Valentine Present and Other Diabolical Liberties Read Online Free PDF Page A

just a little too handsome if there could be such a thing. I need to come to these kinds of weddings more often. His sensuous eyes sparkle and I feel my legs weaken. Shame about his arrogance, which seems to emanate from him even more than his aftershave. His full mouth widens in a smile and he clasps my hand in his. He is immaculately dressed and I know for certain that his clothes aren’t off the peg from the local charity shop. I self-consciously pull the strap of my dress back onto my shoulder and check the diamante slide is still in place.
          ‘Hello, I’m Hamilton Lancaster,’ he says in a manner that presumes I already knew that. I can’t say I do, although the name sounds vaguely familiar even if it does sound like a cigar.
          ‘The Hamilton Lancaster,’ Alistair yells, wagging a finger at me.
    Who the bonking hell is Hamilton Lancaster when he’s at home?
          ‘He’s only one of the richest men in England,’ Fiona whispers in my ear.
          ‘An honour to meet you Mr Lancaster, I am pr-pr-pr-pr-pr- …’ says Alistair.
          ‘A prick,’ whispers Fiona.
          ‘Privileged,’ gasps Alistair eventually.
    I stifle a giggle and Fiona slurps some wine.
          ‘Thank you, but …’
          ‘I f-f-f-follow all that you do. I’d like to start my own b-b-b- …’
          ‘Brothel?’ mumbles Fiona.
          ‘Business,’ he blurts out, grabbing an orange juice.
          ‘Faggot?’ says a waiter, leaning over Alistair.
    Alistair blanches.
          ‘How d-d-d- …’
          ‘Divine,’ finishes Fiona.
          ‘Dare you,’ explodes Alistair.
          ‘Or traditional Haggis sir?’
          ‘He’ll have the faggot,’ laughs Fiona.
    I realise I am still holding on to the Hamilton Lancaster’s hand.
          ‘Hi, I’m the Harriet Lawson,’ I say.
          ‘That’s some grip you have there,’ he says, pulling his hand away.
          ‘So, what do you do Harriet?’
    Shit. I consider lying but change my mind.
          ‘I work in a laundrette,’ I say proudly.
          ‘But she’s studying health and social care. She wants to work with the underprivileged,’ slurs Fiona.
          ‘Because it will make her feel more at home,’ Alistair smirks.
          ‘A laundrette?’ he repeats, making it sound like a strip club.
          ‘That’s right,’ I reply primly, dropping my serviette into my lap.
    He nods thoughtfully.
          ‘How long have you owned a laundrette?’
    Alistair scoffs.
          ‘Harriet doesn’t own her own b-b-brain, let alone anything else.’
          ‘Oh b-b-b-bugger off,’ I snap.
          ‘Do you want a Valium?’ Fiona asks.
          ‘No, I don’t,’ I fume, wiping my mouth with a serviette. ‘I don’t own the laundrette. Meet the poorest woman in England. I don’t own anything actually. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth like you. I expect you own half the country if you’re anything like that Richard Branson bloke. Is Hamilton your real name?’
          ‘I’m afraid it is, and I suppose I am a bit like that Branson bloke but without the balloon.’
          ‘Your ego is inflated enough is it?’
          ‘Christ,’ moans Alistair. ‘She’s a bl-bl-bloody embarrassment.’
          ‘It could always do with a bit more inflating if you’re offering,’ Hamilton says seductively. ‘But you may find me a little out of your league.’
    What a rotter, trying to make me feel stupid. I move my chair towards the vicar and turn my head from Hamilton Lancaster. I hate people who think they are better than everyone else. I’ll be happier when Julian gets here. I discreetly glance at my phone but there is still nothing from him. To think we’ve got to put up with this stink for hours. Alistair leans towards Hamilton and a button pops from his waistcoat and lands in Hamilton’s