‘I’d rather know what all this is about.’
Wham! finished playing and was replaced — surprise surprise — by Slade belting out ‘Merry Christmas Everybody’. Noddy Holder’s cheese-grater voice vibrated off the walls and everyoneon the dance floor punched the air, pogo-ing madly and singing along not quite in time with the music. Having watched them for a few seconds, Lola turned her attention back to the man and said, ‘Still waiting.’
In the dim lighting of this corner of the bar his expression was unreadable. ‘Twentieth of May?’
Something squeezed tight in Lola’s chest. ‘That’s my birthday’
He sat back, exhaled, pushed his fingers through his dark hair then half smiled. ‘In that case you’re definitely my daughter.’
The furry white nylon ear flopped once more over Lola’s face. Little stars danced in her field of vision as she fumbled with the Velcro fastening her costume at the neck. But her fingers couldn’t manage it and heat was spreading inexorably through her body. Finally she managed to say,
‘Please, could you help me take my head off? I’m feeling a bit ... um, faint.’
Chapter 17
One minute you were in a wine bar more or less blending in with the twenty-two other people cavorting around in fancy dress, the next minute you were sitting in an all-night cafe with a mug of hot tea, attracting all manner of smirks and funny looks from everyone else in the place.
Lola still couldn’t assimilate what had happened; her brain had stubbornly refused to believe what he was telling her. Apart from anything else, this man wasn’t even American.Yet ... why would he be here doing this if it weren’t true?
‘Sorry.’ The man sitting opposite her said it for the third time. ‘I knew it was going to be a shock but I couldn’t think of any way of saying it that wouldn’t be.’
‘That’s OK.’ At least it was cooler in here. The urge to pass out had receded. Her head was still spinning but out of shock rather than syncope. ‘You can’t imagine how unexpected this is.’
He did that rueful semi-smile again. ‘For me too.’
Lola sipped her tea, burning her mouth but appreciating the sugar rush. ‘So you’re ... Steve?’
The semi-smile abruptly disappeared. ‘No. That’s not me.’
So. Not American, not called Steve. Something wasn’t right here. But he seemed so genuine, so convinced .. .
‘What’s your name then?’
What’s your name? What a question.
‘Nick. Nick James.’ Shaking his head, he said, ‘I can’t believe your mother didn’t tell you that.’
‘Tull, that’s nothing! She told me you were from New York.’ She looked at him suspiciously.
‘Are you?’ Was he, perhaps, pretending to be British?
His eyebrows went up. ‘What else did she say?’
‘Oh God.’ Lola almost dropped her cup. ‘Your eyebrows. That’s just how mine go when I’m surprised ...’ Tea slopped onto the table as her trembling increased, because the similarity was almost uncanny. ‘You’ve got my eyebrows!’
‘Actually, you’ve got mine,’ Nick James pointed out. ‘That’s incredible! And we have dark hair.’
‘You have your mother’s eyes and freckles.’
‘But not her hair. Before you saw me, did you think I’d be a redhead?’
He shook his head. ‘I knew you weren’t. I visited you once, when you were a baby!
Lola felt as if.. all the air had been squeezed from her lungs. ‘You did?’
‘Oh yes. Briefly.’ He smiled. ‘You were beautiful. Seeing you for the first time ... well, it was incredible.’
Her eyes abruptly filling with tears, Lola said, ‘And then you buggered off again! The tears took her by surprise and she brushed them away angrily; it wasn’t as if she’d had a miserable life without
‘No, no. God, that’s not what happened at all.’ Horrified, Nick James said, ‘Is that what you think, that I was the one who walked away? Because I didn’t, I swear. I loved your mother and I wanted the three of us to be a family, more than anything. She was the one who wouldn’t have it.’
‘Hang on.’ Lola stopped him, because this was just too surreal; there had to have been some kind of misunderstanding here. ‘This is Blythe we’re talking about?’
She had to double-check. Imagine if he sat back in dismay and said, ‘No, not Blythe! I’m talking about Linda.’
And the eyebrows had just been an eerie coincidence.
But he didn’t, he just nodded and said simply, ‘Blythe Malone, that’s right.’
‘Anything to eat, love?’ A waitress bustled over to their table, mopping up the tea Lola had spilled on the Formica.
‘No thanks.’ There was so much to take in, not least the discovery that her own mother had lied to her.
And in a pretty major way.
‘Sure? We’ve got a lovely lamb hotpot.’ The waitress helpfully pointed to the appropriate photograph on the laminated menu. ‘Or faggots and chips, everyone likes our faggots.’
