‘I said second door on the left.’ Out in the hall Doug’s voice behind Lola made her jump. ‘That’s the second on the right.’

But he was a split second too late; she’d already opened the door and walked into his bedroom.

Bingo!

‘Sorry. I’m always getting my left and right mixed up. Wow, this is nice!’ Taking another step into the room, she drank in the burnt-orange walls, the duvet and pillowcases in bitter chocolate, the polished oak floorboards and mahogany furniture. This was where Doug slept, this was his bed. Lola did her best to picture him in it, except there was one small but vitally important detail missing. She couldn’t see any pyjamas but .. . ‘Do you still sleep naked?’

There, she’d said it.

Doug shook his head. ‘You don’t change, do you?’

Oh well. She shrugged. ‘I like to know these things.’

‘Even though "these things" aren’t any of your business?’

But he wasn’t sounding entirely pissed off. Encouraged, Lola said innocently, ‘I just wondered if you’d turned into the kind of man who wears stripy cotton pyjamas all buttoned up to the neck, like Kenneth Williams in Carry On Nurse.’

His mouth twitched. ‘Oh yes, that’s me. That’s what I wear.’

‘You don’t.’

‘I definitely do.’

‘You still sleep naked.’ Lola exhaled with relief; now she was able to picture him in his king-sized bed. Even better, ice queen Isabel wasn’t in there with him.

Hmm, ice queens probably had cold feet.

‘OK, you’ve had your snoop around,’ said Doug. ‘Now I’ll show you where the bathroom is.’

She couldn’t help herself; the question was bubbling up. ‘Do you really like her?’

‘Do I really like who?’

‘Isabel.’

As he steered her out of the bedroom and pointed her in the direction of the door opposite, Doug said, ‘Again, not actually any of your business. But if it helps,’ he paused, causing Lola’s heart to expand with hope, ‘then I suppose I’d have to say yes, I do.’

The pause had been deliberate. He knew exactly why she was asking and now he was getting his own back. Recklessly Lola said, ‘Is sleeping with her as much fun as it was with me?’

There, there was that flicker again. God, she loved that flicker behind the eyes.

‘Lola, you’re talking about ten years ago. I don’t even remember what sleeping with you was like.’

Which, if she’d believed him, might have counted as a put-down. Luckily Lola didn’t for a minute.

‘You know what I think? I think I must be having an effect on you if you’re having to say stuff like that.’ There was a warm glow in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with needing the loo. With a playful smile Lola said, ‘Because I know you’re lying now I remember every detail of every minute of every time with you, Dougie. And I still will when I’m ninety. Because it was the most important thing in the world to me. It meant everything. And I know you remember it too.’

Another pause. He took a step closer and leaned forward, causing her to suck in her breath .

‘It was almost the most important thing in the world to you.’ Doug whispered the words in her ear. ‘Remember? It came in second, behind money.’

Which put a bit of a dampener on a potentially promising moment. Doug turned and headed back to the living room and Lola paid her visit to the bathroom, which was white and modern and thankfully devoid of girly toiletries. Careful not to clink the bottle against the glass shelf, she unscrewed the top of Doug’s aftershave and inhaled. It never failed to astound her that smells could be so evocative. Christmas trees, her mum’s chocolate cake, fireworks, Ambre Solaire ...

so many smells, each triggering a different memory, and now she had Doug’s distinctive aftershave added to the list, one more unique scent with the ability to transport her back to the night she’d met him again, the power to make her knees go weak with longing.

And it would still be happening when she was ninety.

OK, better put the bottle back on the shelf before she dropped it into the sink; that would be a giveaway. Time to say her goodbyes and leave. Gazing at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, Lola pinched her cheeks and jooshed up her hair. With a bit of luck, what with everyone being jolly and wishing each other Happy Christmas, she might get the chance to give Doug a festive hug and a fleeting kiss on the cheek.

Not much to pin your hopes on, maybe. But every little helped.

’Oh, come here, don’t you look gorgeous, where did you get that scarf?’ Blythe flung open the front door and enveloped her daughter in her arms. As the car pulled away and disappeared up the road she said, ‘Did somebody give you a lift? Why didn’t you invite them in for a drink?’

Lola closed her eyes and revelled in being in her mother’s arms; at least it wasn’t going to be a completely hug-free evening. And yes, she was looking gorgeous, not that it had had the desired effect.

‘I would have,’ she fibbed, ‘but they were in a hurry. It was Doug.’

‘Doug? You mean Dougie Tennant?’ Blythe exclaimed. ‘Oh, he was always such a dear boy –

I’d love to have seen him again. You should have forced him to come in!’

Oh yes, and wouldn’t that have been relaxing? Earlier, as they’d all been preparing to leave Dougie’s flat, Lola had briefly cornered him and murmured, ‘By the way, my mum doesn’t know about the money thing, OK? I’d rather she didn’t find out.’

Doug had given her one of his withering looks, the kind that made her insides curdle with shame.

‘I’ll bet you don’t.’ It was horrible but there was nothing she could do. And shehadn’t been able to risk not warning him, because there was always the chance that Blythe could have come rushing out of the house, blurting out anything. As far as she was aware, Lola had known that Dougie’s mother disapproved of their relationship but that was all. The decision to finish with Dougie and move to Majorca had been Lola’s alone, typically impetuous and possibly foolhardy, and based on Lola’s decision that a long-term, long-distance relationship with Dougie could never work out.

‘But if he gave you a lift over here, that’s a good sign, isn’t it?’ Now, studying her daughter’s face, Blythe said hopefully, ‘Do you think he might be starting to forgive you yet?’

‘Mum, stop it, don’t get carried away.’ Phew, just as well Doug had driven off at the speed of light; Lola envisaged her mother telling him that there were worse things in life than a bit of wounded pride. Hurriedly she nipped her mother’s fantasies in the bud – it was bad enough being disappointed by her own. ‘He’s with his girlfriend. I went over to his flat with Sally. He only gave me a lift because she forced him to.’ Maybe she was being extra-suspicious but Lola also wondered if Doug had done it in order to avoid the festive goodbye hugand-a-kiss. When she’d clambered out of the back of the Mercedes with her bags of presents, he’d pretty much made reaching him a physical impossibility by remaining in the driver’s seat with Isabel next to him.

Had that been deliberate?

‘Oh well, never mind. Men and their silly egos.’ Blythe was nothing if not supportive. ‘Come on inside, it’s freezing out here. We’re going to have such a lovely time,’ she went on proudly. ‘I’ve got smoked salmon and Madagascan king prawns from Marks and Spencer. Your favourites.’

It was the not knowing how her mother might react that was causing Lola to hesitate. On the one hand she wanted, more than anything, to talk about her father.

Not her stepfather, Alex. The biological one, Nick.

On the other hand, it was Christmas morning and the very last thing she wanted to do was upset Blythe. Their family Christmases had always been extra-special, but since Alex’s death five years ago, she and her mother had made even more of an effort, drawing closer still, both of them treasuring this time together and cherishing all the shared happy memories that meant so much.

Which was why, despite longing to raise the subject of Nick James, every time she geared herself up to do it Lola felt her stomach clench and the words stick in her throat. She had the number of his mobile keyed into her phone. Was he wondering why she hadn’t contacted him yet? It was Christmas Day and the schmaltzy, happy-ever-after side of her - the kind that wept buckets over the festive films shown on Hallmark - had dared to fantasise about blurting everything out to her mother, followed by Blythe getting all emotional and admitting that she’d made a terrible mistake all those years ago, and that she’d never stopped loving Nick. Cut to Nick, sitting alone in his flat on Christmas Day, gazing blankly out of the window at small children having a boisterous snowball fight outside in the street - because in Hallmark films it always snows on Christmas Day. A look of regret crosses his face; he made a mistake and has spent the last twenty-seven years paying for it. Blythe is still the only woman he’s ever loved, but it’s all too late now, she’s The phone rings, brrrrrr brrrrrr. Nick hesitates then answers it. His eyes widen in wonder as he whispers, ‘Blythe?’ Cut to: a sunny, snowy hill overlooking an insanely picturesque London. Lola, wearing her beautiful sparkly white scarf, sends Blythe up the hill ahead of her and sits down on a bench to wait. At the top of the hill, Nick paces nervously to and fro through the snow. Then he sees Blythe and everything goes into warm and fuzzy slow motion until somehow they’re in each other’s arms, spinning round and round in that way that can make you feel dizzy just watching them .. .

Well, it could happen, couldn’t it?

‘Okey dokey, that’s the parsnips done: Wiping her hands on her blue striped apron, Blythe counted the saucepans and consulted her list. ‘Stuffing, check. Bread sauce, check. Chipolatas, bacon, baked onions, check check check. How are those carrots coming along?’