Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [70]
All the better to hit me over the head with, thought Miranda.
Aloud she said, `There's something I have to tell you first. It might make you hate me.'
`What?' Bev eyed her with suspicion. `If your Walkman's chewed up my Celine Dion tape-'
`It didn't,' Miranda put in hurriedly, glad that no one was around to overhear. Borrowing a Celine Dion tape - phew; now that was embarrassing.
`Okay, so it isn't that.' Bev visibly relaxed. `What is it then?'
`Greg.'
`Greg who?'
Oh, for heaven's sake…
`Greg Malone.' Agitatedly, Miranda twisted the silver bangle on her wrist. `Remember? The bloke you met at Elizabeth Turnbull's party and haven't stopped talking about for the last two months?'
`Oh, right.' Bev nodded. `That Greg.' She frowned. `I don't get it. What about him?'
Miranda felt herself going red.
`Um… he's who I've been seeing.'
She went redder.
And redder still, under Bev's incredulous gaze. `You mean…?'
`Yes! He's the one,' Miranda blurted out. `Oh God, I'm so sorry!'
`Well?' said Florence when Miranda finally reappeared in the kitchen doorway. `Want me to call the riot police? Did she go for you with the garden spade and call you terrible names?'
`She did, actually.' Miranda eyed with longing the tray of smoked salmon and cream cheese bagels. `Well, not the spade thing, but she called me a berk.'
`Is that all? Help yourself, by the way.' Florence nodded at the bagels. `They're for you.'
`A prize berk. A big wally. And a plonker,' said Miranda through a mouthful of smoked salmon. `She couldn't believe I'd been so scared of telling her.'
`All that fuss for nothing, then.' Florence reached for the tray and balanced it across her lap. `What did I tell you? That might be him now,' she went on as the doorbell rang out in the hall.
Miranda shook her head.
`It won't be, I'm not seeing him until tonight.' In deference to the Bev situation, this was what they had agreed.
Except, Miranda realised frustratedly, now that everything had been sorted out, Greg could have come along after all…
`You're right, it isn't,' said Florence, who had scooted across the kitchen and was peering out of the window. `It's that good-looking boss of yours. Long hair, though,' she tut-tutted. `Are you sure he's not gay?'
Miranda almost choked on her bagel.
`Of course he isn't gay. Fenn gets through supermodels like we get through Jaffa Cakes!'
`So why have you never made a play for him?' Florence's eyes glittered with mischief. `Rich, handsome, successful fellow like that - you could do a lot worse.'
Miranda found this idea comical in the extreme. It had simply never occurred to her to find Fenn attractive, or to have a crush on him. He was her employer and she was the lowly salon junior regarded - quite unfairly - by Fenn as a hopeless case.
Apart from anything else, it was hard to lust over someone who spent his life telling you off.
`Like I said, he goes for supermodels,' she patiently informed Florence. `If I was six feet tall and weighed less than six stone, I might stand a chance. At the moment,' she added by way of explanation, `he's going out with Leila Monzani.'
Florence cocked an eyebrow as she wheeled herself through to the hall to answer the door.
`Ah, but what if he wasn't?'
Once a meddler, always a meddler, thought Miranda.
`If he wasn't,' she raised her voice to make sure Florence heard, `I'd still be going out with Greg.'
Chapter 29
When Chloe arrived back from the shops, she found an impromptu champagne-and-bagels party in full swing in Florence's sitting room. Bev was there, and so was Fenn Lomax, whom of course she recognised but hadn't met before.
`Come on, have a drink, one little glass won't hurt,' Miranda urged, pouring her one and proudly showing off her new top. `What d'you think, isn't it great? Bev gave it to me!' She did an arms-up shimmy followed by a twirl, spilling a fair amount of Moлt on the way round.
Chloe admired the top, which was black, stretchy and semi-transparent, with strategically positioned red satin butterflies appliquйd across the chest.