‘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.’

Brightly Sally said, ‘At least she’s too old to get pregnant.’

Which was another mental image Lola could do without. Mopping up the last of the Alfredo sauce from her plate, she amused herself instead by watching Gabe pretend not to care that Sally had dripped Frascati from her glass onto the table.

‘And how would you have felt if you’d met your father for the first time,’ Sally went on, ‘and he looked just like this Malcolm character?’ Her tone vas encouraging. ‘It wouldn’t put you off him then, would it?’

Oh crikey, it might. Especially the hairy toes. Lola went hot and cold at the thought. At least Nick James hadn’t done that to her; she was almost sure he wasn’t the type to get his toes out in public or wear

‘You’ve spilled a bit of wine,’ Gabe blurted out.

Sally shrugged comfortably. ‘Never mind, it’s only white.’ Gabe sighed. Lola kept a straight face and watched him pointedly not saying anything.

‘Oh, look at yourself.’ Sally grinned and reached behind her for the magazine she’d been allowed to leave – neatly – in the magazine rack. She opened it out, turned it upside down and blotted up the wine. ‘There, better now?’

‘Yes. Although a normal person might have used kitchen roll.’

‘This was closer.’ Turning the magazine back over and studying the wet pages, Sally said,

‘Anyway, it’s only Jack Nicholson in his swimming shorts. He won’t mind.’

‘Ah, look at him.’ Lola leaned across to peer at the shot. ‘Got a bit of a belly on him now. I had such a crush on that man when I first saw One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest?

‘She has pretty strange taste in crushes.’ Gabe reached for the Frascati bottle. ‘More wine?’

‘Yes please. Try not to spill it this time. Go on,’ Sally flashed him a saucy smile, ‘who else does she like?’

‘Ricky Gervais.’

‘Euww.’

‘That’s supposed to be a secret.’ Commandeering the magazine, Lola riffled through in search of inspiration. ‘I have normal crushes too! She jabbed triumphantly at a photo on the next page.

‘Heath Ledger, he’s one. And Johnny Depp, obviously.’

‘Not to mention Alan Sugar,’ said Gabe.

‘And my brother,’ Sally chimed in. She wrinkled her nose. ‘To me, that’s even weirder than fancying Alan Sugar.’

‘They’re both mean. But in a sexy way. Ooh, that reminds me, Tom Dutton.’ Lola’s eyes lit up and she puffed out her cheeks in appreciation. ‘Now he’s mean and sexy. And wasn’t he fantastic in Over You? I cry my eyes out every time I see it. Gabe came with me to the cinema and was laughing at me as usual ... where are you going?’ She swivelled round as Gabe jumped up and headed for his bedroom. ‘Can’t stand the competition? Feeling inadequate? Worried that no one will ever fancy you again?’

Gabe returned with his camera. ‘I forgot to tell you. I saw him.’

‘Alan Sugar?’ Lola’s heart gave a little skippety skip of excitement. It was one of her fantasies that Sir Alan would one day march into Kingsley’s in a filthy mood because he urgently needed a certain book and no one in any of the other bloody useless bookshops in the whole of London had been able to bloody help him. Then he’d fix her with his challenging, pissed-off stare and bark out the name of the book and she, Lola,would say, ‘Sir Alan, we did have a copy of this book in stock, but it was sold this morning. Happily,’ she’d continue before he could explode with frustration, ‘it was sold to me, and I have it in my bag, out in the back office. If you like, I’ll get it for you now.’ And the look of relief on Sir Alan’s face — relief and respect — would be just fantastic. Naturally he would whisk her off at once in his limo and insist on treating her to lunch at the Oxo Tower

‘Not him. Tom Dutton.’ Whilst Lola was joyfully running through her favourite daydream, Gabe had been busy with his laptop.

‘What? Where? At the airport?’

‘On the way to it. Hang on, nearly there.’

‘You’re so lucky,’ wailed Sally. ‘I never see anyone interesting. Bumped into Dale Winton once in a newsagents and that’s about it. He was buying TicTacs and— ooh!’

‘Let me see.’ Lola joined them in front of the laptop and jostled with Sally in order to gaze at the photo Gabe had brought up on the screen. ‘Wow, it is him. Who’s he kissing?’