by Jill Mansell
‘No. But that’s the thing, it would never get to that stage. We aren’t going to let it happen because there wouldn’t be any point.’
‘And there wouldn’t be any point because . . .?’
Lara said steadily, ‘Because we both know there’s never going to be any sex.’
‘Right.’ Pause. ‘To be fair, I’ve only just found this out.’ Apparently no longer sure what to do with his hands, Flynn stuck them in his trouser pockets.
‘You haven’t. I told you before.’
‘I didn’t realise you meant never. As in, never ever.’
‘Oh. Well, I did. I wasn’t just playing hard to get.’ Lara shook her head impatiently; had he really thought that? ‘If this whole co-parenting thing’s going to work, it’s the only way.’
‘Right. And no way of changing your mind?’
‘No!’
‘Thought not.’
Lara relaxed; everything was going to be OK. ‘Hey, cheer up. Want to hear the good news?’
Flynn exhaled. ‘Go for it.’
‘Like mother, like daughter. Once Gigi decides not to do something, she doesn’t give in. That’s how I know we don’t have to worry about her tonight.’
‘Hmm.’
‘You should be pleased.’
‘I’m pleased about that part of it.’ His tone indicated that as far as the other aspect was concerned, not so much.
‘Look, I’m right and you know I am. Anyway,’ Lara glanced again at her watch, ‘I’m meeting Harry and he hates it if I’m late. So I need to jump in the shower.’ She led the way out to the hall and opened the front door. ‘But thanks for everything.’
Flynn said drily, ‘Don’t mention it.’
Was she doing a good job? Lara thought she was. ‘And no worrying about Gigi; she can look after herself.’ Mischievously she added, ‘Like I said, I taught her well.’
‘You’re late,’ said Harry when Lara arrived at the pub.
‘Not by much though. Only ten minutes. Come here, Grumpy.’ Lara gave him the monster hug she hadn’t had the opportunity to bestow yesterday. ‘I can’t believe what’s been happening to you. It’s the weirdest thing ever.’
‘Tell me about it.’ Harry smiled his deprecating, lopsided smile. ‘I’m spending a fortnight with someone whose music makes my ears bleed. Half the time I need subtitles to understand what he’s saying. He’s like a spoiled child who always has to get his own way and when he takes his socks off he throws them “in the trash” because he never wears the same pair twice.’
‘Wow. Are they cheap socks?’
‘What do you think? Cashmere.’
‘But you’re having an adventure. It’s brilliant.’ Last night at the house Enjay had been the centre of attention; it was nice to have the opportunity to talk properly now. ‘And how’s it going with Moira? She didn’t mind you doing this?’ Moira, who ran a health food shop in Keswick, was Harry’s girlfriend, although you wouldn’t call it the romance of the year. Moira was an earnest character with unfortunate ears and a tendency to bang on about healthy eating. For someone so obsessed with wholegrains, mineral supplements and leafy green vegetables, it was ironic that she looked as if she’d spent the last decade living underground.
‘We decided to call it a day.’ Harry didn’t sound bothered. ‘It wasn’t working out. To be honest, it’s a relief not to have to swallow all those horse pills any more.’
‘So you aren’t sad?’
‘I’m not sad.’
‘That’s good then. She was a bit scary sometimes.’ Lara had done her best to be friendly, but when she’d once eaten three chocolate digestives on the trot, Moira had fixed her with a beady, mascara-free gaze and said, ‘If you clog your arteries up, you’re just going to have a heart attack and die.’
Which was always nice to hear.
‘She could be a bit intense.’ Harry was a gentleman who would never say anything mean about a girlfriend. ‘Anyway, not a problem now. And how’s it going with Flynn?’
‘Brilliant. You saw Gigi last night,’ said Lara. ‘She loves him.’
‘How about you?’
‘I don’t love him. And I’m not going to love him. Because that would make things too complicated for words.’
Harry said, ‘I saw the way he was looking at you. When he wasn’t busy glaring at Enjay.’
OK, if even Harry had noticed, it had to be blindingly obvious.
‘I’m being mature and sensible.’ Lara employed her best mature-and-sensible face.
He nodded sympathetically. ‘Good for you. Hard work?’
‘Killing me.’ Harry was the one person she could admit it to. ‘But I’m going to stick with it.’
‘You’ll be fine.’
‘Flynn’s worried about Enjay trying it on with Gigi tonight.’
‘Well, he will. He can’t help himself, he tries it on with practically every female who crosses his path. But she can say no. I did have a few words with him myself.’ Harry grimaced. ‘But it’s like trying to tell a wasp to keep away from the jam.’
‘She’ll be OK. Anyway,’ said Lara, ‘how’s Nettie? She always tells me everything’s fine when we’re on the phone, but I hope she’s not lonely. Do you think she misses us?’
‘I saw her at the market last week and she was on top form. And there’s been a bit of gossip going around,’ said Harry. ‘Betty told me about it. Apparently Nettie’s been spending some time with Fred Milton.’
‘Fred? She kept quiet about that! I told her she should get together with Fred and she pretended not to be interested! You know what?’ Lara spread her arms. ‘I’m brilliant. I should be one of those professional fixer-uppers. That’s so good to hear, though. Such a relief. I was worried she might be miserable on her own.’
‘I asked her if she was missing you,’ said Harry. ‘She thought that was hilarious and said she was having the time of her life. Ow, what was that for?’
‘Because you’re not being very diplomatic. I’m glad Nettie’s happy,’ said Lara, ‘but it would be nice if you could pretend she’s missing us a little bit at least.’
‘You know something? You’re quite a girl. I had fun tonight.’
The words, spoken in that intimate American drawl, were designed to seduce. Gigi knew it and he knew it too. The weird thing was, she was going to laugh at him and turn him down, but secretly it felt really nice. Enjay had the knack of concentrating all his attention on you and making you feel . . . special. She’d enjoyed herself this evening. Floating in the steaming spa baths on the roof overlooking the city had been an amazing experience, doing it in the company of EnjaySeven even more so. He’d been funny and charming, and the sight of him in his board shorts had been . . . well, spectacular, basically. Enjay had the kind of toned, muscular body you could just gaze and gaze at.
Not that she had, of course. She’d called him flabby and done handstands in the water and sung country and western songs deliberately off-key to make him wince.
‘I had fun too.’ Gigi began to sing in a quavering Tammy Wynette-style voice, ‘Oh mah kids all have nits an’ mah bikini’s cheap, Next man Ah marry, Ah’ll look ’fore Ah leeeeeap . . .’
‘You’re crazy. Cute but crazy.’
‘Don’t forget intelligent,’ said Gigi.
They were standing on the pavement beside the Maybach. Enjay reached out and touched her cheek. ‘D’you know what I hate about me?’
‘Tell me.’ His fingers were cool. She loved the way his skin gleamed in the dim light from the street lamp. And how were his teeth so white? Even Simon Cowell’s teeth weren’t as white as that.
‘I have principles,’ Enjay murmured. ‘I’m a man of my word. I want to kiss you, but I promised your father I’d treat you with respect.’ He exhaled regretfully. ‘Man, I wish I hadn’t now.’
‘He’s just being protective.’ Gigi smiled; she’d teased Flynn about it earlier, but having him there defending her had actually felt fantastic.
‘And Harry gave me
a hard time about it too. Well, in his own way.’
Oh bless him. She loved Harry and his morals and his gentle manner; he would have said it so politely as well.
‘What makes you think I’d want to kiss you anyway? I’m eighteen. You’re twenty-eight. That’s ancient.’
‘Hey, girl.’ The white teeth flashed. ‘I’m EnjaySeven. All the girls want me.’
‘But doesn’t that feel kind of horrible? That means they don’t care what you’re really like, deep down. They’ll chase after you anyway just because you’re famous.’
Enjay shrugged. ‘And why would that bother me?’
He was like Joey in Friends. He had no deep-down. As long as he was being chased by girls, Gigi realised, that was all that mattered. Their personalities were irrelevant.
‘Well, I don’t want you.’
‘You’re just saying that.’
‘Because it’s the truth,’ Gigi said patiently. ‘It’s interesting talking to you because I’ve never met anyone like you before. But you’re so old. All the boys I’ve kissed have been teenagers. It’d be like if you had to kiss a woman ten years older than you—’
‘Evening!’
‘Oh hi.’ It was their neighbour, Jacqueline Cumiskey, pulling up in her lime-green Fiesta after a night out and greeting Gigi with a cheery wave through the driver’s open window. Jacqueline’s dark eyes widened as she saw Enjay and realised who he was.
‘You mean like her?’ Enjay murmured under his breath. ‘I could kiss her right now. And I bet she wouldn’t object.’
‘She might,’ said Gigi. ‘She has a fiancé. Anyway, don’t even think about it. You have to go back to the hotel.’ Just to make sure, she pushed him into the car before he could race over to Jacqueline and give her the shock of her life. ‘I need to be up early tomorrow. Night.’
Enjay winked at her as the ever-discreet Maz restarted the engine. ‘OK, bossy girl. But can I just say something?’ Reaching for her hand and raising it to his lips – the contact sent a tingle up her arm – he said, ‘I bet you dream about me tonight.’
‘Goodness. He’s a bit flirty,’ said Jacqueline when the Maybach had disappeared down the street.
‘He is.’
‘Sounds quite confident.’
‘Or you could call it full of himself.’
‘So what’s he doing here, then? How do you know him?’
‘He’s just a friend of a friend,’ said Gigi.
Jacqueline raked her scarlet manicured nails through her hair. ‘He’s very attractive.’
Oh crikey, had she overheard Enjay’s comments? This was what it was like to be him. Gigi said, ‘I think you’re probably safer with the one you’ve already got.’
Sometimes working in a jewellers broke your heart. Either in a good way or a bad way. Yesterday a young engaged couple had spent over an hour choosing a bracelet for the girl’s mother; money was tight but they wanted to find her the perfect thank-you gift in return for all her help arranging their upcoming wedding. Torn between two, the couple had finally chosen the more expensive bracelet and decided to carry on cycling into work rather than buy a car. The boy said, ‘She’s worth it though. She’s the best mother-in-law anyone could wish for.’ Then his fiancée had confided in Don and Lara that her mum had had a riding accident ten years ago and was now confined to a wheelchair. Lara had had to work hard to swallow the lump in her throat as, hand in hand, they left the shop.
And then there was the other kind of heartbreak, the kind that made her feel like a priest hearing confession from someone she wasn’t allowed to punish.
‘So you can do that, can you?’ The man was in his late forties, red-faced and full of bluster. The diamond ring he’d brought in was an almost flawless four-carat solitaire.
‘You want us to remove the diamond and replace it with cubic zirconium.’ Even if he hadn’t looked like a pig in a too-tight suit, Lara knew she wouldn’t have liked him. His temples were shiny with sweat, and his manner shifty beneath the brusque exterior. ‘We’d need proof, I’m afraid, that this ring belongs to you.’
‘It’s an heirloom from my side of the family, so I don’t have a receipt for it. My wife’s worn it for the last twenty years. But Mr Temple’s seen it before.’ The man indicated Don, out in the back room. ‘She brought it in here to get it resized not long ago.’
Don came through, examined the ring and nodded. ‘Yes, yes. Mrs Barrowman, I remember. It’s a beautiful ring.’
‘I want you to sell the diamond for me. How much d’you reckon it’ll fetch?’
‘Thirty-five, possibly forty thousand,’ said Don.
‘Fine, do it.’ The man pulled out a handkerchief and blotted his damp face. ‘Quick as you like. And my wife doesn’t need to know about any of this, you understand. I told her the stone was loose so she thinks you’re replacing the claws.’
‘But—’
‘She’ll get her ring back and she won’t know any difference.’
‘If that’s what you want,’ said Don, and the man’s jaw tightened.
‘If I didn’t want it I wouldn’t be here, would I? Just sort it out. I’ll give you my bank details so you can transfer the money into my account as soon as it’s done.’
‘These things happen in this business,’ said Don when the man had left. ‘You know that.’
‘But his poor wife. It’s such a horrible thing to do to her.’
‘It might not be. He might hate the fact that he’s having to do it. She could have cancer and it’s the only way he can raise the money for her treatment.’
Which would be preferable – to have cancer and a loving husband prepared to do anything he could to help? Or no cancer and a husband who was a complete bastard?
‘You’re such an optimist,’ said Lara.
‘Or their son’s in terrible trouble and he can’t bear for his wife to find out, the shock would kill her, but this way maybe they can sort it out and she’ll never need to know.’
‘OK, optimism’s one thing. Now you’re deluded.’
‘You mustn’t automatically think the worst of a person.’ Don pointed out of the window. ‘For instance, some people might look at that fellow across the street there and assume he was some kind of drug-dealing gangster, but I’d like to think he’s worked hard for that fancy car of his.’
Over the road, a skinny, pasty-skinned, tattooed man in jeans and a T-shirt was climbing out of a red Lamborghini parked on double yellows.
Lara said, ‘He has a face for Crimewatch. Look at that scar on his cheek.’
As they watched, the man dived into the greengrocers, emerging thirty seconds later with a cauliflower and a bag of leeks.
‘See? He’s just normal.’ Don nodded, satisfied with his judgement.
‘Even drugs barons need their five a day,’ said Lara as the Lamborghini roared back to life and went screeching off up the road, scattering tourists in its wake.
‘Appearances can be deceptive.’ The next moment Don paled visibly and gasped, ‘Oh dear God, they’ve got guns, don’t let them in, press the panic button . . . PRESS IT . . .’
The light through the glass door had been temporarily blocked out by the twin man-mountains that were Maz and AJ peering in. Maz was clutching something long and narrow, rolled up in a plastic bag. Behind him, waiting for the shop to be declared safe to enter, Enjay was wearing a beanie hat and mirrored shades.
‘It’s OK, don’t worry, it’s Enjay and his minders.’ Lara hurriedly pulled out a chair and helped Don on to it before he could collapse in a grey heap on the floor. So much for first impressions. She buzzed the door open and they pushed their way in.
‘Hi, this is Don. You frightened the living daylights out of him.’
‘Oh sorry. Did you think we was gonna rob you?’ Maz saw them looking at the wrapped-up shotgun clasped in his enormous hand and said apologetically, ‘My momma always tells me off for lookin’ scary. Don’ worry, it ain’t a gun.’ He unwrapped the package to show them. ‘Weather f
orecast was sayin’ it might rain later so Enjay wanted to buy an umbrella. He don’ like his hair gettin’ all wet.’
‘Doesn’t he? Me neither. Nightmare!’ Fanning himself and recovering from the shock, Don said slightly hysterically, ‘Nightmare on York Street! Sorry, still a bit out of breath, I have a heart condition. Seeing all of you out there put the willies right up me!’
‘What?’ The camp manner and unfortunate choice of words caused Enjay to freeze.
‘It’s a British saying, means scaring someone.’ Lara broke the stunned silence. ‘Anyway, lovely to see you. Where’s Harry?’
‘Just picking something up in Beaches. He’ll be along in a minute. OK if we film in here?’ Enjay indicated the camcorder AJ was taking out of its case. ‘We thought it would make a good piece for the show.’
‘Oh, now that does sound like fun!’ Don instantly perked up. ‘Lara was telling me all about this TV series of yours.’
Lara said, ‘Here’s Harry now,’ and buzzed open the door.
‘Hello. Sure you’re all right with this?’ Harry greeted her with a polite kiss on the cheek before turning to Don and holding out his arm for a handshake.
‘Hello, good to meet you, I’m Harry. I see we’re going to be filming.’ As he said it, the camcorder began to whir. ‘I know it’s all a bit of a faff but we won’t bother you for too long, I promise. Enjay wants an earring, that’s all. As soon as he’s got it we’ll be out of your hair.’
‘A bit of a faff,’ Enjay repeated in the background, mimicking his über-British accent.
‘I don’t mind at all.’ Don looked slightly taken aback. ‘An earring, you say?’
Harry shook his head. ‘I know, can you believe it? And he’s a grown man too. I’ve told him it’s utterly ridiculous but what can you do? This is what he’s like.’
‘Hey, man, earrings are cool. Oh Jesus, what have you been buying? What is this place?’ Whisking the lightweight carrier bag from Harry’s grasp, Enjay peered at the lettering on the side. ‘BHS?’
‘I told you that was where I was going. You just don’t pay attention, that’s your trouble. You’re like a three-year-old,’ said Harry.
