Me and Mr Carrington: A Short Story. Alexandra Brown
Читать онлайн книгу.
Annie, someone might hear you, and no, I haven’t had sex,’ I tell her, before scanning the floor.
‘But why not? He’s totes gorge,’ she adds, lowering her voice now.
Annie makes big eyes and waits for me to respond.
‘Err …’ I start, wondering how on earth she even knows about me and Tom, when the only Carrington’s staff in the loop are my best friends, Sam and Eddie, and I trust them both. Eddie might be the biggest drama queen going, but he’s completely reliable and Sam, well, she’s the kindest, most loyal friend ever, we’re practically sisters and we’ve known each other ages – since we started school together at five years old.
‘Oh, it’s OK. Everyone knows … Well, not everyone everyone.’ She shakes her head and grabs my hand reassuringly. ‘Only me and Betty, that mumsy switchboard supervisor. And Mrs Grace I think, but not the customers or anything.’ Oh that’s good. Betty is the biggest gossip going, and Mrs Grace, Carrington’s oldest employee will certainly have something to say about it. She’s a stalwart for tradition and upholding the ‘proper way to behave’; she really won’t approve of Mr Carrington carrying on with me – I can see her now, clutching her granny bag and wagging her bony finger, warning me not to dally with the likes of them upstairs on the executive floor. She’s old-fashioned and a bit of a ‘them and us’ and ‘it’s alright for them’ type.
‘Whaaaat?’ But how?’ I ask.
Annie leans in to me, her eyes darting from side-to-side as if she’s a spy on a special top-secret espionage mission.
‘I only found out because Betty was here on the floor a few minutes ago.’
‘Oh?’ I raise an eyebrow.
‘That’s right. She took delivery of a massive bouquet for you … from Mr Carrington!’ Annie is beside herself now and lets out an actual squeal before clapping her hands together. ‘This is SO romantic, just like a film,’ she gushes, echoing Eddie’s sentiment from earlier and my heart lifts. Flowers. Tom sent flowers. ‘Georgie, this is real babe. You’ve landed a millionaire. A bloody buff one too – not one of those geriatric Ronseal-tanned ones that own pole-dancing clubs and want you to call them daddy.’ She flings her hands on her hips and stares me straight in the eye. My mind boggles wondering how she knows such things.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.