Free The Taming of the Bastard by Lindy Dale

something
dawned on me. “Sam, how did you get this number? Adele doesn’t like
me taking personal calls on the home phone.”
    “You gave it to
me when you gave me your mobile.”
    “Oh.” I didn’t
remember that but then my mind had been mush since I’d met him. It
was more than likely true. “Can I let you know?”
    I was playing
for time, I knew, but the idea of a team date was too much for me
to handle. God only knows what mischief they’d cause roaming in a
pack.
    “We could go
for lunch, alone, if you’d be more comfortable,” Sam added, as if
sensing my apprehension. “The boys can be pretty full on.”
    “Maybe, I mean,
I might have to work.”
    After Sam hung
up I stared, disconcerted, at the phone. I knew I hadn’t given him
the home phone number. Adele would fire me on the spot, after
breaking every bone in my body first, that is. So how had he got
it? The Richards-Shaw’s were not listed in the phone book.
Absently, I rubbed a spot of chocolate yogurt from the receiver
where Paige had been ‘on the phone’ again. There was a lot about
Sam I wasn’t sure of.

 10 
    “Millie, Millie
…There’s a funny man at the window.”
    It was two
dates and three afternoons later. Adele had retired upstairs with a
cold compress to her forehead after a hectic ladies lunch with the
Breast Cancer Society. I was up to my neck in glitter glue and
yellow paint because Paige had produced a note from her school bag
dated two weeks previous. Fabulous. The note said there was an
assembly the next morning. It also said Paige had a starring role…
as The Sun, of all things. Luckily for her, though I was no cook, I
was very creative in the costume department. Casting a sun from
cardboard and paint was nothing. Except a bit of an annoyance.
    “Millie!
Millie!” Paige continued, jumping like an excited puppy,
“Look!”
    Ignoring her
pleas and praying it wasn’t the Adventists again (I had so much
trouble getting them out of the living room the last time) I went
on with the pasting. There was only a limited amount of time before
this costume had to be ready and knowing Paige’s exacting standards
and the critical eye of her classmates; I would need every minute
of it.
    Tap, tap,
tap.
    “Ignore it,
Paige,” I instructed her. “Come and help me finish your
costume.”
    Tap, tap,
tap.
    “But
Millie...”
    Sighing, I
tried to concentrate on the glitter. There was no time to have a
stern talk with the Adventists and they wouldn’t have taken me
seriously. I had gold glitter glue stuck to my eyebrows and yellow
smudges on my cheek that looked like a bad case of hepatitis. My
hair was falling out of its bun and trailing over my face and my
shorts had a rip along the cheek of my bottom. I glanced over at
Paige. She was peeking at the unwanted visitor from behind the back
of a lounge chair. “He’s not leaving Millie.”
    Bang, bang,
bang .
    No, he wasn’t,
and the knocking was becoming more insistent which I found unusual.
Normally, the Adventists gave up after a few minutes. Wiping the
smudge away and only succeeding in smearing it further across my
face, I got up from the floor and walked to where Paige knelt on
the chair. I was a little peeved. It wasn’t like I had all day to
waste with hawkers.
    “Who is
it?”
    “It’s a funny
man... with make-up,” Paige giggled and ducked her head out of
sight, then popped back up again. Clearly, this was some sort of
game.
    Little Tori was
now pointing toward the glass doors that lead out onto the
Richards-Shaw’s front verandah, too. “Clown. Clown,” she tittered,
as I continued to ignore them both.
    Resolutely,
Paige tugged at my sleeve. “You have to open the door, Millie. He’s
got some big balloons.” She paused for a moment, deep in thought.
“Are we having a clown party for afternoon tea?”
    I smiled at her
purity, exactly the right amount for a five year old, for a change.
It was obvious I was going to have to act, and so, sighing and
running my