Jill Mansell - Chapter 1

‘Hmm? In what way?’ Now it was Gabe’s turn to look innocent, like a six-year-old being asked what had happened to the last Jaffa cake.

‘You and Sally,’ said Lola. She narrowed her eyes at the pair of them. ‘Shagging’

‘Oh my God!’ Sally let out a shriek of disbelief. ‘How did you know? How can you tell?’

‘OK, three reasons. One,’ Lola counted on her fingers, ‘Gabe’s stopped being a miserable old git. Two, you look so sparkly there’s only one thing that can have caused that.’

‘Sparkly? Do I really?’ Sally rushed over to the mirror.

‘And three, I just bumped into Mr Kowalski on his way out to the paper shop. He happened to mention you’d been making sex on ze stairs.’

‘Oh bum!’ wailed Sally. ‘We wanted to tell you ourselves.’

‘If you hadn’t woken up poor Mr Kowalski, you could have.’

‘OK, but we weren’t actually doing it, not out there on the stairs. I just accidentally dropped my stick.’

Ha, not to mention her knickers! Lola was still struggling to take in the news, but in all honesty not as stunned as she could have been. It was one of those scenarios that was so bizarre it made sense, so wrong it was almost right. Hadn’t she wondered from the word go whether Sally and Gabe would be drawn to each other, if they found each other physically attractive but were so at loggerheads that they simply couldn’t bring themselves to admit it?

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ said Gabe. ‘But I’m crazy about her.’

‘She’ll drive you mad,’ said Lola.

‘Probably. OK, definitely.’ He slid an arm around Sally’s waist. ‘But she’s been doing that since the day she moved in. I’m used to it now.’

‘She’s never going to be tidy,’ Lola warned.

‘We’re going to hire a cleaner.’ Sally was glowing with happiness.

Gabe grinned. ‘Isn’t it great?’

What choice did she have? If it worked out, of course it was great. Lola knew she should be thrilled for them and on one level she was. But at the same time, and she was deeply ashamed to have to admit it even to herself, there was that niggling worry that the balance of the relationship between the three of them was about to tip. Before, the triangle had been more or less equal.

Now it was changing shape, lengthening, drawing two of the points closer together and distancing the third. She was going to feel left out and unwanted and — oh God — lonely .. .

‘Are you worried that we won’t have time for you any more?’ Effortlessly reading her mind, Gabe let go of Sally and gave Lola a reassuring hug. ‘There’s no need, we won’t abandon you.’

‘Don’t be daft, of course I wasn’t worried. We’re all grownups.’ Lola submitted happily to the hug; how could she have thought everything wouldn’t be fine? ‘Ooh, that reminds me, I just saw a sign outside the King’s Head — that comedian you love is doing a show there on Saturday night. Johnny thingummy? I thought we could all go.’

She felt Gabe hesitate. Sally exclaimed, ‘Oh, what a shame, we’d have loved to, but ...’ She pulled a face and looked over at Gabe to help her out, as if Lola were a child asking how babies got made.

‘The thing is, we kind of decided to fly over to Dublin,’ saidGabe. ‘And we can’t really cancel now that the plane tickets have been booked.’

‘And the hotel.’ Sally shrugged apologetically.

Gabe said, ‘But how about if we book another ticket? Then you can come along too.’

Z000uuuup, that was the sound of the triangle lengthening, like Pinocchio’s nose. OK, it hadn’t really made a noise but they all knew it was there.

‘Thanks,’ Lola shook her head, ‘but I’ll be fine.’

Of course she would. It didn’t matter. She was happy for them, she really was. At the moment Gabe and Sally were besotted with each other but after a while the icky-yicky loveydoveyness would wear off and they’d slide back to normality.

‘You can at least stay for dinner.’ Gabe was presuasive, eager to make amends. I’m doing a cannelloni.’

Lola smiled, because the last thing they really wanted was a gooseberry sitting at the table. It’s OK, I’ve just eaten. And I’m shattered — all I really want is a shower and an early night.’

Which was probably top of their agenda too.

The following evening Nick came round to Lola’s flat after work. She was just telling him about Gabe and Sally when there was a tap at the door.

‘Hi, come in.’ Nick, answering it because he was closest, grinned at Sally and said,’Congratulations, I’ve just been hearing your news.’

‘Th-thanks.’ Sally tucked her hair behind her ears and looked flustered. ‘Um, Lola, about this weekend.’

‘Is something wrong?’ Had their flights been cancelled after all? Sally shook her head. ‘No, no, it’s just that I thought you might be at a bit of a loose end and Doug just called. His company’s taken a table at another of those charity dinners and he wanted to know if we’d like to go along.

Of course we can’t make it because we’ll be in Dublin, but I wondered if you’d be interested.’

Sally looked pleased with herself, as if presenting the answer to a single girl’s prayers and solving Lola’s abandonment issues in one fell swoop.

Lola shook her head, funnily enough not even remotely tempted. Being at a bit of a loose end was one thing, but was any end really that loose? ‘No thanks.’

‘Oh, go on. It’s at the Savoy! On Saturday night!’ Sally’s eyes were bright, her tone cajoling.

‘And there isn’t a quiz this time, so you don’t have to worry about showing yourself up.’

Up until a few weeks ago, Lola knew, she would have leapt at the chance to spend an evening in the same room as Dougie. Just breathing the same air and being able to gaze adoringly at him across the dinner table would have been enough.

But that had been then, when she’d still had hope, and this was now. Besides, Dougie would be there with Isabel doing the adoring bit at his side, leaving her, Lola, stuck at the far end of the table with the unfriendly know-alls who didn’t see why they should waste their time being polite to the brainless bigmouth who’d messed up the question about George Eliot and single-handedly lost them the New Year’s Eve quiz.

Phew, when you put it like that .. .

‘Well?’ Sally was still doing her bright-eyed persuasive thing. ‘Wouldn’t it be fun?’

‘I don’t think it would be much fun at all. In fact I’d rather boil my own head.’

At Stansted airport on Friday evening Sally walked straight past W. H. Smith.

‘Are you ill?’ said Gabe.

‘Why?’

‘You didn’t go in.’ He waved an arm at the lit-up, colourful displays.

‘There’s nothing I need.’ She held up her bottle of water, patted her lilac leather handbag.

‘But ... you haven’t got any magazines.’

‘You noticed.’ Sally looked pleased. ‘I decided I was reading too many. It’s time to stop.’

Proudly she said, ‘I’m going cold turkey.’

Gabe kissed her. ‘What will you do on the plane?’

Sally grinned and kissed him back. ‘Thought we might join the mile-high club.’

But when they boarded the flight there were loads of nuns on the plane, which acted as a bit of a contraceptive. Instead, as they flew over the Irish Sea, Gabe found his attention caught by the magazine being read by a middle-aged woman sitting further up the plane. For a split second as she’d opened the magazine he thought he’d glimpsed a photograph that ... except no, it couldn’t be.

Frustratingly the woman was now engrossed in an article about celebs with cellulite and wasn’t allowing him to get another look at the photo on the cover.