Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [5]
`You mean… my rent's not going up?'
`Of course it isn't!'
`You aren't broke?'
`There hasn't been a stock market crash. You should try reading the paper occasionally,' Florence cackled, `then you'd know.'
Miranda breathed again.
`It's after midday,' she protested. `April Fools don't count after midday.'
`I didn't get a chance earlier. Anyway,' Florence's grin was unrepentant, `still worked, didn't it?'
`That's cheating,' grumbled Miranda.
With an air of complacency, Florence said, `Ah well, I'm allowed to cheat, I'm a batty old woman in a wheelchair. That means I can do what I want.'
Greg wasn't due home from work until eight. Feeling that an extra-special dinner was called for, Chloe marinaded the chicken breasts and mushrooms in garlic and olive oil, tossed the tiny new potatoes in butter and made sure there was enough blackcurrant sorbet in the freezer before running her bath.
She fastened her hair up with the diamantй clips Greg had bought her last Christmas and took out the red satin dress he had given her for her birthday. Since his favourite scent was Obsession - though she wasn't wild about it herself -she squished it on with abandon. She even dug out her old suspender belt and the sheer black stockings Greg was so keen on, determinedly ignoring the scratchiness of the lace around her waist.
Every little helped.
She hoped.
And let's face it, thought Chloe as she began - albeit shakily - on her make-up, tonight I'm going to need all the help I can get.
Twenty-five past eight.
Still no sign of Greg.
God, the one time I desperately need a drink, and I can't have one.
By eight thirty Chloe's nerves were in bits. When she heard the click of Greg's key in the front door, she catapulated out of her chair as if she'd been zapped with a cattle prod.
Appearing in the living room, loosening his tie, Greg let out a low whistle.
`I say, what's all this in aid of? Not our anniversary, is it?'
Chloe began to tremble. She'd overdone it. Now he was going to want to know right away why she'd made such an effort.
`I just felt like dressing up.'
She managed a bright smile. Telling Greg was going to be so much easier once he had a good meal and the best part of a bottle of wine inside him.
`Suspenders too.' He tilted his head, observing the telltale bumps beneath the tight red satin. `This is the kind of dressing up I like.'
Hmm, maybe dinner followed by sex, then tell him. That might be better.
That is, if Greg didn't fall asleep and start snoring like a rhino within six seconds of rolling off her.
It had been known to happen in the past.
`Is that garlic?' Greg sniffed the cooking smells wafting through from the kitchen. `I'd better give that a miss. Big meeting first thing tomorrow - don't want to knock the clients senseless.'
`Oh.' Chloe's face fell. She'd put garlic in everything. That meant dinner now consisted of blackcurrant sorbet.
`Is everything okay?' Sensing her anxiety, he moved towards her. `Sweetheart, you're shaking. Is something up?'
`I'd better turn the oven off.' Chloe heard her own voice echoing in her ears. It was like listening to someone else talking. She hadn't wanted to launch right in and say it, she needed time to gear herself up, run a few more practice lines through her head.
Then again, was that really going to make it any easier? `Chloe?' Greg's hands were on her bare shoulders, gently massaging them. `What is it?'
`Oh Greg, we're going to have a baby.'
There, she'd done it.
Blurted it out.
Like Bambi's legs collapsing on the ice - whoomph - Greg's hands slid off her shoulders.
`What?'
Another deep breath.
`A baby. We - we're going to have one.'
He took a step backwards.`You mean you're pregnant?'
With an effort, Chloe stopped her smile from wobbling, though her knees carried on regardless.
`Well, we didn't win one in a competition.'
`Is this a joke?'
`No! I wouldn't joke about something like this!'
Greg gave her an odd look. A not very encouraging one. `How long have you known?'
Her heart was flapping around in her chest. It felt as if it