Jill Mansell - Chapter 1

Gabe felt sick. First Savannah, then a puncture on the M4 on the way back to London, and now this. What a ridiculous situation to be in.

Seeing as he couldn’t go back to the flat for a while, Gabe switched on the ignition. The car radio came to life, belting out an REM classic. Michael Stipe, never the cheeriest of souls, sang mournfully, ‘Eeeeeeeeeverybody huuuuuurrrrrrts ..

Hmm, with Sally’s track record the chances were that she was the one who’d end up getting hurt.

‘Eeeeeeeverybody huuuuuuurrrrts—’

Oh, do shut up. Impatiently Gabe jabbed the off button, cutting Michael Stipe off in mid-warble.

Who was he trying to kid? Right now, he was the one hurting. Jealousy was a new sensation and it was gnawing away in his chest like battery acid.

He didn’t like this feeling one bit.

Sally was in the kitchen when Gabe arrived home at midnight. Hobbling out in her dressing gown clutching a packet of Kettle chips, she watched him shrug off his jacket.

‘Where have you been? You look awful.’

Gabe glanced at her. ‘Not looking so fantastic yourself.’

‘Thanks’ Sally already knew she looked like poo. Feeling sorry for yourself and having a good old two-hour blub in the bath was capable of doing that to you. She’d tried to scrub away the shame of having made an idiot of herself but it hadn’t worked. Basically, as far as men were concerned, she always had been and always would be a walking disaster.

OK, a limping one.

But at least Gabe didn’t know about this afternoon’s debacle with Nick. Attempting normality Sally said, ‘Been working all this time?’

He shrugged. ‘Yes.’

‘Any good shots?’

‘No.’ Gabe was standing stiffly by the window gazing out into the darkness, his streaky blond hair dishevelled and his hands now stuffed into the pockets of his ancient jeans.

Annoyed by the fact that he hadn’t even noticed, Sally said, ‘Spot the difference?’

His jaw was taut. ‘What?’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, if this is how observant you are it’s no wonder you miss out on all the best photos! How does this room look to you?’

This time his gaze swept over the floor, the sofa, the coffee table. ‘Have you tidied up a bit?’

‘A bit?’ Incredulous, Sally exclaimed, ‘I tidied up a lot. Even with my bad leg! I cleared stuff away, put a load of magazines out for recycling, polished the table with Mr Sheen ... I took all my lipsticks and hair things off the window sill ...’

‘What brought this on?’

She flushed. A mixture of guilt, shame and displacement therapy had spurred her into action.

Keeping busy meant she didn’t have time to keep going over all the bad stuff buzzing around in her brain.

Aloud Sally said, ‘I just thought I should try and start making a real effort. I know it annoys you when I’m untidy.’

‘And you suddenly decided to do it just for me?’ There was a discernible edge to Gabe’s voice.

He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. ‘Or is it for the benefit of people in general?’

‘People in general.’ Sally bristled at his tone. ‘Why are you being like this?’

For a split second he opened his mouth and looked as if he was about to retaliate. Then he shook his head instead and said, ‘OK, forget it, I’m just tired. It’s been a hell of a day.’

You could say that again. And Sally knew her ordeal wasn’t over yet. Since it would look suspicious if she suddenly started avoiding Nick, she was going to have to put on a brave face and pretend everything was fine whenever they encountered each other ... oh God, maybe it would be easier to emigrate .. .

‘Look, I’m sorry I snapped.’ Gabe’s voice softened. ‘Why don’t you sit down and I’ll open a bottle of wine?’

More wine, after all the trouble it had got her into at lunchtime? Shuddering at the memory and only too aware that if Gabe were to turn sympathetic she could end up blabbing out everything

— oh yes, and wouldn’t that help matters — Sally shook her head. ‘No thanks, I’m off to bed.’

Chapter 43

Lola had just finished serving a customer when she glanced up and saw a vision entering the shop.

OK, not an actual vision. Doug.

It really was him. In person. Incredible.

What’s more, she hadn’t even realised she’d said his name aloud, but she must have done because Cheryl, next to her, followed the line of her gaze and said,’ That’s Doug?’ She sounded duly impressed. As well she might.

Lola nodded.

‘Great suit.’ Cheryl, a sharp dresser herself, always noticed other people’s clothes. She said approvingly, ‘Made to measure.’

Every last drop of saliva in Lola’s mouth disappeared. Because if he was coming into her store to buy a book, that was a good sign, surely? Choosing to shop at this particular branch of Kingsley’s had to mean he liked her. Gosh, he looked edible in that dark suit, all lean, mean and .. .

‘Hi!’ squeaked Lola as Doug approached the desk, clearly in a hurry. ‘Well, this is a nice surprise! What can I—?’

‘Sally’s been trying to get hold of you.Your mobile’s switched off and there’s something wrong with the phone line here.’

Lola knew this; a brace of telephone engineers were in the back office working on it as they spoke. ‘It’s being fixed. What’s wrong with Sally?’

‘Nothing. She says you have to get to a TV. Now.’ Doug was slightly out of breath. ‘She rang me at work twenty minutes ago. Do you have a TV in this place?’

‘A TV? This is a bookshop! What did Sally say it was about?’

‘She didn’t, just said to make sure you saw it. From the sound of things, it’s important. It had better be,’ Doug went on. ‘Because I had to leave a meeting to come here and tell you about it.’

Her heart racing and her mouth drier than ever, Lola whispered, ‘Is it something bad?’

Cheryl took charge. ‘He’s already told you he doesn’t know. Off you go,’ she said briskly, pushing Lola out from behind the desk. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’

Televisions, televisions .. .

Out on the pavement Lola pointed across Regent Street. ‘Dover and May, fourth floor.’

Doug said, ‘I thought we’d look for a bar with a TV in it.’

‘This is closer.’ Dover and May was one of Lola’s favourite department stores and they had dozens of TVs, rows and rows of them, hundreds in fact. ‘Quick, after this bus— oof ...’

Yanked back by Doug in the nick of time, Lola bounced off his chest. The taxi driver shook his head in disgust.

‘After the bus and the taxi,’ Doug said evenly. ‘OK, now we can cross the road.’

Through the doors of Dover and May, they raced past the perfume counters and islands of makeup, dodging sales girls waiting to pounce and spray scent at anyone who couldn’t dodge out of the way fast enough. Together they ran up the escalator. On the first floor they zigzagged past dawdling shoppers in thehomeware department. Up the next flight of escalators and through ladies’ clothes and shoes — Lola spotted a stunning pair with black glittery heels — then more escalators, followed by racing through menswear and almost knocking over a display of mannequins in stripy sweaters ... God, this was like getting in training for the marathon .. .

‘We’d have been better taking the lift,’ panted Lola. ‘Never mind, we’re here now’

Belatedly she realised something. ‘You’re still here. Don’t you need to get back to your meeting?’

They’d reached the fourth floor. Leaping off the escalator, Doug expertly steered her through the electrical department, past hi-fis and kettles and every kind of laptop. ‘Are you serious? After all this, I want to know what it’s about.’