Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [45]
Against all the odds, Chloe felt her spirits lift a little. Just a notch.
`Too late. I think I've just instantly dismissed myself. Hello, Mrs Curtis. How are you?'
`In a very good mood. Is Bruce glaring at you?' Florence chuckled. `Don't worry. Put him on, I'll tell him not to sack you.'
`Bruce isn't here, I'm afraid.' (This was a lie; she wasn't afraid, she was glad.) `He's at a trade fair in Birmingham. Shall I ask him to phone you when he gets back?'
`Don't worry, it's not important. I'll give him a ring this evening. So,' said Florence, `how are you?'
`Oh, fine.' Another lie.
`Any customers in the shop?'
Puzzled, Chloe said, `No.'
`Good. In that case, stop being polite and tell me how you are really.'
A lump sprang into Chloe's throat. These were the first words of genuine kindness she had heard in weeks. And they were coming from Bruce's mother, a woman about whom she may have heard a great deal - not all of it good - but whom she had never even met.
`How am I really?' She felt hot tears prickling at the back of her eyes. `Not great.'
`I shouldn't imagine you are. Bruce told me the situation,' Florence said in her brisk, kindly way. `Tricky to say the least. For other people too,' she went on. `I mean, they must wonder which they're supposed to do when they see you, congratulate or commiserate.'
`I know.' Chloe sighed. `I've got myself into a bit of a muddle.'`So what's all this about instantly dismissing yourself?' Florence didn't miss a trick, thought Chloe.
`I've just broken a china ornament.'
Was it hideous?'
The pallid-faced country girl, minus her daffodil, gazed balefully up at her.
`Pretty hideous.'
`Probably a blessing then. Tell Bruce one of the customers did it.'
The lump in Chloe's throat threatened to expand. `I don't think he'd believe me.'
`Is he trying to sack you?'
`I think so.' Chloe's voice began to wobble. `Well, I can't really b-blame him.'
`How about the flat-hunting? Any joy yet?'
Joy, thought Chloe. When did I last have any joy?
Her nose began to run with the effort of holding back a torrent of tears. Scrabbling in her pocket for a tissue, she mumbled, `No… sorry, I've got a bit of a cold…'
Clamping her hand over the receiver just in time, Chloe let out a sob - an inelegant great honking sound like a grief-stricken goose. Tears slid down her face and dripped on to the bubble-wrap on the counter.
`Chloe, are you still there?'
`A customer's just come in, I'll have to g-go.' Chloe stumbled over the words and hung up.
Twenty minutes later the phone rang again.
`Find yourself a pen, write this down,' Florence instructed her. `Twenty-four Tredegar Gardens, Notting Hill.'
Chloe wondered what it was. The address of the nearest Samaritans, probably.
`Got that?' Florence said briskly. `Good. Come and see me after work.'
Chloe began to understand why Bruce called his mother a domineering old witch and a law unto herself.
`Um… actually, I've made appointments to view a couple of flats…'
`Come and see me after work,' Florence repeated. `I'll expect you at six o'clock.'
Chapter 19
Wheeling herself to the front door, Florence pulled it open. The girl on the doorstep was coatless, shivering and soaked to the skin. With her long blonde hair plastered to her head, stuck-together eyelashes and ankle-length blue cotton dress clinging to every curve, she looked like a voluptuous mermaid unceremoniously plucked from the sea.
`Mrs Curtis? Sorry I'm wet, it was sunny this morning so I didn't bother with a coat, I didn't think it was going to rain-'
`Even the weather's against you.' Reversing the chair, Florence waved her through. `Come in, Chloe. And call me Florence, for goodness' sake.'
Florence set great store by first impressions. It never took her longer than a few moments to decide whether or not she liked someone. She had done it with each of her