by Jill Mansell
Given the choice, Ellie would have welcomed Eminem back with open arms. But never mind that, seeing as she was highly unlikely to be given the choice. Before Tony could start asking questions about the new neighbors she said, ‘Oh, I didn’t tell you, I’m redecorating the living room!’ See? He wasn’t the only one capable of changing the subject. She launched into telling him about last night’s disastrous battle with the wallpaper, turning it into a funny story and leaving out the bit where Jamie had turned up, because that was her guilty secret. Lots of people, following a bereavement, talked to the loved one they’d lost. She knew that, had been told many times that it was a completely normal thing to do. What was less normal, it appeared, was having the dead person talk back.
***
Zack McLaren had arranged this lunch meeting with the director of an IT company he might soon be doing lucrative business with. Normally he was able to concentrate on the subject in hand with no difficulty, but today was proving to be different. Earlier, as he’d been standing outside the restaurant taking a phone call, a girl in a pink coat had caught his eye as she headed down the street towards him. Her hair was long and dark, her eyes light brown, her cheeks rosy, and the effect she’d had on him was extraordinary; he couldn’t stop looking at her. Whoever she was, he wanted to know more. Heavens, what a weird feeling; he’d never experienced anything like this before.
As she passed him, Zack caught a waft of her perfume, something fresh and herby, unfamiliar but instantly leaving an impression. He turned, watching the back view of her glossy hair, fitted pink coat, and long legs in black tights. Incredible legs, actually. His heart, unbelievably, was thudding in his chest. What was happening to him? Then, realizing where the incredible legs were taking her, the thudding turned into a gallop; she was heading into the Ivy…
Hurriedly ending his call, Zack followed her inside. Just in time to see her being warmly greeted by someone he did recognize.
Now, an hour and a half later, he was still struggling to pay attention to what his lunch companion was saying. Across the room sat the girl in the pink coat, now minus her pink coat and wearing a thin wool dress the color of Parma violets. She wasn’t the most stunningly beautiful girl he’d ever seen but she was making him feel as if she was. If she’d been having lunch with a female friend, he would have approached her, introduced himself, said something or other—God only knows what, he’d never done anything like that before in his life—and found out who she was. He would have given her his card, asked her to call him, no, asked if he could call her, found out if she would like to have dinner with him sometime soon, hopefully very soon…
Except she wasn’t with a girlfriend, was she? That would be too much to hope for. Instead, she was having a lovely, entertaining lunch with the actor Tony Weston. They were chatting together, laughing a lot, clearly well acquainted, and enjoying each other’s company.
Which meant any form of approach wasn’t likely to be appreciated. Instead, he was stuck over here, too far away to eavesdrop on their conversation or hear what her voice sounded like, while the company director sitting opposite him droned on about financial forecasts and—
‘So what do you think about that, then?’
Shit. Typical. Zack snapped his attention back to the reason he’d come along to the Ivy today. Well, the original reason.
‘I think it’s… interesting.’ He nodded thoughtfully.
‘And what’s the verdict? Do we have a deal?’
This was ridiculous; he was a professional. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before.
‘Ian, I can’t come to a decision today.’ Chiefly because he hadn’t the faintest idea what Ian had been saying for the last hour. ‘I need to go over the figures again, have a word with a couple of other people. But I’ll get back to you by Monday afternoon, and that’s a promise.’
Ian sat back, took a swallow of water, and shot him a suspicious look. ‘Everything OK? You seem a bit… distant today.’
What would Ian say if he were to tell him, if he suddenly leaned across the table and said, ‘The thing is, there’s a girl over there, a complete stranger, but just looking at her is making me feel like I’ve never felt before in my life’?
How would bluff, ruddy-faced Ian react to that?
Except it was a rhetorical question because they were two businessmen, here to discuss business, and he wouldn’t dream of saying any such thing.
‘I’m fine. Just a touch of jet lag.’ He flashed a brief, reassuring smile at Ian. Apart from anything else, there was such a thing as street cred to consider. He didn’t want to become a complete laughingstock.
***
By the time they left the restaurant it was three thirty. Out on West Street, Tony flagged down a taxi and Ellie gave him a hug.
‘Thanks so much for lunch. It’s lovely to see you again.’
‘I know.’ He opened the cab door and said, ‘Hop in. I’ll drop you home.’
‘But it’s out of your way.’ Ellie shook her head. ‘Honestly, I’m fine. I can get the tube.’
‘It’s raining. Let me give you a lift.’ Amused, Tony said, ‘It’s OK, I can afford it.’ Indicating that she should climb in ahead of him, he added, ‘Please?’
OK, he was right about the rain. It was starting to come down more heavily now too. Relaxed by the wine, she gave in gracefully and climbed—slightly less gracefully—into the cab. It wasn’t until they were on their way to Hammersmith that Tony said, ‘Besides,I want to see this wallpapering disaster of yours.’
‘Oh no, you can’t come in!’ The words burst out before she could stop them. She’d already planned for the taxi to halt at the end of her road. Each time she and Tony had met up over the past fifteen months, it had been in restaurants; that was just the way it had happened. He hadn’t visited the flat for almost two years. Her skin prickling with embarrassment, Ellie knew he’d be shocked by the state of it now.
‘That’s not very friendly,’ Tony observed mildly.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean it like that.’ She shook her head, ashamed. ‘It’s just… you know, messy.’
He smiled. ‘You mean there’s washing-up in the sink?’
‘It’s worse than that.’ Ellie felt her cheeks flush. ‘The whole place is, oh God, it’s all just a bit… yuck. I’d really rather you didn’t come in.’
But Tony Weston hadn’t got where he was today by giving up easily. He patted her hand and said, ‘I’m not going to judge you, sweetheart. What am I, some kind of monster? I just want to have a look at this troublesome wallpaper of yours.’
‘Please don’t. I messed it up, that’s all.’
‘When I first left drama school and couldn’t get any acting work, I used to help out a friend who was a painter and decorator,’ said Tony.
‘Oh, I didn’t know that.’
He smiled. ‘I’m full of surprises.’
‘Hmm.’ Ellie sank back against the seat. So was her flat.
Chapter 4
‘Jesus,’ said Tony. ‘So this is why you didn’t want me here.’
‘Yes, well. Now you know.’ There was nothing like a fresh pair of eyes—and ears—to remind you of what a dump you were living in. Mortified and ashamed of herself for having put up with it for so long, and most of the time not even realizing how bad things had got, Ellie watched him pace around the living room. A year ago, her lovely, gentle landlady, Moira, had died of a heart attack, leaving her son to take over the property portfolio. Less than lovely Ron had wasted no time at all filling the flats with dubious characters. It had been a while before Ellie had discovered that the council were paying him over the odds to take on families who were well known to them, chiefly because they’d caused so much havoc they’d been evicted from their previous homes. This, now, was their last resort but rather than calm down they seemed to want to vie for the honor of becoming the noisiest and most disruptive tenants in Hammersmith, if not the whole of London.
As if to prove it, what sounded like a
rugby scrum was currently taking place in the flat upstairs. On bare floorboards, because their putrid carpet was currently occupying the table-sized front garden. Josh Groban was belting out something heartfelt at maximum volume. The two dogs were going mad. The matriarch of the family, a fifty-something woman with a face like a bulldog and a voice like a cement mixer, was roaring, ‘If you two fookers don’t fookin’ stop that, I’ll chuck youse through the fookin’ window.’
‘Is she talking to the dogs?’ said Tony.
‘Maybe. Or her sons. There are four of them.’
‘And get out the way of the TV, ya fookin’ junkies!’
‘That’ll be the two youngest boys,’ Ellie explained.
‘This is diabolical.’ Tony was outraged.
‘You get used to it.’ Most of the time she managed to tune the worst of the noise out.
‘And what happened there?’ He pointed to the badly stained ceiling.
‘Someone left the bath running.’
‘As if the place isn’t damp enough already.’ Breathing in the musty odor that Febreze hadn’t managed to dispel, Tony surveyed the bare wall she’d been working on last night. ‘If you managed to put wallpaper over that mold it’d fall down again in no time. For crying out loud, this place is a health hazard. Haven’t you asked the landlord to get it sorted out?’
Only about a million times. But why would he bother? Ellie knew Ron wanted her out; packing another family in here would allow him to crank the rent right up. She shrugged and said, ‘I have asked, but—’
‘Fook off yourself, ya fat cow!’ bellowed a male voice, followed by a door slamming and the sound of footsteps thudding down the stairs. Then the front door slammed too. Tony watched from the living-room window as the boy, scrawny and blue-white in color, stood hunched on the pavement and made a phone call. Within seconds a gleaming BMW with blacked-out windows screeched to a halt. A window slid down, money was exchanged for a small package, and the car sped away.
‘Don’t let him see you,’ Ellie said hurriedly.
Too late of course. The boy had already swung round. Spotting Tony at the window he grinned nastily, stuck his middle finger in the air, and spat on the ground before letting himself back in the house. As he passed her door on the first floor, he yelled, ‘Nosy fookers around ’ere, i’nt there?’
Peering down at the tiny front garden, most of which was taken up with spilled-open bin bags and stained carpet, Tony said in disbelief, ‘There are syringes lying in the mud.’
‘I know.’ Ellie’s neck prickled again, as ashamed as if she’d thrown them there herself. How must this compare with his multimillion dollar palace in the Hollywood Hills?
‘Ellie.’ His tone changed. ‘In God’s name, why didn’t you tell me it was like this?’
She shrugged, unable to explain. On the scale of misery, losing Jamie had been a ten. Compared with that, having to tolerate undesirable neighbors had barely scraped a two. And if that made her sound ridiculous, well, too bad. ‘You get used to it. It’s just noise.’ To distract herself, she had got into the habit of conjuring up Jamie and having a chat with him instead. It was just a question of tuning out the rest, the yelling, the door-slamming, the incessant Celine Dion.
‘There are used syringes in your front garden. This flat should carry a government health warning. You can’t stay here.’
‘Fook off, ya gobshite, that’s me last can!’
Ellie pressed her lips together. She knew he was right. And if she was a friend she’d be telling herself exactly the same thing. But what Tony didn’t understand was that this was where she and Jamie had lived together. They had found the flat, moved into it as ridiculously happy newlyweds, loved and laughed, and had the best time here for over three years. The rooms were filled with memories and she didn’t know if she could bear to leave them behind…
‘OK, I’m not completely stupid.’ Tony’s voice softened as her eyes filled with tears. ‘This is about Jamie, isn’t it?’
Her throat had constricted. ‘Yes.’ Embarrassingly it came out as a high-pitched squeak.
‘So the flat didn’t used to be like this. But it is now.’
She nodded.
‘You know what I’m going to say next, don’t you?’
Wearily, she nodded again. ‘Probably.’
‘If Jamie could see this place now, he’d be horrified.’ Tony’s manner was gentle but firm. ‘He’d want you out of here.’
‘Owwwww, ya bastard, I’ll fookin’ get you for that!’ There was a roar, a crash, and a shower of glass rained past the window, along with a spraying, somersaulting can of lager.
‘He’d want you safe,’ said Tony. Tilting his face up to the ceiling he added drily, ‘Although your neighbors have timing, I’ll give them that.’
***
Was this another reason she’d done her best to hide the situation from Jamie’s father?
Three days after their lunch at the Ivy, Ellie found herself standing outside an imposing Victorian end-of-terrace property on Nevis Street, just off Regents Park Road, in the heart of Primrose Hill village. The outside of the house was painted palest yellow, the sash windows were framed in white gloss, and the front garden was small but well-tended, without a manky discarded carpet in sight.
This was what you called a Seriously Nice Area.
‘Well?’ Tony stood next to her. ‘What do you think?’
‘Honestly? I feel sick. I can’t believe you’re doing this.’
‘Listen, I’m not doing it for you. It’s a sound financial investment. Every time I come over to the UK, I stay in a hotel. It’s a very nice hotel, but it isn’t home.’ Indicating the building in front of them, he said, ‘I need a pied-à-terre, and this looks pretty good to me. But if it’s going to be standing empty most of the time, my insurance premiums will shoot up. And I’ll spend all my time worrying about squatters. Whereas if I have someone living in the place, keeping an eye on things, I won’t have anything to worry about. Makes sense to me.’
The estate agent arrived and let them into the flat, situated on the first floor like the one Ellie had lived in for the last four years but otherwise different in every conceivable way. There were two good-sized bedrooms, each with a bathroom en suite. There was also a small third bathroom, a huge airy living room, and an ultra-modern kitchen. It was like something out of a glossy magazine. Everything was clean and dry, freshly painted, and sweet-smelling. Immaculate.
‘No mold,’ Tony pointed out. ‘No damp. No Celine Dion.’
‘Just as she was starting to grow on me,’ said Ellie.
‘Do you like it?’
‘Of course I like it.’ What was there to dislike? She shoved her hands into the pockets of her red jacket to hide the fact that they were trembling.
‘Could we have a moment?’ Tony waited until the estate agent had left them alone. ‘Sweetheart, now listen to me. I can afford it. We’d be doing each other a favor.’ He paused. ‘James was my only child. What else am I supposed to do with my money?’
Ellie nodded. ‘I know, and I’m grateful. But… it just feels like too much.’
‘OK, how about this then? Say I buy the flat anyway. And you don’t move in, and squatters take over the place, and they wreck it and cause all kinds of trouble and end up bringing down the whole neighborhood.’ He shrugged. ‘If that happens, it’ll be all your fault. Everyone in Primrose Hill will hate you.’
She smiled. ‘No pressure, then. Um, can I meet you downstairs in a couple of minutes? I’d just like to… have another look around on my own.’
Tony followed the estate agent down the stairs. She knew she was being ridiculous, but it was something she just needed to double-check. Ellie closed her eyes, concentrated hard, then opened them again.
‘Oh ye of little faith,’ said an amused voice behind her.
Turning, she saw Jamie leaning against the closed living-room door. White shirt, clean jeans, arms crossed, head shaking in good-natured disbelief.
Oh,
thank God.
‘Did you seriously think I wouldn’t turn up?’
She exhaled with relief. ‘I just wanted to make sure.’
‘Well, I’m here.’ He spread his arms. ‘Ta-daaa!’
‘Your dad’s been amazing.’
‘I know. He gets it from me.’
Ellie searched his face. ‘So what do you think?’
‘About this place? It’s fantastic.’
‘Should I say yes, then?’
‘I think you’d be stupid to say no,’ said Jamie.
Which was cheating really, because the words were coming from her brain. She was making him say them.
Oh well. He didn’t seem to mind.
‘Right then.’ She nodded. ‘I’m going to do it.’
Jamie winked and gave her the kind of encouraging smile she missed the most. ‘Good.’
Chapter 5
‘God, look at this place, it’s like a dream come true, you’re so lucky… oh no! Sorry!’ Paula clapped her hands over her mouth. ‘I’ve done it again, you’re not lucky at all. Ow.’
‘From now on, every time you say sorry I’m going to have to hit you over the head with a cushion.’ Ellie put the gray velvet cushion back on the sofa and gave it a little house-proud pat. Had it only been a month since she’d come along with Tony and seen the flat for the first time? But that was the power of cold hard cash for you; with no need for a mortgage, Tony had simply put his solicitors on to it and the sale had gone through in record time.
And now here she was in her new home, surrounded by packing cases and so far not missing the old Hammersmith flat at all.
Well, it had only been three hours.
‘OK, tell me what to do.’ Paula made a show of rolling up her sleeves and looking efficient. ‘I want to help. Shall we start on these?’ Without waiting for an answer, she ripped the tape off one of the boxes and said, ‘Just let me know where you want everything to go… oh… oh no, are these Jamie’s?’ Appalled, she hurriedly bundled the armful of shirts and sweaters back into the box. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it! I didn’t know!’