Jill Mansell - Chapter 1

‘No, no. God, that’s not what happened at all.’ Horrified, Nick James said, ‘Is that what you think, that I was the one who walked away? Because I didn’t, I swear. I loved your mother and I wanted the three of us to be a family, more than anything. She was the one who wouldn’t have it.’

‘Hang on.’ Lola stopped him, because this was just too surreal; there had to have been some kind of misunderstanding here. ‘This is Blythe we’re talking about?’

She had to double-check. Imagine if he sat back in dismay and said, ‘No, not Blythe! I’m talking about Linda.’

And the eyebrows had just been an eerie coincidence.

But he didn’t, he just nodded and said simply, ‘Blythe Malone, that’s right.’

‘Anything to eat, love?’ A waitress bustled over to their table, mopping up the tea Lola had spilled on the Formica.

‘No thanks.’ There was so much to take in, not least the discovery that her own mother had lied to her.

And in a pretty major way.

‘Sure? We’ve got a lovely lamb hotpot.’ The waitress helpfully pointed to the appropriate photograph on the laminated menu. ‘Or faggots and chips, everyone likes our faggots.’

Normally Lola would have thought of something funny to say to this, but her brain was all over the place. ‘I’m fine. Really.’

‘She’d rather have a plate of carrots.’ One of the men at the next table chuckled and nudged his friend, who broke into a buck-toothed Bugs Bunny impression.

‘Sorry.’ Nick James looked at Lola. ‘I should have found somewhere better than this.’

Offended, the waitress sniffed and said, ‘Charmed, I’m sure.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Lola shook her head. ‘I wish I wasn’t wearing a bunny suit, but that can’t be helped. And the tea’s great.’ She smiled up at the waitress. ‘Actually, I’ll have another one.’

‘My flat’s not far from here. We could go there if you wantto,’ Nick James offered. ‘But I thought that might seem a bit strange.’

‘A bit.’ Much as she’d have preferred to be wearing normal clothes, Lola had felt the same way about inviting him back to Radley Road.

He nodded in agreement. ‘Neutral ground’s better. For now, anyway.’

His voice was nice, well-spoken without being posh. He was wearing well-cut navy trousers and a mulberry and blue striped shirt. The watch on his wrist was a black and gold Breitling. And —

she now knew it was true; believed him absolutely — he was her actual biological father.

‘When I was little I always thought my dad was a film star,’ said Lola, ‘because the only Americans I knew were the ones I’d seen on TV.’

‘And you got yourself an advertising exec instead. Bad luck.’

‘That’s OK. It’s just weird, all these years imagining you being an American, talking like an American, and now having to lose that idea. I used to wonder if the dark one from Starsky and Hutch was my dad.’

‘Sorry.’

‘I never much liked his cardigans anyway. Or the guy from Miami Vice,’ said Lola. Don Johnson.’

Nick said gravely, ‘I promise I’ve never pushed up the sleeves of my suit.’

‘Or Robert Wagner from Hart to Hart. Or John Travolta. Even thingummy with the dodgy moustache who was in Smokey and the Bandit.’

‘If I’d known, I’d have brushed up on my American accent.’ He shrugged, half smiled. ‘I can’t imagine why Blythe told you that.’

Lola glanced at her handbag, lying on the chair next to her and containing her mobile.There was nothing to stop her calling her mother right now and demanding an explanation. Or even using the camera on her phone to take a photo of Nick James, then sending it to Blythe along with a message saying ‘Guess who?’

But she couldn’t bring herself to do that.

Ooh, Tom Selleck, he’d been another on her list of possible fathers. She’d evidently had a bit of a hankering for one with a moustache.

Except Nick James didn’t have one.

God, this was so weird.

‘How did you find me?’

‘The piece you did on the local news,’ he admitted. ‘When I said I hadn’t seen it ... well, that was a lie. I was flicking through the TV channels that evening and there you were, with your name up on the screen. Lola Malone. You were Lauren when you were born.’

‘I know’ said Lola.

‘Sorry, I meant I knew you as Lauren. But the day I came round to your mother’s house when you were a baby, she handed you over to a friend and said, "Could you take Lola out into the garden?"‘

‘Our next door neighbour’s daughter couldn’t say Lauren so she called me Lola. It stuck.

Nobody calls me Lauren.’

He nodded. ‘Well, anyway, I didn’t know for sure if it was you, but it was an unusual name and you were the right age and colouring. So I had to come to the shop and see you.’

That was why he had engaged her in conversation.

‘Hang on, so you didn’t really like those books I recommended.’ Lola’s pride was wounded.

‘You were just pretending.’

Nick smiled and shook his head. ‘I loved the books. I read them because you’d recommended them. Don’t worry, I’m definitely converted.’

He was telling the truth.That made her feel better. Lola took another sip of tea. ‘I can’t believe I’m sitting here talking to you now. Wait till I tell Mum.’

A flicker of something crossed her father’s — her father’s! — face. ‘How is Blythe?’

‘She’s great. Living in Streatham. Having fun.’

‘Married?’

‘I had a fantastic stepdad. He died five years ago.’

Nick shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘But Mum’s doing really well. She’s started dating again. I’m trying to do something about her clothes. Did she have really weird dress sense when you knew her?’

He looked amused. ‘Oh yes.’

‘At least that’s something I didn’t inherit from her.’ Lola patted her furry white nylon suit. ‘I mean, I’d rather shoot myself than go out in public wearing something that people might laugh at.’

Nick nodded in agreement. ‘Thank goodness for that. I have pretty high standards myself.’

He did, come to think of it. Each time she’d seen him he’d been wearing expensive clothes well.

A million questions were bubbling up in Lola’s brain.

‘So what happened?’ she blurted out. ‘I don’t understand. Why did you and Mum break up?’

He paused. ‘What did she tell you?’

‘Well. A big lie, obviously. But the story was that she met an American guy called Steve when he was working over here one summer. She thought he was wonderful, completely fell for him, discovered she was pregnant, told him she was pregnant and never saw him again after that day.

When she went along to the pub he’d been working in, they told her he’d left, gone back to the States. They also told her his surname wasn’t what he’d said it was. So that was that. Mum knew she was on her own. She’d fallen for a bastard and he’d let her down. She told me she never regretted it, because she got me, but that she’d learned her lesson as far as men were concerned.

Then when I was four years old she married Alex Pargeter, who was the best stepfather any girl could ask for.’

‘Good.’ Nick sounded as if he meant it. ‘I’m glad.’

‘But none of that stuff was true, was it?’ Lola’s fingers gripped the now-empty mug in front of her. ‘Your name isn’t even Steve. So now it’s your turn. I want to know what really happened.’

‘What really happened.’ Another pause, then Nick exhaled and shook his head. Finally, slowly, he said,’What really happened is I went to prison.’

‘It was my own stupid fault. There’s no one else to blame. Everything would have been different if I hadn’t messed up.’