by Jill Mansell
‘Fire away.’
Sally eyed him in his falling-to-pieces Levi’s, bare feet and ancient T-shirt full of holes. ‘Don’t you think it’s a bit weird to be so tidy and nitpicky and go around looking such a scruffy mess?’
It had been a genuine question—she was interested, that’s all—but Gabe instantly got his hackles up.
‘No. Don’t you think it’s weird that you go around looking like you’ve stepped out of Vogue, yet at home you live in a tip?’
She pointed a warning finger. ‘Look, we’re stuck with each other, for better or worse. Please don’t start being annoying again.’
For several seconds their eyes locked. Sally could tell he was struggling to control his irritation. Lola hadn’t said as much, but she wouldn’t be surprised if Gabe was a little bit gay on the quiet. He was exceptionally good-looking for a start. Obsessive-compulsive when it came to tidiness. And what straight man would ever have eyelashes that long?
‘Right. Sorry.’ Evidently having reminded himself that he was supposed to be making amends, Gabe said, ‘How about a cup of tea?’
Oh well, she could be conciliatory too. ‘Great. White please, one sugar.’
‘And I’m making fettuccine Alfredo if you’re hungry.’
Ha, absolutely without a question gay. Bisexual anyway. The Australian girl must have found out—caught him flirting with some leathery-wiry Crocodile Dundee type or something—and packed him off on the first flight home.
But who cared, if he was a good cook? Sally slipped out of her shoes and removed her silver drop earrings. ‘I love fettuccine Alfredo. OK if I have a shower first?’
‘Fine.’ But the way the word came out, it didn’t sound fine.
‘What? Why are you looking at me like that?’ From the way Gabe was acting, you’d think she’d just ripped the head off a baby bird.
‘You’re just going to disappear into the bathroom and take a shower now?’
Sally gazed at him in disbelief. ‘Am I supposed to make an appointment?’
‘No.’
‘You want me to say please? Is that it?’
A muscle was thudding away in Gabe’s jaw. ‘No, I don’t want you to say please. I just don’t want you doing what you’ve just done.’
He was off his rocker. Would he prefer her not to breathe? Bewildered, Sally said, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘This!’ He pointed to the dumped carriers, and to her coat and umbrella on the chair. ‘This.’ Her handbag on the coffee table. ‘Those.’ Her shoes on the carpet. ‘And them.’ Her silver earrings on the window ledge. ‘And those.’ The armful of glossy magazines she’d tried to put on the arm of the sofa, which had slithered off and landed in a heap on the floor. ‘You came into this flat one minute ago and look at the mess!’
‘Oh. Sorry.’ Was that really what was upsetting him? ‘I’ll pick them up later,’ Sally said nicely, to humor him. ‘I promise.’
‘No you won’t, you’ll pick them up now.’
‘But I’m just—’
‘Now,’ Gabe repeated firmly.
‘But—’
‘Or I throw them out of the window into the street.’
God, talk about neurotic. But since he clearly wasn’t going to give in, she rolled her eyes and retraced her steps around the living room, picking everything up. Even though it was a complete waste of time because she was going to need all these things when she left for work tomorrow morning.
‘Good. Well done,’ said Gabe when she’d finished.
You had to pity him really.
Sally said sarcastically, ‘Thank you, Mr Anal.’
‘My pleasure, Miss Slob.’
***
‘Where’s Sally? Have you strangled her yet?’ Having followed the smell of cooking up the stairs, Lola gave Gabe a hug.
‘Give me a couple more days.’
‘Ooh, Alfredo. My favorite.’ She inspected the pans on the hob. ‘So apart from the tidiness thing, how d’you think the two of you’ll get on?’
‘God knows. If I met her in a bar I’d think she was fine,’ said Gabe. ‘But that’s because I wouldn’t know what she’s really like.’ He paused. ‘She doesn’t have a boyfriend, right?’
Lola pulled a face. ‘No. Bit of a disastrous history with men. One of them jilted her practically at the altar.’
‘And we don’t have to wonder why.’
‘That’s mean. You’ve just been dumped yourself.’
Gabe shrugged and tipped fettuccine into a pan of boiling water. ‘I’m just saying, she could get a crush on me. I don’t need that kind of hassle. Platonic flat-sharing only works as long as one person doesn’t secretly fancy the pants off the other.’
Enthralled, Lola said, ‘You think she fancies you?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ Another pause. ‘It’s happened before. And let me tell you, it’s the last thing I need right now.’
Lola pinched a slice of parmesan; she loved to tease Gabe about his effect on women. ‘Serves you right for being so gorgeous. What did Sally do to give herself away then?’
‘Oh, you know those looks girls give you. She was doing it earlier.’ Gabe added a carton of double cream to the garlic sizzling in the pan. ‘That kind of moony, pouty thing. I just thought, oh God, please don’t start, I can’t be doing with—shit!’
The hairbrush whistled past his ear and ricocheted off the kitchen wall. ‘What the…?’ Gabe twisted round in disbelief.
‘Sorry, but someone had to shut you up.’ Sally was in the doorway, wrapped in a brown silk dressing gown, her hair wet from the shower and her face the picture of outrage. ‘You’re talking rubbish, you’re making it all up! You’ve been chucked by some girl in Australia who didn’t find you irresistible so now you’re fantasizing that someone else likes you, to give your ego a bit of a boost. But you can’t go around saying stuff like that.’ Her eyes glittered. ‘Because it’s not true.’
‘OK, I’m sorry. I got it wrong. You could have done me an injury with that hairbrush,’ said Gabe.
‘I meant to. I’m just not a very good shot.’ Turning to Lola, Sally said, ‘And you believed everything he was telling you!’
Lola shook her head apologetically. ‘He’s usually right. Most girls do fancy him. Gabe’s a bit of an expert when it comes to that sort of thing.’
‘Well, he’s got it wrong this time, because I promise you I don’t fancy him, and I definitely wasn’t giving him any kind of moony pouty look.’ Brimming with derision, Sally said, ‘If anything, I was thinking that any man who makes such a big fuss about keeping his flat perfect is probably gay.’
Lola stifled laughter but Sally was clearly peeved.
‘I’m not gay,’ said Gabe.
‘And I don’t fancy you. At all.’
‘Fine. I believe you.’
‘Ha, you’re saying that now, to be polite. But I bet you secretly still think I do.’
‘I promise I don’t think that. Cross my heart and hope to die. And in return you have to stop thinking I’m gay.’
‘Could we call a truce and stop talking about you two now?’ Lola had been patient but enough was enough. Plaintively she said, ‘If nobody minds, I’d quite like us to talk about me.’
Chapter 22
Over dinner Lola brought them up to date with the Newfound Father situation.
‘I phoned Mum today to try and casually drop Nick’s name into the conversation, and she said, “Oh hello, darling, you just caught us, Malcolm and I are off to Cardiff.” She told me they’re spending the night with Malcolm’s brother and his family. So I couldn’t really say anything about Nick James, could I? I’ll have to wait until she gets back. To be honest, I hadn’t realized she and Malcolm were getting so serious, I thought they were just good
friends, but Mum said he wants to introduce her to everyone.’ Lola paused and tore into a chunk of focaccia. ‘I don’t know how I feel about that. I mean, it’s not that I don’t like Malcolm. He’s just… well, not the kind of man I had in mind for my mum. He has this awful beard that makes you want to pin him down and hack away at it with nail scissors. And he wears weird baggy sweaters, and sandals with the hairs on his toes poking through…’
‘Over the years I’m sure she’s wished you’d chosen different boyfriends,’ said Gabe, ‘but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Besides, they’re visiting his brother in Cardiff, not eloping to Gretna Green.’
Lola pulled a face. ‘I really hope they’re not sleeping together.’
Brightly Sally said, ‘At least she’s too old to get pregnant.’
Which was another mental image Lola could do without. Mopping up the last of the Alfredo sauce from her plate, she amused herself instead by watching Gabe pretend not to care that Sally had dripped Frascati from her glass onto the table.
‘And how would you have felt if you’d met your father for the first time,’ Sally went on, ‘and he looked just like this Malcolm character?’ Her tone was encouraging. ‘It wouldn’t put you off him then, would it?’
Oh crikey, it might. Especially the hairy toes. Lola went hot and cold at the thought. At least Nick James hadn’t done that to her; she was almost sure he wasn’t the type to get his toes out in public or wear—
‘You’ve spilled a bit of wine,’ Gabe blurted out.
Sally shrugged comfortably. ‘Never mind, it’s only white.’
Gabe sighed. Lola kept a straight face and watched him pointedly not saying anything.
‘Oh, look at yourself.’ Sally grinned and reached behind her for the magazine she’d been allowed to leave—neatly—in the magazine rack. She opened it out, turned it upside down and blotted up the wine. ‘There, better now?’
‘Yes. Although a normal person might have used kitchen roll.’
‘This was closer.’ Turning the magazine back over and studying the wet pages, Sally said, ‘Anyway, it’s only Jack Nicholson in his swimming shorts. He won’t mind.’
‘Ah, look at him.’ Lola leaned across to peer at the shot. ‘Got a bit of a belly on him now. I had such a crush on that man when I first saw One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.’
‘She has pretty strange taste in crushes.’ Gabe reached for the Frascati bottle. ‘More wine?’
‘Yes please. Try not to spill it this time. Go on,’ Sally flashed him a saucy smile, ‘who else does she like?’
‘Ricky Gervais.’
‘Euww.’
‘That’s supposed to be a secret.’ Commandeering the magazine, Lola riffled through in search of inspiration. ‘I have normal crushes too.’ She jabbed triumphantly at a photo on the next page. ‘Jude Law, he’s one. And Johnny Depp, obviously.’
‘Not to mention Richard Branson,’ said Gabe.
‘And my brother,’ Sally chimed in. She wrinkled her nose. ‘To me, that’s even weirder than fancying Alan Sugar.’
‘They’re both mean. But in a sexy way. Ooh, that reminds me, Tom Dutton.’ Lola’s eyes lit up and she puffed out her cheeks in appreciation. ‘Now he’s mean and sexy. And wasn’t he fantastic in Over You? I cry my eyes out every time I see it. Gabe came with me to the cinema and was laughing at me as usual… where are you going?’ She swiveled round as Gabe jumped up and headed for his bedroom. ‘Can’t stand the competition? Feeling inadequate? Worried that no one will ever fancy you again?’
Gabe returned with his camera. ‘I forgot to tell you. I saw him.’
‘Richard Branson?’ Lola’s heart gave a little skippety skip of excitement. It was one of her fantasies that Sir Richard would one day march into Kingsley’s in a filthy mood because he urgently needed a certain book and no one in any of the other bloody useless bookshops in the whole of London had been able to bloody help him. Then he’d fix her with his challenging, pissed-off stare and bark out the name of the book and she, Lola, would say, ‘Sir Richard, we did have a copy of this book in stock, but it was sold this morning. Happily,’ she’d continue before he could explode with frustration, ‘it was sold to me, and I have it in my bag, out in the back office. If you like, I’ll get it for you now.’ And the look of relief on Sir Richard’s face—relief and respect—would be just fantastic. Naturally he would whisk her off at once in his limo and insist on treating her to lunch at the Oxo Tower—
‘Not him. Tom Dutton.’ Whilst Lola was joyfully running through her favorite daydream, Gabe had been busy with his laptop.
‘What? Where? At the airport?’
‘On the way to it. Hang on, nearly there.’
‘You’re so lucky,’ wailed Sally. ‘I never see anyone interesting. Bumped into Dale Winton once in a newsagents and that’s about it. He was buying TicTacs and—ooh!’
‘Let me see.’ Lola joined them in front of the laptop and jostled with Sally in order to gaze at the photo Gabe had brought up on the screen. ‘Wow, it is him. Who’s he kissing?’
A second photo flashed up and Lola saw at once who it was. Next to her Sally let out a squeal of recognition and yelped, ‘Jessica Lee!’
‘I thought you’d like to see them.’ Pleased with himself, Gabe clicked onto the third photo, the one showing Tom loping back to his car. ‘They pulled up separately at this service station and disappeared together up a side alley. I just happened to have the camera in my hand. I knew you’d think I was making it up if I didn’t have proof.’ His fingers hovered over the laptop’s touchpad. ‘I could make this one your screensaver if you like. Or shall I just delete them?’
‘Excuse me! Are you mad?’ To be on the safe side Sally grabbed his hand before he could press anything drastic and lose the photos forever. ‘It’s Tom Dutton and Jessica Lee!’
‘I know.’ Gabe looked aggrieved. ‘That’s why I thought Lola would be interested.’
He didn’t understand. He didn’t have a clue. Lola and Sally exchanged glances.
‘This is two major Hollywood celebs we’re talking about,’ said Sally.
‘Bloody hell, will you stop treating me like a three-year-old? I know that!’
Lola patted his shoulder. ‘They’re snogging.’
‘So?’
‘So, no one knows they’re even seeing each other.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because if it was known, it would be in all the papers,’ Sally patiently explained. ‘Because those of us who aren’t major Hollywood celebs are interested in things like that.’
‘Ri-ight.’ Gabe was still looking baffled. Gossip magazines simply didn’t feature in his life.
It was time to treat him like a three-year-old. Sally tapped the photos on the screen. ‘You can sell these, Gabe. For a lot of money.’
‘Oh!’ He frowned. ‘What, to a newspaper?’
‘To a picture agency,’ Sally said promptly. ‘They’re the experts. They’ll sell the rights to newspapers and magazines all over the world. It’s money for old rope. We can phone one right now. These photos were taken how long ago? Three days? Wow, you’re lucky no one else has caught them since then. This is what’s known as a scoop.’
‘Hold on, hold on,’ Gabe protested. ‘I’m not so sure about this. What if they don’t want people to find out? They might already have partners.’
‘Oh, aren’t you sweet?’ Sally looked at him as if he were a puppy, then said briskly, ‘Number one, they don’t. Jessica Lee broke up with Kevin Masterson six weeks ago and Tom hasn’t had a girlfriend for months. Number two, it’s not your job to protect celebs. If they’re playing away and get caught out, that’s not your problem. In fact it jolly well serves them right, and their other halves should know what’s been going on behind their backs.’
Dryly G
abe said, ‘There speaks someone who’s had it done to her.’
‘Well, yes, I have.’ Sally looked indignant. ‘Not that I did anything to deserve it.’
‘Has it ever occurred to you that they might not have been able to handle the way you live? Who knows, maybe if you’d been a bit tidier,’ Gabe shrugged, ‘you could have been down off that shelf by now.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ Sally exploded. ‘I’m trying to help you here and you’re being completely ungrateful. Go on then, press the delete button, just wipe those photos out. See if I care.’
‘Will you two give it a rest?’ complained Lola. ‘I’m starting to feel like a Relate counselor. Here you go.’ She dumped a copy of the Yellow Pages in front of Gabe. ‘Find a picture agency and give them a ring.’
‘How do I know which one to choose?’
‘That one.’ Leaning over Gabe’s shoulder, Sally pointed to a small box advert for the Carter Agency.
Gabe twisted round to look at her. ‘Why?’
‘I know Colin Carter. He’s married to my friend Janey. That’s how I know about picture agencies,’ said Sally. ‘Colin’s a good bloke and he wouldn’t rip you off. I can give him a ring now if you like, tell him what you’ve got.’
‘Great.’ Gabe passed her his phone.
But Sally hadn’t completely forgiven him yet. As she began keying in the number she said crisply, ‘Not that you deserve it. I can’t imagine why I’m being so kind to you when you’re always so horrible to me.’
Chapter 23
The photographs appeared in the Daily Mirror two days later. They were also sold to newspapers and magazines all over the world. Colin Carter had just phoned Gabe and told him that he had a good eye for a picture; if he came up with any more photos he should be sure to give him a call.
It was Christmas Eve and without ever having considered it, Gabe now found himself with the possibility of a brand new career as a member of the paparazzi.
He gazed at the newspapers spread out on the coffee table in front of him and frowned. ‘I couldn’t do it. Everyone hates the paparazzi.’