The phone rang.

‘Hi, it’s me.’ Lola, finishing up at Kingsley’s, sounded in a flap. ‘Just to let you know I’m going over to EJ’s so I won’t be home till late. But if anyone feels like cooking anything and saving some for me, they could leave it in my fridge for when I get back.’

‘Sorry. I’m working and Sally’s already gone out,’ Gabe said evenly. ‘She didn’t say where.’

There was a moment’s silence, then Lola said, ‘Oh, that’s right, her boss invited her over for dinner. She mentioned it yesterday’

Hmm, lying to her friend, covering her tracks. Gabe wondered how Lola would react if she knew who Sally was really with.

‘She took an overnight bag.’ Jealousy welled up; it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her.

‘Really? Well, it’s probably easier for work. No need to sound so disapproving.’ Lola sounded amused. ‘I’m sure Sal’s not having an affair with him. He’s a bit old for her.’

Gabe took a deep breath. Should he say it?

‘Anyway, wish me luck,’ Lola babbled on. ‘My stomach’s churning like an ice-cream maker.

I’m finishing with EJ tonight. God, I hope he takes it well, I don’t want him to be upset.’

That was it, Gabe realised he couldn’t do it. If he told Lola now, she was the one who’d be upset.

She had enough on her plate for one evening; let her get the EJ thing dealt with and out of the way first.

Chapter 47

It was like being on a really strict diet and having someone present you with a year’s supply of Thornton’s truffles. Lola had never actually been on a really strict diet owing to her inability to give up ... well, Thornton’s truffles, but she just knew this was how it would feel.Toby Rowe was a multimillionaire music mogul and an old friend of EJ’s. It had been thrilling enough being invited along to his fortieth birthday party, held at the kind of private members club Lola had only ever dreamed of visiting, but now Toby was offering something more.

Life just wasn’t fair.

‘Come on.’ Toby’s tone was cajoling. ‘It’s only for a week. You can take a week off work, can’t you? EJ, work your magic on this girl, make her say yes.’

There were people in this room so famous they’d make your head spin, and rumours swirling around that Bono was going to be dropping in later. If that happened, Lola knew her head would swivel right off.

‘Say yes,’ EJ joined in. ‘It’ll be fantastic. If I can take a week off, surely you can too.’

Toby already had a party of ten friends flying out in the firstweek of April to stay at his villa on St Kitts. Evidently it was large enough to accommodate two more. From the sound of things it could hold another twenty. And the people joining Toby and his girlfriend were all major players in the music business. Lola would be practically the only civilian. Just the thought of sunbathing around the pool in the company of singers with triple platinum albums to their names was almost too exciting to bear.

‘Go on,’ Toby added with a persuasive wink, ‘you know you want to.’

Lola bit her lip; of course she wanted to, more than anything. Imagine Robbie Williams asking if she’d mind rubbing suncream into his shoulders .. .

Oh God, this was torture. ‘I have to check the staff rota. I’m not sure if I can take the time off.’

‘Couldn’t you just phone in at the last minute,’ said Toby, ‘and tell the boss you’ve got flu?’

Wouldn’t that be nice?

‘Except I am the boss.’ Lola pulled a face. ‘And I wouldn’t believe me. I’m always suspicious when people phone in with a croaky voice and tell me they have flu.’

Toby said, ‘Or when they ring in with a croaky voice to tell you they’ve sprained an ankle.’

‘What I really hate,’ said EJ, ‘is when we’re recording an album and they phone up with a croaky voice to tell me they’ve got a croaky voice.’

Lola’s heart sank as he grinned his quirky, lopsided grin. He was such good company, the kind of person anyone would love to have as a friend. And he had buckets of money ... why, why couldn’t she look at him and feel a frisson of lust?

But there you go, she couldn’t and that was that. She wasn’t being fair to him. Checking her watch, Lola saw that it was midnight and she had to be at work by eight tomorrow morning. It was time to do what she had to do. She touched EJ’s arm and said, ‘I need to get home. If you want to stay on, I can get a cab.’

But EJ was far too much of a gentleman to do that. He shook his head and put down his orange juice. ‘It’s OK. I’m pretty shattered too.’

They said their goodbyes to Toby and his friends. As EJ drove back to Notting Hill, he told her more about Toby’s villa on St Kitts, about the view over Half Moon Bay, the golf course, the scuba diving, the spectacular Black Rocks

‘I’m sorry,’ Lola blurted out, ‘I can’t go.’

‘Don’t say that. You haven’t checked with work yet.’

Her fingernails dug into her palms as she squeezed her fists tight. ‘It’s not work.’

‘No?’ EJ pulled up at traffic lights, glanced sideways at her. ‘Is it the plane tickets? Because that’s not a problem. I’ll pay for those.’

The lights from the Burger King opposite were reflecting off his glasses. He was such a thoughtful person. Mental images of Half Moon Bay floated tantalisingly in front of Lola —

tropical palms, a glittering turquoise ocean, herself tanned and magically thinner than usual in a pink bikini .. .

‘OK, here’s the thing.’ Gearing herself up, Lola wished he could be driving the battered old Fiesta tonight; she didn’t want to be responsible for him pranging his beloved Lamborghini. ‘EJ, I really like you but we’re going to have to stop seeing each other.’ The lights changed and they moved forward; flinching and praying he wouldn’t go careering into the bus ahead of them, she said hastily, ‘But you’re a fantastic person.’

EJ remained in control of the Lamborghini. Drily he said, ‘But not quite fantastic enough.’

‘Oh, don’t say that! I’m sorry! It’s not you, it’s me, I just — mind that cyclist!’

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to hit the cyclist.’

‘But I don’t want you to be upset.’

‘Lola, it’s OK. It’s not your fault.’ He steered skilfully around a couple of drunks staggering across the road, then indicated left and pulled into a side street. ‘Would it help at all if I said I’d kind of guessed this might be coming?’

The streetlights illuminated the angles of his face. Behind the spectacles Lola glimpsed sadness mixed with stoicism. They’d never even slept together.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘You’re so nice ...’

‘I know I am. I also know I’m not the world’s best looking guy, but I was kind of hoping to win you over with my brilliant personality.’ He shot her a lopsided smile, seemingly able to read her mind. ‘That’s why I never tried to get you into bed, in case you were wondering. Because I knew you hadn’t reached the stage yet where you really wanted to. I thought if I was patient ... well, that the right time would come along and everything would be perfect. But there was always the risk that you’d bale out before it had a chance to happen.’ He pulled a wry face. ‘And guess what? I was right, you’re baling out. Maybe I’m psychic.’

‘But you’ve slept with so many incredible girls,’ Lola protested. ‘Famous ones! Loads more glamorous than me!’

‘Maybe I have.’ He shrugged, half smiled. ‘Maybe they don’t mean so much.’

‘Oh God, don’t say that.’ Lola felt terrible now

‘Sorry, I don’t want you to feel guilty. Hey, it’s OK. Really.

Can’t make chemistry happen if it isn’t there. It’s a shame, but I’ll survive.’

‘You deserve someone fantastic.’ Lola really meant it. ‘Thanks.’ EJ started the Lamborghini up again and drove her home.

Before she climbed out of the car, Lola hugged him hard and said, ‘Have a great time in St Kitts.’

He smiled, sad for a moment, then gave her waist a squeeze. ‘I have to say, all credit to you for telling me tonight. A lot of girls would have waited until after the five-star, all-expensespaid holiday.’

• ‘I know’ Lola wondered if she’d live to regret it. ‘I think I’m probably mad.’

As he planted a goodbye kiss on her cheek, EJ said with affection, ‘That’s probably why I liked you so much in the first place.’

Chapter 48

What a shame you couldn’t fall in love with a man as easily as you could fall in love with a coat.

‘This is it.’ Lola hugged herself and did a happy twirl in front of the antique, rust-spotted mirror propped against the side of the stall. ‘This is the one. It’s perfect!’

‘Fabulous.’ Sally nodded in agreement.

Blythe, ever practical, said, ‘How much?’

But Lola didn’t care. It was love at first sight. The moment she’d clapped eyes on the coat, fuchsia-pink velvet, long and swirly, she’d known it was the one for her. And they’d be happy together; the coat wouldn’t reject her. It wouldn’t haughtily announce that it didn’t want to be her coat. It would never let her down, stand her up or make her cry.

Plus it had an iridescent parma violet satin lining; how many men could boast that?

Oh yes, when everything else around you was going pear-shaped, there was always Portobello Market, with its bustle and colour and endless treasure trove of shops and stalls, to cheer you up.

Just as there was always someone to nag you about money.

‘Lola. Tag: Blythe prompted, pointing to the sleeve.

This was the downside of having a mother who went for quantity rather than quality every time.

Blythe lived for the sales. Her idea of heaven was rummaging through the bargain rails in charity shops where you could buy a whole new outfit for six pounds fifty.

‘Um ... forty-five.’ Lola attempted to hide the tag up the coat’s sleeve as her mother approached.

Too late. Blythe peered at the tag then dropped it as if it had barked at her. ‘Two hundred and forty-five!’ She gazed at Lola and Sally in disbelief. ‘Pounds!’ Just in case they’d thought she meant Turkish lira.

‘But Mum, it’s a coat.’

‘It’s a second-hand coat.’ Blythe was indignant.

‘Vintage,’ said the stallholder.

‘If this was in a charity shop you’d be able to buy it for twenty pounds!’

‘But this coat isn’t in a charity shop,’ the stallholder patiently explained.

‘Not any more it isn’t. I bet that’s where you found it, though. You probably bought it for a tenner and now you’re selling it for silly money! Lola, offer her fifty pounds and not a penny more. Barter with the girl.’

‘Mum, sshh, look at the label. If this coat was on sale in Harvey Nichols it would cost thousands.’

‘But see how thin it is. You can hardly call it a coat — it won’t even keep you warm!’

Lola briefly considered pretending to give up, carrying on along the road and secretly scuttling back this afternoon. But how could she risk leaving such a beautiful thing for even a few minutes? What if someone else came along and snappedit up? It would be like leaving George Clooney on a street corner and expecting him to still be there waiting for you hours later.

Besides, she was twenty-seven years old, not seven. She looked the stallholder squarely in the eye and said, ‘Two hundred.’

The stallholder, who knew a pushover when she saw one, shrugged and said, ‘Sorry, I can’t go below two thirty.’ The subtext being: because I know how badly you want this.

Lola took out her purse and began counting out twenties.

‘Lola, you can’t buy it.’

‘Mum, I love this coat. It’ll make me happy. And it’s my money, I can spend it how I like.’

‘I don’t know where she gets it from,’ Blythe tut-tutted as Lola rolled her eyes at the stallholder.

‘Two hundred and thirty pounds for somebody else’s old cast-off. That’s shocking.’

At last the transaction was complete and they moved on. Sally, after a week back at work, was relishing her day off and getting along quite niftily now with the help of her walking stick.

Blythe stopped at a stall selling patchwork waistcoats and said, ‘Now these are fun, and they’re only fifteen pounds!’

‘They’re horrible,’ said Sally.

‘Oh. Are you sure?’ Blythe looked to Lola for a second opinion.

‘Really horrible,’ Lola confirmed.

‘At least they’re new. Ooh, how about this?’ Excitedly Blythe waved a peacock-blue scarf adorned with silver squiggles. ‘Seven pounds!’

Lola nodded. What harm could a scarf do? The sooner her mother bought something, the sooner she’d stop going on about the coat. ‘Yes, buy it.’

‘No, don’t buy it!’ Sally let out a snort of laughter and waggled her hands in a bid to draw Lola’s attention to something on the scarf.