by Jill Mansell
‘Not at all.’ She’d only said it on the spur of the moment—nothing ventured, nothing gained—but Lola knew now that this man was no more than a charming stranger, albeit a slightly bemused one, thanks to her interrogation. ‘OK, you’re not a private detective. I believe you.’
He nodded gravely. ‘Thank you.’
Out of nowhere a queue for the tills had materialized. Lola said, ‘Enjoy your book.’
The man left, clutching his dark blue Kingsley’s carrier bag and wearing the kind of expression that people have when they think they’ve handed over a ten pound note and been given change for twenty.
Chapter 11
Weren’t Toastabags the greatest invention in the whole world ever?
The toaster popped up and Lola hooked out the bag, tipping the gorgeous crispy toasted cheese and tomato sandwich onto a plate. Possibly her favorite food, and to think that when she’d first clapped eyes on a Toastabag she hadn’t believed it could work, because how could a plasticky baggy-type thing go into an electric toaster and not melt?
OK, toasted sandwich: check.
DVD in DVD player: check. She’d treated herself to the latest release starring Tom Dutton, one of her favorite actors.
Box of tissues: check. When she’d dragged Gabe along to the cinema to see the film she’d honked like a big goose during the weepy bits and shown herself right up.
Remote control for DVD player: check.
Remote control for TV… bum, where was it? Oh, under the sofa cushions. Check.
Now she was all ready to go…
The doorbell rang as she was about to take the first heavenly bite of toasted sandwich. Someone had a sense of humor. Lola looked at her make-up-free reflection in the kitchen window, teamed with dripping wet hair and lime-green toweling dressing gown, and really hoped Tom Dutton hadn’t chosen this moment to pitch up on her doorstep.
She pressed the intercom. ‘Yes?’
‘Lola?’
A female voice. ‘Who’s that?’
‘It’s me! Sally Tennant!’
Good grief. Sally. Doug’s sister. As Lola pressed the buzzer, her stomach gave a little squiggle of excitement. ‘Come on up.’
Sally, wrapped in a glamorous cream coat and black patent high-heeled boots, was looking glossy and stylish. She would have looked even more stylish if there hadn’t been a pair of sparkly red plastic antlers flashing away on top of her head.
‘Oh sorry.’ She pulled a face when she saw Lola’s hair and dressing gown. ‘Bad time?’
‘Of course not. I can’t believe you’re here.’ Lola ushered her into the living room, switched off the TV. ‘Is this something to do with Doug?’
‘Doug.’ Sally looked blank. ‘No. Haven’t seen him. Why, have you?’
‘No.’ Lola swallowed her disappointment.
‘I asked Philip for your address. I’m here about that flat you told me about.’
The flat. Lola hadn’t thought for a moment that Sally would take her up on the offer—she hadn’t appeared to be even listening when she’d mentioned it. And now she was actually here. Talk about cutting it fine. But at the same time, how brilliant.
‘You’re really interested? That’s fantastic. Gabe’s off to Australia tomorrow… he’s out saying goodbye to his friends tonight, God only knows what time he’ll be back. But I’ve got a key. I can show you the flat now.’ Tightening the belt of her dressing gown, Lola said, ‘You’ll love it, I promise!’
***
‘Gabe? Can you hear me?’ At the other end of the phone Lola could make out yet more noisy celebrations. ‘I’ve just found someone for your flat. Remember I told you about Sally, Doug’s sister? Well, she’s here and she’s had a look round, and it’s just what—’
‘What?’ hissed Sally when Lola abruptly stopped and listened. ‘Doesn’t he want me to move in? Why, what’s wrong with me? Tell him he won’t find a better tenant anywhere. Look, I can pay the deposit now, money isn’t a problem… Lola, tell him how much I want this flat!’
Lola said slowly, ‘Yes… OK, right… no, of course I understand.’ She finished listening to Gabe then hung up.
‘What?’ wailed Sally. ‘Why can’t I have it? I want it!’
Lola felt a twinge of guilt; she was the one who’d begged Gabe not to take on Terry-the-slaughterhouse-worker.
‘It’s not you. Gabe registered the flat this morning with a lettings agency. He’s signed a contract with them. And they rang him a couple of hours ago to tell him they were bringing a client round tonight. If this guy says he wants it, there’s nothing we can do. He’s got first refusal,’ she explained. ‘And he’s keen to find somewhere fast.’
‘Oh.’ Sally looked crestfallen. ‘Well, maybe he won’t like it.’
‘Everyone likes Gabe’s flat. Damn it,’ Lola said frustratedly, ‘I want you to be my neighbor, I don’t want some smelly boy moving in next door…’
‘What?’ Sally eyed her with curiosity as Lola’s voice trailed off. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘Gabe says they’re due round at eight.’ Lola checked her watch. ‘I’m just wondering what time the corner shop shuts.’
With a glimmer of a smile Sally said, ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re a little bit weird?’
‘Excuse me.’ Lola raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re the one with the flashing antlers on your head.’
***
The corner shop was still open. If Sanjeev wondered why his best customer when it came to magazines, chocolate, and ice cream was all of a sudden buying up cabbages, he didn’t ask. By ten to eight the evil stench of boiled cabbage was thick in both Lola’s flat and Gabe’s. When the saucepans had been removed from Gabe’s kitchen Lola found a music channel on the TV in her own flat and turned the volume up to maximum. Eminem blared out and Sally took off her antlers, shaking out her hair and kicking off her shoes.
At three minutes past eight they heard the front door being opened downstairs, then two people entering Gabe’s flat. Lola gave it a few seconds then crossed the landing and thumped on the door.
It was opened by a man in a suit. ‘Yes?’
‘Hi there, is he in?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘The Angel Gabriel.’ Lola raised her voice to be heard above the sound of the music. ‘Mr Let’s-Complain-About-Everything.’
The letting agent said frostily, ‘If you mean Mr Adams, he isn’t here.’
‘No? Best news I’ve heard all day.’ Grinning at the potential tenant behind him—gangling, thirties, spectacles, accountanty-looking—Lola said, ‘Well, can you just pass on a message from Lola and Sal across the hall, tell him we’re having a few friends round tonight. They’ll be turning up after the pub and we’d appreciate it if he didn’t give us the usual grief, seeing as this time we’re warning him in advance.’ Leaning forward conspiratorially, she added, ‘To be honest, the police are fed up with him calling them and whining about us. I mean, talk about a Neddy No-Mates! If you can’t have a party and a laugh with your friends, what’s the point of living, eh?’
‘Maybe you could leave a note for Mr Adams.’ The letting agent spoke brusquely, keen to close the door on a potentially deal-breaking neighbor.
‘Hang on.’ The gawky accountant-type behind him raised his voice above the thudding hip-hop beat that was now making the floor vibrate. ‘How often do you have parties?’
‘Not often. Two or three times a week, that’s all.’
‘And the smell,’ said the accountant. ‘What is that?’
‘Hmm? Oh, can you notice it?’ Lola shrugged. ‘No idea. It comes and goes in waves—something to do with the drains, I think. Cost us a fortune to have everything checked out but it didn’t do any good. We thought maybe Neddy No-Mates had buried someone under his floorboards.’ She paused and said, ‘Why do
you want to know?’
‘This flat’s been registered with a lettings agency.’ The accountant blinked rapidly. ‘The owner’s moving to Australia.’
‘You’re kidding. Hey, fantastic!’ Hearing footsteps behind her, Lola turned and said to Sally, ‘Hear that? Neddy No-Mates is off to Oz!’
‘To get away from us?’ All of a sudden nine months pregnant beneath her coat, Sally nodded approvingly. ‘Cool. So does that mean you’re going to be our new neighbor?’
‘I, um…’ Was that a glint of terror behind the geeky spectacles? ‘Well, I’m not…’
‘Because if you ever fancy a spot of babysitting, I’ve got just the thing for you right here!’ Sally gave her swollen stomach a pat. ‘I mean, just because we’re having a baby doesn’t mean we have to stop doing what we want to do, does it? Whoo-hoo!’ Eminem had given way to Snoop Dogg. Sally, clutching her stomach with one hand and waving the other in the air, executed some enthusiastic hip-hop-esque dance moves. ‘Whoo-hooooo!’
It was a sight to make a grown man nervous. Two grown men, in fact. The geek and the lettings agent edged nervously away. Lola, filled with admiration, prayed that Sally wouldn’t get carried away and attempt to shake her booty.
Imagine the embarrassment if her cushion fell out.
‘How many of you are there living in that flat?’ said the geek.
‘Just me and Lola and this little creature when he gets here.’ Still energetically gyrating along to the music, Sally pointed gaily at her stomach.
‘Who needs a man when you’ve got a turkey baster?’ said Lola, winking at the lettings agent. ‘Our baby’s going to have two mothers who know how to have fun.’
***
When the agent and the geek had left the building, Lola turned off the ear-splitting music and threw open the windows in both flats to disperse the nostril-curling boiled-cabbage smell.
‘Gosh, that was fun.’ Sally pulled the balled-up velvet cushion out from under her coat and flung it onto the sofa. ‘Think it’ll do the trick?’
‘It’d do the trick if I was the one looking for a flat.’ Lola took a bottle of white wine from the fridge and poured out two glasses.
‘Poor bloke, he did look a bit stunned. I suppose we just have to wait now. Should I be drinking that in my condition?’
‘You could always have water instead.’
‘Water? Yeurgh, nasty wet watery stuff. No thanks.’
Lola’s phone rang ten minutes later and she leapt on it.
‘What did you do?’ Gabe came straight to the point.
Innocently Lola said, ‘Sorry?’
‘No you’re not. I’ve just had a call from the lettings agent,’ said Gabe, ‘telling me that in view of the Situation, I’m going to need to drop my rental price.’
‘Oh Gabe, that’s terrible.’
‘Quite significantly, in fact.’
‘You poor thing!’
‘He also said getting rid of that putrid smell had to be a priority.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘So this friend of yours, this sister-of-Doug,’ said Gabe. ‘I’m assuming she’s there with you now.’
Lola looked over at Sally. ‘Might be.’
‘And she wants my flat.’
‘Definitely. More than anything.’
‘What caused the smell?’
‘Four big saucepans of boiled cabbage.’
‘Here, give me the phone.’ Reaching over, Sally grabbed it and said, ‘Gabe? Hi, please let me be your new tenant! I’m super-housetrained, I promise. I’d really look after your flat and I’m completely trustworthy, I’ll pay the full rent by direct debit and leave the deposit with Lola now, you won’t regret it… what? Oh, OK.’
‘What did he say?’ demanded Lola when Sally put down the phone.
‘That I was giving him earache.’
‘And?’
‘That moving to Australia was beginning to seem like the best decision he’d ever made.’
‘And?’
‘That you and I deserve each other and he feels sorry for our baby.’
Since Sally was currently sitting on the sofa with one elbow digging into the abandoned velvet cushion, Lola felt quite sorry for it too. ‘So that means…?’
Sally beamed and clinked her glass against Lola’s. ‘I can move in as soon as I like.’
Chapter 12
‘Oh, I’m going to miss you sooo much.’ Lola blinked and hiccupped; she hadn’t expected to feel this emotional but actually saying goodbye to Gabe was hard.
‘Hang on, you’re strangling me.’ He pried her off him. ‘It’s like being hugged by a giant koala.’
‘That’s to get you into practice. Oh bugger, what do I look like?’
‘A panda in a pink dress.’ Gabe watched her mopping up mascara. ‘I can’t believe you’re crying. I’m only going for a year.’
‘I know, I know I’m being stupid.’ Lola blew her nose like a trumpeting elephant. ‘But what if you change your mind? You might decide to stay there for good and I’ll never see you again. You’re my best male friend in the world and you’re about to fly off to the other side of it. What if you and Jaydena get married and buy a house and settle down and have loads of Aussie kids?’
She expected Gabe to burst out laughing at such a ridiculous idea, but he didn’t.
‘If that happens, you can always come out and visit us.’
Oh God, he really meant it! He was that besotted with Jaydena. Had he never even watched Kath and Kim?
Apart from anything else, Lola knew they had particularly evil spiders in Australia, the kind that hid under toilet seats and bit your bum. So she definitely couldn’t go.
‘You could come back and visit me,’ she offered.
‘What, with all those kids?’ Gabe grinned. ‘Are you crazy? We couldn’t afford it.’
He was in love. Lola did her best to feel happy for him. She looked at her watch. ‘I’m going to be late to work.’
‘And my cab’s due in ten minutes.’ Gabe gave her a kiss on the cheek and pushed her towards the door. ‘Go on, get yourself out of here. You’ve got your new friend Sally moving in tonight—you won’t even notice I’m gone.’
***
‘You were right,’ said the man who wasn’t a private detective.
‘Oh, hi.’ Recognizing him, Lola dumped the pile of hardbacks she’d brought out from the stockroom and said cheerfully, ‘Right about what?’
‘Last night. I couldn’t put that book down. I was awake till four this morning finishing it.’ He shook his head in baffled disbelief. ‘I didn’t know reading could be like that, I had no idea. I’ve just never been a booky person. All these years I’ve been missing out.’
‘Ah, but now you’ve seen the light.’ Lola loved it when this happened; witnessing a conversion never failed to give her a thrill. ‘You’ve become one of us. Welcome to our world; you’re going to love it here.’
‘I need another thriller and I don’t know where to start.’ The man was wearing a navy suit today, with a burnt-orange shirt and a turquoise silk tie. ‘There are so many to choose from. Can you recommend an author?’
Could she recommend an author? Ha, it was only the favorite bit of her job!
‘You’d like this one.’ Lola picked up a book with a gunmetal grey cover. ‘Or this.’ Eagerly she reached across the table for another. ‘Now he’s a gripping writer.’
The man looked more closely at Lola. ‘Are you OK?’
Bugger, she’d redone her make-up on the tube on the way into work. Clearly not thoroughly enough.
‘I’m fine. It’s just… nothing.’ Lola checked herself; he was a complete stranger. ‘Look, see how you get on with this one. When you’ve tried a few different authors we can work out which others
you might like, then—’
‘Beano!’
‘Excuse me?’ She turned to face the hatchet-faced woman who had just barked in her ear.
‘I need a Beano Annual for my grandson!’
‘Sorry,’ the man in the suit shook his head apologetically and took the book with the grey cover from her. ‘You’re busy. Thanks for this. I’ll let you know how I get on with it.’
‘Come on, come on,’ bellowed the woman, spraying saliva. ‘I haven’t got all day!’
By the time Lola fought her way back through the crowds with the Beano Annual, the man in the suit was gone. The hatchet-faced woman didn’t even say thank you. But then people like that never did.
Twenty minutes later Lola felt an index finger irritably poking at her left shoulder blade. ‘Excuse me, excuse me,’ came an irritated female voice. ‘I want the new book by that Dan Black.’
Lola turned. ‘You mean Dan Brown.’
‘Don’t tell me what I mean, missy. I don’t care what the man’s name is, just get me the book.’
‘I tell you what,’ said Lola, ‘why don’t you stop expecting me to wait on you hand and foot, and get it yourself?’
Outraged, the woman sucked in her breath. ‘You impertinent creature! How dare you? I shall report you to the manager and have you sacked!’
‘And I’ll have you arrested for crimes against color coordination. Because pink,’ Lola curled her lip at the woman’s fluffy scarf and padded jacket, ‘does not go with orange.’
Then they realized they were being watched by a bemused elderly man clutching a biography of Churchill.
‘It’s all right.’ Lola winked at him. ‘She’s my mother.’
‘Hello, darling.’ Blythe gave her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Lola’s ear. ‘Can’t stop, I’m racing to finish all my Christmas shopping then I’ve made an appointment to have my hair done this afternoon. Just popped in to show you what I’ve bought for tonight. Tell me which outfit I should keep and I’ll take the other one back.’
Lola didn’t get her hopes up; being allowed to choose was Blythe’s attempt at compromise. Sadly it was like telling someone they were about to be thrown into deep water and generously giving them the choice between a concrete straitjacket and lead diving boots. Blythe had as much fashion sense as a chicken, coupled with a hopeless predilection for mixing and matching things that Really Didn’t Go. Somehow it hadn’t seemed to matter when Alex had been alive—between them, they had regarded Blythe’s manner of dressing as no more than an endearing quirk. But it was five years now since Alex had died and during the last eighteen months Blythe had tentatively begun dating again. All of a sudden clothes had become more important. Keen for her mother to make a good impression on the outside world, Lola had begun attempting to steer her into more stylish waters.
