Miranda's Big Mistake - Jill Mansell [90]
Well, ear. From this angle she could only see the left one. But the other one - Mr Right, Miranda thought with a stifled giggle - was probably just as attractive. In its own way.`What?' said Danny.
Better not tell him. He might think she was weird. `I feel like a ventriloquist's dummy.'
Danny waggled his fingers.
`Look, no hands.'
He was humouring her, Miranda realised. Being kind. Overall, she thought she preferred him bossy - at least that way she could fight back.
For a terrible second, she thought she was going to burst into tears again. As if her eyes weren't already swollen and piggy enough.
Danny, glimpsing her expression, gave her waist a brief, meant-to-be-sympathetic squeeze.
`Don't,' warned Miranda. Her lower lip trembled.
`It's okay to cry. If that's what you want to do, just go ahead,' Danny reassured her.
`Stop it. Please don't be nice to me.' She felt her eyes start to fill.
He gave her waist another squeeze. Miranda's ribcage began to shudder. Oh, the humiliation, this wasn't fair.
`Can't you just say something horrible?' She blurted the words out in desperation. `Be sarcastic? Give me a slap and tell me to grow up?'
In reply, Danny reached up and smoothed her ruffled hair. His dark eyes were serious. For the first time ever, he wasn't teasing her.
`Bastard,' muttered Miranda, `you're no help at all.'
Once she'd started, it was impossible to stop. This time she didn't have to pretend she was crying because of Florence and Tom. These tears, held back for too long, were all for herself.
Danny said nothing, he just held her and stroked her back and let the torrent of sobbing run its necessary course.
It felt like hours to Miranda, but when she finally hiccuped to a halt and glimpsed his watch as he wiped her eyes, she saw that it hadn't been that long at all. Less than ten minutes.
Still, she'd managed to honk and bawl her way through an entire loo roll, which was something. Quite an achievement, actually, in ten minutes.
`Better now?' said Danny at last.
Miranda nodded and blew her reddened nose. Reluctantly she muttered, `Am I supposed to say thank you now?'
`Don't let it trouble you.' He grinned at her. `Happy to help.'
Miranda swayed a bit on his lap. She felt lightheaded with the relief of getting all that pent-up emotion out of her system. Thanks to the amount of wine she had guzzled in a short space of time, she also needed, quite badly, to pee.
`Um, could you go now?'
Danny heaved a dramatic sigh.
`That's right, use me and toss me aside like an old Kleenex. Blub all over me, soak my shirt-'
`If you carry on much longer, it'll be more than your shirt that gets soaked,' said Miranda.
`Ah. Right.'
`Do I look terrible?' She blinked and rubbed her face, which felt salty and raw.
`Not your best, I have to say.'
`Oh God, and my make-up's in my bag, in the garden.' Danny tipped her off his lap and unlocked the cubicle door.`You stay here. I'll fetch your bag.'
`Could you call a cab?' Miranda sensed that her face was beyond repair. `I think I just want to go home.'
`I'll take you.'
`Make my excuses to everyone. Don't tell them I was crying,' she added hurriedly.
`I'll say you're as pissed as a parrot. Again.'
Miranda nodded; that was far less humiliating.
`Thanks.'
Bruce had to attend a trade fair in Bristol on Monday morning. He parked a short distance from Florence's house on Sunday afternoon, not particularly looking forward to seeing his mother but needing to hand the keys over to Chloe so that tomorrow morning she could open up the shop.
In the event, neither of them was in. The house was empty. Scribbling a note for Chloe, Bruce shovelled the bunch of keys through the letter-box and headed back to his car.
Before he could pull away, a green BMW drew up outside the house, reversing niftily into a space Bruce had considered earlier and rejected as too small. Irritated by the other driver's superior parking skills, he peered across to reassure