Free The Dead Dog Day by Jackie Kabler Page A

them for long. She leaned back in her chair.
    â€˜Last cake, anyone?’ she said.
    Rosie, who hated rows, stopped nervously fiddling with a silver bauble she’d picked off the Christmas tree and looked relieved. She stretched over and selected the cream slice, pointing to her belly remorsefully.
    â€˜Baby’s still hungry … come on, let’s put the telly on or something.’
    The three of them got up and moved to the sofas. Cora and Rosie sank onto one, Rosie cradling her cake, while Nicole kicked off her spiky black boots and arranged her long legs under her on the other.
    â€˜Sorry,’ she said again.
    Cora, who was flicking disconsolately through the channels, threw a cushion at her.
    â€˜Shut up, it’s fine,’ she said. ‘Honestly.’
    Nicole stuffed the cushion behind her back and grinned. ‘Thanks, I’ll keep that. Had to deliver a bugger of a calf this week – nearly did my back in.’
    â€˜Oh, don’t start, please, unless you want me to vomit.’ Cora shuddered and carried on channel-hopping.
    A vet who normally specialised in small animals, Nicole occasionally got called out to nearby farms in emergencies. Cora and Rosie had met her at a party six years ago, and although the three of them had been inseparable ever since, some of Nicole’s stories were a little hard to stomach.
    â€˜Yuk,’ Rosie agreed. ‘I can’t imagine sticking my hand up a cow’s bum. I don’t know how you do it, Nic.’
    â€˜Well, I can’t imagine pottering around with flowers all day. I mean – poncy flowers ,’ Nicole retorted. ‘And as for you, Cora, what did I see you doing earlier in the week – oh yes, standing in the dark at some ungodly hour, in Liverpool of all grotty places, pretending to be reeeeeally excited and impressed by some completely insane people who had about a zillion Christmas lights all over their house and garden. I mean, honestly. You do have a crap job.’
    Cora and Rosie looked at each and started to giggle. Nicole was funny when she went off on one.
    â€˜I know. I hate Christmas lives. But you weren’t saying that when I interviewed George Clooney, were you?’ Cora threw another cushion across the room.
    Nicole caught it with one hand and added it to the pile behind her.
    â€˜OK, I’ll give you that one … oh, stop flicking, look! It’s that travel thingy, with that Boland bloke, whatever his name is – now, he’s almost as yummy as Gorgeous George, don’t you think?’
    Cora’s heart sank as they all stared at the screen. Benjamin Boland was striding across a desert somewhere, his dark hair damp with sweat but still managing to curl sexily around the nape of his neck. His white shirt, open at the chest, clung to his tanned, hairless torso.
    Oblivious to the blush spreading across Cora’s cheeks, Rosie stroked her bump dreamily. ‘Oh yes. Now that, Cora, is a man who doesn’t want to be tied down with kids, I bet. A real adventurer, roaming the world – crikey, look at those thighs! I bet he is fantastic in bed.’
    â€˜Cora – Cora, what on earth is wrong with you? Why have you gone all red and sweaty?’ Nicole was leaning forward on the sofa, sharp eyes taking in her friend’s fiery complexion.
    â€˜Cora?’ Rosie sat up too, looking perturbed.
    Cora sighed and stood up. ‘Anyone for a glass of wine? And then, I have a rather funny story to tell you …’

11
    â€˜Baby, you look seriously hot! Come watch with me!’
    The tiny Japanese girl curled up on a huge purple leather beanbag beckoned to Benjamin with a manicured finger. Her shiny black bob swung as she turned back to the TV. On screen, Benjamin was now hacking his way through a rainforest, the muscles in his forearms bulging as he swung the axe. The shot cut to a python slithering through the undergrowth, and the girl let out a little scream,