A Walk in the Park by Jill Mansell Page A

can manage without you.”
    But Evie was already shaking her head. “It’s OK, I’m staying here. I want to wait until we’re settled before facing everyone and getting hassle from Joel.” She paused. “That’s if he hasn’t run off with his little makeup girl.”
    â€œSure?”
    â€œCompletely.” Evie pushed up her sleeves and headed for the stairs. “Let’s get everything done first, while nobody knows we’re here.”
    ***
    Six hours on, the house was beginning to come together. Well, kind of. The beds had been delivered on time, which was a bonus. Having just finished making up the last one, Lara stopped to stretch her aching shoulders. Half the packing cases had been emptied, clothes had been hung in the fitted wardrobes, the chests of drawers they’d brought them in had been installed. OK, so they had no curtains and no curtain rails as yet, but the bookcase on the landing was now brimming with books, the TV was set up in the living room and the bathroom was all done.
    Evie and Gigi had driven off ten minutes ago to pick up a Chinese from the takeout place Evie insisted was the best in Bath. Lara finished piling the rest of the sheets and duvet covers into the airing cupboard. Her stomach was rumbling, she was hot and sticky, and her hair was glued to her neck. All the windows in the house were flung open in an attempt to clear the artificial smells she hated so much.
    OK, next box. Opening it on the landing, Lara saw that it contained saucepans and kitcheny things. So much for Gigi’s brilliant labeling system. She bent down and gathered the box into her arms.
    Halfway down the staircase, the weight of the contents overcame the strength of the tape securing the bottom of the box.
    Lara yelled, “ Noooo…! ” as the cardboard flaps gave way, trapdoor-style, then “Ow- OUCH! ” as the contents landed on her bare feet before clattering the rest of the way down the stairs. Bloody chopping board, bloody buggering saucepans, bloody cheese grater.
    Yuk, literally .
    Lara sank down on the bottom step and examined the damage. A couple of cuts, a graze, and several incipient blue bruises; her feet looked as if they’d gone out, got drunk, and got into a fight.
    God, and they really hurt .
    Then she heard the sound of knocking and realized there was someone at the door. There was a doorbell but it didn’t work, thanks to the lovely Janice having unscrewed the case and removed the battery before she’d left.
    Well, it couldn’t be Evie and Gigi; they had a key. Limping across the hall, Lara peeked through the window to see who was out there on the doorstep. The next moment she ducked down out of sight, scalp prickling in disbelief.
    How, how could Flynn be here on the doorstep?
    And now her heart had gone into overdrive; giant cymbals were crashing away inside her chest. It was like Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture in there. Lara closed her eyes, struggling to think. Selfishly, seeing Flynn again without warning was hard enough anyway. Last time she’d been all dressed up and looking her best. Today was different; she was scruffy and smeared with dust, her face was shiny, her hair was damp, and there were sweat patches on her T-shirt. Oh, the glamour .
    This wasn’t just about her, though, was it? There were other people to consider. For a start, if he knew she was here, did that mean he knew about Gigi too? Because if not, he was going to get a shock.
    But importantly, far more importantly, what about Gigi? She wanted to meet her father, but not without any warning at all. Let’s face it, the three of them had been working like dogs today in ninety degree heat. Given the choice, Gigi would much rather make a good first impression with shiny just-washed hair and clean clothes.
    Lara exhaled slowly. She was still crouching on the floor and her feet were throbbing. If she stayed like this, was it remotely likely that