Chapter Thirty
As I walked towards the bar, Milo looked my way. He raised one eyebrow. Polly broke off her conversation and came over.
‘Hello, again.’ She flashed a professional smile. ‘I recognise you.’ Her expression said it all:
This is the woman who thinks she’s wearing not one, but two telephone headpieces, and has imaginary conversations with precisely no one .
‘Hi,’ I beamed. I arranged my features into an expression that acknowledged her thoughts but also added a caveat:
Just humour me. I’m not bonkers – at least, not all the time.
‘What can I get you?’ she asked.
‘A hot chocolate with all the trimmings, please.’
‘Certainly.’
As she turned away to make the drink, Milo moved closer. I inwardly groaned. It appeared that Lord Rambo wasn’t with his master this evening. Perhaps the snooty chihuahua was at home, reading the newspaper and smoking his pipe.
‘Hello, again,’ said Milo. His eyes flickered with amusement. I braced myself, wondering what word play he was about to engage in. I didn’t have long to wait. ‘Is this the moment where I ask if you’re stalking me, or have we both exhausted that line of conversation?’
‘Good evening,’ I said formally. ‘And yes. I think we’re both done with that dialogue.’
His mouth twitched.
‘Does this mean that we’ll be making other… dialogue ?’
I shrugged.
‘No need. After all, I wouldn’t want to spoil your tête-à-tête with young Polly.’
‘Ooh, I detect an edge to your voice. Now why is that, Billie?’
I narrowed my eyes.
‘You know perfectly well that my name is Tilly.’
I’d neatly avoided his question regarding the edge to my voice. But he was right. I hadn’t meant to be irritated by his chit-chat with Polly, but some inner emotion had betrayed me.
I’d sounded jealous. Like a woman vying for a man’s attention while knowing the competition was too stiff. That she didn’t stand a chance. Now why should I feel like that? After all, I did not fancy Milo Soren.
I think you might have a tiny crush on him, Mum.
‘Hush,’ I muttered.
‘Woof,’ said Cindy.
‘Oh, not that again,’ said Milo in exasperation. ‘What is it with you two?’ He glanced down at Cindy. ‘Hush,’ he said.
She cocked her head to one side and gave him an enquiring look. Milo muttered something under his breath.
‘What was that?’ I said sharply. ‘Did you just call my dog a weirdo.’
‘No.’
‘Yes, you did.’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Yes, you did.’
‘Oh no I didn’t.’ His eyes were doing that glittery thing again. ‘Have we suddenly dropped into a panto? Don’t tell me,’ he guffawed. ‘Any moment now a pantomime horse will shuffle in. Polly will ask if it wants a pint, and the horse will reply, I wouldn’t mind two halves. ’
‘You’re so funny,’ I said sarcastically.
‘Thank you,’ said Milo, as if I’d paid him a great compliment. ‘And I did not call your dog a weirdo. Confession time. It was you I called a weirdo. You must admit, it is odd telling your dog to be quiet when she hadn’t made a sound.’
‘But she did make a sound,’ I countered. ‘It’s just that… that… I’m the only one who heard her.’
‘I see,’ said Milo dryly. ‘So, amongst your many talents, you also have bionic hearing.’
‘Yes,’ I said defiantly.
Wretched man. Why couldn’t he go and talk to someone else? Like one of those old boys over there – the one that looked like he might expire before finishing his pint.
Polly reappeared with the hot chocolate. As she set the cup down on the counter, she picked up on my icy vibe. She gave Milo a knowing look.
‘Are you winding up the customers, Milo?’ she teased. ‘Don’t let Cilla find out or she’ll have your guts for garters.’ Polly gave me a conspiratorial look. ‘Cilla is the pub landlady and a force to be reckoned with.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Good to know.’
‘Cash or card?’ asked Polly.
‘Oh, um, card, please,’ I said, reaching for my handbag.
My heart sank. Oh no. Such had been my haste to get out of Lisa’s maisonette, I’d come out without my purse.
I began delving into various pockets, feeling for loose change. There was none. My face flamed as Polly stood there, patiently waiting, Milo all the while looking on.
As I started to shed layers of clothing in my frantic search for some readies, his eyes widened at the woman giving herself a strip search on fast forward.
He put up a hand to stop me, before I got down to my smalls. His touch nearly rocketed me out of my undies.
‘How much is the drink, Poll?’ he asked.
‘Four pounds,’ she said.
‘Here.’ He handed her a fiver. ‘Keep the change.’
‘Thanks, darling.’
Darling.
Bloody woman.Bloody man.Bloody hot chocolate.
This was Lisa’s fault. Her and Juan and their scorching lust. I should never have accepted the invitation to sleep on her sofa. And I might as well lob some blame at my ex-husband too. After all, I wouldn’t be in this predicament if Robin had kept his dick in his trousers.
‘Are you okay?’ asked Polly looking concerned.
‘Never better,’ I grimaced.
‘Are you sure? Only… you seem to be hyperventilating.’
‘She’s fine,’ said Milo.
He picked up my hot chocolate. With his free hand, he steered me – as one might an old lady – to a couple of armchairs by the wood burner. Cindy quietly followed.
Are you okay, Mum?
I couldn’t answer. Milo’s touch had fired a line of zingers up my arm and into my brain. They were now exploding in a blast of stars and colour. I momentarily closed my eyes, desperately trying to ignore the effect he was having on me.
I’ll take that as a no, said Cindy.
I let out a low moan. This could not be happening to me.
‘Right, Tilly,’ said Milo, pushing me down. I collapsed into one of the chairs. He set my drink on a side table, before sitting opposite me. ‘How about you tell me what really brings you back to this village, especially at this time of night?’