Rumor Has It Page 9

  Then Tilly straightened up and focused more intently as Lou turned and said something to the boy behind her, clearly replying to some remark he'd just made. The boy, tall and lanky, was grinning and carrying a tennis racquet. As Lou swung round, one of the train ers fell out of her backpack and with lightning reflexes he reached down with his racquet, scooped it up and batted it high into the air. Even from this distance Tilly could see the look Lou shot him as her trainer landed in a hedge. Shaking her head in disgust, she stalked past him and retrieved it. Laughing, the boy said something else and Lou tossed back her hair as she retaliated.

  Tilly smiled. It looked like Kaye had been right. Watching Lou's reaction to the boy's attention brought back memories of her own first tentative foray into the scary but thrilling world of boys. Her particular nemesis had been called Lee Jarvis and he'd teased her non stop, driving her demented. How could one fourteen-year-old boy be so annoying? And then somehow, after months of him being the absolute bane of her life, she had mysteriously found herself agree ing to dance with him at the school disco. And somehow he hadn't seemed quite so annoying anymore, and somehow Lee had ended up mumbling in her ear, 'You know, I've fancied you for ages,' and to her own amazement she'd found herself realizing that, actually, she fancied him too. And right there and then, in the middle of the dance floor in front of everyone while George Michael sang 'Careless Whisper,' they'd ended up kissing, with tongues…

  And braces, sadly. There'd been a brief uncomfortable clash as metal had scraped against metal, but they'd eventually managed to work around them.

  Lost in a nostalgic glow as she remembered that happy summer of clunky metallic kisses, Tilly jumped a mile when Lou appeared in front of her.

  'Boo! You were miles away.'

  'Sorry, I was just thinking back to my schooldays. Seems like a lifetime ago now.'

  'It was a lifetime ago. You left school before I was even born.' Interested, Lou said, 'Does that make you feel really old?'

  'Thanks, yes, it really does.' As they climbed into the car, Tilly glanced over her shoulder and saw the boy with the tennis racquet loping up behind them. As he drew level he grinned at Lou and waggled his fingers in a kind of half-teasing, half-sarcastic wave.

  Lou didn't wave back. Instead, she pointedly turned her head away and hissed air out from between her teeth like a radiator being bled.

  'Who's he, then?' Tilly said it in a light, casual way.

  'A complete idiot.'

  'Is he? I saw you chatting as you came out of school.'

  'We weren't chatting. I was telling him he's a complete idiot. Or words to that effect.'

  'He looks quite nice.' The boy had floppy dark hair, no acne, and killer cheekbones. You could imagine girls falling for him; he wouldn't look out of place in a boy band.

  'Well, he's not. I hate him. What's for tea?'

  Tilly kept a straight face. Oh yes, that was familiar. How many times, when her friends had said Lee fancied her, had she announced that she hated him? Then abruptly changed the subject. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Lou rummaged through her jam packed rucksack and found a bent Cadbury then glanced briefly at the boy she hated before ostentatiously turning away again.

  'What's his name?'

  'Eddie Marshall-Hicks. What are we having for tea?'

  'Fish pie and blackberry crumble.' Tilly mentally squirreled the name away. Next time she spoke to Kaye on the phone, she'd find out if this was the same boy.

  'It was weird.' Erin didn't mean to go on about it but her lunchtime visit from Stella had put the wind up her. 'She seemed… different. I can't describe the way she was.'

  'So don't try. Let's just relax and have fun.' Fergus twirled Erin through from the kitchen and pulled her down with him on to the sofa. 'If Stella knew about us, trust me, we'd know about it. She'd come right out and say it. But she hasn't, so that means she doesn't. And I'm not going to let the thought of my ex-wife spoil our evening. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime, did I ever tell you what a difference you're making to my secretary's life?'

  'Jeannie? I've never even met her.'

  'Ah, but you can still make a difference.' Fergus arranged Erin's legs so they were resting across his lap and ran a hand affectionately over her ankles. 'Thanks to you, I've been in a ridiculously good mood today. When Jeannie double-booked me for meetings with two clients I said, oh well, no problem, I'll just have to squeeze them both in somehow. I'm telling you, she nearly fainted away with the shock. Next I asked for coffee and she brought me tea, and I didn't threaten to sack her. Then I checked a letter I'd dictated for a client and instead of Dear Mr Robertson she'd typed Deaf Mr Robertson. Which could have been tricky, seeing as Mr Robertson is deaf. But I didn't even yell at her.' Fergus shook his head, amazed by his own forbearance. 'I just said she might like to alter the letter before we sent it out.'

  Erin didn't believe for a moment that he ever yelled at his secre tary, but she smiled anyway. 'And all because of me?'

  'All because of you.'

  A thought struck her. 'Does Jeannie know that? Could she have told Stella?'

  'Hey, stop it.' Fergus stroked her arm. 'You're getting paranoid now. For a start, Jeannie may have guessed I'm seeing someone, but she has no idea who. And secondly, if she did know, she wouldn't tell Stella. They never did like each other. Ever since the day Stella came into the office and said, "Jeannie, have you ever thought of writing in to one of those transformation TV shows and asking for a makeover?"'

  'Ouch.'

  'Well, yes. I thought there'd be bloodshed. Anyway, we're back to talking about Stella. Can we please change the subject again? Could we maybe talk about you for a change? I'd much rather—'

  Ddddrrrringgg went the doorbell, causing Erin to catapult upright in fear. 'Oh God, it's her!'

  'Don't be daft, of course it isn't. It could be anyone.'

  'I suppose it might be Tilly.' Erin began to relax. That would be all right, she could invite Tilly in to meet Fergus.

  'Could be someone with a collecting tin. You'd better go and see.'

  Cautiously Erin peered out of the window overlooking the High Street, but there was no one there. Leaving the living room, she crossed the hall and ventured halfway down the stairs; the fact that her front door led out into a narrow side alleyway was a bonus when it came to enabling Fergus to enter the flat unobserved, but the downside was that it meant she had no way of peering out and seeing who was on the doorstep.

  'Hello?' Please, please let her visitor be Tilly.

  'Erin? Can you open the door please? It's Stella Welch.'

  Chapter 13

  OH GOD, OH GOD. Collapsing back on the stair in fright, Erin clutched at the handrail for support. Oh God, Fergus had told her she was being paranoid. It wasn't supposed to actually happen. 'Um… I can't come down at the moment… I'm not dressed…'

  'Please, just open the door. I need to see you.'

  Erin's heart was banging like a cannon doing a twenty-one-gun salute. 'What about?'

  'Well, for a start, the fact that you're refusing to open the door. What's wrong, Erin? What are you afraid of?'

  You, you, you.

  'Nothing.' All the feeling had gone from her legs.

  'So why won't you let me in?'

  'It just isn't… convenient.'

  'Oh? And why's that?' demanded Stella. 'Could it possibly be because you have my husband up there with you in your flat?'

  How? How could she possibly know? Feeling sick, Erin said, 'I don't, OK? He's not here. Look, I'm not answering the door and I'm going back upstairs now, so please just… go away.'

  Unbelievably, Fergus hadn't heard any of this. As she stumbled back into the living room, he patted the sofa and said, 'What was it, Jehovah's Witnesses? Come here, I've missed you.'

  'It was Stella.' The words felt like ice in her mouth.

  His expression abruptly changed. 'You're joking. It can't be.'

  They both jumped as a shower of grave
l rattled against the window.

  'Oh God.' Erin's stomach clenched. This was turning into Fatal Attraction.

  'Come on, Fergus, I know you're in there.' Stella's furious voice sailed up to them; she was outside on the pavement now, in full view of anyone who happened to be passing.

  'She's making a scene,' said Erin.

  Fergus looked grim. 'She wants to make a scene. Stella's always been a drama queen.'

  'Fergus, you cheating BASTARD,' bellowed Stella.

  'Oh God.' Erin covered her mouth as Fergus rose to his feet.

  'Right, that's it.' He crossed the room and flung open the window.

  'Ha! I knew it!' Stella yelled.

  'Fine, good for you. But this is exactly why I didn't tell you before.' Fergus shook his head in despair. 'I knew you'd make a fuss.'

  'Why wouldn't I make a fuss? You're my husband!'

  'Stella, we're not together anymore. We broke up six months ago. We're getting a divorce.'

  'Thanks to her,' Stella screeched like a parrot.

  Oh no, no, no. Leaping up, Erin raced over to the open window. 'Hang on, that's not true, you can't—'

  'You,' Stella jabbed an accusing finger up at her, 'are a lying, marriage-wrecking bitch!'

  'I'm not, I'm really not, I promise. This only just happened.'

  'Oh yes, and of course I'm going to believe that.' Shaking her head, Stella said bitterly, 'Of course I'm going to believe everything you say.'

  'I swear to God, I'm telling the truth!'

  'Really? Just like you did the other day, when I came into the shop and asked you if you thought Fergus was seeing anyone? And you said no, you definitely didn't think he was?'

  Erin flinched, closing her eyes for a moment. 'OK, that wasn't completely true. But I promise the other stuff is. I would never have an affair with a married man.'

  'You're having an affair with one now!'

  'But you're separated.'

  Below her on the pavement, Stella spread her arms wide. 'And now we know why!'

  God, this was a nightmare. Look at them, yelling at each other like a couple of fishwives. People heading along the High Street were turning to stare, stopping to listen.

  'Right, that's enough.' It was Fergus's turn to intervene. 'This isn't getting us anywhere. Stella, you're being unfair—'

  'I'm being unfair? My God, you hypocrite! My life is in tatters thanks to you, and you expect me to just stand here and take it?'

  'Everyone's looking at you. You're making a spectacle of your self.' Exasperated, Fergus said, 'Go home, Stella. We'll talk about this tomorrow when you've calmed down.'

  'Hang on.' Erin knew she wouldn't be able to rest until she'd asked the question. 'Look, I'm really sorry you're upset, and I swear I've only been seeing Fergus for a few weeks, but how did you know he'd be here tonight? Did someone tell you?'

  Stella gazed up at her. 'Like who?'

  'Like anyone. Because we haven't told anyone,' said Erin. 'Because we didn't want you to find out and be upset.'

  'Well, that worked well, didn't it?'

  Erin bit her lip. 'Please.'

  She saw Stella hesitate. The temptation not to spill the beans must be huge. Luckily, it didn't quite match up to the even greater temptation to do her Miss Marple bit and tell all.

  'When Fergus came to the house last night, he smelled different. I thought I recognized the perfume but I couldn't be sure. That's why I came into the shop at lunchtime. And there it was again, on you.' Stella paused. 'Very… distinctive. No one else in Roxborough wears that scent.'

  This was true. Possibly because there was no Jo Malone shop within fifty miles. Tilly had sent her a bottle of the fabulously exotic perfume for Christmas.

  And the moral of the story was, if you don't want people to know you have a secret lover, you're probably better off not spraying Pomegranate Noir all over your brand new Egyptian cotton sheets.

  The phone rang as Tilly was doing her impression of a chef in the kitchen. Feeling super-efficient, she tucked the cordless phone between ear and shoulder, stirred the frying mushrooms with one hand, and whisked the cheese sauce with the other. Oh yes, this cooking malarkey was a piece of cake.

  'Hi there.' It was Kaye's voice, cheerful and have-a-nice-dayish. 'How's everything going?'

  'Oh, fine. I'm multi-tasking! Just making—oops.' Tilly jumped back as the cheese sauce bubbled and spat, causing her to lose control of the phone, which slid down her chest, bounced off her right breast, and landed in the frying pan on top of the mushrooms. In a panic she hurriedly scooped it out with the spatula, sending the phone clattering across the stove and slices of mushroom flying through the air like confetti.

  Having given the phone a hasty wipe with kitchen towel, Tilly said, 'Hello, are you still there?'

  'Just about.' Kaye sounded amused. 'What happened to me?'

  'I just dropped you. I'm only a trainee multi-tasker. Sorry about that.' She switched off the gas rings before anything more drastic could happen.

  'No problem. Is Lou around?'

  'She's upstairs doing her homework, I'll just take the phone up. By the way, I saw her bickering with a boy yesterday as they were coming out of school. Quite good-looking too.'

  'Ooh!' Avidly Kaye said, 'Do you think she fancied him?'

  'Well, I asked her what he was like and she said he was a com plete idiot. Then she changed the subject.'

  'Classic. Textbook response. Was his name Eddie?'

  Bingo. 'That's the one. Eddie Marshall-Hicks.'

  'Bless. My baby's getting interested in her first boy.' Kaye fal tered, emotion welling up. 'Oh God, and I'm not there to help her through it.'

  'Ah, but did you ask your mum for help when you were thirteen?'

  'No, I suppose not.'

  'Nor me. Sshh, Betty.' Turning round, Tilly saw that Betty had bounded up onto the window seat and, paws scrabbling against the glass, was barking in indignation at the rooks who had the temerity to be cawing and strutting around the lawn as if they owned the place.

  'Oh, Betty! Let me speak to her,' Kaye begged.

  OK, slightly weird but never mind. Glad she wasn't the one paying the phone bill, Tilly knelt on the window seat and held the receiver to Betty's ear.

  'Betsy-Boo! Hello, Betsy-Boo! It's meee,' crooned Kaye.

  Betty tilted her head to one side, then returned to gazing intently out of the window.

  'Betsy-Boo? Betsy-Boo-Boo-Boo! Hello, is the phone by her ear? Can she hear me?'

  'Bark,' Tilly whispered urgently in Betty's other ear. 'Woof, woof, go on, do it.'

  'She's not barking. She's never not barked before.' Kaye sounded distraught. 'She doesn't recognize me.' Her voice rose to a wail. 'She's forgotten who I am!'

  'She hasn't; she's just distracted.' Now Tilly really felt sorry for her. She gave Betty a nudge, willing her to bark.

  'Betty-Betty-Betty,' begged Kaye.

  Betty turned her head away, supremely uninterested. Tilly, crouched down next to her, did a doggy-type snuffle into the phone.

  'Is that her? Betsy-Boo?'

  Tilly closed her eyes and did an experimental high-pitched yip. Actually that wasn't bad at all. Who'd have thought she'd be so good at this? Even Betty had turned to look at her in surprise. Encouraged, Tilly took a deep breath and moved closer to the phone. 'Yip, yip-yip, yip…'

  'Hang on.' Evidently she wasn't the world-class dog mimic she'd imagined. Kaye said slowly, 'That wasn't Betty, was it?'

  'Um… what?'

  'That was you, wasn't it?'

  Tilly's heart sank. Oh well, she'd done her best. 'Yes. Sorry.'

  'Never mind. Thanks for trying. I'll speak to Lou now.' Dryly Kaye said, 'That's if she wants to talk to me.'

  Swiveling round, Tilly saw she wasn't the only person in the room. Just inside the doorway were Max and Jack. Honestly, as if yesterday's embarrassing moment in Jack's sitting room hadn't been enough. Keen to retain some dignity, she slid off the window seat and crossed the kitchen. As she pa
ssed between them, she waggled the phone and said, 'Call for Lou. I'll just take it up to her.'

  Thankfully, Lou had a better memory than Betty. She seized the phone with delight. 'Hey, Mum, I got fifty-eight percent in French today, and that might not sound brilliant but it really was. Euw,' she added, wrinkling her nose. 'This phone smells of mushrooms.'