Jill Mansell - Chapter 1

Lola hadn’t said as much, but she wouldn’t be surprised if Gabe was a little bit gay on the quiet.

He was exceptionally good-looking for a start. Obsessive-compulsive when it came to tidiness.

And what straight man would ever have eyelashes that long?

‘Right. Sorry’ Evidently having reminded himself that he was supposed to be making amends, Gabe said, ‘How about a cup of tea?’

Oh well, she could be conciliatory too. ‘Great. White please, one sugar.’

‘And I’m making fettuccine Alfredo if you’re hungry.’

Ha, absolutely without a question gay. Bisexual anyway. The Australian girl must have found out — caught him flirting with some leathery-wiry Crocodile Dundee type or something — and packed him off on the first flight home.

But who cared, if he was a good cook? Sally slipped out of her shoes and removed her silver drop earrings. ‘I love fettuccine Alfredo. OK if I have a shower first?’

‘Fine.’ But the way the word came out, it didn’t sound fine.

‘What? Why are you looking at me like that?’ From the way Gabe was acting, you’d think she’d just ripped the head off a baby bird.

‘You’re just going to disappear into the bathroom and take a shower now?’

Sally gazed at him in disbelief. ‘Am I supposed to make an appointment?’

‘No.’

‘You want me to say please? Is that it?’

A muscle was thudding away in Gabe’s jaw. ‘No, I don’t want you to say please. I just don’t want you doing what you’ve just done.’

He was off his rocker. Would he prefer her not to breathe? Bewildered, Sally said, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘This!’ He pointed to the dumped carriers, and to her coat and umbrella on the chair. ‘This’ Her handbag on the coffee table. ‘Those.’ Her shoes on the carpet. ‘And them.’ Her silver earrings on the window ledge. ‘And those.’ The armful of glossy magazines she’d tried to put on the arm of the sofa, which had slithered off and landed in a heap on the floor. ‘You came into this flat one minute ago and look at the mess!’

‘Oh. Sorry’ Was that really what was upsetting him? ‘I’ll pick them up later,’ Sally said nicely, to humour him. ‘I promise.’ No you won’t, you’ll pick them up now’

‘But I’m just—’

‘Now,’ Gabe repeated firmly.

‘But—’

‘Or I throw them out of the window into the street.’

God, talk about neurotic. But since he clearly wasn’t going to give in, she rolled her eyes and retraced her steps around the living room, picking everything up. Even though it was a complete waste of time because she was going to need all these things when she left for work tomorrow morning.

‘Good. Well done,’ said Gabe when she’d finished. You had to pity him really.

Sally said sarcastically, ‘Thank you, Mr Anal.’

‘My pleasure, Miss Slob.’

‘Where’s Sally? Have you strangled her yet?’ Having followed the smell of cooking up the stairs, Lola gave Gabe a hug. ‘Give me a couple more days.’

‘Ooh, Alfredo. My favourite.’ She inspected the pans on the hob. ‘So apart from the tidiness thing, how d’you think the two of you’ll get on?’

‘God knows. If I met her in a bar I’d think she was fine,’ said Gabe. ‘But that’s because I wouldn’t know what she’s really like.’ He paused. ‘She doesn’t have a boyfriend, right?’

Lola pulled a face. No. Bit of a disastrous history with men. One of them jilted her practically at the altar.’

‘And we don’t have to wonder why.’

‘That’s mean. You’ve just been dumped yourself.’

Gabe shrugged and tipped fettuccine into a pan of boiling water. ‘I’m just saying, she could get a crush on me. I don’t need that kind of hassle. Platonic flat-sharing only works as long as one person doesn’t secretly fancy the pants off the other.’

Enthralled, Lola said, ‘You think she fancies you?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ Another pause. ‘It’s happened before. And let me tell you, it’s the last thing I need right now.’

Lola pinched a slice of parmesan; she loved to tease Gabe about his effect on women. ‘Serves you right for being so gorgeous. What did Sally do to give herself away then?’

‘Oh, you know those looks girls give you. She was doing it earlier.’ Gabe added a carton of double cream to the garlic sizzling in the pan. ‘That kind of moony, pouty thing. I just thought, oh God, please don’t start, I can’t be doing with—shit!’

The hairbrush whistled past his ear and ricocheted off the kitchen wall. ‘What the ... ?’ Gabe twisted round in disbelief. ‘Sorry, but someone had to shut you up.’ Sally was in the doorway, wrapped in a brown silk dressing gown, her hair wet from the shower and her face the picture of outrage. ‘You’re talking rubbish, you’re making it all up! You’ve been chucked by some girl in Australia who didn’t find you irresistible so now you’re fantasising that someone else likes you, to give your ego a bit of a boost. But you can’t go around saying stuff like that.’ Her eyes glittered. ‘Because it’s not true.’

‘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 realised 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 jumpers, 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.’