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But less mad than what she’d just floated.
Or so she thought.
Until he answered.
“That is outrageous. I’m offended you’d suggest such a thing,” he said.
In the most overblown and obviously lying sort of way that she’d ever heard.
It was all she could do not to laugh. “Alfie, I can hear the pages rustling every time you pause. And I’m pretty sure that you just mutteredI’ve lost my place nowunder your breath.”
“Well, you try keeping track of tiny font when you haven’t got your glasses.”
Jeepers, she thought.He’s really doing it. He’s just accidentally admitted it.
Then could not help going further into whatever this was.
“I didn’t even know you needed glasses. Is that why you were squinting all the way through one of your appearances onA Question of Sport?” she asked.
And didn’t know what to expect as an answer. He’d already given her so much weirdness, it seemed impossible that he would go with more. Surely now he would return to the Alfie Harding he had always appeared to be, on the pitch and on telly and in interviews and even while acting: never saying anything above a single syllable, always full of confident swagger, temper flaring in only the most on-the-ball sort of way.
Only he didn’t. He did not at all.
That Alfie had flown the coop, apparently.
And this absolutely terrible liar had taken his place.
“No. The studio lights were just very bright.”
“But you did it again at that awards ceremony.”
“That was only because I was tired.”
“So tired that you called Helen MirrenHelga Muppet?”
Okay, that was too far, her brain immediately informed her. Yet strangely, she didn’t feel bad about it. She felt something else, instead. Something that she didn’t immediately recognize, after years of never quite knowing how to respond when someone was mean to her. And especially when that person was powerful—which Alfie Harding undoubtedly was.
He was famous, and rich, and used to people kowtowing to him.
Yet here it was, all the same: the sense that she had won.
She knew she had, before he even replied.
And when he did, oh Lord in heaven.
It was glorious.
“See, I knew this would be a mistake. I could tell you’d be all insufferable with me, saying all your cute things until I’m completely turned around. Well, I’m not having it,” he said all in a big, angry, frustrated rush. Then he quite clearly tried to slam the phone down on her. Because apparently, he’d forgotten that phones didn’t work that way anymore.
Putting the Boot In
When hardman Griff Mitchell (Manchester United legend Alfie Harding) takes out his rage on the ref during a heated championship match, he winds up with blood on his hands and a stretch in the slammer. He’s looking at thirty years hard time in the roughest prison in the country.
But after his cellmate, Little Jim (Love Island’s Benny Ormond) is brutally murdered, Mitchell knows it’s up to him to get even with the thugs who did it. And now there are no rules to play by, he’s going to play to really win. And the score line is about to be drawn… in blood.
ThreeA Fern the Size of a Bus Would Probably Do It
She considered telling Greg about the bizarre call from Alfie Harding.
