Lost Dogs and Lonely Hearts by Lucy Dillon Read Free Book Online

him a sideways look, her clever green cat’s eyes glinting with amusement. ‘Stop it. You’ll make me nauseous.’ But she leaned over and pressed a secret kiss in the hollow of his neck, quickly, so no one would see. Johnny’s heart rate sped up and he hoped it meant they were heading into a Green Zone. It might be worth sacrificing a round for.
    But Natalie’s mind was back on Bill. ‘Bill needs a girlfriend,’ she said with a sigh, sinking back into the ancient burgundy velveteen. ‘He can’t keep on being so fussy. He can’t keep on hanging out with sad marrieds like us. Why did he dump the last one?’
    ‘She couldn’t park her car.’ Johnny returned his attention to the bar, where the brunette was laughing uproariously, and heaving her cleavage around. The first signs of rigor mortis were setting in on Bill’s smile. ‘Come on, the guy doesn’t ask for much. He only wants a woman between twenty-six and twenty-eight, no baggage, no scary exes, good cook, blonde hair, taller than Kylie Minogue but shorter than Kate Winslet, likes the outdoors but also home comforts.’
    ‘Who’s perfect at parking.’
    ‘Well, yes.’
    ‘He’s trying not to find someone,’ said Natalie with a sigh. She knocked back the last of her Diet Coke while Johnny was racking his brains wondering what she meant. ‘Should we leave him to his consultation or should you rescue him?’
    They scrutinised Bill’s body language; long legs crossed over each other, arms folded defensively over his chest. As they looked, he caught Johnny’s eye and made a tiny shaky-head gesture.
    ‘I’ll rescue him.’ Johnny rose to his feet, nearly knocking the small table over. He wasn’t small, and the tables had got very close together since Ray had tried to upgrade the Fox and Hounds to a gourmet experience by shoving the drinkers into the snug to make space for a dining room. ‘What can I get you?’
    ‘A bloody Virgin Mary.’ Natalie had sacrificed white wine at the same time as she’d given up tea, coffee and anything else that might interfere with her hormones. ‘Johnny, I’m not nagging but don’t you think you should . . . have one too?’ She bit her lip and looked down at her handbag, next to her on the shabby velvet seat. She seemed more cross with herself than him.
    Johnny knew what she’d stopped herself saying: had he remembered the advice about his own beer consumption? Natalie never nagged; it had been one of their self-written marriage vows, along with his promise to iron his own shirts. But in this case she didn’t need to; if it was a choice between giving up the ale and giving Dr Bill’s flat-shoed nemesis Nurse Sonia the dreaded sample for analysis, he was willing to make the ale sacrifice for a few months.
    Twelve months, now, it had been since they’d ‘stopped trying not to get pregnant’. The longest twelve months of his life.
    Still, Johnny thought, it was really important to Natalie, having a baby. And to him. Obviously. It was important to them both, because whatever made her happy, made him happy. But if it came to it, Johnny secretly thought that if it was just him and Natalie for the rest of their lives, he’d be happy enough.
    ‘A Virgin Mary? Eeh, cocktails? At the Fox?’ he said instead. ‘Think I’ll join you in that. Give Ray some sophistimacation practice for those fine dining yuppies he wants to bring in.’
    Natalie looked up and smiled gratefully, and he loved her a little bit more.
     
    Twenty minutes later, Natalie drained the tomato juice dregs and shouldered her bag.
    ‘I’d better be off,’ she said, with an apologetic smile. ‘I know, party pooper. Sorry.’
    ‘So early?’ Bill looked disappointed. ‘Does this mean we’re getting old? It’s not even a school night. Mr Hodge is still here, look!’
    Natalie gripped the shoulder strap. ‘No, I’ve just . . . I’ve just got some reports I need to write up before the weekend kicks in. I hate leaving it till Sunday night.