by Jill Mansell
Switching off the engine, Hugh observed his hands shaking. This was definitely scary. Worse than sitting finals. Worse than preparing to bungee jump off a tower block. Worse than… well, pretty much anything.
Feeling sick, he checked his appearance in the rearview mirror. Jesus, just like a girl. Still, it gave him something to do. And this was one of those moments that could only be improved by the knowledge that you didn’t have a bit of spinach caught between your front teeth.
Okay. Hair, same as ever.
Face, still there.
Teeth, no spinach. Which wasn’t altogether surprising, seeing as he never ate the filthy stuff.
Aftershave, yes.
Too much aftershave? Hope not.
Deep breath.
Another deep breath.
All this gearing himself up, and Millie might not even be at home.
But she was, he knew she was. There, parked just across the street, was her lime green Mini with its almost-expired tax disc and a jaunty pink sun hat perched on the back shelf.
Right. You can either sit here all evening like a complete dick-head or get on with it.
Hugh opened the car and stepped out on to the dusty pavement.
Remember the last time you were here, standing outside Millie's front door, wanting more than anything to kiss her and telling yourself you mustn’t?
Well, now he knew he must.
Raising his hand, he knocked on the door.
Moments later, the door swung open.
Millie was wearing her gorilla suit; she must be on her way out to a job. Hugh realized that he was glad; saying what he had to say to a girl dressed as a gorilla might be unconventional, but not being able to see the expression on her face actually made it easier.
Not easy. But easier. Just a bit.
‘Okay, let me just say this.’ Hugh held up his hands because Millie was breaking into a little dance and this was the kind of distraction he didn’t need.
Obediently she stopped and tilted her head inquiringly to one side.
Here we go.
‘Right then. The thing is, I’ve been a complete idiot. I panicked after that night when we… you know. I panicked because I realized how I felt about you and that wasn’t supposed to happen. I knew I couldn’t let it happen. I’ve treated you so badly and I didn’t mean to… dammit, you wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve rehearsed this, and it's coming out all wrong.’ Hugh shook his head, sweat prickling the back of his neck. ‘Look, I just want to say sorry for everything and… I love you. I mean, really love you. If you think you can forgive me for everything I’ve put you through, maybe we can try again. Properly, this time.’ Shit, this wasn’t easy at all. Raking back his hair, he concluded, ‘And if you can’t forgive me, please feel free to slam the door in my face.’
There, he’d done it. Told a gorilla he loved her. It was all out in the open now. In her hands.
Well, hairy paws.
Filled with trepidation, Hugh watched as the paws went up to remove the gorilla's head. There was a ripping sound as the velcro attaching it to the neck of the suit was wrenched apart.
The head came off and he was greeted with a broad smile.
‘This is really great, and I can’t tell you how flattered I am,’ Hester said cheerfully, ‘but I’m actually very happy with Nat.’
Chapter 54
‘YOU’D BETTER COME IN,’ Hester said kindly. ‘Before you pass out on the pavement.’
Having just crammed fifty years’ worth of mortification into five seconds, it occurred to Hugh that passing out on the pavement might be the most desirable option. Seeing as there was no sign of a big hole conveniently opening up.
But since passing out clearly wasn’t going to happen either, he followed Hester into the living room.
‘Sit down.’ Solicitously, she patted the back of the sofa. ‘Now, can I get you something? Cup of tea, glass of nice cold lemonade?’ Fractional pause. ‘Great big bucket of Scotch?’
Hester was struggling hard to keep a straight face. She was having the time of her life, Hugh realized, extracting maximum enjoyment from the situation.
In other words, taking the piss. To be fair, he couldn’t blame her.
‘Come on, cheer up.’ Hester broke into a huge, irreverent grin. ‘In years to come, we’ll be able to laugh about this. Well, you will,’ she happily amended. ‘I’m laughing about it already.’
All the buckets of Scotch in the world weren’t going to help him now.
‘Can I ask you something?’ Hugh gestured to her costume. ‘Why are you wearing Millie's gorilla suit?’
‘I’m her stand-in. Millie had a job booked for tonight. She couldn’t make it, so she asked me to do it instead. Can I ask you a question now? How long has this thing between you and Millie been going on? And why haven’t I heard a word about it? And what did you do, exactly, that was so terrible?’
Hugh sighed. ‘That's three questions.’
‘No problem. I don’t have to be at Polperro until eight, so we’ve got plenty of time.’ As she spoke, Hester unzipped the suit and wiggled out of it, brushed a few moulting nylon hairs from her Faith No More T-shirt, and plonked herself companionably down beside him on the sofa. ‘I was only trying it on to get the feel of it. When the doorbell went I thought I’d give Nat a surprise. Now, take a deep breath and relax.’ Her tone was soothing but her eyes danced with glee. ‘You’ll feel a million times better once you’ve told me everything, I promise.’
Hugh ignored this blatant lie.
‘Where's Millie?’
‘In the kitchen.’
‘What? ’
‘Only joking.’ Triumphantly, Hester mimicked his look of horror. ‘Up in London. Orla was invited to some big party. She didn’t want to go on her own, apparently, so she dragged Millie along with her.’
‘What kind of big party?’
‘God knows. Some kind of awards ceremony, I think Millie said. They’re staying up there for a couple of days, but she’ll definitely be back by Sunday lunchtime because she's got a booking on Sunday afternoon. Anyway, that's enough about that.’ In schoolmistressy fashion, Hester tapped his arm. ‘You still have some serious explaining to do. And what I especially want to know is when did all this start?’
Hugh closed his eyes; he was in an impossible situation here. If he told Hester to mind her own business, she could spoil everything for him. With Millie away for the next three nights, she was bound to phone Hester from London at some stage. And Hester would take ghoulish delight in telling her what had happened here this evening.
No, no, he couldn’t let that happen. He’d messed up enough of this relationship already. Okay, it might not literally be the end of the world if Hester spoke to Millie first, but after so much had gone wrong, it was important to at least get this part right.
I should be the one to tell her, not Hester. Dammit, thought Hugh, I have to be the one to tell her.
Shit, he needed to get Hester on his side. He was going to have to appeal to her better nature.
If she had one.
This was definitely one of life's major dilemmas, Hugh decided. Like being confronted by a ravenous grizzly bear and wondering if throwing it one of your arms would be enough.
‘The night of Orla's party,’ he finally admitted.
‘You’re kidding! And did you and Millie sleep together?’
Oh now, this was outrageous. Ravenous grizzly bear or no grizzly bear, he wasn’t going to answer that question.
Unfortunately, not answering told Hester all she needed to know.
‘You DID,’ she whooped, bouncing around on the sofa like a two-year-old. ‘You really did! So that's why she said I needn’t pay her two hundred pounds for losing our Celibet. By the time I had sex with Lucas she’d already done it with you… and I thought she was being so nice, letting me off. Can you believe I actually thanked her? Honestly, that girl is a complete tart!’
‘It only happened once.’
‘Doesn’t matter. A bet's a
bet.’
‘And then I panicked. Thinking of my wife. After Louisa died, I swore I’d never get involved with anyone again.’
Hester stopped gloating and gave him a sympathetic look.
‘But that's not realistic.’
‘I can see that now. But there are certain unwritten rules.’ Hugh shrugged. ‘Like yesterday at the restaurant when you got mad with Lucas, just because he asked me if I was involved with anyone else. You were outraged at the very idea, remember?’
‘I was mad with Lucas because I thought you’d be outraged by the idea!’ Hester exclaimed. ‘That's not the same thing at all! Asking someone if they’ve met someone else yet when they haven’t is horrible. But there's absolutely nothing wrong with it if they have.’
‘Well, I was pretty disgusted with myself.’ He shook his head. ‘I thought it was too soon. Disrespectful and all that. I dropped Millie like a hot potato, couldn’t even bring myself to explain why. And I tried my best to forget her. But I couldn’t. The feelings just refused to go away. Basically, the last couple of months have been pretty hellish.’
‘But you can’t help how you feel!’ Hester spoke with passion. ‘Some people lose their partners and it takes them twenty years to find someone else. And there are others who find someone in twenty weeks. I mean, look at—’
‘I know,’ Hugh interjected with a brief smile. ‘Lucas's grandparents.’ He wasn’t going to be the one to tell her Lucas had more than likely made the whole story up.
‘Exactly. God, this is fantastic.’ Hester clasped her hands together in delight. ‘You and Millie. It's perfect! Ooh, and she said she’d probably ring me tomorrow—just wait until she hears about this!’
Shit.
He’d ripped his own arm off for nothing. The grizzly bear was going to eat him alive after all.
‘No. No! ’ Hugh kept his voice level. ‘Hester, you mustn’t do that. This is between Millie and me. If she phones, you have to promise me you won’t breathe a word.’
Hester's face fell. He watched it happen, like a lift with severed cables plummeting to earth.
‘I’m serious,’ he said. ‘Very serious indeed.’
Finally, she managed a brave-little-soldier nod.
‘Of course. I understand. You’re absolutely right. I won’t tell Millie anything.’ She shook her head with such vigor her emerald green parrot earrings bounced off the sides of her neck. For added emphasis she mimed zipping her mouth shut.
Her great big blabbermouth, Hugh reminded himself, wondering if it might not be simpler to superglue it shut.
Illegal. But tempting.
He gave it one last shot. ‘Do you promise?’
In reply, Hester gave him her most trustworthy—in other words, not trustworthy at all—Cheshire-cat smile.
‘Absolutely. Definitely. You can rely on me, I promise.’
Hugh wondered why he wasn’t reassured.
The Royal Lancaster was the poshest hotel Millie had ever stayed at. Actually, apart from a dreary little boarding house masquerading as a hotel in Blackpool where she’d once spent a dirty weekend with an accountant called Kevin, it was the only hotel she’d ever stayed at. And it was turning out to be a completely thrilling experience. Hot water shot out of the taps at such a rate that she’d had two baths already. Her room was vast, six times the size of her bedroom at home. And the view over Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens was stunning.
Feeling like a yokel up from the sticks—which, of course, she was—Millie pressed her nose to the window, marveling at the red double-decker buses trundling along the busy road below, as well as the sheer number of black cabs zipping past. It was so completely different from Cornwall. Apart from a few brief visits to her mother, she had never spent any real time here. Thanks to Adele, who regarded it as hopelessly common, she’d never even done any proper sightseeing.
Well, it was about time she did.
I might decide I love it enough to move here, thought Millie, feeling reckless. Maybe a change of scenery is just what I need.
Because basically, now that Hester was settled with Nat, she was going to have to find somewhere else to live anyway. And apart from her job—which was, after all, only a job—there was precious little to keep her in Newquay. It wasn’t as if her father and Judy were likely to slip into a Victorian decline.
Plus, moving away would hopefully take her mind off Hugh. Because, let's face it, all this bumping into him and just-being-friends simply wasn’t working out. It was hard to cope with. Falling in love with someone who didn’t love you back was the pits. And if she stayed in Newquay, they would only keep bumping into each other.
Whereas if she moved up here, she could get on with making a new life for herself. With a bit of luck, her memory would be wiped clean of him, like turning the wheel on an Etch-a-Sketch. In a couple of months, she might wake up one morning and think, Hugh? Hugh who?
Ooh, look at that black cab doing a U-turn right in front of that truck! The taxi drivers in this city drove like demons, they just—
‘Millie, it's me! Ready to go?’
Millie raced barefoot across the pale carpet—so thick and springy it was like bouncing on a trampoline—and flung open the door.
‘My God!’ she exclaimed. ‘What happened? You look awful.’’
Orla grinned, because she knew she didn’t. Her eyes sparkled, her pre-Raphaelite curls tumbled past her shoulders, and she was poured into a memorably low-cut dress of sea green shot-silk that shimmered every time she moved.
‘I know, I’m a complete disaster. They probably won’t let me in.’
The message was clear. Orla was proving to the world that she was well and truly over Giles. Looking at her now, no one would doubt it. Millie had nothing but admiration for her.
‘Honestly, someone's smoking in one of these rooms.’ Lifting her head like an outraged bloodhound, Orla sniffed the air and glared at the many doors lining the broad corridor. ‘It smells completely repulsive. People who smoke shouldn’t be allowed to stay in hotels—as soon as we get downstairs I’m going to report them to the manager!’
Oh, and she was still off the cigarettes.
‘Not looking so bad yourself,’ Orla teased as they stepped into the lift. It was also the poshest lift Millie had ever been in in her life—to be fair, there weren’t many buildings with lifts in Newquay—but she didn’t mention this to Orla. There was such a thing as sounding too much like Crocodile Dundee.
Checking herself briefly in the mirror as they traveled downwards, Millie made sure her hair and make-up were okay. She was wearing the Dolce & Gabbana caramel suede dress. (If Orla was her matchmaking fairy godmother, this was her version of Cinderella's ballgown.) She’d even remembered to polish up the tiger's eye earrings Hester had given her last Christmas.
Well, as Orla kept gleefully pointing out, tonight could be the night that changed her whole life.
Then again, so could any night. If you were at home watching TV and a spider ran across your foot, you could panic and leap up on to the coffee table, lose your balance, topple over backwards, fracture your skull, and… well, die.
Which would also change your life.
With any luck, this evening wouldn’t provoke anything quite so dramatic.
‘Here we are,’ Orla announced as the lift door slid noiselessly open. ‘And we are going to enjoy ourselves. Smile, darling. It's showtime!’
Orla certainly knew a lot of people. Millie, incapable of remembering the names of everyone she was being introduced to, could only marvel as Orla worked her way through the throng. They were having drinks in the Lounge Bar before the ceremony itself got underway. More guests were arriving all the time. As the noise level rose, so did the perfume and smoke levels in the room.
Brightly, Orla called out, ‘How are we doing so far? Spotted anyone you like the look of?’
It was like being injected with a giant dose of anti-aphrodisiac. Being ordered to find someone and chat them up simply wasn’t natural. Especia
lly not with Orla standing there avidly charting your progress.
Like having a wee, thought Millie. It was one of those things she just couldn’t do in front of an audience.
‘Why don’t you introduce me to someone you like the look of?’ she countered. ‘Anyway, I thought you already had someone in mind.’
‘Oh yes. My surprise.’ Orla pulled a face. ‘Except there's no sign of him so far. To be honest, I don’t know if he's going to be able to make it. Okay, okay, my choice.’ Keenly, she scanned the room. Moments later, her eyes lighting up, she said, ‘There's someone you might like. Noel Blackwall. Writes horror novels, lives in Sussex, just sold the film rights to his last book for two mill.’
Millie dutifully looked over and her heart did… nothing. Noel Blackwall was of average height. Looks-wise, he was average. He appeared to be around thirty and was engaged in conversation with a slightly older woman sporting a towering blonde beehive.
‘Is that his girlfriend?’ said Millie.
‘Nooo, only his agent.’ Briskly, Orla nudged her forward. ‘Come on, I’ll do the honors.’
The trouble with Orla, Millie belatedly realized, was that she had extremely dodgy taste in men. Look at who she’d married, for a start.
‘… So that was how I got the idea for my new book, Crunching Cockroaches.’ Noel was still droning on in her ear. He’d barely paused for breath since Orla had foisted Millie on to him. Even his agent had looked relieved when Orla had dragged her away in order to give ‘these two young people time to get to know each other.’ Having heard enough stomach-churning detail in the last twenty minutes to put her off her food for life, Millie was now wondering if she was ever going to be able to escape. With his monotonous voice, complete absence of humor, and supercilious manner—he loathed and despised everyone in publishing—he was, officially, the most awful man she ever met.
Ever.
‘Gosh, that's fantastic,’ she lied. ‘I wonder where Orla's got to, it's probably time I went and found her before—’
‘No, you can’t go yet.’ Urgently, Noel placed a damp, pale hand on her arm, his eyes bulging with irritation. ‘I haven’t finished telling you about the book-signing session I did for Crunching Cockroaches. This weird guy turned up with a bucket and you’ll never guess what was in it.’