Mango Kisses Read Online Free PDF Page A

leave traces of blood on the sheets. Who knew what Kevin might suspect and accuse her of?
    Now she had an evening to fill. It was only just after nine. The TV mounted on a wall bracket opposite the bed had three channels, two with unwatchable flickery, grainy pictures and the third with a clear picture but no sound. Should have bought a magazine or a newspaper. She’d finished the novel she’d brought along and then she’d read the kissing college pamphlet in more detail. She’d learnt about the kiss of betrayal — the Judas kiss — the preoccupation of mediaeval knights for kissing dragons, the kiss of deliverance for Sleeping Beauty and for monsters: the Frog Prince, Beauty and the Beast. Kisses of transformation. Is that what she was hoping for?
    Perhaps she should walk back and see if the General Store was open. The pub would be. They may have newspapers. Tiffany slid off the bed and put on a clean pair of jeans, socks and sneakers, scrubbed her teeth, applied some lip-gloss and brushed her hair, checking for unwanted plant matter.
    Fleur was in reception as she passed. Fleur would be easier to deal with for her extra nights. She plastered on a big smile, went in and said, ‘Excuse me Fleur, I’d like to stay two extra nights, please. Sunday and Monday, if that’s all right?’
    Fleur beamed back and opened the ledger with a flourish, a large faux sapphire on her finger twinkled gaily in the light.
    ‘No problem at all, Miss Holland. I’m delighted you’re enjoying our humble little establishment.’
    ‘Thank you very much, I am. Birrigai is a beautiful spot. I don’t suppose you have a newspaper for sale?’
    Fleur’s overly reddened smile drooped comically. ‘No, alas, I don’t. I’m so sorry.’
    ‘That’s all right, I’ll take a walk to the pub and see what I can find. Thanks. Good night.’
    She turned to leave but Fleur called after her in a hesitant voice, which made her stop abruptly. ‘Miss Holland, I wonder...do forgive me for asking, but you’re such a stylish and elegant girl, I wonder...could you give me a little advice?’
    Tiffany’s mind scuttled for possible avenues in which she could offer Fleur advice. She couldn’t advise on bras, her own breasts were almost as flat as his. She’d be no help on hair either. What about hair removal? Shaving? Waxing? Good grief! Where was Marianne when she needed her?
    ‘I’ll try.’ She swallowed.
    Fleur had flushed an unbecoming deep purple beneath the heavily caked foundation. The garishly painted lips stretched in a nervous smile, which Tiffany returned with trepidation. The words came out in a self-conscious flood.
    ‘Would you help me with my make-up? Please? I’m self-taught and I think I’m a bit over the top on the eyes, and I’m not altogether sure if this colour lippy suits me. What do you think?’

    On his way to the kitchen Miles barely glanced at the pile of papers on the dining room table. They balanced precariously on top of the ledgers and the manila folders. Pretending the mess wasn’t there was an avoidance technique he’d developed in the hope that somehow the whole insurmountable problem would melt away. If he waited long enough the paper might disintegrate and the words become illegible. The dust and moths might take over and he could shovel the lot into the garbage bin.
    He spooned coffee into the plunger pot and stuck bread in the toaster. She hadn’t been on the beach this morning, or if she had he’d missed her. Maybe she’d left Birrigai. She hadn’t said how long she was staying. Miles leaned against the bench with his arms folded, staring sightlessly at the worn linoleum, which was supposed to look like cork tiles but didn’t.
    If she’d left, it meant she wasn’t the girl who signed up for Fiorella’s course after all and he’d committed himself tomorrow for nothing. Damn. He took a plate and a mug from the cupboard, finished making the coffee, opened the fridge and peered in. No marmalade. Double