He was glad she’d thought of him.
Sally was outside the bathroom, waiting for him and visibly bracing herself. ‘Well?’
She’d probably had her ear pressed up against the door. ‘It’s fine. Nothing important.’
He saw her exhale. ‘Really? Oh thank God.You’re not cross that I didn’t tell you?’
Gabe shook his head. ‘No’
Sally hugged him. ‘Sorry. I love you.’ She leaned back, gazing into his eyes. ‘You’re sure it’s OK?’
‘I love you too.’ Kissing her, Gabe said, ‘And I’m sure. It was just someone wanting me to take a few photos of them. I’d probably have said no anyway.’
•
‘Girlie handwriting.’
‘That would be because it was written by a girl.’
‘Pretty?’
‘Yes.’
‘Girlfriend of yours?’ Sally ventured.
Had Savannah ever really been his girlfriend? Not if he was honest. Gabe shook his head. ‘No, just a friend. And I won’t be hearing from her again now.’
‘Well, good. Especially if she’s pretty.’ Sally eyed the letter folded in his hand. ‘Can I read it?’
‘Why? Don’t you trust me?’Then, when she hesitated, ‘Look, I know you’ve had a rotten time with men in the past, but I’m not like them.’
‘I know’
Gabe held up the letter. ‘Here, you can read it if you want.’ Sally visibly relaxed. ‘It’s OK. I don’t need to.You can throw it away.’
‘Trust me?’
‘I trust you.’
Gabe softened. Slowly but surely he would convince her that he’d never let her down, that she was the most important person in his life. Dropping the letter into the loo, he pulled the flush and said, ‘Good’
Lola was on the shop floor rebuilding a display of cookery books that had been casually demolished by a student’s backpack. As she balanced Delia on top of Jean-Christophe Novelli —
ha, it was all right for some — a woman with a bag-laden pushchair came racing into the shop.
Flustered and clearly in a state of panic she rushed up to Lola. ‘Excuse me, do you have a loo?’
The boy lolling in the pushchair glanced up at Lola, typical male, sublimely unconcerned by the problems he was causing. Feeling sorry for the woman — this was the joys of motherhood for you — Lola said, ‘Yes, over there to the left of the biographies, right at the back of the shop.’
The perspiring woman gasped, ‘Thanks so much,’ picked up the carton of fruit juice her son had just chucked to the ground and yanked the pushchair to the left. ‘Come on, Tom, let’s go.’
Before she could scoot him away, the little boy beamed up at Lola and said in a loud, conspiratorial voice, ‘Mummy’s got to do a big poo.’ Which hugely entertained everyone else in the vicinity. Sniggers abounded as the poor mortified woman scurried off. Normally an event like this would have made Lola’s day. Instead she carried on propping up books.
‘Are you all right?’ Cheryl arrived with another box of hardbacks to add to the display.
‘I think I need something to look forward to.’ Lola’s stomach rumbled as she said it. Checking her watch and realising it was twelve fifteen, she said impulsively, ‘Like a really nice lunch.
How about coming with me to Rossano’s? My treat.’
But Cheryl was already looking awkward and shaking her head. ‘Today? Sorry, can’t make it.
I’ve got an appointment.’
‘Oh.’ Why didn’t that sound believable — apart from the fact that Cheryl was the world’s most feeble liar?
‘Sorry! But some other time, definitely!’
Lola nodded. ‘Who’s your appointment with?’
‘Um ... a doctor.’
Well, how about that? Untruthfuller and untruthfuller. Lola looked concerned. ‘Are you ill?’
‘N-no.’
‘Pregnant?’
No!’
This was fascinating. Her assistant manager was by this time the colour of a plum.
‘I think I can guess,’ said Lola. ‘It’s Botox.’
Cheryl’s shoulders sagged with relief. ‘Yes, Botox.’
‘The time has come and you’re giving it a whirl.’
‘Well, you know’ Cheryl touched her forehead. ‘I’ve been getting a bit ... frowny lately.
Lola nodded. ‘I’ve noticed that too. Look, why don’t I come along and hold your hand?’
Cheryl said hurriedly, ‘Oh, there’s no need, it’s just a preliminary appointment to have a chat about it. I haven’t made my mind up quite yet.’
One o’clock arrived and there was only one thing for it.Lola left the shop first with a cheery,
‘Good Luck!’ and melted into the crowds of shoppers on the opposite side of the road. In all honesty, there was nothing like a spot of harmless sleuthing to cheer a girl up on a Tuesday lunchtime.
When Cheryl emerged from Kingsley’s five minutes later she turned left and headed up Regent Street at quite a pace. Lola tucked the collar of her black coat up around her neck, as all the good spies do, and followed at a discreet distance. Cheryl had re-done her make-up and taken her hair out of its ponytail. She was wearing a swingy white jacket over her red dress and the flat grey pumps she wore for work had been replaced with crimson high heels. She looked lovely.Any syringe-wielding medic would have been impressed. Relieved she hadn’t flagged down a cab, Lola stayed on her tail as she plunged down a side street. With fewer people around she’d be spotted if Cheryl looked back, might have to pretend to be engrossed in the eye-popping display
— yeek! — in the window of this Soho sex shop.
But Cheryl didn’t look back. She carried on heading deeper into Soho. Finally reaching Wardour Street, she paused outside a super-chic, green and silver-fronted restaurant. Lola hung back, watching with interest as she ran up the steps and disappeared inside.
Well, this was interesting. Cheryl was without question meeting a man and chances were that his interest in her wasn’t medical. (Why, Doctor, is that a Botox syringe in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?’) The big puzzle was, why was she being so evasive about it? OK, only one way to find out.
‘Good afternoon,’ said the charming blonde receptionist. ‘May I help you?’ The interior of the restaurant was pale green and silver, modern and expensive-looking and curvy
‘Hi there, I’m supposed to be meeting my friend,’ said Lola. ‘Her name’s Cheryl Dixon.’
‘I’m sorry, madam, we don’t have a booking in that name.’
‘I know, I’m so sorry, I can’t remember the name of the other person.’ Lola smiled, determined to out-charm the receptionist, and attempted to sneak a look at the list of names on the computer screen. ‘My friend just came in a minute ago, she’s wearing red stilettos.’
The receptionist swiftly swung the computer screen around so Lola couldn’t see it.
‘Sorry, madam, if you don’t have a booking ...’
‘Oh please, I have to see them, it’s urgent . .. her car’s being towed away ...’
The receptionist’s smile was now a thing of the past. ‘But that’s not actually true, is it?’
Blimey, what was this place, Fort Knox? The tables were situated in booths, which meant you couldn’t see who was seated at them. At this rate the restaurant had to be harbouring the Pope out on a hot date with Cilla Black.
‘OK, I need the loo,’ said Lola.
‘Madam, the cloakroom facilities are for customers only.’
Why was this girl being so obstructive? ‘Sorry, but I need the loo now. It’s an emergency.’ Lola gazed at her then raised her voice slightly. ‘I have to do a big poo’
She watched the receptionist wondering if she meant it. After a second — because what if she did? — the blonde pointed the way. ‘Over there, up the stairs and on the left.’