Rumor Has It (20 page)

    'Some nobody guy.' Maggie's tone was dismissive. 'He sent the stuff to cheer you up. So there you go—you still got one fan out there.'

    'Unless it's a trick to bump me off and he sprayed the flowers with cyanide. Better not get too close to them,' said Kaye. 'You might keel over.'

    'Is that a joke? Ha ha. Anyway, I'm just letting you know. Obviously I took them home, save them from going to waste.'

    Oh well, obviously. Flowers were flowers. Kaye said, 'That's fine. But you'll post me the chocolates?'

    'What? You kidding me, honey? They're
gone
.'

    'You mean you ate them?'

    'Oh please, now I know you're kidding me. I threw them straight in the trash.'

    Kaye's voice rose. 'But they were Godiva!'

    'Honey, they were
carbs
.'

    'OK.' Kaye sighed and gazed through the car windscreen as the end-of-school bell rang out. She should have known better than to think Maggie would even allow the chocolates to sit in her office, what with the obvious danger of stray calories escaping and being ab sorbed into her body through her skin via osmosis. 'Anyway, it's nice that someone's still on my side. I'll have to write and thank him.'

    'Don't bother. Really, there's no need. It only encourages these stalker types.'

    The first pupils had begun to spill out of the school. Kaye said, 'You threw away his address, didn't you.'

    'Oh,
hi
there!' Her whole manner transformed, Maggie ex claimed, 'Take a seat, you look
fabulous
… I'll be right with you… Kaye, sorry, honey, have to go, Damien's just turned up! Speak soon, bye now…'

    Dial tone. Hollywood's way of letting you know you weren't im portant. Damien was Maggie's latest signing, her rising star, evidently on course—if Maggie had her way—to be the next Brad Pitt.

    Kaye closed her phone. Oh, for the days when she had been Maggie's favorite client.

    Next to her, Tilly said consolingly, 'We'll stop on the way home and buy you a Snickers bar. Who wants Godiva chocolates anyway?'

    'Hmm, let me think. You? Me? Lou?
Everyone?'

    'Who sent them?'

    'We'll never know. One of life's mysteries. There's Lou coming out now… ooh, is that Eddie with her?'

    Tilly leaned sideways to get a better look. 'Yep, that's him.'

    Watching intently as Lou and the boy came down the steps to gether, Kaye said with pride, 'He's a bit of a looker, isn't he? Rather attractive. I was going to ask you before to take a sneaky picture of him with your camera so I could see what he looked like, but that would have made me the stalker. And imagine the grief if Lou had ever found out… oh look, what's happening now?'

    For just a second Lou and Eddie had disappeared from view behind a gaggle of boys. Now they reappeared, Eddie brandishing a sheet of paper and Lou making a grab for it. The next moment, he was racing across the graveled driveway, laughing and waving the piece of paper above his head.

    'Isn't it sweet?' Tilly grinned as Lou launched herself after him, kicking up sprays of gravel as she sprinted along in his wake. 'All that energy, all those raging hormones.'

    Together they watched fondly as Eddie narrowly avoided falling into a yew hedge and Lou caught up with him. In one swift movement, she snatched the sheet of paper from his grasp then gave him a hefty shove. Still laughing, Eddie pretended to stagger backwards, clutching his chest. Lou followed up with a don't-mess-with-me punch on the shoulder and stalked off, reducing the paper to shreds en route before stuffing the pieces into a bin.

    'That's my girl.' Kaye experienced a burst of satisfaction. 'Don't be a pushover.'

    'Then again, if you really fancy a boy, probably best not to push
him
over either.'

    'They look so sweet together, though, don't they? Oh, my baby's growing up. How do other mothers cope when this happens? If pretty-boy Eddie breaks Lou's heart, how am I going to stop myself from wanting to break his neck?'

    'You're allowed to want to. You just aren't allowed to actually do it,' said Tilly. 'Crikey, who's
that
?'

    'Where?'

    Wordlessly, Tilly pointed.

    'Oh, I
say.'
Having followed the line of her finger, Kaye saw at once what she meant. Together they gazed at the broad shouldered, tightly muscled vision of sportiness wheeling a racing bike down the drive. His hair was light brown and cropped very short, he was wearing a dark green tracksuit, and he exuded health and fitness.

    Phew.

    'Probably just off for a quick cycle ride up to Scotland and back,' said Tilly, 'before tea.'

    The thing was, he really looked as if he might be. As Kaye mar veled at the outline of his thighs, Lou reached the car and flung herself into the back.

    'Hi, sweetheart. Who's the chap on the bike?'

    Lou rolled her eyes. 'Yes, thanks, I've had a good day at school, got a commendation in math, sixty-three percent in my history test, and we had chicken Kiev for lunch, my favorite.'

    'You know what?' Flapping away the great gusts of garlic fumes, Kaye said, 'I could tell. Is he one of your teachers?'

    'Mum, you've come here to pick up your only child, your won derful, talented, precious daughter. Not to ogle strange men.'

    'We're not ogling, we're just… interested.'

    'It's Mr Lewis. He teaches French and PE. Please don't tell me you fancy him, that would be
so
embarrassing.'

    Mr Lewis, French and PE. Well, that explained the muscles. The name rang a bell now; she'd heard Lou mention him from time to time. In fact… 'Didn't you tell me the other week that Miss Endell had a crush on him?'

    'Yeah, but it's not as if he'd be interested in her, she's middle aged. Lots of the mothers fancy Mr Lewis. So do some of the girls in the sixth form,' said Lou. 'But he's already got a girlfriend, so they don't have a chance with him either.'

    Mr Lewis was making his way up the tree-lined drive now, heading towards them on his bike.

    'Hmm, when's the next parents' evening? Don't forget to book me an appointment to see him.'

    'Mum! Oh God, he's coming over! Please don't say anything embarrassing…'

    Having spotted Lou in the back of the car, Mr Lewis braked and drew to a halt beside them. Up close, the blond hairs on his forearms glinted in the weak afternoon sunlight. He indicated that Lou should buzz down her window.

    'Louisa, you left your hockey stick on the bench outside the changing rooms. I've put it in the staffroom for safe keeping.' As he spoke, Kaye breathed in the smell of Pears soap; it seemed unfair that, in return, he was being blasted with garlic.

    'Sorry, sir, I forgot. I'll pick it up tomorrow.'

    Mr Lewis glanced at Kaye and Tilly, acknowledging them with a brief nod. Then, addressing Lou again, he said, 'You played a good game today. Couple of nice tackles there. Well done.'

    'Thanks, sir.'

    
Thanks, sir, your tackle's not bad either
. The renegade thought zipped through Kaye's brain. Lou would faint if she could mind read. Battling to keep a straight face, she caught Tilly's eye and saw that she'd been thinking along those lines too. Oh well, so long as they didn't actually say it out loud.

    Mr Lewis rode off, Lou buzzed the window shut, and Kaye and Tilly burst out laughing.

    'Honestly,' Lou heaved a long-suffering sigh, 'you two are
so
immature.'

    'What? What?'

    'Just because he said tackle, you've gone all giggly and stupid. And now it's going to be a nightmare for me because next time you meet him, you might do it again in front of him like Oliver Benson's mother. Every time she sees Mr Lewis she just can't stop coming out with this ridiculous high-pitched laugh like a hyena on helium. If you do that, I'll just die.'

    'I won't, I promise,' said Kaye.

    'You're too old for him anyway. He's got a girlfriend called Claudine and she's stunning. Promise me you won't make a show of yourself, Mum.'

    'Looks aren't everything,' Kaye teased. 'If he starts racing across the grass waving a sheet of paper, would that count as a sign that he secretly likes me? If he pretends to fall over so I can catch him up and give him a thump, does that mean he's keen?'

    'Oh please. Now you're being even more childish. Eddie Marshall Hicks is a prize prat and I hate him, so don't even go there.'

    'Come on, sweetie, you can tell us. There's a definite spark there. Boys and girls don't go chasing each other for no reason.' Entertained by the expression on Lou's face, Kaye said, 'What was it, a love letter?'

    'Oh right, of course it was, because I'm bound to be writing love letters to someone I hate. No, Mum, it wasn't a love letter,' said Lou. 'And I promise you, the only time you'll see a spark between me and that prat will be the day I set him on fire.'

WHEN YOU WERE TWENTY-EIGHT years old and a responsible adult, there was no reason whatsoever to feel awkward and embarrassed about visiting your GP and asking to go on the Pill.

    No reason
at all.

    The trouble was, Roxborough was a small enough town for people to know who you were and what you'd been getting up to lately. And Dr Harrison had been here forever; he could have heard the gossip about her and be about to deliver a stinging lecture about morals and decency and how it was just as well her mother was no longer around because she would die of shame if she knew what her wicked slut of a daughter was up to, not even married and having sex with a man who'd—

    'Erin Morrison,' the receptionist called out, causing Erin to jump and the three-year-old copy of
Cosmopolitan
to slide off her lap. 'Doctor will see you now.'

    Was that a note of disapproval in her voice? Erin stood up, aware that not only the receptionist but everyone else in the waiting room was looking at her. God, did they all know too?

    Fifteen minutes later, the appointment was over. Dr Harrison, bless him, hadn't lectured her at all. Clutching her prescription, Erin left his office feeling a hundred times better.

    Until she reached the waiting room and saw who was now seated on the chair she'd been occupying earlier. Even holding the same battered copy of
Cosmopolitan
. Was it too much to hope that she had been reading and taking note of the article: How to Retain Your Dignity When Your Ex Meets Someone Else?

    Evidently not. Stella looked up, her lip curling with hatred, and there was a general intake of breath from the rest of the room. Erin half expected the receptionist, like a showdown in a Western, to slam shut the glass partition and disappear under the counter. From the avid expression on the woman's face, it was clear that she was up to speed with the situation and had probably given them adjacent appointments on purpose.

    Although the chances were that Stella wasn't here to be prescribed the Pill. From the way she was sitting there like a coiled spring quivering with nerves and hatred, it was more likely to be horse tranquilizers.

    Which was tragic, of course it was. But it
really isn't my fault.

    'Marriage wrecker,' said Stella.

    Next to her, an ancient woman put down her knitting and said, 'Eh? Sorry, love, what was that?'

    Oh great.

    Stella said extra-loudly and extra-clearly, 'That one there, just leaving. She stole my husband, you know.'

    'Really?' The ancient woman did a double-take and pointed with a knitting needle. 'What,
her
?'

    Erin's face burned as she hurried past them across the waiting room. Just get out, get out,
now.

    'Oof, sorry. Hang on. Christy, get out of the way.' A harassed young mother struggling with a recalcitrant double buggy and a stroppy toddler in a Spider-Man suit was trying to squeeze through the doorway, forcing Erin to step aside.

    'I know! I couldn't believe it either when I found out!' There was no escaping Stella's voice behind her. 'I'm so much more attractive than she is.'

    Oh please, just get out of my way, quick.

'I not Christy,' bellowed the toddler, 'I
Spider-Man
.'

Climb up some walls then, instead of blocking the damn doorway.

    'I mean, what is she? Nothing! Dumpy and frumpy,' Stella an nounced with bitterness in her voice. 'Just a desperate, shameless little tramp.'

    The harassed young mother gazed at Erin in bemusement. 'Is she talking about you?'

    'Yes I am! Don't let her near your husband, she'll probably make off with him too.'

    'God, I wish. That'd be too much to hope for.' With a wry grin the young mother steered her stroppy Spider-Man into the room, kicked the double buggy into reverse, and managed at the second attempt to maneuver it through the doorway.

    Heart thumping, Erin was finally able to escape.

Two hours later, she was wrapping a turquoise and silver Karen Millen skirt in tissue paper when they heard a commotion outside.

    'What's that?' The girl buying the skirt frowned and crossed to the window.

    Oh God, please no. No no no��

    'Don't shop in there! The woman's a trollop!'

    No no
no no no.