Rumor Has It (8 page)

    OK, getting weird now. Was Max's sexuality not as widely known as she'd assumed? Tilly hesitated, then said, 'I don't secretly fancy him, no.'

    'Oh, come on! You must do! I think he's
really
attractive.'

    No, they'd talked about it last night; Max had definitely told her everyone knew. 'But he's… gay,' said Tilly.

    'Oh that.' Stella dismissed the protestation with a shrug. 'Not completely, though. Only semi-gay. He was married to Kaye for long enough. They had a kid together. So it's not as if he only likes men.' Twizzling a ballpoint pen between her fingers, she added blithely, 'There's definite room for maneuver.'

    'Right. Um, I hadn't realized.' Hastily, Tilly said, 'But I still don't fancy him.'

    'Why not? Are you gay?'

    Blimey.

    'No, he's not my type. And I just split up from my boyfriend so I'm taking a bit of a break from all that stuff.'

    'Hmm, but it's all right for you. You're younger than me. How old are you?' Stella was alarmingly forthright.

    'Twenty-eight.'

    'And how old do you think I am?'

    Tilly hesitated. 'Um…'

    'Thirty-seven. I know I don't look it, but I am.' Stella was alarm ingly modest too. 'And my husband and I broke up six months ago. He just left me high and dry. At thirty-seven! So it's not as if I have time to take a break. I want babies before it's too late. All those years we were married, we held off having children so we could enjoy ourselves. We always said we'd wait a bit longer, have fun while we still could. The plan was that this year—
this
year,' she pointed em phatically at the table in front of her, 'we'd start trying. Then out of the blue, he tells me he's off, that our marriage is over, and he wants a divorce. Bam, just like that. Talk about selfish. I mean, this is my whole
life
he's messing around with here. My whole future!'

    'Crikey, poor you.' The woman might be scary but, given the circumstances, it was a valid grievance. 'And is he'—Tilly wavered; how could she put this tactfully?—'seeing someone else now?'

    'No, no. Definitely not.' Vigorously Stella shook her head. 'No way. You know, I reckon he had one of those mental crisis thingys, a kind of panic attack at the thought of so much responsibility. I mean, I'm on the prowl for another man just in case it doesn't happen, but I can't help thinking that sooner or later, he's going to come to his senses and beg me to take him back.'

    'And would you really want that?'

    'God, yes, of course I would. He's my husband. I want babies. He'll be a great dad.'

    The bell went t-ting above the door and a middle-aged couple wandered into the shop.

    'He'll come back. He has to.' With a nod of determination, Stella changed the subject. 'Anyway, let's get you what you came for.'

    'Thanks,' said Tilly as Stella helped her load the framed prints into the boot of the car.

    'No problem. Give my love to Max. It's nice to meet you.' Stella straightened up. 'We could go out for a drink sometime if you like. I'll introduce you to my friends. Actually, that might not work. You're probably too young. OK, never mind. Well, I'm sure we'll bump into each other again, anyway. I'd better get back inside before that couple start helping themselves to the till.'

'Who? Stella? Oh God,' said Erin.

    See? This was the trouble with not knowing people's back grounds; you never really knew them until you knew them.

    'Why? What's up with her?' said Tilly. 'She seemed quite nice. Friendly enough. Quite blunt though. And very confident. I heard all about her husband running off. She's convinced he's going to come crawling back.'

    'Oh
God.'

    Tilly experienced a rush of relief that she hadn't arranged to meet Stella for a drink. 'What's wrong? Is she a complete nightmare?'

    Carefully, Erin put down the red beaded evening dress she'd been checking over. 'I've been seeing Fergus.'

    'Who?' Honestly, this was like twenty questions.

    'Stella's husband.' Erin licked her lips. 'I was going to tell you.'

    Tilly winced. 'Oh my God. Is that why he left her?'

    'No! Nothing like that. They broke up six months ago. We only started seeing each other a few weeks ago.' Fiddling with the shoul der straps of the beaded evening dress, Erin said, 'But obviously no one else knows. Especially not Stella. I don't think she'd take it very well if she found out.'

    'I only just met her and I already know that's the understate ment of the year.'

'Well, that's why we're not going to tell her.'

'Scary,' said Tilly. 'Is he worth it?'

A dreamy look spread over Erin's face. 'He's the nicest,
nicest
man.'

'Does he know she's waiting for him to go back to her?'

    'Of course he knows. She's told everyone in Roxborough!' Defiantly, Erin said, 'But it's not going to happen. Sooner or later she'll have to accept that.'

    'Crikey,' Tilly marveled. 'You're really serious about him.'

    'I've waited a long time for something like this to happen. And now it has.' Erin was all aglow. 'Fergus is worth being serious about.'

    While they were on the subject…

    'Ooh, guess who I met yesterday? The owner of the car I skidded into when I leapfrogged over that bin the other week!'

    'Oh bloody hell, you mean he recognized you? Was he cross?'

    'He was pretty good about it, all things considered. It was a brand new car.' Tilly couldn't suppress a squiggle of excitement at the thought of seeing him again tomorrow. 'He seemed quite nice too. His name's Jack.'

    Had she secretly been wanting Erin to clap her hands and shriek, 'Of course! My God, you two would be
perfect
for each other!'?

    Well, secretly, maybe she had.

    Instead Erin did a comical double take. 'Jack? You mean Jack Lucas?' She looked horror-struck. 'Oh no, don't even
think
of going there, that's one man you definitely wouldn't want to get serious about.'

    'Why does everyone keep telling me that?' It was like when you were little and your mum warned you that if you waded any deeper into the pond, water was going to slosh into your wellies.

    'Trust me, I've seen it happen a million times.' Erin had her pay-attention-now-because-I-mean-it face on. 'I'm saying it because it's true.'

    Tilly pretended to examine a long black velvet coat with a tur quoise silk lining.

    'Tilly. Are you listening to me?'

    'Yes. This is nice.'

    Let's face it, she never had been able to resist getting her feet wet.

'SEE HOW SHINY MY car is? That's because I put it through the car wash last night,' said Jack. 'So try not to throw yourself over the bonnet.'

    'I'll do my best to control myself.' Tilly emerged from Max's BMW, parked behind the Jag. Jack, waiting for them on the frosty pavement outside his newly acquired flat on Marlow Road, was wearing a faded blue sweatshirt and jeans. If she was tempted to throw herself over anything, it was him.

    'Hey, you. Stop flirting with my assistant. And you,' Max ad dressed Tilly, 'stop encouraging him.'

    Tilly spread her arms. 'What did I do?'

    'You don't have to do anything, that's the trouble.' Shaking his head, Max said, 'Maybe a burkha would help.'

    'It's OK, I'll behave myself.' Jack led the way to the front door. 'Come on, let's show you the flat.'

    Tilly swallowed as she followed him up the stairs; they'd only arrived a minute ago and here she was, palpitating already. Long legs, broad shoulders, loose piece of thread stuck to the back of his jeans… Tilly dug her fingers into her palms, resisting the tantalizing urge to pick it off, because touching Jack's bottom clearly wouldn't be a sensible thing to do.

    Phew, though, bet it would feel fantastic…

    'Are you looking at my backside?'

    'Oh Jesus, here he goes again,' Max exclaimed. 'Give it a rest, will you? Leave the poor girl alone.'

Tilly looked suitably grateful.

    'She was, though,' said Jack. 'I could feel her eyes on me. I can tell.'

    
Please don't let this be true.

    The second-floor flat smelled of fresh plaster and sawdust. The south-facing living room boasted a fine view over the park. 'The plasterers finished last night,' Jack explained to Tilly as Max strode from room to room, taking in every detail and scribbling notes in his Filofax. 'Now it's time for Max to come in and do his thing.'

    'I thought property developers just painted everything magnolia.'

    'Most do. But first impressions count, and Max knows his stuff. Make the place look a bit special and you'll attract a better class of tenant.'

    'Paying a better class of rent,' said Max. 'He doesn't hire me out of the goodness of his heart. It's all about making a profit.'

    'Money makes the world go round.'

    Tilly opened her mouth to argue that no,
love
made the world go round, then shut it again. Under the circumstances, perhaps she wouldn't say that.

    'OK, hold this tape measure. Keep it steady,' Max ordered. 'Let's get to work.'

    His mobile rang twenty minutes later as they were finishing measuring up. Max, with his hands full, nodded at the phone on the windowsill. 'Can you get that?'

    The name flashing up was Kaye.

    'It's Kaye,' said Tilly.

    'That's all right.' Max grinned. 'You're allowed to speak to her.'

    'Hooray,' said a cheery female voice when Tilly answered. 'You must be Tilly—I tried calling the house to see if you were there but no reply. So, what's it like working for the old slave-driver?'

    'Fine so far. We're just measuring a place up at the moment.'

    'Somewhere glamorous, I hope!'

'It's a flat in Cheltenham, for Jack Lucas.'

'Oh ho! And have you been introduced to Jack yet?'

    Aware of Jack's gaze on her, Tilly said, 'Um, actually he's right here.'

    'Oh ho
ho
!' Kaye chuckled knowingly. 'Say no more. I get the picture. And how are the two of you getting along?'

    Why did people always do that? Why did they say 'say no more' then promptly ask another question? Turning away from Jack—who was evidently telepathic and was grinning broadly—Tilly murmured, 'He seems OK.'

    'He is OK. Keep reminding yourself though, he's not to be taken seriously. Jack's for amusement purposes only. Buckets of charm and sex appeal,' Kaye went on, 'but you must never believe a word he says.'

    'I know.'

    'Excuse me,' Jack drawled. 'Am I being discussed here? What's that dreadful woman saying about me?'

    Max, still busy measuring the windows, said, 'The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.'

    'Tell them I can hear everything they say.' Kaye sounded amused. 'And tell Jack I'm just issuing the standard Government Health Warning. I rang because I wanted to say hello to Max's new Girl Friday. Lou emailed me last night to tell me how lovely you are.'

    'I'm really enjoying myself.' Touched by the endorsement, Tilly said, 'Lou's lovely too. She's a real credit to you.'

    'She means the world to me. Oh my baby, I miss her so much. Never mind.' Kaye exhaled and audibly gathered herself. 'I'll be back for a holiday at Easter. Only a few more weeks to go. Now listen, any time you want to call me, don't even hesitate. Any questions, any worries, just give me a ring, d'you promise?'

    'Absolutely.'

    Max announced, 'Kaye just asked Tilly if I'm the best boss she ever had.'

    'No no no.' Jack shook his head. 'She asked her if I was the most fanciable man in Roxborough.'

    'Sshh,' said Tilly.

    'Tell them I can still hear them. One other thing, has Lou men tioned anything about a boyfriend?'

    'No, not at all.'

    'Oh right. OK, I just wondered. She's mentioned a boy at school a few times recently, that's all. In a God-I-can't
stand
-that-idiot kind of way. So of course, I'm wondering if she has a bit of a crush on him.'

    'I'll keep an ear out.' Tilly felt for Kaye; it must be agonizing being so far away while your thirteen-year-old daughter was making her initial foray into the confusing world of boys. As if it got less confusing at any age.

    'Thanks… oops, I'm going to have to go now, they're calling me into makeup. I'll speak to you again soon,' said Kaye. 'Give my love to everyone.' Cheerfully she added, 'Even Jack.'

HOW WAS IT THAT you could spend weeks, months, years even, cooking perfectly edible meals without incident, then just when you were desperate for dinner to be perfect it all went pear-shaped?

    Erin let out a yelp as the red-hot oven shelf made contact with her inner wrist and went
ssssss
. Ow, that
really
hurt.

    And it wasn't only the food she was managing to cock up; pre paring to have first-time sex with Fergus was turning out to be a dangerous occupation. Normally she could shave her legs without incident in two minutes flat, but tonight—OK, probably because she'd been so determined to get them super-silky
ultra
-smooth— she'd given herself half a dozen razor cuts and the shower had ended up looking like the one in
Psycho
. Then, having stubbed her toe against the chest of drawers in the bedroom, she'd managed to drop the hairdryer on her other foot.