The Well of Lost Plots (Thursday Next 3)

I looked at Lola's suitcase and then at the two of them; they were studiously ignoring one another.

'What's going on?'

'I'm leaving to start work on Girls Make all the Moves.'

'That's excellent news, Lola,' I said, genuinely impressed. 'Randolph?'

'Yes, very good. All the clothes and boyfriends she wants.'

'You're sour because you didn't get that male-mentor part you wanted,' retorted Lola.

'Not at all,' replied Randolph, resentment bubbling under the surface. 'I've been offered a small part in an upcoming Amis – a proper novel. A literary one.'

'Well, good luck to you,' replied Lola. 'Send me a postcard if you can be troubled to talk to anyone in chicklit.'

'Guys,' I said, 'don't part like this!'

Lola looked at Randolph, who turned away. She sighed, stared at me for a moment and then got up.

'Well,' she said, picking up her case, 'I've got to go. Fittings all morning then rehearsals until six. Busy, busy, busy. I'll keep in touch, don't worry.'

I got up, held my head for a moment as it thumped badly, then hugged Lola, who hugged me back happily.

'Thanks for all the help, Thursday,' she said, tears in her eyes. 'I wouldn't have made it up to B-3 without you.'

She went to the door, stopped for a moment and looked across at Randolph, who was staring resolutely out of the window at nothing in particular.

'Goodbye, Randolph.'

'Goodbye,' he said without looking up.

Lola looked at me, bit her lip and went across to him and kissed him on the back of the head. She returned to the door, said goodbye to me again and went out.

I sat down next to him. A large tear had rolled down his nose and dropped on to the table. I laid a hand on his.

'Randolph—!'

'I'm fine!' he growled. 'I've just got a bit of grit in my eye!'

'Did you tell her how you felt?'

'No I didn't!' he snapped. 'And what's more I don't want you dictating to me what I should and shouldn't do!'

He got up and stormed off to his bedroom, the door slamming shut behind him.

'Hellooo!' said a Granny Next sort of voice. 'Are you well enough to come upstairs?'

'Yes.'

'Then you can come and help me down.'

I assisted her down the stairs and sat her at the table, fetching a cushion or two from the living room.

'Thanks for your help, Gran. I made a complete fool of myself last night.'

'What's life for?' she replied. 'Don't mention it. And by the way, it was Lola and me who undressed you, not the boys.'

'I think I was past caring.'