Free A Spring Affair by Milly Johnson Page A

outfit.
    She handed over her gift voucher to the reception desk and gave Carlo a heavy tip. The fact that they didn’t try to coerce her into buying a cabinet full of essential hair products that she would have caved in and bought, knowing she would probably never use them, made her doubly keen to book a follow-up appointment. Obviously with Carlo.
    Lou had a pleasant mosey around town then and bought a very brave orange top and some bronzy copper jewellery, and a thrilling glossy lipstick that was guaranteed to stay on through dinner, drinks and a world war. It was a bright day but nippy, and so the treat of a hot coffee and a scone in the Edwardian Tea Rooms seemed very much in order. The scone was the size of a basketball and she slathered butter thickly on slices of it. That would keep her going until her romantic meal for two. Actually, it would probably keep her going until next January. She felt a buzz of excitement vibrate down her veins at the thought of the evening to come. It had been so long since she had gone out with Phil; she was looking forward to the ritual of dressing up in her new clothes and the delicious anticipation of the eating venue. Please make him take me to an Italian , she dared to ask the cosmos.
     
    The skip was still there when she got home, but by the time the kettle had boiled there was the beep-beep-beep of something very large reversing into the drive.
    ‘Hi there,’ called Lou, emerging from the front door as Tom Broom jumped down from the cab and started unrolling a huge net. She looked around the truck. ‘No dog?’
    ‘He’s in the cabin. He can be a bit of a pest. Not everyone likes seeing a hulking great beast bounding towards them. Or the dog either,’ he joked.
    ‘Oh.’ She couldn’t hide her disappointment.
    ‘What? You want him out?’
    ‘Well, if it’s no trouble,’ said Lou.
    ‘No trouble to me,’ said Tom and seconds later,Clooney was bounding towards Lou with his tail wagging a force-twelve draught.
    ‘Shall we see if we can get you a biscuit?’ said Lou.
    Clooney woofed and turned excited circles.
    ‘He can understand “biscuit”, just to warn you,’ said Tom with a lazy grin, and as he hooked up the skip, Lou went into the kitchen, closely followed by Clooney, where she gave him some of the dog biscuits she had just bought for him that morning in the pet shop.
    She so missed having a dog. They’d had a German Shepherd cross called Murphy at home. Her dad had been dead only weeks when Murphy’s back legs collapsed. She carried him to the vet’s down the road where they kindly told her she had to let him go and she cuddled her dog whilst they gently put him to sleep, then she howled like a banshee when they took him away in a blanket. She scattered his ashes in the same place where they’d scattered her dad’s and prayed that they would find each other in heaven. She dreamed of them together a lot: walking in the park, her dad throwing a tennis ball and Murphy chasing after it over the early-morning grass.
    Phil was dreadfully allergic to all animals with fur, so a ‘proper’ pet was out of the question.
    ‘Still want another skip tomorrow?’ Tom Broom enquired, helping Clooney back up into the truck.
    ‘Yes, please,’ said Lou.
    ‘About ten o’clock? Or will you still be in bed then?’
    ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be up.’
    ‘How’s the forgery business? Still making the fake fivers?’
    ‘It’s going very well, thank you,’ she said, feeling her cheeks warm up.
    Tom did that big deep laugh again. It was a lovely sound, borderline-boom, like a big friendly giant in a panto. She noticed the wrinkles that gathered around his eyes, then quickly reprimanded herself; she had no business looking at wrinkles gathering around other men’s eyes. She was a married woman, and her husband was taking her out tonight. Was this new hair-do of hers turning her into a sex maniac, eyeing up two different men in the space of a couple of hours? Both sharing