Hens Reunited Read Online Free

after all , wittered Miss Dickens in her head.
    Enough game-playing. She got her mobile phone out of her bag and brandished it so that he could see it in his rear-view mirror. ‘If you don’t pull over and let me get out right now , I’m calling the police,’ she told him, her voice shaking.
    To her consternation, he merely laughed. ‘He said you might get cross with me,’ the driver replied. ‘He told me, just ignore her if she starts getting shirty. Sorry, sweetheart. But he’s paying the bill, see, so . . .’
    Katie’s mouth dropped open in outrage. Just ignore her if she starts getting shirty ? Had Steve actually said that about her? She glared as she imagined the words coming out of his mouth. She’d give him shirty! What was this wild goose chase he was sending her on, anyway?
    ‘ I’ll pay the bill,’ Katie said, fuming, as they turned into a leafy Georgian square. ‘Just stop the car and I’ll pay. I’ve had enough of this game now. I just want to—’
    ‘No need for that, my darlin’,’ the driver said, indicating and pulling over. ‘Because we’re here. Allow me.’
    He nipped out and held the back door open for her. She stared suspiciously at him, and then up at the hotel she was standing in front of. Berkeley Square Hotel? Why had he brought her here? ‘And . . . dare I ask what happens now?’ she said icily . ‘ All part of the joke, eh?’
    His hands were up in a Whoa! gesture, and he was laughing. ‘Calm down. He said to go and check in. You have a good weekend now.’ And with that, he was back in the driver’s seat, giving her a cheery wave and pulling off.
    Katie watched him go, feeling bewildered. ‘He said to go and check in?’ she repeated to herself. ‘What, in there ?’
    She eyed the hotel. She knew for sure that this was a wind-up now. Any second, Steve would pop out, laughing his head off, then take her to their favourite pub in town. So where are you, then, Steve? , she thought, looking around. Very funny , she’d say when she spotted him. You had me going for a minute, then. I thought I was getting kidnapped!
    Steve didn’t appear. She looked at the hotel again. It occupied several townhouses in the quiet Georgian square, and had a pleasingly symmetrical frontage, with its large sash windows and the olive trees in pots either side of the main door. It was meant to have an amazing restaurant, with luxurious double rooms. The sort of place she’d never go, unless someone was having a really special birthday do there. She’d read about it in the Evening Post when it had been revamped six months or so ago, had said, ‘Ooh! That looks a bit flash for Brizzle’, and then forgotten about it.
    So deep down, she knew it was all a tease about her checking in there. It had to be, didn’t it? Steve was probably taking a picture of her right now on his mobile phone from where he was hiding. He’d take the mickey out of her about it later. ‘Did you really believe that cabbie?’ he’d laugh. ‘You dozy mare. What are you like?’
    She was standing there like a lemon, not able to think straight. She might as well go inside the place, now that she was here, she supposed. She could always pretend she was checking out the facilities or something. And then, once she’d done that, she’d get the bus back home. Oh, and she’d send Steve out on the supermarket run. It was the least he could do after all this.
    She stepped inside the hotel lobby. It felt cool and light, and practically smelled of money. Classical music was playing, and there was a small ornate fountain in the waiting area, water tumbling over slick white cobbles, which immediately made Katie need the loo. She felt sweaty and grubby in her Friday work clothes – whatever had possessed her to put on this skanky old vest top today, anyway? – and tried to smooth her hair behind her ears as she went up to reception.
    The woman behind the desk smiled at her, foundation dewy on her skin, clothes immaculate, a