Marrying A Millionaire. Laura Martin

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СКАЧАТЬ worry, I’m not offended. In fact I think it would be worse if you did recognise me—I used to look dreadful at school. Fat with glasses and my hair in a frightful mess!’

      The picture began to be a bit clearer. Cathy focused on the beautifully made-up face more closely. ‘Sandra?’ she queried. ‘Sandra Beale? We used to sit together in Maths.’

      ‘You’ve got it! So, how are you after all these years?’

      ‘Oh, I’m fine.’ Cathy managed a weak smile. She felt rather overwhelmed. It was difficult to take in that this gorgeous-looking woman was the same quiet, frumpy girl that no one had bothered much with at school.

      ‘I know what you’re thinking.’ Even white teeth flashed becomingly in the sunlight. ‘Such a metamorphosis, isn’t it?’ Sandra spread her arms wide, showing off herself to full effect. She was dressed elegantly in shades of cream and brown. Cathy’s gaze rested appreciatively on fitted jodphurs and a beautifully soft roll-neck pullover, worn beneath a chunky brown corduroy jacket. On her feet were a pair of supple, knee-length leather boots.

      ‘What happened?’ Cathy asked, trying not to imagine the sort of mess she must look in comparison. She had bathed in four inches of lukewarm water this morning, thrown on a pair of clean, but rather worn denims, and grabbed the nearest jumper to hand from the large cardboard box that was part of her wardrobe. It happened to be a dazzling assortment of multicoloured stripes and extremely large. Cathy pushed the sleeves up over her hands. With a purple woollen hat jammed on her bubbly red hair, she felt like a clown in comparison to Sandra’s tastefully clad figure.

      ‘Oh, I decided I was sick of being Little Miss Nobody. Amazing what you can do with a bottle of bleach, contact lenses, make-up and a few well-chosen clothes, isn’t it?’

      ‘You look…’ Cathy shook her head in admiration. ‘Stunning.’

      ‘Thanks!’ Sandra looked suitably pleased. ‘So what are you doing here? Visiting?’

      ‘Er…no. No, actually, I’ve…well, we’ve just moved in.’

      ‘Really?’ Sandra didn’t bother to hide her surprise. ‘Where?’

      ‘Stanway Cottage. It’s just past the last turning to the green, next to the tree which looks as if its about to fall down.’

      ‘You don’t mean old Mrs Payne’s place?’

      ‘Yes.’ Cathy tilted her chin slightly. There was a distinct note of incredulity in Sandra’s tone.

      ‘Good gracious. Have you bought it?’

      ‘No. I just rent.’

      ‘Oh, I see. She’s in a home now, isn’t she? I suppose her family are just biding their time.’

      Cathy nodded. ‘Something like that.’

      ‘You said we,’ Sandra commented purposefully. ‘Are you married?’

      ‘Yes—umm, I mean, no. No, I’m not married, but I’m with someone.’ Cathy turned towards Robbie, who was engrossed in biting the heads off all the red jelly babies. ‘This is my son. Robbie…’ Cathy touched him on the shoulder. ‘Say hello to Sandra, Robbie. We used to go to school together.’

      ‘Hello.’ He looked up briefly, gave a formidable scowl, and then focused his concentration back on his packet of sweets.

      ‘He’s not usually as antisocial as this,’ Cathy explained. ‘But he’s a bit tired. We only moved in last night.’

      ‘Oh, he’s adorable!’ Sandra’s smile was bright—maybe just a little too bright, Cathy thought as she glanced at her fixed expression. ‘How old is he?’

      ‘Five. He’ll be six in a few weeks’ time.’

      There was a slight hesitation. ‘So…it’s just the two of you, is it?’

      Cathy nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right. What about you?’ she asked swiftly. ‘Do you live around here?’

      ‘Yes. Someone I used to…er…know died and left me his little place. He was a friend of the family.’

      ‘Lucky you.’ Cathy smiled. ‘I have no connections here whatsoever. I know it’s only a few miles out of town, but it might just as well be on the other side of the world. I remember visiting once on a school field trip, and then when I saw the advert in the local paper—’ Cathy stopped babbling. It was clear she no longer had Sandra’s full attention anyway.

      ‘I want to go!’ Robbie sounded bored.

      ‘Yes, in a minute, sweetheart.’ Cathy turned and followed Sandra’s gaze, curious to know what it was that had her so completely transfixed.

      She couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, just the green and the trees and the narrow path which wound its way to the village store. There was an old lady on a bike with an empty shopping bag hooked over the handlebars, a young girl skipping alongside a mother with a pushchair, and a man walking alone. Actually, something about him looked vaguely familiar. Cathy looked more closely and her heart skipped a sudden, unexpected beat.

      ‘I want to go!’ Robbie had finished his sweets and was tugging impatiently on Cathy’s hand. ‘Stop talking!’

      ‘Robbie!’ Cathy frowned down at her son. ‘Don’t be so rude.’

      ‘I want to go!’ He pulled free from Cathy’s grasp.

      ‘Perhaps you’d like to call by some time,’ she suggested, but Sandra wasn’t listening. Cathy looked across and saw that the object of her desire was rapidly approaching. ‘Well, I must be getting back,’ she announced after a moment. ‘Come on, Robbie, let’s go and see that horse—Robbie?’

      Cathy spun around wildly. She couldn’t see him. She scanned the area in front of the village store, the green, the duck pond where they had fed the ducks…

      ‘Oh no!’ Cathy dropped her bag of shopping and broke into a run. ‘Robbie!’ she cried. ‘Don’t go any closer! Robbie!’

      He was at the water’s edge, stepping off the path and treading carefully down the side of the bank. There had been a lot of rain last night, so it would be very slippery. Cathy ran towards him as fast as she could, wondering how he had got away from her so quickly.

      There was a cry, and she watched as he fell, sliding down the bank with a whoosh and ending up in the water. Cathy ran faster, aware out of the corner of her eye of other movement from the far side of the green.

      He was crying when she got to him. He had managed to get to his feet, but he was standing in about six inches of water and looking very miserable and frightened. ‘Robbie!’ Cathy held out her hand and tried to sound calm, despite her thudding heart. ‘Come on. Take my hand.’

      ‘I can’t!’

      ‘I’m not cross with you.’ She very carefully placed her feet at the edge of the water. ‘Come on, sweetheart.’ He was sinking. Cathy stared in horror as the top of his wellington boots began to let in water. ‘Robbie, stay still!’ she instructed. ‘I’m coming to get you!’

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