Free Training Days by Jane Frances Page B

of Kitty personally—bitch sessions with Nick and Mark aside—she had never bad-mouthed her in front of anyone. “We all just thought it was better—”
    “Yes. I know what you all thought,” Ally said bitterly. “You all thought it was better that you cover up your affair in case I decided to call the papers. Well, let me tell you, Mogs , I don’t care what you do behind closed doors, with Mark or Nick or anyone else for that matter. I didn’t care last night . . . I didn’t care this morning when I told Kitty the exact same thing . . . and I don’t care now. You can swing from the Gold class chandeliers if that’s what turns you on, so long as you leave me out of it. But what I do care about is being lied to”—Ally pointed down the carriage—“and having to sit in here for three days when I booked a damn sleeper.” For a second Ally looked like she was going to cry and instinctively Morgan reached out her hand to her. It was slapped away. “This whole trip is turning out to be a nightmare.”
    With that, and with one final glare at Morgan, Ally turned on her heel and stalked down the carriage.
    Again Morgan followed and she stopped in front of the seat that Ally flung herself into. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Marge had detected her presence and was waving madly in her direction. She answered with a wave of her own then refocused her attention on Ally. “Honestly,” she began quickly, fully aware that Marge was now lumbering down the corridor toward her, “I didn’t know you’d ended up in here—”
    “Morgan!”
    “Hello, Marge.” Morgan turned her attention to Marge and smiled. “I’m really sorry about having to dash off so quickly this morning, but we were all running a little late . . .” She felt the weight of Ally’s scorn even without looking at her. Ally didn’t have to say a word for Morgan to know that she thought she reeked of insincerity.
    And she really didn’t like the feeling that knowledge gave her.
    “Dearie me. Don’t give it a second thought.” Marge’s delighted smile turned even more brilliant at the acknowledgment. “Bless you, Morgan. I know how busy you are. But I’m very happy you did finally come because I’ve been wanting to talk to you about my friend here, Alison.” Marge tut-tutted. “Dreadful treatment she’s had on this train, bless her. We were talking about it most all last night, weren’t we, dear?” Marge actually patted Ally on the head. She didn’t seem to care that Ally neither confirmed nor denied their conversation. She just charged on. “And I told her not to worry because Morgan Silverstone from Bonnes Vacances was on the train and that being such an important and lovely woman”—Marge beamed at Morgan, not a hint of guile in her expression—“that you would be able to help.”
    “Actually, that’s exactly why I’m here.” Morgan now felt doubly sorry for Ally in the knowledge that on top of everything else she had spent a night next to chatterbox Marge. The woman had probably not had a wink of sleep. Despite the temptation not to, she met the eyes she could bet had been rolling skyward at the mention of her as “lovely” and “important.” As expected, the look she received was filthy. For Marge’s benefit, she twisted the truth a little. “I was told over lunch about your predicament, Alison.” She saw Ally raise her eyebrows at the white lie but, like Marge when she was on a roll, she ploughed on. “All I can say is that I’m dreadfully sorry this has happened to you and I hope we can figure out something to help make the rest of your trip a little more pleasant. Maybe we can talk about this further . . . somewhere a little quieter?”
    Ally’s expression turned defiant. “It’s okay. We can talk about it right here . . . I have nothing to hide from anyone.”
    Morgan mentally froze. Ally had her over a barrel. Maybe her lunchtime assumption of her as honest and trustworthy had been wrong and the