by Jill Mansell
‘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 were 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 s
oon, 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-whining-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.
‘Look, I’m sorry,’ Gabe yelled above the noise of the wind, advancing towards her. ‘I just wanted to…’
The words faded in his throat and he stopped dead, gazing in disbelief as the furiously waving branches clawed at her hair and, having yanked it free, waved it like an ecstatic contestant on Supermarket Sweep. Savannah Hudson let out a whimper of anguish and dropped the shopping as she attempted to shield her exposed head—click—from Gabe. Letting go of the dog’s lead, she used her other hand to grasp helplessly—click click—at the blond wig caught up on the spiky branches.
Jesus Christ, she was as bald as an egg. This was a major scoop, bigger even than his petrol station exposé of Tom Dutton and Jessica Lee. Appalled, Gabe hastily sidestepped as the dog raced up to him barking furiously.
‘Sshh, it’s OK, don’t do that.’ Reaching down, he grabbed the dog’s lead before a car could come along and mow it down. Together they made their way over to the verge where Savannah Hudson was still battling to free the wig. It was a hawthorn hedge and the spikes were needle-sharp. Tears swam in her eyes and she ducked her face away at Gabe’s approach, flinching as a thorn scratched her wrist.
‘Here, let me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll do it,’ said Gabe. ‘You just hold the lead.’
‘Please,’ her voice broke, ‘just leave me alone. Bunty, shh.’
Bunty, what a name for the world’s yappiest terrier. The yaps were actually making his ears hurt. Ignoring the scratches his hands were amassing, Gabe grimly disentangled strands of hair from the vicious branches and finally managed to liberate the blond wig, although it did look as if it had just been dragged through a… no, no, definitely not the moment to make a joke.
‘Thank you.’ Tears slid down Savannah Hudson’s white face; angrily she dashed them away.
‘Sorry,’ Gabe said again as she crammed the wig onto her head, covering her naked scalp and pulling up the hood of her jacket for good measure. He retrieved the dropped carrier of shopping from a clump of dead stinging nettles in the ditch and handed that back too.
‘Sorry? Really? I doubt that.’ Savannah’s lip curled with derision. ‘I should imagine you’re jumping for joy. You’ve got just what you wanted, haven’t you?’ She indicated the camera around his neck and said sarcastically, ‘I hope you’re proud of yourself.’
Gabe reached for the camera; earlier, Pavlovian instinct had taken over and he’d barely been aware of taking the photos. But—he checked—yes, there they were, clear as day on the screen, ready to reveal Savannah Hudson’s secret to the world.
She’d now turned and was already hurrying on up the lane with her shopping and her ridiculous yippy-yappy dog.
‘Wait,’ Gabe called out. He caught up within thirty seconds and put a hand on her arm to slow her down.
‘Please, just leave me alone.’ Snatching her arm away Savannah said evenly, ‘And don’t touch me either or I’ll have you for assault.’
‘OK, OK, just stop for a moment and watch me.’ Closing his mind to what he was about to do, Gabe waited until he had her attention. His hands trembled as he showed her the photos on the camera screen. ‘OK, see the delete button? You press it.’
If he’d expected Savannah Hudson’s rosebud mouth to fall open, for her to turn to him in wonder and whisper, ‘Seriously? Do you mean it? Are you really sure?’ he’d have been disappointed. In a nanosecond her index finger had shot out, pressing the button and deleting the images forever.
Dink, dink, gone. Just like that. And if Gabe had been expecting her to fling herself at him in gratitude crying, ‘Oh God, my hero, thank you, thank you,’ well, he’d have been sorely disappointed there too. Instead she turned away, muttering, ‘And don’t tell anyone either.’
He watched Savannah Hudson trudge up the hill with Bunty still yapping at her side. Then they rounded the bend and disa
ppeared from view. A smattering of icy rain hit Gabe in the face and he shivered at the realization of what he’d just done.
Damn right he wouldn’t be telling anyone. If he did, they’d only call him a prat.
Chapter 35
In retrospect, Lola was able to acknowledge that she’d made a big mistake in confiding to the others at work—OK, boasting to the others at work—about having been asked out—OK, practically asked out—by EJ Mack. Now, at least half a dozen times a day someone would clutch their chest and exclaim, ‘Oh my God, here he is! Lola, EJ’s here to beg you to go out with him… quick, look, he’s crawling on his knees through the shop… he’s saying, “Pleeeease, Lola, pleeeeease will you go out with me?”… Oh look, and now he’s crying, there are tears dripping all over his lovely blue anorak.’
Which might have been mildly amusing the first couple of times but was altogether less hilarious now.
Anyway, concentrate on the books that needed to be ordered. In the back office, huffing her hair out of her eyes, Lola returned her attention to the computer screen and double-checked a list of ISBNs.
Across the desk, after hastily swallowing the last mouthful of her lunchtime prawn sandwich, Cheryl picked up the ringing phone.
Seconds later, windmilling her free arm in front of Lola, she squealed, ‘It’s for you! You’ll never guess… it’s him!’
‘Who?’ Lola couldn’t help herself; her ever-hopeful heart leapt at the idea that it might be Doug.
‘EJ Mack!’
God, weren’t they sick to death of playing that game yet? Cross with herself for even thinking it could have been Dougie, Lola said, ‘Well, tell him sorry, but I don’t want to speak to someone who has the nerve to go out in public wearing a turquoise anorak. Tell him to bugger off and pester Madonna instead.’
Hastily covering the receiver, Cheryl hissed, ‘You berk, I’m serious. It really is him.’