What Lola Wants (London Dolls Book 1) (11 page)

She shivered. “I want to get the hell out of here.”

“We do need to hit the road soon if we’re going to make lunch plans, but I also need to throw on a shirt and shoes.” He let her enter first then locked the door behind them.

“Did you book us a table somewhere special?”

He nodded.

“But I’m wearing an old dress far too casual for fine dining.”

He threw on his garments and glanced at her. “You looked great in that ‘old dress.’ Besides, what I’ve got planned is special, but not fancy.”

“I still need to go home and shower, I smell like… you.”

“And I smell of you. Is that a bad thing?”

“It’s a very good thing, but I don’t want to advertise the fact that I had sex before meeting with my mother.”

“Good point. Besides, if I have my way, we’ll need a lot of showers today.”

“Hey.” She poked him in the ribs.

He flicked her hand away and locked up shop then strode to his car parked out back. She shuffled beside him, her hand locked in his.

Blue, folded paper sat beneath the left windshield wiper, jammed in there as if someone had taken the time to be sure it didn’t fly away. “This wasn’t here a second ago when we came to see about the commotion.” He yanked it out and unfolded the sheet of A4 paper. “It’s addressed to you?”

“Oh? From Al?”

Missing you, my sweet Louisa. I don’t care that you called on a police hunt for me, I’ll still do
anything
to get you to come back to me. Whatever it takes. See you soon.

“Yes. That’s his handwriting. It’s from Al, all right.” Her face paled and she tightened her grip on his hand.

“He’ll do anything to get you back?” Instinct told him to glance down. He was right and kicked a wheel. “He’s slashed my tires. All four of ’em. That’s it. I’m calling the police so they can take fingerprints. He’s broken his restraining order. Big time. And my patience.”

“He says he’ll see me soon.” Her face paled, and the note slipped from her grasp.

Chapter Nine

After filling the police in on the latest development and handing in the note for evidence, Dennis hurried her along to pack and they were on the road in a jiff once his car was fitted with new tires.

Most of the journey was spent in silence as she thought about Al and how twisted he was to have stalked her after she’d broken up with him. Freak.

She shuddered.

They passed the River Teign and turned onto the A3022. Torquay wasn’t far away. The dread she experienced was a harsh contrast to the joy she’d enjoyed hours before. She straightened in the passenger seat and glanced out the window.

Familiar sights and scents of the seaside town engulfed her, took her right back to her teen years. The rolling green hills, the cute roadside cottages with climbing roses she’d dreamed of living in as a child.

She snuggled against Dennis’s shoulder as he focused on the road ahead.

“You doing okay there?” he asked.

“Sure.” She let out a long exhale, not bothering to hide behind a smile. He’d see right through it.

“What’s up?”

“I just feel so bad about your tires and the cost for new ones. Now we’re running late and—”

“And nothing. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. But that’s not what’s really bothering you, is it?”

“Dennis Bay, I swear you know what I’m thinking before I even do.”

He stole a quick glance and caught her chewing her nails. “Don’t make me pull over and tickle it out of you.”

“Oh, that could be fun.”

He frowned.

“Fine.” She thumbed the radio dial and flicked through the stations. “I’m not exactly over the moon about the prospect of spending the afternoon with Mum. I’d much rather just hang with you at the beach. This whole Al thing has my brain out of whack. I don’t know if I’m coming or going.”

“Your visit won’t be long.” He rubbed her leg. “Then we’ll have the day all to ourselves. And you’ll be coming, by God I’ll make sure of that.”

“Is that a promise?”

He nodded. “Maybe we can visit a few of our old haunts? The Cream ‘n Coffee perhaps? Their chocolate ice cream is—”

“The bestest ever. With raspberry syrup and nut sprinkles on top. Yes. Can we go there first?”

He crossed his brows. “For breakfast?”

“Torquay ice cream is perfect for any meal of the day.”

“Best to see your mum first. Otherwise, you’ll be distracted all day and thinking of how the visit will go.”

Dennis was right, of course.

He swerved around the bend and pulled up outside the little house she’d grown up in. He unbuckled his seatbelt and removed the keys from the ignition.

“No,” she snapped. “I want to do this alone.” Sucking in a long breath, she gathered her courage.

“You sure?”

“No, but that’s what I’m going to do.” She turned to exit the car. “I need to stand on my own two feet for this one.”

“You don’t have to.” Leaning toward her, he entwined his fingers in hers and kissed her cheek. “I’m here for you.”

“I know, but I should go in there alone.”
Really, I should
. She stepped onto the street she’d played hopscotch on as a child and slammed the car door behind her. Her breath caught in her throat. No going back. She gulped then curled her hand around the wrought iron clasp of the gate to her childhood home. The chipped, powdered surface scraped her thumb and stung a little. Much like her heart.
Tension pulled her muscles taut. She wiggled and hoisted the old thing open, the familiar squeaking of the rusted metal brackets making her flinch. Last time she’d endured that noise, it’d been close to midnight some twelve years earlier. The very same creaking had split through the still night, and the light in her mother’s bedroom had come on. Seconds later, Mum had peered between the curtains, curlers dangling and sporting an emotionless stare. Upon laying eyes on her with suitcase in tow, her mother had done nothing to stop her from leaving. Just let the curtain fall and turned out her light.

Here Louisa was again. No suitcase, but she’d bet a barrage of I-told-you-so finger points still waited for her.

She glanced over her shoulder at Dennis in his little black car curbside.

“Sure you don’t want me to come with you?” he hollered.

“I’m sure. This is something I have to do on my own. And Al won’t be here, he doesn’t know anything about my mum. As far as he’s concerned, I’m from London.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” He frowned. “You know where to find me if you need me?”

She nodded and pointed to the beach bursting with teens dressed in neon shirts without a care in the world. She envied them in many ways until she remembered her own troubles as a teen and sighed with relief. She was her own woman, finally. “Out there. I want you to catch the most magnificent wave for me.”

“You know it, baby.” He winked. “Good luck. I’ll be thinking of you.”

She slammed the gate behind her and tottered along the cobblestone driveway. The little bungalow on Seaside Drive was sandwiched between two towering Victorian semis that had served as B&Bs for as long as she could remember. Her mother’s home seemed tiny in comparison.

The planters she’d arranged at the green door still sat there but were now packed with blossoming flowers. When she’d left here at eighteen, there had only been plant carcasses abandoned by her mother and left to dry.

She reached the little glass porch her father had built; paint chipping off, and splits all through the concrete base that ran across to the side of the door.

Hesitant, she considered turning back.

Dennis’s car rattled, alerting her that he hadn’t left yet. She called over her shoulder, “Go on, Dennis. I’m a big girl and can take care of myself.”

“I’ll wait ’til she gets to the door, then I’ll zap off.”

She rapped on the door. “Mum.”

Shrill tones of her mother chirping and singing out an old Cher song, “It’s In His Kiss,” grew louder. Her mum swung the door open, her mouth agape.

Louisa gulped. She wanted to ask when she’d had her last drink. The only time her mother sang was when she had swigged a lot of whiskey. After finding the end of the bottle, she would whimper and cry instead.

She looked healthy. Her red, short hair was styled with volume, and her blue eyes glowed with a smile. “Louisa, sweetie, you came home.” She flung her arms around her and squeezed her tight. “You came home.”

“Hi, Mum. You look good.” Unsure of how to respond to the embrace, she patted her on the back then slunk out from under her grasp.

“Come in, come in. Wanna cup of tea? I’ve a pot brewing as we speak. And I’ve got your favorite biscuits in. Shortcakes. I know how much you love my homemade biscuits. Always make a batch in case you come for a visit. They go down well at Coffee ’n Cream. Oh, I serve drinks there. From time to time, I bake those biscuits when the deliveries are late.”

Louisa should have complimented her mother on getting her life together, but being in that house again spiraled her back to when breakfast was a time of fixing coffee to sober her mum up instead of prepping for school, of checking cabinets for hidden bottles to empty before leaving, and of broken mugs and spoiled bread.

“You’re working?”
At my favorite hangout?

“I am. I’ve been living clean for a long while. When you left, it made me see what a bad mother I’d been. I wanted so much to be better when you came back.”

“It took me leaving for you to realize that?”

Her mother nudged her right shoulder forward a tad, like half a shrug. “I guess.”

“Then you should have let me go stay with the Bays when they offered.”

Her mother brought her finger to Louisa’s lips and shushed her before scurrying to the kitchen. She returned with a plate of baked goodies and a proud grin. She shoved the crockery under Louisa’s nose. “Have one.”

“I had to pay all the bills, clean house, care for you as if I was the parent, and then do a full day at school and three hours a night dancing. Bloody hell, Mum, I even had to hide the cheque book so you didn’t waste Dad’s life insurance payout on booze. How could you not see that I’d be better off under someone else’s care?”

“That was you? I used to go crazy looking for that thing.” Her mother threw her arms up and smiled.

Smiled?

Louisa gritted her teeth and tried calming herself before saying, “Yes, I know. I got a nice smacker of a red mark across my face to remember it by.” Louisa’s hands balled; it was all she could do to not storm out, never to return.

“I only hit you once. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I was drunk.”

“I would have been better off living with Jane’s family and you know it. I ate there most nights anyway. So why didn’t you let me go?”

Her mother grabbed shortcake and rammed it at her. “Go on, have a biscuit. I know you love them.”

“I only loved them because it meant you had been sober long enough to actually consider me for a change. I mean, I know you’re clean, but you’re still ignoring me. I asked you a question. Why didn’t you let me stay with the Bays? They’re good people, and they only wanted what was best for me.”

Her mother slumped and she crossed her arms.

Louisa’s temples throbbed, and she trembled, but she’d be damned if she didn’t stay until she had some closure, some understanding of why. “Didn’t I deserve a stable life?”

“That’s not fair, Louisa.”

“You want to talk about fair?” She stormed into the kitchen, pressed her hands against the worktop and took a calming breath before turning to her mother and saying, “Do you even know the shit you gave me? Or did all that liquor drown it out?”

“I love you. Can’t you see that? For any mother to give away their child is…the worst pain any parent could imagine. I’d lost John. I couldn’t lose you, too.”

“And I lost you both. When we buried Dad, we might as well have buried you, too.”

“Oh, dear. I loved John so very much. When he died, I felt lost.” Her mum flicked at a bracelet. “This is all so difficult, isn’t it? Can’t we put my illness in the past? I can make it up to you. Sit, go on to the living room. I’ll bring the goodies through.”

Louisa shuffled into the lounge and sat, her head a mess of confusion. Not once had it occurred to her that her mother had hurt, too. Louisa had lost her father, but her mum had lost her husband. The love of her life. Tears gathered and trickled down her cheeks, and a lump formed in her throat. She wiped away the salty liquid and saw the living room with fresh perspective. The house was not at all how it had been. Sure, the outside needed a lot of work, but the inside had been renovated; new country-style kitchen, freshly painted lemon-yellow walls, and slate-tile floor. And not a single pot in the sink. Usually, the kitchen stank from the jumble of dirty dishes and stale food left out. The living room was a pretty grayish-blue and housed solid, expensive looking furniture.

The fireplace had a new surround, and pictures of her from all her shows lined the mantel. She rose and counted them, recalling each of the performances. Twenty-six—no, twenty-seven. Her mum had twenty-seven photographs of her on stage. “You saw all of these shows?”

“No, I didn’t dare intrude without your permission. But I did buy programs from all the shows I knew about and snipped out my favorite pictures. You are this amazingly talented woman. Not because of me, but despite me.”

Tears streamed down Louisa’s face, and erratic breathing took over. She let out a long breath to bring calm. “Oh, crap. Mum, why didn’t you get in touch with me sooner?”

“Because I wanted you to be as proud of me as I am of you, I wanted to have my act together completely before asking you to let me into your life. I had to be sure I wouldn’t be poisonous to your happiness.”

“So, why did you choose to reach out to me now?”

“It’s good news, my baby.”

“Go on.”

“As you can see, I’m better. So, so much better.”

Louisa exhaled and let the tension in her roll from her muscles. Her mother had been thinking of her all these years. With patience, they might be able to get to a good place again.