by Jill Mansell
'OK, that definitely happened to you.'
'Maybe just the once. Or twice. Shut up,' Tilly said as he broke into a grin. 'It's a horrible feeling. And boys can be such pigs some times, they'll ignore you on purpose just to make you feel worse. We don't know, Lou could be having a completely miserable time, watching everyone else slow-dancing while she's desperately trying not to cry… What are you doing?'
Chapter 28
THEY WERE STILL SEVERAL miles from Harleston Hall and Jack was slowing down. He pulled into an overgrown gateway, stopped the car, and switched off the headlights. Had all those cups of coffee proved too much for him? Was he nipping off behind the hedgerows for a caught-short wee? Because if he was, less than ten minutes after leaving Beech House, this could fall into the category of things to put you off a man for good.
Possibly unfair, but true. And maybe disappointing in one way, but probably the best thing all round in the other.
Click. Jack unfastened his seat belt, then turned to look at her. In the pitch darkness, she was just able to make out the angles of his face and the glimmer in his eyes. Why wasn't he speaking? Probably embarrassed; a weak bladder wasn't exactly macho, was it? It wasn't something you'd want to shout about.
To help him out, Tilly said discreetly, 'It's OK, I won't look.'
Pause. 'Excuse me?'
'Are you getting out?'
'Why?'
Oh God, had she offended him now? Was he going to pretend he didn't know what she meant? Why did men have to be so proud?
'Look, you're the one who stopped the car. We're supposed to be picking Lou up, remember? Don't be shy,' said Tilly. 'It's nothing to be ashamed of. If you need to go, go.'
Jack laughed and shook his head. 'Is that what you think? Oh dear, talk about cross purposes. The one thing I don't have is an inadequate bladder.'
'Oh. Well… good!' Feeling daft now, Tilly said, 'But we still have to get to the school. Lou's going to be wondering where we are.'
'Or she could be having the time of her life and praying we don't turn up too soon to spoil her fun.'
'But—'
'Tilly, I'm not talking about us sitting here for the next two hours playing a game of Monopoly. I just wanted to stop for a couple of minutes. And you've already spent one of them doing your level best to shove me out of the car.'
Indignantly, Tilly said, 'I didn't shove you; I was just trying to be helpful.'
Jack's voice changed. 'You'd be more helpful if you'd stop jumping to conclusions.'
Next moment, he'd started the car again, reversed smartly out of the gateway, and resumed the journey to Harleston Hall. Before Tilly had a chance to react. If she'd even dared to guess at why else he might have stopped in the first place, her hopes were abruptly dashed. It was like Father Christmas marching back into your bedroom, seizing the sack of presents he'd left for you earlier, and making off with them. She felt… deflated. And now she'd never know if he'd been about to do what, deep down, she'd kind of been hoping he might do.
They gathered speed, hedgerows on either side whipping past and occasional overgrown branches hitting the sides of the car. In twenty seconds they'd reached the next junction and turned left on to the main Harleston Road. Tilly jumped slightly as a large moth appeared in the beam of the headlights and a split second later rico cheted off the windscreen. Poor moth, not a great end to his evening either. It was five past ten now; they'd be there in less than—
'Sod it.' Jack slammed his foot on the brake. This time, with no
gateway in the vicinity, he screeched to a halt in a passing place and switched off the engine. 'This is why I stopped before.'
He pulled her into his arms and the kiss she'd spent months wondering about happened at last. Father Christmas had returned with her presents after all. Tilly was dizzily aware of his mouth on hers, his fingers stroking the back of her neck, his hair falling forward on to her left cheek… God, he was a fantastic kisser, this was like being swept up in a huge wave and carried along on an endless ex hilarating roll of joy.
OK, not quite endless. After some time it came to an end. Doing her best not to hyperventilate or appear too over-impressed, Tilly said, 'What was that for?'
'Just curious.' He sounded as if he were smiling. 'Don't tell me you weren't too.'
How was she supposed to breathe normally when her heart was going faster than castanets? How was she meant to speak normally when she was still zinging all over from the feel of his mouth on hers? Did he have that effect on everyone he kissed?
She exhaled slowly. The lit-up clock on the dashboard indicated that it was nearly ten past. 'We have to collect Lou.'
In the darkness, Jack nodded. 'You're absolutely right.'
The disco had finished. A steady stream of cars crawled up the tree-lined drive to Harleston Hall and groups of teenagers hung around outside the school waiting for their lifts. The first person Tilly recognized was Tom Lewis, not wearing a tracksuit this time, keeping an eye on the gaggles of over-excited pupils and an arm around a strikingly pretty twenty-something brunette.
'There's Lou's PE teacher, over there on the steps.' Tilly pointed him out. 'That must be his girlfriend with him. Lou told us about her. Ooh, and there's Eddie!'
'Which one?'
'Tight black jeans, Jackie Chan T-shirt.' As they watched, Eddie
broke away from the group of boys he'd been talking to and loped across to another group of girls. 'There's Lou, behind the girl in the pink skirt. He's going over to her… yeek, don't let her see us!'
Since they were stuck in a slow-moving queue of cars, there wasn't a lot Jack could do to hide. Tilly scrunched down in the passenger seat and peered through her fingers; if there was going to be snogging, Lou would just die if she knew they were there watching it happen.
But there wasn't. Eddie said something to Lou, Lou said some thing back, and that was that. Eddie rejoined his friends. Lou tossed her head and looked away, determinedly unconcerned. Oh dear. Tilly's heart went out to her; she hoped they hadn't had a tiff.
Finally, they reached the head of the queue. Jack briefly tooted his horn and Lou, spotting them, came over and threw herself on to the back seat. 'Hiya!'
Well, she seemed chirpy enough. Tilly swiveled round. 'Good time?'
'Brilliant. I've had three Pepsis and two packets of crisps.'
Bless. 'Not cheese and onion,' said Tilly, because they were Lou's favorite and how many boys would want to kiss a girl who reeked of cheese and onion crisps?
'They didn't have any. Only ready salted.'
'So, did you dance?'
'Loads!' Animatedly Lou said, 'You should have seen Gemma— she was moonwalking across the dance floor! Then the DJ started playing the music from Grease and we were all doing the moves. It was fantastic.'
'The boys were dancing too?' Crikey, things had changed since Tilly's day. Happily she pictured the disco, full of twirling, singing couples, just like in the film. Had Eddie been Lou's Danny Zuko?
'The boys? Dancing to Grease? You must be joking!' Lou's tone was disparaging. 'They were superglued to the walls. The boys at our school would rather strip naked and paint themselves pink than do something so uncool.'
'Oh. But how about when the slow dances came on? They must have joined in then.'
Lou gave her a thirteen-year-old's look that signaled Tilly was hopelessly deranged. 'Of course they didn't! A few of the old people danced, that's all. Mr Lewis and his girlfriend. Mrs Thomsett and her husband, who had a beard and really looked as if he was hating every minute. That was it. The DJ asked if we wanted another slow song and everyone yelled no, so he played Girls Aloud instead— yay!—and all of us went mental!'
'So no snogging then.' As he said it, Jack caught Tilly's eye.
'Eeurgh, no way.'
He grinned. 'Oh well, better luck next time.'
'Yuk, who'd want to snog any of the boys at our school? They're all gross.'
Tilly couldn't resist saying it. 'Even Eddie?'
'Oh, don't
start that again. I hate him,' Lou said bluntly. 'He's vile. If I was stranded on a desert island with Eddie Marshall-Hicks, I'd make a canoe out of him.'
Twenty minutes later, they arrived back at Beech House.
'Thanks, Jack.' Lou gave him an exuberant hug and peck on the cheek. 'If you hadn't come to the rescue, I'd have missed the whole night.'
They watched her race into the house to greet Betty, who had woken up and was yapping frantically at them from the kitchen window.
Tilly climbed out of the car and said, 'Yes, thanks for helping out.'
He half smiled. 'Don't mention it. My pleasure.'
OK, awkward moment. Having let herself into the house, Lou was now visible in the lit-up window, holding Betty up and waving the dog's front paws at them. Feeling incredibly self-conscious, Tilly said, 'You're welcome to come in for another coffee if you'd like to.'
'Thanks, but I'd better get back. Paperwork to do.'
She nodded. Paperwork, of course that's what it was. Could he still feel the sensation of their mouths meeting for the first time, or was it just her? Oh God, unless the kiss had been a disappointment… 'Right, fine. Well, thanks again for the lift.'
Lou and Betty were still waving at them. Jack waved back, then paused and turned to look directly at Tilly.
'What?' Well, she had to say something to break the charged silence.
'You asked earlier if I'd ever had that thing where I didn't know how to tell a girl I liked her.'
Tilly's stomach did a triple somersault and stayed suspended in mid-air. 'And you told me about your teacher.'
Jack smiled slightly. 'Well, there's you too.'
Tilly's stomach stayed right up there, showing no sign of coming down. Her mouth bone-dry, she said, 'Oh…'
'Sounds like a line, doesn't it?' He looked rueful. 'Like the kind of thing you wouldn't take seriously because I can't possibly mean it, because you don't trust me, because I have a bad reputation, and I've probably said it a hundred times before.'
Light-headedness vied with light-stomachedness. True to form, Tilly heard herself say flippantly, 'Only a hundred?'
He shrugged, restarted the car. 'See? But what if I haven't said it before? What if I'm serious?'
Did he seriously expect her to believe he was serious? Was he honestly expecting her to answer that question? Tilly's knuckles whitened as she hung on to the still-open passenger door.
'Well?' said Jack.
Blimey, he did.
'I'd say you had some persuading to do.'
'OK.' A glimmer of a smile. 'That makes sense. Let's see if I can manage persuasive.'
Chapter 29
ERIN HADN'T SEEN KAYE since her last visit home at Christmas. Delighted to see her again when Tilly brought her into the shop, she updated Kaye with the story of Scary Stella while Tilly, in the changing room, attempted to battle her way into a lace-up-the-back summer dress that was infinitely covetable but two sizes too small for her.
'Stella. I haven't seen her since I've been back.' Kaye pulled a face. 'You know what? She always used to intimidate me. I went into her shop once and she ended up giving me the phone number of her eyebrow technician. Which made me feel fantastic about my eyebrows, I can tell you.'
'She's still the same. Except more likely to give me the number of the local executioner. Fergus is lovely.' Erin sighed. 'We're so happy together. It's just impossible to really relax and enjoy ourselves when we're forever wondering what Stella might do next.'
'I can't get into this dress,' panted Tilly, inside the cubicle. 'It's too small! This isn't a dress for a human being; it's Barbie-sized.'
'We think she might kidnap Max and force him to have sex with her,' said Kaye with a wicked grin.
'Oh God, don't,' Erin groaned; she hadn't even found out about that until after her run-in with Stella in the chemist's. 'I'm so sorry he got dragged into it.'
'Don't worry about Max, he can look after himself. Ooh, is that a Von Etzdorf?' She flung the sunrise-yellow devoré velvet scarf round her neck. 'And don't feel guilty about Stella either. She treated Fergus like a piece of dog poo for years.' She surveyed herself in the mirror. 'I like this.'
'That color really suits you.' Erin wasn't angling for a sale; it was the truth.
'Ha, that's something else Stella said to me once: "Poor you, being so pale. I bet you wish you had skin that tanned like mine." Right, I'm going to have this. You know, the brilliant thing about buying secondhand clothes is you never have to feel guilty, because everything's such a bargain.'
'And it's a form of recycling.' Tilly's disembodied voice drifted out to them.
'Are you winning in there?' said Erin.
'No.'
'Here, I've got something you might like. It just came in this morning.' Nipping into the back room, Erin returned with a spaghetti strapped lilac silk dress with mother-of-pearl beading around the bustline. She passed it over the door of the cubicle. 'Give this a go.'
Tilly emerged two minutes later. The dress flattered her coloring and fit like a dream. Erin clapped her hands. 'I love my job. You look… fab.'
Flushing with pleasure, Tilly said, 'I had a panic yesterday. We were at Jamie Michaels' house and Tandy started asking me what I'd be wearing to their party. Then she took a phone call from one of the other WAGs and I overheard her saying her biggest nightmare would be if anyone turned up wearing High Street.'
'Cheek!' Kaye was indignant. 'That would make me want to.'
'I know, but it's not about me, is it? It's Max's business and I don't want to let the side down.'
'I've got so many gorgeous dresses over in the States.' Regretfully, Kaye said, 'I may as well sell them all, seeing as it's going to be at least fifty years before anyone invites me to another party.'
Erin felt for her. 'We're in the same boat, aren't we? Both of us blamed for something we didn't do.'
'But you're lucky, at least you've got Fergus. Look at me,' said Kaye. 'My career is in shreds, I'm living in a doll's house, and the only male attention I've had since Christmas is from the old bloke with the squint who collects the trolleys at the supermarket.'
'He's not the only one,' Tilly protested. 'There's that fan who sent you chocolates.'
'Which I didn't get to eat. And he lives six thousand miles away. Plus, we've never actually met.' Kaye ticked off each point on her fingers. 'So he doesn't count.'
'Now you're going to make me feel guilty about telling you my happy news.' Reaching under the counter, Erin brought out a holiday brochure. She rolled it up and clonked Tilly on the head to stop her admiring herself in the full-length mirror. 'Hey, are you listening? I'm going away on holiday!'
That caught Tilly's attention. 'What? But you haven't been anywhere for years.'
'I know!' Erin was beaming like a lunatic. 'Fergus is taking me.'
'You always said you couldn't afford to close the shop.'
'I did, but this time I'm going to do it anyway. We need the break. Imagine, a whole week away without having to worry about Scary Stella. And guess where we're going?'
'A muddy caravan site in North Wales.'
'Close. Venice!'
'Oh wow!'
'Now that,' said Kaye, 'is seriously romantic.'
'I know,' Erin said joyfully. 'And it's somewhere I've always wanted to visit. I'm so excited! Look, this is where we're going to be staying; it's a palazzo overlooking the Grand Canal.' Eagerly she showed them the hotel in the brochure. 'Fourteenth century, views of the Rialto Bridge, it's even got a roof garden.'
'That's fantastic.' Tilly squeezed her arm. 'And you deserve it.'
'When Fergus told me, I burst into tears,' said Erin. 'We're going for a week at the end of the month. I can't wait.'
'And you're closing the shop?' said Kaye as Tilly disappeared back into the cubicle to change out of her new dress.
Erin nodded. She'd asked Barbara, who had helped her out on occasions in the past, but Barbara was unable to do it this time. 'It's fine. It's only for a week.'
'Because I could always look after it for you. If you want,' Kaye added when she saw the stunned look on Erin's face.
'Are you serious?'
'Why wouldn't I be?'
Erin flapped her hands. 'Sorry, I just wasn't expecting this. I mean, you're a Hollywood actress. It'd be like walking into the post office and Joan Collins selling you a book of stamps.'
'Except Joan still has a career,' Kaye pointed out, 'and I don't. I'm unemployable for the foreseeable future. And it drives me nuts, sitting around doing nothing. I'd love to run your shop for a week, if you think you can trust me.'