.’ Sally beamed at Doug. ‘So long as he’s kept the receipt.’

  ‘Oh poor Dougie! I wouldn’t dream of taking back anything he bought me,’ trilled Isabel. ‘Whatever it was.’

  ‘Remember when we bought each other the same CD? Parklife,’ Lola fondly reminisced without thinking. ‘God, we used to play that album non-stop. I can still remember the words to every song.’

  ‘Hang on, you mean you and Doug bought each other the same CD?’ Isabel looked confused. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…’

  Lola shrugged and managed a smile that was both carefree and tinged with regret; it seemed a bit mean to announce that Dougie had been her first love.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Sally said helpfully. ‘They were boyfriend and girlfriend.’

  ‘That was a long time ago,’ Doug cut in. ‘Back in the days when I still ate Pot Noodles. As I was just explaining to Lola,’ he added pointedly, ‘our tastes change over the years.’

  Isabel let out a high-pitched shriek of laughter. ‘You used to like Pot Noodles? Oh my God!’

  Lola was extremely fond of Pot Noodles and felt as protective as a new mother whenever anyone made fun of them. She said evenly, ‘I like Pot Noodles. They’re brilliant. Chicken and Mushroom’s my favorite.’

  Chapter 24

  ‘How are things going with Gabe?’ In order to spare Isabel’s blushes, Doug swiftly changed the subject.

  ‘Hideous.’ Sally shuddered. ‘Talk about persnickety. He’s so gay, just won’t admit it.’

  ‘He’s not gay.’ Lola hadn’t yet managed to convince Sally but she kept saying it anyway. ‘If Gabe was gay, he’d be gay. He’s Jack Lemmon, you’re Walter Matthau, and you drive him insane, that’s all it is. Some people leave tea bags in the kitchen sink,’ she told Doug, because there were times when you couldn’t help feeling sorry for Gabe. ‘Yesterday your sister left hers on the coffee table.’

  Sally shrugged. ‘Not on purpose. Only because I hadn’t realized it was still in my mug.’

  Lola had been making her coffee last as long as possible. Finally she was down to the lukewarm grounds.

  ‘Finished? Good.’ Doug whisked away her cup, clearly keen to see the back of her.

  Which—and here was her optimism rushing to the fore again—could mean that her presence was disturbing him in a good way.

  ‘Could I use your bathroom before I go?’ It was freezing out there; even Doug couldn’t banish her and her bursting bladder to the vagaries of the great outdoors, surely?

  Although he looked as if he’d quite like to.

  ‘Out in the hall. Second door on the left.’

  It was actually a tricky exercise, walking the length of the living room in a natural manner, super-aware of Dougie’s eyes upon her. What was he really thinking? Was he mentally comparing her with Isabel? Come to that, how did she compare with Isabel? Her rival—the rival she hadn’t known existed before now—was a cool sleek blonde with high-maintenance hair and a hint of the ice princess about her. She was probably more classically beautiful but was she as much fun? Pretty was all very well but Lola felt she might have the edge when it came to character. She was the playful spaniel whereas Isabel was more of a pampered feline; Isabel was Grace Kelly while she was Doris Day; Isabel had the kind of high-pitched laugh that could easily start to get on a man’s nerves after a—

  ‘I said second door on the left.’ Out in the hall Doug’s voice behind Lola made her jump. ‘That’s the second on the right.’

  But he was a split second too late; she’d already opened the door and walked into his bedroom.

  Bingo!

  ‘Sorry. I’m always getting my left and right mixed up. Wow, this is nice!’ Taking another step into the room, she drank in the burnt-orange walls, the duvet and pillowcases in bitter chocolate, the polished oak floorboards and mahogany furniture. This was where Doug slept, this was his bed. Lola did her best to picture him in it, except there was one small but vitally important detail missing. She c
ouldn’t see any pajamas, but… ‘Do you still sleep naked?’

  There, she’d said it.

  Doug shook his head. ‘You don’t change, do you?’

  Oh well. She shrugged. ‘I like to know these things.’

  ‘Even though “these things” aren’t any of your business?’

  But he wasn’t sounding entirely pissed off. Encouraged, Lola said innocently, ‘I just wondered if you’d turned into the kind of man who wears stripy cotton pajamas all buttoned up to the neck, like Kenneth Williams in Carry On Nurse.’

  His mouth twitched. ‘Oh yes, that’s me. That’s what I wear.’

  ‘You don’t.’

  ‘I definitely do.’

  ‘You still sleep naked.’ Lola exhaled with relief; now she was able to picture him in his king-sized bed. Even better, ice queen Isabel wasn’t in there with him.

  Hmm, ice queens probably had cold feet.

  ‘OK, you’ve had your snoop around,’ said Doug. ‘Now I’ll show you where the bathroom is.’

  She couldn’t help herself; the question was bubbling up. ‘Do you really like her?’

  ‘Do I really like who?’

  ‘Isabel.’

  As he steered her out of the bedroom and pointed her in the direction of the door opposite, Doug said, ‘Again, not actually any of your business. But if it helps,’ he paused, causing Lola’s heart to expand with hope, ‘then I suppose I’d have to say yes, I do.’

  The pause had been deliberate. He knew exactly why she was asking and now he was getting his own back. Recklessly Lola said, ‘Is sleeping with her as much fun as it was with me?’

  There, there was that flicker again. God, she loved that flicker behind the eyes.

  ‘Lola, you’re talking about ten years ago. I don’t even remember what sleeping with you was like.’

  Which, if she’d believed him, might have counted as a put-down. Luckily Lola didn’t for a minute.

  ‘You know what I think? I think I must be having an effect on you if you’re having to say stuff like that.’ There was a warm glow in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with needing the loo. With a playful smile Lola said, ‘Because I know you’re lying now. I remember every detail of every minute of every time with you, Dougie. And I still will when I’m ninety. Because it was the most important thing in the world to me. It meant everything. And I know you remember it too.’