by Jill Mansell
‘You can’t stop me.’ Gabe was really losing it now. ‘It’s my flat!’
‘Which you rented to me. And I like living here.’ Sally’s eyes abruptly brimmed with tears. ‘What’s more, I’m not going to move out.’
‘Oh please.’ Lola was by this stage feeling absolutely terrible. ‘I’m sure we can arrange something. Who are you phoning? Not the police?’
Having pulled out her mobile, Sally was blindly jabbing at buttons. ‘I’m getting Doug over here. He’ll sort this out.’
Doug? Yeek, the very name was enough to set Lola’s heart racing. Would Gabe and Sally think her shallow if she quickly washed her hair and re-did her face before he turned up?
Chapter 20
The answer to that was a resounding yes, but she’d gone ahead and done it anyway. When Doug arrived at her flat forty minutes later he surveyed the three of them and said levelly, ‘What a mess.’
Lola really hoped he didn’t mean her. If she said so herself, she was looking pretty good.
‘You’re telling me.’ Gabe’s tone was curt. ‘Have you seen what your sister’s done to my flat?’
‘I don’t need to. I can guess. She’s not what you’d call tidy,’ said Doug with heroic understatement.
‘And she’s a liar.’ Gabe turned to Sally and said accusingly, ‘When we spoke on the phone, you told me you were completely trustworthy.’
‘I am!’
‘You promised you were super-housetrained.’
‘Oh God, you’re so picky.’ Sally rolled her eyes. ‘That’s just what people say when they want to rent somewhere. Like when you go for a job interview, you have to act all enthusiastic and tell everyone you’re a really hard worker. If you said you were a lazy toad who’d be late for your own funeral, they wouldn’t take you on, would they?’
Gabe threw his hands up in the air. ‘So you lied.’
‘It wasn’t a lie. Just a little fib. It’s not against the law to be untidy.’
Gabe addressed Doug. ‘I just want her out.’
‘I can see that,’ said Doug. ‘Right, tell me exactly what’s going on.’
When they’d finished explaining the situation, Doug looked at Lola and said, ‘So basically this is all your fault.’
‘Oh, of course it is. I do my best to help people out and this is what happens, this is the thanks I get.’
‘Legally,’ Doug turned to the others, ‘either of you can cause untold hassle to the other. If you ask me, that’s a waste of everyone’s time and money. Shall we go and take a look at the flat now?’
‘Everyone put on their anti-contamination suits,’ said Gabe.
Over in Gabe’s formerly pristine living room, now awash with magazines and clothes and abandoned food and make-up, Doug nodded sagely. ‘Oh yes, this is familiar.’
Defiantly Sally said, ‘But it’s still not an arrestable offence.’
‘What I don’t understand,’ Lola was puzzled, ‘is when I came to the house in Barnes, your bedroom was fine. Completely normal.’
‘That’s because I have a mother who nags for England.’ Sally heaved a sigh. ‘And because she has two cleaners who barge in and tidy my room every day. Which is why I was so keen to get out of there.’ Glaring defiantly at Gabe she added, ‘And why I’m definitely not going back.’
‘How many bedrooms here?’ Doug was exploring the flat. ‘Two?’
There was a pause.
‘I hope you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking,’ said Gabe.
Doug shrugged. ‘Do you have any better ideas?’
‘I have a very much better idea,’ Gabe retorted. ‘She’s your sister. You can take her home with you.’
‘Not a chance. Lola, could you have her?’
Sally complained. ‘You’re making me sound like a delinquent dog.’
‘Trust me,’ Gabe gestured around the room in disgust, ‘a delinquent dog wouldn’t make this much mess.’
‘I would take her.’ Keen though she was to scramble into Doug’s good books, Lola couldn’t quite bring herself to make the ultimate sacrifice and thankfully had a get-out clause. ‘But I’ve only got the one bedroom.’
‘Fine. So you two,’ Doug turned back to Gabe and Sally, ‘have a choice. You either hire yourselves a couple of solicitors to slug it out or you give flat-sharing a go for a couple of weeks.’
‘I can’t believe this is happening to me.’ The stubble on Gabe’s chin rasped as he rubbed his hands over his face.
‘You never know,’ Lola said hopefully. ‘It might work out better than you think.’
‘Ha! I’ll end up strangling her, then I’ll be arrested and slung in prison, then neither of us’ll end up living here.’ As he said the word prison, Gabe winced and looked apologetically at Lola. ‘Sorry.’
‘Right, decision time.’ Doug pointed to Sally. ‘Would you be willing to give it a try?’
Huffily she said, ‘Oh great, be chopped up into tiny pieces and hidden tidily away in a black bin bag. Just what I always wanted.’
‘So you’d prefer a solicitor. Expensive,’ mused Doug. ‘That’s a lot of shoes.’
You had to admire his style. Sally was now looking like a sulky fourth-grader being told her homework wasn’t up to scratch. Lola kept a straight face as Sally shrugged and said, ‘I don’t see why I should, but I suppose I could give sharing a go for a couple of weeks.’
Doug swung back to Gabe. ‘But you still want to stick with the legal route, or…?’
What a pro. He was like an auctioneer juggling bids. Entranced by his masterful air, Lola watched and held her breath.
Gabe hesitated, then exhaled and threw up his hands. ‘Oh, for God’s sake. We’ll try it, then. Seeing as I don’t have any choice.’
‘Good call,’ said Doug.
‘But only for a couple of weeks. Then she has to move out. And I’m not living like this.’ Gabe gestured at the floor in disgust.
‘We’ll help you clear the stuff away, won’t we?’ Lola beamed hopefully at Doug; now she could impress him by showing him how great she was at tidying up.
But Doug just looked at her as if she’d gone mad. ‘Me? Not a chance, I’m out of here. And you,’ he instructed Sally, ‘behave yourself and don’t give him a reason to chop you into pieces. Just try and get along together, OK? And put your clothes away once in a while.’
‘Not once in a while!’ Gabe exploded. ‘All the time!’
‘Oh, don’t start already,’ Sally jeered. ‘You sound like such an old woman.’
Doug forestalled their bickering. ‘My work here is done.’ His gaze fixed on Lola. ‘You can show me out.’
Lola’s breathing quickened; she so desperately wanted him to stop regarding her as the wickedest woman in Britain.
In the hallway downstairs Doug came straight to the point. ‘What was that about prison, earlier?’
He didn’t miss a trick.
‘What?’ Lola thought rapidly.
‘Your friend Gabe mentioned prison. Then he looked embarrassed and apologized. Who’s been to prison?’
‘My father.’
‘Really? God. Alex?’ Doug frowned. ‘What happened?’
Lola felt her throat tighten. ‘Not Alex. My real father. His name’s Nick James.’ Her voice began to wobble. ‘It’s all been a bit strange really. I only met him for the first time yesterday. Well, that’s not true, he’s been coming into Kingsley’s and chatting to me but it wasn’t until last night that he actually told me he was my real d-dad. And there was me, dressed like a r-rabbit… God, sorry, I wasn’t expecting this to h-h-happen. Must be having some kind of delayed reaction.’ Hastily she pulled a tissue out of her bra and wiped her eyes. ‘To be honest I think it’s all c-come as a bit of a sh-shock.’
‘OK, don’t cr
y.’ There was a note of desperation in Doug’s voice; this was rather more than he’d been expecting and way more than he could handle. Lola realized he’d never seen her crying before. It was something she hardly ever did in public, darkened cinemas excepted, largely because some girls—the Snow White brigade—might be able to cry prettily but she always turned into a pink blotchy mess. In fact, the only way to hide her face from Doug now was to bury it in his chest.
If only he wouldn’t keep trying to back away…
Finally she managed to corner him against the front door and conceal her blotchiness in his shirt. Oh yes, this was where she belonged, back in Doug’s arms at last. She’d missed him so much. If she hadn’t needed to take the money, would they still have been together now? It was heartbreakingly possible.
Gingerly he patted her heaving shoulders. ‘Hey, sshh, everything’ll be all right.’
The fact that he was now being nice to her made the tears fall faster. Nuzzling against the warmth of his chest, making the most of every second, Lola said in a muffled, hiccupy voice, ‘All these years my mum lied to me about my f-father.’
‘And he’s only just come out of prison?’
‘No, that was years ago. Cigarette smuggling, nothing too terrible. He went to prison just before I was born. Pretty ironic really. My mother decided he wasn’t good enough to be my dad, so she refused to let him see me. And then seventeen years later, your mother decided I wasn’t good enough to be your girlfriend.’
‘That is a coincidence.’ Doug paused. ‘Did she offer him twelve thousand pounds to stay away too?’
OK, still bitter.
‘I haven’t even told Mum yet. Heaven knows what she’s going to say when she finds out he’s been in touch. It’s just so much to take in.’ Lola raised her face and wondered if he ever watched romantic movies, the kind she loved, because this would be the perfect moment for him to sweep her into his arms for a passionate Hollywood kiss.
‘You’ve got mascara on your nose.’ Doug evidently hadn’t read the romantic-hero rules.
So close your eyes.
But that didn’t happen. Even less romantically, his phone burst into life in his jacket pocket, less than three inches from her ear.
The spell was broken. Doug disengaged himself and answered the phone. He listened for a few seconds then said, ‘No, sorry, I was held up. I’m on my way now.’ He ended the call and opened the front door. ‘I have to go.’
‘Mustn’t be late. Or you’ll get home and find your dinner in the dog.’ She was longing—longing—to know who he was rushing off to meet, but all Doug did was give an infuriating little smile. Almost as if he knew she was fishing for clues.
‘Why were you dressed as a rabbit when you met your father?’
Ha, he wasn’t the only one who could smile infuriatingly. ‘It’s a long story.’ Lola was apologetic. ‘And you have to rush off.’
He had the grace to nod in amusement. ‘Touché. So what’s he like?’
‘Nice, I think. Normal, as far as I can tell. We have the same eyebrows.’ If he made some smart remark about the two of them having the same morals she might have to stamp on his foot.
‘The same eyebrows? You mean you take it in turns to wear them when you go out?’ Doug shook his head. ‘You want to splash out, get yourselves a pair each.’
Chapter 21
‘Look, I’m sorry about yesterday,’ said Gabe.
Sally, just home from yet another pre-Christmas shopping trip, dumped her bags and took off her coat. ‘Really? Yesterday you were like a grizzly bear with a sore head.’ Actually that didn’t begin to describe him; yesterday he’d been like a bear with a sore everything.
Gabe shrugged and smiled. ‘Yesterday wasn’t the best day of my life. Now I’ve slept for thirteen hours I’m feeling a lot better.’
Well, that was a relief.
‘So I hope we can get along,’ he continued, clearly keen to make amends.
‘Me too. Can I ask you something?’
‘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.’