Rumor Has It Page 4

  Babs helped her drag the suitcases downstairs. Actually having to say good-bye to her was quite emotional; Babs might be the world's nosiest neighbor, but she meant well.

  Then it was Gavin's turn. Tilly dutifully gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek. 'Bye then.'

  'I messed up big time, didn't I?' He looked utterly dejected. 'I broke your heart and now I'm paying the price.'

  Tilly said bravely, 'We'll get over it.'

  'Ahem.' As Tilly climbed into the minicab that would take her to Paddington, Babs nudged Gavin and said, 'Aren't you going to give her the lilies?'

  Oh God, please no, they smelled awful, like the zoo.

  'Well, she probably wouldn't want to have to carry them on the train.' Since his ploy to win her back hadn't worked, Gavin was clearly reluctant to hand them over. 'And they cost twelve pounds fifty.' He took a hasty step back as Babs's eyes lit up in anticipation. 'So I think I'll just take them home and give them to my mum.'

  Was this how a shoplifter felt as they made their way around a store stealthily pocketing small items, nerve-janglingly aware that at any moment the tiniest slip-up could lead to them being caught out? Erin did her best to stay relaxed, to keep her breathing steady, but the terror showed no sign of loosening its grip; any minute now she could make that slip, give herself away.

  And to add insult to injury, she was in her own shop.

  Not trusting herself with the portable steamer in case her hands trembled too much, Erin busied herself with the computer and pre tended to be engrossed in a spreadsheet. Three feet away from her, riffling through a rail of tops, Stella Welch carried on chatting to her friend Amy through the door of the changing cubicle.

  'I saw Fergus again last night, by the way. Bumped into him in the Fox.'

  That's because you've been stalking him, thought Erin. You saw him going into the Fox, so you followed him inside.

  'How's he looking?' Amy's voice floated out of the cubicle above a vigorous rustle of clothes.

  'The truth? Pale.'

  It's February.

  'In fact, I told him he could do with a few sessions on the tanning bed.' Stella flicked back her tawny hair, held a pomegranate-pink silk shirt up against herself, and surveyed her reflection in the mirror. 'Does this color suit me? It does, doesn't it?'

  'It looks great.' Erin nodded, because the color was perfect against Stella's permatanned skin.

  'I also told him he was a bastard.' Stella seamlessly continued her conversation with Amy. 'I can't believe it's been six months since he left. I mean, why would anyone in their right mind want to leave me? What did I ever do wrong? It's not even as if Fergus is amazing looking! I so don't deserve to be treated like this. Eleven years of mar riage and then he ups and goes, out of the blue. He was lucky to get me in the first place, for God's sake. Some men are just… deluded!'

  'Did you tell him that?' said Amy.

  'Only about a million times. God, he just makes me so mad. I asked him last night if he was seeing someone else but he still says he isn't. He'd better not be, that's all I can say. Oh yes, that's perfect on you.'

  The changing room door had opened. Amy did a twirl in the midnight-blue Nicole Farhi dress. 'Not too over the top for a first date? I was wondering if I should play it cool and just wear jeans and a little top, but what if I do that and he thinks it means I don't like him?'

  'Can't risk that. Go for it,' Stella pronounced. 'Get the dress.' She turned to Erin and said, 'Amy's being taken out to dinner tonight. By Jack Lucas.'

  'Gosh. Lovely.'

  'I'm so nervous!' Amy's eyes sparkled as she did an excited twirl in front of the mirror. 'I won't be able to eat a thing! I can't believe it's actually happening!'

  Erin couldn't think why she couldn't believe it; when you'd been out with as many girls as Jack Lucas had, it was hard to find someone who hadn't been one of his conquests. In fact she, Erin, was practically the only female she knew who hadn't been there, done that. Then again, she'd never been tempted; it was far more entertaining to stand back and let all the other girls do their moths around-a-flame thing, and to watch them crash and burn.

  For the female inhabitants of Roxborough, it was practically their number-one pastime.

  'I'll take it,' said Amy, dancing back into the cubicle to change out of the dress.

  'See, if Fergus looked like Jack Lucas, I could understand him doing what he's done.' Stella shook her head in disbelief as she draped a pale turquoise scarf experimentally around her neck. 'But how does he have the nerve to do it when he looks like Fergus?'

  'Maybe he'll change his mind and come crawling back,' Amy offered.

  'That's what I've been waiting for! But it's been six months now and he still hasn't! You go to the Fox sometimes, don't you?'

  Her skin prickling, Erin realized this question was being directed at her. Unwillingly, she looked up from the computer screen. 'Sometimes.'

  'Have you heard any rumors about my husband? Any gossip, any signs that he's seeing another woman?'

  Erin's mouth was dry. 'No. No, I don't think so.'

  Stella's immaculately shaped eyebrows rose slightly. 'You don't think so?'

  'I mean no, definitely, no signs, nothing.'

  Stella gave a nod of satisfaction. 'He'd better not be. For God's sake, he's trying to ruin my life. I deserve so much more than to be treated like this. Talk about selfish. I mean, how old are you, Erin?'

  What? Why? For a moment Erin's own age escaped her.

  'Thirty-three?' Stella hazarded. 'Thirty-five?'

  Ouch.

  'Actually I'm twenty-eight,' said Erin.

  'Oh. I thought you were older than that. And I know I look young for my age but I'm thirty-seven. Thirtyseven! We were supposed to be starting a family this year, and my husband's had some kind of bizarre mental breakdown and buggered off instead. Meanwhile my fertility is declining. Ooh, it just makes me so mad. There should be a law against men being allowed to do this to women.'

  'Quick, I didn't realize it was nearly two o'clock.' Bursting out of the cubicle, Amy frantically waved the Nicole Farhi dress at Erin and scrabbled for her credit card. 'I've got an appointment at the hairdresser's in five minutes. Can't meet Jack Lucas tonight without having my roots touched up!'

  Two minutes later they were gone. Erin could breathe again. Breathe, but not relax, because the dilemma currently tearing her in two was still inescapably there.

  Fergus was the best thing that had happened to her in years; he was the light of her life. Currently, he was the first thing she thought of when she woke up in the morning and the last thing she thought of at night.

  But nothing was ever simple, was it? Because Fergus had spent the last eleven years being married to Stella, and although he was now desperate to put those years behind him and divorce her, Stella was digging her heels in, still unable to grasp the concept that he might not change his mind and go back to her.

  The irony was that although she had known them both for years, ever since she'd moved back to Roxborough, in all that time Erin had never, not even once, secretly lusted after Fergus. He'd always been a lovely, friendly person, and he and Stella had always been generally regarded as something of a mismatched couple, but even the news of their separation hadn't caused Erin's heart to give a secret leap of hope. With his messy, unstyled dark hair, merry eyes, large feet, and eternal struggle to dress smartly, Fergus Welch was simply a lovely person to know.

  Which had only made it all the more surprising when, just six weeks ago, they had bumped into each other and whoosh, out of nowhere the spark had ignited. So completely unexpectedly that it made you wonder who might suddenly become inexplicably irresist ible next. John Prescott? Robbie Coltrane? Johnny Vegas?

  Oh no, poor Fergus, not that he looked like any of them. Erin hastily blocked that thought from her mind. But still, who would have thought that her feelings towards Fergus could have changed so dramatically in the space of… crikey, what had it been? A couple of hours?

 
And just think, if it hadn't been raining that day, it would never have happened.

  Although to call it raining was an understatement. It had been a full-on thunderstorm, with rain hammering down like bullets from an iron-grey sky. It was also undoubtedly what had inspired the bored teenagers to run around the car park flipping up the wind screen wipers of an entire row of cars.

  Erin's Fiat, sadly, had been the oldest in the row and her windscreen wipers the most fragile. When she emerged from the supermarket on the outskirts of Cirencester and got soaked to the skin unloading her bags of shopping, she didn't immediately realize what had happened. When she leapt into the driver's seat and switched on the ignition and wipers, she couldn't work out why they weren't working. It wasn't until she climbed back out of the car that she found the wipers on the ground. A posh middle-aged woman in a nearby 4x4 unwound her window a couple of inches and bellowed, 'I saw 'em doing it, little sods. Gave 'em an earful and they ran orf. Bloody hoody types. String 'em up, that's what I say. Set the hounds on 'em!'

  Which was all well and good, but it didn't exactly solve the problem to hand. Erin, her hair plastered to her head and her clothes clinging like papier mâché to her body, gazed in dismay at the snapped-off windscreen wipers. Driving the car would be impossible in this downpour, like wearing a blindfold. She was stuck here ten miles from home until the rain stopped, and in the meantime her three tubs of Marshfield Farm ice cream were going to melt all over the—

  'Erin! What happened, did someone superglue your feet to the ground? Stand there for much longer and you might get wet!'

  Turning, Erin squinted and saw Fergus Welch hurrying towards her across the car park, holding a half-broken golfing umbrella over his head, and waving his key at a dark green Lexus parked not far from hers. Possibly wary of setting off the alarm, the teenagers had left his car alone. As he slowed, Erin held up the amputated wipers. Fixing cars wasn't her forte, but maybe Fergus would know some way to tie them back on.

  'Oh no.' His forehead creased with concern. 'Vandals?'

  'Well, I didn't do it myself.' Rain dripped off Erin's eyelashes and nose. 'And from the look of the sky, I'm going to be stuck here for hours yet. It's Monday, my precious day off—what could be nicer than this?'

  'Hey, no problem, I can give you a lift home.' Indicating his car, Fergus said, 'Hop in, I've got an appointment in Tetbury but that won't take long. Then I'm heading straight back to the office.'

  'Really?' Erin's shoulders sagged with gratitude. 'I've got a load of food in the boot.'

  'Come on then, let's shift it into mine. Then if we get marooned in a flood, we won't starve. And if it stops raining this evening, I can drop you back here… oh, I say, honeycomb ice cream. That's my all-time favorite.'

  They transferred the bags of food and Fergus, struggling to close his half-broken umbrella, completely broke it and ended up chuck ing it into a nearby bin. Then he held open the passenger door of the Lexus with a flourish.

  'Are you sure you want me on your seats?' By this stage Erin couldn't have been wetter if she'd just climbed out of a swimming pool.

  'Hey, don't worry. I'll be demanding payment in ice cream.'

  And that was how it had started. The rain had brought them together. She'd waited in the car whilst Fergus had shown a client around a house in Tetbury, then he'd driven her back to Roxborough and, because it was still raining, had helped to carry her bags into the flat. Then Erin had made coffee and they'd shared the entire tub of honeycomb ice cream—semi-melted by now, but still delicious.

  They didn't leap on each other, ripping each other's clothes off in an unstoppable frenzy of lust. Of course they didn't do that. But without a word being said, each of them silently acknowledged that… well, they'd quite like to.

  Stella was a major stumbling block.

  'She's spent the last eleven years telling me I don't deserve her, that she's better than me,' said Fergus as Erin made another pot of coffee. 'She told me a million times she was out of my league. I thought she'd be thrilled when I moved out. But she's taking it so badly. I wasn't expecting this to happen at all.'

  'Do you think you'll get back together?' Erin did her best to sound impartial.

  'No, never. It's over.' Fergus shook his head and sat back, combing his fingers through his unruly, still-damp hair. 'I've put up with Stella's attitude for years. She doesn't love me, she's just outraged that I had the nerve to leave. My nephew's too old for his Teletubbies,' he went on dryly, 'but you should have heard the screams when my sister tried to pack them off to the charity shop. He wrestled her for them and yelled that he'd still love the Teletubbies when he was fifty.'

  Erin hoped Stella wouldn't still be clinging on to Fergus when she was fifty. Then she felt a twinge of guilt because Stella was his wife.

  'Maybe she'll meet someone else,' Erin said hopefully.

  Fergus nodded in agreement. 'That's what I'm hoping. In fact I'm thinking of writing begging letters to Ewan McGregor and Hugh Grant.'

  Fergus had had to head back to the office after that. He worked as a senior negotiator at Thornton and Best, the estate agents at the top of the High Street. Later that evening, he'd given Erin a lift back to her car and the evening had ended with her planting a careful thank-you kiss on his cheek. Perfectly chaste and innocent on the surface but seething with longing and less-than-innocent possibili ties underneath.

  Erin was jolted back to the present by the phone shrilling on the desk in front of her. Since that night, she and Fergus had carried on secretly meeting up and the chastity aspect wasn't set to last for much longer; she was besotted with Fergus and, blissfully, he appeared to be just as—

  OK, enough, no more daydreaming about lovely Fergus. Answer the phone.

  Ooh, it might even be Fergus!

  'Hello? Erin's Beautiful Clothes.'

  'Hey, you!'

  It was Tilly's voice. Not quite Fergus, but nearly as good. Erin said happily, 'Hi, how's everything going?'

  'Oh, you know. Are you busy or can you talk?'

  'It's OK, the shop's empty, I can talk.'

  'Great. Hang on a sec.'

  Erin's heart sank as the bell jangled above the door, heralding the arrival of another customer just when she'd been about to settle down for a good chat. Then her head jerked up and her mouth fell open because there, standing in the doorway, was…

  'Tilly! What's going on?'

  Tilly flung her arms wide. 'Surprise!'

  'Surprise? You nearly gave me a heart attack! I thought you were calling from London! Why didn't you tell me you were coming down?'

  'I can see I'm going to have to explain some basic rules about surprises. They kind of work better if they happen without warning.' Her eyes dancing, Tilly said, 'And this isn't a visit.'

  'It isn't? What is it, then?' Erin was by this time thoroughly confused; Tilly didn't even have an overnight bag with her.

  'You said I'd like it here. Well, you'd better be right,' said Tilly, 'because I've done it: I live here now. As of today.'

  'What? Where? Where are you living?'

  'Beech House. I'm working as a Girl Friday for Max Dineen.'

  Erin sat bolt upright. 'Dineen! Max Dineen who was married to Kaye? Daughter with red hair called…'

  'Lou. That's right.'

  Astonished, Erin said, 'Wow.'

  'I know! And we really get on well.' Tilly pulled a face. 'Please don't tell me he's a raving psychopath.'

  'Don't worry, everyone likes Max. And Lou's a cutie; she used to come in here with Kaye and eat—'

  'Strawberry sweets. She told me about that. And now I'm living here, in their house! Wait until I go to the Fox and tell grumpy Declan. He won't believe it!'

  'I can't believe it.' Erin shook her head, still in a daze.

  'I know, isn't it great? New job, new home, whole new life! And on my evenings off, we'll be able to go out together!'

  At that moment the door opened again and more customers drifted in. It occurred to Erin that with
its usual unerring sense of timing, fate had managed to get it wrong again. All these years without a relationship and now Tilly had turned up. Maybe this was God's way of telling her she wasn't cut out to be a lying, deceitful, husband-stealing bitch.

  'What? What's wrong?' said Tilly.

  'Nothing.' Erin gave her a hug. 'I'm just glad you're here.' As she said it, the other customers began pulling dresses off the rails and posing in front of each other. It probably wasn't the best time to be confiding in Tilly about her top-secret budding romance with Fergus.

  Chapter 6