Page 72 of Dead and Breakfast


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“That’s what I said! Actually, I laughed at her, then I told her that the only way I was pregnant was if I had suddenly become biblical and had an immaculate conception.”

“What did she say?”

“It was protocol, so I had to have one,” Ash grumbled. “I huff, grumble that it’s about time we came up with contraception for men, then took the little piss pot she gave me. She confirms my appointment, and I leave, then realise… I’m standing in the middle of Fox Point with a fucking piss sample pot in my hand.”

I stare at her.

“I didn’t bring my bag with me. Just my keys. And if anyone sees me walking around with the damn thing, they’re going to put two and two together and come up with ‘Ash must be pregnant!’ So, what do I do? I shove it in my bra.”

“You… put the urine sample pot… in your bra?”

“Where else was I supposed to put it?” She ran her hands down her sides. “No pockets. No bag. The only storage I had was my bra!”

“And you thought walking through Fox Point with a urine sample bottle in yourbrawas a better alternative than, oh, I don’t know. Tucking it into your fist and folding your arms to hide it?”

Ash paused. “I didn’t think about that. I panicked.”

“And learnt to always take your bag when you go to the doctor’s,” I finished.

“That, too. Especially since I got snaffled by Rose Brockman to see if I could place a special order of paint for her and it took me a good five minutes to explain to her that yes, I could, but she needed to come into the store for it. She didn’t understand that she needed to pay for it at the time of placing it.” She shook her head and huffed. “I don’t know, Rose. Maybe because your paint is fucking expensive and I’m not ordering that out of my bank account. I did it once and it took the woman six weeks to come in and get it and I was on the hook for four hundred pounds.”

“Four hundred pounds for paint? Jesus Christ, what’s the paint made of? Hand-crushed petals?”

“Might as well be. It’s not even that good. It’s the same as a much cheaper alternative, and I keep telling her this, but she’s insistent on the expensive stuff.” She held her hands up. “Whatever. I get a nice commission on that stuff. Are we going to get dinner? Shall we go down to the prom and get fish and chips?”

She was going to give me whiplash.

“That was the plan before your piss pot tirade, yes.” I slid off the stool and grabbed my bag. “Unless you’re not done yet, then we’ll need to wait. I’m not walking down the high street with you ranting about your urine sample bottle.”

“Please,” Ash said, walking through the curtain to the back of the store. “If I did that, Granny would come out of nowhere and hit me, thinking I’m pregnant. And I’m not. I can’t be. It’s physically impossible. One must have sex in order to be pregnant.”

“This might surprise you,” I said, going over to the front door. “But I am versed in basic human biology.”

She walked back out into the front of the store and stuck her tongue out at me. “Didn’t you say earlier that you had something to tell me?”

“Mhmm.” I waited for her to unlock the door again so we could get out, then when we were outside and she’d locked back up, I said, “Have you ever met Shane?”

Ash frowned at me as we started walking. “The guy Stephanie is staying with?”

“How many other Shanes do you know?”

“A couple,” she replied. “I’ve met him a few times. I told you that I hired him once to install some lights in the shop, but I don’t know him, really.”

“What did you think of him?”

“Wow, that police interrogation really rubbed off on you.”

“Piss off.”

She laughed as we dodged out of the way of a woman with a pram and a screaming toddler. “He seemed all right. Didn’t talk much, but that’s how I like my men.”

“What, speechless?”

“No, quiet and knowing their place.”

I shook my head. “I met him earlier. I had to go out to the big shop to get all my cleaning stuff for the annexe, and I couldn’t get the vacuum box out of the trolley. Did you know trolleys have breaks on the wheels?”

“Yes,” she said slowly, eyeing me. “Everyone knows that.”

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