Rumor Has It (4 page)

    'I know she's cool. And she'll be thrilled to hear you think so too,' said Tilly. 'We've been best friends since university. Anyway, I saw your advert in the paper and tried to ring you yesterday but your answering machine was full. Then this afternoon my train was delayed, and on the off chance, I thought I'd give it another go. Erin says this is a really nice place to live. She'd love it if I moved down here. So here I am.'

    'Can you cook?' said Max.

    'Ish. I'm not Nigella.'

    'Don't look so worried; we're not after Nigella.' Max pulled a face. 'All that sticking her finger in her mouth and groaning in ecstasy—put me right off my dinner, that would.'

    Phew, relief. 'I'm the queen of the bacon sandwich.'

    'That's grand. Food of the gods. Criminal record?'

    Shocked, Tilly yelped, 'No!'

    'Ever nicked anything from any previous employers?'

    'Paperclips.' She concentrated on remembering; honesty was im portant. 'Envelopes. Pens. Cheap ones,' Tilly added, in case he thought she was talking Mont Blancs. 'Oh, and a loo roll once. But only because we'd run out at home, and I didn't have time to stop off at the shop. And
that
was embarrassing, because I was smuggling it out of the build ing under my coat and the doorman asked me if I was pregnant.'

    Max nodded gravely. 'I hate it when that happens to me. Clean driving record?'

    'Absolutely.' This time Tilly was able to reply with confidence, chiefly because she didn't own a car and only occasionally borrowed her parents' Ford Focus—and after being owned and driven by them since the day it had come out of the showroom, it had never even
learned
how to travel faster than thirty miles an hour.

    'Like yellow?'

    'Excuse me?'

    'Do you like yellow? That's the color of the room you'd be sleep ing in if you came to live here.'

    'Depends on what kind of yellow. Not so keen on mustard.'

Max laughed. 'Now she's getting picky.'

'You two. Honestly.' Louisa shook her head.

    They went upstairs and Max showed Tilly the room, which was fabulously decorated in shades of pale gold with accents of silver and white. The view from the elongated sash windows was breathtaking, even if the hills rising into the distance were currently wreathed in grey mist. The curtains were sumptuous and glamorously draped. And as for the bed…

    'Well?' said Max.

    Tilly's mouth was dry. Was it wrong to take a job just because you'd fallen in love with a bed?

    Except this was so much more than just a bed. It was an actual four-poster, draped in ivory and silver damask, the mattress so high you'd practically need to take a running jump at it, the pillows piled up in true interior-designer style.

    This was pure Hollywood, the bed of her dreams, and she wanted to roll around on it like a puppy.

    'She hates it,' said Max.

    Tilly shook her head. 'I can't believe you've made so much effort for someone who's just going to be working for you.'

    'I'm a very generous employer,' Max said modestly.

    'Dad, you liar.' Louisa rolled her eyes at Tilly. 'Don't be im pressed; the room was like this before he even thought of advertising for someone to move in. This is just our best spare room.'

    'Oh. Well, it's still amazing.'

    Max said, 'And I could have used one of the others.'

    'Except that would have meant sorting them out and basically he couldn't be bothered. Still, it's nice, isn't it?' Louisa surveyed Tilly beadily. 'So? What's the verdict?'

    'I want this job,' said Tilly. 'Although I suppose I should talk to Erin first, check out your credentials. You might be the ASBO family from hell.'

    'Oh, we're definitely that.' Max nodded. 'And maybe we should give Erin a call too, find out all about you.'

    'She'll say nice things, tell you I'm lovely. If she doesn't,' said Tilly, 'she knows I'll give her a Chinese burn.'

    Over bacon and egg sandwiches and mugs of tea, they carried on getting to know each other.

    'So how often would you be nicking the toilet rolls?' said Max, feeding Betty a curl of bacon under the table.

    'Not more than once or twice a week, I promise.'

    'Are you bright and cheerful when you get up in the morning?'

    'I can be.'

    'Christ, no, I can't bear people being cheerful in the mornings.'

    'He's a grumpy old man,' Louisa said comfortably, 'aren't you, Dad?'

    Tilly pointed a teasing finger at her. 'If I came to work here, it'd be like
The Sound of Music
.'

    'Minus the singing nuns,' said Max.

    'And with a lot less children to look after,' Louisa pointed out.

    'I wouldn't make you wear dresses made out of curtains,' Tilly promised.

    'And you won't end up marrying Captain Von Trapp,' said Max.

    Quite bluntly, in fact.

    Oh. Right. Not that she wanted to marry him, but still. Tilly guessed it was his way of letting her know right away that she wasn't his type. God, did he think she'd been flirting with him? Because she genuinely hadn't.

    Talk about blunt though.

    Across the table she intercepted a look passing between Louisa and Max.

    'Oh Dad, don't tell her,' Louisa wailed. 'Can't we just leave it for now? Wait until she moves in?'

    'Tell me what?' Tilly sat up, her stomach tightening with ap prehension. Just when everything had been going so well too.

    'I have to,' Max said evenly. 'It's not fair otherwise.'

    For heaven's sake, were they
vampires?

    'Please, Dad, don't,' begged Louisa.

    'Tell me
what
?'

    The phone started ringing out in the hall. Max looked at Louisa and tilted his head in the direction of the door. 'Go and get that, will you, Lou?'

    For a second she stared back at him, her jaw rigid. Then she scraped back her chair and ran out of the kitchen, red curls bouncing off her shoulders.

    'Is this to do with your wife?' Tilly had done
Jane Eyre
at school; had Louisa's mum gone loopy? Had the bit about her going to America been a lie? Was she actually tied up in the attic?

    'In a way.' Max nodded and listened to the murmurings as Louisa answered the phone. 'The reason Kaye and I got divorced is because I'm gay.'

    Crikey, she hadn't been expecting
that
. Tilly put down her sand wich. Was he serious or was this another joke?

    'Really?'

    'Really.' Max surveyed her steadily for a moment. 'OK, let me just tell you before Lou comes back. When I was in my twenties, it was easier to be heterosexual. I met Kaye and she was great. Then she got pregnant. Not exactly planned, but that was fine too.' His smile was crooked. 'And my mother was thrilled. So anyway, we got married and Lou was born, and I told myself I had to stay straight for their sakes. Well, I lasted nearly ten years. And I never once cheated on Kaye. But in the end I couldn't do it any more. We split up. Poor old Kaye; it wasn't her fault. And Lou's coped brilliantly. She's a star.'

    'I can see that,' said Tilly.

    'But it's obviously been a lot for her to cope with. I don't have a partner right now, which makes things easier. And it's not as if I'd ever bring home a different man every week.' Max paused, then said, 'The thing is, you have to remember this isn't London, it's Roxborough. Before we advertised in the paper, I spoke to a woman who runs an employment agency and she said I shouldn't mention the gay thing at all. Apparently, a lot of potential employees would be put off, especially if half the reason for taking the job was because they fancied their chances with a wealthy single father.' He half smiled before adding dryly, 'And then you came out with your
Sound
of Music
comment.'

    'I didn't mean it like that,' Tilly protested.

    'Well, that's good news. But according to this woman, some people might just not want to live in a house with a gay man.' Max shrugged. 'I'm just repeating what she told me. Apparently some people might find it a bit… yucky.'

    A noise behind them prompted Tilly to swivel round. Louisa was back, standing in the doorway.

    'Well?' Louisa looked anxious.

    Tilly was incredulous. 'This woman who runs an employment agency. Is she by any chance two hundred and seventy years old?'

    Louisa's narrow shoulders sagged with relief. 'Does that mean it isn't a problem? You still want to come and live here?'

    Unable to keep a straight face, Tilly said, '
That's not a problem
. But if we're talking yucky, I'm going to need to know exactly what your dad's like when it comes to digging butter knives in the marmalade, dumping tea bags in the sink, and leaving the top off the toothpaste.'

    Lou pulled a conspiratorial face. 'He's OK most of the time. When he concentrates.'

    'That's all right then,' said Tilly. 'So am I.'

'TILLY, TILLY!' THE DOOR to the flat was open and Babs burst in like a rocket. 'It's Gavin; he's here! Oh my word, this is so romantic, he wants you back…'

    Tilly stopped dead in her tracks. Not again. She finished zipping up the last suitcase and moved over to the open window.

    Yes, Gavin was down there. Clutching a bunch of lilies and wearing extremely ironed jeans with knife-sharp creases down the front, courtesy of his mother.

    She marveled at the fact that they'd lived together, yet he still hadn't grasped the fact that lilies were her least favorite flower.

    Gazing up at her, Gavin called out, 'Tilly, don't go, I can't bear it. Look, I made a mistake and I'm
sorry
.'

    'It's like one of those lovely films with Cary Grant,' Babs sighed, clasping her hands together.

    It was nothing of the sort; Cary Grant would
never
have let his mother iron his jeans like that.

    'Gavin, don't do this. You left me, remember? It's over.' Since coming to regret his decision, Gavin had been begging her to change her mind about leaving. This was the bit Tilly hated, but at least she was spared the guilt of having been the one to initiate the split.

    'But I love you!' In desperation he held up the bunch of lilies as proof.

    'Oh Gavin, it's too late. How could I trust you? Every day I'd come home from work and wonder if you were still there.' Whereas in reality, she'd been coming home from work and enjoying the fact that he wasn't.

    'I made a mistake. I wouldn't do it again, I promise.'

    'You say that now. But it's too late anyway. I've left my job.' Hooray! 'I'm leaving London.' Yay! 'In fact'—Tilly nodded at the minicab pulling up at the curb behind him—'I'm leaving right now.'

    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!'