by Jill Mansell
‘Fame at last!’ Millie was delighted. ‘Where did you see me?’
‘At the hospital. You were great. And all the more reason to rescue you,’ he declared. ‘After all, gorillas are an endangered species.’
‘I can’t just climb out of the toilet window.’ Millie shook her head. ‘His—’
‘Dad’s just died. I hadn’t forgotten.’ Drawing a mobile phone out of his jacket pocket, Jed dropped it into her unfastened bag. ‘I’m not completely insensitive, you know.’
‘I’m sorry.’
He flashed her a wicked grin.
‘Maybe you could tell him it’s nature’s way of pruning the tree of life.’
The next moment, like Superman, he was gone.
Except he wasn’t wearing his underpants over his trousers.
To pass the time, Millie went into the loo and redid her lipstick. The windows, she noticed, were too small to squeeze through anyway. Her bottom would have got stuck and she’d have been stranded there like a wolfhound wedged in a cat flap.
Her bag began to trill five minutes later, interrupting Richard’s in-depth lecture on water features just as he was getting to a really exciting bit. Joke.
‘Sorry about this. Excuse me.’ Reaching for the phone, Millie pressed it tight to her ear. ‘Yes, hello?’
‘We’re outside.’
‘What do you mean, where am I? I’m having dinner with a friend,’ Millie replied indignantly.
‘In a dirty, D-reg Toyota with a dented front wing.’
‘But I’m not supposed to be working tonight! Oh God!’ Millie exclaimed, the look on her face changing to one of horror, ‘I completely forgot!’
‘Oh dear me, that’ll never do,’ Jed tut-tutted.
‘So you’ve told them I’m on my way? Okay, okay. I’m at Vincenzo’s. Lucas, I’m so sorry about this… you’re where? Just around the corner? And you’ve got my costume in the car? That’s fantastic, okay, see you outside in thirty seconds. And listen, I really really owe you one.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ said Jed cheerfully, before hanging up.
‘What’s happened?’ said Richard. As if a five-year-old couldn’t have worked it out.
‘I can’t believe it.’ Millie banged the side of her head. ‘I’m supposed to be doing a wedding reception tonight, in Truro. I wrote down all the details and forgot to transfer them to my diary. The mother of the bride just rang Lucas to find out why I hadn’t turned up. God, I’m such an idiot. And Lucas is on his way here now to pick me up… look, I’m sorry, I’m going to have to go.’ Shaking her head and reaching for her purse, Millie pulled out a twenty-pound note.
‘You don’t have to do that.’ Richard looked astonished.
I do, I do, because I’m running away from you!
‘Please. Let me.’ Hastily she squashed the money into his hand. ‘I’d rather pay my half, I’d feel terrible otherwise. Right, Lucas is probably here by now, I’d better shoot off! Bye!’
***
A piercing whistle from across the street rang out as Millie emerged from the restaurant.
‘This is like doing a bank job,’ Jed whooped as she ran over to the filthy silver Toyota. ‘I always wanted to be a getaway driver. Come on, jump in!’
Millie hesitated.
‘I’m not supposed to jump into cars with strange men.’
‘Oh that’s good, coming from the girl who earns a living impersonating a gorilla. Anyway, we’re not strange, we’re surgical registrars.’ Jed flashed his hospital ID card as he spoke. ‘What’s more, we’ve just rescued you from the gardener who’s about as much fun as compost. And you’ve still got my phone,’ he reminded her. ‘Still, it’s your call. We’re off to the Mandrake Club. If you want to come along, you’re more than welcome. But I have to warn you, in case you fancy me rotten, I never sleep with strange girls on the first night.’
Millie glanced back at the lit-up entrance to Vincenzo’s. Then she checked her watch. Ten-fifteen. If she went home now, she’d have to sit in the armchair while Hester and Nat canoodled together on the sofa.
Hopping into the back seat of the car—and landing on a stethoscope—Millie said, ‘The Mandrake sounds good to me.’
The club was packed and there wasn’t an inch of space on the dance floor, but that didn’t stop Jed and Warren—his co-conspirator—dragging Millie into the fray. Their enthusiasm knew no bounds and they danced like boisterous Labradors, until thirst and exhaustion drove them in the direction of the bar. As soon as they’d downed their pints of lager, they piled back onto the dance floor to trample on yet more people’s feet. Millie found herself being flung between the pair of them like a frisbee. It was fraught but it was fun. Jed and Warren weren’t out to impress anyone—just as well, really—they were simply enjoying themselves, making the most of their precious night off. Neither of them had allowed her to buy a single round of drinks. And—best of all—nobody had so much as mentioned gardening.
This is more like it, Millie thought, panting as she was hurled from Warren to Jed and back again—this time less like a frisbee, more like a grenade. Getting out and having fun, this is what I need to stop me thinking about…
Well, other stuff.
Other people.
Other people who shall remain nameless and who, no doubt, hadn’t wasted a moment of their precious time thinking about her.
What was his name again? Gosh, wasn’t that strange, she couldn’t remember.
‘Knackered!’ bellowed Warren in her ear. ‘Tell Jed it’s his round!’
Ker-plaaang! Millie spun across the dance floor and ricocheted off Jed’s broad chest.
‘Warren says it’s your round,’ she yelled above the music.
Jed lifted her up and spun her round like a top. When he lowered her to the ground Millie was forced to steady herself against his arms. Clutching her to his side, he grinned and steered her in the direction of the bar.
‘Ready for another pint? Down in one, mind. Last one to finish is a nancy.’
Millie’s bladder was at bursting point. The glasses of wine earlier plus three pints of lager in the last hour were making their presence felt.
‘Just a half,’ she pleaded.
‘A half?’ Jed’s eyebrows rose in dismay. ‘What are you, some kind of girl?’
‘And my name is Nancy.’ She gave his arm an apologetic squeeze. ‘What can I say? I’m a weak and feeble female, I can’t keep up.’
As the music died down for a moment, the phone in her bag began to ring again. Millie, who had forgotten she still had it, looked around to see where the noise was coming from.
Amused, Jed slid his arm casually around her waist and lifted it from her bag.
‘Yes? Hey, where are you lot? No, we’re at the Mandrake,’ he bawled above the resurgent thud of music. ‘Coming down? Great! See you in a bit.’ Switching off, he grinned at Millie. ‘The late shift have just come off duty. They’re on their way.’
‘Fine.’ Millie crossed her legs.
‘Look, can I ask you something? Um, it’s pretty personal.’
‘Go ahead. Only be quick,’ Millie said romantically, ‘because I’m desperate for a wee.’
Jed hesitated. Already flushed and perspiring from their recent exertions on the dance floor, he now turned a deeper shade of crimson.
‘The thing is, do you like me?’
Millie looked shocked. ‘Of course I like you! You rescued me, didn’t you? I was the damsel in distress and you were my heroic knight! Plus, you bought me loads of drinks, which always helps—’
‘I mean,’ Jed cut through her babbling, ‘do you fancy me?’
Millie fell silent.
‘You don’t, do you?’ He looked anxious.
‘Um… well, no.’
‘Brilliant.’ Jed heaved a sigh of relief and gave her shoulder a clumsy pat. ‘Phew. I mean, I was pretty sure you didn’t, but I thought I’d better double-check.’
His ears had by this time gone bright red. Grinning, because
it was actually pretty obvious, Millie said, ‘Why?’
Jed shrugged and looked bashful, resembling a gauche young farmer more than a dashing surgeon.
‘There’s this nurse I’m quite keen on, and she’s one of the crowd from the hospital on their way down. I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be upset if I—’
‘Had a crack at her,’ smirked Warren, having just joined them at the bar. ‘This is Jenny we’re talking about, I take it? He’s been psyching himself up for this for weeks.’
‘If you’re sure you don’t mind.’ Jed ignored him. ‘I mean we did drag you here. I don’t want you to feel—’
‘You big pillock, of course I don’t mind!’ Millie laughed at the expression on his face. ‘Go for it.’
Relieved, he planted a damp kiss on her forehead.
‘Cheers, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew when they get here. You never know, one of them might take your fancy,’ he added with a wink. ‘There’s Raoul, one of the orthopods, he’s a bit of a catch by all accounts.’
‘Thanks, but I’m really not looking for a… you know…’
‘Hey,’ Warren interrupted with a groan of impatience, ‘we’re losing valuable drinking time here.’ He gave Jed a hefty nudge. ‘Are you getting this round in or not? I need another drink.’
Millie, whose legs had by this time wound themselves around each other all the way down to her ankles, said, ‘And I need the loo. Back in a sec.’
Chapter 46
The air in the ladies’ was thick with cigarette smoke, hairspray, perfume, and gossip. Leaning against the cool tiled wall, waiting her turn, Millie closed her eyes and concentrated on the snatches of conversation buzzing around her. Basically, because anything was better than thinking how desperate she was for a wee.
‘… I’m telling you, it’s like kissing a camel.’
‘… Oh shit, one of my bra-fillers is missing… bloody thing must’ve fallen out on the dance floor.’
‘… How can he fancy her? The girl’s a walking bag of cellulite.’
‘… I’m telling you, he’s gorgeous. He can access my system any day.’
‘… We’ve got to find it, they cost forty quid in La Senza!’
‘… But I love him and he said he loved me and now he’s all over that fat cow and I just don’t know what I’m going to do-hoo-hooo…’
‘… He got it caught in her belly-button ring. They had to dial nine-nine-nine and be lifted on to the stretcher together.’
‘… His wife died last year.’
Millie’s eyes snapped open. Her toes stiffened. This last remark had come from a tall brunette over by the sinks, busy slapping powder on to her cheeks. Next to her, her dumpy friend was overdoing the lilac eyeshadow.
The door of the toilet cubicle opened. It was Millie’s turn to pee.
I’m overreacting, thought Millie. They could be talking about anyone, I need to pull myself together, I really do.
But she peed as slowly and quietly as she could, in order not to miss a word.
‘How d’you know?’
‘I asked him, dumbo! He was working in the café yesterday and Jerry was yakking on as usual about his girlfriend—God, that man is a complete wet lettuce—and I said, “So how about you? Do you have a girlfriend?” and he said “No,” and I thought, Yay. So I went, “Why not? What’s wrong with you—too ugly?” and he kind of smiled and went, “I think that’s probably it.” Then Jerry gave me a big kick and dragged me into the kitchen and hissed, “He was married, you idiot. His wife died last year.” And I was like, Ohmygod, that is sooo sad. That is, like, tragic.’
Millie, having finished her excruciatingly slow, silent wee, pulled the chain and emerged from the cubicle. Sooo Sad was now vigorously brushing her hair, flicking it back over her shoulders, and grimacing at herself in the mirror, making sure she didn’t have lipstick on her teeth.
‘Then again, tragic for him,’ she went on happily, ‘but luck-luck-lucky for me. I’m definitely going to have a crack at him tonight.’
‘Yeah.’ Dumbo sounded doubtful. ‘But how d’you know he fancies you?’
Sooo Sad snorted with derision.
‘Come on. Who wouldn’t fancy me?’
Dumbo, who was much less attractive and clearly jealous, said, ‘You might not be his type.’
Having adjusted her fluorescent pink bra strap and squirted breath freshener into her mouth, Sooo Sad stepped back to admire her reflection. Satisfied, she smiled and said, ‘I’m a girl, aren’t I? And a thirty-six double D. Of course I’m his type.’
Millie was none the wiser. They could have been talking about anyone. And since the object of their attention worked in a café, it was unlikely to be Hugh. But she was still seized by a terrible urge to launch herself at Sooo Sad, pin her against the sink, and scribble all over her face with eyebrow pencil.
She could definitely do with a Groucho Marx moustache.
Anyway, it wouldn’t be Hugh.
Damn, and she’d been doing so brilliantly earlier, not thinking about him. Practically not even being able to remember his name.
And if you believe that, you’ll believe anything.
Stomach lurching, Millie scrabbled around in her bag for her apricot lip gloss.
Just to be on the safe side.
Although of course, it wouldn’t be Hugh.
It was Hugh.
Spotting him at once, Millie realized she’d known, deep down, all along. Just from the predatory way Sooo Sad had been talking about him. Because, let’s face it, there might be plenty of other widowers in Newquay, but in all honesty, how many would a nubile twenty-something describe as gorgeous?
And there she was, talking to him now, having wasted no time and homed in like a heat-seeking missile.
A fountain of jealousy welled up inside Millie, lurking like a peeping Tom at the back of the club. Sooo Sad was standing inches away from him, leaning closer still as she murmured something in his ear then tossed back her long hair and laughed.
Hugh laughed too. The bastard.
What was he doing here anyway? This was a nightclub, a place where men went to pick up women and women went to pick up men. Why would Hugh want to come here? He wasn’t supposed to be interested in this kind of thing.
Bastard.
Her mouth dry, Millie watched him talking and smiling as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Sooo Sad was nodding and gesturing and angling her body provocatively towards his as she shifted from one spiky high-heel to the other. Her 36DD breasts spilt over the top of her minuscule, electric blue camisole and her legs, encased in microscopic white shorts, were endless.
Glancing down at her own gooseberry-green jersey dress, Millie felt like a bowl of left-out, dried-up cat food. By contrast—and offering herself up on the proverbial plate—Sooo Sad was an enticing mound of plump, juicy prawns.
Millie’s blood curdled with envy. By now it wasn’t just her dress that was green. Sooo Sad was fluttering her long fingers against the front of Hugh’s dark blue shirt. It was practically foreplay. And he was standing there, letting her do it.
I know why he’s here tonight. Hugh tried me once and walked away. Actually, ran away. But now he’s being promised fresh prawns…
‘There you are! We thought you’d run out on us!’
Jed materialized through the haze of smoke like a genie, clutching two slopped-about pints of lager and perspiring more dramatically than ever. His shirt had come untucked and his hair was sticking up like dandelion fluff. Touched that he’d come in search of her, Millie smiled.
‘Is she here yet?’
‘Who, Madonna? Nah.’ He grinned and patted the pocket containing his mobile. ‘She rang and said she’d be late. I told her if she couldn’t be bothered to turn up on time, she could take a running jump.’
‘Well done you. Don’t take any nonsense from half-baked C-list celebrities.’ Millie nodded her approval. ‘How about your nurse?’
‘No sign so far. D’you thi
nk I smell of garlic?’
He was breathing anxiously into his cupped hand. Honestly, these medical types, brains as sharp as custard.
‘You ate spaghetti marinara in an Italian restaurant,’ Millie pointed out. ‘Of course you smell of garlic.’
‘Oh God.’
‘Here.’ Delving into her bag, she slid a couple of peppermint TicTacs into his hand—probably the equivalent of the mouse scratching the elephant’s ear, but every little helped. Jed took them and gave her shoulder a grateful squeeze as she popped a TicTac into her own mouth.
‘Thanks. Hey, “Chumbawumba”!’ His eyes lit up as the thumping beat started up. ‘I love this song!’
Millie winced but she had no choice; her pint glass was whisked from her grasp—again—and she was carted onto the dance floor. Happily bawling along to the song—‘I take a lager drink, And then a lager drink, And then a lager drink, And then a lager drink’—Jed bounced her around like a ping pong ball.
Agonizingly aware of Hugh’s presence less than ten feet away, Millie pretended she hadn’t seen him there. All she could do was be a good sport and act like she was having the time of her life. Then again, who was to say Hugh had even noticed her? Sooo Sad was still preening in front of him, doing her Pantene impression and giving him her undivided attention. Why would he even bother to glance at the lunatics pogoing across the dance floor?
‘Wa-hey, she’s here!’ yelled Jed, screeching to a halt. ‘Quick, got any more of those things?’
Rummaging in her bag once more, Millie found a loose TicTac in the side pocket—bit fluffy but still edible—and popped it into his mouth. Jed was all of a quiver, like an overgrown greyhound itching to race after a hare.
‘Off you go.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Don’t be daft. I need to sit down anyway. Best of luck.’
It was like firing a starting pistol. With a huge grin of relief— and a blast of garlicky-minty breath—Jed shot off in the direction of the bar and the girl of his dreams. Leaving her stranded alone in the middle of the seething dance floor.
Bugger, now I look as if I’ve been dumped.