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dinners. You’d have to pay for it, of course, but there wouldn’t have to be any funny business.’

      ‘Yes, and since you’re paying him, you could get him to say whatever you wanted,’ Kate added eagerly, picking up the idea and running with it with typical enthusiasm.

      ‘He’s bound to be good-looking if he works for an escort agency, so you could pretend he’s incredibly rich and successful, too. You can tell everyone that he utterly adores you, and asks you to marry him every day, but you’re not sure whether he’s exactly what you want, so you’re keeping him dangling.’

      ‘Why would I want to do that?’

      ‘So everyone will envy you, of course. The other women at the wedding, anyway,’ Kate qualified. ‘And the best thing is that if anyone meets you in the future and asks what’s happened to him, you can say that you just got bored with his insatiable sexual demands!’

      Phoebe couldn’t help laughing. ‘That doesn’t sound very likely!’

      ‘OK, he can’t satisfy your insatiable appetite!’

      ‘Oh, yes, I can see myself telling Mum that when she asks why I don’t bring my nice young man down for the weekend!’

      ‘Kate’s just complicating things,’ said Bella, bringing them back to order. ‘All you need is someone attractive who will brush up nicely in a suit and look suitably adoring so that instead of everyone pitying you or making their husbands and boyfriends cover their eyes whenever you go near them, they’ll all be madly jealous!’

      Phoebe let herself imagine what it would be like to turn up at Ben’s wedding with someone apparently rich and good-looking on her arm. She had to admit that as an idea, it had its advantages. Her mother and Penelope would relax and enjoy the wedding for a start, and there was no doubt that it would be easier to meet Ben and Lisa if she wasn’t quite so obviously left on the shelf.

      ‘I’m not sure I would have the nerve to carry it off,’ she said doubtfully.

      Bella was having none of that. ‘Of course you would,’ she said briskly. ‘Now, the first thing is for you to start dropping a few hints to your mother that you’ve met someone special, and then we’ve just got to find you a man and get him primed up with your story.’

      ‘I don’t know …’ said Phoebe feebly, half dazzled and half terrified by the way Bella and Kate were sweeping her along on the tide of their enthusiasm.

      They were always doing this, pushing her into doing things and then holding up their hands in innocence when the said things turned out to be a terrible mistake.

      The colour of the bathroom paint—a lurid pink they had assured her would look fantastic—was a case in point.

      Ignoring her feeble attempts to come up with some sensible objections—Phoebe was sure there had to be thousands, if she could only think of them—Kate and Bella were discussing how best to track down a reputable escort agency.

      ‘I suppose we could try the obvious and look in the Yellow Pages,’ said Bella eventually. ‘Where are they, anyway?’

      She started hunting through the pile of clutter on the table. ‘I’m sure I saw them here the other day. God, we must tidy up soon, I can’t find anything—oh, that’s where my glove is!’ She fished it out triumphantly and tossed it onto the sofa, where it promptly slipped down out of sight once more.

      ‘Aha!’ she cried, spotting the directory, dragging it free of a welter of paper and beginning to flick through it without much system. ‘What do I look under? A for agency or E for escorts?’

      ‘Hold on,’ said Kate slowly. ‘I’ve got a better idea.’

      Bella looked sceptical. ‘Not another of your elaborate fantasies?’

      ‘No, no, this is so simple and so obvious I don’t know why neither of you thought of it,’ she insisted. ‘Why go through an agency when we’ve got the perfect candidate living right here in the house?’

      ‘Who?’

      ‘Gib, of course!’

      Kate sat back and beamed, delighted with her own brilliance.

       ‘Gib?’

      The other two stared at Phoebe’s outraged tone. ‘I never knew you could do such a good Lady Bracknell impression!’ said Bella, diverted.

      Phoebe shot her a look. ‘I’m not asking Gib!’

      ‘Why not? You’ve got to admit, he’s incredibly attractive.’

      ‘He’s not that special,’ she protested, unwilling to admit anything of the kind.

      ‘Oh, come on, Phoebe!’ Kate rolled her eyes in disbelief. ‘He’s gorgeous, and you know it!’

      Phoebe’s mouth set in a stubborn line. ‘He’s too pleased with himself,’ she said, ‘and I’m sure he must wear contact lenses. Nobody has eyes that blue!’

      ‘Don’t be silly, of course they’re real,’ said Kate. ‘You’re not doing much of a job of not finding him attractive if the only thing you can think of to say is that his eyes are too blue!’

      ‘I can see that he’s quite good-looking,’ Phoebe allowed grudgingly. ‘I just think he would be more attractive if he didn’t know it.’

      Kate shook her head. ‘I don’t understand why you don’t like him,’ she said, puzzled. ‘I think he’s great. He’s good fun, he’s easy to talk to, he does his bit around the house, and he doesn’t roll his eyes at the mess or insist on correcting you if you say it’s about five hundred miles to somewhere when in fact he knows it’s four hundred and ninety-seven.’

      ‘Well, don’t you think that’s a bit fishy?’ countered Phoebe. ‘He’s just a little too perfect, if you ask me. Why hasn’t he got a girlfriend if he’s that wonderful?’

      ‘Maybe he’s gay,’ said Bella dubiously.

      ‘He’s definitely not that.’ Phoebe’s voice held a tart edge as she thought of the way Gib flirted with everyone from the plump checkout woman at the supermarket, to the elderly lady who lived next door and the newsagent’s shy wife. Flirtation obviously came as naturally as breathing to him, an automatic response to any female that crossed his path.

      Except her, of course. He never flirted with her.

      ‘I’d prefer him if he was,’ she said.

      ‘I don’t think he’s gay either,’ said Kate. ‘Maybe he’s got a broken heart like the rest of us,’ she added with a sigh.

      ‘He’s doing a good job of concealing it, then,’ said Phoebe, unconvinced. ‘He’s always smiling, even when he’s not.’

      They blinked at her curiously. ‘What?’

      ‘You know.’ Too late, she heard how obscure she sounded.

      ‘No.’

      ‘Yes, you do,’ she insisted, a little embarrassed now. ‘Even when he’s got a perfectly straight face, you get the feeling he’s laughing at you.’

      ‘Phoebe, it’s called having a sense of humour,’ said Bella as if explaining to a child. ‘And how many men do we know who need one of those? If only they were all like Gib, life would be a lot easier!’

      Phoebe was beginning to get frustrated. Her friends just didn’t seem to be able to understand how jittery Gib made her feel.

      She picked morosely at the arm of her chair, trying to find the words to explain. ‘He’s just so vague about everything,’ was the best she could come up with. ‘We don’t really know anything about him, do we? I mean, what does he do all day? He talks about these unspecified projects of his, but as far as I can see he spends his entire time lounging around here.’

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