Each Way Bet by Ilsa Evans Read Free Book Online

one extra. Although she’s a bit . . . but she’s a doctor, so one must make allowances. And she needs to meet people – only been back in the country a little while. Nasty divorce. Name’s Sybil. So, you see, it’s all taken care of. Except for the dessert, of course.’
    ‘What?’ repeated Jill, looking wide-eyed across at the bowl full of congealing butter. ‘Dessert?’
    ‘Yes, dessert. Which you were kindly supplying so I’m assuming it’s all taken care of by now. Correct?’
    ‘Oh, sure.’ Jill tried nodding to give her words added assurance. ‘All taken care of.’
    ‘Excellent. Then I’d better go and pack. And start your list. And I’ll give you a ring tomorrow to see how it’s going. Goodbye.’
    Jill replaced the receiver slowly. Then she grimaced across at the mixing bowl and flipped a tea-towel over it so that shewouldn’t have to look at it. Unfortunately, she reflected as she gazed around the debris that was the family room, she couldn’t cover the whole damn lot in similar fashion. Melbourne Cup Day. Here. Tomorrow. She took a deep breath and then let it out slowly.
    ‘Shit, shit, shit.’
    ‘I heard that!’ Cricket popped up from the other side of the island bench and, with her arms akimbo, glared at her mother fiercely.
    Jill looked at her daughter expressionlessly for a few moments and then, deciding that she was the least of her problems, reached for the Panadol.

CHAPTER TWO
Emily
    ‘That looks fantastic on you!’
    ‘Mmm . . .’ Emily twisted herself around so that she could see her behind in the full-length mirror. As she turned, the blood-red silk of the skirt flared out momentarily before settling sheath-like around her thighs and buttocks. She grimaced.
    ‘You don’t like it?’ asked the saleswoman incredulously, raising her pencil-thin eyebrows and making it sound as if Emily would have to be demented to pass up this opportunity. ‘But it looks fantastic!’
    ‘So you said.’ Emily stepped back into the cubicle and shed the skirt. ‘No, it’s too clingy.’
    ‘Clingy’s good!’
    ‘Only in small doses.’ Emily pulled her jeans back on and slipped her feet into her shoes. ‘But I’ll take the cargo pants, thanks – in the black.’
    ‘Certainly.’ The saleswoman clipped the skirt back onto the hanger and then held it out as though she were auditioning for a spot on the Spanish bullfighting team, so that Emily just about had to push past it as she exited the cubicle. ‘And you’re sure about the skirt? You know, it really did look –’
    ‘Fantastic?’ Emily walked over to the counter and took her purse out. ‘No thanks.’
    ‘Well, all right then, if you’re sure,’ the saleswoman said, shaking her head and sighing.
    ‘Not only am I sure,’ said Emily, closing her purse, ‘but do you know what? I think I’ve changed my mind about the pants too.’
    Suddenly the saleswoman moved with lightning speed. Before Emily could even tuck her purse into her bag, she was over at the counter with the satiny black cargo pants folded and bagged. She held them out with a smile.
    ‘Great choice – they look fantastic.’
    Emily paid with her credit card and then left the store, swinging the brightly coloured plastic bag at her side. She window-shopped all the way down Chapel Street, enjoying the tepid spring sunshine and the fact she had a day off while so many others seemed to be working. Fortunately, one of the few other free souls had arranged an impromptu picnic by the Yarra, and then done a ring-around. So Emily had spent the last three hours reclining on a grassy verge by the river, indulging in kabana and cheese and antipasto while catching up on the latest news and marking the passing joggers with scores out of ten.
    And while it was all pretty enjoyable and a few fairly decent scores had come past, about an hour ago, Emily had started feeling rather bored with the whole thing. Accordingly, while the others started discussing the possibilities of a pub