Boot Camp Bride by Lizzie Lamb

Author:Lizzie Lamb [Lamb, Lizzie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Tags: Humorous, Romantic Comedy, Contemporary, Romance, General Humor, Humor & Satire, Literature & Fiction
Amazon: B00GAMZ642
Publisher: New Romantics Press
Published: 2013-11-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-three

Forget the Bucket and Spade

It was a frosty afternoon and the sun was burning low on the horizon as Charlee and Ffinch headed for north-west Norfolk.

Charlee was glad of the excuse to slip on her wrap-around sunglasses against the glare because they concealed her expression. She’d spent two days brooding over her conversation with Vanessa and Sally. And, despite all best attempts, some of their poison had dripped into her ear and seeped into her brain. She glanced sideways at Ffinch as he drove along the twisting road from Fakenham to Wells-next-the-Sea. He looked buoyed up and exhilarated, more than was reasonable given that their mission was to catch a Russian supermodel with mud on her plimsolls.

What was she missing? She tapped her teeth with her thumbnail and drew her brows together in concentration.

‘You’re quiet, Montague. Why does that fill me with disquiet?’ Ffinch asked and, when she didn’t answer, added, ‘Anxious about the mission?’

‘I’m worried that Anastasia might recognise me from the nightclub,’ she prevaricated.

‘Take it from me, she won’t. She spends her life surrounded by her ‘people’ - gophers, hangers-on and the like. She probably wouldn’t recognise her own sister unless she wore a name badge and carried a backstage pass.’

‘Ouch. That was pretty cynical, even for you,’ Charlee responded.

‘Even for me?’ Ffinch gave her words some consideration before asking with deceptive quietness, ‘And what would you know about me?’

‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing.’ His words stung and Charlee returned to watching the bare fields sweep past, feeling cast down. Ffinch let out a breath and loosened the long scarf which he wore, muffler-like around his neck, as if he was suddenly too hot. Turning left at the junction, they skirted the top of Wells-next-the-Sea and headed towards Holkham.

‘What would you like to know?’ he asked resignedly, after a few miles of uncomfortable silence.

‘Okay, bite my head off if you must, but I want to know what happened on your trip to Darien.’ She turned in her seat to look at him. Like her, his expression was hidden behind sunglasses but she could tell from the way one corner of his mouth quirked in irritation that this information was being dragged out of him.

‘It’s something I’d rather forget, but it’s something …’ he paused, searching for the right words.

‘Something you can’t forget?’

‘That’s it,’ he sounded surprised that she understood. ‘Okay, long story short - I set out to take photographs while my research team took notes for the last chapter of my book. Chapter Ten - Darien.’ He glanced at her and when she looked back at him, blankly, gave her a dark look. Charlee’s crime was soon made plain to her. ‘You haven’t read the book, have you Montague? I might have known.’ Although he made light of her indifference to his magnum opus, she could tell that he was smarting just the same.

‘Come on Ffinch, be fair. When have I had time? It’s been full on since we met at your book launch … ’

‘As if I could forget.

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