Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [36]
Oh yes, that was definitely his white Rover pulling up under the streetlamp outside number forty-two.
Pulling her navy mac more tightly around her waist, Pamela marched purposefully towards the car.
`Two seconds,' Greg assured Miranda as he climbed out. `I know exactly where it is.'
`Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere.' Waving him off, Miranda turned up the volume on the stereo as U2 launched into `Sunday Bloody Sunday'. This was blissful, they even shared the same taste in music. Imagine how horrible it would be, meeting someone as perfect as Greg, the two of you getting on like a house on fire, and then discovering that while you were a U2 girl, he was a… well, a Des O'Connor man.
With her eyes closed and the music blasting out, Miranda neither saw nor heard the middle-aged woman in the tightly belted mac hiss the word `Whore!' at her through the car's closed window before storming up the front path.
In the kitchen, Greg stared in disbelief at the scrawled note Adrian had left propped up against a dirty coffee cup.
Warning! Your motherin-law was here looking for you and she's coming back later. If you want to hang on to your ging-gangs, hide the bread knife!
Cheers, Ade.
PS If you murder her and need to dispose of the body, use the black binliners under the sink.
It was all right for Adrian to joke about it, Greg thought, she wasn't his motherin-law. Then he went hot and cold; if they hadn't been late for the restaurant and Miranda had come in with him, she would have seen the damning note.
Crushing the gas bill into a ball, he threw it into the bin.
He liked Miranda a lot, too much to want to blow it on their first date. He certainly wasn't about to tell her he was married, with a pregnant wife. Not that that was his fault, Greg thought with renewed irritation, but some girls could be funny about things like that.
So much for tidying his bedroom earlier and changing the sheets. No way now was he going to risk inviting Miranda back later for a nightcap.
The sudden shrill of the doorbell made him jump. Jesus, who was that?
Miranda?Or the motherin-law from hell?
Feeling sick, Greg realised that either way, he couldn't not answer it.
Praying it was Miranda, he pulled open the front door. His head jerked back as Pamela Greening slapped him hard across the face.
`So that's why you left, is it?' Furiously she indicated the car behind her with Miranda inside. `That's why you abandoned my daughter? Well, let me tell you, I won't stand for it! You're going to face up to your responsibilities, my lad. Chloe needs her husband, that baby needs a father and you have a duty to-'
`Pamela, not now.'
Greg froze as over his motherin-law's shoulder he saw Miranda, in the passenger seat, observing the goings-on. This was a nightmare. He had to get out of here fast.
`Oh no you don't,' Pamela Greening yelled as he slammed the front door shut behind him and tried to move past her. `I came here to talk to you!'
`I don't need this.' Gritting his teeth, he forcibly removed her clawing hand from his arm. `I do not need this.' In the car, Miranda stared open-mouthed at the bizarre scene. Until a few seconds ago she had been oblivious to everything, drumming her heels and singing along with Bono. Only when the last stirring chords of the song had faded away had she opened her eyes and seen Greg remonstrating with a middle-aged woman on his doorstep. Now she watched him push past her and head back to the car. As he yanked open the driver's door, she heard the woman - hot on his heels - shout furiously, `You're not going to get away with this!'
`My God, what's going on?' squealed Miranda. `Just ignore her.'
`You won't ignore me! I'll make you sorry you ever-'
As the engine roared into life, Greg managed to wrench the door shut. The woman, her hands still scrabbling at the handle, leapt away as he stuck his foot down and screeched off down the road.
`Sorry about that.'
`Greg, who was she?' Miranda swivelled round in her seat, peering back at the