Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [89]
`You're a pregnant lady. I do have some scruples, you know.'
`You amaze me,' said Chloe.
It was the sight of Florence and Tom dancing together that finally did it for Miranda. One minute she was sitting kicking her heels happily in the fountain and the next there was a
lump the size of the Rock of Gibraltar battling to burst out of her chest.
Shuffle, shuffle went Tom's feet, in perfect time with Florence's. He was smiling down at her, saying something and making her chuckle. And Florence was enjoying herself the look on her face said it all. With her new short hairstyle, her jaunty hat and flowing dress of violet silk splashed with crimson orchids, she looked fabulous. And so happy tha Miranda wanted to cry.
The next moment, to her horror, she realised that she actually was crying. Hot tears were spilling over on to he cheeks like lava out of a volcano and there was nothing she could do to stop them. Oh God, please don't let anyone se(me like this…
Tom Barrett, his snowy surplice billowing in the breeze was dancing with Bev. Chloe had been persuaded to take a twirl round the garden with Tony Vale, still in his Blue Brothers suit and glasses but now wearing, as a finishing touch, Florence's flower-bedecked velvet hat.
`She isn't inside,' said Danny. `I can't find her any where.'
Fenn frowned.
`She wouldn't have left without telling us. And her bag' still here.'
Leila, busy lighting up yet another cigarette, said vaguely `When I went to the loo earlier there was someone crying i one of the cubicles.'
Fenn stared at her.
`Was it Miranda?'
`How would I know? All I could see was her feet. Gree
nail polish with purple glitter.' Leila exhaled a stream of smoke and pulled a face. `I mean, totally passй.'
`Those were Miranda's totally passй toes,' Fenn said furiously. `Why didn't you tell us earlier?'
Leila looked amazed.
`You didn't ask.'
Chapter 37
It was a good job the lid of the loo seat was down. Otherwise Miranda, sitting cross-legged and hugging an empty bottle to her chest, would have fallen in.
`Come on, Miranda, I know it's you. Open the door this minute.'
It was Danny's voice. And he was sounding bossy.
Bossy bloody Danny Delancey, thought Miranda, tipping her head back and draining the last few lukewarm drops of wine. Well, he could be as bossy as he liked. She wasn't scared.
She wasn't about to open the door, either.
`Miranda.'
`Danny,' she mimicked.
`Still alive, then.' He sounded relieved. `Unlock the door, Miranda.' Pause. `We were worried about you.'
`No need to worry about me.' She shook her head with such vigour she almost slid off the wooden loo seat. Tut tut, very highly polished, exceedingly dangerous… I could sue the hotel for that. Regaining her balance, she glared at the door. `Anyway, you aren't allowed in here. This is the ladies' loo. And you're a man.'
`Possibly the nicest thing you've ever said to me.' Danny sounded amused. `Unlock the door, there's a good girl.'
`God,' grumbled Miranda. `Nag, nag, nag. Oh, and by the way… no, I won't.'
`Fine.'
Moments later, she let out a squeal as he dropped over the partition dividing her cubicle from the one next to it.
`Who do you think you are,' Miranda demanded indignantly, `Milk Tray man?'
`Who d'you think you are,' Danny countered, `the latest recruit to the Oliver Reed School of Drinking?'
Miranda tried to leap to her feet, but twenty minutes of sitting cross-legged on a loo seat had seized up her knees and ankles completely. Whimpering with pain, she was forced to hang on clumsily to Danny's arms for support as Florence had clung to Tom earlier.
`Ow, ow, my feet, ow-' yelped Miranda, her eyes screwed up in agony. The next second she felt herself being lifted up, swung round and plonked down again. The pain had stopped, though the soles of her feet still buzzed with pins and needles. Cautiously opening her eyes, she realised that her suspicions had been correct. Danny was now sitting on the toilet seat lid and she was sitting on Danny. His arms were around her, keeping her in place. She could smell his aftershave.