‘Would you like to stay, if you could?’
Here came the rush of neediness again. To reassure her, Gabe said patiently, ‘Of course I would.’
‘OK. In that case, stay.’ Savannah tilted her head. ‘I’ll pay you what you would have earned.
How about that?’
‘How about that?’ echoed Gabe. ‘How about no?’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m not a gigolo. Don’t take it personally.’ He held up his hands. ‘It’s just not something I could do. Look, I need to work tonight and tomorrow But I can come down on Sunday.’
‘Or I could come up tomorrow.’ Savannah looked hopeful. ‘Book a suite at the Ritz.’
‘Sunday’s better. I’ll see you here.’ Gabe shook his head; in London there were paparazzi everywhere and being holed up in a hotel wasn’t his idea of fun. At least down here in the depths of the countryside they could go out for walks, although Savannah’s preferred form of exercise was more bedroom-related. Not that he was complaining about that, and it wasn’t as if it would last forever. Next month she was off to the States to make two films back to back and their brief fling would be over.
‘Two whole days. I’m going to miss you.’ She threw her arms around him.
‘I’ll miss you too,’ said Gabe. He must give Sally a call on the way back, see if there was anything she wanted him to pick up. Reaching for his cup, he spilled a couple of drops of coffee on the flagstoned kitchen floor. Before he could reach for the J-cloth, Savannah had grabbed it and wiped up the drips, rinsed the cloth under the tap and squeezed it dry.
Gabe smiled to himself. Sally would never have done that. At best she would have casually scuffed at the drips with the sole of her shoe.
Chapter
Blythe loved to watch Lola at work in the shop, helping customers and making them smile. To the rest of the world Lola might be a capable 27-year-old but as far as Blythe was concerned she’d always be her little girl.
Spotting her, Lola waved and called over, ‘Hey, Mum, what a coincidence. Dad was in here just now! You missed him by five minutes.’
Blythe smiled and nodded, noting that Lola had stopped calling him Nick. She was happy for Lola that the two of them were getting on so well; she just wished Lola would stop trying to
‘Ooh, why don’t you come with us tonight? We’re going along to the opening of a new exhibition at the Simm Gallery, then on to dinner at Medici’s’ Eagerly Lola said, ‘How about the three of us going together? We can pick you up and drop you home afterwards.’
Correction, Lola would always be her persistent, never-give- up, endlessly hopeful little girl.
‘Thanks, love, but I won’t. You and Nick have a nice time. Art galleries aren’t really my thing.’
That was putting it politely; art galleries bored her witless.
Lola looked disappointed. ‘Oh well, what if we give the gallery a miss? We could just go to Medici’s instead, is that a better idea?’
Never-ever-give-up ..
‘Lola, it’s fine, I’m seeing Malcolm tonight. It’s quiz night at the Feathers and we’re going along to that. I don’t dislike your father, it’s just that we have our own lives to lead. Trust me, we’re both happier this way.’ Blythe hadn’t told Lola – had no intention of telling her – what had happened on the night of Lola’s dinner party when she and Nick had left at midnight and shared a taxi home. When it had arrived at her house in Streatham and Nick had invited himself in for a coffee, she’d gone along with the suggestion just to be polite. They’d chatted amicably enough for half an hour before Nick kissed her.
It should have been romantic but Blythe had felt nothing. At all. He’d done his level best but she hadn’t been able to summon so much as a goosebump of excitement. It was like being kissed by a packet of cornflakes.
Poor Nick, it hadn’t been his fault; he was undoubtedly a more than competent kisser, and with all the practice he’d undoubtedly had over the years possibly an Olympic-level one. But had he had any effect on her? No, he hadn’t. Once upon a time he’d meant everything in the world to her, but now she was completely immune to his charms.
Nul points.
It was a mystery how these things happened. But they did. ‘We could go upstairs,’ he’d murmured, all seduction guns blazing. ‘For old time’s sake.’
‘Oh Nick. Thanks for the offer.’ Blythe had smiled and given his arm a regretful pat. ‘But I don’t think so.’
He’d done the eyebrow thing then, that instantly familiar combination of surprise and disbelief.
It was the look she’d seen on Lola’s face when at the age of seven she’d opened a drawer and found, hidden away in a matchbox, all the baby teeth that hadn’t been magically whisked away by the tooth fairy after all.
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t want to.’
More eyebrow action. Something told Blythe he wasn’t often turned down.
‘Is it because of this other chap of yours? What’s his name ... ?’
‘Malcolm.’
‘Malcolm.’ For a split second Nick’s mouth twitched as if he might be on the verge of saying something disparaging about his rival. Evidently thinking better of it, he reined himself in and said instead, ‘Sweetheart, it’s us.You and me. Malcolm doesn’t have to know’
Blythe gave him a long look. ‘Oh Nick. I wouldn’t do that to Malcolm. And you shouldn’t ask me to.’
He had the grace to look ashamed. This time his expression uncannily echoed Lola’s on the morning of her first-ever hangover when, at fifteen, she had gone along to a friend’s party and ended up falling asleep in her friend’s parents’ bed.
Nick shook his head. ‘Blythe, I didn’t mean to—’
‘I know, I know, it doesn’t matter. And I’m not saying no because of Malcolm,’ Blythe told him.
‘I’m saying it because of me.’
He half smiled, accepting her decision. ‘Fair enough. That’s absolutely your prerogative.’ He paused, then added with a complicit glint in his eye, ‘It might have been fun though.’
Amused, Blythe showed him to the front door. ‘I daresay. I’m just not curious enough to need to find out.’
‘Mum? Hello?’ Lola’s voice snapped Blythe back to the present. ‘What are you daydreaming about now?’
OK, probably best not to say sex with your father. ‘Sorry, love, just wondering whether Malcolm would like a nice book about World War Two for his birthday next week. He likes that sort of thing.’
‘I thought you’d decided to buy him a sweater.’
‘Oh, I already have. A lovely stripy red and yellow one with an eagle on the front.’
In that case, better come with me.’ Lola steered her in the direction of the history section.
‘Sounds like poor old Malcolm’s going to need a book about World War Two to cheer him up.’
The weather had taken a distinct turn for the better in the last week; temperatures rose and the sun shone, drying out the ground and encouraging the first primroses to peek through the tangled undergrowth. Avoiding the public footpaths where they might bump into other walkers, Gabe and Savannah - strolled arm in arm through the woods on the hill below Minchinhampton Common. Savannah was talking about her experiences of working with other actors and the fights that ensued when they discovered their co-stars had negotiated bigger Winnebagos than they had. Even when you were an A-lister, evidently, size mattered.
. he said if he couldn’t have one as big as George’s, he was walking off the set. And the director said from what she’d heard— whoops.’
‘Careful’ Gabe caught Savannah as she tripped over a tree root.
‘All strong and masterful. I love being rescued by you.’
‘Don’t need any more invalids in my life just now. One woman crashing around on crutches is plenty, thanks.’