by Jill Mansell
‘Listen to me,’ Gabe said firmly, ‘you’re beautiful.’
Savannah shook her head. ‘Not without hair I’m not. My agent told me I looked like a wing nut.’
‘That’s not true. I saw you,’ Gabe insisted. ‘And you didn’t.’
‘You must have caught me at a flattering angle. Trust me, I do.’
‘You don’t.’
In response, Savannah reached up and peeled off her wig. She sat before him on her knees and gazed steadily at him.
How had he not noticed before? Minus the hair, her ears stuck out. She looked exactly like a wing nut. A weary, fearful, deeply ashamed wing nut.
‘See?’ whispered Savannah.
Gabe did the only thing he could possibly do. Reaching forwards, he cupped her damp, tear-stained face between his hands, drew her towards him and kissed her on the mouth.
He’d meant it to be a brief, reassuring kiss but Savannah clung on, wrapping her arms around his neck. Time stood still for Gabe; bloody hell, this was Savannah Hudson he was kissing and now she was the one making sure it carried on. All he’d wanted to do was stop her crying. Then again, he wasn’t going to be the one to pull away…
Finally Savannah did, but only by a couple of inches. Touching his cheek she whispered, ‘Do you really like me?’
‘You’re beautiful. Why wouldn’t anyone like you?’ Gabe stroked her head, as warm and smooth as a new-laid egg.
‘No wedding ring.’ She reached for his left hand, double-checked it was unencumbered. ‘Girlfriend?’
‘No girlfriend.’
‘You’re very good-looking.’
Gabe smiled. ‘Should have seen me before the plastic surgery.’
‘Oh no, you definitely haven’t had that. When it comes to men having plastic surgery, trust me, I’m an expert. Are you really single?’
He nodded. ‘Since just before Christmas.’
‘I haven’t been with anyone for over a year.’ Savannah’s smile was wry. ‘Isn’t that pathetic? My manager says it’s no wonder my hair’s dropped out. But it’s so hard to trust people, you never know what they’re going to do or say. And now with all this business going on…’ she indicated her head, ‘it’s even worse. It just seems like everyone lets you down, they can’t help themselves. Every last one of my exes has done a kiss and tell. In the end you just think it’s easier not to bother.’
‘Right.’ Gabe realized he was still stroking her face. ‘Complicated.’
‘It is complicated. Nothing’s ever straightforward. You have no idea.’
‘My God, I’m glad I’m not a stunning, Oscar-nominated actress.’
Savannah broke into a smile. ‘I’m glad you’re not too.’ Then she kissed him again. Longingly.
And this time it didn’t stop.
***
‘Hey, Gabe, any joy?’
Gabe stopped dead as he emerged from the hotel at nine o’clock the next morning. Lenny, one of the other paparazzi, was leaning against a wall smoking a roll-up and keeping his camera out of sight.
‘What?’ Aware of the eyes of the bellboy on him, Gabe prayed he wasn’t giving himself away.
‘Any sign of Savannah Hudson? She’s meant to be staying here.’ When Gabe hesitated, Lenny said, ‘Isn’t that who you were looking for?’
‘Oh right, I didn’t know.’ His pulse racing, Gabe gestured vaguely behind him. ‘I just called in to use the loo.’
Lenny rolled his eyes and grinned. Gradually Gabe’s heart slowed down. The bellboy, less amused, murmured, ‘Well, don’t do it again.’
Back at Radley Road by nine thirty, Gabe found Sally already ensconced on the sofa with an open packet of biscuits, a pile of magazines and Friends on the TV. It was the one where Rachel discovers Ross’s list of criticisms about her. Rachel, beside herself, was stamping her foot and yelling, ‘You think I’m SPOILED?’
‘Morning, cheap tart.’ Sally greeted Gabe jauntily through a mouthful of chocolate caramel digestive. ‘What time do you call this to crawl home?’
‘I call it time to Sellotape your mouth shut. Don’t do that,’ said Gabe as she flicked biscuit crumbs off her skirt and onto the rug.
‘I’m a poor helpless invalid who can’t even carry a cup of tea. What else am I supposed to do with crumbs? If I leave them on me I’ll just end up sitting on them. And I can’t exactly get the Hoover out. Anyway, don’t change the subject.’ Sally tapped her watch. ‘I still want to know where you’ve been.’
‘What are you, my probation officer?’
‘I’m interested!’
Avid, more like. ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea,’ said Gabe.
In the kitchen he rubbed his face and exhaled slowly. Of course he wanted to tell Sally that he’d spent the night with Savannah Hudson but he wasn’t going to. Nor Lola; neither of them would be finding out about it from him. When Savannah had anxiously asked him if he’d told anyone about their traumatic encounter last week, he’d been able to answer truthfully that no, he hadn’t.
Back in the living room Gabe handed Sally her mug of tea, put the biscuits on a plate and tidied up the slew of books and magazines on the floor.
‘Don’t put them where I can’t reach them.’ Sally’s tone was querulous.
On the TV, Rachel snapped, ‘I do not have chubby ankles.’
The penny finally dropped. Ha, that’s who she reminded him of.
‘You still haven’t told me.’ Sally adjusted the cushions supporting her leg.
‘Lenny and I were working late, staking out the Soho Hotel.’ Gabe shrugged, yawned widely. ‘Waste of time, didn’t get anything. And it was freezing too. In the end we went back to Lenny’s place to thaw out. I crashed out in a chair, woke up at eight o’clock this morning.’
‘Do you know, I almost feel sorry for you.’ Sally gave him a pitying look. ‘You could be in the running for Most Useless Pap on the Planet.’
‘Thank you,’ said Gabe. ‘And to think I was about to make you a bacon sandwich.’
‘The bacon in the fridge? Oh no, you can’t cook that.’
Gabe was both tired and hungry. ‘But that’s why I bought it.’
‘I know, but I promised it to Lola for her dinner party tonight.’ Sally said generously, ‘You can have Weetabix instead.’
Chapter 38
Lola had fulfilled her part of the bargain. Now it was her mother’s turn. Tonight she was hosting a proper grown-up dinner party in her flat and Blythe and Nick—her actual parents!—were jolly well going to be nice to each other.
In fact if all went well, there would be some serious rekindling going on. Even if Blythe had got the wrong end of the stick and exclaimed, ‘Ooh, lovely. Can I invite Malcolm along too?’ Tactfully Lola had been forced to say, ‘Actually, Mum, he might feel a bit awkward. Would you mind if he wasn’t here?’
God, though, cooking proper grown-up food was hard work. She’d been slaving away for ages and there was still heaps to do, never mind getting herself ready and—
Crash went the kitchen door as Sally bashed it open with one of her crutches and came clunking through. ‘Crikey, done enough stuff? I thought there was only five of us.’
‘There is. I hate it when I ask for seconds and there aren’t any, so when I’m cooking for other people I always make… well, quite a lot.’
‘Enough for twenty-five, I’d say.’ Hobble-clunking her way over to the plate of chili-infused king prawns, Sally said, ‘I’d better just check these are all right. Mmm.’ She leaned against the worktop. ‘So, how do I look?’
‘Like someone who hasn’t had anything else to do today except get herself dolled up.’ Pausing with a saucepan of snap peas in one hand and a tray of roast potatoes in the other, Lola said, ‘You look great. I can’t believe you’re wearing that dress. What if you spill
something on it?’
‘It’ll dry-clean.’ Sally patted her favorite pale yellow dress. She had fastened her hair up with silver, crystal-studded combs and her make-up was flawless.
Lola was touched that she’d gone to so much trouble. ‘And you’re not even going to have anyone to flirt with. I should have invited someone nice along for you. Here, at least help yourself to a drink—oh Lord, that can’t be one of them already.’
Sally, already helping herself to wine from the fridge, said cheerfully, ‘You never know, maybe it’s someone gorgeous for me to flirt with.’
She was half right. It was Doug.
Lola’s heart did its usual floppity skip-and-a-jump; he looked even more irresistible when he hadn’t shaved. What she wouldn’t give for a bit of stubble-rash.
‘I called in on Ma earlier and she asked me to drop this off with you.’ He dumped a light blue, leather-trimmed holdall on the table in front of Sally. ‘Apparently you asked her for them. What is it, more clothes?’
‘Better than that.’ Sally clapped her hands and unzipped the holdall. ‘Old photos!’
Lola, busy chopping zucchini, was entranced by the look on Doug’s face. ‘Only you could pick up a bag, wonder what’s in it and not even think to take a sneaky look inside.’ Thinking that this was why she loved him so much—OK, it was one of the many reasons along with the stubble—she went on, ‘If I ever need something smuggled through customs, I’ll know who to ask.’
Dougie shot her a look that suggested he didn’t love her in return, before turning back to Sally. ‘Why did you want them?’
‘Lola’s mum’s bringing loads of photos over tonight to show Lola’s dad. I thought it’d be nice to have some of mine here too, so I could join in. Don’t worry, I won’t pass round any embarrassing ones of you. Well, apart from that one of you naked in a paddling pool with a plastic bucket on your head.’
‘I won’t let her,’ Lola hastily assured him, before Doug could seize the holdall and race off into the night. On an impulse she said, ‘You could stay if you want.’
‘What?’
‘For dinner.’ Adrenaline sloshed through Lola’s body. ‘I’ve made mountains of food. You can see my mum again and meet my dad… the more the merrier, honestly. It’d be great if you were here too.’ Then I can sit next to you and accidentally brush my thigh against yours, we can play footsie under the table, I’ll feed you spoonfuls of chocolate pudding and you’ll realize how perfect we are together—
‘Thanks,’ Dougie cut into her happy fantasy, ‘but I can’t.’
Oh. Unable to hide her disappointment, Lola blurted out, ‘But I’ve made chocolate pudding with real custard!’
He smiled, just slightly, and shook his head. ‘Sorry. I’m seeing Isabel tonight.’
Bring her up here, thought Lola, we can drown her in home-made custard. God knows, we’ve got enough of the stuff.
‘Shall I get that for you?’ Seeing that Lola’s hands were wet, Sally picked up the ringing phone. ‘Hi… no, this is Sally… oh hello, you! Yes thanks, the baby’s fine!’ Beaming, she said, ‘Where are you, still in New York? Oh, right. No, she’s busy cooking, we’re having a dinner party this evening… hey, why don’t you come over? Don’t be daft, of course you can—Lola’s just invited my brother but he’s busy.’ Covering the receiver Sally whispered, ‘That’s all right, isn’t it?’
What else could Lola say? ‘Fine by me.’
Sally hung up a couple of minutes later. ‘There, all sorted. EJ’s on his way.’
‘Great.’ Lola forced a smile because she’d have preferred Dougie.
‘And I’m off.’ Doug took out his car keys and headed for the door. ‘Have a good time.’
‘Damn,’ exclaimed Sally, rummaging through the blue holdall. ‘Did you see him do it?’
Lola was busy frying shallots in butter. ‘Do what?’
‘There was a small dark green photo album in here five minutes ago. And now it’s disappeared. Bloody hell, my rotten sneaky Artful Dodger of a brother has only gone and sodding well half-inched it.’
***
By ten o’clock everyone had eaten as much as they physically could and there had been no culinary disasters. On the surface it seemed like a successful dinner party, buzzy and fun, but as far as Lola was concerned, it wasn’t going according to plan. Nor could she help wondering what EJ was making of it. Gabe, despite being as charming as ever, was definitely distracted and quieter than usual. He’d been checking his watch all evening, as jumpy as a cat. Sally wasn’t behaving normally either; possibly in an attempt to make up for Gabe’s air of distraction she was talking and laughing with that bit more enthusiasm than usual, gesturing vivaciously with her hands as she chatted away, laughing more loudly than usual, and generally behaving like an overexcited teenager in the grip of a girlie crush.
Which was slightly weird, seeing as there wasn’t anyone here for her to have a crush on. Mystified, Lola reached for the jug and poured herself another glug of custard. Unless Sally secretly fancied EJ… crikey, could that be it? Was that possible? When he was wearing those trousers?
Damn, why couldn’t Doug be here now? That would help take her mind off the realization that, across the table, her wonderful plan to get her parents back together wasn’t going according to… er, plan.
It was deeply frustrating, trying to keep an eye on them and listen to what they were saying, but doing it subtly so they didn’t notice.
And now they weren’t even chatting to each other; her mother was talking to EJ and Gabe, while Nick and Sally were trading holiday stories. Honestly, it was as if neither of her parents was even trying.
Chapter 39
‘Do you know what might be helpful?’ said Blythe when Lola tackled her in the kitchen. ‘If you could just stop watching us all the time.’
‘But I can’t help it! I want to watch you!’
‘Well, it makes us feel like two giant pandas in a zoo, with everyone waiting for us to mate.’
‘Mum! Eew!’
Blythe smiled faintly. ‘See? That’s how I feel too.’
‘About Nick? But he’s my father. You were in love with him,’ Lola protested. For heaven’s sake, they’d mated at least once.
‘Twenty-eight years ago,’ Blythe reminded her.
‘And now he’s here again!’ Lola couldn’t understand how her mother could be this uninterested in Nick. For herself, finding Dougie again had brought all the old feelings rushing back stronger than ever. Yet for Blythe it simply wasn’t happening, which was frustrating beyond belief.
‘Look, if your father and I had gone ahead and got married back then, we’d have been divorced by the time you were three. I know that now.’ Blythe went on as Lola opened her mouth to protest. ‘I’m old enough to know it for a fact. Look at your father and look at me.’ She gestured at herself, at her wild red hair and pink glittery blouse, the crinkled leaf-green skirt that so strongly resembled a lettuce. Then, flipping a hand towards the living room, she said dismissively, ‘And there’s him in his trendy clothes, with his hair cut by Gordon Ramsay.’
Startled, Lola said, ‘What?’
‘Oh, you know who I mean.’ Her mother’s tone was scornful. ‘Some celebrity hairdresser chap off the telly. You see, that’s the difference between us, love. Nick went in one direction, I went in the other. Neither of us are the same people we were back then. And now he’s turned into the kind of person who thinks it’s normal to spend a hundred pounds on a haircut. I mean, can you imagine? Talk about a fool and his money soon being parted!’
For heaven’s sake, would you listen to her? ‘Mum, you can’t say that.’
‘I can say anything I like, love.’
‘About me?’ Nick appeared in the doorway, causing Lola to clatter coffee cups into their saucers.
‘About your ha
ir,’ Blythe said cheerfully.
‘Sorry,’ said Lola. ‘My mother’s turning into a bit of a delinquent.’
Nick shrugged. ‘That’s OK, Blythe’s entitled to her opinion about my hair, just as I’m allowed to have an opinion about her skirt. Would you like me to carry that coffee through?’
‘Thanks.’ Lola passed him the tray.
‘Maybe I wore this skirt because I knew it would annoy you.’ Blythe beamed.
Lola said, ‘And maybe you’re about to get a pot of coffee tipped over your head. Could you please be nice to each other or should I put you at opposite ends of the table?’
‘Hey, we’re fine.’ Nick’s tone was reassuring. ‘Just having fun.’
‘Of course we are.’ Giving Lola a conciliatory hug, Blythe said, ‘Don’t take any notice of us. Dinner was gorgeous, by the way. And I do like EJ, very much.’
Lola wondered if Sally did too.
‘He’s a good chap.’ Nodding in agreement, Nick said, ‘Is he wearing those trousers for a bet?’
Back in the living room, Lola poured out the coffee. Gabe drained his in one scalding gulp and jumped to his feet. ‘Right, I’m off to work.’
‘Now?’ Lola said. ‘But it’s nearly midnight.’
‘Colin wants me to get some shots outside Bouji’s. It’s somebody’s birthday there tonight.’
Sally the Queen of OK! magazine said eagerly, ‘Ooh, whose?’
‘Um… can’t remember.’ Combing his hair with his fingers and shrugging on his battered suede jacket, Gabe said his goodbyes, gave Lola a thank-you kiss on the cheek and headed for the door.
‘Um… Gabe?’
He turned, eyebrows registering impatience. ‘Yes?’
Lola cleared her throat. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’
‘What?’ He looked blank.
She pointed to the coffee table behind him. ‘Might help if you took your camera.’
***
‘OK,’ said Lola an hour later when it was only the two of them left. ‘On a scale of one to ten, and I know he’s an older man so it isn’t easy, but how attractive would you say my father is?’
