‘Yes, but I have behaved pretty stupidly. I mean, throwing myself at a man who kept telling me he didn’t want me, it’s hardly the brightest thing to do. Anyway,’ hastily she drew a line with her free hand, ‘I won’t be doing that any more.’

‘I wish there was something I could do to help.’ Nick thought about it for a couple of seconds.

‘Do you want me to have a word with him?’

Lola smiled, because that brought back memories. Once, when she’d been ten, a boy in her class had been teased about his ginger-ness and frecklediness. The teasing had carried on for a few days and the novelty had been about to wear off, until one morning the boy’s mother had turned up at the school, gathered together the group of culprits and given them a good talking-to.The entire school had listened, enthralled. Sadly, she’d been even gingerier and freckledier than her son, so from that day on he’d had to endure months of merciless mickey-taking directed at both himself and his mother.

‘Thanks, but there’s no need: She imagined Nick giving Doug a good old ticking-off, telling him not to be so mean and ordering him to be nice and give his daughter another chance. ‘It’s over.

He’s with Isabel now’

‘And you’ve got EJ.’ Nick’s tone was encouraging. ‘You like him, don’t you?’

Lola shrugged. Of course she liked EJ, but only as a friend. They kissed — which was fine —

but hadn’t slept together. He was great company and a nice person but the magic wasn’t there. It wasn’t fair on EJ and she was going to have to tell him. It was time to finish that relationship too

— if you could call it a relationship when you weren’t even having sex.

As they were leaving Café Rouge Nick said, ‘So, what happened to the money Blythe mustn’t know about? What did you spend it on?’

‘I can’t tell you.’

He laughed. ‘Tell me!’

Lola spotted an approaching taxi. ‘Really, I can’t.’ She stuck out her arm and flagged down the cab. ‘Sorry, Dad, but I can’t tell anyone. Ever.’

Chapter 46

Sally had done something to annoy Gabe and she had a pretty shrewd idea what it might be.

The tidiness issue – or rather the lack of it – had over the last couple of weeks become a real bone of contention.

OK, even more of a bone of contention than it had always been. She could tell because the difference in Gabe was pronounced. He had withdrawn mentally, almost as if he couldn’t be bothered to argue with her any more. He was also distancing himself physically, working all hours and spending less and less time at home. At first she’d been thrilled that he’d stopped nagging her to clear up after herself but after a while she’d kind of begun to miss it. As her torn calf muscle gradually repaired itself and she grew less reliant on crutches, Sally had even found herself once or twice doing the washing-up while there were still clean plates in the cupboard.

Not that Gabe had noticed or shown signs of being remotely grateful when she’d pointed it out to him; he’d been so distant and off-hand recently that she’d almost given up trying to please him.

Almost, but not quite. Because Gabe was being a grumpysod but Sally still wanted to cheer him up, get the old relaxed smiley Gabe back.

And today was her last day of being an invalid. At midnight, Cinderella-style, her sick note expired. Tomorrow she was going back to work at the surgery and she was looking forward to it.

Inactivity had bred boredom. She’d watched too much TV, read too many magazines, eaten far too many biscuits. In fact, she could do with expending a bit of energy now. Gazing around the flat, Sally decided to spend the day tidying up and .. . oh God, could she do it? ... de-cluttering the flat she’d devoted so much time to cluttering up.

Yes, she could do it and she was going to. Feeling energised already, Sally pushed up her sleeves and limped over to the ornate stained-glass mirror over by the window. She knew her passion for coloured fairy lights drove Gabe to distraction. OK, fine, she could live without fairy lights.

Reaching up, she unwound the ones draped around the mirror and threw them onto the sofa.

Then, because the mirror was now looking naked, like a Christmas tree brutally stripped of decorations, she took it down too.

Breathe in, breathe out, no need to panic. And that pink lampshade with the glittery fringing was another culprit; Gabe had always hated it. SaAy unplugged the lamp and added it to the mirror and the fairy lights on the sofa. She was on the verge of hyperventilating now but that was OK, no need to panic, it was only stuff. It didn’t make a difference to her life.

Cushions next. She’d keep her silver sequinned star-shaped cushion – in her bedroom – but the rest could go. And all the tea-light holders, which she knew Gabe found unbelievably pointless.

And the vase of peacock feathers on the floor next to the TV. And any magazines more than two months old. Right, start with the cushions, then move on to- Sally stopped in mid-fling at the sound of the letterbox clattering downstairs. The post had arrived an hour ago, so what was this?

Hobbling over to the window, expecting to see a spotty teenager delivering flyers, she peered down and saw instead the rear view of a slender blonde disappearing into the back of a black cab. The door slammed shut and the taxi pulled away.

Curious enough to go and investigate, Sally wrestled the armful of cushions into a black bin bag then made her way downstairs. Reaching the front door, she bent down and retrieved the envelope from the mat.

It was a plain, pale blue envelope with Gabe’s name on the front. Just that, Gabe, no surname, written in black ink with enough of a curly flourish about it to indicate that it had been penned by a girl.

Was this why he’d been so distant lately? Was Gabe embroiled in a tempestuous relationship that for some reason he hadn’t mentioned to her or Lola? As she slowly made her way back up the stairs, Sally itched to know what the envelope contained. Could she do that holding-it-over-the-kettle thing and steam it open? OK, maybe not; she’d tried that once during her miserable time with Toby the Tosser. Not only had the letter not been incriminating — it had been a dental appointment — the steam had turned the envelope all crinkly, making it glaringly obvious what had happened to it.And hadn’t Tosser Toby enjoyed getting his money’s worth out of that little slip-up? He hadn’t let her forget it for weeks.

Back in the flat Sally heroically put the letter down on the table. No snooping; instead she’d get on with the job in hand. Rummaging through one of the kitchen drawers she located an advertising card she’d kept — how spooky was that? — froma small local charity asking for items to sell in their shop. Can’t Deliver? We’ll Collect! promised the card, which was jolly helpful of them. She called the charity’s number and booked them in for four o’clock. There, now she couldn’t chicken out. Once everything was gone, it was gone for good.

Clean, clear lines might actually be nice. De-clutter your surroundings, de-clutter your life. As she energetically dragged magazines out from under the armchair, Sally began to feel better already. She could become a style icon, a champion of minimalism and space creation.

Blimey, and she’d always thought style icons were boring! She’d be turning into Anouska Hempel next.

Gabe stopped dead in the doorway, taking in the scene. Finally he said, ‘What’s going on?’

‘Ta-daaa! Just call me Anouska Hempel.’ To match the cool, clean lines of the flat, Sally had even changed into a floaty white dress.

‘Who?’ As he studied the living room, devoid of ... well, pretty much everything, Gabe said flatly, ‘So that’s it, you’re off.’

‘What?’ It was Sally’s turn to be confused.

‘Leaving, taking all your stuff with you. Moving out, moving on...’

‘No!’ She shook her head, dismayed by the realisation that this was probably what he’d been praying for. ‘I’m not going anywhere. I just tidied up. I thought you’d be pleased! I started doing a little bit then I got carried away. And guess what? I think I like it!’

Gabe exhaled audibly — with relief or disappointment, she couldn’t tell. He put down his camera and said evenly ‘So where is everything?’

‘Gone.’ Sally’s spirits plummeted; she’d been so proud of herself. Why couldn’t Gabe be proud of her too?

‘Gone where?’

‘Charity shop.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m turning over a new leaf!’ If her leg hadn’t still been hurting she’d have stamped her foot. ‘Gabe, why are you being like this?’

He shrugged. ‘Probably because I’m wondering why you’re being like this. It isn’t you.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Sally’s voice rose in frustration. ‘All my life people have complained about how untidy I am, and now I’m doing something about it you’re being all weird.’

‘I’m not being weird,’ said Gabe, who definitely still was. ‘I’m just wondering who you’re trying so hard to impress.’ He eyed her white dress and make-up and said with an edge to his voice,

‘Off out somewhere tonight?’

Like she was some kind of prostitute or something. ‘Yes’ Sally stared back at him. ‘Is that allowed?’

‘Who are you seeing?’

Honestly, damn cheek. In actual fact she’d been invited over to dinner by her lovely boss Dr Willis and his wife Emily to celebrate her return to work. Annoyed by Gabe’s attitude, Sally said,’What are you, my mother?’ and flounced into her bedroom. If he was going to be this stroppy and horrible, so was she.

When she returned ten minutes later with a black and white checked holdall, Gabe raised an eyebrow.

‘So you won’t be home.’

Having earlier turned down the Willis’s kind offer of a bed for the night in order to save her the tube journey into work the next day, Sally had now changed her mind. Maybe by thetime she returned tomorrow evening, Gabe would have snapped out of his mood. ‘Well done.You should be a detective. Oh, by the way, you’ve got a lett—’

‘What?’ Gabe looked up from his laptop when she abruptly stopped in mid-sentence.

Sally’s brain shot into overdrive, replaying the last eight hours at warp speed. The letter ... where had the letter gone? She’d left it on the coffee table before launching into her tidying frenzy and now it was no longer there. Somewhere along the way it had got swept up in the whirlwind and deposited goodness knows where.

‘Come on.’ Gabe sounded like Jeremy Paxman only more impatient. ‘I’ve got what?’

OK, she definitely didn’t need him shouting at her, which was what he’d do if she told him the truth.

‘A lettings agent after the flat. He called earlier, wondered if you were still interested in renting it out.’ As she spoke, Sally limped over to the magazine rack and began feverishly flicking through the few magazines she hadn’t despatched to the charity shop.

‘A lettings agent? What are you doing now?’

‘Just looking for the ... um, piece of paper. I wrote down their name and number in case you wanted to call them back.’

‘Why would I call them back? I don’t want to rent the flat out.’

No? Well, you know, I thought I’d take their number anyway, I’m sure it’s here somewhere.’

Bloody buggering hell, this was the last time she ever tidied anything up. ‘Let me just check in the kitchen bin.’

‘Leave it.’ Gabe waved her away from the kitchen door. ‘Don’t bother. If I want to speak to a lettings agent I’ll look in the Yellow Pages.’

‘OK’ She’d definitely thrown the letter out. And now she’d lied to him too, but he’d been so arsey he deserved it. Feeling guilty – but not guilty enough to confess – Sally picked up her holdall and headed for the door. ‘Bye.’

Gabe was bent over his laptop, scrolling through the day’s photographs. He muttered ‘Bye,’

without looking up.

Bastard. He hadn’t even wished her luck for her first day back at work tomorrow.

Reaching for her stick and limping more heavily than she needed to, Sally clumped out.

Gabe let out a groan and sat back on the sofa. He hadn’t even wished her good luck for tomorrow. The last ten days had been a journey to hell and back. All he could ever think about was Sally and, clearly, all Sally could think about was Nick James. Equally clearly, Nick must have passed some comment about the mess she surrounded herself with, prompting this afternoon’s out-of-the-blue blitz on the flat.

Gabe rubbed his face then ran his hands over his messed-up hair in defeat. And what had that business with the phone call from the lettings agent been about? Was that Sally’s way of dropping a hint, subliminally indicating that before long she’d be gone? Shit, and to think that for the first few weeks of her being here he’d wanted her out.