Read Online A Spring Affair by Milly Johnson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Milly Johnson
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for a stroke.
‘Either’s fine,’ said Skipman. ‘But, let’s say, cash is always slightly better.’
‘No worries,’ said Lou, who guessed he would say as much and had the money ready in her jeans pocket. ‘Although these days with all the fake fivers about, I wonder!’ she laughed.
They both instinctively looked down at the money she was holding out towards him.
‘Not that these are fake,’ she said quickly. ‘I didn’t mean…They’re all real…I think anyway. I wouldn’t know how to check. Oh, help!’
Skipman threw back his head and let loose a deep, gravelly laugh.
‘I’d set the dog on you if they were, but I don’t think he’d be much of a threat.’
Clooney was growling softly, looking very much as if he were trying to scratch an itch on his nose and not quite hitting the spot. He overbalanced with the effort, looking clumsily adorable.
‘Give us a call when you’ve filled it,’ he said. ‘Level to the top, please–no piling on.’
‘Saturday would be great,’ said Lou without hesitation.
‘Sure?’ asked Skipman, helping Clooney out with a good old scratch.
‘I’ll have it filled by then,’ said Lou decisively. ‘And can you deliver another one as soon as you can after that, please?’
‘I can deliver it Sunday, if you want. I’m a seven-day-a-week man!’
‘Perfect.’
‘You’re going to be a busy lady, I see, filling my skips in between printing out some more fake fivers to pay me with.’
My skips. So this must be Tom Broom himself then. He had a very curvy smile. Nice teeth. Natural.
Lou laughed. ‘Precisely. Not enough hours in the day for us forgers.’
‘Well, see you Saturday then.’ He hoisted Clooney into the cab and held up his hand in a masculine wave.
But Lou was already at work, hurling black binliners into the mini-skip and looking brightly forward to a whole afternoon of filling it with many more.
Chapter 9
Two days later, the small Accounts department surprised Lou with a big fresh cream cake bearing the number 100 in wax candle numbers accompanied by a rendition of the ‘Happy birthday to you, you were born in a zoo’ version of the song.
‘Very funny,’ laughed Lou and divided the cake between them. Nicola wasn’t there. She had taken an extended lunchbreak to go shopping for Sheffield’s best designer gear. She and Celia would have got on like a house on fire.
Karen gave her two envelopes, one of which was her card, which had must not be read until tomorrow written all over it, but the other she ordered Lou to open up there and then.
‘This is to say Happy Birthday from us all and to thank you for your support in our continuing fight against evil,’ said Karen.
‘Not a letter bomb, is it?’ asked Lou tentatively.
‘Do you think if we had a letter bomb we would have given it to you and not her ?’ said Zoe.
It wasn’t a letter bomb. It was a voucher for a colourand restyle at Anthony Fawkes, the trendiest hair salon in Barnsley.
‘We’ve fixed it for ten o’clock tomorrow. If you can’t make it, ring them now and say so, but it’s with Carlo,’ said Karen. ‘He’s an Italian. A drop-dead gorgeous Italian, as well. I couldn’t resist booking him.’
Karen knew all about Lou’s penchant for things Italian. A sexy Latino man running his fingers through her colleague’s hair would give her the best start to her day.
‘I’ll be there, I’m not doing anything else,’ said Lou. ‘And can I just say, that’s a fantastic present. Thanks, guys. I’m touched.’
‘We all wanted to get you something special,’ said Karen, without any of her customary joking.
Lou looked at the smiling crescent of people surrounding her and she suddenly felt very emotional, which led to Zoe having to give Lou one of her tissues for once, and Karen put her arm around her and gave her a big sisterly squeeze. She thought that Lou was worth a lot more than a hairdo and, if ever her numbers came up on the lottery, Lou was near the
‘Either’s fine,’ said Skipman. ‘But, let’s say, cash is always slightly better.’
‘No worries,’ said Lou, who guessed he would say as much and had the money ready in her jeans pocket. ‘Although these days with all the fake fivers about, I wonder!’ she laughed.
They both instinctively looked down at the money she was holding out towards him.
‘Not that these are fake,’ she said quickly. ‘I didn’t mean…They’re all real…I think anyway. I wouldn’t know how to check. Oh, help!’
Skipman threw back his head and let loose a deep, gravelly laugh.
‘I’d set the dog on you if they were, but I don’t think he’d be much of a threat.’
Clooney was growling softly, looking very much as if he were trying to scratch an itch on his nose and not quite hitting the spot. He overbalanced with the effort, looking clumsily adorable.
‘Give us a call when you’ve filled it,’ he said. ‘Level to the top, please–no piling on.’
‘Saturday would be great,’ said Lou without hesitation.
‘Sure?’ asked Skipman, helping Clooney out with a good old scratch.
‘I’ll have it filled by then,’ said Lou decisively. ‘And can you deliver another one as soon as you can after that, please?’
‘I can deliver it Sunday, if you want. I’m a seven-day-a-week man!’
‘Perfect.’
‘You’re going to be a busy lady, I see, filling my skips in between printing out some more fake fivers to pay me with.’
My skips. So this must be Tom Broom himself then. He had a very curvy smile. Nice teeth. Natural.
Lou laughed. ‘Precisely. Not enough hours in the day for us forgers.’
‘Well, see you Saturday then.’ He hoisted Clooney into the cab and held up his hand in a masculine wave.
But Lou was already at work, hurling black binliners into the mini-skip and looking brightly forward to a whole afternoon of filling it with many more.
Chapter 9
Two days later, the small Accounts department surprised Lou with a big fresh cream cake bearing the number 100 in wax candle numbers accompanied by a rendition of the ‘Happy birthday to you, you were born in a zoo’ version of the song.
‘Very funny,’ laughed Lou and divided the cake between them. Nicola wasn’t there. She had taken an extended lunchbreak to go shopping for Sheffield’s best designer gear. She and Celia would have got on like a house on fire.
Karen gave her two envelopes, one of which was her card, which had must not be read until tomorrow written all over it, but the other she ordered Lou to open up there and then.
‘This is to say Happy Birthday from us all and to thank you for your support in our continuing fight against evil,’ said Karen.
‘Not a letter bomb, is it?’ asked Lou tentatively.
‘Do you think if we had a letter bomb we would have given it to you and not her ?’ said Zoe.
It wasn’t a letter bomb. It was a voucher for a colourand restyle at Anthony Fawkes, the trendiest hair salon in Barnsley.
‘We’ve fixed it for ten o’clock tomorrow. If you can’t make it, ring them now and say so, but it’s with Carlo,’ said Karen. ‘He’s an Italian. A drop-dead gorgeous Italian, as well. I couldn’t resist booking him.’
Karen knew all about Lou’s penchant for things Italian. A sexy Latino man running his fingers through her colleague’s hair would give her the best start to her day.
‘I’ll be there, I’m not doing anything else,’ said Lou. ‘And can I just say, that’s a fantastic present. Thanks, guys. I’m touched.’
‘We all wanted to get you something special,’ said Karen, without any of her customary joking.
Lou looked at the smiling crescent of people surrounding her and she suddenly felt very emotional, which led to Zoe having to give Lou one of her tissues for once, and Karen put her arm around her and gave her a big sisterly squeeze. She thought that Lou was worth a lot more than a hairdo and, if ever her numbers came up on the lottery, Lou was near the
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