Making Your Mind Up (15 page)

“Hi there!” Spotting Mario and Karen at a corner table, Lottie waved and threaded her way toward them.

Mario, instantly suspicious, said, “What are you doing here?”

“Now there's a welcome. Just as well I've already bought myself a drink!” Waggling her fingers cheerily at Karen, Lottie pulled out the third chair and sat down. “Don't mind if I join you, do you? How was Stratford, by the way? Buy anything nice?”

“Uh, well…yeah.” Clearly mystified by this intrusion into their privacy, Karen looked at Mario.

“Where are the kids?” asked Mario.

“Locked up in a police cell.” Lottie pulled a face at him, then beamed. “Cressida's babysitting. I just really fancied a night out.”

Mario gave her a measured look. “I'll bet you did.”

“Well, why not? It's a beautiful evening.” Taking a sip of her drink and sitting back, Lottie heaved a sigh of contentment. “What could be nicer than being out here, the three of us?”

“Hang on. Excuse me.” Her shoulders very straight, Karen demanded, “Are you Mario's girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend? Gosh no. I'm his wife.”

Karen's eyes bulged.

“Ex-wife,” Mario corrected wearily.

“Ex-wife and mother to his children. But we still get on well, don't we?” Lottie gave Mario a friendly nudge. “Not in
that
sense of course, but in a just-good-friends kind of way. Like I get on well with Amber, his girlfriend. She's away on vacation at the moment, but she's lovely. If you met her, you'd like her too.”

“OK.” Mario held up his hands. “You've made your point, said what you came here to say. But there's really no need. I already told you, I'm not doing anything wrong. Karen and I are just
friends
.”

Lottie, wondering just how much he hated her right now, nodded vigorously. “I know! And I think it's great! That's why I thought I'd join you, so we can have a fun evening and all be friends together!”

He'd been outmaneuvered. Recognizing that there was no way out, Mario shrugged good-naturedly and said, “Fine. We'll do that.”

“Good.” Lottie's smile was dazzling. “Karen? You don't mind, do you?”

From the look on her face, Karen was about as thrilled as if Lottie had suggested tattooing a dear little mustache on her upper lip. But since Mario had already acquiesced, she was forced to shake her head and say, “No, of course I don't mind.”

Lying through her gritted teeth, naturally, but Lottie didn't let that bother her. Warmly she said, “That's
great
.”

“Oh!” As if she'd just remembered she had a Get Out of Jail Free card, Karen blurted out, “We won't be able to stay for long though.” She pretended to look disappointed. “We're going into Cheltenham.”

“For something to eat.” Lottie nodded enthusiastically. “I know, Mario mentioned it earlier. You'll love Trigiani's; they do the
best
spaghetti marinara. That's why I haven't had anything to eat!”

* * *

Honestly, for a girl who'd been looking for companionship and good conversation, Karen had made surprisingly little effort in that department. Following their meal at Trigiani's, the journey back to Hestacombe was a subdued one. When they reached Piper's Cottage and Mario slowed the car down, Lottie leaned forward from the backseat and said, “Actually, why don't we drop Karen off first?”

“We're here now.” In the rearview mirror, Mario's gaze met hers. “Plus, I'd like a private word with Karen.”

What a
surprise.

“And I'd like a private word with you,” said Lottie. “About Ruby and Nat. You don't mind being dropped off first, do you, Karen?”

By this time, thoroughly fed up and keen to escape, Karen gestured with her Chanel clutch bag. Unlike every other Chanel bag Lottie had ever seen, it was the genuine article rather than a knock-off. “No, go ahead. Whatever.”

Lottie loved that expression: it signaled, “You've won, I give up.”
Whaaateverrrr.

Hilarious.

* * *

“Well done,” said Mario, pulling up outside Piper's Cottage for the second time.

Lottie's smile was serene. “Don't mention it.”

“Pleased with yourself?”

“Delighted, thanks.”

“It wasn't necessary, you know. I didn't need a chaperone.”

“Of course you didn't.” Patting his arm, Lottie said, “You wouldn't cheat on Amber.”

“So what made you do it?”

“Just making extra sure. Turn off the ignition.”

Mario rolled his eyes. “Why?”

“Because you're staying here tonight. With us.”

“Are you after my body?”

Lottie said, “No, but I know a girl who is.”

“She's gone.”

“Ah, but she might ring you, persuade you against your better judgment to meet up with her again. As your chaperone, it's my duty to protect you from wicked wanton women. In fact, I think you should stay with us for the rest of the week. The kids would love it.”

“And?”

“And when Amber asks me if you've been behaving yourself, I'll be able to tell her you have.”

Mario shook his head, half smiling at the look on her face. “It really means that much to you?”

“I want my children to be happy. That means more than anything to me. And they love Amber to bits. The two of you being together makes them happy. I just don't want you to mess things up for them.”

“OK, OK. If it's that important, I'll stay here for the rest of the week.”

Yay, victory! Jumping out of the car, Lottie danced around to the driver's side. When Mario climbed out, tall and rangy in his dark blue shirt and faded jeans, she slipped her arm through his and planted a grateful kiss on his cheek as together they made their way up the path. It was only ten o'clock, which meant the kids would still be up and doubtless she and Mario would be dragooned into a marathon game of Monopoly.

“One thing.” Mario paused before she opened the front door.

“What?”

“This big old sermon about me staying with Amber because the kids love her and if I was with anyone else it'd ruin their lives and turn them into glue-sniffing delinquents.”

“Yes?” If they were going to play Monopoly, Lottie wanted to be the racing car. She always won when she was the racing car.

Mario gave her a speculative look. “So how come it's all right for you to go out with Tyler Klein?”

* * *

Mario was at work when an appreciative wolf whistle echoed through the air-conditioned showroom. Looking up, he saw the cause of it; Amber was stepping through the automatic doors.

“You're a lucky devil.” Jerry, the perpetrator of the wolf whistle, stroked his designer-stubbled chin and studied Amber like a hard-to-impress trainer at a horse auction. “If you ever decide you don't want her, I'll take her off your hands.”

“In your dreams,” said Mario, because Jerry weighed 225 pounds and liked to conceal his graying hair with liberal applications of Just for Men.

Furthermore, Mario had no intention of off-loading Amber onto anyone. Watching her make her way across the showroom, he was struck by how fantastic she was looking in a sunflower-yellow silk top and flippy white skirt. Her hair was blonder and her tan deeper than ever. She glowed with vitality. Luckily there were no customers around.

“You're back.” It had been annoying at the time, but now he was glad Lottie had appointed herself his guardian. His conscience was clear; he hadn't done anything wrong, and it felt great. Hugging Amber, breathing in the gorgeous smell of her skin, he gave her a kiss. “I've missed you.”

“Really?” Turning to Mario's coworkers, Amber said playfully, “Has he?”

“Not at all.” Jerry, ever-helpful, said, “I'd dump him if I were you. Fancy going out with me instead?”

“Does she look desperate?” Reaching for her hand, Mario said, “Let's go somewhere more private.”

“Two secs. Jerry, has my boyfriend been behaving himself?”

“Absolutely. He was polite to all the lap dancers, always asked their permission before tucking the twenties into their G-strings.” Guffawing at his own wit, Jerry went on, “Always warmed his hands before—”

“Sacking his staff,” Mario suggested.

“Maybe I picked the wrong person to ask.” Amber's smile was rueful.

Mario gave her hand a squeeze. “Come on. We can talk properly outside.”

Out in the parking lot behind the showroom, he kissed her again. “What time did you get back? I wasn't expecting to see you until tonight.”

“The plane landed at one o'clock, we were home by two thirty. But I can't see you this evening. One of my regulars got desperate and tried to do her own highlights while I was away. Apparently she looks like a scarecrow and is refusing to leave her house until I've sorted out the mess. That's why I'm here now.”

“But…you were coming over to
us
.” Mario couldn't believe it; he'd spent the last week practically counting down the hours. “We've got all the food for a barbecue. The kids have been dying to see you.”

Amber searched his face. “How about you?”

“Me too.” How could she even ask him that?

“Well, good. But Maisie's highlights are green. They're going to take hours to sort out, and I know I'm going to be shattered tonight. So I'll see you tomorrow instead.” Amber unlocked the trunk of her turquoise Fiat and lifted out a box. “And you can give these to Nat and Ruby; that'll cheer them up.”

Unlike Tyler Klein, Amber was an inspired present-chooser, always managing to find just the right gifts. As the box was plonked into his arms Mario said, “They'd rather have you there.”

“And they will. Tomorrow.” Checking her watch, Amber leaned across and gave him a brief peck on the cheek. “I'd better shoot off; I've got so much catching up to do. Bye, darling. Don't forget to give the monsters a big warm hug from me.”

Mario stood and watched the Fiat shoot out of the parking lot and bomb off down the road. If he didn't know better, he'd wonder if maybe she hadn't met someone else on vacation.

No. That was ridiculous. Amber would never do that.

But there was still something unnervingly different about her. Swallowing disappointment—and grimly ignoring the sense of unease in his chest—he headed back into the showroom.

All that anticipation for nothing.

“Wa-heyyy!” crowed Jerry. “Here he is, back from his quickie in the parking lot. And, ladies and gentlemen, at one minute forty-three seconds, that
was
quick…”

Mario treated Jerry's infantile attempt at humor with the contempt it deserved.
Jesus, is it still only four o'clock?

So much for counting down the hours till Amber's return.

“Tonight's the night…da da, de-da da.” Lottie sang the song quietly so that no one else could hear as she surveyed her reflection in the dressing table mirror. Her dress was dark red and shimmery, and so was her mouth. Her hair, hanging loose tonight, was a mass of glossy black ringlets, and her eyes were bright. Beneath the dress, her black silk bra and panties were the kind you wore when you very much hoped they'd be seen. Also beneath the dress, her heart was racing like a hamster on a wheel as she reached for the mascara and finished her eyes. In ten minutes Mario and Amber would be arriving to pick up the kids. Nat and Ruby were spending the night at Mario's…oh yes, this was definitely going to be an evening to remember. Turning sideways in the mirror, Lottie critically surveyed her figure. Hearing the gentle slap-slap of flip-flops on the stairs, she called out, “Ruby? Come and tell me what you think. Does my bum look big in this dress?”

Ruby appeared in the bedroom doorway. “Yes.”

“Excellent.” Lottie patted her shapely backside with satisfaction. If she said so herself, it was one of her finest assets. Then she saw the expression on Ruby's face. “Rubes? What's wrong?”

“Nat's got a stomachache. He's been sick and now he's crying.”

“Sick!” Alarmed, Lottie rushed to the door. “Where?”

“Not on the carpet. In the loo. He says his stomach really hurts.”

Together they raced downstairs. Nat was lying on the sofa in the living room clutching his abdomen and whimpering with pain. Lottie knelt beside him and stroked his face. “Oh, sweetheart. When did this start?”

“Not long. I felt ill at teatime, but it's just gotten bad now.” Nat screwed up his face and gritted his teeth. “Mummy, it hurts so much.”

Lottie was stroking his forehead. Perplexed, she said, “Why are you all wet?”

“I washed my face after I was sick. And I pulled the flush to make it all go away.”

“You washed your face?
And
remembered to pull the flush?” To see if she could make him smile Lottie said, “It's like a double miracle!”

But Nat buried his face in her neck and wailed, “Hug me, Mummy. Make me better.
Ow
, I feel sick again…”

Lottie experienced a horrid feeling of trepidation, one she wasn't remotely proud of. Nat was ill; he'd always been more prone to stomach upsets than Ruby. She'd nursed him through plenty of vomiting sessions over the years and invariably he recovered by the next day.

But tonight was
the
night,
her
night, and she didn't want this to be happening now. She was all dressed up, her hair done, her legs freshly shaved. Tyler was expecting her at Fox Cottage in less than thirty minutes. Short of tumbling down the stairs and breaking both legs, she hadn't imagined anything could happen to stop her being there.

Foolishly, she'd forgotten she was a mother.

“I've brought the dishwashing bowl,” Ruby announced, “for him to be sick in again if it comes up really fast.”

“Thanks.” As Nat clung to her like a limpet, Lottie sensed that this was how it would feel if your lottery numbers came up the one week you hadn't bought a ticket. “But it helps if you take the dishes out of it first.”

“Where's Amber?” Ruby demanded when Mario arrived minutes later.

“Busy. She can't come over tonight.” Mario eyed Nat and the bowl with trepidation. “What's going on?”

Nat gave him a piteous look. “I'm really ill.”

Mario visibly recoiled as if Nat might suddenly launch into projectile-vomit mode.

“He might not be sick again,” Lottie said. “He's just got a tummyache.” In desperation she stroked Nat's face and said, “Maybe you just need to go to sleep, sweetheart.”

“Noooo.” Nat shook his head and tightened his grip on her.

“Poor Mummy.” Ruby looked sympathetic. “She's going to miss her important business meeting in Bath.”

“Business meeting?” Mario raised a skeptical eyebrow at the red, tight-fitting, shimmery dress.

“It's a Tourist Board thing. Meeting first, dinner afterward.” Lottie, who had been rehearsing the lie all day, said defensively, “At the Pump Rooms. Everyone dresses up.”

Not that it mattered anymore. They all knew she wasn't going anywhere. Unless by some miracle… “Nat, why don't you let Daddy look after you, hmm? He'd—”

“Nooooooooo.”
Throwing himself at her, Nat whimpered, “I'm sick. Don't go out, Mummy. I want you to stay with me.”

* * *

“You're going out
again
?” Ruby looked horrified.

“What do you mean, again?” Busy clearing the breakfast table, Lottie raised her eyebrows in retaliation. “I haven't
been
anywhere yet.”

It was the morning after, and Nat had made a suspiciously swift recovery from his stomach upset.
Alleged
stomach upset. Having already polished off a mountain of Cocoa Krispies at record speed, he had raced upstairs to get ready for school and could now be heard clumping down again, bellowing out the new Avril Lavigne single at the top of his voice.

Ruby, sitting at the table still plowing through her own bowl of Crunchy Nut cornflakes—which always took forever because she refused to sully them with milk—looked at Nat as he burst into the kitchen and said meaningfully, “She's going out again.”

Nat abruptly stopped singing. “Why?”

“Because you're going over to your dad's house for a barbecue and I've decided to join an evening class in Cheltenham.” Pouring herself a strong coffee, Lottie said, “That's allowed, isn't it?”

“What evening class?”

What indeed? Macramé? Russian for beginners? Knit your own chastity belt?

“Line dancing,” Lottie said firmly.

They gazed at her in disbelief. “What?”

“It's fun.”

“Where they wear cowboy hats and pointy boots? And all dance in a line?” Nat clapped his hands over his mouth, smothering a giggle. “That's
saaaad
.”

“You don't have to wear a hat and boots.”

“It's still sad. Mega sad. Only nerdy durr-brains do stuff like that.”

Feeling defensive on behalf of line dancers everywhere—she'd never attempted it herself but it always looked rather jolly—Lottie said, “But I'll be doing it and I'm not a nerdy durr-brain.” For good measure she added evenly, “Nor's Arnold Schwarzenegger, and he's been line dancing for years.”

“That's a lie!” Outraged, Nat cried out, “He has not!”

“It's
all
a lie.” Ruby was scornful. “She isn't going to any evening class. She's just saying it so she can meet that man again.”

Nat stared at Lottie. “Is that true?”

Lottie's heart sank. Why did life have to be so difficult?

“OK, I
was
going to join the line dancing class.” She spoke swiftly because lying was one thing; being caught lying was quite another. “But I'm meeting Tyler afterward.”

Ruby pushed aside her bowl of Crunchy Nut cornflakes. “See?”

“No.” Nat shook his head. “Mummy, don't.”

“Nat, it doesn't make any difference to you. You don't have to see him. He's a nice man,” Lottie said helplessly.

His lower lip stuck out. “You mean
you
like him.”

“Yes, I do.” Lottie put down her coffee. “Sweetheart, it's just one night out. With a friend.”

“And then another night out, and another, and another,” Ruby chanted. “And he isn't a friend. He's a
boyfriend
.” She spat out the last word as if it was botulism. “Mum, please don't go out with that man. He hates us.”

“He doesn't hate you! How can you even think that?
OK
.” Lottie held up her hands as they both opened their mouths. “We don't have time for this now. It's half past eight. We'll talk about it properly after school.”

“Fine.” Ruby glowered and pushed back her chair as Lottie began searching for the car keys. “That means you're still going to see him tonight.”

Was there seriously any reason why she shouldn't? Picking up the half-empty cereal bowl and feeling unfairly criticized, Lottie said, “Yes, I am. And I'm looking forward to it. Now go brush your teeth.”

* * *

The run of spectacular weather came to an abrupt end that afternoon. Charcoal-gray storm clouds rolled in from the west and the first fat drops of rain, as big as pennies, thudded onto the windshield of Lottie's car as she drove to Oaklea School to pick up Ruby and Nat. Typically, by the time she'd found somewhere to park, the spattering of raindrops had accelerated to a downpour. Even more typically, Lottie hadn't brought a jacket. Bracing herself for a sprint up the road, she leaped athletically from the car and heard an ominous
rrrrriiip
as the modest, meant-to-be-there split at the front of her skirt became a decidedly immodest one reaching almost up to her panties.

Oh well, she'd just have to skulk at the back of the playground, signal her presence to Nat and Ruby from a distance, and make a hasty getaway. Clutching the split seams together and discovering this meant she could only totter along like a geisha girl, Lottie gave up and did her best to cover the split with both hands. Now she looked as if she was desperate for a bathroom.

Never mind, nearly there. Damn, why did it always have to rain just as school ended? Glancing down to check she was at least semidecent skirtwise, Lottie sucked in her breath at yet another unwelcome discovery: her white shirt was wet and sticking to her like plastic wrap. Proudly revealing her lacy red bra.