Miranda's Big Mistake (13 page)

Chloe had an appointment at the hospital for an ultrasound scan on Friday afternoon. She was wondering how to break this unhappy news to Bruce—unhappy for Bruce, that is, not for her—when he burst into the shop on Wednesday morning with news of his own.

‘Well, we're finally being allowed to meet him.'

His chins wobbled with disapproval, his chest was puffed out like a penguin's. Time to get down to Argos and pick up one of their is-it-or-isn't-it? diamond rings, thought Chloe.

Aloud, she said, ‘Meet who?'

‘The gigolo, who else? On Friday.'

‘You mean Orlando?' Her eyes lit up with pleasure. ‘Oh, you'll like him, he's great!'

Bruce swiveled round en route to his office, his mouth clamped in a tight line.

‘You what? You mean you've met him already?'

‘He was there on Sunday.'

‘You didn't tell me any of this.' Bruce shook his head in disbelief.

‘You didn't ask.' Chloe put on a bewildered look. ‘I'm sorry, was I supposed to tell you?'

‘For crying out loud, he's a con man,' Bruce bellowed. ‘As soon as he's finished bleeding my mother dry—of
my
inheritance—he'll move on to the next wealthy widow…of
course
I want you to tell me about him!'

‘Well, I thought he was really nice,' said Chloe. ‘Charming, friendly…and he and Florence get on tremendously well together.'

‘Hah, I'll bet they do.'

‘He does seem to be very fond of her.'

Bruce shot Chloe a dark look.

‘He's a gigolo, for Christ's sake. It's his job to seem fond of her.'

‘But the thing is,' Chloe protested, ‘he was lovely to me too. And it's not as if I've got money coming out of my ears, is it? I'm hardly likely to buy him a Porsche—' She broke off in mid-sentence and looked away.

‘A Porsche,' Bruce exploded, ‘a bloody
Porsche
, is that what my stupid senile mother has gone and bought him?'

‘Not yet.' Chloe flapped her hands apologetically. ‘She's only thinking about it.'

‘Right. I'll have a few words with her about that.'

‘But you might be mistaken about him. Like I said just now, he seems to really like Florence, and he was
so
nice to me.'

‘He probably fancied you.' Bruce sounded irritated. ‘My mother's business. You were pleasure.' Abruptly a thought struck him. ‘Hey now, there's an idea! This could be just what we need. You can lure him away from Florence—'

‘Me! Oh, fine, easy, no problem,' Chloe spluttered. ‘I'll just be upfront about it, shall I? Ask him why he's wasting his time jetting around the world with some millionairess when he could be buggering off to Bognor instead with a penniless shop assistant who can't even spell Porsche and who, by the way, just happens to be three months pregnant.'

‘I'm not saying you have to run off with him into the sunset.' Bruce dismissed this suggestion with the scorn it deserved. ‘Up to the bedroom will do the trick. We just need to catch him out,' he went on, warming to his theme. ‘Show my mother what he's really like. And you could do that, no problem. You're moving in next weekend, he's already showing a bit of interest…what could be simpler? That'll bring Florence to her senses in no time. She might be stupid but she still has her pride. As soon as she finds out he's been cheating on her, she'll kick him out,' Bruce concluded triumphantly. ‘End of problem. Fantastic.'

Chloe inwardly marveled at his smugness.

‘I couldn't do that to Florence, I just couldn't.'

‘Cruel to be kind,' said Bruce, rubbing his hands.

‘But I'm pregnant. Don't you think that might…um, bother him?'

‘For pity's sake, the man's a gigolo! He wouldn't know a scruple if it jumped up and head-butted him! You're a pretty girl, Chloe. That's all men like him care about.'

‘Florence might blame me. She might kick
me
out,' Chloe protested.

Bruce considered this. Finally he spoke.

‘Look, if you manage to get rid of this…this Orlando,' his lip curled as he pronounced the ludicrous name, ‘I'll give you two thousand pounds.'

‘What?'

‘All right, three.'

‘Hang on a second,' began Chloe.

‘Okay, okay, five thousand.'

Bruce heaved a sigh. It was a lot of money, but what the hell, it would be worth it. And five grand was a small price to pay if it meant saving his inheritance.

‘I'm not sleeping with him,' Chloe said flatly.

Bruce looked resigned; somehow he had known she wouldn't.

‘Okay, just so long as you do enough to make my mother realize he's a waste of space.'

‘If he is,' Chloe reminded him. ‘He may not be.'

‘That's your trouble, you're too trusting.' What Bruce actually meant was gullible. Jesus, was it any wonder her husband had run off?

‘You shouldn't judge people until you've met them,' Chloe persisted. ‘You might like Orlando.'

‘Hmm.'

Maybe it was the pregnancy, thought Bruce, doing bizarre things to her brain.

‘Well, we'll find out on Friday,' she went on brightly. ‘That's when I'm moving in.'

Bruce perked up. This could be interesting.

‘I'll be able to see how he behaves towards you.'

‘Oh, that would have been brilliant. But I'll still be upstairs, ploughing through all my unpacking. Unless…' Chloe glanced hopefully across at him, ‘you could let me have the afternoon off?'

***

‘You look lovely.' Miranda was full of admiration. ‘Nice and sleazy.'

‘But subtle sleaze,' said Danny, standing back from Miranda's bedroom mirror and letting her blast away with the hairspray.

‘There, done.'

She bounced on to the bed, admiring her own handiwork.

They had settled on slicked-back hair and fake tan for that Latin-lover look, teamed with a navy blazer over a white polo shirt and precision-ironed jeans. The overall effect, together with the jewelry and aftershave, was just right.

‘Smile at me,' Miranda ordered.

Danny smiled, gigolo-style, oozing charm and sincerity and playful flirtation.

Somewhere in the depths of her rib cage, something went zinnggg. She shook her head, marveling at the effect.

‘Damn, you're good.'

‘I know. Scary, isn't it?' Reaching for her hand, he pressed a warm, lingering kiss on the tips of her fingers.

‘Oh dear,' Miranda murmured. ‘You could live to regret that.'

‘Why? Oh God—!'

Danny pulled a face as the terrible taste belatedly reached his tongue.

‘What did I just plaster all over your head?' Gleefully Miranda waved her hands at him, Al Jolson-style. ‘Hair gel.'

Danny watched her run a comb through her own gel-free hair. It was almost eight o'clock—Bruce and Verity would be here at any minute.

‘Not seeing the boyfriend this evening?'

The
boyfriend. Honestly, how derogatory was that?

‘He's away.' Miranda vigorously rubbed a bit of blusher into her cheeks, hoping she sounded like a girl who could take separations in her stride. Since Greg had left for Birmingham on Wednesday she had missed him dreadfully, had practically been reduced to counting the minutes, but tonight was the last night. By lunchtime tomorrow he would be back, hooray!

‘He's at an important sales conference,' she explained airily over her shoulder. ‘In Birmingham.'

Danny sounded amused.

‘You hope.'

‘What are you talking about? Of course he's at a sales conference.' Miranda swung round and glared at him.

‘How do you know? He could have another girlfriend tucked away somewhere.' Danny shrugged. ‘I'm not saying he
has
. It's possible, that's all.'

‘Why are you always doing this?' she demanded. ‘Does it give you some kind of thrill?'

He feigned innocence.

‘Not at all. I was just thinking of a piece I did in one of the Sundays last year, about bigamists. It just amazed me the way the wives had absolutely no idea what was going on.'

Miranda almost felt sorry for him. It couldn't be much fun having a nasty suspicious mind.

‘Look, just because you're a journalist you don't always have to think the worst of people,' she told him patiently. ‘Not everyone's a liar and a cheat, you know. I'm not, Florence isn't…and Greg isn't, either. He's honest and trustworthy and when he tells me he has to go to a sales conference in Birmingham, I believe him. So just shut up about it, okay?'

‘Okay. I'm sorry.' Danny flashed her an apologetic—well,
fairly
apologetic—smile. ‘I must not cast aspersions on Miranda's perfect boyfriend, I must not cast aspersions on Miranda's—'

‘Stop it!' Miranda howled, blushing and hurling the comb at him.

‘Must be true love.' He eyed her pink cheeks with enjoyment. ‘Bet you wish you hadn't put all that blusher on now.'

‘It's eight o'clock.' Miranda pushed him towards the door. ‘We'd better get a move on. Bruce and Verity aren't going to be wildly impressed if they arrive to find you locked away upstairs with me.'

Bruce wasn't wildly impressed with Orlando anyway. Miranda, keeping herself busy pouring drinks and passing around trays of Marks & Spencer hors d'oeuvres, could only watch and admire Danny's performance. He might be a pig, but when it came to playing the part of the
almost
totally devoted younger man, he was perfect.

Florence was good too, as the besotted older woman.

Even Chloe was doing her bit, exchanging meaningful looks with Danny whenever Florence's attention was diverted.

If Bruce looked as if he was chewing a lemon, thought Miranda, Verity looked as if she was chewing a lemon with a maggot in it.

‘So we thought a few weeks in Las Vegas first,' Danny was busy explaining to them, ‘then maybe fly on down to Miami.'

‘If we've got any money left by then,' Florence put in cheerfully.

Danny gave her hand a squeeze.

‘Don't worry, we will. I told you, we're going to bring each other luck.' His smile as he turned back to Bruce was warm. ‘And I'm on a winning streak at the moment, wouldn't you say? Meeting Flo has been the best thing that's happened to me in years.'

I'll bet it is, Bruce thought savagely, suppressing the urge to take a wild swing at him.

He cleared his throat. ‘So where did you two meet?'

‘The Grosvenor Casino. You know Flo, fond of a gamble.' Danny draped his arm casually around Florence's shoulder. ‘I've always been attracted to the kind of woman who isn't afraid to take risks. This is a fantastic color on you, by the way.' He paused to admire the crimson brocade of Florence's dress. ‘You're looking stunning tonight.'

Patting his hand, Florence leaned forward and stage-whispered to Verity, ‘Isn't he a dream? Can you imagine how wonderful it feels, after years of…nothing, to be showered with compliments?'

Verity couldn't, actually. The only times Bruce remarked on her appearance were when he pointed out that her nail polish was chipped or her bra straps were on show.

‘But doesn't she
deserve
compliments?' Danny protested. ‘I mean, forget she's your mother-in-law, just look at her! She's a beautiful woman, a fabulous, original human being. She has a mind of her own—'

‘Not to mention a fair amount of money,' Bruce blurted out before he could stop himself.

Florence glared at him.

‘Bruce!'

‘What?' Defiantly, he glared back. ‘I'm stating a fact. Aren't I allowed to mention that?'

Danny nodded understandingly.

‘It's all right, I'm not interested in Florence's money,' he assured Bruce.

‘So what's this I hear about a Porsche?'

Danny looked hurt.

‘I didn't ask Flo to buy me a Porsche. She offered.'

‘That's absolutely right. Anyway, we haven't bought it yet.' Florence rushed to his defence. ‘There's a waiting list.'

For the first time in his life, Bruce was grateful for a waiting list.

‘What kind of work do you do?' he demanded.

‘Oh, this and that.' Danny shrugged, unembarrassed. ‘I'm not really your nine-to-five type.'

As he smoothed back his hair, the fake diamond glittered in the light. Miranda saw Verity and Bruce look at it, then at each other.

‘I love that ring you're wearing,' she told Danny. ‘Where did you get it?'

‘This?' Danny raised his eyebrows and waggled his little finger. ‘A gift, from a dear friend of mine. Heavens, is that the time already? We should be ordering a cab.'

‘Where are you going?' said Bruce, startled.

‘Darling, the casino,' Florence exclaimed. ‘Didn't I mention it? We go every Friday!'

‘To celebrate our anniversary,' Danny chimed in. ‘That's when we met, you see, on a Friday night.'

‘It's great fun,' Florence told Verity and Bruce. ‘You'll come along, won't you? We'll have the most wonderful time, the four of us together.'

‘Why would we want to watch you throw your money away?' snapped Bruce. ‘More to the point, why would
you
want to throw it away?'

‘Because it's fun.' Calmly, Florence opened her bag and took out a lipstick. Pursing her lips, she dashed on a layer of glossy crimson to match her dress.

‘
Fun
…'

‘Bruce, lighten up. According to you,' Florence patiently reminded him, ‘playing golf is fun. And membership at that fancy club of yours doesn't come cheap, I'm sure. To each his own, darling. You hit little white balls into sandpits, I happen to prefer blackjack and roulette. Besides,' she went on as she squirted scent on to her wrists and throat, ‘we need to practice. We're in training for Vegas.'

‘Good God,' Bruce spluttered under his breath. He tipped back his head and drained his glass of Scotch, wincing as the ice cubes smacked into his front teeth.

‘How about it then, are you coming with us or not?' Danny's hand was hovering over the phone. ‘Because if it's a yes, we can all go in your car.'

The expression on Bruce's face reminded Miranda of a grenade having its pin slowly pulled out. She bit her lip and looked across at Florence, who was in turn gazing lovingly at Danny.

‘No we bloody well are not coming with you,' Bruce hissed through clenched teeth. He began to wag his finger at Danny. ‘And let me tell you something else—'

‘Bruce is tired, he's had a hard day,' Verity broke in at high speed before Bruce managed to instantly disinherit himself. ‘Actually, we should be getting back—we did promise the babysitter we wouldn't be late.'

‘It's only nine o'clock.' Florence looked dismayed.

‘Don't worry, I get the message,' said Danny. ‘I'm not stupid. You think I'm only interested in your mother for her money, don't you?' He gazed sadly at Bruce. ‘I'm not, though. I'm here because I care about her. I want to make her happy. I'm sorry if I don't earn enough to meet with your approval, but there's nothing I can do about that.'

‘My son finds it hard to understand that there are more important things in life than money,' Florence explained.

‘You,' Bruce jabbed a finger in her direction, ‘are going senile.'

‘I'd like it if we could be friends,' Danny sighed, ‘but I don't think he wants to be. Oh well, at least I tried. I've done my best.'

‘I know you have, darling.' Florence patted his hand. ‘Why don't you ring that cab company?'

‘And charge it to my mother's account,' snarled Bruce.

Florence shot him a look of reproach.

‘I'm sorry you feel this way, Bruce. Now, mustn't keep that babysitter waiting.'

‘Oh no, I haven't finished yet—'

‘Bruce, you're my son and I love you, but sometimes you have the manners of a hog.'

‘But—'

‘No, don't interrupt.' Out of the corner of her eye, Florence could see Miranda trying desperately not to laugh. ‘If you can't be charming to Orlando, I think you'd better go home.'