by Jill Mansell
‘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 ha
ve 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 Gabe 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.’
‘It might be fun. All those celebs,’ Lola said encouragingly. ‘All that fresh air.’
Gabe hesitated. He really didn’t want to go back to being a chartered surveyor. ‘But you know what I’m like. I wouldn’t recognize half the people I was supposed to be photographing.’
‘God, listen to you.’ Sally emerged from her room, her arms loaded with gift-wrapped presents. ‘You old fogey! You don’t say photographing, you say papping.’ Never one to pass up the opportunity to have a dig, she said gleefully, ‘You’ll be playing records next, on your wind-up gramophone, whilst puffing away on a Woodbine.’
Gabe rolled his eyes. ‘Are you off? Don’t let us keep you.’
‘Oh, are you leaving now?’ Lola jumped up; it was seven in the evening and each of them was heading home to spend Christmas day with their families. ‘Are you getting a cab to Barnes? Give everyone my love.’ Well, Dougie. She didn’t want Adele appropriating any of it; more to the point, couldn’t imagine Adele wanting any of her love.
‘No, I’m catching the tube to Doug’s then we’re going in his car. If you like,’ Sally told Gabe, ‘you can borrow my magazines and start learning who everyone is.’
‘Maybe next week. I’m not spending Christmas doing homework.’
Doug lived in Kensington. ‘You can’t carry all those presents on the tube by yourself,’ said Lola. ‘Why don’t I give you a hand? Kensington’s practically on the way to Streatham.’
Sally frowned. ‘But you’ve got loads of stuff to carry too.’
‘Less than you have. Wouldn’t it be easier for me to help you?’
‘OK, better idea,’ said Sally, ‘how about if I give Doug a call and ask him to come and pick me up. I’ll just say I’ve got too many bags.’ She paused, looked at the expression on Lola’s face. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem fair on him…’
‘But he won’t mind!’
Lola looked doubtful. ‘He might say he doesn’t.’
‘Well, I don’t get this.’ Sally shook her head, baffled. ‘I thought you’d have liked the idea of Doug coming over. Don’t say you’ve gone off him.’
Gabe grinned at her. ‘Are you serious? Try turning it around. The reason Lola doesn’t want your brother driving over is because… hmm, let me think, she’d far rather see where he lives and have a good look around his flat. Because she’s nosy.’
‘Is that why?’ Sally turned to Lola, surprised. Lola shrugged evasively; Gabe knew her too well.
‘Might be.’
‘For heaven’s sake! Why didn’t you just say so, then? What am I, a mind-reader?’ Sally rolled her eyes. ‘Get your coat on and let’s go.’
Lola didn’t need to be asked twice. Since sobbing all over Dougie the other evening he’d been occupying her thoughts even more than before. He’d been so nice to her and being back in his arms—albeit briefly—had felt so right. She’d been dreaming about those arms. And for the first time she’d seriously begun to wonder if it might be possible to win Dougie back.
***
Doug lived in the ground floor flat of a huge Victorian pillar-fronted house in Onslow Gardens. If Lola thought she’d done pretty well for herself property-wise, his flat was several rungs further up the ladder. Then again, he was a management consultant with a super-successful company he’d built up from scratch; it had to pay well.
‘Phew, here we are,’ panted Sally, climbing the white marble steps and ringing the bell with her shoulder.
‘I’m feeling so Christmassy! Wouldn’t it be great if it could start to snow now?’ Lola hugged the bags of presents and felt her stomach tighten with excitement. For so many years she’d felt this way about the thought of seeing Father Christmas; now she was feeling it at the prospect of seeing Dougie again.
What’s more, she’d watched Love, Actually
enough times to know that magical things could happen on Christmas Eve. Her cheeks were glowing and her hair was fetchingly tousled. She was wearing her favorite white fluffy scarf. And her mouth was slicked with a subtle but sparkly Guerlain lipstick that looked like pink frost and tasted delicious. If Doug wanted to throw caution to the wind and kiss her, she could guarantee he wouldn’t be disappointed.
‘Come on, come on, hurry up,’ Sally urged through chattering teeth.
Well, he wouldn’t be disappointed if only he’d come and open the door. Checking for CCTV cameras, Lola suppressed the less than welcome thought that Doug could have seen her on his doorstep and was now pretending to be out. He wouldn’t do that, would he? Had he never watched Love, Actually? Didn’t he know how romantic Christmas Eve could be, if only he’d relax into it, let bygones be bygones, and just let fate take its natural course?
Then the front door opened and there he was, barefoot and wearing a blue and white striped shirt over frayed jeans. Unable to help herself, Lola took a quick intake of breath and began to cough as the ice-cold air hit the back of her throat. One day, one day, she’d learn to be elegant and in control.
‘Bloody hell, about time too,’ Sally complained, bustling past him. ‘It’s freezing out there.’
‘OK, two things. It’s not even eight o’clock yet. I said to come over at nine.’
‘You said eight.’
‘Nine. Definitely nine.’
‘Oh well, never mind. I’m early!’
‘And secondly,’ Doug’s dark eyes narrowed, ‘what’s Lola doing here? Because I’m fairly sure our mother hasn’t invited her to spend Christmas Day with us.’
Lola’s heart sank. So he hadn’t ever watched Love, Actually.
‘Don’t be sarcastic. Lola’s here because she’s doing me a favor,’ said Sally. ‘I had too much stuff to carry so she offered to help me out.’
‘See? I’m a nice person really.’ Lola beamed hopefully. ‘And don’t panic, I’m on my way to my mum’s. I just saw that Sal was struggling with all her parcels so I said I’d lend her a hand getting them here.’