Rumor Has It (22 page)

    'Or how about a DROOP?' Ever helpful, Max grinned as he unlocked the car and said, 'Dumpy, ropey, 'orrible, ordinary, and past it?
Youch.'

    'So sorry,' said Tilly. 'My foot slipped.'

    Only when she was queuing up at the counter to pay for her sultry beige lip gloss, sparkly bronze eye pencil, and oh-so-glamorous packet of panty liners did she find out. Momentarily distracted by the bottles of vitamins promising brighter eyes and clearer skin, she didn't realize the man ahead of her had finished being served. Jolted back to her senses by the woman behind the counter asking, 'Can I help you, love?' Erin opened her mouth to reply when a voice behind her rang out, 'Well, she's having an affair with my husband so she's probably here to stock up on condoms.'

    That drawling, sneering, all-too-familiar voice. Erin experienced the swoop of fear that went with it, the rush of blood to her face, and the sense of mortification that invariably—

    Actually, no, sod it, why
should
she be feeling all these things? Why the bloody hell should
she
stand here and take it? Adrenaline surged up from goodness knows where and Erin slowly turned to lock stares with Stella. Enough with the pussy-footing. She had the attention of everyone in the shop, didn't she? And Stella, with her basket containing a can of Elnett hairspray, aspirins, and a bottle of expensive conditioner
so
thought she had the upper hand.

    In a voice every bit as loud and clear as Stella's, Erin said sweetly, 'Condoms? Too right! It's amazing how many we get through.'

'I can't believe I said it.' When Fergus arrived at the flat an hour later, Erin was still shaking.

    'So what happened next?'

    She shuddered at the memory. 'Stella dropped her basket on the floor—
crash
—and shouted, "I don't know how you can live with yourself." Then she stormed out.'

    Fergus folded her into his arms. 'Oh baby, shh. You haven't done anything wrong.'

    'Maybe not before. But I have now. I was cruel.' The front of his shirt smelled of washing powder and offices. 'It's like she's drag ging me down to her level. I thought retaliating would make me feel better, but now I just hate myself.'

    'You mustn't. God, I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to put up with hassle like this. I'm going to ask my solicitor what we can do.'

    'Don't. No.' Shaking her head, Erin pictured more and more people getting involved, the situation spiraling out of control, each bitter exchange being quoted in court, and her own spiteful retort returning to haunt her. She couldn't live with the shame. 'Just leave it. We'll emigrate.'

    Fergus looked worried. 'Do you want to?'

    'No.' She managed a half-smile. 'I just really want it to stop.'

    Fergus kissed the top of her head. He said again, 'I'm sorry. I love you.'

    'I love you too.' Despite all the horrors, happiness still flooded through her. Giving up her relationship with Fergus simply wasn't an option; he was everything she'd ever dreamed of, from his gentle personality to his easy warmth and innate goodness. Better still, he was attractive without being physically perfect, which had evidently irritated Stella to no end but was wonderfully reassuring when you were less than svelte yourself.

    Not that she only liked him—loved him—because of that. It was just that not having to suck in your stomach and pretend you were a size twelve was a heart-warming bonus.

    'You know, we could go abroad.' As he spoke, Fergus's hand rubbed comforting circles over her back.

    'But I like living here. Honestly, I didn't mean it about moving abroad.' Gosh, he knew how to give a sensational back rub. 'And we have these things here—what are they called? Oh yes. Jobs.'

    'I was thinking of something less drastic. Look, next fortnight's chaotic at work, but I'm pretty sure I can swing a week after that. How about if I book us a holiday? Somewhere hot; my treat.'

    Erin twisted round to gaze up at him, unable to speak for a moment.

    'Well?' said Fergus. 'We deserve a break, don't we?'

    'We do.' She nodded helplessly. What had she done to deserve such a wonderful man? 'We definitely do.'

    'Could you get someone to run the shop?'

    Possibly, hopefully, maybe… maybe not… but what the hell, some offers were just too good to turn down.

    'If I can't find anyone, I'll close it for the week.' Oh God, a holiday was
so
what she needed right now. 'We can just relax and not worry about who's going to turn up and start causing trouble.' Kissing Fergus's lovely stubbly chin, Erin said, 'I love you. Thank you so much.'

    'Right, we're doing it. Name your destination. Marbella, Florence, Paris, Rome. You tell me where, and I'll book everything.'

    'Anywhere I like?'

    'Anywhere.'

    'I've always wanted to go to Gdansk.'

    'Really?'

    It was just another reason to love him. Erin grinned and kissed him again. 'No. But I've definitely always wanted to go to Venice.'

IT WAS FRIDAY EVENING and Max was taking Kaye to dinner with old friends in Bristol.

    'They're celebrating their wedding anniversary,' Max explained to Tilly as he pulled on his jacket. 'We got married around the same time.'

    Kaye was busy checking her tourmaline necklace in the living room mirror. 'Only Paula was lucky. Her husband didn't turn out to be gay.'

    'Maybe not, but he's bloody boring when he starts banging on about golf. If he so much as mentions a nine iron,' said Max, 'I swear to God I'll start singing show tunes.'

    Kaye said good-humoredly, 'You hate show tunes.'

    'I know, but if it gets on Terry's nerves, I'll do it. Right there in the restaurant. Up on the table if I have to.'

    'Embarrassing Terry is what he lives for,' Kaye told Tilly. 'Right, are we setting off now? Where's Lou?'

    'Noooo! Don't go before you've seen me!' Lou, clattering down stairs, landed with a thud in the hallway. 'Right, what about this?'

    It was her third outfit change in thirty minutes, in honor of to night's school disco. Having swapped jeans and a purple T-shirt for slightly different jeans and a blue cropped top, she was now wearing a grey and white striped T-shirt, grey jeans and Converse trainers.

    Well, a Year Nine disco was an important event.

    'You look lovely, sweetheart.' Kaye looked hopeful. 'But don't you want to wear a nice dress?'

    Lou looked appalled. 'Mum, of course I don't want to wear a nice dress! And I don't want to look lovely either. I just want to look like
me
.'

    Max said, 'In that case, you definitely look like you. I could pick you out of a police line-up, no problem. That one there, the one with all the red hair and the big zit on her chin, that's my girl.'

    'Ha ha, Dad. I don't have any zits. But does my hair look too big?' Crossing to the mirror and grabbing handfuls of curls, Lou said worriedly, 'Should I tie it back?'

    'You look just right. Ignore him.' Kaye gave her daughter a hug and a noisy kiss. 'Have a fabulous time tonight. Be good.'

    Lou rolled her eyes. 'I'm always good.'

    'No getting bladdered,' said Max.

    'Dad, this is the Year Nine disco. It's a choice of Pepsi, Diet Pepsi, or water.'

    'And no snogging.'

    'Dad,' Lou wailed. 'Shut
up
.'

    'I'm your father. It's my job to say embarrassing stuff. No bad dancing either, OK? If I hear you've been doing any of that hokey pokey malarkey—'

    'OK, stop now. We don't have the hokey-pokey at our discos because we're not
dinosaurs
. And the only person who dances badly in this family is you.'

    'Hear, hear.' Kaye threw the car keys over to Max. 'And we're going to be late if we don't set off now. Come on, Methuselah, let's go.'

    The timing was a minefield. Lou's disco ran from seven thirty to ten o'clock. But only tragic losers—obviously—were uncool enough to turn up at seven thirty. On the other hand, leave it too late and the evening would be over before you'd had a chance to relax and start enjoying yourself. Oh yes, making the perfect entrance at the exact right time was crucial. Following much frantic texting, the consensus among Lou's friends was that ten past eight was that optimum time.

    Which gave Lou long enough to discard her third outfit and instead change into the
first
pair of jeans, an olive green boat-neck T-shirt, silver flip-flops and a plaited green and silver leather belt.

    'Perfect.' Solemnly Tilly nodded; bless her, Lou was desperate to impress someone.

    'What about the earrings? Too dangly?'

    'They're perfect too.'

    'No… hang on.' Lou turned and galloped back up the stairs. Two minutes later she returned with medium sized sky-blue hoops in her ears. 'Is that better?'

    'Fine.' Bemused, Tilly said, 'Don't you have silver hoops?'

    'Yes, but then it all might look too coordinated, you know? As if I'm trying too hard.'

    'Oh right. In that case, definitely the blue ones.' Tilly just hoped Eddie Marshall-Hicks appreciated all the effort that went into not looking as if you were trying too hard.

    Lou checked her watch. 'Is it quarter to eight?'

    'Yep. Ready to go?'

    Deep breath. 'Do I look all right? Should I wear different shoes?'

    'If you change them, your belt won't have anything to go with.'

    'Then I'd be completely uncoordinated and that's no good. OK,' Lou made up her mind. 'I'm ready. Let's go.'

The key turned in the ignition and nothing happened.

Tilly tried again. The car still didn't start.

'Are you playing a trick on me?' said Lou.

    'No. Hang on, don't panic.' Inwardly panicking, Tilly took the key out and fitted it in again—hopefully
better
this time—then pumped the accelerator and gave it another go.

Still nothing.

Lou said, 'What's wrong with it?'

    Tilly flicked the bonnet switch under the dashboard and jumped out of the driver's seat. If she knew what was wrong, she'd be a me chanic, but there was just a smidgen of an outside chance it might be something screamingly obvious, like when you spent ages wonder ing why the hairdryer wouldn't work then discovered it was because you'd plugged the straightener in instead.

    Except, disappointingly, there were no unplugged hairdryers in the engine. Everything just looked grimy and oily and as incom prehensible as engines always did. With Lou at her side, hopping agitatedly from one flip-flop to the other, she gingerly tugged and poked at a few mysterious tube-type things.

    When she tried turning the key again, all she got was grimy oily fingermarks on the steering wheel.

    'I'm missing the disco.' Lou began to hyperventilate. 'It's already been going for twenty minutes.'

    Making a fashionably late entrance paled into insignificance compared with making no entrance at all.

    'Everyone's going to be having fun without me,' Lou wailed.

    'OK, go and get the Yellow Pages. Find the number of Bert's company and we'll call him. I'll keep trying here.'

    Lou raced into the house and Tilly tried polishing the ignition key with her T-shirt, just in case it made that all-important bit of differ ence. Well, you never knew, did you? Especially when it came to cars.

    When Lou reappeared she was clutching the Yellow Pages in one hand and the cordless phone in the other. 'Hello? Hi, Bert, this is Lou Dineen. Can you come and pick me up from home in, like, thirty seconds?'

    Tilly's heart went out to her when Lou's face fell.

    'No, that's no good. OK, thanks, bye.' Ending the call and thrusting the Yellow Pages on to Tilly's lap, she said, 'He's picking up a fare in Malmesbury. Can you find another number? Oh God, why does this have to happen to
me
?'

    Eight o'clock came and went. The line to the next taxi firm was engaged non-stop and the waiting time for the third was an hour and a half. Lou's friend Nesh had gone away with her parents for the weekend. In desperation, Tilly tried calling Erin but there was no reply and her mobile was switched off.

    'This is
so
unfair.' In a panic now, Lou began riffling through the Yellow Pages again. 'Does this count as an emergency? Would the police be cross with me if I dialed 999?'

    She was joking, but only just. The phone rang in Tilly's lap and she snatched it up, praying it was Erin returning her call. 'Hello?'

    It wasn't Erin.

    'Hi, it's me.' In the midst of all the panic, it was odd to hear Jack sounding so relaxed. 'I know I've missed Max, but can you pass on the message that the electrician's finishing off at Etloe Road tomor row morning, so he can get his crew in there after midday.'

    'Who's that?' Lou had found another cab number to try and was marking it with her finger.

    'Um… fine.' Distracted, Tilly said to Lou, 'It's not Erin.'

    'Get them off the phone then,' ordered Lou.