Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [65]
Miranda stuck out her tongue and kicked him, for good measure. Did he really think he was being amusing?
`I couldn't stand it a minute longer,' said Greg. `We all went out to a club earlier. You should have seen the rest of the team, chatting up anything in a skirt. All they care about is picking up some tart for the night and getting their leg over. I left them to it,' he went on. `That might be their idea of fun, but it isn't mine.'
`So you're on your way home now,' Miranda exclaimed. `Oh, this is brilliant! How long will it take you to get here?'
`I'll pick you up at eleven.' Greg sounded as if he were smiling. `Only if you want me to, of course.'
`I do want you to. Oh, I definitely want you to.' Miranda was beaming too, she couldn't help herself. She wished she could purr seductive sweet nothings into the phone but it was hard to purr seductively when you had such a blatantly amused audience.
`I love you,' said Greg.
`Mm. Um, me too.'He laughed.
`Difficult to talk?'
Across the table, Danny was playing an imaginary violin. `You could say that.'
`Okay, never mind. See you soon.'
`I sincerely hope that wasn't Richard Branson,' said Danny when she had hung up.
`I don't need a loan any more.' Miranda shot him a sweet, couldn't-care-less smile. `I'm out, bankrupt. You three can carry on without me. And you,' she pointed a finger at him, `can apologise, if you like, for all that guff you gave me earlier about men saying they're away at sales conferences when they aren't.'
`I'm sorry. He's clearly mad about you.'
`He is,' said Miranda.
`He's a very lucky man.'
`Absolutely correct.'
Danny grinned, watching her uncross her legs and leap excitedly to her feet.
`So what's he got that I haven't? Oh, don't tell me, he's terrific in bed.'
Florence was by this time practically doubled up with laughter.
`Right again,' Miranda told him as she headed for the door. `That makes three out of three. Excellent. You could be a clairvoyant when you grow up.'
It was five past eleven.
Downstairs, Chloe could dimly hear Florence and Danny still battling it out across the Monopoly board, each of them determined to win.
Yawning, Chloe climbed into her new bed. It had been a long day and she was shattered. Four hours in the shop, then the trip to the antenatal clinic, followed by the move itself, not to mention the strain of keeping a straight face throughout Danny Delancey's bravura performance as Orlando.
The curled-up strip of photographic paper lay on the bedside table between her rackety old alarm clock and her reading lamp. Reaching for it, Chloe lay back against the pillows and gazed at the fuzzy ultrasound image of her baby.
The doctor had assured her that it was a baby, even though, in profile, it looked a lot like an exotic mushroom.
Chloe's eyes filled with tears of joy as she traced the outline of the head and stomach. To have actually watched the tiny heart beating frantically away on the screen, seen the birdlike legs stretch and kick…
Biting her lip, she remembered the hospital waiting room packed with hand-holding couples. All those husbands and boyfriends, actually looking forward to seeing their very own exotic mushrooms for the first time.
Oh, Greg, you stupid, selfish bastard, you don't know what you're missing, you really don't.
Chloe was still studying the miraculous black-and-white image when she heard the sound of a car drawing up outside, followed by a brief toot on the horn. Less than a second later, there was a wild flurry of activity in the next-door room. Cupboards and drawers were slammed shut, the radio switched off and the bedroom door closed.
She listened to Miranda, in high heels, clatter rapturously down the stairs, call goodnight to Florence and bang the front door behind her. Suddenly tempted to sneak out of bed andpeer out of the window, Chloe threw back the duvet. The next moment, the car door slammed shut and the engine was revved up. Oh well, how much had she expected to see anyway, in pitch darkness?
Chloe hauled the duvet