‘Look.’ Eager to help, Cheryl pointed across the dance floor. ‘Those people over there are looking at you.’

‘They’re laughing.That’s different.They’re pretending to clean their whiskers and lick their paws.’ Lola took another swig of water. ‘I don’t mind. I’m just saying. Actually, those celebrities who whinge and moan about being pestered every time they go out could do a lot worse than get themselves a nice bunny suit.’

‘Hey, at least you aren’t Barney the Dinosaur.’

Poor old Tim, his outfit was even hotter and heavier than her own. Lola watched him attempting to dance like George Michael when he was still straight, wincing as his dinosaur tailswung lethally from side to side. Helen, dressed as Cleopatra, was gamely bopping around with Batman, aka Darren, who had legs like string beans. In the far corner of the dance floor a group of Hogwarts students with black bin-bag cloaks were climbing onto their broomsticks

‘I can see someone looking at you.’ Cheryl gave her a nudge. Lola didn’t get her hopes up.

‘Where?’

‘Over there, just cone in.’ Cheryl nodded at the door. ‘The one in the blue shirt, see him yet? He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he got here. Actually ...’ Her voice trailed off as she peered more closely at the new arrival. ‘He looks familiar. Where have I seen him before? Ooh, and now he’s coming over!’

Lola surveyed him, glad she hadn’t got her hopes up. ‘He’s one of our customers.’

‘God, you’re right, it is. Did we invite customers along tonight?’

‘No.’ Mystified, Lola watched the man who wasn’t a private detective. When he reached them she noticed that the usual easy smile was tinged with something else, possibly nerves.

‘Hi.’ As she nodded in recognition, one of the bunny ears flopped down into her field of vision, which didn’t help.

‘Hi there. I wasn’t sure at first if it was you.’ The smile became a grin. ‘Nice outfit.’

‘Thanks.’ Lola paused as Cheryl melted tactfully away into the crowd. ‘So is this a coincidence, you turning up here tonight?’

‘No, it isn’t. When I was in the shop yesterday I heard your friend talking about the party here tonight.’

At least he was honest. ‘So are you a stalker?’

Another pause. Finally he shook his head. ‘Not really. I mean, I suppose so, kind of. But for a reason. Not in a creepy way, I promise.’

That was the thing, he just didn’t seem creepy. ‘Well, good,’ said Lola, indicating Darren on the dance floor, ‘because otherwise I’d have to set Batman onto you.’

The corners of the man’s eyes creased with amusement but beneath the surface he was still on edge. ‘Look, is there anywhere we could talk?’

‘About what?’

‘Something important. Sorry, I know this place isn’t ideal, but I didn’t want to do it at the bookshop. There’s a free table over there in the corner.’ As he steered Lola gently towards it, he eyed the empty bottle of water in her hand. ‘Can I get you another drink? Maybe a ... carrot juice?’

Lola stopped, gave him a look.

He raised his hands. ‘OK, sorry, sorry. I can’t believe I said that.’

‘I can’t believe it either. So far this evening eleven people have asked me if I’d like a carrot juice. Eight have asked me if I’d like some lettuce. Four have made hilarious jokes about popping out of a magician’s hat. Honestly, this place is just one huge comedy club bursting with Billy Connollys.’

‘Sorry, I’m usually a bit more original than that. Put it down to nerves.’

They reached the table. The man pulled out a chair for Lola then sat down himself.

‘Why are you nervous?’ Her right ear was falling over her eye again; impatiently Lola tossed it out of the way. ‘Sure I can’t get you a drink?’

‘I’d rather know what all this is about.’

Wham! finished playing and was replaced — surprise surprise — by Slade belting out ‘Merry Christmas Everybody’. Noddy Holder’s cheese-grater voice vibrated off the walls and everyoneon the dance floor punched the air, pogo-ing madly and singing along not quite in time with the music. Having watched them for a few seconds, Lola turned her attention back to the man and said, ‘Still waiting.’

In the dim lighting of this corner of the bar his expression was unreadable. ‘Twentieth of May?’

Something squeezed tight in Lola’s chest. ‘That’s my birthday’

He sat back, exhaled, pushed his fingers through his dark hair then half smiled. ‘In that case you’re definitely my daughter.’

The furry white nylon ear flopped once more over Lola’s face. Little stars danced in her field of vision as she fumbled with the Velcro fastening her costume at the neck. But her fingers couldn’t manage it and heat was spreading inexorably through her body. Finally she managed to say,

‘Please, could you help me take my head off? I’m feeling a bit ... um, faint.’

Chapter 17

One minute you were in a wine bar more or less blending in with the twenty-two other people cavorting around in fancy dress, the next minute you were sitting in an all-night café with a mug of hot tea, attracting all manner of smirks and funny looks from everyone else in the place.

Lola still couldn’t assimilate what had happened; her brain had stubbornly refused to believe what he was telling her. Apart from anything else, this man wasn’t even American.Yet ... why would he be here doing this if it weren’t true?

‘Sorry.’ The man sitting opposite her said it for the third time. ‘I knew it was going to be a shock but I couldn’t think of any way of saying it that wouldn’t be.’

‘That’s OK.’ At least it was cooler in here. The urge to pass out had receded. Her head was still spinning but out of shock rather than syncope. ‘You can’t imagine how unexpected this is.’

He did that rueful semi-smile again. ‘For me too.’

Lola sipped her tea, burning her mouth but appreciating the sugar rush. ‘So you’re ... Steve?’

The semi-smile abruptly disappeared. ‘No. That’s not me.’

So. Not American, not called Steve. Something wasn’t right here. But he seemed so genuine, so convinced .. .

‘What’s your name then?’

What’s your name? What a question.

‘Nick. Nick James.’ Shaking his head, he said, ‘I can’t believe your mother didn’t tell you that.’

‘Tull, that’s nothing! She told me you were from New York.’ She looked at him suspiciously.

‘Are you?’ Was he, perhaps, pretending to be British?

His eyebrows went up. ‘What else did she say?’

‘Oh God.’ Lola almost dropped her cup. ‘Your eyebrows. That’s just how mine go when I’m surprised ...’ Tea slopped onto the table as her trembling increased, because the similarity was almost uncanny. ‘You’ve got my eyebrows!’

‘Actually, you’ve got mine,’ Nick James pointed out. ‘That’s incredible! And we have dark hair.’

‘You have your mother’s eyes and freckles.’

‘But not her hair. Before you saw me, did you think I’d be a redhead?’

He shook his head. ‘I knew you weren’t. I visited you once, when you were a baby!

Lola felt as if.. all the air had been squeezed from her lungs. ‘You did?’

‘Oh yes. Briefly.’ He smiled. ‘You were beautiful. Seeing you for the first time ... well, it was incredible.’

Her eyes abruptly filling with tears, Lola said, ‘And then you buggered off again! The tears took her by surprise and she brushed them away angrily; it wasn’t as if she’d had a miserable life without

‘No, no. God, that’s not what happened at all.’ Horrified, Nick James said, ‘Is that what you think, that I was the one who walked away? Because I didn’t, I swear. I loved your mother and I wanted the three of us to be a family, more than anything. She was the one who wouldn’t have it.’

‘Hang on.’ Lola stopped him, because this was just too surreal; there had to have been some kind of misunderstanding here. ‘This is Blythe we’re talking about?’

She had to double-check. Imagine if he sat back in dismay and said, ‘No, not Blythe! I’m talking about Linda.’

And the eyebrows had just been an eerie coincidence.

But he didn’t, he just nodded and said simply, ‘Blythe Malone, that’s right.’

‘Anything to eat, love?’ A waitress bustled over to their table, mopping up the tea Lola had spilled on the Formica.

‘No thanks.’ There was so much to take in, not least the discovery that her own mother had lied to her.

And in a pretty major way.

‘Sure? We’ve got a lovely lamb hotpot.’ The waitress helpfully pointed to the appropriate photograph on the laminated menu. ‘Or faggots and chips, everyone likes our faggots.’

Normally Lola would have thought of something funny to say to this, but her brain was all over the place. ‘I’m fine. Really.’

‘She’d rather have a plate of carrots.’ One of the men at the next table chuckled and nudged his friend, who broke into a buck-toothed Bugs Bunny impression.

‘Sorry.’ Nick James looked at Lola. ‘I should have found somewhere better than this.’

Offended, the waitress sniffed and said, ‘Charmed, I’m sure.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Lola shook her head. ‘I wish I wasn’t wearing a bunny suit, but that can’t be helped. And the tea’s great.’ She smiled up at the waitress. ‘Actually, I’ll have another one.’

‘My flat’s not far from here. We could go there if you wantto,’ Nick James offered. ‘But I thought that might seem a bit strange.’

‘A bit.’ Much as she’d have preferred to be wearing normal clothes, Lola had felt the same way about inviting him back to Radley Road.

He nodded in agreement. ‘Neutral ground’s better. For now, anyway.’

His voice was nice, well-spoken without being posh. He was wearing well-cut navy trousers and a mulberry and blue striped shirt. The watch on his wrist was a black and gold Breitling. And —

she now knew it was true; believed him absolutely — he was her actual biological father.

‘When I was little I always thought my dad was a film star,’ said Lola, ‘because the only Americans I knew were the ones I’d seen on TV.’

‘And you got yourself an advertising exec instead. Bad luck.’

‘That’s OK. It’s just weird, all these years imagining you being an American, talking like an American, and now having to lose that idea. I used to wonder if the dark one from Starsky and Hutch was my dad.’

‘Sorry.’

‘I never much liked his cardigans anyway. Or the guy from Miami Vice,’ said Lola. Don Johnson.’

Nick said gravely, ‘I promise I’ve never pushed up the sleeves of my suit.’

‘Or Robert Wagner from Hart to Hart. Or John Travolta. Even thingummy with the dodgy moustache who was in Smokey and the Bandit.’

‘If I’d known, I’d have brushed up on my American accent.’ He shrugged, half smiled. ‘I can’t imagine why Blythe told you that.’

Lola glanced at her handbag, lying on the chair next to her and containing her mobile.There was nothing to stop her calling her mother right now and demanding an explanation. Or even using the camera on her phone to take a photo of Nick James, then sending it to Blythe along with a message saying ‘Guess who?’

But she couldn’t bring herself to do that.

Ooh, Tom Selleck, he’d been another on her list of possible fathers. She’d evidently had a bit of a hankering for one with a moustache.

Except Nick James didn’t have one.

God, this was so weird.

‘How did you find me?’

‘The piece you did on the local news,’ he admitted. ‘When I said I hadn’t seen it ... well, that was a lie. I was flicking through the TV channels that evening and there you were, with your name up on the screen. Lola Malone. You were Lauren when you were born.’

‘I know’ said Lola.

‘Sorry, I meant I knew you as Lauren. But the day I came round to your mother’s house when you were a baby, she handed you over to a friend and said, "Could you take Lola out into the garden?"‘

‘Our next door neighbour’s daughter couldn’t say Lauren so she called me Lola. It stuck.

Nobody calls me Lauren.’

He nodded. ‘Well, anyway, I didn’t know for sure if it was you, but it was an unusual name and you were the right age and colouring. So I had to come to the shop and see you.’

That was why he had engaged her in conversation.

‘Hang on, so you didn’t really like those books I recommended.’ Lola’s pride was wounded.

‘You were just pretending.’

Nick smiled and shook his head. ‘I loved the books. I read them because you’d recommended them. Don’t worry, I’m definitely converted.’

He was telling the truth.That made her feel better. Lola took another sip of tea. ‘I can’t believe I’m sitting here talking to you now. Wait till I tell Mum.’