Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [81]
`Oh, it's so exciting.' Miranda's voice was croaky but otherwise she seemed cheerful enough. `You'll never guess!'
`Not your friend Bev. Don't tell me she's bulldozed some poor sod into marrying her at last.'
`No.' Miranda sounded hurt. `Oh Greg, don't say it like that, when we've just got engaged! You sound so anti-weddings.'
He grinned.
`Only when they involve saying "I do" to Bev. So who is it then?'
`Fenn and Leila. Next Sunday at the Salinger Hotel in Kensington. Can you imagine?' sighed Miranda. `They've only known each other a month, but they just couldn't wait. Isn't it the most romantic thing you ever heard?'
`Your boss is marrying Leila Monzani?' Greg marvelled. `Where's the actual service being held?'
`Right there in the hotel! Oh, and you should see the guest list,' Miranda exclaimed. `Celebrities flying in from all over the world… I mean, are there any famous people Fenn doesn't know?'
`And you've been invited,' said Greg, trying not to sound eaten up with envy. God, what he wouldn't give to go along to a wedding like that, to rub shoulders with rock stars and actors and supermodels… well, if he wore sixteen-inch platforms he could rub shoulders with supermodels…
In her bedroom, Miranda covered the receiver and mouthed, `Jealous,' at Chloe.
Chloe mouthed, `Daisy,' back at her.
`Oh yes, and Daisy Schofield's going to be there.' Enjoying herself immensely, Miranda pictured the expression on his face.
`Daisy Schofield,' Greg echoed, unable to hide his disappointment. This was so unfair.
Miranda paused. Timing, after all, was everything. `So you'll be able to meet her at long last.'
Greg digested these words.
`What?'
`You're invited too, dopey!'
`Really? Hey, great.'
He was grinning uncontrollably, Miranda could tell. And trying so hard to sound cool. Bless his heart.
Bastard.
`So don't forget, will you? Make a note of it in your diary. Midday, next Sunday. Wear your best suit. Oh,' she added as an afterthought, `and don't breathe a word about this to anyone. We're talking Top Secret here. Fenn and Leila want total privacy - the last thing they need is for the place to be hijacked by photographers.'
`Oh, well, yes, I can understand that. Of course,' said Greg in a trustworthy voice. `I won't blab. Um… who's going to be the best man?'
Miranda thought for a moment.
`Can't remember. I think Fenn said Mick.'
Mick?
Mick!
Deeply, deeply impressed, Greg swallowed and said, `Hucknall or Jagger?'
`Oh, one of them, I don't know,' Miranda replied carelessly. `Does it matter?'
Christ, no.
`I could get myself a new suit,' said Greg, determined to sound casual.
`A new suit?' Miranda waggled her eyebrows at Chloe. `That's an idea. Look, sorry to keep on, but Fenn's drummed it into all of us. You won't accidentally let slip about this to anyone, will you?'
The temptation was too great. Leaning across, Chloe listened to her husband's reassuring reply.
`I won't breathe a word,' she heard Greg say. `Darling, you know you can trust me.'
When she had hung up the phone, Miranda bounced off her bed. She rummaged amongst the tangle of necklaces in a blue china bowl on her dressing table.
`What?' said Chloe, sitting cross-legged on the carpet.
The copper pot-bellied pig, designed to be hung on a leather thong and worn as a choker, went sailing up into the air.
`He said he wouldn't breathe a word.' Miranda pointed. `See? A flying pig.'
There was a gentle thud as it landed on the rug next to Chloe. Picking the pig up, she ran her finger over its upturned snout.
`Where did you get this? He's brilliant.'
Actually, he was rather brilliant, Miranda modestly acknowledged. Ugly and cross-eyed and with one leg longer than the rest, but with bags of quirky character. • And hey, no one's perfect.
`I made him. Years ago, at school,' she told Chloe. `I joined the metalwork class because I was in love with this boy called Denzil and he said girls who did metalwork were great.'
`And did you end up going out with him?' Chloe gave up on her boring pelvic floor exercises. Eagerly she said,