Free Thinking of You by Jill Mansell Page A

let’s get this lot upstairs.” Already busy unloading the MG’s tiny boot, Perry said, “Laurel, you take these. I’ll bring the rest of the bags.”
    â€œGive some to me.” Keen to help, Ginny held out her arms. “I can carry those.”
    Perry looked across at Laurel and said, “See what I mean? Didn’t I tell you how great she was?”
    Ginny flushed with pleasure. She’d done the right thing.
    Laurel nodded. “You did.”
    Once all the bags and cases had been taken up to the spare room, Ginny left them to it. In the kitchen she boiled the kettle and began making tea. After a couple of minutes, Perry rejoined her.
    â€œDon’t bother with tea.”
    â€œNo? Would you prefer coffee?”
    He shook his head and produced the bottle he’d been concealing behind his back.
    â€œWoo, champagne. On a Saturday morning!” And Veuve Cliquot at that, none of your old rubbish.
    â€œThe very best time to drink it. Quick, glasses,” said Perry as the cork rocketed out and bounced off the ceiling.
    â€œWell, cheers.” Ginny clinked her glass against his; he’d only filled two of the three she’d set out. “Isn’t Laurel having any?”
    â€œLaurel doesn’t drink. Cheers. Here’s to you.”
    If Gavin were here now, he would tell her that replying “here’s to both of us” would be flirty beyond belief. So Ginny didn’t; she just smiled instead and took a demure sip of the champagne. As they heard the sound of furniture being moved around in the bedroom overhead, she said, “What’s Laurel doing? Doesn’t she want to join us?”
    â€œShe’s fine, best to leave her to get on with it.” Perry’s eyes sparkled. “She’s just rearranging the room, getting her things unpacked. You know how it is.”
    â€œSorry?” Ginny thought she must have misheard.
    â€œWhat?”
    Or it had been a slip of the tongue. Of course, that was it. Ginny smiled. “You just said she was getting her things unpacked.”
    Perry nodded. “Yes.”
    OK, hang on, had she fallen into some kind of parallel universe here? Her heart beginning to thump unpleasantly, Ginny said, “But… why would she be unpacking her things? She isn’t the one moving in. I’ve rented the room to you.”
    Perry looked at her. “God, I’m sorry, is that what you thought? No, no, the room’s not for me. It’s for Laurel.”
    This couldn’t be happening.
    â€œBut you were the one who came to see it! You said it was just what you were looking for!” Her voice rising—and not in an I-fancy-you way—Ginny said, “You said it was perfect!”
    He blinked, nonplussed. “It is perfect. For Laurel.”
    Frantically, Ginny ran back through everything he’d told her. “No, hang on , you said your flat was too small…”
    â€œIt is too small. I mean, it’s all right for me on my own,” Perry explained, “but it’s definitely a squash for two. Laurel moved in six weeks ago and, to be honest, it’s been doing my head in.”
    Doing your head in! What do you suppose this is doing to my head? Still in a state of shock, Ginny repeated, “B-but I rented the room to you .”
    â€œI know you did. That’s right. I paid the deposit and I’ll be paying the rent,” said Perry. “No need to worry about that. I’ll set up a direct debit. Really, everything’s going to be fine.”
    Fine? How could it be? Ginny’s head was about to explode.
    â€œYou made me think it was you! You never once mentioned your sister. You knew I thought it was you.”
    Perry spread his arms. “Honestly, I didn’t.”
    â€œBut the whole point of interviewing people when they come to look at the room is so that you can decide whether you want to share your house with them!”
    â€œIs