Babyville Page 0,86

you like that,” and Mark knocks on the door.

Viv shoots me a look of alarm as I slide over to the door in my fluffy Garfield slippers, and I grin at her as I open the door because Mark has seen me in pretty much every state imaginable, except . . . ah. Sorry. I repeat. Every state imaginable. And he doesn't care.

“It's only Mark,” I say, grinning evilly at Viv, leaning up and kissing Mark on the cheek. “What a lovely surprise. Can it be coincidence that I happened to mention on the phone today that Viv was down for the weekend?”

“Ah,” Mark says. “Funny you should say that, but I was beginning to think you were keeping me away from your mother for a reason. Hello.” He grins at her and shakes her hand. “I'm Mark. And I would say you're far too young to be Maeve's mother but that would sound terribly cheesy so I won't, even though it's true.”

Viv simpers. I make a vomiting noise. All three of us go to Pizza Express.

“He's wonderful!” I swear, if I didn't know better I would say my mother was floating on cloud nine. I, on the other hand, am floating on cloud seven or eight, thrilled, delighted, amazed, that my mother and Mark hit it off so well.

“Hurry up.” I wash my hands and wait for Viv to reapply her lip gloss, snatching it out of her hand when she's done and giving my own lips a quick slick.

“Changed your mind, have you?” Viv gives me a knowing smile, digging out a mascara and handing it over.

“There's no harm in trying to make a bit of an effort,” I say defensively. “Come on, Mark will think we've fallen in the toilet.”

“But he's such a good man,” Viv sighs, as we walk back up the stairs into the restaurant. “He's so warm, and solid, and lovely. And he clearly adores you.”

“And I adore him,” I say sternly, threading my way through the tables, which is not easy, given my belly. “And we're best friends and that's it. Okay?”

Viv just smiles to herself.

“Viv? Okay? Okay?”

“The lady,” she whispers under her breath as she approaches the table and pulls out her chair, tilting her head and speaking just loudly enough for me to hear, which I know was her intention, “doth protest too much, methinks.” Flashing a smile at Mark, who didn't hear a thing, or if he did, didn't know what she was talking about, she picks up a menu. “Dessert, anyone?”

The three of us go back to the flat, and as I put my key in the lock, my heart does a huge flipflop and I turn to Viv in alarm, feeling the color drain from my face. “I locked the door, didn't I? I could have sworn I locked the door.”

Mark pushes me gently aside and takes my key. “You two stay here. Let me just check everything's okay.” He pushes open the door and goes inside, as Viv and I huddle together, terrified I've been burgled. The door slams shut and a couple of minutes later Mark opens the door, frowning.

“I think you'd better come in,” he says, and as we follow him into the living room my heart thumps so hard against my chest I think I may very well be sick. I know what to expect. Overturned chairs; emptied-out drawers; all my belongings strewn all over the floor. Oh shit. My grandmother's pearls. I kept meaning to hide them, but they were in the drawer of my bedside table. An inventory of my things flashes through my mind, and I pray they didn't find the earrings Viv gave me for my twenty-first birthday. Not that they're diamonds or anything, but the sentimental value is enormous.

Oh shit. I'm not sure I can handle this.

We walk into the living room and I stop with a gasp. Sitting on the sofa, with her head in her hands, looking absolutely terrible, is Fay. The owner of the flat. Who isn't supposed to be here for another six months.

“I thought you were in Greece?” I hear myself saying. “I know this might sound like a stupid question, but what on earth are you doing here?”

19

It wasn't such a stupid question. It transpired that Fay had fallen head over heels in love with a hunky blond Australian she met on Paros. His name was Stu. He was an “internet entrepreneur” (at which point even Mark raised his eyebrows), and Fay decided