Rumor Has It (34 page)

    'You know what? I'd noticed.'

    'It was so great, that time when Lou punched him. Anyway, we're not all like Eddie. I think you're OK.'

    Max grinned. 'And guess what? You're absolutely right.'

    When the girl had rejoined her friends, Tom Lewis raised a hand to stop Josie Endell in mid-flirt and said to Max, 'Are you all right? Want me to have a word with him?'

    'No thanks, I'm fine.' Max shook his head briefly and signaled to the pretty waitress for another coffee. Bringing it, her gaze slid with sultry appreciation over the PE teacher's solid, super-trained body. Tom Lewis, wearing an open-necked khaki shirt and black jeans, exuded virility and fitness to a terrifying degree that women clearly found irresistible.

    '
Non, merci
.' Tom shook his sleek head when she asked if he'd like anything too, and Josie Endell, possibly without even realizing it, gave the waitress a possessive hands-off-he's-mine smile.

    Max finished stirring sugar into his coffee. Was it Superman who was the one with the X-ray vision, who could look at people and see right through their clothes? Because this was how he felt right now, being the only one who knew without a shadow of a doubt that Josie was wasting her time.

    No two ways about it. Gaydar was a wonderful thing.

CLIMBING ON TO THE coach the next morning, Max could almost sympathize with the children. When you were thirteen or fourteen and there was a Disneyland in the vicinity, it wasn't easy to get excited about the fact that you were having to visit the Palace of Versailles instead.

    Oh well, that was school trips for you. Whoever said they were supposed to be fun? And this one was about to get worse for Eddie Marshall-Hicks.

    'Right, I'm sitting back here today. You'—Max indicated Baz— 'can move up to the front and show Mrs Trent what a charming conversationalist you can be.'

    'Eh?' Mouth gormlessly open, Baz gazed up at him.

    'And I'm going to sit right here, next to Poison Eddie.'

    Eddie bristled. 'What? Why? I don't want you sitting next to me!'

    'Sorry, this is your punishment for all those witty comments yesterday. And I'm the parent helper, so you have to do as I say.'

    The girl from last night, whose name he now knew to be Saskia, crowed, 'Yay, Sir Max! Way to go!'

    Baz and Eddie looked at each other in disgust. Like an irritated gorilla, Baz hauled himself out of his seat and clumped up to the front of the coach. Fenella had a treat in store.

    Out of the corner of his eye, Max glimpsed Lou's anxious face over the top of the row of seats ahead of him. She could cope with Eddie in her own way but wasn't at all happy about her father—the root of all the trouble—wading in and getting involved.

    Max ignored her and sat down. If he'd had a plan to win Eddie round with his warmth, wit, and generally irresistible personality, well, he now knew that wasn't going to work. Especially not in three days.

    So, Plan B was definitely preferable. But Plan B relied rather heavily on divine intervention, involving as it did some kind of ter rible accident requiring Eddie to find himself in mortal danger and Max, swooping heroically to the rescue, to save his life.

    And the chances of that happening, it had to be said, were slim.

    Which meant he was going to have to go with Plan C. Max wasn't proud of himself, but sometimes you just had to make the best use you could of what you had. The tactics might be underhand, but if they worked, well, who gave a toss?

    Eddie, meanwhile, had ostentatiously shifted across in his seat until he was hunched against the window.

    'So, looking forward to Versailles?'

    Could an eyebrow sneer? Eddie's appeared to be managing it. 'No.'

    'It's pretty spectacular, you know.'

    'If chandeliers and mirrors and fancy curtains are your thing.' Turning to stare pointedly out of the window, Eddie said, 'They're not mine.'

    'Well, that's my job. Did Lou tell you I'm an interior designer?'

    Eddie snorted. 'What a surprise.'

    'Yes, well. It's not a bad career. You get to meet some inter esting people.'

    More sarcasm. "Yeah, right."

    Max shrugged and unfolded yesterday's newspaper. As the coach rolled out of the hotel's courtyard, he made a start on the crossword.

    Twenty silent minutes later, he took out his mobile and rang home.

    'Tilly? Hi, sweetheart, it's me. Listen, did the lads finish tiling that bathroom floor last night?'

    'They finished at ten o'clock,' said Tilly. 'How's everything going with you?'

    'Oh, fine. We're all getting on together really well.' Max grinned. 'Everyone loves me to bits.'

    Next to him, Eddie heaved a sigh of you're-so-funny irritation.

    'Now I know you're lying,' Tilly said cheerfully.

    'Thanks. Anyway, about the bathroom. Jamie's happy with it, is he?' Lowering his voice slightly, Max went on, 'And Tandy?'

    Eddie abruptly stopped picking at the loose threads on the knee of his ripped jeans.

    'They're over the moon. When Tandy saw it, she cried.'

    'Tandy cried? God, that girl's soft in the head. When she sees the bill for the finished job, that's when she'll want to start crying.'

    'Except they've covered their costs, remember?'

    Max chuckled. 'God bless
Hi!
magazine. Anyway, we'll be at Versailles in a minute, so I'll leave you to it. Give me a call if there are any problems.'

    'God, poor you, I can't think of anything more boring.'

    Max said, 'I know. Don't tell Jamie; he'll be as sick as a parrot. OK, speak to you later. Bye.'

    He put away his phone. Eddie carried on gazing out of the window, his profile as chiseled and perfect as a Rodin statue.

    Max returned his attention to the crossword. Bloody stupid crosswords, he hated the damn things. What were they
for
, exactly? What was the point of using up precious brain cells, just so you could fit stupid letters into squares? And speaking of stupid and pointless, was Eddie
ever
going to say anything or was he just going to keep staring out of that damn—

    'So, what was that about then?'

    Yee-ha! Bait taken!

    'Hmm? Sorry?' Max glanced up from the paper, peered at him over the rim of his spectacles. 'Oh, just keeping in touch with my assistant. Making sure the clients are happy.'

    'Right.' Eddie gave a dismissive shrug in agreement. But this time you could almost feel the curiosity burning through his Led Zeppelin T-shirt. 'So… who are they, then?'

    Because that was the great thing about Jamie and Tandy: their names, together, were recognizable. They were all set to be the new Posh and Becks, the new Wayne and Coleen—well, they were if Tandy got her way.

    'I'm not meant to talk about my clients.' Max hesitated then said reluctantly, 'It's just a footballer and his girlfriend.'

    Eddie was staring at him now. 'Jamie Michaels and his girlfriend? Serious, is that who you're working for?'

    'Sshh. Don't tell everyone.'

    'Bloody hell. And you've actually met them? Like, properly?'

    'Of course I've met them.'

    'But, Jamie Michaels isn't… you know,
gay
.'

    'No, he isn't.' Max marveled at the workings of a fourteen-year old's mind. 'I did his friend's house last year, and his friend recom mended me to Jamie and Tandy.'

    'Who was his friend?'

    'Colin, was it?' Frowning as if trying to remember, Max said, 'No, Cal, that's the one. Cal Cavanagh.'

    Eddie sat bolt upright and shouted, 'You are joking! Cal
Cavanagh
!'

    'Will you keep your voice down?'

    'But… but he's, like, the most genius footballer on the planet.'

    'Is he? I don't know a lot about football. Lucky old Cal.'

    Eddie's eyes narrowed. He was visibly hyperventilating. 'Is this a wind-up?'

    Max shrugged and said, 'Why would it be a wind-up?'

    Finally convinced, Eddie leaned his head against the padded

velour seat back. 'That is so amazing. You have no idea. Cal Cavanagh and Jamie Michaels play for the best team in the world and you actu ally
know
them. Any minute now, your phone could ring and it could be them on the other end. That's the team I support, you know. Ever since I was a little kid. I was wearing the shirt yesterday.'

    Max knew that, although it had taken awhile to twig. He hadn't been lying about football not being his thing.

    'I can't believe it,' Eddie went on. 'All this time and Lou never said anything.'

    'She's not interested in football either.'

    'So, Cal Cavanagh. Does he live in, like, a huge mansion?'

    Max nodded. 'Pretty huge. Electric gates. Eight bedrooms, nine bathrooms, a billiards room, and an indoor pool with the names Cal and Nicole spelled out in gold tiles on the bottom of the pool.' They were reaching the entrance to the park of Versailles now.

    'Cal and
Nicole
?' Eddie's eyes widened. 'But they broke up six months ago. He chucked her!'

    Max nodded briefly. 'I know. I told him those gold tiles were a mistake.'

On Saturday evening, they ate outside in the courtyard of the hotel. An almost-full moon hung in a clear, starry sky and the scents of bougainvillea, garlic, and Gauloises mingled with those of Year Nine, Harleston Hall—a rather less exotic blend of adolescents and overheated trainers.

    As the children let off steam, playing pétanque against teams of French teenagers, Max and Fenella Trent sat at a long trestle table with Tom Lewis and Josie Endell. The conversation had been about Versailles for long enough. Topping up his and Josie's wine glasses, Max had finally managed to swing it around—via Sophia Coppola's lush version of
Marie Antoinette
—to favorite films.

    '
It's a Wonderful Life
!' Fenella's glossy hair swung from side to side as she excitedly clapped her hands. Bloody hell, and she was only on orange juice. 'Ooh,
Follow the Fleet
! Or
Top Hat
! Anything with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers!' Clasping her chest in ecstasy, she cried, 'I could watch them
forever
.'

    Blimey, how old was she? Ninety?

    'I won't be inviting you out to the pictures, then.' In his easy, laconic way, Tom Lewis leaned back on his chair and counted off on his fingers. 'OK, top three.
Terminator
.
Gladiator
.
Rambo
.'

    Josie Endell gave him a playful thump on the arm. 'You and your testosterone. Honestly, you are such a
boy
.'

    For a split second Max caught Tom's eye and something un spoken passed between them. Tom knew that he knew. The silent acknowledgement was there. Then the moment passed and Tom shrugged. 'What's wrong with that? They're the kind of films I like to watch.'

    'Audrey Hepburn!' squealed Fenella.

    Max kept a straight face. 'Was she in
Rambo
?'

    'No, silly!
Breakfast at Tiffany's
!'

    Josie said comfortably, 'Boys like boys' films, girls go for girly ones. My favorites are
Love, Actually
and
When Harry Met Sally
. Can't beat a good old romantic comedy.' Dimpling, she addressed Tom. 'And I bet Claudine's the same, isn't she?'

    Claudine, that was it. Max recalled Lou telling him about Mr Lewis's seriously attractive girlfriend. The question was, did Claudine know her boyfriend was gay?

    'God, yes, all that girly stuff.' Tom took a glug of lager and wiped the condensation from his hand on to his jeans. 'She watches her films while I'm out training. I watch mine while she's buying handbags or getting her hair done. There's only one film we both like, and that's
The Great Escape
.' He looked at Max and said cheer fully, 'How about you?'

    'Well, I'm afraid I'm a bit of a purist when it comes to the cinema. Black and white with subtitles for me. Fassbinder,' said Max. 'Wenders, Almodóvar, Truffaut.' He paused, nodding in a thought ful, intellectual way. 'But I suppose if I'm forced to narrow it down, I'd have to say my top three would be
Borat
,
Mr Bean
, and
ET
.'

    Tom grinned. Josie clutched at Tom's wrist and shrieked with laughter. Eddie and Baz, who had been hovering a short distance away, moved closer. Fenella gave Max a sympathetic look. 'And they're all outsiders seeking acceptance, aren't they? Is that why they're your favorite films, because you identify with the lead characters?'

    'No, they're my favorite films because they make me laugh,' said Max. 'Same as you liking
Breakfast at Tiffany's
doesn't mean you secretly want to become a prostitute.'

    Sniggering under their breath, Eddie and Baz casually pulled up a couple of chairs and joined them at the table. '
Mr Bean
's funny,' Eddie ventured. 'He's hilarious. Have you seen the one where he's a spy?'

    'I like that one too.' Max nodded.

    Baz said eagerly, 'And
Alien
, sir? Where they're on a spaceship in outer space and this, like,
alien
bursts out of this guy's stomach?'

    'Goodness me!' Clearly shocked, Fenella said, 'I can't believe your parents allow you to watch films like that.'