Rumor Has It (26 page)

    'What was it?'

    'A horrible note he'd stuck on my back. Don't ask me to tell you what it said.'

    'Oh sweetheart.' Max exhaled slowly. 'What have I put you through?'

    'Dad, this isn't your fault. You're
you
.'

    So much for thinking that being honest and open about their situation had worked out well. Max now wished with all his heart he'd simply carried on living a lie. The fact that everyone in Roxborough had been fine about it—to his face, at least—had lulled him into a false sense of security. His big mistake had been believing Lou when she'd told him everyone
she
knew had been fine about it too.

    'I'm not ashamed of you.' As if reading his mind, she said fiercely, 'I'm
proud
.'

    Oh shit, now she'd stopped crying and he was in danger of breaking down completely. What had he ever done to deserve a daughter like this?

    'Is it just the one guy?' Max's tone was gruff. 'Or more?'

    Lou hesitated for a moment. 'More. But Eddie's the worst.'

    'What about the girls?'

    She shrugged. 'Sometimes they'll laugh at something he says. But they're pretty much OK.'

    'Do you want to switch schools?'

    'No.' Shaking her head and hugging him, Lou said, 'Who's to say any other school would be different? You're always going to get idiots who are too ignorant to know better.'

    'If you ever want to leave, you can. I mean that.'

    She pulled a face. 'I might
have
to leave. We don't know yet. I could be out on my ear by next week.'

    'I'll make sure that doesn't happen. After what that little bas tard's been putting you through? No way. I'm going to meet up with Mrs Heron tomorrow.' Max gazed at Lou intently. 'One way or another, we'll sort this out.'

THE THING ABOUT FANCYING someone rotten was it made you want to make more of an effort with your appearance so when you bumped into them you could at least relax in the knowledge that you were looking great.

    Not just with the help of makeup either. Clothes too. Even down to and including the underwear. Tilly knew how completely illogi cal this was, but still found herself doing it anyway. Instead of just chucking on any old bra and panties, she was choosing, well, not her
best
ones, but the really quite good kind that you wouldn't be embar rassed to be seen in. Similarly, she was wearing nicer clothes, taking more care with her hair and makeup, and had upped her leg-shaving rate from once-a-fortnight-if-you're-lucky to twice a week.

    At first she'd tried to pretend it wasn't happening.

    Then she admitted it was happening and pretended she was doing it for herself.

    When Max noticed and started teasing, she told him it was because she'd felt so scruffy compared with Tandy and all her glossy, high-maintenance WAG friends.

    But really Tilly knew it was all for Jack's benefit.

    Which just made the fact that she hadn't clapped eyes on him for the last fortnight all the more infuriating. Every day she'd subtly done herself up, and every damn day he hadn't
shown
up.

    All in all, it had been a total waste of matching underwear and mascara.

    She didn't even know where he was. Max was going full steam ahead with the Tandy and Jamie refurb. Maybe Jack was away on holiday somewhere. He could have met and fallen for a girl who was occupying all his time. The more Tilly considered this option, the sicker she felt. Or maybe he was just super-busy building up his property empire… yes, that was an easier prospect to handle. Oh God, she was turning into Stella. Was this how the madness took hold, a creeping vine of jealousy stealthily reaching up and up until it tightened around your neck?

    'Yeek!' Lou dodged out of the way as Tilly, not concentrating on the task in hand, accidentally sprayed her with the hose.

    'Sorry, sorry.' But it was a hot day, the warmest of the year so far, so Tilly wasn't too apologetic. Playfully she sprayed her again. Lou danced sideways, spluttering and squealing then darting out of sight behind the garage.

    Amused, Tilly carried on washing and rinsing the car. Any minute now, Lou would race back and attempt to turn the hose on her, but she'd be ready and waiting, and Lou wouldn't get a chance to seize control. Before long, she heard stealthy footsteps on the gravel behind her and gripped the hose tightly. OK, this was it, this time she was going to really soak her from head to—

    'WAAAHHH!' Tilly let out a shriek as a torrent of ice-cold water almost knocked her off her feet. Staggering backwards, she turned and realized, too late, that Lou had flung only half the contents of the bucket at her back.
Whoosh
, the rest of the water hit its target, drenching the front of her T-shirt, her jeans and her hair.

    'Right, that's it. You're in big trouble now.' Blinking water out of her eyes and shaking herself like a dog, Tilly turned the nozzle on the hose from medium-fine spray to superjet. Clutching the gun in both hands and taking aim Clint Eastwood style, she prepared to squeeze the trigger. 'You're going to wish you hadn't done that.'

    'Help! Child abuse!' Shrieking with laughter as an icy jet hit her in the leg, Lou yelped, 'Someone ring Childline!'

    'Do I win?' Tilly aimed at the other leg.

    'No way! Look, somebody's coming. Now you're the one in trouble.' Lou pointed exaggeratedly behind Tilly, urging her to turn round. 'It's Esther Rantzen, she's come to arrest you.'

    'Yeah yeah.' What did Lou think she was, five years old? 'Of course I'm going to look behind me so you can grab the hose, because I'm
that
gullible.'

    Lou, hopping from foot to foot, waved her arms at the imaginary rescuer and cried piteously, 'Help, help!'

    Having shaken the water out of her ears, Tilly belatedly heard the sound of wheels on gravel and realized Lou hadn't been bluffing after all. Although it hopefully wasn't Esther Rantzen. Keeping Lou covered, knees bent and arms outstretched as she maintained a firm grip on the gun, Tilly slowly turned her head.

    Oh sodding buggering
poo.

    Did other people actually get through their lives without having this kind of thing happen to them?

    'Jack, help me, Tilly's being
cruuuuel
…'

    Tilly blasted one last jet of water at Lou before releasing the trigger. Jack, emerging from his car, came towards them holding his arms aloft in surrender.

    Thirteen whole days of mascara, foundation, lipstick, coordi nated clothes, nice knickers, leg-razoring and scent squishing. All for nothing. And now this.
Now
he had to turn up.

    Nothing like being seen looking your very best.

    And this was
nothing
like her very best.

    Whereas Jack, it went without saying, was looking tanned and fit and heart-squeezingly gorgeous.

    'It's OK. I've stopped being cruel now.' Had he been abroad? He must have been away, to get so tanned. Had he taken anyone with him? Had they had a fantastic time? How about fantastic sex? Oh God, she was doing that Stella thing again. Stop it, stop it,
get a grip.

    'Glad to hear it.' He indicated the Jag. 'You can clean my car next if you like. Max not home yet?'

    'He's over at Jamie Michaels' place. They're having a dolphin fountain put in.'

    'Right. Well, my chainsaw's buggered so I've come over to borrow his. Do you know if it's in the garage?'

    'Yeugh, my trousers feel gross.' Pulling a face and emptying her trainers, Lou said, 'I'm going to get changed.'

    When she'd squelched off into the house, Tilly led the way over to the double garage. 'What's the chainsaw for? Chopping up troublesome tenants?'

    'Can't say I'm not tempted sometimes,' said Jack. 'That's the downside of being a landlord: they expect you to do all their dirty work for them. I've got a couple of trees to take down and some branches to trim back.'

    It was no good, she had to ask. 'Been away on holiday?'

    'No. Why, have you missed me?'

    'Just wondered. You're tanned.'

    'I've been working outside for the last few days, clearing the gardens of people too bone idle to do it themselves. So you were wondering why I hadn't been around? That's encouraging.'

    Honestly, did he have to say things like that? Having lifted the garage door, Tilly surveyed the boxes piled against the walls. 'OK, let's look for the chainsaw.'

    'In fact, it's what I was hoping,' Jack went on.

    
What?

    'In
fact
,' he amended, 'I stayed away on purpose.'

    OK, she couldn't just stand here like a sopping wet village idiot. Her pulse racing, Tilly said, 'Why?'

    'To see if it made a difference.'

Her mouth was dry. 'And?'

There was that look again. 'I think we can both guess, can't we?'

    Oh God. If he kissed her now, Lou would be bound to reappear, bouncing into the garage like Tigger on springs.

    'At least, I know how I feel,' said Jack. 'It might be different for you.'

    But since he wasn't stupid, he couldn't really think that. The chemistry between them was inescapable; there was a crackling elec tricity in the air that only a turnip could miss.

    Or a thirteen-year-old girl with powerful quick-change skills.

    'Honestly, haven't you found it yet?' Lou, now wearing a dry T-shirt and frayed denim shorts, shook her head in disbelief and pointed to the box containing the chainsaw. Tut-tutting, she said, 'It's right there, behind the lawnmower. You're both blind as bats.'

    For a split second Jack and Tilly's eyes met, then Jack crossed the garage and lifted out the chainsaw. He turned to Lou and held it up. 'Want me to cut your hair while I'm here?'

    'No way. We're going up to Auntie Sarah's wedding this weekend.' Lou darted out of the way as he took a step towards her. 'I don't want to look like a scarecrow.'

    'Sarah's wedding? In Scotland?'

    Tilly nodded; Sarah was Max's cousin and on Saturday she was getting married in Glasgow. Max, Lou, and Kaye were flying up there on Friday afternoon for a weekend of epic celebrations, Glaswegian style. In honor of the occasion, Lou would even be wearing a dress.

    Was Jack thinking what she hoped he was thinking?

    Happily, yes. When he'd finished putting the chainsaw in the boot of the Jag, he waited until Lou was out of earshot then beck oned Tilly over.

    She kept a neutral I-have
no
-idea-what-you're-about-to-say ex pression on her face. Well, tried to. Inwardly, she felt gorgeous and desirable, like a goddess.

'So, are they leaving you here on your own?'

'Mm.' Goddess-like, Tilly nodded.

    'Well, if you don't have any other plans, how about I pick you up on Friday? Around eight?'

    This was it. He meant business. Things were going to start hap pening at last. If Lou hadn't been behind them, finishing cleaning the car, she would have kissed him. She wanted to, so much. Well, not long to wait now. Only two days.

    She gave him a tiny, goddessy smile. 'OK.'

    'Deal.' Jack smiled too.

    He waved to Lou as he drove off. Lou waved back then turned to look at Tilly.

    'Don't soak me again.' Tilly raised her hands in surrender.

    'I won't. Sorry about your face, by the way.'

    'Why? What's wrong with my face?'

    Lou shrugged apologetically. 'It's a bit… you know.'

    Oh bum. Peering into the car's wing mirror at her reflection, Tilly no longer felt like a goddess.

    'I didn't mean it to happen,' said Lou. 'I just found the bucket of water under the garden tap. I didn't realize the bottom of it was full of gunk and mud.'

IF JACK HADN'T MINDED her looking like the creature from the black lagoon, the chances were that he wouldn't be too bothered whether she wore her silver-grey top or the navy one.

    But it mattered to Tilly. A lot. She wanted to look her best. After so many weeks of prevarication and wondering if she would be making a horrendous mistake, she knew that this evening things were finally going to… well, happen.

    Her heart did a swallow-dive just thinking about it. But you could only deny your true feelings for so long. Jack knew it too, didn't he? And he had been the one to instigate it. Tonight, every thing would change. Their relationship would move to a new level. Now, at last, she truly trusted him. This wasn't yet another of his meaningless flings. There were feelings, real feelings involved. He had finally discovered that time does heal and that when you meet the next right person it's possible to move on.

    OK, too much thinking about it was getting her all jittery with anticipation, and jitters could only result in badly applied mascara. Deliberately clearing her mind and taking deep breaths, Tilly fin ished toweling her hair dry and said, 'What d'you reckon, Betty? Grey top or blue?'

    Betty, lying on the bed with her nose resting on her front paws, raised a bored whiskery eyebrow then lowered it again.

    'OK, sorry, not your problem. I'll wear the grey.' Hastily, Tilly held the grey top up against herself. 'No, the blue.' Her eye was drawn to the clothes hanging in the wardrobe. 'Or my white shirt.'