Jill Mansell - Chapter 1

The man drove into the service station, parked up next to the car wash and disappeared inside the shop. Gabe, in the back of the cab, scrolled through the half-dozen or so photos he’d taken and deleted one that was blurred because they’d been driving over a bump at the time. He glanced up as a slender brunette emerged from another parked car and made her way around the corner of the building. For a split second Gabe thought she seemed familiar, before remembering he was in Sydney, Australia. It wasn’t like bumping into someone you knew in the supermarket back home.

Moments later his head jerked up again as another figure, male this time, emerged from a second car and headed in the same direction as the brunette.

Gabe frowned. Wasn’t that ... ? No, it couldn’t be.

But as the man moved out of sight, curiosity got the better of Gabe. Opening the rear door of the cab, he climbed out. Ninety degrees of heat hit him in the face. Mystified, Gabe reached the side of the whitewashed building and saw .. . blimey ... that he hadn’t been mistaken after all. Except no wonder he hadn’t twigged at first; it wasn’t every day you saw two members of Hollywood’s A-list sneaking off down a narrow alley behind a service station in order to kiss each other senseless.

Unless it was for a movie and they were being paid millions of dollars to do it.

Which certainly wasn’t the case here. This time they were doing it for free.

Click. Gabe hadn’t even planned on taking their photo; somehow, the camera in his hand came up and there they were in the frame, so completely wrapped up in each other that they neither saw him nor heard the shutter close. Gabe took another photo, this time getting a clear shot of the girl’s face. Then, realising what he was doing – God, what was he, some kind of snooper? – he turned and hurried back to the cab.

‘All right there?’The taxi driver emerged from the shop with a bottle of iced water and a bag of toffees.

‘Fine.’

‘Off we go, then.’

As they waited to pull out onto the main road, the male half of the couple emerged from the alley. Tom Dutton, Oscar-winning actor, wearing faded denims and a red checked shirt. His long blond hair flopped over his forehead as he loped back to his car. Simply because it would thrill Lola, who had dragged him along to the cinema last summer and noisily sobbed her way through the weepy that had been Tom Dutton’s most recent film, Gabe raised his camera and took one last photo.

Personally he’d thought the film was crap.•

Chapter 16

Lola wasn’t averse to a bit of untidiness but stepping into Gabe’s flat was something of an eye-opener. The initial impression was of utter chaos, Selfridges Christmas department mixed with a charity shop the morning after an all-night party.

‘Hi there, I was wondering if you had any black shoe polish—whoops.’ Lola just managed to avoid stepping on a triangle of pepperoni pizza lying on an open copy of Heat. Something told her she wasn’t going to be in luck. Most of Sally’s clothes appeared to be strewn across the floor, along with a couple of damp bath towels. Just as well Gabe wasn’t here to see this.

‘I do, I do!’ Sally gaily dropped her apple core onto Gabe’s formerly pristine glass-topped coffee table and pressed her fingers, psychic-style, to her temples. ‘Hmm, shoe polishes, shoe polishes.

They’re here somewhere ... I remember taking them out of a case and putting them ... ooh, I know! On the window sill in the kitchen!’

Where else? Following Sally into the kitchen, Lola saw a whole range of shoe polishes flung into a pink and gold flowerpot along with a Nicky Clarke hairspray, a zebra print alarm clock, a bag of satsumas and a skipping rope.

‘Brilliant. I’ll only be a couple of seconds! Holding her favourite black stilettos, Lola squeezed liquid polish onto the toes. Instant magic. The scuffs disappeared and she recapped the tube.

‘Shall I put this out of the way in the cupboard under the sink?’

‘No need. I like things where I can see them.’ Surveying her in her dressing gown, Sally said,

‘Off out somewhere nice?’

‘Wine bar in Soho. Works Christmas party.’ Lola pulled a face. ‘Fancy dress.’

‘Ooh, I love fancy dress! What are you going as?’

‘A Playboy Bunny. Don’t laugh,’ said Lola. ‘Everyone had to put an idea into the hat and I drew the short straw. Tim from work has gone over to the fancy dress hire place to pick everything up.

He’ll be here any minute with my costume?

‘At least it’s sexy. I always wanted to be a Playboy Bunny when I grew up. But Mum said over her dead body. Oh well,’ Sally said cheerfully, ‘you’ll have to come and give me a twirl before you leave.’

’Blimey.’ Coming face to face with Tim on her doorstep, lugging an enormous zip-up carrying case, Lola said, ‘That can’t all be for me.’

Her outfit was a skimpy affair, surely. Black satin swimsuit thing, white fluffy tail and a pair of ears. How much space could that take up?

‘Been a bit of a mix-up.’ Tim looked embarrassed. ‘What kind of a mix-up?’

His cheeks flamed. ‘When I ordered a Bunny outfit they thought I meant ... well, a bunny bunny!

‘You mean ... ? Oh God, let me see.’ Lola unzipped the carrying case and was confronted by a full-size rabbit suit made of white nylon fur. ‘I have to wear this?’

‘Sorry,’ Tim said miserably.

She pulled out the suit and gave herself a static shock. On the bright side, she wouldn’t need to spend the evening holding her stomach in.

On the less bright side, what a waste of polishing her shoes. She was destined to spend the night with her feet encased in giant furry white rabbit’s paws.

‘I’m going to get hot in there.’ The nylon fur crackled and gave Lola another zip of static as she stroked it.

‘You can swap costumes with me if you want to,’ said Tim. The ‘if you want to’ part didn’t fill her with optimism. ‘Why, what’s yours?’

‘Well, I was going to be a gladiator. Kind of like Russell Crowe. But the breastplate snapped and they couldn’t let me have it!

‘So you’re not a gladiator. Instead you’re ... ?’

Tim mumbled, ‘Barney the Dinosaur?

Lola sighed. ‘Thanks, but I’ll stay with the rabbit. Purple was never my colour!

‘You’re all pink!’ Cheryl, looking glamorous and suitably exotic in her hula skirt, danced up to Lola.

All pink. Fancy that.

‘Imagine how hot it feels, being trapped inside an all-in-one bunny suit.’ Lola reached for a bottle of ice-cold water. ‘Then double it. Actually,’ she paused and glugged down several mouthfuls of the water, ‘quadruple it.’

The DJ started to play ‘Last Christmas’ by Wham!, causing a stampede (why? why?) onto the dance floor.

‘Fancy a dance?’ said Cheryl, shimmying her hips. ‘Not really, no.’

‘Couldn’t you take the bunny suit off now?’ Cheryl tilted her head sympathetically to one side.

‘I could, if I’d thought to bring a change of clothes with me.’ Huffing her damp fringe out of her eyes, Lola couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to her. But beneath the nylon fur she was scantily clad and jolly though the crowd at Bernini’s were, she didn’t feel they were ready to witness her in her pink and green polka-dotty knickers and matching balcony bra.

Mind you, it was a salutary experience dressing up like a rabbit. Until tonight she hadn’t realised how nice it was to be paid attention by members of the opposite sex. Being eyed up was something she’d pretty much taken for granted.

‘You know, I feel as if I’m wearing an invisibility cloak,’ said Lola. ‘Nobody’s looking at me.’

‘Oh, that’s not true.’ Cheryl did her best to sound convincing.