Oh, for heaven’s sake.

‘Dougie wouldn’t do that.’

‘He might.’

‘He wouldn’t.’

‘But he might,’ said Jeannie. ‘OK, maybe not this week, or even this month. But sooner or later the chances are that you two will break up. You’re seventeen years old. How many seventeen-year-olds spend the rest of their lives with their first love? Let’s face it, that’s why it’s called first love, because you go on to have loads more. You’re too young to stay with the same person, Lola. And so’s Dougie. I know you’re crazy about each other now, but that’s not going to last.

And if Dougie is the one who finishes it, you can’t go running to his mother crying that you’ve changed your mind and can you have the money now please? Because it’ll be too late by then.You’ll have lost out big time. Think about it, you’ll be all on your own.’ Mock sorrowfully, Jeannie clutched her chest. ‘Heartbroken. No more Dougie Tennant and no ten thousand pounds.’

So that was the advice from a so-called friend. Well, what else should she have expected from someone like Jeannie, whose parents had fought an epic divorce battle and left her with a jaundiced view of relationships? Jeannie now despised her mother’s new husband and was escaping all the hassle at home by moving to Majorca. The plan was to work in a bar, dance on the beach and generally have the time of her life. Sleep with lots of men but very definitely not get emotionally involved with any of them. Any kind of romantic relationship was out.

The memory of Dougie’s mother continued to haunt Lola all the way home, that pale patrician face and disparaging voice letting her know in no uncertain terms why she was nowhere near good enough for her precious son.

Lola pictured the smirk on that face ifJeannie’s cheery prediction were to come true. Then again, imagine how she’d react if she and Dougie defied her and got married! Ha, wouldn’t that be fabulous?

Except ... except .. .

I’m seventeen, I don’t want to get married just to spite someone. I’m too young.

Back home again, Lola was overcome by an overwhelmingurge to speak to Dougie. No plan in her head, but she’d play it by ear. When she heard his voice she would decide what to do, whether or not to tell him that his mother was the world’s biggest witch. God, how would he feel when he found out?

Dougie was staying in a bed and breakfast in Edinburgh. The number was on the pad next to the phone in the narrow hallway. Dialling it, Lola checked her watch; it was five o’clock. He should be there now, back from his visit to the university campus .. .

‘No, dear, I’m afraid you’ve missed him: The landlady of the B&B had a kindly, Edinburgh-accented voice. ‘They came back an hour ago, Dougie changed and showered and thén they were off. Said they were going to check out the pubs on Rose Street!’

‘Oh.’ Lola’s heart sank; she’d so wanted to hear his voice. ‘Who was he with?’

‘I didn’t catch their names, pet. Another boy and two girls .. . isn’t it lovely to see him making new friends already? The boy’s from Manchester and the pretty blonde one’s from Abergavenny! I must say, they do seem absolutely charming. I’ll tell him you rang, shall I?

Although goodness knows what time he’ll be back ...’

Hanging up, Lola heard Jeannie’s words again. It wasn’t that she was overwhelmed with jealousy that Dougie had gone out for the evening with a group of new friends, two of whom happened to be female. It was just the realisation that this was the first of many hundreds of nights when she would be apart from him and Lola started as a floorboard creaked overhead; she’d thought the house was empty.

She called out, ‘Hello?’

No reply.

‘Mum?’ Lola frowned. ‘Dad?’

Still nothing. Had the floorboard just creaked on its own or was someone up there? But the house seemed secure and a burglar would have his work cut out, climbing in through a bedroom window. Taking an umbrella as a precaution, Lola made her way upstairs.

What she saw when she pushed open the white painted door of her parents’ bedroom shocked her to the core.

Chapter 2

’Dad?’ Lola’s stomach clenched in fear. Something was horribly, horribly wrong. Her stepfather

— the only father she’d ever known, the man she loved with all her heart — was packing a case, his face almost unrecognisable.

‘Go downstairs.’ He turned his back on her, barely able to speak.

Lola was shaking. ‘Dad, what is it?’

‘Please, just leave me alone.’

‘No! I won’t! Tell me what’s wrong.’ Dropping the umbrella, she cried, ‘Why are you packing?

Are you ill? Are you going to hospital? Is it cancer?’

Grief-stricken, he shook his head. ‘I’m not ill, not in that way. Lola, this is nothing to do with you ... I didn’t want you to see me like this . .

It was such an unimaginable situation that Lola didn’t know what to think. When she approached him he made a feeble attempt to fend her off with one arm.

‘Daddy, tell me,’ Lola whispered in desperation and tears sprang into his eyes.

Covering his face, he sank onto the bed. ‘Oh Lola, I’m sorry’

She had never been so frightened in her life. ‘I’m going to phone Mum.’

‘No, you mustn’t.’

‘Are you having an affair? Is that why you’re packing? Don’t you want to live with us any more?’

Another shake of the head. ‘It’s nothing like that.’

‘So tell me what it is then.’ Lola’s voice wavered; they were both crying now ‘You have to, because I’m scared!’ - Twenty minutes later she knew everything. Unbelievable though it seemed, Alex had been gambling and they’d never even suspected it. Through his twice-weekly visits to a snooker club he had been introduced to a crowd of card players and gradually, without even realising it, he’d found himself being sucked in. They had all met regularly at a house in Bermondsey to play poker and at first Alex had done pretty well. Now, he suspected that this had been the plan all along. Then the tide had turned, he had begun to lose and the genial group had made light of his run of bad luck. When the losses had mounted up to a worrying degree, Alex had confided in them that he needed time to pay back what he owed them. It was at this point that the genial group had stopped being genial and begun to threaten him. Terrified by the change in them, realising he was in way over his head, Alex had done the only thing possible and concentrated all his energies on winning back all the money he’d lost. Since his bank manager wouldn’t have appreciated this as a sensible business plan, he’d borrowed the money from the friend who’d introduced him to the poker group in the first place.

A week later he’d lost it all.

He borrowed an emergency sum from a money-lender, tried again.

Lost that too.

Meanwhile his family was oblivious. When Lola’s mum asked him if he was all right, he explained that he was just tired and she told him he shouldn’t be working so hard. The following night, as he was leaving the garage where he worked as a mechanic, he was stopped by two heavies in a van who explained in graphic detail what they would do to him if he didn’t repay every penny he owed by this time next week.

This time next week was now tomorrow and desperate times called for desperate measures. Sick with shame and in fear for his life — the heavies had been phoning him regularly, reminding him that the countdown was on — Alex had decided to disappear. It was the only answer; he couldn’t admit to Blythe what he’d done, the hideous mess he’d made of his life. She and Lola meant everything in the world to him and he couldn’t bear it any longer. If Lola had arrived home half an hour later he would have been gone for good.

‘I wish you had,’ he said heavily. ‘You told us you were going shopping in Oxford Street this afternoon. I thought I was safe here.’

Shopping in Oxford Street. She’d completely forgotten about that after Dougie’s mother had dropped her bombshell.

Lola, her face wet with tears, said, ‘But I didn’t, and now I know’

‘I still have to go. I can’t face your mother. I’d be better off dead,’ said Alex in desperation. ‘But I’d rather do it my way than stay to find out what those bastards have in store for me .. . oh God, I can’t believe this is happening, how could I have been so stupid ...’

Hugging him tightly, Lola already knew she had no choice. Her biological father, an American boy, had done a bunk the moment he’d found out that Blythe was pregnant. But it hadn’t mattered because Alex had come along two years later. He loved Lola as if she were his own daughter. He had made her boiled eggs with toast soldiers, he’d taught her to ride a bike, together they had made up silly songs and driven her mother mad, singing them over and over again; she had run to him when she’d been stung by a wasp, he had driven her all the way to Birmingham to see a boy band who were playing at the NEC. His love for her was absolutely unconditional .. .

‘I can help you,’ said Lola. ‘You don’t have to leave.’

‘Trust me, I do.’

Dry-eyed – this was too important for tears - she said, ‘I can get the money for you.’

‘Sweetheart, you can’t. It’s fifteen thousand pounds.’

Her stomach in knots, Lola didn’t allow herself to think of the repercussions. ‘I can get you most of it.’

And when Alex shook his head in disbelief she told him how.

When she’d finished he shook his head with even more vehemence. ‘No, no, I can’t let you do that. No way in the world, absolutely not.’

But what was the alternative? For him to disappear from their lives? For her to lose the only father she had ever known? For her mother’s world to be shattered?