Free Millie's Game Plan by Rosie Dean Page B

Anyone could see the car was immaculate.
    ‘Is this your pride and joy?’ I asked.
    ‘And a drain on my resources,’ he grinned as he climbed in.
    ‘Cool,’ I said, sounding pathetically half my age.
    ‘Good afternoon, ladies. And, er…it might be a good idea to keep your eye on the cricket.’ This last comment he aimed directly at me.
    We stepped back to allow him to manoeuvre his car out of the parking space. Before accelerating away, he smiled at us and said, ‘Peace be with you.’
    ‘Amen,’ Sacha intoned. ‘Now, who’da thought that could be sexy?’
    Arabella blushed and giggled. ‘He’s lovely isn’t he?’
    In answer, I began packing my camera away. This wasn’t right. This really wasn’t right at all.

Chapter 9
    Pouring over storyboards for a bra-fitting video – which apparently people really do watch – I determined to scratch Josh from the leader board, delete him from my spreadsheet and…sigh…erase his photos. He was out of the running and I saw no point in muddying the waters. When I’d finished making my notes, he would be history.
    And I did. I deleted them from the X-Men folder. However, I did create another one called ‘Vicar’ just for the Josh shots but only because they would be sensational – should I ever decide to hold an exhibition. As far as my personal project was concerned, Josh was out.
    Onward and Upward. I returned to my portfolio of images and drew up a new shortlist. Arabella had given me a few titbits of information on a couple of guys, so I’d established three contenders were unmarried, although one had been in a two-year relationship which, according to Arabella, was probably not going to last, since her mother had recently seen him in a tête-à-tête with another woman in town. I wasn’t sure I wanted those complications, so I put a query by his name.
    Sacha thought I was mad to drop Josh, reasoning that if the Vicar of Dibley could bag Richard Armitage, there should be no impediment to my union with the Vicar of Marshalhampton; although she worded it a little more explicitly.
    As I reconsidered my criteria for the ideal husband, my mobile jangled into life. I didn’t recognise the number, but it was local.
    ‘Millie. It’s Vonnie Marshal, here. Do you remember me? We met at the cricket.’
    ‘Hello Vonnie.’ She must have got my number from her daughter, who wanted me to help her choose a camera.
    ‘Arabella seems really quite impressed with your pictures, and I was wondering if you might take some photos of me.’
    Wow! My first commission and I wasn’t even touting for business. I was hugely flattered but concerned. Would I be up to it? Okay, so I’d watched the tutorial DVD that came with the camera, and I’d tinkered with a few depth of field settings but a commission? ‘Well, it’s very nice of you to ask…’
    ‘Oh good,’ she cut in. ‘I don’t want the impersonal service of a city studio. Much rather have you do it here, at home.’
    ‘O…kay…’
    She gushed ahead. ‘You see, I want to give a really nice picture to my gentleman friend; he has a birthday coming up and well…why don’t you pop over and take a few shots. I’ll pay you, of course.’
    Money? ‘I’ve no idea what to charge. Being an amateur, I’m not sure I should…’
    ‘Nonsense. Why don’t I cook you supper and then, if I like the pictures, you can charge me for the materials and printing? Think of it as useful experience.’
    To be honest, I’d already decided I’d do it, if only because I was nosy and wanted to find out more about the cricketers. Vonnie might be a useful ally.
    ‘Okay, then. When would you like to do it?’
    ‘I’ll have the house to myself tomorrow night, would that be too soon?’
    I glanced at a stack of ironing on the chair. ‘Actually, tomorrow’s a good night. Give me your postcode and I’ll put it into my Sat-Nav.’
     
    As I turned into the drive, just beyond Marshalhampton village hall, I wondered whether my Sat-Nav