MILLIE'S FLING (56 page)

The last record of the night was ‘Lady in Red’.

‘Thank God you aren’t wearing something red,’ said Tom. ‘That really would have been too kitsch for words.’

Poppy, whose heart was going nineteen to the dozen, didn’t tell him she had red knickers on.

She said, ‘I thought you’d left.’

‘I did. Then I came back. I had to.’ Tilting his head he murmured into her ear, ‘I want you to know I don’t make a habit of this. It isn’t some kind of bizarre hobby of mine, in case you were wondering.’

Over his shoulder Poppy saw Jen and one of the airline pilots cruising at low altitude towards them. Jen winked.

‘Watch what you’re doing with my future cousin-in-law,’ she instructed Tom. ‘By this time tomorrow she’ll be an old married woman. We’re under instruction to keep our eye on her tonight.’

This is awful, thought Poppy, beginning to panic as the song moved into its final chorus. Any minute now the night will be over, it’ll be time to leave. How can this be happening to me? I need more time—

In a low voice Tom said, ‘Will your friends miss you if we sneak out now?’

‘Of course they will.’ Close to despair Poppy felt her fingers dig helplessly into his arms. ‘Dina's already phoned for a cab to take us home.’

‘Okay, I’ll leave it up to you.’ He shook back a lock of curling dark hair, studying her face intently for a second. ‘Delgado's, that all-night café on Milton Street. You know the one, directly opposite the university?’

Poppy nodded, unable to speak.

‘I’ll wait there. Until three o’clock. If you want to see me, that's where I’ll be. If you don’t… well, you won’t turn up.’

‘This isn’t funny.’ Poppy realized she was trembling. ‘I’m not enjoying this. I’m hating it.’

‘You mean you wish you hadn’t met me?’ Just for a second Tom traced a finger lightly down the side of her quivering face. ‘Fine, if that's how you feel. If it's how you really feel. Go home. Get a good night's sleep. Carry on as if tonight never happened. Get married—’

‘Our taxi,’ Susie declared with a melodramatic flourish, ‘is waiting.’ She passed Poppy her handbag and began to steer her in the direction of the door. Glancing from Poppy to Tom and back again she chanted, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, your time is up. No more flirting, no more smoochy dances with handsome strangers, no more scribbling your phone number in Biro on the back of his hand and praying it doesn’t rain on the way home. The girl is no longer available. Tomorrow, she gets hitched.’

The journey from the center of Bristol back to Henbury at two in the morning normally took ten minutes. This time the trip was punctuated with a whole series of stops and starts.

It's worse than musical bloody chairs, thought Poppy, willing herself not to scream as Jen, spotting a still-open burger bar, begged the driver to pull up outside. Susie had already sent him on a convoluted tour of local cash dispensers in search of one that worked. If Dina announced that she needed to find yet another public loo, Poppy knew she would have a complete nervous
breakdown. At this rate it would be four o’clock before they even arrived home.

But they made it, finally. Dina, with her stressed bladder, was dropped off first. Then Susie, then Jen. Kissing each of them goodbye in turn, Poppy wondered how they would react if they knew what was racing through her mind. Jen was Rob's cousin, Dina his sister-in-law. Only an hour or so ago Susie had confided tipsily, ‘If I could meet and marry someone even half as nice as your Rob I’d be so happy.’

‘Edgerton Close is it, love?’ asked the taxi driver over his shoulder when only Poppy was left in the car.

Poppy looked at her watch for the fiftieth time. Quarter to three. She took a deep breath.

‘Delgado's, Milton Street. Opposite the university. Hurry, please.’

Delgado's was a trendy post-nightclub hangout popular with students and diehard clubbers alike. Poppy, who had visited it a few times in the past, knew its atmosphere to be far more of a draw than the food.

But with its white painted exterior and glossy dark blue shutters it certainly looked the part. On a night like tonight Poppy knew it would be even busier than usual, packed with people showing off their tans, making the most of the perfect weather while it lasted and pretending they weren’t in Bristol but in the south of France.

As her taxi drew up outside Poppy wondered just how stupid she would feel if she went inside and he wasn’t there. She looked again at her watch. One minute to three.

Then she saw him, sitting alone at one of the sought-after tables in the window. He was lounging back on his chair idly stirring sugar into an espresso and smoking a cigarette.

Poppy's pulse began to race. Twelve hours from now she was due to walk down the aisle of St Mary's church on her father's arm. Twelve and a bit hours from now she would become Poppy McBride, wife of Robert and mother—in due course—to three, maybe four little McBrides. It was all planned, right down to the middle names and the color of the wallpaper in the nursery. Rob was a great one for thinking ahead.

‘Here, love?’ The taxi driver was showing signs of restlessness. When Poppy still didn’t move he lit up a cigar and exhaled heavily, making smoke ricochet off the windscreen and into the back of the cab. This usually did the trick.

Poppy didn’t even notice. She saw Tom look at his own watch then gaze out of the window. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that if she stepped out of the taxi now her life would be changed drastically and forever.

The taxi driver shifted round in his seat to look at her. ‘Don’t tell me you’re dozing off back there.’

Hardly. Poppy, awash with adrenalin, wondered if she would ever sleep again. Her fingers crept towards the door handle.

‘Look, love,’ began the driver, ‘we can’t—’

‘Edgerton Close.’ Poppy blurted the words out, clenching her fists at her side and willing herself not to leap out of the cab. ‘Please.’

‘You mean back to Henbury?’ The driver stared at her in disbelief. ‘Are you sure about this?’

‘No, but do it anyway.’ She turned her face away from Delgado's and held her breath until the taxi reached the far end of Milton Street. It was no good; she couldn’t go through with it.

The bad news was, she didn’t think she could go through with the wedding either.

Available November 2009

About the Author

Jill Mansell lives with her partner and children in Bristol, and writes full time. Actually, that's not true; she watches TV, eats gum drops, admires the rugby players training in the sports field behind her house, and spends hours on the internet marveling at how many other writers have blogs. Only when she's
completely
run out of ways to procrastinate does she write.