by Jill Mansell
‘Occupational hazard,’ he said good-naturedly.
‘I’ll get you a carrier bag,’ Lola offered.
‘I’d rather have a private word, if that’s all right. In your office?’
Bum, so he hadn’t forgotten. Lola felt herself go pink, glanced awkwardly at her watch. ‘Um…’
‘Just for a couple of minutes.’ Turning to the rep and the PR girl, EJ said, ‘That’s OK, isn’t it?’
‘Of course it’s OK,’ the PR girl exclaimed. ‘Take as long as you like! Take a couple of hours if you want to!’ Because being lovely to her company’s authors was her job.
The light glinted off EJ’s steel-rimmed spectacles as he smiled briefly at the enthusiastic blonde. ‘Don’t worry, a couple of minutes will be fine.’
Once inside the office Lola said, ‘OK, I’m sorry, I told a fib.’
‘More than one, at a guess.’ He leaned against the chaotic desk, counting off on his fingers. ‘The pregnant woman isn’t—never was—your partner. Was she even pregnant?’
Shamefaced, Lola said, ‘No.’
‘And the smell?’
‘We boiled an awful lot of cabbage.’
‘You really didn’t want me moving into that flat, did you?’
‘Oh, please don’t take it personally. We didn’t know who you were. Whoever turned up, we were just going to do everything we could to put them off. Like playing that music…’ Lola’s voice trailed away, because they’d been playing Eminem. Damn, hadn’t she overheard a fan earlier, gushing about the album EJ had worked on with Eminem?
‘Hmm.’ EJ raised an eyebrow. ‘The music was fine, it was the dancing that worried me. So who lives there now?’
‘Um, Sally. The one who wasn’t pregnant. And the guy who was meant to be letting the flat unexpectedly came back from Australia so they’re both in there now, driving each other nuts.’ Eagerly Lola said, ‘So in fact you had a bit of a lucky escape…’
‘Look, it’s not that big a deal.’ He shrugged and helped himself to a Liquorice Allsort from the bag on the desk. ‘I live in Hertfordshire and staying in hotels whenever I’m up in town gets tedious. I just thought it’d be easier to have a base here, somewhere to crash when I can’t be bothered to drive home. I’m renting a place in Hampstead now.’
Lola was just glad he’d taken it in his stride. ‘Well, I’m sorry we messed you about.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ His gaze slid downwards to where, having eased off one shoe, Lola was surreptitiously flexing her aching toes. ‘Been a long day?’
‘Just a bit. I can’t wait to get home and run a bath.’ Relieved to have been forgiven, she confided, ‘My feet are killing me and I’m completely shattered.’
‘Shame, I was just about to ask if you fancied a drink. Ah well, never mind.’
‘Oh!’ Lola’s eyes widened.
‘Doesn’t matter. Thanks for this evening anyway, I enjoyed it.’ EJ had reached the office door now. ‘Shall we go?’
‘But… but…’ Wow, that was an invitation she hadn’t expected, a bolt from the blue. Following him, Lola said, ‘Well, maybe a drink wouldn’t be so—’
‘No, no, you’re too tired.’ He turned back, his thin clever face pale beneath the overhead fluorescent strip lighting. ‘Forget I asked. You get yourself home and jump into that hot bath.’ With a glimmer of a smile he added, ‘You do look exhausted.’
Ouch. Or maybe touché. Talk about getting your own back.
Chapter 33
The advance proof copy of EJ Mack’s book, given to her months ago by the publisher’s sales rep, was lying under her bed unopened and covered in dust. Wiping it clean on the carpet, Lola raced barefoot across the landing to 73C. Oh, for heaven’s sake, Gabe was bound to be out and he hadn’t thought to leave the door on the latch; how long was she going to have to wait for Sally to hobble across and unlock it?
Impatiently she hammered on the door. ‘Sal, quick, just roll off that sofa, crawl over here and let me in this minute because you are not going to believe who I met tonight!’ Then, as the door began to open, ‘And by the way, everyone at work was agog when they heard you were my pregnant lesbian lover—ooh!’
Of course it hadn’t been Sally answering the door that quickly. Of course it had to be Doug, whom Lola hadn’t seen for three weeks, not since New Year’s Eve at the Carrick when she’d made such a dazzling impression. Bloody Mary Ann Cross.
‘So now you’re having a lesbian affair with my sister.’ Doug shook his head in resignation. ‘My God, you really do want to give my mother a heart attack.’
‘Sorry. Hi, Doug, I didn’t know you were here.’ Otherwise I’d have quickly redone my make-up and definitely not just made myself that cheese and pickled onion toasted sandwich.
‘You know, I wish I was gay,’ complained Sally, lying in state across the sofa. ‘We’re far nicer people. It’s got to be easier fancying women than fancying men.’
‘Not when they reek of pickled onions,’ said Doug.
Ouch.
Then again, speaking of fancying men. Doing her best not to breathe near him, Lola said, ‘No Isabel tonight?’ and for a split second allowed herself to get her hopes up. (‘Isabel, I’m sorry, it’s not you I love, it’s—’)
‘Yes, I’m here too!’ Emerging from the kitchen with a tray, Isabel said gaily, ‘Hi, Lola, look at us, meals on wheels!’
‘I ran out of milk.’ Sally eased herself into more of a sitting position, wincing with pain as she shifted her leg a couple of inches on its pile of cushions. ‘Gabe’s been gone for hours and he gets cross with me when I keep phoning him, so I gave Doug a call instead.’
To be fair to Gabe, Lola had heard about last night’s debacle when, whilst queuing at the pharmacy for Sally’s ibuprofen capsules, he had missed a headline-making punch-up between two A-listers outside Nobu.
‘Poor lamb, stuck here all on her own with no milk for a cup of tea,’ Isabel trilled. ‘Then when we said we’d pop over with a couple of pints she mentioned how hungry she was and asked us to bring her a takeaway.’
The poor starving lamb had the grace to look faintly ashamed at this point, as well she might. Lola said indignantly, ‘What happened to the lasagna I brought over this morning? All you had to do was heat it up.’
‘It’s still in the fridge,’ Sally admitted. ‘Sorry, I was just in the mood for a Chinese.’ Hastily she changed the subject. ‘So who did you meet tonight?’
Lola’s stomach was still rumbling, baying for attention, despite the toasted sandwich. Oh well, if Sally didn’t want the lasagna—the delicious homemade lasagna she’d put together completely from scratch—she’d jolly well eat it herself. ‘Remember the geeky speccy guy who wanted this flat? Him!’
‘Yeek, you mean he came into the shop and saw you? Was it embarrassing?’
‘Just a bit, seeing as he was doing a signing. By the way, he asked after you and the baby.’
Sally patted her stomach. ‘We’re doing great, thanks.’
Lola, still clutching the book in her hand, said, ‘Have you ever heard of EJ Mack?’
‘The music bloke? Worked with Madonna last year?’ Popping a forkful of chicken Sichuan into her mouth, Sally shrugged. ‘Kind of.’
‘EJ Mack’s a genius,’ Isabel exclaimed. ‘He’s worked with everyone.’
‘Well, it was him,’ said Lola.
Sally almost choked on a mushroom. ‘What? EJ Mack’s the speccy geek? Oh my God, he’s like a mega-millionaire and we didn’t even know…’
‘Sounds like you missed your chance there, girls!’ As she said it, Isabel slipped her arm around Doug’s waist and gave it a proprietary squeeze, signaling, oh you poor creatures, here I am with the perfect man and there’s you two with not even a half-decent one to share between you… gosh, don’t you just wish you we
re as pretty and lucky as me?
Honestly, who did she think she was? Cinderella? More to the point, who were the ugly stepsisters? Inwardly nettled—for heaven’s sake, she was still clinging on to Doug—Lola said airily, ‘Who says I missed my chance? EJ and I got on brilliantly. He asked me out.’
Oh yes, that made them sit up and take notice!
‘Seriously?’ Isabel’s eyebrows shot up.
Even Doug looked impressed.
Sally squealed, ‘The geek asked you out!’
‘Actually, he’s not as geeky as we thought.’ Lola rushed to EJ’s defence. ‘He wears those clothes because he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself. And behind those glasses his face is really quite interesting… and he has these amazing cheekbones…’
‘So what you’re saying is, the more money he has, the better looking he becomes,’ Doug drawled with just a hint of eyeroll.
‘Last time we saw him he hardly said anything at all.’ Reaching over to pinch a handful of Sally’s prawn crackers, Lola said defiantly, ‘Tonight I found out he has a really nice personality.’
Doug’s mouth twitched. ‘Of course you did.’
‘So you’re actually going out with him?’ Sally was so excited she dropped her fork. ‘On a date?’
‘Let’s hope he doesn’t forget to bring along his platinum Amex,’ said Doug.
‘Could somebody pick my fork up, please?’
‘He asked me out tonight,’ said Lola. ‘But I was worried about Sal being stuck here all on her own, so I turned him down.’ There, ha, now who was the most selfless, thoughtful and downright saintly person in this room?
‘Aah, isn’t that nice?’ Sally beamed. ‘Then again, I bet your feet were killing you in those new shoes you wore to work today. And far nicer to have some notice to get yourself tarted up. So when are you seeing him instead?’
Lola flushed. ‘I’m not. He asked me out and I said no thanks. We left it at that.’
‘Are you mad? You can’t not see him again! He’s EJ Mack!’
‘Well, it’s too late now.’ Throwing up her hands, Lola said, ‘At least I can say I turned him down.’
Doug’s face was deadpan. ‘Either that or he never asked her out in the first place.’
‘Oh Doug, you are wicked.’ Isabel gave him a pretend slap. ‘You can’t call Lola a liar!’
‘You’d be surprised what I can call Lola.’ He scooped up his car keys from the coffee table and raised a hand in farewell. ‘When it comes to scruples and honesty she’s in a class of her own. Right, we’re off…’
‘I can’t imagine why I’m in love with your brother,’ Lola said crossly when Doug and Isabel had left. ‘He’s a complete arse.’
***
‘You’re not doing terribly well, are you?’ said Colin Carter of the Carter Agency.
Gabe sighed and shook his head. Was he about to be told he should give up the day job? He hadn’t had much luck during the past few weeks.
But Colin was a kindly soul. ‘Don’t be too downhearted. You’re only ever one photo away from the next worldwide scoop. Look, we’ve had a tip-off that Savannah Hudson’s holed up in a cottage in the wilds of Gloucestershire. She’s been keeping a low profile lately. Here’s the address.’ He handed over a scrap of paper and said, ‘No one else knows about it, so this could be your big chance. Don’t bugger it up.’
‘Right, thanks, I won’t.’ Gabe was torn because he’d been short with Sally this morning—she’d woken him at five o’clock, calling out from her bedroom to ask him to turn off her beeping, run-down mobile phone—yet he knew she was the only reason Colin was giving him this break. He owed her for that, but at the same time she was doing his head in.
‘You do know who Savannah Hudson is,’ Colin double-checked, because last night Gabe had mistaken Keira Knightley for Natalie Portman.
‘Don’t worry. I know who she is.’ Gabe nodded vigorously to prove it as he tucked the address into his wallet. ‘I won’t let you down.’
Chapter 34
London had been cold, grey, and a tad breezy. Out in the Cotswolds the weather was rather less subtle; huge clouds raced across a gunmetal sky and there was a howling gale. Driving across Minchinhampton Common, high and brutally exposed, Gabe half expected to see the cows and sheep being swept off their feet and whisked into the air. Even the players on the golf course were struggling to stay vertical.
Which wasn’t great news as far as Gabe was concerned because it meant there wasn’t a huge incentive for Savannah Hudson to venture outside.
The cottage was perched on the side of a hill, only slightly set back from the narrow lane winding its way down from the common towards the small country town of Nailsworth. There was a nondescript green Peugeot parked in the driveway and a couple of lights on in the cottage, indicating that she was probably in there. Needless to say, there was nowhere to park outside the cottage; the lane was single-track with passing places dotted along its length. No sooner had Gabe pulled into one than a tractor came chugging up the hill as a yellow Fiesta appeared behind him, forcing him on. Which meant he was going to have to leave his warm car further down the hill and spend the afternoon lurking in a wet hedge. It was probably one of the reasons Savannah Hudson had chosen to hide out in this cottage. Honestly, these camera-shy celebrities were so selfish.
Having parked in Nailsworth, Gabe stocked up in the bakery with a selection of pies and cakes to keep him going and stave off the tedium. He put a can of Coke and a bottle of water in the pockets of his Barbour. Back at the car he took out his camera, careful to keep it hidden from view, and slung it around his neck under the waxed jacket. Please God, make today the day he got a decent shot and could prove to Colin he wasn’t a complete waste of space.
Two hours later Gabe had cramp in his legs. He was going out of his mind with boredom. It would be getting dark soon, he’d eaten all his food and it was obvious Savannah Hudson wasn’t going to emerge from the cottage. The only good thing about the afternoon was that the pies from the bakery had been excellent.
Bugger, he wasn’t going to be able to impress Colin after all. Unless he knocked on the door of the cottage, fell to his knees, and begged Savannah Hudson to take pity on him. Maybe she would, and he could just take a couple of quick faux-candid shots…
What the hell, it was worth a try. He unfolded his long legs, brushed himself down and headed for the cottage. There was definitely someone inside, he could see their outline through the drawn curtains as they moved about in the lit-up living room.
Putting on his most charming face—the one that didn’t seem to be getting a lot of use these days—Gabe braced himself and rat-tatted the black wrought-iron knocker.
The door was opened by a middle-aged woman in a purple velour tracksuit, clutching a duster and a can of lemon Pledge.
‘Oh, hi,’ charming smile, charming smile, ‘I’m here to see Savannah.’
‘Sorry, duck, she’s not here. Friend of hers, are you?’
Gabe knew he should say yes, then he might be invited into the cottage. He sighed inwardly; this was why he was so crap at this job. ‘No, not a friend exactly…’
‘Off you go then, duck.’ The woman’s expression changed.
‘Wait, do you know when she might be back?’
‘Maybe tomorrow or the day after. Bye.’ The door was closed firmly in his face.
That was that then. If the woman had been lying and Savannah Hudson was inside the house, she wouldn’t be coming out now.
Terrific. No photos and it was starting to rain. He may as well get back to the car before the heavens opened.
At least it was downhill.
As he set off down the lane, Gabe tried to work out what time he’d be home. His social life had taken a serious nosedive lately, what with work and having to look after Sally-the-whinin
g-cripple and getting over the whole bloody soul-destroying business with Jaydena. Maybe a night off was what he needed, a few hours of mindless drinking and clubbing with old friends, chatting up girls, possibly even getting some long-overdue sex… Ha, so long as they could go back to her place, because if he brought someone home to Radley Road they were bound to be interrupted in mid-shag by Sally banging on the wall that separated their bedrooms, bleating, ‘Gabe, I’m really thirsty and my leg hurts too much for me to get out of bed, could you bring me a glass of water pleeease?’
Oh yes, her leg was definitely a pain. The only good thing about it as far as Gabe was concerned was that having Sally physically confined to the sofa all day meant the mess she created was confined to that area. The rest of the flat, practically undisturbed, was really quite tidy and—
Bloody hell.
Having rounded a bend, Gabe saw a figure hurrying up the lane towards him with a bag of shopping in one hand and a dog on a lead in the other. His brain shot into overdrive as he took in the oversized jacket, the skinny legs in skinnier jeans, the blonde head almost hidden beneath the hood of the jacket and the thick grey scarf wound round her neck… Bloody hell, it was her; Savannah Hudson was heading straight for him, this was his big chance.
Then her head tilted up and she saw him, her actress’s antennae on instant alert. As her hood blew back she stopped in her tracks, like a deer hearing the click of the hunter’s rifle. Gabe, already reaching for the camera slung around his neck, realized she was about to bolt and called out, ‘Please, could I just take one picture of—’
But the wind whipped his words away. Savannah was backing off, dragging the dog with her. The dog, a black and tan Jack Russell, began barking furiously, leaping up on its back legs. Tugging harder to keep it under control, Savannah almost dropped her bag of shopping. Then a ferocious blast of wind knocked her off balance and sent her staggering sideways into the verge. She let out a shriek of alarm as the hedge bordering the lane bent and swayed, grasping at her with branches like mad spiky fingers.