Jill Mansell Boxed Set

by Jill Mansell

  ‘I’m fine, thanks. And you haven’t changed at all. It’s incredible.’

  Lola said, ‘Mum—’

  ‘Oh, sorry, love, this is Nick.’ Blythe jumped in before Lola could ask any awkward questions. ‘We knew each other years ago… well, nice to see you again, we mustn’t keep you… heavens, is that the time already? We’re going to have to rush if we’re—’

  ‘Mum, it’s OK.’ Desperate to explain, Lola blurted out, ‘I know who Nick is. And this isn’t a coincidence; he knew we’d be here today because I told him. We met up before Christmas. He’s my father. And we really like each other.’ Hopefully, because her mother was staring at her as if she’d just sprouted an extra pair of ears, she said, ‘So that’s good, isn’t it?’

  Blythe’s hand trembled as she took a gulp of wine. Then another gulp. ‘You planned this.’ Her voice rose in disbelief. ‘You met up before Christmas?’

  ‘I was going to tell you,’ Lola said hurriedly, ‘but I didn’t know how you’d react. And then Malcolm turned up on Christmas morning…’

  ‘OK if I sit down?’ Nick indicated a spare chair.

  ‘My God, this is too much to take in.’ Clutching her head, Blythe said, ‘Just turning up like this, out of the blue… how did it happen? Who found who?’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t me,’ said Lola. ‘It couldn’t have been me, could it? Seeing as you told me my father was an American who never even told you his real name.’

  Her mother rubbed her forehead with both hands and said nothing.

  ‘Because that wouldn’t have exactly given me a lot to go on.’ Lola’s tone was dry.

  ‘Which is why I said it. And it worked,’ Blythe retaliated. ‘It did the trick perfectly well.’ Pointedly she added, ‘For twenty-seven years.’

  ‘I saw Lola being interviewed on the local news.’ Nick pulled out the chair and sat down. ‘Just for a few seconds, but it was enough. I had to find out if she was my daughter. And she is.’ His eyes softening, he slid one hand across the table towards Blythe then withdrew it as she snatched hers out of reach. ‘You’ve done a fantastic job, Blythe. She’s an absolute credit to you.’

  Lola felt ridiculously proud. Her father thought she was pretty good, possibly even fantastic.

  ‘And to Alex. Her stepfather,’ Blythe said stiffly. ‘He’s the one who helped to bring her up.’

  Nick nodded. ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’ve told him all about Alex,’ said Lola.

  ‘And did he tell you everything too?’ Breathing rapidly, Blythe turned her attention to Nick. ‘Hmm? Did you? Everything?’

  People at other tables were starting to pay attention. Maybe organizing this surprise reunion in a restaurant hadn’t been such a great idea. Lola, who had thought having other people around might help to keep things under control, said surreptitiously, ‘sshh.’

  Which was kind of pointless seeing as Nick didn’t bother to lower his own voice when he said, ‘Yes, Blythe, she knows I went to prison.’

  Now it was the turn of the avidly eavesdropping woman at the next table to go sshh at her husband who was droning boringly on about golf.

  ‘That was twenty-seven years ago,’ Nick continued. ‘I made a mistake and I paid for it a hundred times over. I lost you and I lost my daughter. And before you ask, no, I haven’t been in trouble with the police since then. I am a normal decent law-abiding citizen.’

  ‘Congratulations.’ Frostily Blythe said, ‘Some of us have always been that.’

  ‘Hey. Blythe.’ His smile crooked, Nick seized the bottle of Merlot and poured some into Lola’s empty water glass. ‘It really is fantastic to see you again. We don’t have to fight, do we? Can’t we just be friends?’

  ‘What? I don’t know. This has only just happened.’ Blythe noisily exhaled, shook her head. ‘I can’t even think straight.’

  ‘I never stopped thinking about you. About both of you.’

  For a second her eyes flashed. ‘And I never stopped thinking about the way you lied to me.’

  ‘Mum, it’s all in the past.’

  ‘But it happened,’ Blythe insisted. ‘I was eight months pregnant when I got the phone call telling me my boyfriend was in prison. No warning, no hints, just… bam. It was like… God, it was like the whole world had exploded. I thought my life was over, I didn’t know what to do, I was desperate. And now here you are, turning up again out of the blue, saying, hey, never mind all that, it’s in the past, let’s just put it behind us and be friends!’ She paused, sitting back in her seat and raking her fingers through her hair. ‘Because I don’t know if I want us to be friends. I’m fine as I am, thanks.’

  ‘I’m Lola’s father,’ said Nick.

  ‘Not as far as I’m concerned. Alex was the one who was there for her.’ Heatedly Blythe said, ‘And guess what? He didn’t go to prison once!’

  Lola closed her eyes; not quite the Hallmark reunion she’d been hoping for. ‘Mum, you lied to me about Nick, remember? You didn’t tell me the truth because you wanted to protect me, you didn’t want me to be hurt.’

  Her mother said defensively, ‘So? Was that wrong?’

  ‘No! You did it because you loved me!’ Spreading her arms wide, narrowly missing the groin of a startled passing waiter, Lola said, ‘But that’s exactly why Nick lied to you! He didn’t tell you about being arrested and charged because he loved you and didn’t want you to be upset!’

  ‘And didn’t that work well.’ Bright spots of color burned in Blythe’s cheeks as she scraped back her chair. ‘No warning, no nothing, just a phone call from some stranger letting me know you were in jail. Why on earth would I be upset about that?’

  ‘What are you doing?’ said Lola as Blythe made a grab for her bag.

  ‘I’m going to the bathroom, then home.’

  ‘Mum, don’t!’

  ‘It’s OK.’ Nick rose to his feet. ‘I’ll leave. I’m sorry.’ He rested his hands on Lola’s shoulders as Blythe, blindly ricocheting off chairs, hurried to the loo. ‘We got that a bit wrong, didn’t we? Give her a while to calm down. Maybe I’ll see you later.’

  Lola nodded, unable to speak.

  Some time later her mother returned to the table.

  ‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Lola said at once. ‘I made another mistake.’

  ‘Sorry, love. Talk about a shock.’ Freckles glowing, Blythe energetically fanned her face. ‘Maybe next time you magic a father out of thin air I could have a few minutes’ warning. I’ve never been much of a one for surprises.’

  Was it any wonder? Lola pushed away her plate and divided the last of the wine between their glasses. Of course her mother had been shocked but had she also, deep down, been just a teeny bit impressed by how Nick had turned out? Tentatively she said, ‘Our eyebrows do the same thing.’

  Blythe hesitated, then managed a brief smile. ‘I know.’

  ‘He’s very good-looking.’

  ‘Oh yes, he always had that going for him. And he knew it. Nick was a charmer, all right.’

  Valiantly, Lola carried on. ‘Nice clothes too. He dresses well.’

  Her mother’s smile changed, grew faintly mocking. ‘And that makes all the difference.’

  Which was unfair, because it didn’t make all the difference. It was just that when you compared Malcolm’s external appearance, his woolly, unkempt, hairy-toed appearance, with Nick’s smooth metropolitan one, well, it made quite a lot.

  And was that really so wrong? When it was, after all, the reason why there were more posters of Johnny Depp on bedroom walls across the country than there were of Johnny Vegas?

  ‘I like him,’ said Lola.

  ‘Of course you do.’ Blythe shrugged. ‘Look, I’m sorry if you think I’ve deprived you of your father all these years, but—’

  ‘Mum, that’s OK, you
thought you were doing the right thing. But we’ve found each other now. He’s back in our lives. And we can take it slowly, all get to know each other properly. You liked him once, you can like him again.’ Lola raised her glass with a surge of hope and a flourish. ‘Same as me and Dougie.’

  ‘I think you’re forgetting something.’ Signaling a waiter for the bill, Blythe said, ‘You still like Dougie. But from what you’ve told me, he doesn’t seem to be too crazy about you.’

  Mothers could be cruel. ‘He’ll change his mind,’ said Lola. ‘I haven’t given up on him yet.’

  Chapter 27

  Across the hallway Lola’s doorbell was ringing. Sally, engrossed in the ice skating on TV—and the bowl of Ben and Jerry’s in her lap—wiggled her toes and imagined herself in a sparkly, hot-pink figure-hugging outfit twirling across the ice.

  Ddddrrrrrrinnnggggg. Whoever was at the front door wasn’t giving up. As the skating routine drew to an end, Sally put down her ice cream and clambered off the sofa.

  She hauled up the sash window and leaned out. ‘Hello? Lola’s not at home.’ Then she almost lost her balance and toppled out, because the man gazing up at her was just…

  Wow.

  Let’s just say he was a definite cut above your average carol singer.

  ‘Any idea when she’ll be back? I’ve tried her mobile but it’s switched off.’ His dark hair gleamed in the light from the street lamp. Even at this distance his eyes were hypnotic. Effortlessly hypnotized, Sally said, ‘She could be back any time now. Do you want to come in and wait?’

  His teeth gleamed white. ‘Are you sure?’

  With a smile like that? Was he kidding? Praying Lola wouldn’t be back too soon, Sally called out, ‘Hang on, I’ll buzz you up.’

  ‘Thanks.’ His smile broadened when she opened the door to her flat. ‘I don’t want to be a nuisance. But it’s pretty icy out there.’

  No worries, come here, I’ll soon warm you up!

  Thankfully she managed to keep these words inside her head. Oh, but he was to die for, really he was, with those expressive eyebrows and chiseled cheekbones, and that dark swept-back hair curling over the collar of his coat. This was definitely lust at first sight. And wasn’t there something familiar about those eyebrows?

  ‘Come on in, I’ll make us a cup of tea… oops.’ In her excitement she almost kicked over the bowl on the carpet. ‘Don’t step in the ice cream! I’m Sally, by the way.’

  ‘I know. Lola’s told me all about you.’

  ‘Has she?’ Ridiculously flattered, Sally turned to look at him as she filled the kettle at the sink. Whooosh, ice-cold water promptly ricocheted off the spout, drenching her from neck to navel. When you were in the grip of lust it was hard to concentrate.

  ‘Why don’t I make the tea?’ Amused, he said, ‘You’d better go and change out of those wet things.’

  Which was how real life differed from the movies because if this hadn’t been real he might have offered to help her.

  By the time she reemerged in dry clothes she’d figured it out. ‘I’ve heard all about you too,’ Sally announced as he carried the tea through to the living room. ‘You’re Lola’s dad.’

  ‘Nick James.’ His humorous dark grey eyes crinkled at the corners. Gorgeous eyes, gorgeous corners. And the way he dressed… well, that was right up her street too. A dark green shirt, black trousers and black shoes, you couldn’t get plainer than that, but they were of excellent quality and so well-cut, and he wore them like a Frenchman. The glamorous citified kind you saw sitting at pavement cafés on the Champs Elysées, not the gnarled leathery farmer types with strings of onions slung around their necks.

  Unlike grungly Gabe with his bleached T-shirts and disintegrating jeans, this was a man with élan, with savoir faire… a man who knew how to dress. He even—mais naturellement!—smelled fantastic. And he was Lola’s father. Would this make things tricky or awkward?

  Sally considered the facts then decided there was no reason why it should. If Lola was allowed to have a crush on her brother and yearn for him shamelessly, it seemed only fair that she should be allowed a shot at Lola’s dad. Crikey, if Lola married Doug and she married Nick, she’d be Lola’s stepmother and her sister-in-law; wouldn’t that be a turn-up for the books? It was the kind of thing that got you invited onto TV shows and… um, OK, maybe getting a teeny bit carried away here, just the weeniest bit ahead of herself…

  ‘The ice cream had pretty much melted,’ said Nick. ‘So I put the bowl in the sink.’

  ‘Right. Um, thanks.’ Oh God, please don’t say he was going to turn out to be another neurotic-obsessive-compulsive-tidier-upper. But he hadn’t cleared away anything else, so that was good. He had lovely hands too, capable-looking fingers and clean, well-shaped nails. Ooh, and if we all had children they’d be simultaneously each other’s cousins and uncles and aunts…

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Nick was regarding her with interest, his dark head tilted to one side.

  Again, probably best not to tell him. ‘Just wondering if I’m allowed to ask how it went today, meeting up with Lola and her mum.’

  ‘Not brilliantly. It wasn’t a fairytale reunion.’ He paused, stirring his tea. ‘Hardly surprising, I suppose. Bit of a shock for Blythe. That’s why I came over to see Lola, to find out how things are now. Relationships are… complicated.’

  ‘Ha, tell me about it.’

  Nick grinned. ‘Lola did happen to mention you’d had your share of bad luck with men.’

  Oh Lola did, did she? Cheers, Lola. Then again, maybe it had been fate all along, nature’s way of forcing her to wait until Mr Right—no, Mr Absolutely Perfect—turned up.

  And since he already knew, there was no point trying to deny the past.

  ‘That’s a very polite way of putting it,’ Sally said ruefully, ‘but I think you mean my share of bastards.’ On the TV a groan of disappointment went up from the audience and she pointed to the pair of skaters sprawled on the ice. ‘It’s like that, isn’t it? One minute it’s all going so well, you’re twirling and flying through the air and actually starting to think you’re in with a chance of gold. And the next minute, splat, you’re flat on your face. That’s why I love watching my old video of Torvill and Dean doing Bolero. Because I know it doesn’t go wrong, nobody falls over and they carry on being perfect right to the end.’ She paused then said with a lopsided smile, ‘Wouldn’t it be great if our lives could be like that?’

  Oops, had that been a bit too heartfelt? Did it make her sound needy and desperate? Was he going to make fun of her now?

  But that didn’t happen. Instead, nodding in agreement, he said, ‘It’s what everyone wants, if they’re honest. We just can’t help buggering things up. But the right man’s out there somewhere, I know he is.’

  Sally looked innocent. ‘For you?’

  He smiled easily. ‘For you. It’s just a question of tracking him down.’

  They carried on chatting for another hour. He was so wonderfully easy to talk to. She learned about his career in advertising and told him about her own job—you couldn’t really call it a career—as a receptionist in a busy doctors’ surgery in Wimbledon.

  Nick was surprised. ‘And this is NHS? I wouldn’t have had you down as a doctors’ receptionist.’

  ‘Because I’m not tidy?’ Hurt, Sally said, ‘I’m very organized at work.’

  ‘I actually meant you look too glamorous.’

  She flushed at the compliment, smoothed back her hair. ‘I love my job. OK, it’s not high-powered and it isn’t glamorous, but the doctors I work with are great. Really friendly. It’s never boring. And I’m good at what I do,’ she added with pride. ‘Dr Willis says I’m the most efficient receptionist they’ve ever had.’

  ‘So this surgery then, is it not a good place to meet men? What are these doctors like?’

/>   ‘Old and married.’ Hastily, because she knew Nick was forty-eight, Sally said, ‘I mean, ancient. Sixties. Much older than you.’

  His mouth curved at the corners. ‘Glad to hear it. How about the patients, then? Must be a few promising ones there.’

  ‘Well, yes, until you look through their medical notes.’ Sally pulled a face. ‘And read all about their stomach upsets, their erectile dysfunction, the excessive sweating and eczema in their skin folds, not to mention their problems with excessive wind and snoring… I don’t know, somehow all the magic goes out of them after that.’

  He looked appalled. ‘Jesus, who d’you have coming to your surgery? A bunch of trolls?’

  ‘They don’t have all those things. And not all at once. It’s just when you type a name into the computer, the whole medical history comes up on the first page. Say it’s an ultra-respectable bank manager,’ Sally explained. ‘He might look really nice, he might sound really nice. But one glance at the screen and I know he caught a sexually transmitted disease when he was nineteen, had a stubborn fungal infection between his toes when he was twenty-eight, and for the last three years has been seeing a specialist at a center for gender reassignment.’

  ‘I take your point. What’s more,’ said Nick, ‘I’ll never try and chat up my doctor’s receptionist again.’

  Chapter 28

  ‘You missed Nick. He left twenty minutes ago.’ Sally beckoned Lola into the flat, eager to tell her everything. ‘Isn’t he great? He’s been waiting here for you to get back. In the end he had to leave, but we’ve had a lovely couple of hours getting to know each other. He’s just so—’

  ‘Oh no, he waited a couple of hours? Why didn’t he ring me?’ Distracted, Lola scrabbled for her phone. ‘Damn, when did I switch that off?’

  ‘It wasn’t a problem. We’ve been chatting non-stop. In fact—’