MILLIE'S FLING Read Online Free PDF Page A

dirty on me! Tell me, does she know what you get up to when her back's turned?’
    Another pause.
    Then, ‘Is this Louisa you’re talking about?’
    ‘That's the one.’ Millie beamed at Hester in triumph. ‘Yep, that was her name, Louisa.’
    Hugh Emerson's voice changed in an instant. All the initial warmth had gone out of it. Now it was as if a freezer door had been blasted open.
    ‘Okay, I don’t know who the hell you are, or why you’re doing this. But for your information…’
    ‘I can’t hear,’ Hester whispered frantically as his voice dropped further still. Tugging at Millie's elbow she hissed, ‘I can’t hear a thing. What's going on?’
    CLUNNKKK. Millie slammed down the receiver. White-faced and appalled, she stared at Hester.
    ‘What? What?’
    Millie couldn’t speak, she was too busy cringing all over. Her skin was actually crawling with embarrassment.
    ‘Stop looking at me like that,’ Hester complained. ‘What did he say?’
    Millie felt sick. She hung her head in shame.
    ‘He and Louisa haven’t been together for the last eight months.’
    ‘Ha, what did I tell you? They split up because he was unfaithful to her.’
    ‘Not quite,’ said Millie. ‘They split up because she died.’
     
    Hester gave Millie a hug before she went on up to bed.
    ‘Oh come on, cheer up, you didn’t know she was dead.’
    Millie shook her head.
    ‘I’m such an idiot.’
    ‘It was only meant to be a joke,’ Hester consoled her.
    Oh yes, and what a great joke it had turned out to be.
    ‘I’m so ashamed. So ashamed.’
    ‘I’m just glad you had the sense to use Number Withheld,’ Hester said lightly. ‘At least he's not going to be able to track us down and come after us with a shotgun.’
    She went on up to bed but Millie stayed downstairs, hideously aware that she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She couldn’t stop thinking about the phone call. Every word was playing and replaying in her brain on an endless loop. The way Hugh Emerson's manner had changed so abruptly—and who could blame him?—sent shudders of mortification down her spine.
    Since there was no way in the world she could bring herself to hand the wallet in at the local police station, Millie scribbled a quick note on a blank (i.e. totally unincriminating) sheet of paper.
     
    Dear Hugh ,
    A million apologies for the phone call. We found your wallet and attempted a joke that went horribly wrong.
    Yours ,
    Bitterly Ashamed.
    P.S. Sorry, sorry, sorry…
    Before she could start agonizing over whether the note was sufficiently apologetic, Millie parcelled it up with the wallet and all its contents, wrote Hugh's address on the front and plastered her entire emergency stamp supply across the top of the parcel.
    At two o’clock in the morning, desperate to rid the house of evidence, she ran barefoot to the end of the road and shoveled the parcel into the postbox.

Chapter 4
    A WEEK LATER, HESTER reeled home from work in a state of shock.
    ‘You’re not going to believe this.’
    ‘Richard Branson came into the market, saw your stall, and hired you on the spot,’ Millie hazarded. Hester, who sold earrings of the cheap, cheerful, and sometimes downright eccentric kind, was never going to be voted Businesswoman of the Year. ‘He wants you to head up his new jewelry empire, Virgin Baubles.’
    ‘Oh ha ha. Guess again.’ This time, helpfully, Hester clutched both hands to her chest, miming palpitations.
    ‘You’re going to clean the windows and shampoo the carpet and do my share of the washing-up.’
    This was yet more merry banter; Millie didn’t seriously expect it to happen.
    ‘Pay attention, will you?’ Hester cried. ‘This is a swoon. A swoooon. See? Look at me.’ She rolled her eyes dramatically, like Rudolph Valentino. ‘I’m swooning here, like I’ve never swooned before.’
    ‘Okay. You just bumped into Jim Davidson in the street and he said, ‘“Ello there, ‘Ester my darlin,’ do us a favor wouldja, I’m covered