Page 214 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2
Sharing a tender smile, they watched Sloan collapse his frame into a free chair while the smartly dressed member of staff placed their drinks on the table. She smiled politely and quickly left them to it. The staff were well-trained when it concerned the privacy of their guests.
Sipping their drinks, the three exchange small talk, Sloan conversed the most in his drunken state. Nathan made a show of glancing at his watch a few times, but it went unnoticed by the wildlygesticulating interloper. Bella graciously listened to Sloan’s ramblings, nodding along to his impassioned complaints of the dire state of the country and the obvious cause for it.
“I say deport them all.” Sloan remarked. “Bloody immigrants. They take, take, take. It’s disgusting to see how far our country has fallen. This open-door policy has destroyed England as we know it. Have you seen the news? It’s only going to get worse I tell you. At least we’re relatively safe from the masses, but for how much longer? I’ve actually thought about relocating.”
Nathan tossed back his drink, giving Bella an eloquent stare.
“Bradley married a foreigner, didn’t he? I heard they got divorced last month.” Sloan sneered then laughed. “Pretty little thing though, and snores like a trooper!”
Bella jerked in surprise, saying tartly, “She’s not a complete foreigner. Madison is actually English, not that it matters. We won’t be having this discussion, Sloan. It’s frankly none of your business and I’ve had quite enough of your loutish behaviour.”
“Bella,” Sloan tried for an apologetic voice, but failed. “We’re all friends here. It was a joke.”
Nathan ignored his wife’s angry words and slowly put his drink down, leaning forward he arched an eyebrow in Sloan’s direction. “And how wouldyouknow that?”
“Huh? Know what? About the divorce?” Sloan laughed out loud. “Bradley and I may not be as close friends as you two are, but we know the same people, Nathan.”
Nathan moved again, almost on the edge of his seat now. “How do you know she snores? How could you possibly know that, Sloan, mmm?”
Sloan spluttered for a moment. His cheeks, ruddy from the drink, were suddenly becoming pale. “Pardon? I never said-”
“You said she snores like a trooper,” Nathan dragged out coldly. “How the fuck would you know that?”
Sloan rubbed his forehead and avoided Nathan’s piercing glare as he gulped the rest of his drink down. Nathan got to his feet, towering over the drunk man who was now casting Bella worried looks. Bella’s eyes were wide with confusion as she also put her drink down.
“Answer the bloody question.” Nathan’s harsh demand drew Sloan’s gaze to his face. “How could you possibly know that?”
I missed certain things that went with being Mrs DuMont-Bradley. The weekly food hampers from Fortnum and Mason, which George would let me unpack while shaking his head at my eagerness to get to the sumptuous goodies. The fact someone else did my laundry and dry-cleaning errands. Cleaning? Ha! As Mrs DuMont-Bradley those things ‘magically’ got done before I ever felt theurgeto pick up a vacuum cleaner. Magically meant the cleaning service that came every couple of days whose employees always tidied my mess before I had a chance to do it myself.
I missed being able to forget about life’s tedious chores, to know someone else would take care of it, to know I had staff to sort menial crap out. I missed being chauffeured around, I even missed my hidden shadow of a bodyguard who never once smiled at me. I missed the trappings of a wealthy life…the shame. How had this happened? Things I had complained about, hated even; these were things I now missed. See? Money changes a person.
But the food, oh how I missed the food. There was always fresh food in the humungous fridge-freezer. Yummy food and nibbles. Food delivered from specialist stores under the rigid regime of Matt’s chef. Valerie, I even missed Valerie. Although during my stint as Mrs DuMont-Bradley I cooked quite a fair bit, Valerie still managed to earn her keep with culinary creations of delicious, mouth-watering, heavenly-
“What are you staring at in there?”
I looked over my shoulder. Gerrard walked through the open doorway of the canteen and continued over to my side. He peered into the small fridge with me.
“Nothing.” I grumbled. “There’s nothing good in here. Who ate my fruit salad? It had my name on it and someone ate it.”
Gerrard shrugged, turning sideways and about to back away. I grabbed the edge of his t-shirt and leaned in close. He jerked further to the side, observing me from startled eyes.
“You smell like pineapples and grapes.” I raised a threatening eyebrow at him to which he rolled his eyes and extricated his t-shirt from my tightly gripped fingers.
“I didn’t touch your poxy fruit salad.” Gerrard denied the theft before gently touching my tummy. “Hello in there.”
I smacked his hand away, grumpy and hungry. “Get stuffed. I’m not a doll. Why do people think they can invade my space and touch my stomach whenever they want?”
Gerrard stepped back and pulled out one of the chairs around the small table in the canteen. Gesturing to the seat, he smiled at me. He knew my previous outburst wasn’t meant for him. Yesterday, the aunt of a student noticed the bulge of my tummy and she boldly tried to cop a feel, smiling and cooing as she stretched her bony fingers out. Gloria had gone mental when she spotted my unease. My receptionist had a mouth on her sometimes. But I was grateful for her intercession and silently pledged to not be felt up by strangers in the future. Who knew what bad vibes they could be unwittingly rubbing on my stomach? Yeah, I was scared of germs and bad ju-ju. Sue me.
“I’ve got a Hoisin duck wrap in my bag.” he said.
My ears and shoulders perked up, my stomach growled noisily. “The one from Waitrose? Did you get it from Waitrose or Sainsbury? You know I love the one from Waitrose.”
Gerrard grinned and I held my hands out making grabby movements.
“Why isn’t it in the fridge?” I asked out of curiosity. Those wraps should be kept slightly chilled, they tasted better.
