Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [82]
`Oh yes. And it changed Denzil's life forever.' Miranda rolled her eyes. `One date with me was all it took for Denzil to realise he was gay. To add insult to injury,he was expelled a year later for seducing the metalwork teacher.' She shrugged and held out her hands. `What can I tell you? The story of my life. This is how much luck I have with men.'
`Well,' said Chloe, `I know that feeling.'
Miranda watched her pull open the neck of her lime-green cotton sweatshirt, peer down at her stomach and reach for the round cushion on the chair behind her.
`Um… what are you doing?'
`I need to be bigger for next Sunday.'
Chloe shoved the cushion up under her sweatshirt, unfolded her legs and solemnly studied her reflection in the dressing-table mirror.
`I don't know.' Miranda was doubtful.
`Too much?'
`You look about fourteen months pregnant.'
The weird thing was, it actually suited Chloe. When you had blonde hair piled up with combs, and golden skin, and blue eyes that sparkled like the sea, Miranda realised, you could get away with almost anything, even stuffing a cushion the size of a sofa down your front.
Chloe thought she looked a fright, of course, but only because it was the automatic response of females everywhere to putting on weight. Plus, her self-confidence had taken a complete hammering when Greg had left.
Which couldn't help.
`That's better.' Miranda nodded approvingly when the big cushion was swapped for her rolled-up denim shirt. `Size-wise, anyway. I'm not so sure about those bits of collar showing through. Looks as if you're about to give birth to something with huge pointy ears.'
Chloe pulled out the shirt and tossed it back on to Miranda's waiting-to-be-ironed, hopefully-before-Christmas pile.
`I can't wait for next Sunday. God, I hope Greg buys himself a really expensive new suit.' She looked at Miranda. `Nothing can go wrong, can it?'
`Nothing.' Miranda broke into a grin; she was looking forward to it too. `Just so long as he doesn't go down with mumps.'
`Flo? Dancing Queen, is that you?'
Florence, who had been wrestling with the Telegraph crossword, lit up at the sound of Tom Barrett's gravelly voice.
`Tom, you wicked old man! Are you ringing to tell me the date of the wedding? Hang on, give me a hand with this stinking crossword first. Attempt to hide donkeys in mountain slope before noon, eleven letters, something c, something e, something something something-'
`Haven't the foggiest, but I've got one for you. Old man abandoned by nubile young lassie-'
`Oh, Tom, no,' Florence exclaimed, cottoning on at once. `Not Maria. Don't tell me she's dumped you.'
Tom chuckled at her dismay.
`Well, it was pretty mutual. Maria's a sweet girl, the sex was great, but the novelty soon wears off. All she wanted to do was watch Home and Away and bloody Neighbours. She speaks broken English with an Australian accent. Oh, it was fun while it lasted, Flo, but it wasn't love. She moved out last week, and the relief…'
Florence relaxed. He certainly didn't sound heartbroken. `Where is she now, gone back to Thailand?'
`God, no! Moved in with the fellow next door.' Tom barked with laughter. `Handy, really. She pops round every evening with a hot meal for me. Even gives me the odd massage if my back's playing up.'
`Humph,' said Florence. `Being fond of Neighbours is one thing, but isn't that taking it a bit far?'
`No ill feelings,' Tom pronounced cheerfully. `It didn't work out, that's all. And I'm keeping myself busy, still playing golf… just joined a local theatre group, matter of fact. Great fun.'
He and Louisa had always been keen on amateur dramatics, Florence recalled. Acting had been their great passion. It was something else Tom had given up when his wife had died.
`I'll never forget that production you put on in Malta.' As she spoke, the germ of an idea began to unfold. `You were a fine Professor Higgins.'
`I had a fine Eliza,' Tom replied fondly, remembering Louisa. `And there's something else I haven't forgotten about that show.' His tone grew stern. `You fell asleep.'