The One You Really Want (11 page)

‘How'd you make the rice?'

‘Squeezed the icing through a potato ricer, then chopped the strands up.'

‘I can't believe it won't taste of curry! It's just the cleverest thing I've ever seen. Is this how you make your living?'

Nancy smiled. ‘It's just a hobby. Look, I'm about to make the hot towel. Pass me that knife and I'll show you how it's done.'

Twenty minutes later, the front door opened and shut as they were putting the finishing touches to the folded hot towel. Rennie yelled out, ‘Anyone at home?' and with commendable presence of mind Mia swung into action. By the time he reached the kitchen, everything was hidden once more.

Nancy, hastily wiping icing sugar from the table, said, ‘Hi. This is Mia, she's just moved in next door.'

‘Hi there!' Clutching her stone-cold mug of tea, Mia eyed him with undisguised curiosity. ‘You're the music guy, yeah? Nancy's just been telling me. Sorry, I should probably recognise you.' She pulled an apologetic face. ‘No offence, but it's not really my kind of music. I'm more of a Dolly Parton girl. My friends all take the mickey out of me, they think I'm completely weird.'

Rennie grinned. ‘I wouldn't say no to Dolly Parton myself. Nice to meet you, anyway. Just moved to London?'

Nancy wondered where Connor O'Shea had met Mia. Not on holiday, surely. Her creamy skin clearly hadn't seen the sun for months.

‘Just,' Mia agreed chattily. ‘I'm brand new! But isn't this great, having friendly neighbours? It makes all the difference. I don't know a soul in London, apart from my dad.'

‘And Connor,' Nancy reminded her.

‘Sorry?'

‘Connor. You know him as well. That makes two people.'

The corners of Mia's mouth began to twitch.

‘I can't wait to tell him this. Did you really think he was my boyfriend? I'm sixteen,' said Mia, grinning broadly. ‘Connor's my dad.'

Nancy blushed at her mistake. Rennie, roaring with laughter, flung an arm round her shoulders and said, ‘The name's Pas. Faux Pas.'

Watching with interest, Mia said, ‘How about you two, then? Is Nancy your girlfriend?'

Honestly, was it possible to turn any redder? Spluttering with fresh embarrassment, Nancy said, ‘No I am not!'

Mia was unperturbed. ‘You get on well, though. Look at you.'

‘I'm a hopeless case,' said Rennie. ‘She wouldn't be interested in someone like me.'

‘Why not? You're about the same age, aren't you? You're good looking,' said Mia with alarming directness, ‘and you seem pretty normal.'

Gravely Rennie said, ‘I'm mad, bad and dangerous to know.'

‘And I only split up from my husband two weeks ago,' Nancy blurted out. As if Rennie would be remotely interested in her anyway.

Mia said saucily, ‘Nothing like a new man to get you over the old one,' then shook her head and said, ‘Sorry, sorry, shouldn't be making light of it. But you're looking grand! You don't seem like a woman whose marriage just hit the rocks. Two weeks ago, blimey. Are you in bits?'

She's sixteen, thought Nancy. I'm being interrogated about my private life by a sixteen-year-old. For heaven's sake, any minute now she might start counselling me, doling out helpful sixteen-year-old advice.

She was saved from this indignity by the phone. Rennie, answering it, chatted briefly before passing the phone over. ‘It's Rose, for you.'

Excusing herself from the kitchen, Nancy spoke to her mother for fifteen minutes. By the time she was finished, Mia had left with her bag of flour and Rennie was leaning against the worktop frowning at the instructions on a packet of Marks and Spencer boeuf bourgignon.

‘It says Do Not Microwave. That's outrageous. Why would anyone buy a ready meal they can't microwave?' Perplexed, he gave the packet a shake. ‘What would happen if I did?'

‘You can't. It's in a foil container. You'd blow the microwave up.'

‘Bloody hell. Forty minutes.' Tut-tutting with irritation, Rennie crossed the kitchen and switched on the oven. ‘Mia had to get back to make her Yorkshire pudding. What's up?' Glancing over at Nancy, he saw that she was looking distracted. ‘Something to do with Jonathan?'

‘Hmm? Oh, no, not him.' Nancy frowned. ‘It's Mum. She's lost her job. The old people's home has been sold to a property developer.'

‘And she's out of a job, just like that?' Rennie's eyebrows shot up. ‘What happened to the old people? Did they get chucked into a builder's skip?'

‘It hasn't happened just like that. Mum knew about it weeks ago, she just didn't want to worry me. I think she was hoping to find another job, but it hasn't happened. She's sixty-eight. People aren't interested in taking on a sixty-eight year old. I can't imagine my mum not working,' Nancy went on. ‘She's just not the type. And she needs that bit of extra money, it makes a diff—'

‘What?' said Rennie as she skidded to a halt mid-syllable.

‘Out of the kitchen.' Snatching the foil container from him, Nancy shooed him towards the door. ‘I'll do that. Go and have a shower or something.'

‘I must smell terrible,' said Rennie with a grin.

The moment he'd sauntered out of the kitchen, Nancy hared over to the oven and rescued the cake. Thankfully the oven hadn't had time to get hot enough to do any damage. Exhaling with relief, she waited until the boiler fired up - bless him, Rennie really was having a shower - and carried the cake carefully up to her room.

Rose wasn't the only one who needed a job. Gazing out of the bedroom window, Nancy knew that she had to sort out her own life. Staying here in London, just coasting along, wasn't something she could do indefinitely. Maybe she should think about heading back to Edinburgh and finding work herself. If she moved in with her mother, they could manage the rent on the tiny flat more easily. Perhaps she could get a job in a department store or something.

Nancy saw Carmen, bundled up against the cold, heading up the road towards the house. Tapping on the window, she caught Carmen's attention and waved. Rosy-cheeked and swamped by her navy coat and pink scarf, Carmen looked up and waved back, and Nancy thought how much more cheerful she'd seemed since Rennie had been staying here. He was good for her, teasing her and making her laugh. Nancy suspected that Carmen would miss Rennie dreadfully - and far more than she realised - when it was time for him to go.

Carmen was still in the hall pulling off her gloves and unwinding the scarf from round her neck when the doorbell rang. She opened the door and gazed inquiringly at the stranger on the doorstep.

‘Yes?'

‘Oh. Hi.' The stranger on the doorstep, perhaps taken aback by her tone, said, ‘Joe James.'

‘And?' There was a bag slung over his left shoulder. Was he trying to sell her something?

Hurriedly he fumbled in the pocket of his leather jacket and produced a letter. As he offered it, Carmen wondered if maybe she'd been a bit brisk.

‘I'm here to see Rennie Todd. I do have an appointment. For six o'clock. Um,' he consulted his watch, ‘I'm a bit early. Sorry about that. I can wait out here if you prefer.'

‘No, that's fine. Come on in.' Feeling guilty, Carmen ushered Joe James past her into the house. The letter-heading bore the name of some charity she hadn't heard of, called Top of the World. ‘Come through to the living room and I'll find Rennie for you.'

‘He's in the shower.' Overhearing her on the landing, Nancy banged on the bathroom door and shouted, ‘Rennie, someone here to see you.'

‘Joe James,' Joe called up politely, ‘from Top of the World.'

‘Joe James,' Nancy relayed through the bathroom door. She listened to Rennie's muffled response, then came downstairs. ‘He'll be with you in ten minutes. Can I get you a drink?'

‘Coffee would be great. Thanks so much. I don't want to put you out,' said Joe.

‘Not a problem.' Nancy disappeared into the kitchen. Through the open door, Carmen was mystified to see her reaching into the tumble dryer and lifting out a glass mixing bowl piled high with assorted knives and packets of goodness knows what. Oh well.

In the living room, Joe sat down on one of the sofas and said, ‘Sorry to be a nuisance.'

‘You're not a nuisance,' Carmen lied, because she was obliged to keep him company now until Rennie appeared. He had a holdall next to his feet, into which he could stuff all manner of household objects if he was left on his own.

‘It's really kind of Rennie to see me. We sent out loads of letters to celebrities. Hardly anyone else bothered to reply.'

Carmen looked again at the letter she was still holding. She was the one, just last week, who had caught Rennie going through a pile of mail forwarded by his record company. Appalled by the cavalier way he zipped through the various letters - keep this, chuck that, answer this one, definitely don't answer that one - she had given Rennie a big talking-to.

‘What kind of charity is Top of the World?'

‘A really small one. No one knows who we are. Yet.' Becoming more animated, Joe said, ‘But we're doing our best. We help sick children do what they want to do, arrange trips and treats for them. We can't run to big foreign holidays like some of the other charities, but you can still make a child's day without spending thousands of pounds. And when you see the looks on their faces . . . well, it's just fantastic.'

Having overcome his initial nervousness, his whole manner had changed. Charmed by his uncomplicated enthusiasm, Carmen relaxed too. ‘And how did you get involved?'

‘My friend's sister died two years ago, of a brain tumour. She was nine. Her parents set up a charity in her memory. That's her photo at the bottom of the page,' said Joe. ‘Her name was Lucy. She was just the most fantastic little girl.'

Carmen studied the photograph of Lucy, a blond-haired imp with a beaming gap-toothed smile. Heartbreaking.

‘And you work full-time for the charity?'

‘Crikey, no, I just do as much as I can in my spare time. I'm a plumber in real life.' Joe pulled a face. ‘Not very glamorous, I'm afraid.'

‘But useful.' Carmen found herself warming to him even more. ‘My dad was a plumber. He loved his work, helping people when they had a crisis.'

‘That's the good bit. You're their saviour when you turn up to mend a broken boiler or fix a burst pipe.' Joe's eyes danced. ‘They're delighted to see you. They treat you like their new best friend. Then, when you send them the bill, they ring you up from their lovely warm house with its nice dry walls and bellow, “
How much?
”'

‘And cross you off their Christmas card list.' Laughing, Carmen thought what nice eyes he had, how open and honest his face was. His hair was short and trendily tousled, he was wearing a blue polo shirt and cream chinos and his shoes were gleaming so much she thought he'd probably polished them specially in honour of this visit.

‘They never invite me to their parties.' Joe shook his head mournfully. ‘They walk straight past me in the street. People are cruel.'

Rennie, hair still wet from the shower, burst into the living room holding two mugs of coffee.

‘Honestly, you can't get the staff these days. Nancy's just made me carry these through myself. I mean, doesn't she know who I am?'

‘You're a spoiled rock star who has to learn that not everyone else is your servant,' said Carmen.

‘She's so bossy,' Rennie complained to Joe. ‘Has she been bossing you around too?'

‘No, she's been fine.' Overwhelmed, Joe jumped to his feet, took the coffee mugs from Rennie, put them down on the table and shook his hand. ‘Joe James. It's great to meet you. Thank you so much for agreeing to do this.'

‘OK if I stay?' said Carmen.

‘See? Bossy
and
nosy.' Sitting down, Rennie winked at her. ‘Of course you can stay.'

Rennie drank his coffee and listened to Joe explaining the aims of Top of the World. In his holdall, he'd brought along T-shirts for Rennie to sign, which would then be auctioned. Rennie had also agreed to create an original design that would be printed onto more T-shirts and baseball caps.

‘I've got a couple of tour jackets and a pair of leather trousers as raffle prizes,' said Rennie, ‘but they're not back yet from the dry cleaners. When I finish the designs I'll courier everything over to you. By Wednesday, is that OK?'

‘Brilliant. We're holding a fundraising ball,' Joe explained to Carmen. ‘On Saturday night. It's going to be fantastic. But don't worry about getting a courier,' he turned his attention back to Rennie, ‘you don't have to do that. I can pop round and pick the stuff up on Wednesday morning - or whenever it's convenient. Any time you like. It's no trouble.'

‘You've got a meeting with your accountant on Wednesday morning,' Carmen told Rennie. ‘I'll be here.'

‘Great. Wednesday morning.' Nodding eagerly, Joe gazed at Carmen and she thought again how nice he was.

‘Well, if that's all.' Rennie rose to his feet and glanced at his watch. ‘There's somewhere I have to be by seven thirty.'

 

‘Somewhere you have to be by seven thirty,' Carmen jeered, when Rennie had shown Joe James out of the house.

‘In front of the TV watching
Coronation Street
,' Rennie protested. ‘What's wrong with that?'

‘You do have a reputation to keep up, you know. Rock star sex gods don't generally watch a lot of
Coronation Street
.'