MILLIE'S FLING (43 page)

‘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.’

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 think 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.

This time—although her eyes didn’t so much as flicker in his direction—Millie just knew Hugh was watching her. Attempting an air of nonchalance—and overdoing it horribly, as usual—she glanced at her watch (why?), patted her handbag (pointless), fiddled with her hair (still there), and sauntered casually back to where Jed had abandoned their drinks.

There was a small empty table right in the corner, out of sight of the dance floor. Feeling safe, but still stupid, Millie sat down and started riffling through her bag. She had the number of a taxi firm in there somewhere. Jed had already explained that in view of the astounding amount of alcohol they planned on drinking tonight, they were leaving the car and cabbing it home. He’d offered to drop her off en route. But that wouldn’t be for hours yet, and she was ready to go now. Where was that card anyway? Unless it had decided to run off and abandon her, just like everyone else in this—

‘Millie.’

Her head jerked up, and there he was.

OH LORD, THOUGHT MILLIE, and there was her stomach, off again, squirming like that pit of snakes in
Indiana Jones
.

Praying that Hugh couldn’t actually
see
her stomach squirming, she mustered a bright, nonchalant smile and said, ‘Oh, hi, I didn’t know you were here.’

He look amused.

‘Oh, I think you did.’

‘I didn’t!’

‘Yes you did.’

This was ridiculous.

‘Okay.’ Millie gave him a humor-the-lunatic nod. ‘What makes you think I knew you were here?’

‘You weren’t looking at me. When you were on the dance floor just now, with that friend of yours.’ Hugh paused. ‘You were looking everywhere except at me. Which can only mean you’d spotted me earlier and were deliberately avoiding looking at me. Should you be drinking that, by the way?’ He nodded at her half-empty lager glass.

For an earth-tilting moment, Millie wondered if he thought she was pregnant.

‘It's allowed. I’m over eighteen.’

‘I saw you taking something earlier. A tablet.’ His tone was even. ‘And you gave one to your boyfriend.’

Millie smothered a grin. No wonder he sounded so disapproving.

‘And you thought it was Ecstasy. For heaven's sake, do I
look
ecstatic?’

‘The pair of you were dancing as if you were on drugs,’ Hugh pointed out reasonably.

‘Actually, we were on TicTacs.’ Millie took a gulp of her drink. ‘And I was only dancing like that to keep Jed company.’

‘Hmm. Shame your boyfriend couldn’t return the compliment. He's over by the bar chatting up some other girl now.’

‘Jed isn’t my boyfriend. Just a friend.’ Craning her neck, Millie was able to see Jed at the bar, making his long-awaited play for the nurse he’d secretly fancied for months. She was tall, with mad frizzy hair and a Julia Roberts mouth. ‘Anyway, what are you doing here? I mean, I know what you’re doing here,’ she amended, flapping her free hand, ‘but I wouldn’t have thought this was your kind of place.’

As the words came tumbling clumsily out, Millie realized she was being watched. It was her turn now. Through a gap in the crowd, Sooo Sad was staring across at them both, completely ignoring the man who was standing next to her whispering into her ear.

‘It isn’t. I was dragged here against my better judgment.’ Hugh followed the direction of Millie's gaze. ‘I’ve been designing a website for a new company. They opened for business last week and insisted I came out with them tonight to celebrate.’

‘Really? I’d heard you were working in a café these days.’ Millie's insides were still squirming but she felt she was doing a pretty good job of hiding it. Gosh, they were practically having a normal, polite conversation.