Guilty Pleasures Read Online Free PDF

‘Nice evening. See you out,’ he said. I was so surprised I nearly dropped the planter.
    He made it as far as the top of his steps, which were nowhere near as grand as the approach to the house itself, but imposing enough in their way. Then he thought there might be some cricket on Five – not that he liked it, but he hated Griff to outscore him on sport, which was easy, seeing that we had Sky and there was nowhere to pop a dish on his part of this Grade One listed pile. Not officially. I was sure he’d find a place for one soon, however. We waved each other a casual goodbye, no more, and I set off.
    It really was a nice evening, still warm with some low-flying birds scaring me half to death as they dived in front of the van. What if Robin had finished with his hospice call and fancied some company? I pulled over and reached for my mobile. But knowing him, even if his parishioner had died, he’d stay with the family until he thought he’d done all he could to ease their grief.
    In any case, by now Griff would be waiting for me. I put the van into gear and set off.
    â€˜Sweet child, what on earth have you been up to?’ On his return, much later than either of us had expected, Griff greeted me with horror.
    I’d changed from the pretty dress – which had responded well to a gentle hand-washing and was now on the washing line – into shorts and T-shirt.
    â€˜Your legs! Your poor hands!’
    â€˜Not as bad as they look, I promise. I just took a bit of a tumble on some gravel. I’ll tell you all about it when I’ve made you some tea. And when you’ve told me your news.’
    â€˜Not tea at this time of night. The caffeine . . . Something nice and cold and very alcoholic in the garden, so we can watch the swallows. My news,’ he added dramatically, casting his panama hat on to the sofa, ‘is that Miles has turned teetotal! Can you believe it? And he’d got it into the cotton-wool ball that passes in his case for a brain that we were to spend the afternoon shopping for a new outfit for him. It seems he’s decided to make an honest woman of that vile Caro. And nothing more than tea to sustain us through a trawl of department stores, since he’s too mean to go to Savile Row and Jermyn Street. Not too mean to buy a huge vulgar car, however, or to pay through the nose for parking. Not to mention the congestion charge. Remind me to send him something truly revolting for his wedding gift.’
    â€˜He and Caro must have everything by now, surely,’ I said. ‘So why not think out of the box, as they say, and buy him something quite different? A couple of goats, for instance. No. A loo! For somewhere in Africa, of course.’
    His face changed from disbelief to amusement. ‘A loo . . . A communal loo . . . Point me to the website, my sweet. But only when we’ve had our drink. A pitcher of Pimm’s, I should think . . .’ He caught my eye. ‘Very well, just a glass. But make it nice and strong, loved one.’
    We ate our supper in the garden, and at last I showed Griff my acquisitions. ‘I need proper valuations so that I can put anything I owe into the church fund,’ I said.
    â€˜Whatever happened to buy cheap, sell dear?’
    I blinked. Griff had always dinned into me that one didn’t diddle friends. I put the parrot into his hands first. On the other hand, he was always inclined be tetchy if he thought my father had seen something before he did.
    He pulled a face. ‘It’s charming, but you’ll need to find a collector to get back what you paid. Or a bird lover. Ah, this is what you suffered for, poor little thing.’ He could have been referring to me or the snuffbox. A look at his face said he didn’t think much of it, though he ran his finger carefully over the lid.
    â€˜Hard to tell – is this embossed work a hunting scene? But if you only paid