An Offer You Can't Refuse

by Jill Mansell

  Of course it seemed ridiculous now, but just for a while back there it had crossed her mind to wonder if it could have been Doug.

  The blond receptionist raised oh-so-polite, perfectly sculptured eyebrows as Lola sashayed past the desk. ‘Better now, madam?’

  The receptionist who was so perfect, naturally, that she’d never been to the loo in her life.

  Lola nodded and beamed at her. ‘Yes thanks. Much.’

  Chapter 56

  The woman placing the order rested threadbare elbows on the counter and said, ‘It’s the most marvelous book, you know. Called When Miss Denby went to Devon. By Fidelma Barlow. Have you heard of it?’

  ‘Sorry, no, that one’s passed me by.’ Lola typed the details into the computer.

  ‘Oh, it’s unputdownable, an absolute joy! I can’t understand why it isn’t a Sunday Times bestseller. It deserves to be made into a film!’ The woman nodded enthusiastically. ‘Miss Denby would be a wonderful role for Dame Judi Dench.’

  Lola checked the screen. ‘Okaaay, yes, we can get that for you by Friday.’

  ‘Lovely!’ The woman’s face lit up. ‘Can I order fifty copies please?’

  ‘Fifty! Gosh.’ Maybe it was for a book club. Hesitating for a moment, Lola said, ‘You have to pay for them in advance, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Oh no, it’s OK.’ The woman shook her head. ‘I don’t want to pay for them.’

  ‘I know it’s a lot of money. But somebody has to.’

  ‘But not me! I just want you to put them on the shelves. Make a nice display like you do with the Richard and Judy books. Right at the front of the shop,’ the woman said helpfully, ‘so that people will buy them.’

  By the time Lola had finished explaining the niceties of stock ordering to a disappointed Fidelma Barlow, it was almost eight o’clock, kicking out time. Fidelma, shoulders drooping, left the shop. Lola, who knew just how she felt, dispiritedly straightened a pile of bookmarks and wondered if she could bear to go along to the party tonight that Tim and Darren had invited her to… except she already knew she couldn’t, which meant she was now going to have to come up with a convincing reason why not.

  The next moment she looked up and almost fell over. There, standing six feet away like an honest-to-goodness mirage, was Doug.

  Lola’s heart, which never listened to her head and hadn’t yet learned to stop hoping, went into instantaneous clattery overdrive.

  ‘Hello.’ She clutched the computer for support. ‘What’s this? Is my mum on the telly again?’

  Doug smiled slightly. ‘No.’

  ‘My dad then? On Crimewatch?’

  ‘Haven’t spotted him on Crimewatch. Maybe he was the one in the balaclava.’ Tilting his head, Doug said, ‘But you’re half right. I am here because of your dad.’

  ‘You are?’ She hadn’t been expecting him to say that.

  ‘We had a chat on Saturday night.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘He didn’t mention it? OK, obviously not. Well, we were at the Savoy.’

  Lola boggled. ‘My dad was there?’ So that was why his mobile had been switched off. And to think he could have come along to the cinema with her instead.

  ‘Well, we didn’t communicate by telepathy. He spoke to me about you. Quite forcefully, in fact.’ Doug paused, then glanced over at a nervously hovering Darren who was waiting to empty the till. ‘Sorry, could you just give us a couple of minutes?’

  ‘Um, but I need to get the—’

  ‘Darren?’ Lola murmured the word out of the corner of her mouth. ‘Go away.’

  ‘OK.’ Defeated, Darren slunk off.

  ‘I was watching you with that woman just now. The one who wanted you to stock her book,’ said Doug. ‘You were really nice to her.’

  ‘That’s because I’m a really nice person. Believe it or not. And you were eavesdropping.’

  ‘Not eavesdropping. Listening. Like I listened to your dad on Saturday night.’ He waited, gazing directly into Lola’s eyes. ‘I know why you took that money when my mother offered it to you.’

  ‘What?’ Lola felt as if all the air had been vacuumed out of her lungs. How could he know that? It wasn’t physically possible; it just wasn’t.

  Doug gave an infinitesimal shrug. ‘OK, I don’t know exactly why. But I do know it didn’t have anything to do with a Jeep.’

  ‘How? Why not?’ Anxiety was now skittering around inside Lola’s stomach like a squirrel.

  ‘Because you told me you could never tell me the reason you needed the money. And that’s what you said to your father too.’ Doug tilted an eyebrow at her. ‘But if the Jeep story was true, there’s no reason why you couldn’t have told us that. Therefore it stands to reason that it wasn’t.’

  Lola felt dizzy. This was like being cross-examined on the witness stand by a barrister a zillion times cleverer than you. In fact this might be a good moment to faint.

  ‘So basically,’ Doug continued, ‘you needed the money for something that meant far more to you than a Jeep. It was also something you were determined your mother was never to find out about.’ Pause. ‘Well, there was only one other person on the planet who was that important to you back then.’ Another longer pause. ‘And that was your stepfather Alex.’

  Lola’s eyes filled with tears. She blinked and realized the shop was empty. No customers, no staff. Everyone had gone, miraculously disappeared. Thank God.

  ‘I can’t tell you.’ Helplessly she shook her head. ‘I just can’t. I made a promise.’

  ‘That’s OK, I’m not asking you to. No digging.’ Doug’s voice softened. ‘I know who you did it for. I don’t need to know why. I didn’t understand before, but I do now. That’s enough. It’s all in the past.’

  Was this how Catholics felt when they were absolved of all sin and forgiven by God? Lola, who hated crying in front of people but seemed to have been doing a lot of it lately, could feel the tears rolling faster and faster down her face. She couldn’t speak, only nod in a hopeless, all-over-the-place, nodding-doggy kind of way.

  ‘You know, you’ve been pretty lucky as far as fathers go. First Alex, now Nick. He’s so proud of you,’ said Doug.

  For heaven’s sake, how was she supposed to stop crying if he was going to come out with stuff like this? Blindly Lola nodded again and wiped her sleeve across her wet cheeks.

  ‘And he certainly made me think,’ Doug went on, ‘when he told me I’d missed my chance with you.’

  ‘He really said that?’ Lola sniffed hard. This was the thing she’d forgotten about fathers; how much they loved to embarrass their daughters in public.

  ‘And the rest. As if it hasn’t been hard enough these past few months, reminding myself why I should be steering clear of you. Then along comes your father giving me all sorts of grief, then explaining to me why I should think again. That knocked me for six, I can tell you.’

  As if it hadn’t been hard enough these past few months? Slowly, desperate not to be getting this wrong, Lola said, ‘So that night when you first saw me again at your mother’s house… does that mean you didn’t hate me after all?’

  ‘Oh yes I did. With all my heart. Absolutely and totally.’ Doug half smiled, causing her heart to lollop. ‘But at the same time the old feelings were still there as well, refusing to go away. Like you were refusing to go away. It drove me insane having you back in my life, because I wasn’t able to control the way I felt about you. I wanted to be indifferent, to see you and feel nothing. But I just couldn’t. It wouldn’t happen.’ He tapped his temple. ‘You were in here, whether I liked it or not.’

  Lola was trembling now, almost but not quite sure that his coming here tonight was a very good thing. ‘Like a tapeworm.’

  He looked amused. ‘You always did have a way with words.’

  ‘Oh Dougie, all t
his time you’ve been hating me, I’ve been trying my best to change your mind.’ The words came tumbling out in a rush. ‘In the end I just had to give up, told myself to stop before I made a complete prat of myself… except I already had, over and over again…’

  ‘I quite enjoyed those bits. I think watching you try to play badminton was my favorite.’ He grinned, moved closer to the counter. ‘I waited in the bar afterwards, but you didn’t turn up.’

  ‘In case you accused me of stalking you again.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I haven’t behaved very well either.’ Ruefully Doug said, ‘I’ve lied to you, for a start.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘The photos of us when we were young. Of course I kept them. They’re at home, hidden away in a cupboard,’ he said eyes glinting, ‘along with my secret stash of Pot Noodles.’

  ‘I knew it!’ Triumphantly Lola said, ‘Once a Pot Noodler, always a Pot Noodler. Did Isabel know about this?’

  Ach, Isabel…

  ‘What’s wrong?’ said Doug when she winced.

  ‘Isabel. Your girlfriend.’

  He relaxed. ‘She isn’t my girlfriend. I finished with her weeks ago. On the night of your dinner party, in fact.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I smuggled away the photo album. By the time I’d finished looking through the old photos of us, I realized Isabel couldn’t compete. I told her I couldn’t see her any more and she handed in her notice.’

  ‘Poor Isabel.’ Lola did her best to sound as if she meant it.

  ‘I gave her a great reference. She’s working in Hong Kong now.’ Dougie moved towards Lola. ‘You don’t know how close I came to ringing you that night.’

  Lola remembered the wrong number and her reaction when the phone had begun to ring. ‘I wanted you to. So much. Oh Dougie… ’ It was no good; having a counter between them wasn’t helping at all. She came out from behind it and threw herself into his arms.

  Oh yes, this was where she was meant to be. It was all she’d ever wanted. As he kissed her—at last—she knew everything was going to be all right.

  Despite the odd potential drawback.

  When he’d finished kissing her, Dougie smiled and said, ‘What are you thinking?’

  ‘That this is one of the happiest moments of my life.’ Lola stroked his hair. ‘And that your mother’s going to be absolutely furious when she hears about this.’

  ‘Don’t worry about my mother. After Dad died, she became overprotective of us. When she made you that offer she thought she was doing the right thing. But it’s OK, I’ve had a chat with her. All she wants is for me to be happy, and she accepts that now. She’ll be fine.’

  God, he was a heavenly kisser; no one else even came close. And there was so much more fantastic stuff to look forward to. Double-checking that they were safely out of sight—the lights were still on in the store but from here no one walking past in the street could see them—Lola allowed her hands to start wandering in an adventurous fashion.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘What I’ve been wanting to do for a long, long time.’ She smiled playfully up at him. ‘Ever got intimate in a bookshop before?’

  Doug surveyed her with amusement. ‘Is that a dare? Are you trying to shock me?’

  Lola gazed into his dark eyes. Then, slowly and deliberately, she reached out and unfastened his belt.

  ‘Shouldn’t do that,’ Dougie murmured, ‘unless you’re sure you’ve got the nerve to go through with it. From start to finish.’ He trailed an index finger down her chest until he came to the top button of her shirt. It came undone, exposing the top of her lacy lilac bra.

  ‘Are you calling me chicken?’ Lola retaliated by pulling his shirt out of his trousers.

  ‘I think you might lose your nerve.’ Deftly he undid the next button on her shirt.

  Trembling now, Lola struggled with the fastening on his trousers. ‘I think you know me better than that. If I say I’m going to do something, I’ll—aaarrgh!’

  ‘Lola?’ The door at the back of the shop opened and Tim poked his head round. ‘Oh sorry!’ His eyes popped as he realized what he was interrupting.

  ‘I thought you’d all left!’ Flustered, Lola clapped both hands over her exposed bra.

  ‘Everyone else has. I’m just off now. I wondered if you’d made up your mind yet about coming along to the party.’

  Hmm, have sex with Dougie or go to a party with Tim and Darren. That was a tricky one.

  ‘Um… I don’t think so, Tim. But thanks anyway.’

  ‘OK.’ Hardly knowing where to look, Tim backed away. ‘Well, have a… nice time.’

  Lola nodded and somehow managed to keep a straight face. When the door had closed behind Tim, she looked at Dougie and said, ‘OK, now I’ve lost my nerve.’

  ‘Thank God for that.’ Doug smiled his crooked smile and tucked his shirt back into his trousers.

  ‘So, your flat or mine?’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘I have Pot Noodles.’

  Giddy with joy, Lola made herself decent. ‘That settles it then. A nice time followed by Pot Noodles.’

  Dougie put his arm around her. ‘Who could ask for more?’

  From

  miranda’s big mistake

  Miranda’s eyes darted around the room. Maybe it was time to leg it, just get out before he had a chance to make an embarrassing scene. But there was no sign of Bev either.

  ‘Adrian’s going to be back any second,’ she muttered.

  ‘In that case,’ Greg seized her clammy fingers in his cool ones, ‘we’d better hide.’

  He led her out on to the balcony, shielded from the room by a heavy curtain. Below them, the wet streets glittered in the reflected lamplight. Much to Miranda’s relief, it had stopped raining and the wind had dropped.

  ‘What about Bev?’ she protested. ‘She’ll wonder where we are.’

  ‘I’ve spent the last thirty minutes talking to Bev. I’ve done my duty,’ said Greg. ‘Now I want to swap.’

  Miranda watched a man on the pavement across the street, taking a furtive pee up against a pillar-box. In Belgravia, imagine.

  ‘Is that fair?’

  ‘I think it’s fair.’ Greg turned her sideways to look at him. ‘I didn’t just get the Top of the Pops and Boy George stories; I’ve had the “aren’t-babies-wonderful” spiel as well.’

  Honestly, thought Miranda, how many times have I told her not to do that?

  ‘And I don’t happen to think they are,’ he went on, his smile crooked. ‘Anyway, I’d much rather talk to you.’

  He had dark-blond hair—natural, she noted automatically—and laughing grey eyes and a really nice mouth. Feeling her stomach go a bit squirmy, Miranda realized how attractive he actually was.

  ‘I’m not really an actress,’ she said.

  ‘I gathered that.’

  ‘I only said I was because––’

  ‘It’s okay, I know why you did it.’

  ‘Elizabeth Turnbull’s my next-door neighbor. You made her cry.’

  ‘Now I feel terrible. I’m sorry, I know we didn’t behave very well. But it was more Adrian than me.’

  ‘He’s going to be wondering what happened to you.’

  ‘Adrian can talk babies with Bev. Serve him right for upsetting your neighbor. So who are you really?’

  ‘Nobody.’ Miranda was unrepentant. ‘A trainee hairdresser.’

  ‘That explains the hair.’ Reaching up, he touched the feathery dark-blue tendrils at the nape of her neck. ‘I like it.’

  Miranda shivered. She liked it too. Things were beginning to hot up here.

  ‘How about you, what do you do?’ It wasn’t exactly sparkling repartee, but time was short and she wanted to know.

  ‘So
mething extremely boring. Insurance. You have my permission to yawn.’

  ‘Are you single?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Greg smiled. ‘Are you?’

  That smile. Those teeth. Plus, a thrillingly fit-looking body. Barely able to stop her knees knocking with excitement, Miranda nodded.

  ‘In that case,’ he took a pen out of his inside pocket, swiftly uncapping it, ‘why don’t you give me your phone number?’

  God, I love a fast worker, thought Miranda.

  She took the pen and waited.

  ‘Paper?’

  Greg shook his head.

  ‘Haven’t got any on me. Here, write on my hand. No, better make that my arm.’ He began to fumble with a cuff link. ‘We don’t want to upset Adrian.’

  Miranda, experiencing a brief pang of guilt, said, ‘Or Bev.’

  The next moment they both jumped at the sound of an aggrieved voice on the other side of the curtain.

  ‘They can’t have gone, they must be around here somewhere.’

  Miranda froze. She heard Bev say, plaintively, ‘But I’ve already looked in the bathroom.’

  ‘Okay, ask that chap if he’s seen your friend. Tell him you’re looking for the girl with the blue hair.’

  In the darkness, Greg was still struggling to unfasten his cuff link.

  Too slow, too slow, Miranda thought frantically.

  Grabbing the front of his shirt, she wrenched it open and began scrawling her phone number across his chest.

  Available Now

  From

  millie’s fling

  Orla flew into the sitting room, returning moments later with a copy of her latest paperback. Holding it face-out, so Millie could see the instantly recognizable cover, she said, ‘See this? It’s an Orla Hart blockbuster. Actually, it’s the thirteenth Orla Hart blockbuster, and so far we’ve sold one and a half million copies. Which is fantastic, of course, for both me and my publishers. Because as far as they’re concerned, I’m their star battery chicken. Every year they take it for granted that I’ll just churn out another book.’