Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [73]
`I don't believe this, I just can't believe it,' Miranda wailed, reaching for her champagne glass. Glugging the contents like water, she closed her eyes, opened them again and peered around the edge of the damask curtain. But with Chloe leaning over her shoulder, there was no way in the world it could all be a terrible mistake.
That was definitely Greg climbing into his car.
Her Greg.
And Chloe's Greg.
Miranda felt sick. It was like discovering that the man of your dreams was a puppy murderer in his spare time.
Bev, taller than either of them, stood behind Miranda and Chloe and hissed, `Bastard,' as Greg's car pulled away. She put an arm around each of them and shook her head. `I don't know which of you to feel more sorry for.'
Chloe swivelled round, gazing at her in astonishment. `You don't have to feel sorry for me!'
`Nor me,' Miranda squealed, batting Bev's sympathetic hand off her shoulder. She was quivering, her spiky hair practically standing on end.
`But you must be upset,' Bev protested, taken aback.
`Upset? UPSET? I'm not upset,' bellowed Miranda, `I'm bloody furious! He's a lying, cheating bastard and I'm just glad I found out now, before… before… Jesus, how could he do this?'
She had a terrible urge to kick holes in the wall, demolish a couple of bookcases, wrench Florence' s expensive curtains down from their poles. The bit about not being upset wasn't true, of course, but those namby-pamby feelings would just have to wait their turn. Miranda took a deep, shuddery breath. Right now the anger was uppermost in her mind. In fact she was probably so angry she could explode.
`You never told us your husband's name was Greg.' She turned to Chloe in disbelief. `All this time and you never even mentioned his name.'
`Neither did you! You didn't tell me your boyfriend's name was Greg. Oh, crikey,' Chloe gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. `Are you the reason he left me?'
This was too much, this was too horrible for words. Miranda' s stomach churned like a cement mixer in freefall.
`When did he leave you? Bev, what was the date of that party… oh God, when did we meet Adrian and Greg?' `You met Adrian too…?'
`It was a charity cocktail party,' Miranda jabbered on. `Florence gave us her tickets. Daisy Schofield was meant to be there, but she didn't turn up.'
Chloe twigged.
`Bruce had tickets as well, but he couldn't make it so he passed them on to me. I wondered where they'd gone.'
Bev had been busy riffling through the diary she carried with her at all times in case she was ever unexpectedly asked out. Finding what she was searching for, she looked up.
`April the twenty-third.'
`Bruce's wedding anniversary,' Florence remembered with a nod.
`We were meant to be going to that party together. Except,' Chloe said resignedly, `Greg had gone by then.'
`So he went on his own and met Miranda instead.' Florence snorted with disgust. `That does it. Next time Elizabeth Turnbull tries to bulldoze me into buying tickets for some bloody charity cocktail party, I'll tie a knot in her neck.'
For Chloe, the relief was tremendous. Greg hadn't left her for Miranda.
`Next time I see Greg,' said Miranda, 'I'll tie a knot in more than his neck.'
Chloe suddenly stifled a giggle.
`Oh, excuse me! If we're talking about my ex-husband, are you sure it's long enough to tie a knot in?'
Glancing at each other, Miranda and Bev collapsed with laughter.`Anyone want another drink?' Fenn sounded resigned.
`I'm sorry, it's a girl thing,' Florence explained. `They have this way with words. Not for sensitive male ears.'
Thirteen years in the hairdressing business had more or less desensitised Fenn's ears. In that time, he felt, he had probably heard it all. To take offence now would be like a Status Quo freak objecting to the mewing of next door's kitten. But he was touched by Florence's concern.
`Why don't I ring the restaurant, let them know we're going to be late?' He paused. `Then, if you like, I could cut your hair.'
Miranda, still hopelessly agitated, had taken up smoking in a major way and was even messier at it